Yeon-jin smirked and nudged her playfully. “Not bad, starlet. You handled those reporters like a pro. Almost like you never left the industry.”
Ji-an exhaled, shaking her head. “I wasn’t expecting it. The moment we stepped out, the flashes were blinding.”
Seul-bi, sitting across from them, was already glued to her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. “You might want to start expecting it now,” she said, eyes scanning the news feeds. “You’re trending.”
Ji-an blinked. “What?”
Seul-bi turned the screen toward her, displaying multiple articles and social media posts exploding with speculation. Some questioned her return, others dissected her transformation, and a few were already spinning romantic rumors about her and Joon-ho.
“‘Kang Joon-ho’s mysterious beauty—new muse or new romance?’” Yeon-jin read aloud dramatically, grinning. “Oh, this is gold.”
Ji-an groaned. “Seriously?”
Joon-ho, sitting across from them, remained unbothered, scrolling through his own phone as if the chaos outside was nothing more than background noise.
Ji-an crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. “You called them, didn’t you?”
Joon-ho smirked but didn’t look up. “And if I did?”
“You didn’t even warn me!” Ji-an exclaimed.
Joon-ho finally glanced at her, his expression calm but firm. “You need to learn to expect the unexpected in this industry. Public perception matters. The sooner you get used to it, the better.”
Ji-an pressed her lips together, frustration warring with understanding. He wasn’t wrong—this was the game she had chosen to re-enter. And Kang Joon-ho, with all his calculated moves, was making sure she played it right.
Her fingers drifted to the fabric of her dress, feeling the expensive material beneath her touch. Everything about her right now—the perfectly styled hair, the flawless makeup, the way the outfit hugged her form—felt like an illusion. Like she had stepped into someone else’s life, wearing a mask that didn’t quite belong to her.
Yet, when she looked into the tinted limo window, the reflection staring back at her was undeniably hers.
For years, she had avoided looking too closely. She had dulled herself down, blending into the background, shying away from anything that could remind her of what she had lost. But now, seeing herself like this—refined, elegant, exuding a confidence she wasn’t even sure she fully possessed—something stirred inside her.
This wasn’t just a makeover.
This was a reawakening.
A silent storm brewed within her chest. She had spent so long hiding from the world, believing she had no place in it anymore. But here she was, seated in a limousine, next to a man like Kang Joon-ho, her name already back on the lips of the media. Whether she was ready or not, the world was watching.
The limo came to a smooth stop in front of Ji-an’s apartment complex. The quiet street was a stark contrast to the flashing cameras and murmuring press they had left behind.
Seul-bi glanced up from her phone. “No reporters here. Looks like we managed to shake them off—at least for tonight.”
Ji-an let out a breath of relief. She reached for the door handle, but before she could step out, Joon-ho spoke.
“Be ready by seven tomorrow.”
She turned to look at him. “For what?”
Joon-ho’s gaze was steady, unreadable. “Your training begins.”
Ji-an frowned. “Training?”
Yeon-jin chuckled. “Oh, sweetheart, did you think a comeback was as easy as putting on a nice dress and walking out of a café?”
Ji-an’s fingers tightened on the door handle. “I know it’s not easy,” she said, a hint of irritation in her voice.
“Then act like it,” Joon-ho replied smoothly. “Starting tomorrow, you’re under IMFG’s care. You’ll go through vocal training, physical conditioning, and media coaching. If you want to survive this industry again, you’ll have to keep up.”
Ji-an stared at him. She had expected challenges, but the way he said it—so matter-of-fact, so unyielding—made it feel like she was being thrown into a battlefield rather than making a comeback.
She exhaled sharply, schooling her expression. “Fine. I’ll be ready.”
Joon-ho gave a satisfied nod. “Good.”
Without another word, Ji-an stepped out of the limo, the night air cool against her skin. As the car pulled away, she stood there for a moment, staring at its retreating taillights.
She glanced down at herself again—the expensive dress, the pristine makeup.
Tomorrow, the real work would begin.
With a deep breath, she turned on her heels and walked toward her apartment, her determination set in stone.
The next morning, Ji-an stepped into the towering IMFG headquarters. Unlike her last visit, there was a noticeable shift in the way staff regarded her. The once-indifferent employees now stole glances as she walked past, some offering polite nods, others whispering behind their hands.
She wasn’t just Seo Ji-an, the forgotten idol, anymore. She was someone worth watching.
The elevator doors slid open to the executive floor, and she was ushered into the conference room. Joon-ho sat at the head of the table, cool and composed. Seul-bi, always efficient, had her tablet in hand, ready to present. Several members of the PR and marketing teams filled the room, their attention divided between their screens and the conversation ahead.
