Chapter 1
Yena’s POV
The morning sunlight bled softly through the thin beige curtains, casting golden streaks across our shared studio apartment. Ellie was already at the mirror, brushing out her long caramel waves, her face half-lit with focused determination. She looked like the kind of girl born for glossy magazines — flawless skin, perfect posture, makeup so precise it seemed effortless.
I wasn’t like her. Not at first.
We were both getting ready for today’s big casting — Celine and Calvin Klein were holding a dual runway audition at our agency. It was a huge deal. Global brand ambassadors. Models from across the city were arriving, and Ellie… well, she wanted everything to go perfectly.
“We’re getting two new models today. Celine’s ambassador, and Calvin Klein’s,” Ellie said, without taking her eyes off the mirror. “Please, Yena, do everything right today. Don’t embarrass yourself. Or me.”
Her tone was sharp. Always sharp when she was nervous.
I gave a firm nod, even though something twisted in my stomach. “I won’t.”
I didn’t want to. Not when she had worked so hard to bring me this far.
Once, I didn’t belong in this world of lights and lenses — this glamorous chaos of runways, editors, stylists, and competition. I was drowning in the dark. Drowning in a life I thought would never shift. I was a ghost of a girl hiding behind baggy hoodies and broken dreams.
Then Ellie came. Not like some soft-hearted savior — no, Ellie was fire. Blunt, cold, but persistent. She dragged me out of my wreckage with eyeliner in one hand and modeling contracts in the other.
“You’ll learn,” she had told me. “If you stay stuck in your past, you’ll never see who you’re meant to become.”
And I listened.
Somehow… I listened.
I turned toward her now, adjusting the black blazer over my plain white crop-top, my tailored pants falling just right over my boots. It was a boyish elegance — sleek, structured, confident. I liked that style. It made me feel like I had armor.
Ellie turned, eyeing me head to toe with narrowed eyes.
“You’re not going like that, right?” she scoffed, raising a perfectly shaped brow. “At least put on eyeliner, Yena.”
I hesitated, clutching the eyeliner in my hand like it was some unfamiliar weapon. “I’m trying…” I mumbled, but my fingers shook slightly. Eyeliner was always a challenge. One wrong move and I looked like a raccoon.
She sighed and stood up, marching toward me with that signature Ellie energy — all bossy grace and zero patience. “Come here.”
I sat stiffly on the edge of the bed as she leaned down and tilted my chin up with her fingers, drawing the perfect lines on my eyes. Her movements were quick but careful, and when I opened my eyes and looked into the mirror—
“Perfect,” I whispered, almost surprised at how much a small touch could change everything.
Ellie gave me a brief, approving nod and grabbed her clutch. “Let’s go.”
We rushed out of the apartment and into the waiting car. The engine hummed beneath us as the city moved outside the window like a blur of steel and sunlight.
“I heard they’re both flying in today — Celine’s guy and Calvin Klein’s face. We don’t even know what they look like,” Ellie muttered, adjusting her compact mirror and touching up her lipstick. “Just… stay sharp. These aren’t small-time guys. They’re elite.”
I nodded silently, watching the city pass by through the car window, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve.
Helping Ellie — being by her side in this ruthless industry — it wasn’t always easy. She wasn’t warm. She wasn’t soft. But when I was at my lowest, she showed up. Not like a fairytale sister, but like a hurricane that refused to let me rot in sadness.
She’s technically my stepsister. But to me, she’s more than that.
She was the only family I had left close by. My real mother? She lives abroad now, a distance I’ve never been able to cross. I don’t even have siblings. But maybe… maybe this is what having a sister feels like. Fighting. Loving. Silently understanding each other in moments like eyeliner and scoldings.
Ellie could be cold, cruel even — but I knew she loved me. Somewhere beneath the frost, there was a warmth she didn’t know how to express.
And me?
I loved her in return. Fiercely.
Even if I could never say it out loud.
Author POV
The sleek studio buzzed with quiet urgency as Yena and Ellie arrived, settling into their assigned seats. The preparation for tonight’s grand runway show had already begun. Staff, stylists, and assistants circled around racks of designer pieces, clipboards in hand, voices hushed but tense. The models were yet to arrive, but their profiles and mood boards were already pinned to the presentation board—every detail mattered.
Tonight was no ordinary runway.
Two of the world’s biggest names were showcasing: Celine and Calvin Klein.
The stakes? Astronomical.
Stylists were grouped and assigned accordingly, mostly girls, a few boys here and there. The energy was high. Everyone had their eyes on the prize—flawless execution. Runway starts at 7:00 PM sharp.
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Yena's POV
I sat quietly, a photocard trembling lightly in my hand. My fingers traced the edge of the glossy print as I stared into the sharp, piercing gaze of the man in the picture.
> “Is he the one I have to style?” I muttered under my breath.
His expression was unreadable.
Eyes like a storm—dangerous, mysterious, untouchable.
His jawline? Sharp enough to cut glass.
> “God, his eyes look deadly... Is he really like this in person?”
My thoughts were spinning, my mind trying to decode the vibe. His aura didn’t scream ‘model’—it screamed trouble. And somehow, that made him even more intriguing.
Just then, Ellie slid into the chair beside me, holding her own assignment photo in one hand.
> “Guess who I got?” she said with a smirk. “A tattooed man straight out of a biker movie. He’s the Calvin Klein ambassador.”
I leaned over and took a glance.
Piercings. Curly hair. A full-sleeve tattoo.
The man screamed bad boy energy.
> “Woah,” I breathed. “You got the wildcard. I can’t even guess his personality. It’s like his face says ‘sweetheart’ but his body says ‘I’ll wreck your life.’”
Ellie chuckled. “Exactly. It’s chaos. I’ve been struggling to design something that fits his vibe. But maybe that’s the challenge—we don’t box them in. We shape the box around them.”
She always knew what to say. Her confidence calmed my nerves, like always.
> “You’re right,” I said, nodding slowly.
I looked back at my photocard. My model—Celine’s ambassador—looked no less complicated. There was a certain devilish beauty in his stare. Something haunting. I scanned his features again—messy black hair, defined jawline, sharp features. A black ribbon? Maybe. A sharp suit with a bold edge? Possibly.
> “I think a black suit will accentuate his jawline... the messy hairstyle adds mystery… yeah, this might work.”
Still, nothing beats seeing someone in real life. Photos can lie. People can be more—or less—than the vibe they give away in stills. And mine was supposed to walk in any minute now.
> “I doubt he looks the same in real life…” I mumbled, eyes still locked on the photo.
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Ellie’s POV
I stared at my assigned model’s profile. His eyes had a softness to them—an emotional depth that was oddly inviting. But then there were the piercings, the boldness, the unpredictable wildness etched across his skin.
> “Sweet eyes. Dangerous body. Which one is the truth?”
This was going to be a challenge.
Maybe the most difficult styling job I’ve ever done.
And from the way Yena was frowning beside me, she felt the same about hers.
Tonight, we weren’t just dressing models.
We were decoding souls.
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Assignments:
Yena: Celine Ambassador
Ellie: Calvin Klein Ambassador
And the runway was just the beginning
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