A folding table.
A secondhand laptop.
A busted light stand that flickered every five minutes.
This was LUMINA's new headquarters.
Their apartment living room had become their war room—an organized chaos of scribbled schedules, snack wrappers, demo CDs, and dream-blue sticky notes.
Kael sat cross-legged on the floor, headphones around his neck, working on the arrangement of their new song. Klan was curled up on the couch beside Tavi, sketching outfit designs in his notebook. Sion and Eren were huddled near the window, trying to figure out how to rent a performance venue without corporate backing.
No manager. No assistant. No media handler.
Just them.
Just music.
---
"Okay," Sion said, placing his phone down. "We can afford a rooftop venue in Itaewon. Outdoor, no permits required as long as we don't sell tickets."
Eren grinned. "A free concert? That's badass."
"More like broke-ass," Kael muttered, not looking up. "But it's real. It's ours."
Tavi raised his hand like a student. "Can we livestream it? So international fans can watch?"
Klan's eyes lit up. "Yes. And we can post countdown teasers. Make it feel official."
Kael looked up, pride softening the hard lines of his face. "Let's do it."
---
Over the next two weeks, they rehearsed harder than ever—sometimes until 3 a.m., collapsing into piles on the floor, laughing at their own exhaustion.
They borrowed lighting rigs from an old trainee friend.
They begged a film student to direct the live stream.
They even designed their own merchandise: hand-drawn postcards, lyric notebooks, and glow wristbands that Klan packaged himself.
It wasn't glamorous.
But it was theirs.
---
The Night of the Performance
The rooftop was small but framed by the Seoul skyline—neon dreams against a navy sky.
A soft wind stirred the curtains as fans began to arrive, some holding handmade signs, others clutching little LUMINA lightsticks with trembling hands.
Online, the stream count climbed past 100,000 within the first ten minutes.
Kael stood behind the curtain, watching the crowd gather. For the first time in weeks, he felt something he hadn't allowed himself in a long time.
Hope.
Klan appeared beside him, slipping his fingers into Kael's. "This time… no one owns us."
Kael turned. "This time, we own the moment."
---
The music started.
And the crowd fell silent.
Their new song, "Unwritten," was unlike anything LUMINA had released before. No stylized image, no safe lyrics. Just vulnerability.
🎤 "I was born in the silence, afraid to be seen—
Now I sing with no armor, just everything I've been."
The fans cried.
Sang along.
Held their lights high.
And in the final chorus, when Kael pulled Klan close and rested their foreheads together under the final spotlight… the world didn't break.
It bloomed.
---