The lobby of IMFG’s luxury hotel buzzed with energy. Reporters clustered near the grand ballroom entrance, cameras in hand, waiting for the exclusive press conference to begin. Ji-an’s former idol group was making their first major appearance in years, and speculation was high.

  In his office, Kang Joon-ho leaned against his desk, watching the live feed from the hotel’s security cameras. A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

  “She’ll be there soon,” Yoo Seul-bi informed him, standing nearby with her arms crossed.

  Joon-ho hummed in acknowledgment, eyes fixed on the screen. “Good. Make sure she’s brought through the lobby, not the VIP entrance. I want her to see it before she even realizes what’s happening.”

  Seul-bi arched an eyebrow. “You think she’ll thank you for this?”

  “She doesn’t have to,” he replied smoothly. “She just has to feel something.”

  Meanwhile, Seo Ji-an arrived at the hotel, her manager Kang Ha-neul at her side. The elegant surroundings did little to ease the tension coiled in her chest. She had agreed to meet Joon-ho for a business discussion, but something about the location felt off.

  “Are you sure about this?” Ji-an asked, clutching her purse a little tighter.

  Ha-neul sighed. “I don’t like it, but this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted to hear him out.”

  Ji-an nodded, but her steps slowed as they approached the main lobby. Then, she heard it—the familiar sound of camera shutters, the low hum of murmuring reporters, and the excited chatter of fans beyond the glass doors.

  Her breath caught.

  There, displayed on a massive LED screen near the entrance, was the press conference banner. Her former group’s name, bold and unmistakable.

  The past slammed into her like a wave, dredging up memories she had tried so hard to bury. The betrayal. The loneliness. The moment her voice was stolen from her.

  “Ji-an?” Ha-neul’s voice was cautious, aware of the sudden shift in her expression.

  Ji-an swallowed, forcing herself to stay composed. “Let’s go.”

  But even as she said it, her feet felt heavier, her heart pounding in a way she couldn’t ignore.

  And just as she stepped forward, the doors to the ballroom swung open—

  And she locked eyes with someone she never wanted to see again.

  The rhythmic click of camera shutters filled the air, blending with the murmurs of eager reporters. Ji-an stepped through the lobby, her heels tapping against the polished marble floor. She wasn’t paying attention at first—her mind was preoccupied with the upcoming meeting—but then a familiar voice, amplified through speakers, cut through the noise.

  She glanced toward the event hall.

  And froze.

  On stage, bathed in the glow of countless camera flashes, stood the four members of Eclipse, the idol group that had once been her world.

  Ji-an’s breath hitched.

  They hadn’t changed much. Their outfits were sleek, their smiles perfectly measured. But beneath their poised exteriors, she saw the same cutting glances, the same silent hierarchy she had once struggled against.

  Her gaze flickered to the leader—Choi Sera. Once her closest friend. Once the person who had stood beside her on every stage. Until she hadn’t.

  Sera was the first to notice her. A flicker of recognition flashed across her face before her lips curled into a perfectly practiced smile, laced with just a hint of amusement. It was the same look she always wore before delivering a veiled insult.

  Ji-an’s stomach twisted.

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  Beside Sera, another member, Min-joo, leaned over and whispered something. Ji-an didn’t hear it, but she caught the smirk that followed. The others chuckled, their expressions shifting from polite indifference to quiet mockery.

  They think I’m beneath them.

  The realization was like a slap.

  Ji-an’s fingers curled into fists. She could feel her pulse hammering in her throat, a storm of emotions rushing through her—anger, hurt, the sting of betrayal she thought she had buried long ago.

  Turn around. Walk away. Don’t give them the satisfaction.

  She started to move—

  But then—

  “Seo Ji-an!”

  A reporter’s voice rang out, cutting through the noise like a blade.

  The room fell silent.

  Cameras shifted. Lenses refocused.

  Ji-an’s breath caught as dozens of eyes turned to her.

  She felt trapped.

  On stage, Sera let out a soft, deliberate gasp, her expression a perfect imitation of pleasant surprise. “Ji-an?” Her voice rang out sweetly, effortlessly taking control of the moment. “It’s been so long. I hope you’ve been doing well.”

  Her tone was light, concerned even, but Ji-an knew better. It was a performance.