As Ji-an took her seat, Seul-bi spoke first. “Overnight media coverage has been… interesting.” She tapped her screen, and the main display flickered to life, revealing a flood of headlines and online chatter.
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“Seo Ji-an spotted with IMFG CEO Kang Joon-ho.”
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“Comeback or scandal?”
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“IMFG’s next big project: Former idol Seo Ji-an.”
Ji-an’s stomach tightened as she scanned the reactions. Some were hopeful, nostalgic fans cheering for her return. Others were more skeptical, questioning if she was relevant enough for a comeback. And then there were the harsher ones—the ones calling her a failure, a shadow of her former self.
Seul-bi didn’t sugarcoat it. “Reactions are mixed, which is expected. But the good news is—your name is trending.”
Joon-ho leaned forward, his fingers laced together. “That’s exactly what we wanted.”
Ji-an exhaled slowly. This was bigger than anything she had experienced before. Every move was calculated. Every reaction, anticipated. And now, her next step had to be just as deliberate.
Joon-ho gestured toward the screen. “Here’s the plan.”
The atmosphere in the room shifted as he took control of the conversation.
“We’re not confirming anything yet,” he began. “Let the speculation grow. The more they talk, the more attention we’ll get.”
A PR executive nodded. “If we deny or confirm too soon, we lose control of the narrative. The best move is to feed their curiosity without giving them all the answers.”
Ji-an listened, absorbing the strategy. It was different from her idol days, where companies simply pushed out content and hoped for the best. This was a power play—letting the public chase after them instead of the other way around.
Joon-ho continued, “To build anticipation, we’re going to release a set of teaser photos. High-quality, striking, but subtle enough to keep people guessing.”
Seul-bi swiped on her tablet, pulling up a series of concept drafts on the main screen.
Ji-an’s breath caught as she took in the images.
The first was a minimalist portrait—a monochrome shot of her in an off-shoulder gown, her face half-shadowed. It was mysterious, elegant, nothing like the staged idol teasers she was used to.
The second was more avant-garde. A close-up of her eyes, framed by soft, golden light, with strands of hair falling delicately over her face. It wasn’t about looking pretty—it was about presence.
The third concept was bold. A sleek, modern look with an oversized blazer draped over her shoulders, exuding power and control.
“These aren’t the idol-style teasers you did before,” Seul-bi said, reading Ji-an’s expression. “They’re designed to change how people perceive you.”
Ji-an slowly nodded. “It’s… different.”
Joon-ho smirked. “That’s the point.”
The PR team chimed in. “We’ll stagger the release of the photos. No captions, no official statements. Just the images. Let people interpret them however they want.”
Another executive added, “We’ll work with select media outlets to guide the initial narrative. The goal is to establish you as someone stepping into a new phase, not just reliving past glory.”
Seul-bi flipped to another screen. “And for crisis management—if Eclipse or anti-fans try to stir up negativity, we’ll be prepared. We’ve already flagged journalists with ties to Eclipse. They won’t get access to our official releases.”
Joon-ho’s voice was firm. “Blacklist them.”
The weight of it all settled on Ji-an’s shoulders, but this time, she didn’t feel overwhelmed.
Instead, she felt ready.
She met Joon-ho’s gaze, her determination solidifying.
“You don’t need to prove anything to them,” he said. “Just focus on proving it to yourself.”
Ji-an exhaled, then nodded.
“Understood.”
The meeting continued, the wheels of her comeback already in motion.
And for the first time in years, Ji-an felt like she was the one in control of her own story.
The internet was in chaos. Within hours, Seo Ji-an's name was everywhere. Social media feeds were flooded with posts, comments, and theories, making #SeoJiAnReturns, #KangJoonHoMysteryWoman, and #EclipseScandalResurfaces the hottest trending topics of the day.
"Wait, is that really Seo Ji-an? I almost didn’t recognize her."
"I thought she disappeared after the scandal. Now she’s suddenly making headlines again? Something feels off."
"She looks so different. More mature, more confident. This isn’t the same Ji-an from Eclipse."
"IMFG backing her comeback? That’s not normal. A major conglomerate wouldn’t invest in a failed idol without a reason."
Some fans were thrilled, seeing her transformation as a well-deserved redemption arc.
"She was always talented. The industry did her dirty. Maybe this is her second chance."
"I can’t believe how gorgeous she looks. That dress, that confidence—she’s on a whole different level now."
"I was a casual fan back then, but after seeing her comeback like this, I want to support her."
But not everyone was convinced.
"This is obviously a PR stunt. She vanished for years, and now she’s back just because Kang Joon-ho says so? Please."
