We'll just try to make better mistakes tomorrow

But being pretty was the baseline for an idol.

A prerequisite.

Celine, especially as she'd gotten older and gotten more control over her own image, had cultivated a languid, effortless sort of beauty. The kind reserved for panthers drapped atop branches and eagles soaring on thermals and grandmasters taking up their swords.

It was the kind of beauty that didn't need outfits or accessories, necessarily.

But goddamn did Mira wish she could take a blowtorch to Celine's entire closet of gray on gray on gray.

("What's wrong with how Celine dresses?" Rumi asks, sometime after the Idol Awards, as they watch Celine make a public statement about the state of Huntr/x and the incident at Namsan Tower.

Celine was dressed how she always dressed for these things -- neat button-up, black dress pants, brown penny loafers, and a black blazer.

There was nothing wrong with it per se.

Just...

"Her entire wardrobe is that and all those gray monstrosities back on Jeju," Mira says. "It's like she's allergic to primary colors."

"That's not true," Rumi says. "She's got that blue--"

"Dark navy isn't blue."

"It literally is, Mira, look it up," Rumi huffs. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with finding an outfit you like."

Rumi was wearing her third off-white hoodie of the week.

"You'd know," Mira says, dryly.

Rumi tosses a chip at Mira's hair.)

Weeks later, Mira catches Celine at the end of company meeting.

With Huntr/x now officially on hiatus -- and with Rumi busy filming a drama for the next three months, their hiatus might actually last as long as they promised it would -- their label looking to debut a new group during the lull.

Which meant meetings upon meetings.

Which meant Celine was spending an inordinate amount of time in Seoul and in suits.

Suits which, to Mira's eye, looked identical to each other.

If she broke into Celine apartment in Seoul, Mira was sure she'd find rows upon rows of identical black blazers and identical black dress pants and button-ups that differed only in color.

"Celine, do you have a minute?"

Celine pauses, waves away the suit she's speaking to, and steps towards Mira.

"Of course," she says. "Is everything alright? I didn't expect to see you in the office so soon."

"I'm using my freebie," Mira says, once they were alone in the hallway.

Tilting her head, Celine arches an eyebrow.

"A... freebie?" She says it as if she's never heard of the concept.

"You know, my one no-questions-asked request that you go along with because you feel guilty about how you raised us?" Mira says, leaning against the wall. "I've been saving mine and now I'm cashing it in."

Celine looks even more confused.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Mira," Celine says.

"You know, when Rumi wanted to cut her hair and you okayed it?"

"That was a decision Rumi made herself," Celine says, stiffly. "I had no say in it."

"Bullshit."

Mira ignores the quiet, almost instinctive, "language" that Celine mutters.

"She went to talk to you before she cut her hair," Mira continues. "You could have stopped her if you'd said something."

Celine chuckles quietly and shakes her head.

"You greatly overestimate the importance of my approval to Rumi," Celine says. "She would have cut her hair either way. It was... important to her."

"So's your opinion of her."

She watches Celine blink rapidly. Her jaw tensing and untensing as she glances away at some far off ceiling panel. She thinks she imagines the sudden wetness coating Celine's eyes.

"You were trying to guilt trip me into agreeing with something?" Celine asks, bruskly.

Kang women and their emotional constipation, Mira thinks as she says, "I want you to model for me."

The silence that greets her is long.

"Mira..."

"Just one photoshoot," Mira says. "It'll take like one afternoon, I already have the outfits."

Celine is shaking her head.

"This is for the fashion line you've been working on?" She asks.

Mira nods.

"You don't want an old, retired idol affecting the debut," Celine says. "I'm sure there's plenty of younger models who would love to get the chance to --"

"I want to honor my teacher, who has been raising me since I was fourteen," Mira says, scuffing her sole against the floor. This time, she's the one looking away. "Just say you'll do it, Celine?"

Celine sighs. Massages her temple.