CHAPTER 214: CHAPTER 214: THE NEXT MOVE

The week began with the kind of chaos Harin both craved and dreaded. It started with a wave—emails stacking up, messages pinging at every hour, brand offers coming in from every direction. The conference had done its job too well: LUNE was hot property now, everyone wanted a piece, and Harin felt the heat even in her bones.

She hadn’t even finished her first coffee when her assistant, always prompt, always "helpful," entered with a neat stack of printouts and an iPad in hand. "Here’s the latest shortlist, Director. I flagged the most promising opportunities—potential sponsors, two new fashion house collaborations, a song contest pitch, and some interesting investment inquiries." The assistant’s smile was polite, posture deferential, but her eyes flickered sharp and alert.

Harin barely glanced up, already scrolling through her phone. "Summarize the outliers."

"Several international brands—some with old connections to EON, but the paperwork looks clean. There’s also a cluster of new offers from smaller agencies, all hitting the same week. I recommend taking a closer look; these have high potential but would need more due diligence."

Harin set her mug down and tapped through the list. There was a familiar name buried in the pile—a holding company she remembered from one of EON’s old joint ventures, but the proposal itself was impeccable. She marked it for the legal team’s eyes, then scrolled on, pausing every so often to circle notes in red.

"Sort these by deadline and schedule a vetting call with legal this afternoon," she said, distracted. "And send flowers to that stylist who bailed us out last minute at the launch. The white orchids, not lilies. Lilies are for funerals."

Her assistant nodded, scribbling fast. "On it."

It wasn’t the first time Harin had moved this fast, but something about the pace was new—dangerous. In the back of her mind, she kept turning over the warning email, the string of "lucky" breaks and sudden opportunities. She pushed the thought aside, determined not to let paranoia cloud her judgment. LUNE was in the spotlight now. They couldn’t afford to hesitate.

Friday night. Mirae stood backstage at the midtown event hall, nerves and adrenaline sparking in her chest. She could hear the roar of fans, hundreds crowding the velvet ropes, waving phones and homemade banners, screaming her name. She’d been to enough of these events to know the drill—smile, pose, sign everything, stay just out of arm’s reach—but this was the first time she wasn’t just an idol under contract. Now, she was the face of LUNE, and the pressure was a drug she’d never felt before.

Joon-ho lingered at the edge of the green room, sleeves rolled, clipboard in hand, looking every bit the unflappable manager. "Five minutes," he called out, and the team snapped to attention, checking schedules, prepping gifts, rehearsing security rotations.

Mirae smoothed her hair, ran a glossed finger over her lips, and grinned at Harin, who had just arrived with Su-bin in tow. "Ready to watch me work, boss?" she teased.

Harin smiled, but her eyes were already scanning the crowd. "Don’t make my job harder. Stay close to security, okay?"

"I always do," Mirae promised, but there was a glint in her eye—mischief, nerves, excitement, all mixed together.

When the doors opened, the crowd surged. The room was a sea of arms, camera flashes popping like firecrackers. Mirae worked the rope line with practiced charm—signing shirts, snapping selfies, letting fans press gifts into her hands. The energy was intoxicating, the noise a tidal wave. For an hour, she belonged to them, and she loved it.

But the crowd had teeth. As she moved toward a group of younger fans near the corner, she felt the press get tighter—security nudged forward, bodies shifting. Suddenly a tall man in a worn-out idol tee shoved past the barrier, reaching for her with a wide, eager grin.

His hand shot out, fingers grabbing for Mirae’s waist—too low, too bold, his breath hot on her ear. Time slowed for a heartbeat, and Mirae’s smile flickered. She jerked away instinctively, but before his fingers made contact, one of LUNE’s bodyguards was already there, intercepting, forcing the man’s arm up behind his back in a rough twist.

The crowd gasped, some screaming, others booing. The would-be groper snarled, fighting the hold, and three more security guards rushed in, muscling him and his buddies out of the line, their faces twisted with a mix of fear and bravado. Mirae stumbled, breathless, her heart pounding.

For a moment, the scene teetered on the edge—tense, chaotic, the wrong word away from disaster. But Harin was there in seconds, hand at Mirae’s elbow, voice cold and steady. "Back up. Everyone. Give her space."

Joon-ho barked at the team, "Circle her. Now!" The staff closed in, shielding Mirae with their bodies as the crowd parted, more fans shouting for the offenders to be thrown out.

Mirae’s hands shook, but she forced herself to stand tall. "Thank you, everyone," she said, voice steady even as her heart raced. "Let’s keep things safe and fun, okay?" She waved, forced a smile, let the crowd see she was okay—even though her whole body buzzed with adrenaline and the tang of fear.

The event moved on, security now tight as a drum. Harin and Su-bin never left her side, while Joon-ho walked the line, eyes narrowed, every sense on edge. The meet-and-greet finished without another hitch, but by the end, Mirae’s nerves were frayed, the high from earlier curdling into exhaustion.

