The sound of Luna's phone buzzed with a triple SOS chime—Kana's personalized emergency tone.
She blinked, sat up from her beanbag, and checked the message:
Kana 💄📸:
🚨 SOS. Get your pretty butt over to 9th Street Studio. We're missing a model for the duo shots.
I NEED this done today, or I can't go to Mary's house to visit this weekend.
Also… consider it penance for that time, making me sign on napkins. 😤💅
"Dramatic much?" Luna murmured as she stopped baking and told their chief to make red bean-filled mochi for dinner.
Luna groaned dramatically, tossing her phone onto her vanity table. "I was going to bake… now I have to model?"
But she stood up with a sigh, cracked her knuckles, and smirked at her reflection.
"If I'm gonna show up," she muttered, "I might as well make it count."
Two Hours Later…
Luna emerged from her room like a goddess reborn from glam. The maids bowed as they assisted her to the front door.
Her hair was swept up into an elegant twist with strands cascading just enough to frame her sharp cheekbones. Her makeup was subtle but perfected—soft, smokey eyes, flawless skin, and a warm nude lip that made her look both ethereal and untouchable.
She slipped into an oversized trench over her outfit and tossed on some vintage shades for dramatic flair.
By the time she arrived at the studio, even the receptionist did a double-take.
At 9th Street Studio
Kana, in full outfit, was directing lights and biting her nails when Luna sauntered in like a star from a perfume commercial. The stylists, assistants, and even the grumpy lighting tech turned when she entered.
Josh, sipping on his slushie, choked.
Kana turned and immediately burst into stifled laughter, slapping a hand over her mouth before she screamed, "NO WAY."
Luna pulled down her sunglasses with a wink. "Well, you did send an SOS."
"You… absolute menace!" Kana wheezed, grabbing Luna's arm to drag her toward the wardrobe. "Oh, this will be fun!"
"I know right." Luna looked over her shoulder—Josh had completely frozen, blinking at her like she wasn't real.
She stopped right in front of him, tilted her head, and purred, "Hey there, model boy. You good?"
Josh looked like he was calculating every life decision that led him to this moment. "I'm… I'm great. Amazing, really. You're… you're new?"
Luna placed a finger to her lips. "That's a secret."
Kana kicked her lightly from behind, trying to hold her laughter in so hard.
The concept was urban contrast—cool-toned outfits in a city setting backdrop. Luna slipped into her persona with practiced grace, her body language sharp, confident, magnetic.
Josh, flustered but a professional, matched her poses as best he could. The chemistry on-camera? Electric.
One shot had Luna leaning in like she was whispering into Josh's ear, her eyes daring, her smirk lethal.
Josh nearly dropped her in the dip pose.
Kana, behind the camera, was vibrating from suppressed laughter. The photographers were losing it, gushing over how this "mystery model" had completely changed the shoot dynamic.
"Who is she?" one stylist whispered.
"No idea, but if she's not signed, someone needs to snatch her now," the director muttered.
Kana leaned in and muttered to Luna during a break, "You're gonna kill Josh."
Luna shrugged, dabbing her lip gloss. "He was getting too smug."
"Do not blame me when he starts stalking you."
"Too late. I already saw him writing his number on a napkin."
Kana snorted.
As the shoot wrapped up
Josh offered her a bottle of water with reverence. "So… are you going to be around again? Maybe for next week's concept?"
Luna took the bottle, winked, and said smoothly, "I'm like a rare comet, Josh. You never know when I'll reappear."
Kana wheezed behind him.
Josh blinked as she walked away, then turned to Kana, clearly dazed. "Do you know who she really is?"
Kana clapped a hand on his shoulder with faux sympathy. "Oh, Josh. I know too much."
The shoot had just wrapped up—crew packing lights, stylists swapping shoes, Josh still reeling from Luna's comet metaphor—when the studio doors flew open with a soft whoosh. A hush fell across the studio like a sudden drop in pressure.
