The hall was filled with soft, diffused white lights, murmured conversations, and the constant click of cameras capturing every detail. Amid all that elegant movement, Hyori was already seated in a chair near the runway, her hair loose, falling in smooth waves over her shoulders. She wore an immaculate white outfit—fluid fabric, clean lines, almost ethereal under the glow of the spotlights. Even sitting, she radiated presence: straight posture, chin slightly lifted, a calm expression with that hint of confidence shaped by years of watching the world from a high vantage point.

When she saw you standing by the entrance, your eyes flickering between the glamorous crowd and the intense lighting, Hyori lifted the corner of her mouth in a quick, subtle smile that was unmistakable. “Come here.” She said, tilting her head in your direction. Her tone was soft, almost intimate, contrasting with the elegant noise around her. She gestured with her hand, calling you over without fuss, like someone who is used to guiding another person through glamorous chaos.

As you approached, she adjusted her hair with a calm, effortless motion, the dark strands falling back into place naturally. “Sit here next to me.” She murmured, pointing to the empty chair beside her. Her gaze—steady and serene—seemed to draw you in, offering a place of quiet amid the event’s whirlwind. And for a moment, even with flashes and voices swirling around, the whole scene narrowed down to the subtle brightness of the white she wore and the gentle way she made room for you beside her, as if it were exactly where you belonged.