The SNS storm was instant. Before Mirae had even changed out of her stage clothes, clips of the near-assault were already on Twitter, Instagram, Discord. The hashtags blew up: #ProtectMirae #LUNEStandsStrong #FanRespect. LUNE’s account posted a firm statement thanking their security team, calling out inappropriate behavior, and promising even higher standards for future events.

Fans flooded Mirae’s mentions with outrage and support.

"Unbelievable. No idol should ever be grabbed like that."

"Security did amazing—thank you for protecting her."

"Who the hell let those assholes in?"

"She looked so scared—please take care of her!"

For every angry post, there were two more praising LUNE’s handling of the situation. Some eagle-eyed netizens noticed the would-be assailant’s shirt, matching it to EON’s old fan merch. Rumors began to swirl: Were they really fans, or plants sent to cause trouble? Was EON behind it? The speculation only made the story burn hotter.

Mirae watched it all from her hotel suite, wrapped in a blanket, phone vibrating every minute. She responded with a simple message:"Thank you for loving me. Thank you for protecting each other. I’m okay. Let’s look out for each other—always."

She set the phone aside and leaned into Joon-ho’s arms, letting him rub her back until the shakes faded.

Harin stayed late in the office, double-checking every contract, every new partnership request. Her assistant was there too, staying just a little longer than usual, "helping" file and label, sorting the most urgent proposals.

They worked in tense silence, only the sound of keyboards and the hum of city traffic far below. Harin tried to ignore the knot in her stomach—a sense that she was missing something, some detail that was about to slip through her fingers.

Her assistant set a final stack of folders on the desk. "These are ready for sign-off. I left notes for the vetting team on the digital files too."

"Thank you," Harin said, distracted. "You can head home. I’ll finish up here."

The assistant lingered, watching her, but Harin didn’t look up again until she heard the elevator doors close. She slumped back, rubbing her temples, and opened the flagged folder. The logo on one of the "selected" proposals nagged at her—a shadow of something familiar. She bookmarked it for a second look, telling herself she’d sleep on it.

Meanwhile, Su-bin prowled the building’s security office, eyes narrowed as she reviewed footage from the fan event. The would-be groper’s face was already being run through LUNE’s private facial recognition, but she watched the staff too—studying movements, looking for irregularities.

She rewound to the moments before the incident, eyes catching on Harin’s assistant moving through the restricted staff area, checking guest lists and talking to security guards. It looked normal, but the pattern felt off: lingering too long at the door, glancing over her shoulder, slipping a small envelope into the lost and found bin.

Su-bin flagged the timestamp and started a quiet background check on the assistant, pulling her previous employment records, looking for connections to EON or other rivals. She didn’t say anything to Harin yet—she wanted to be sure before making accusations—but the suspicion was coiling tighter with every new frame.

Saturday morning. LUNE’s offices buzzed with the afterglow of viral support and the sting of last night’s scare. Mirae arrived early, still a little shaken but refusing to hide. She greeted fans waiting outside, all of them respectful, some even holding signs: "Thank you, LUNE Security!" and "Mirae, we love you—stay safe!"

Harin called a staff meeting to address what had happened. "No one gets close to our artists without two sets of eyes. From now on, all guest passes are checked twice, and any fan flagged for prior incidents is on the watch list. I want our people to feel safe at every event—no exceptions."

Joon-ho stood beside her, nodding. "The team did great last night, but we can always be better. We have to be—there are too many people who’d love to see us fail."

Mirae squeezed Harin’s hand after the meeting, voice quiet. "Thanks for having my back."

Harin softened, brushing a stray hair from Mirae’s cheek. "Always. We’re a team. That means protecting each other—even from things we can’t see yet."

In the background, Su-bin watched Harin’s assistant interact with the others, noting every stray glance, every too-eager offer to help. She made a note to cross-check the assistant’s call logs and recent device usage. No one was above suspicion now.

That afternoon, Harin met with the legal team about the new batch of proposals. Most were legitimate, but two had ties that didn’t sit right. The small print, the too-generous terms, the vague references to overseas "strategic partners"—it all felt like a setup, the kind of bait EON would dangle to drag them into a legal mess or a public scandal.

She called Joon-ho in to review. "I’m not signing anything until Su-bin clears these. And I want a background check on everyone connected. We’re not losing our momentum over some backdoor trap."

He agreed, scanning the files, then wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind. "You’re right. We’re too close to something big to let them tear it down."

Harin closed her eyes, letting herself lean into his warmth, grateful for just a moment of quiet in the storm.

That evening, Mirae livestreamed a quick thank-you for her fans, fielding a thousand messages of love and worry. She answered questions, promised to stay safe, and ended the call with a wink. "I’m not going anywhere. We’re just getting started."

Harin watched from her office, pride and anxiety tangled together. She sent a final text to Su-bin: Keep digging. Let me know the moment you find anything.

In the darkness beyond the glass, Seoul glimmered with promise and threat—every win making LUNE a bigger target, every new move more dangerous. But inside the building, beneath the glare and the gossip, their circle was tight and getting tighter. For now, that was enough.

But somewhere, in the city’s shadows, a message was being sent, a plan set in motion—one more move in a game that was far from over.