Outing

The morning sun filtered gently through the gauzy curtains, but Luna was already up before it rose high. She'd showered, styled her hair in soft waves, and wore a pale cream blouse with simple high-waisted jeans that hugged her frame just right—comfortable but cute, perfect for a day out. Milo blinked blearily at her from a warm patch on the bed, utterly unimpressed by her early burst of energy.

By the time Luna entered the dining hall, the staff were still setting up the breakfast spread. Her father, Emmerich, was already seated at the head of the table, casually sipping his espresso while scanning his morning report on a sleek tablet.

He looked up—and blinked. "Luna?"

"Morning!" she chirped as she slid into the seat next to him.

He set the tablet down, visibly stunned. "Did… Did the sun rise from the west today?"

Luna grinned as she reached for the buttered toast and eggs. "Don't get used to it. I just wanted to make sure I have breakfast with you today."

Emmerich's expression softened instantly, the usual composed, powerful businessman melting into something warm and quietly touched. "You've made my day already."

Luna laughed as she spread jam on her toast. "Good, because I'm skipping dinner with you tonight."

His brows rose in mock offense. "What? So this was a strategic breakfast ambush?"

She shrugged with a playful smirk. "Kana and I have our karaoke day today. I told you about it before, remember?"

"Ah, yes." He leaned back slightly, folding his hands. "The sacred outing."

"It might go late," Luna added, sipping her tea. "So, I'll probably miss dinner. Just a heads-up."

Emmerich pretended to sigh. "And here I thought we were making a habit of sharing meals."

Luna leaned her cheek on her palm. "Well, if it makes you feel better, you can demand tribute."

He raised an eyebrow. "Tribute?"

"A photo," she said with a teasing smile. "Of Kana and me having fun. I'll send you proof I'm not ditching you for a secret rebellion."

Emmerich chuckled, his eyes full of warmth. "That's a fair trade. Just don't Photoshop smiles on tired faces."

"I promise—authentic fun only," Luna replied, then with mock seriousness added, "Besides, I'm past my rebellious age. I'll be home before 10 pm."

"Now that," Emmerich said, pointing his spoon at her, "is something every father dreams of hearing."

They shared a quiet, companionable laugh as the sun climbed higher and bathed the dining hall in gold. It wasn't long ago they were strangers in name only, but mornings like this made the distance between years shrink just a little more.

Luna made a mental note to make moments like this more often—just not every morning.

In the quiet of the library, Luna sat curled on the cushioned window seat in her private study room, a hardcover book propped on her knees, her tablet open beside her with a half-finished article on consumer psychology. She had planned to read for just thirty minutes before heading out to meet Kana—but she was already past the hour mark.

Just as she flipped another page, her phone buzzed beside her.

Leroy.

Surprised, Luna quickly answered. "Hey, what's up?"

"...Luna?" came his voice—hoarse, nasally, like he'd been swallowing gravel.

"Whoa—are you sick?" she asked, frowning immediately. "You sound awful. Do you have a cold?"

"A bit," he croaked, followed by a short, dry cough.

Luna sat up straighter, brows furrowing with concern. "Do you want me to call an ambulance? You sound like you're dying."

That earned her a soft, raspy chuckle from the other end. "No need for drama, I'm fine. Just a little overworked and under-slept."

Luna crossed her arms, not convinced. "You seriously sound like a dying duck. Drink some warm soup or something. Better yet—sleep."

"I was sleeping," Leroy said, voice muffled like he'd buried his face in his pillow, "but I had to call."

"Why?" she asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "If you say something stupid like you saw the light or something, I'm hanging up."

There was a pause, then Leroy's pitiful voice:

"Because I needed to hear your voice. Makes me feel better."

Luna blinked. "...Oh my god."

"What?"

"You've got a fever," she declared. "Definitely. Hallucinations have started."

He coughed again, laughing weakly. "Luna…"

"I'm serious!" she said, already checking the time. "Rest. Or I will call the ambulance. I'll even drag Kana with me to barge into your place."

"That's terrifying."

"Exactly." She smirked. "So close your eyes, drink some water, and do not call me again unless it's to tell me you've recovered."

"Okay, okay." His voice softened. "Thanks, Luna."

"Yeah, yeah. Get some sleep, moron."

He chuckled again before hanging up, and Luna stared at her phone for a beat longer before sighing. She slipped it back into her bag, grabbed her coat, and gave the library one last fond glance.

