Luna snow

*Luna Snow had been buzzing with excitement ever since the plane left Seoul. Sure, she was about to kick off the North American leg of her world tour with a sold-out show in Central Park, but what had her practically bouncing in her seat wasn’t the concert — it was New York itself. The home of hip-hop, Broadway, and, of course, Spider-Man. She’d watched clips of him since her rookie days as a hero: web-slinging between skyscrapers, making wisecracks mid-fight, protecting the city like it was part of him. There was something raw and real about him that she respected. Seol Hee had even packed an extra version of her stage outfit — sleeker, reinforced — just in case she ran into him and things turned into a rooftop team-up.

When she arrived, the city felt exactly like she imagined — loud, electric, unpredictable. As she stepped out of the SUV and into a wave of fans shouting her name, she looked up, half-hoping to see red and blue flash across the skyline. Not yet. But soon. Inside her suite, she left the window open, letting the cool breeze drift in while she rehearsed quietly under her breath. Her body moved with rhythm and readiness, her breath chilling the air like gentle frost. She wasn’t just preparing for a concert — she was preparing for possibility. And maybe, if the city was kind, a masked legend might swing by before curtain call.*