The meeting room on the seventh floor of LUMINAIRE Entertainment felt far too spacious for Han Nari. The cold air from the AC grazed her skin like needles, yet her palms remained clammy with sweat. Her fingers clutched a sketchbook on her lap, the pen she had been spinning now motionless between her fingers.

“Focus, Nari. This is just work. Nothing more.”

But the tightness in her chest refused to subside.

This wasn’t just another project.

This was the comeback — the most anticipated return of Korea’s top idol group, LUMINA. All eyes in the music industry were locked on this campaign. And if she failed…

“You’ve worked too hard to mess this up now. Don’t let it fall apart.”

“Is the concept ready?” asked a staff member sitting at the end of the table, his tone casual, his smile reassuring.

Nari nodded quickly. “Y-Yes, I’ve prepared everything in the presentation,” she replied, her voice faintly trembling.

She had barely begun to relax when the door creaked open behind her. The room fell into a hush.

Footsteps echoed — slow, composed, and authoritative.

Every person in the room instinctively straightened in their seat.

Seven men walked in, each of them carrying a presence that weighed down the room. The staff who had been murmuring moments ago now bowed with practiced respect.

Among them… was Lee Jihoon.

Leader of LUMINA.

The man who once patted her head and said,

"You’ll be a great designer one day, Nari."

The man who disappeared without a word, leaving a hollow space in her chest that never quite closed.

Jihoon walked at the front. His jet-black hair was slicked back neatly, and his features looked colder, more mature — a far cry from the boy she once knew. The black shirt he wore sharpened the contrast of his chiseled face, making him look even more distant… unreachable.

And then their eyes met.

Just a fraction of a second.

But it was long enough for her world to stop.

Jihoon’s pace faltered ever so slightly. His sharp gaze softened — a flicker of recognition? — before he returned to his professional composure.

“No way… he doesn’t recognize me. It’s been five years.”

Jihoon turned his head, nodding politely to the room. “Thank you for your hard work in preparing our comeback,” he said, his deep voice calm but commanding.

Nari quickly lowered her gaze, praying no one noticed the flush creeping up her cheeks.

“He doesn’t remember. He can’t. Don’t be ridiculous, Nari. He’s long forgotten.”

The meeting began.

Nari stood, presenting her design concept with a shaky voice, trying to keep her breathing even. She didn’t dare glance in his direction, but whenever she did — when her curiosity got the better of her — Jihoon looked entirely focused.

And yet… there were moments.

Moments when his eyes flicked toward her, when their gazes locked — brief but heavy enough to make her heart stumble.

Especially when he frowned slightly. That look — warm, piercing, and familiar.

Or maybe… it was just her imagination.

As the meeting drew to a close, Nari exhaled quietly, her fingers already gathering the pages of her sketchbook.

Then, the deep voice returned, cutting through the murmur of voices.

“This concept…” Jihoon said slowly, “…feels familiar.”

His baritone wasn’t loud, but it carried — silencing the room again.

“Like something from someone I used to know,” he added, his gaze resting briefly — deliberately — on Nari before he turned and walked out.

As he disappeared through the doorway, his cologne lingered in the air — clean, masculine, unmistakably Jihoon.

Nari froze, holding her breath.

The other staff began packing up, relieved and chatting again. Papers rustled, chairs screeched softly against the floor. But in her world, everything felt suspended.

“If he really remembers me… then what now?”

Her grip tightened around her pen.

A whirlwind of old emotions — grief, longing, confusion — stormed through her again after all these years.

“Han Nari-ssi, that was a wonderful presentation,” said one of the staff members, jolting her from her thoughts.

“Ah— th-thank you,” she replied, forcing a small, polite smile.

But inside, a single question refused to let go.

“Does he… truly still remember me?”

The practice studio still felt unfamiliar to Nari. The wide mirror across the room reflected her pale face—so tense, she almost didn’t recognize herself. The soft hum of a speaker playing low-tempo music filled the space, while the LED lights above cast a sterile glow on the hardwood floor.

In the far corner, several LUMINA members were casually gathered; one was stretching, another scrolling on his phone, and two others chatting quietly in their own world.

Nari tightened her grip around the folder in her hands. Her heart had yet to adjust to being in a space like this—so close to the people she'd only seen from a distance.

“Ah, so you’re the one who designed that?”

The voice startled her. Warm and familiar—Park Minjae’s voice.

She turned slightly and found him standing right in front of her, the kind of smile on his face that made it hard to look away.

“I really liked the concept. It’s elegant… but mysterious. Just like you.”

Nari blinked, visibly stunned. Her cheeks flushed in an instant, and she quickly lowered her gaze to hide her reaction.

“Ah… t-thank you…” she replied, barely audible.

Minjae chuckled softly, his voice velvety and pleasant. “You don’t have to be so nervous. We’re human too, you know?” he said, bending forward slightly, closing the space between them.

Her pulse quickened. Why is he being so nice? Do idols normally act this warm to staff? she thought, flustered.

Suddenly, a low voice cut through the air.

“Minjae.”

Just one word—but it shifted the entire mood in the studio.