"Boys," she muttered, smiling to herself, "always being dramatic when they're sick."

Then she strode out of the manor, the sun warm on her back, ready to meet Kana for a long day of karaoke, laughter, and everything she didn't know she needed.

Outside Kana's condo,

Kana stood by the curb in a sharp, oversized hoodie and dark shades, arms crossed and one foot tapping with unfiltered annoyance. Her hair was pinned back with glittery clips that didn't quite match her glare. People passed by cautiously, sensing her brewing storm.

Luna's car rolled up.

Peeking from behind the tinted window, Luna spotted the irate model waiting like an abandoned goddess of wrath. Immediately, she ducked back down. "Abort mission," she whispered to herself. "She's in boss-level rage."

She was about to tell the driver to circle back when the car door yanked open.

"Don't even think about it," Kana growled, grabbing Luna by the collar and pulling her out like a misbehaving kitten.

"Mercy!" Luna yelped, caught completely off-guard. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry?" Kana narrowed her eyes. "You're two hours late, Miss Heiress."

"I had a call—an emergency—there was a dying duck involved!" Luna babbled as Kana hauled her to her car.

"Shut up and get in. I'm shopping my rage away." Kana pushed her into the seat and snapped the door closed.

Luna barely had time to fasten her seatbelt before Kana drove off.

Three hours and several shopping bags later,

Kana strutted ahead, now sparkling with satisfaction—and glittery lip gloss. Luna trailed behind, loaded with bags: plushies, makeup, snacks, limited-edition game cartridges, and at least one singing cat pillow Kana claimed "healed her soul."

"I thought we were here to hang out, not fund your emotional reparations," Luna huffed.

"You made me wait. Compensation is justice," Kana replied, happily sipping a bubble tea she made Luna buy after the fourth store.

"I'm broke," Luna muttered.

"You have a black card now," Kana deadpanned.

"I'm morally broke," Luna corrected.

"Then this is therapy. You're welcome."

Despite the teasing, Luna couldn't stop smiling. This was exactly the kind of chaos she needed.

They finally reached the karaoke lounge.

A private room awaited them—neon-lit, plush-seated, and fully stocked with microphones, drinks, and snacks (half of which Kana brought herself).

"Two hours minimum," Kana declared, already queuing songs. "We are singing like our rent depends on it."

"You don't even pay rent," Luna muttered.

"Not the point!"

And just like that, the room exploded into off-key duets, scream-singing ballads, Kana's surprisingly good idol impressions, and Luna's dramatic emo throwbacks. Between songs, they tossed popcorn, made up fake band names, and talked about everything from modeling drama to possible video game collabs.

It was loud, ridiculous, and perfect.

As Kana belted out a power ballad, Luna leaned back with a drink in hand, eyes crinkling with laughter.

For the first time in a long while… things felt light.

Inside the cozy, dim-lit karaoke room, neon lights casting soft glows over the table now cluttered with snacks, water bottles, and empty bubble tea cups—

Kana, grinning like a mischievous cat, raised her hand and tapped on the screen to summon service. "Time for cocktails."

Luna looked up from fiddling with her mic, one eyebrow raised. "Oh? So it's that kind of night now?"

Kana smirked. "What, scared of a little truth serum?"

Luna leaned back with a sigh, eyeing Kana suspiciously. "So, this is your way of saying it's time for some 'soul talk'?"

Kana nodded with a playful glint in her eyes. "After—and only after—you sing seriously this time."

Luna groaned dramatically. "Seriously?"

"You owe me," Kana pointed at her accusingly. "And I don't mean karaoke-casual. I mean that time level serious. Like our indie roadside fundraiser. Remember that week? When we made nearly 50k just from your singing alone?"

Luna blinked. "You mean when you made me wear that hoodie and fake mustache so people thought I was some mysterious street musician?"

Kana sighed dreamily. "Yes, and you—he—were dreamy. Honestly, if you went full disguise and debuted, I'd quit modeling and become your manager-slash-bodyguard."

Luna scoffed. "You haven't even had a sip and you're already drunk."

Smack! Kana lightly thwacked her on the back.

"Fine, fine!" Luna laughed, rubbing her back. "You want that performance, you got it. But if I break the mic, you're buying them a new one."

