Before every concert, somewhere in the depths of the stadium, it's always a flurry of motion.
The idols, the stagehands, the lighting crew, the audio engineers, the ushers—everyone is working in perfect synchrony to bring the show to life. It's a massive production, but somehow, every moving piece knows its part. The main stage is set, waiting patiently for its stars to shine.
But it's not just the inside of the stadium buzzing with life. Outside, the chaos is just as intense. The line of fans stretches endlessly—ticket scanners blinking, merchandise bags rustling, excited voices blending into a wall of noise. The crowd grows by the minute, enough to overwhelm anyone unaccustomed to it.
Inside, in the middle of all the controlled chaos, Mirae steps out of the stylist room for a moment, her curiosity piqued.
"Wow, there are so many people!" she says in awe, her eyes wide.
Lee Jinha, the group's stylist and her unofficial guardian since she's the youngest, quickly walks up to her.
"Mirae, let's head back. Time's ticking," she says gently.
"Yes, Jinha-ssi," Mirae nods and follows her.
The stylist room is arguably the busiest corner of the stadium. Everyone's focused, immersed in their own tasks, completely unaware of anything outside their bubble. Amid the flurry, Jinha raises her voice just enough to command attention.
"I'm excited to reveal LUNAE's final stage theme."
The room stills briefly. All eyes turn to her.
"This theme—this performance—will make you the brightest stars the world has ever seen."
Yuna's ears twitch slightly at the declaration. She doesn't say much, but deep down she trusts Jinha. She always delivers. Even if her words sound like fantasy, they never fall short.
"Why do stylists always call us stars?" Yuna jokes.
"Yeah, honestly, I'm getting tired of it," Sera chimes in with a grin.
"What's wrong with stars, unnie?" Nari asks sincerely, tilting her head.
Sera, always quick with a quip, smirks. "Because stars are hot, and we're cute."
Yuna winces. "Stop it, Sera."
"Why?? Hahahaha!" Sera laughs at Yuna's reaction.
While the rest of the group is chatting and laughing, one member remains quiet—Minji.
She's seated in front of the mirror, eyes locked on her reflection, while the assistant stylists fix her hair. The serious expression on her face is nothing new. The members have seen it countless times and no longer question it. This is just how Minji gets before every performance—focused, intense, all business.
That's why she's always rated highest by the company. She treats every stage like it's her last. But under that steel exterior, there's always something stirring.
"This is the face they all go crazy for?" she thinks to herself. It's a question she asks every time. Like a ritual. "I'm astonished."
Despite the attention and the praise, she only sees herself as a product. A projection. She doesn't quite understand why people love her—especially when she's not even sure she loves what she does.
Her phone vibrates on the table. A message. But Minji, caught in her thoughts, doesn't notice it.
Sera strolls over, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.
"Minji-yah, that face is so ugly," she teases, leaning in.
"I know, right," Minji replies flatly.
"Come on, leader. Stop making that face. The performance is starting soon."
Sera's playful nudge softens Minji's expression, her lips twitching into a smile.
"There we go," Sera says, pinching her cheeks. "There she is—the pretty Minji."
"I get it, I get it—it's starting to hurt," Minji says with a small laugh.
Despite her antics, Sera is the group's spark—their endless source of energy and light. If the group were a machine, Sera would be the engine keeping it running.
"Hahaha, Minji is really cute, isn't she?" Sera giggles.
"Stop teasing Minji and go get ready," Yuna calls out.
"Yes, yes, Yuno," Sera says teasingly.
"Hey! Stop calling me that."
"Anyway, Minji, are you ready?" Yuna asks, turning to her.
"Of course, unnie," Minji replies, smiling.
The room begins to settle. Final touches are made. One by one, the members head toward the backstage area. The tension begins to rise.
As soon as they arrive, staff swarm around them like bees—mic packs are strapped, in-ears are adjusted. Every second brings them closer to the moment.
The atmosphere is electric.
The cheers grow louder. A storm of noise.
The crowd is a wave of emotion, shouting the names of their biases like their lives depend on it. Light sticks flash in every color imaginable. Banners wave. Phones rise to the air. Anticipation hangs heavy in the space between each heartbeat.
The beams from the overhead rig flash like shooting stars, and the full moon on the digital screen glows in its bluest hue.
This is it.
Backstage, the director gives a thumbs up. The MC nods and walks toward the center of the dark stage.
The lights go out.
Only the glow of light sticks and cell phone screens remain. The fans erupt into screams.
A single spotlight cuts through the darkness, landing on the MC at center stage. He lifts the microphone to his mouth.
And with a voice that echoes through the hearts of every person there, he asks:
"Are you guys ready?"
No one knows what this night will hold.
But one thing is certain—
The stars can hear the roar.