Minjae turned to the side, still wearing that playful grin. “Yes, Hyung?”

“Stop bothering the staff.” Lee Jihoon’s voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable firmness.

The room fell still. Even the members who’d been chatting moments ago turned to glance at the scene unfolding.

Minjae raised both hands as if surrendering. “Alright, alright. I was just being friendly to the new staff, Hyung.” He stepped back, still grinning, though there was a knowing glint in his eyes as he glanced at Nari—This isn’t over.

Nari bowed slightly, her cheeks now fully flushed. Was Jihoon-ssi… angry? Or was he just protecting a colleague?

“Han Nari-ssi.”

Jihoon’s voice came again. This time, softer—but still commanding enough to send a chill down her spine.

She looked up slowly. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded, gaze locked on her. His eyes were intense—sharp, but with something warm hidden behind them. Something unreadable.

“Could you come with me for a moment?”

Nari froze. Her hand clenched slightly at her side as her heart thumped against her ribcage. She could feel Minjae’s eyes on her still, but she was too busy calming her own nerves.

Why now? Why is he acting like this all of a sudden? Could he… really remember?

She swallowed hard. The distance between them was short—but it felt like a thick wall of glass separated their worlds.

If he only knew… that I still remember everything from our childhood. His smile. The way he used to say my name. That tiny promise he forgot so easily.

Jihoon straightened from the wall, his eyes never leaving hers. “Nari-ssi?”

His voice dropped half a tone—just enough to make it impossible to ignore.

She finally forced herself to move, her legs feeling strangely heavy.

As she passed him, his subtle cologne drifted through the air—earthy and clean. And suddenly, everything came rushing back in a wave. The laughter from years ago, the small hand she used to hold, the warmth she’d buried deep.

Lee Jihoon… please don’t make me hope again.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re alright,” Jihoon murmured quietly before turning And walking off—leaving Nari behind, frozen, her heart pounding in her chest.

The hallway was unbearably silent as Nari followed Jihoon. Each step echoed against the white walls, which suddenly felt too narrow to contain the thoughts spinning in her head.

Why did he suddenly ask to talk? Does he know?

With every step, her chest tightened. She could faintly smell his cologne—one that was so familiar it hurt.

A door creaked open.

“Come in,” Jihoon said without looking back.

The room was a small practice studio with a large mirror on one wall and a long bench in the corner. Dim lighting stretched Jihoon's shadow across the wooden floor.

Nari stood stiffly near the entrance, hugging her folder tightly. Her hands trembled.

“Jihoon-ssi… what is it? If it’s about the design—”

“Han Nari.”

His voice cut her off. Nari looked up and found Jihoon staring at her—his gaze unreadable. Sharp, yet somehow gentle underneath.

“How long do you plan to pretend you don’t know me?” he asked softly.

Nari felt her heart stop.

“W-What do you mean…?”

Jihoon stepped closer. Every movement made her pulse race.

“You used to call me Jihoon-ah. Now you can’t even look me in the eyes.”

Nari instinctively took a step back, her spine nearly touching the mirror behind her.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He closed the distance again—now only half a meter separated them. She could hear his breath.

“Did you really think I’d forget the little Han Nari who used to draw in my backyard?” he whispered. “I remember everything.”

Nari clenched the folder tighter, her nails digging into her palms.

“That was a long time ago. You’re… a famous idol now. I’m just—”

“And you think fame makes me any less human?” Jihoon's gaze softened.

“I need to know… why did you disappear back then?”

Nari bit her lip, eyes glossing over. Feelings she had buried deep began to rise, uninvited and overwhelming.

“I… I was scared,” she whispered. “Scared that you’d change once you reached your dream.”

Jihoon exhaled deeply. His hand lifted slightly—almost touching her cheek—but he pulled it back.

“You were wrong. Not a day passed that I didn’t think of you.”

The room was so quiet, it felt like their heartbeats echoed in the air.

“Jihoon-ssi… we shouldn’t be doing this. I’m staff. You’re an idol. What if someone finds out?”

He let out a small, bitter smile. But his eyes held something she couldn’t name.

“And what if I don’t care?”

Before Nari could respond, a knock came at the door.

“Hyung! We’re starting choreography again!” Minjae’s voice called from the hallway.

Startled, Nari took a step back and accidentally dropped her folder. Papers scattered loudly across the floor. Jihoon immediately knelt to gather them, handing the folder back to her. Their fingers brushed—just a second—but the warmth burned into her skin.

“Don’t run from me again, Nari.” His voice was low but intense. His gaze pierced into hers. “I’ve already lost you once. I won’t let it happen again.”

Nari looked down, holding back the tears threatening to fall. Her whole body tensed, but her heart thudded violently inside her chest. She wanted to say something—anything—but her throat tightened.

Footsteps approached again.

“Hyung, come on! We’re all waiting,” Minjae’s voice came again, more impatient this time.

Nari quickly bowed, her voice cracking,

“I—I need to go.”

She rushed out before Jihoon could stop her again.

Outside, her steps were light—but her chest felt unbearably heavy.

“What if I… can’t stay away from him either?”