The music in Cloud 9 throbbed on, deep and hypnotic, but the wild chaos of earlier had dulled to something silkier, darker. Half the crowd was already lost to the night—some stumbling out, others stumbling deeper into the shadows with a new lover or a clutch of friends. The air was rich with perfume, sweat, and booze. The club's best girls still owned the night.

LUNE's crew held their own kingdom. Min-Kyung and Rina, all gleaming legs and unruly hair, sprawled on the curved couch with Natty and Harin, drinks in hand. Hye-jin nursed a cocktail beside them, her laugh sharp as she traded idol war stories with a pair of influencer rookies still angling for a place in the LUNE orbit. Alina lounged at one end, leg draped over the arm, wincing as she shifted. Her ankle was swelling under the sheen of her stockings, but she waved off concern, raising her glass in a salute to Natty's joke about Moscow ice queens.

Harin's gaze lingered across the club, eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the crypto queen and her coven, now holding court in a nest of moneyed boys—some already groping, others fawning, all oblivious to the way those girls worked a room. Harin's jaw set, remembering the dig at Yura during the Hanzenith conference, the way this bitch had looked down on them and everything they'd built. The edge of a plan tugged at her mouth. She reached for her phone, thumbs flying, then looked up at the VIP room and flashed her screen in Joon-ho's direction.

Up above, Joon-ho saw the signal and checked his messages. Harin's words were blunt: "Make a scene. Steal the spotlight." He flicked his gaze over the balcony, reading the charged tension in the club, then texted back: "Send Hye-jin up first. Mirae's sleeping." Harin shot him a thumbs up, and after a few quiet words, Hye-jin slipped away toward the elevator.

Joon-ho ground out his cigarette, tossed back the last of his whiskey, and buttoned his jacket as he made his way down to the main floor. As soon as he appeared, Alina's friends—half-models, half-mischief-makers—lit up, a few pouting dramatically that Alina hadn't introduced them sooner. One slid into his path, tugging at his sleeve, a wicked grin on her lips.

"Alina, you've been hiding him from us?" she called out, loud enough for rival booths to catch.

Alina's eyes gleamed. "You can look. You can beg. But I don't share unless he wants it."

Another model, bolder, leaned in to whisper, "He's even hotter up close. Are all your parties this good?"

Joon-ho just smiled, letting them cluster around him. With a calm authority, he caught the waitress's eye. "Add all the drinks to the VIP room. And have the floor manager come over." The girl blinked, then hurried off, sensing the change in gravity.

The models tittered, delighted by his attention and largesse. Within moments the floor manager arrived, bowing and murmuring that he'd handle everything personally. Joon-ho handed over his black card, telling him to move the remaining bottles and glasses up to the VIP room. The manager agreed, all deference and discretion—Cloud 9 understood the value of a high-roller in the house.

Alina's crew jostled around her, feigning jealousy. "Why didn't you bring him sooner?" one pouted.

Alina cocked her head, smirking. "Maybe I was being greedy. Or maybe you just aren't ready for real trouble."

Natty, never subtle, stage-whispered, "He looks like he could handle all of us." Rina let out a howl, and even Harin, usually reserved, joined in the laughter.

Alina rolled her eyes, playing along, but her cheeks flushed. "Careful," she warned her friends, "you flirt too much, you might get disciplined."

Joon-ho's lips curled. "Funny you say that. Looks like someone's due for some discipline tonight." Alina's breath caught, thighs shifting as her eyes darkened.

Without another word, he swept her up in his arms, lifting her in a princess carry. Gasps and shrieks went up from the group. Phones flashed—some capturing the spectacle, others just caught up in the rush. Even staff paused to watch, a couple of busboys grinning at the sight.

"Show-off!" Natty called, hoisting her drink as they headed for the elevator.

Joon-ho's arm was solid around Alina's back and beneath her knees, and as he carried her through the club, he made sure to pass close by the crypto queen's table. The Euro model looked up, her expression souring as the LUNE girls howled and snapped more photos.

Harin was the last to leave, tossing a satisfied look over her shoulder at the crypto queen before following the others to the lift. They ascended together, a noisy, raucous, victorious parade.