  The reporters waited, microphones raised, sensing the tension in the air. The rest of the Eclipse members watched with amusement, their carefully schooled expressions betraying nothing.

  Ji-an swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her face neutral.

  They want a reaction. They want me to flinch.

  Before she could decide what to do, a suited figure stepped forward.

  “Miss Ji-an is a guest at this hotel,” a security guard announced firmly, stepping between her and the reporters. “Please respect her privacy.”

  A second guard moved swiftly to the side of the stage, leaning in to whisper something to Eclipse’s manager. Ji-an saw the subtle nod that followed—an unspoken instruction to not let the situation escalate.

  Ji-an’s lips parted slightly as the realization sank in.

  This isn’t a coincidence.

  Joon-ho.

  He had arranged this. Not just the security, but everything.

  A mix of emotions churned in her chest—frustration at his interference, relief that she wasn’t being thrown to the wolves, and something else. Something she wasn’t ready to name.

  Ji-an inhaled deeply, steadying herself. She would not be pulled into their game.

  Lifting her chin, she turned on her heel and walked away, her posture composed despite the storm inside her.

  Her manager was already waiting near the elevators.

  The moment Ji-an stepped inside, her manager pressed the button for the top floor. The doors slid shut, cutting off the noise from the lobby.

  Silence settled between them.

  Then, after a beat—

  “That was low, even for him,” her manager muttered, arms crossed.

  Ji-an exhaled sharply, leaning against the elevator wall. “Yeah.”

  Neither of them said his name. But they both knew.

  As the elevator ascended, Ji-an closed her eyes. Joon-ho had forced her to face the past—but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for what came next.

  The private lounge was silent except for the faint hum of the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Ji-an stood near the entrance, arms crossed tightly, her pulse still unsteady from what had just transpired downstairs.

  Joon-ho, seated casually on the sleek leather sofa, regarded her with a composed expression—unbothered, as if he hadn’t just orchestrated a confrontation that had shaken her to the core.

  Ji-an’s nails dug into her palm. “You planned this.”

  Joon-ho didn’t deny it. He simply exhaled, setting down his drink. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. I just... expedited the process.”

  Her jaw clenched. “You had no right.”

  He tilted his head, studying her. “Didn’t I? The way you reacted back there tells me you haven’t let it go. And if that’s the case, then this wasn’t just about me—it was about you, too.”

  Ji-an’s breath hitched, anger surging through her. “You don’t know anything about what happened.”

  Joon-ho leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know they looked down on you. I know they treated you like an afterthought. And I know you let them walk away with everything while you disappeared.” His voice remained even, but there was an edge to it—one that made her stomach twist.

  Ji-an turned away, staring out at the city lights. “I never wanted to go back.”

  “Then why are you still standing here?”

  The question hung in the air.

  Ji-an swallowed hard, her fingers tightening at her sides.

  Joon-ho sighed and rose to his feet, closing the distance between them. “I’m not asking you to go back to being an idol. That chapter’s over. I’m offering you something else. A chance to reclaim your career—on your own terms.”

  She frowned, hesitating. “What do you mean?”

  Joon-ho’s gaze was unwavering. “IMFG is changing. We’re not just another luxury brand anymore—we’re redefining what it means to be iconic. And I want you to be part of it. Not just as a model. Not just as a face. But as a symbol.”

  Ji-an stared at him, caught off guard by the weight of his words.

  “You know what the industry respects more than success? Reinvention.” He stepped closer. “You’ve been through hell, Ji-an. But people love a comeback story. A woman who doesn’t just rise again—but does it on her own terms. I’m giving you that chance. Not as a product. Not as someone else’s brand. As a partner.”

  Her breath wavered.

  She had vowed never to return to this world. Never to let herself be controlled again. But Joon-ho wasn’t offering control—he was offering power. A seat at the table. A role where she dictated the rules.

  Her heart pounded in her chest.

  Joon-ho studied her expression, then added one final thought.

  “You can either let them define your downfall… or take back the stage they stole from you.”

  Ji-an’s fingers trembled slightly, but she quickly steadied them. She didn’t give him an answer. Not yet.

  But as she turned to leave, something inside her shifted.

  A spark. A thought. A possibility.

  She had spent years running from her past.

  Maybe it was time to stop running.

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