Kana plopped down like royalty, already sipping her cocktail with glee. "Deal. Show me what you got, Mister Mystery."

The music began—

A mellow guitar strum. Soft percussion. The intro of a nostalgic indie ballad that once echoed through busy streets and hearts alike.

Luna stood, adjusting her posture, eyes closed for a second as if slipping into a different skin—a different self. Her voice emerged, soft at first, low and androgynous, wrapping around the lyrics like velvet and smoke.

It was heartbreak and hope laced in melody, a voice you didn't expect to stop you—but did.

Outside the room, a young server passed by with a tray.

The faint hum of Luna's voice filtered through the slightly ajar soundproof door. He paused.

Then he heard it clearly—a voice so compelling, it made him stop in his tracks.

"Holy…" he whispered, eyes wide.

He took a step back, subtly pulling out his phone. No visuals—just the audio. He hit record and caught a full verse, then instinctively posted a snippet online with a caption:

"This voice from a karaoke room??? Who is this mystery singer?? 😳🎤 #indielegend #hiddenstar"

Back inside,

Kana, stunned and silent for once, leaned forward as Luna finished the last verse, her voice trailing off with aching beauty.

Silence.

Then thunderous clapping—from Kana alone, but with enough passion for a crowd.

Luna sat back down and exhaled. "There. Happy?"

Kana looked at her, eyes twinkling and face soft. "Seriously, if you ever go full indie… the world won't know what hit it."

Luna rolled her eyes but smiled. "Now. Truth serum, wasn't it?"

Kana lifted her cocktail glass in salute. "Let the soul talk begin."

The cocktails sat mostly untouched as the air in the karaoke room shifted. The bright LED lights and peppy background music faded into the periphery. Kana held her glass gently between her fingers, the earlier mischief in her eyes replaced with something quieter, heavier.

Luna noticed it immediately—how Kana's posture softened, shoulders curled slightly inward, like she was carrying something too big for her slim frame.

"Kana?" Luna asked, voice low.

Kana didn't answer right away. She swirled the drink absently, staring at the bubbles clinging to the glass rim.

"I'm quitting modeling," she said finally, her voice even.

Luna blinked, surprised, sitting up straighter. "You're serious?"

Kana nodded slowly. "I got a call early this morning… before I called you."

Her lips tightened into a thin line, and Luna didn't interrupt. She knew that look—Kana bracing herself.

"It was from my sister."

Luna stilled.

"She said she has a disease. A rare one. Something degenerative. They only caught it recently and it's already progressed fast. It's incurable." Kana's voice trembled slightly, but she clenched her jaw to steady it. "They gave her half a year."

Luna's heart sank. "Kana…"

"She's always been the strong one, you know?" Kana went on, her gaze distant now, as if replaying memories only she could see. "When our parents died, she raised me. Worked three jobs just to pay rent and keep me in school. She was the one who said I should try modeling. That I could do it. Even when I didn't believe in myself, she did."

Luna's hand reached across the table, resting on Kana's. She didn't say anything. Just listened.

"She's been my anchor. Every vlog I post, every job I take—she's the one who sends me that first like, that stupid encouraging message, like 'you looked weird in that outfit but I love you anyway'…" Kana laughed weakly, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. "I want to be the one who takes care of her now. I want to be there, fully. Not just send her money. I want to be there when she wakes up and when she sleeps. I want her to know she's not alone."

Luna gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Then let's visit her. Together. First thing."

Kana looked at her. "Luna, you don't have to—"

"I want to." Luna's voice was firm but warm. "Besides, knowing your sister? She's going to hate that you're quitting modeling because of her."

Kana managed a dry chuckle. "She probably will. She always says, 'Don't ruin your life trying to save mine.'"

"Exactly," Luna said with a small smile. "So let's go talk to her. Hear what she wants. And then we figure out how to be there for her in a way she accepts."

Kana exhaled slowly, nodding, tears welled in her eyes again but she blinked them back. "Thanks, Luna."

"No need to thank me. I'm your friend. You've had my back when I was just a struggling cat café part-timer, remember?"

Kana chuckled through her sniffles. "And now you're an heiress with a fan club and a mysterious suitor."

Luna rolled her eyes. "Let's focus on your sister first before life turns into another soap opera."

They both shared a small, bittersweet smile, the kind that came when love, grief, and gratitude mixed into something too big for words.