The VIP suite buzzed as they tumbled in, the music now muffled but still present, thumping through the walls like a second pulse. Hye-jin greeted them with a fresh tray of cocktails. Mirae, bleary-eyed and tangled with Yumi on the couch, roused at the commotion. Yumi sat up, smoothing her hair and blinking at the crowd.

Min-Kyung collapsed beside Mirae, slinging an arm around her. "Rise and shine, sleepyheads. The party's just getting good."

Yumi nestled into Mirae's lap, while Mirae stretched and reached for a drink. "How long was I out?"

"Long enough to miss Alina getting carried off like a princess," Rina laughed. "You need to keep up, unnie."

Joon-ho set Alina gently on the sofa, kneeling beside her as he examined her ankle. He ran practiced fingers over the joint, finding the swelling and kneading softly. Alina winced, biting her lip, but the pain was tangled with something sweeter, her breath hitching as he pressed his thumb just right.

"She's milking it for attention," Natty teased. "Watch, next she'll want you to kiss it better."

Rina chimed in, "Or maybe she wants a little more than that."

Alina glared at them, but her voice was low, hungry. "You're just jealous."

Joon-ho smirked, stroking her calf, eyes flicking up to catch her expression. "Is that true? Should I punish you in front of your friends?"

One of Alina's friends, a sly brunette, slid onto the other side of the sofa and pinched Alina's nipple through her thin top, making her jump and stifle a moan. The girls burst into laughter, ribbing her about her lack of underwear.

Alina, flushed and breathless, shot daggers at them. "You're all brats."

"Better a brat than a bitch," Rina shot back, eyes darting toward the crypto queen's group still sulking below.

Harin, settling in with a drink, surveyed the room. "We're the only show in this club now. Even the staff can't take their eyes off us."

Hye-jin, toasting with her glass, added, "To LUNE—may our rivals choke on their envy."

The room erupted in cheers. Joon-ho poured drinks for Mirae and Yumi, who snuggled close, their bodies loose with alcohol and mischief. Mirae shot Joon-ho a lazy, teasing look. "I missed you."

He slid an arm around her, squeezing her hip. "You always say that when you're tipsy."

Yumi, tipsy herself, leaned in to kiss Mirae's cheek, then whispered, "You're my big sister forever."

Natty, egged on by the mood, called out, "Who wants to play truth or dare?"

Groans and laughter rolled around the suite as the girls began proposing wild, reckless challenges. Rina dared Min-Kyung to flash the window—she did, bare breasts pressed to the glass, drawing cheers and even applause from the other side of the street as someone whistled from a neighboring balcony.

Alina's friends circled her, coaxing her to confess her dirtiest secret or else face a dare of their own. Alina, emboldened by Joon-ho's touch, leaned in to whisper something in his ear—he just smiled, shaking his head, promising quietly, "Later, when it's just us."

As the game wound down, drinks were topped off, and the girls sprawled across each other in varying degrees of undress. Mirae and Yumi curled up on the corner couch, dozing off and waking in cycles, while Harin and Hye-jin traded notes on their favorite potential recruits from the night.

Rina scrolled through her phone, showing off new follower counts, and Natty crowed about an offer she'd gotten to walk a Paris show, promising to bring "real trouble" back to Seoul with her next time.

The club outside had thinned, but the VIP suite felt like the heart of everything. Even the waitstaff lingered, smuggling in trays of desserts and more bottles, hoping to catch the wild energy. At one point, a busboy tried to sneak a selfie with Alina and Natty, only to be pulled into the group for a raucous group photo that left him red-faced and stammering.

Joon-ho, at the center, felt a fierce pride swell in his chest. This was what it meant to build something that couldn't be bought or bullied—a family made of loyalty and lust, ambition and affection. Alina's thigh was warm beneath his hand, and she pressed closer, whispering, "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, brushing a kiss across her temple.

"For making me feel wanted. Even when it hurts."

He smiled, tracing her jaw, promising, "Always."

Down below, the crypto queen's table had devolved into petty bickering, their men already bored, the girls flaring at each other as the staff started clearing away the empty bottles. The spotlight belonged to LUNE now, and everyone knew it.

As dawn threatened the windows and the last of the music faded, the girls huddled together for one final toast—glasses raised, voices hoarse, arms slung around shoulders and waists.

"To LUNE," Harin declared, "for tonight and every night after."

The echo lingered, bright and triumphant, in the golden mess of morning.

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