"I don’t buy it. She’s probably just his new business project."
"People forgot what happened before, huh? She was never that successful, and now we’re supposed to act like she’s some legend?"
Then, a surprising twist. A well-known influencer posted a nostalgic clip of Ji-an’s past performance with Eclipse. It was one of her best moments—her voice strong, her expression full of passion, a stark contrast to the messy rumors that surrounded her departure.
"People are hating, but let’s not forget this Ji-an. She had the talent. Maybe she never got a fair chance."
The video reignited old memories, and the conversation took a turn.
"Damn, I forgot how good she was. Maybe she really was just in the wrong group."
"Imagine if she comes back stronger than before. That would be the ultimate comeback story."
"It makes you wonder… was Eclipse the problem all along?"
As debates raged on, Ji-an's name remained at the center of it all. Whether people supported her or doubted her, they couldn’t ignore her.
Inside the entertainment industry, Ji-an’s sudden resurgence sent waves through major agencies, brands, and media outlets.
"Seo Ji-an is trending? That’s unexpected," a veteran journalist muttered as he scrolled through his phone. "I need a deep dive article on this by tomorrow. Dig into her past, and see if there’s anything new on IMFG’s involvement."
Editors and producers rushed to capitalize on the buzz, republishing old interviews and writing think pieces about her potential comeback.
"This could go two ways," an industry insider said during a private meeting. "Either she fades out again, or IMFG turns her into something much bigger than she ever was in Eclipse. Either way, we need to be ready."
Meanwhile, brands and sponsors were carefully watching the numbers. Some remained hesitant, waiting to see if Ji-an’s resurgence would last, while others saw a golden opportunity.
"We should consider reaching out," one fashion executive suggested. "If she maintains this image, she could be perfect for our next campaign."
Another brand representative nodded. "Agreed. But we need to move fast before our competitors do."
At the same time, talent agencies were adjusting their strategies.
"Kang Joon-ho isn’t someone who plays small," an executive at a rival agency said. "If he’s involved, this isn’t just a one-time stunt. IMFG might be making a serious move into entertainment."
"So what do we do?" another manager asked.
"Push our artists harder. We can’t let this shake up the balance. And keep an eye on Eclipse—they won’t sit still after this."
Seo Ji-an wasn’t just making a comeback—she was forcing the entire industry to pay attention.
Eclipse’s Reaction
The moment Ji-an’s name started trending, Eclipse’s agency was thrown into chaos. Executives scrambled into a closed-door meeting, their expressions tense as they scanned the social media reports.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” the CEO said, placing his phone on the table with an audible thud. “She was finished. How did she suddenly make a comeback?”
“More importantly,” another manager added, “why is IMFG involved? They don’t just back someone for no reason.”
There was silence in the room as they processed the implications. If a powerhouse like IMFG was supporting Ji-an, this wasn’t just a one-time viral moment—it was the start of something much bigger.
Meanwhile, Eclipse’s leader, Sera, was in the middle of a live broadcast when a fan asked about Ji-an.
“Comeback? What comeback?” Sera let out a light laugh, her tone dismissive. “I think people are overthinking things. Anyway, let’s focus on Eclipse’s next project, okay?”
On the surface, she looked unbothered, but the moment the camera was off, her smile faded. She scrolled through the trending topics on her phone, her fingers gripping the device a little too tightly.
“This can’t be happening,” she muttered under her breath.
A few seats away, another Eclipse member watched the news in silence. She had once been close to Ji-an, but after everything that happened, she had no choice but to distance herself. Seeing Ji-an’s name everywhere brought back memories—good ones. Though she kept her face neutral, deep down, she felt something close to relief.
“She’s back,” she thought. “I hope she does well.”
Back at the agency meeting, the discussion turned toward their next move.
“Do we acknowledge her, or do we act like she doesn’t exist?” one executive asked.
“If we ignore her, she’ll control the narrative,” another argued. “We need to act fast.”
The CEO nodded. “Then let’s consider our options.”
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Rush Eclipse’s New Album Launch
“We move up the album release. Flood the market with new content, teasers, and exclusive interviews. We need to dominate the headlines before Ji-an has the chance to gain momentum.”
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Leaking Old Stories
“We have dirt on her. Let’s remind people why she disappeared in the first place. We don’t have to make it obvious—it just needs to be enough to plant doubt.”
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Cutting Off Brand Deals
“Start reaching out to sponsors. Make it clear that associating with Ji-an is risky. If IMFG is backing her, they’ll put up a fight, but we can at least slow things down.”
The CEO leaned back, his expression unreadable. “No matter what, we cannot let her win.”