In walked Emilio Omnia, tall, poised, and effortlessly regal in a sleek designer ensemble, flanked by his manager and personal stylist. His presence had the same effect as someone casually bringing a Bengal tiger to a tea party—gorgeous, majestic, and capable of causing absolute chaos.
Photographers gasped. Interns fumbled with their clipboards. Someone audibly whispered, "Is that… Emilio??"
Josh blinked in confusion. "Wait—what is he doing here?"
Kana, who had just finished powdering her nose, muttered, "Why does the world keep tossing hot men at us like this is a fanfic crossover episode?"
Luna, still lounging with a bottle of coconut water, glanced up—and froze. She hadn't expected him. Not Emilio. Not now. Not while she was still in her high-glam, unrecognizable model persona.
Emilio's sharp gaze scanned the room… and landed right on her.
Their eyes locked.
Time slowed.
And then the chaos began.
"THAT'S HER!"
The photographer Emilio usually worked with—a notoriously picky artist named Dirk—pointed dramatically at Luna.
"Pair him with her. I want chemistry. Fire. Now!"
Luna's jaw dropped. "Wait, what—?"
Kana burst out laughing as crew members all but shoved Emilio and Luna into frame, resetting lights and backdrop with military speed.
Josh stumbled to the side, helpless to intervene.
Emilio leaned in with a perfectly neutral smile. "Nice disguise," he murmured under his breath.
"You weren't supposed to recognize me," Luna hissed, trying not to look directly into his ridiculously symmetrical face.
"You think that little makeup could fool me?"
"Fair."
First Round: Emilio x Luna
The camera clicked furiously as Luna shifted into character, facing Emilio like they were star-crossed rivals. Emilio matched her beat for beat—brooding intensity vs smirking defiance. Their tension could've cooked a steak.
Dirk was practically screaming with joy. "YES. YESSS! GIVE ME WAR, GIVE ME LOVE, GIVE ME EVERYTHING!"
The crew was losing their minds. Kana whispered to Josh, "I am living for this."
Second Round: Trio Shot
Fueled by Luna and Emilio's electric dynamic, Kana's modeling instincts kicked in full force. Dirk, seeing the opportunity, called for a triple set.
Now the three of them posed as if they were a high-fashion rebellion: Emilio in the center with Luna leaning on his shoulder, Kana perched regally on the other side. Glances, angles, moods—impeccable.
"Actual magazine cover energy," someone cried.
Josh, standing to the side, gulped as he saw Dirk looking at him with the eyes of a casting predator.
Third Round: The Dominance Shot
"Josh! Get in here!" Dirk yelled.
"What? No—I don't think—!"
But it was too late. The poor boy was dragged into the shot, sandwiched between Kana and Luna, trying his best to look cool while dying internally.
Luna leaned in and whispered sweetly, "Smile, pretty boy."
Josh turned beet red.
Final Shot: Chaos Unleashed
Luna, high off the energy, smirked and threw down the ultimate challenge.
"I want one more shot. Just the boys."
Josh blinked. "Wait, what?"
Emilio raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
She grinned wickedly. "Come on. You two. One spicy shot. Can't back down now, right?"
Kana immediately started wheezing. A stylist dropped her brush. A lighting tech muttered, "Lord, forgive me for what I'm about to witness."
Josh and Emilio looked at each other with mutual dread and reluctant resignation.
But pride was pride.
So they posed—back-to-back first, then shoulder to shoulder, and finally…
Luna cued them into a pose where Josh had to lean in with a crooked smirk while Emilio tilted his chin just right—almost nose to nose. Their hands casually in their pockets, but their expressions? Smoldering danger.
One of the makeup artists gave a strangled squeak and fainted on the spot.
Another just muttered, "I'm gonna need that picture framed."
Aftermath
As the last click echoed and Dirk screamed "Perfection!" into the void, the studio erupted in wild applause and uncontrollable chatter.
Kana had tears streaming from laughter. Luna was casually fanning herself. Josh looked like he'd just run a marathon in heels. Emilio ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "Never again."
But the damage was done.