Autumn had not yet fully claimed its place. The sun filtered through thin clouds, gifting the city a few precious warm days. Arina sat on a park bench by the lake near her home, watching ducks that, for some reason, didn’t seem eager to fly south this year.

In her ears, as always, played LUMEN’s songs. One might think that after so many months she had listened to everything a hundred times over, but each track still revealed something new — a fresh emotion, a hidden note, a quiet ache. The music felt alive, as if it breathed with her.

Suddenly, her phone screen lit up — a new post from Han Yeon-seok’s official page. Arina’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly tapped the notification. These days, when the group wasn’t performing together, the members’ solo projects were her main source of joy.

As she expected, it was a teaser for Sai’s new album. The short clip played — dynamic, powerful, nothing like his usual soft ballads. Though he often joked that he was “a rocker at heart,” most of his solo tracks had always been lyrical and emotional.

Beneath the post, she saw a comment from the official account: fans could expect not only the new album but also “several exciting announcements” that Sai would share in a live broadcast later that evening. Arina glanced at her watch.

“Six p.m. there… so the live will start around nine,” she murmured.

Living between two time zones had become normal for her — as if she existed in two worlds. By day, she was a disciplined project manager, calm and precise. By night, she became someone else entirely — a woman who lived and breathed music and creativity.

During the day, Arina hid her passion, masking her emotions behind professionalism. But when evening came, she came alive again — sitting at her laptop, editing videos, sketching designs. That was when she truly breathed.
On fan sites, she had found her people — kindred spirits who understood her world. They supported her. But her truest source of inspiration remained the members themselves: their journey, their struggles, their resilience. Each new article or interview made her feel closer to them.

“The live is starting!”

Arina hurried into her favorite café, ordered a coffee, and settled by the window. Outside, rain drummed softly against the glass. Inside, the air was warm and smelled of cinnamon and fresh pastries.

When Sai’s face appeared on the screen, Arina’s heart fluttered. His smile — that smile that made his eyes disappear into crescents — filled her with warmth. Behind him played an instrumental version of his new single, while his voice, calm and deep, filled the space between them.

Then, in response to a question from off-camera, he said:
“I think fans already know that LUMEN has always been like a family. It’s been almost three years since our last concert. It wasn’t an easy time. Many thought we had disbanded since none of us renewed our contracts… but I couldn’t let that happen. After talking with the members, we decided to start our own company — one that will focus solely on LUMEN. And very soon… we’ll be back — stronger than ever.”

Arina gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. People at the neighboring tables turned to look at her in surprise. She muttered an embarrassed apology, but her heart was racing too fast to stop.

“I can’t believe it… they’re coming back…” she whispered. A hot tear rolled down her cheek.

But another thought immediately struck her: What about Hyeon Woo?
Would he return?
Could he sing again?

Her hands trembled as she searched the news, but there wasn’t much yet — only one article confirming that Sai would become CEO of the new company, and that all decisions would now be made collectively.

“Maybe… maybe this is my chance,” she breathed, opening the folder where she kept her design drafts — months of sketches for possible LUMEN merchandise.

On the fan site Lightletters, she entered the chatroom to ask for advice. Among the flood of comments, one suggestion stood out: “Try INNERLINE — it’s a platform that sometimes collaborates directly with idol agencies.”

That same evening, Arina registered an account. She uploaded her designs and attached a short, heartfelt message:

“I would be honored if my ideas could be of any use to your team. It’s a privilege just to contribute — even a little — to the world of LUMEN.”

“No expectations…” she whispered, clicking send.
But her heart knew — hope always remained.

She turned on a drama starring Theo — a story about a cat who waited faithfully for his owner and could take human form only when she was near. It wasn’t just a love story — it was about loyalty, about how deeply animals could love and wait. Arina’s chest tightened. She reached out, pulled her cat close, and buried her face in the soft gray fur. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, disappearing in the warmth of her pet’s coat.

A notification suddenly popped up on the screen. Arina wiped her face and clicked.
The message was written in Hangul:

“We appreciate your attention and respect for our artists. Your ideas truly impressed us. In light of upcoming promotional developments, we would like to offer you a collaboration opportunity.
For further details, please contact us at contact@lumiside.com.

Sincerely,
LUMISIDE Entertainment.”

Arina froze. Her heart skipped a beat — then another. She read the message once. Then again. A third time.

Two in the morning. Which meant — eight a.m. in Seoul.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her laptop and began typing her reply. Her fingers trembled; her breath came fast and shallow.
But inside her, a flame was burning — joy, hope, and the undeniable feeling that her path, no matter how difficult, was finally beginning to make sense.