Chapter Text
“Okay, hear me out,” Bobby said, pacing in front of the couch like he was selling a pyramid scheme. “A joint reality show. Two groups. One villa. Country escape vibes. Confession cams. Chaotic missions. All expenses paid.”
Mira, curled upside down with her feet over the armrest, raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like every other variety show we’ve done but with less makeup and more trauma.”
Zoey yawned. “Hard pass. I’m not sharing a fridge with strangers. Or a bathroom. Or air.”
“I haven’t even told you the best part,” Bobby said dramatically. “It’s international.”
That got Rumi’s attention. “Where?”
“Italy.”
He paused for effect.
“Specifically, Lake Como. Private villa. Two weeks. Exclusive rights. Fans will eat it up.”
The room went quiet.
Even Zoey sat up.
Mira blinked. “Like… actual Italy? Not the weird greenscreen Italy like that one brand collab we did last year?”
“Real Italy. Passport-stamped. Pasta-fueled. Vespa-core.”
“You made that word up.”
“It’s not the point.”
Rumi leaned forward slightly, arms crossed. “So what’s the catch?”
Bobby grinned—too wide. Too polished. “You’ll be co-starring with a male idol group.”
Mira narrowed her eyes. “Who.”
He hesitated just long enough for them to know.
“...Saja Boys.”
Zoey groaned and fell face-first onto a pillow. “Of course.”
Mira scoffed. “You mean the group that beat us out of Best Performance last year even though they copied our bridge choreography?”
“They didn’t copy it. They—”
“They mirrored it.”
Rumi stayed quiet, but something in her jaw tensed. She hadn’t seen Jinu in person in almost four months.
“And,” Bobby added, tapping his clipboard, “there’s a prize.”
“Cash?” Zoey mumbled into the pillow.
“Cash, yes. And a bonus of your choosing.”
“Wait—what kind of bonus?” Mira asked, sitting up properly now.
“The network’s offering to fund one major project per group. Solo debut, self-produced mini album, original dance film—whatever you pitch, they’ll greenlight it.”
That did it.
Three heads turned toward Rumi, who hadn’t spoken.
She met Bobby’s eyes. “If we say yes, we get final say on what airs.”
Bobby hesitated. “Technically the production team—”
“Final. Say,” she repeated.
He nodded. “I'll make it happen.”
Rumi looked to the others.
Zoey sighed dramatically. “Italy is on my vision board.”
Mira grinned. “And I have a concept idea that’ll slay if we win.”
“Fine,” Zoey groaned. “But if they make us do that paintball mission thing again, I’m throwing Romance into the lake.”
Bobby clapped his hands. “Perfect! I’ll tell the producers you’re in.”
As he left the room, Mira turned to Rumi.
“You okay with this?”
Rumi nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
She didn’t say, "Jinu’s is going to be there and I’m not sure if we’re still a secret or just strangers again."
She just said, “It’s just a show. We’ll win.”
And no one noticed the way she looked at her phone for a second longer than necessary.
“You’re going.”
Gwima tossed a folder onto the dance studio floor with the kind of force that said this is not a conversation.
The Saja Boys blinked up at him, sweaty and out of breath after a full choreo run. Abby, who had been flexing in the mirror between takes, barely turned his head.
“Going where?” Baby asked, draped dramatically over a speaker like a bored cat.
“Italy,” Gwima said.
Romance perked up. “Like… Rome?”
“Lake Como. Villa. Two weeks.”
Abby whistled low. “Is it sponsored? ‘Cause I’m not wearing free linen shirts unless we’re getting paid.”
“You are getting paid,” Gwima said. “It’s a reality show. Healing theme. Fans eat that up. You’ll fish. Cook. Play games. Cry about your moms. Maybe fall in love.”
Mysterio blinked. “Wait—what?”
“You’re filming with another group. Full lock-in setup. Confession cams. Shared kitchen.”
Jinu froze, water bottle halfway to his mouth. “Which group?”
Gwima, who had clearly been waiting for the moment, smiled darkly.
“Huntrix.”
Silence.
Romance let out a slow, exaggerated “ohhhhhh.”
Baby cackled. “Aren’t their fans still trying to cancel us for beating them in that award show last year?”
“We didn’t even vote for ourselves,” Mysterio mumbled.
“Doesn’t matter,” Gwima said. “It’s a brand deal between both companies. The show has a huge budget. You’ll get visibility, international reach, and if you win—bonus promo slots for your next comeback.”
“And if we lose?” Abby asked, raising an eyebrow.
Gwima fixed him with a look. “You’ve already lost.”
Abby sat up straighter. “Oh, c’mon—”
“Three scandals in two months, Abby.”
“They weren’t scandals, they were misinterpreted balcony photos and harmless emoji comments!”
“Your abs are a menace.”
“You’re just jealous.”
Gwima didn’t blink. “This is a cleanup move. A controlled environment. No girls, no drinks, no shirtless selfies unless they're scripted.”
Abby flopped back onto the floor. “I hate PR.”
“You are PR.”
“Why do I have to suffer just because I’m hot?”
Romance rolled his eyes. “We suffer because you never use the back exit like we tell you to.”
Meanwhile, Jinu had gone quiet. He was standing near the back, towel around his neck, eyes focused on the far wall.
Gwima turned to him, tone softening just a little. “You alright, kid?”
Jinu didn’t answer at first.
When he did, it was low. “You said Huntrix?”
“Yeah.”
Jinu looked down. “Rumi’ll be there.”
“You haven’t seen her since…”
“The train station. The cameras.”
“And nothing since then?”
He shook his head.
Gwima sighed. “You could’ve reached out.”
“I didn’t know if I was supposed to.”
“Maybe now’s your shot.”
Jinu’s jaw tightened.
“Or maybe it makes it worse,” he said.
Gwima clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s two weeks. Play nice. Don’t get caught. And if you cry on camera, make it cute.”
Abby raised a hand. “If I cry on camera, it’ll be because Romance steals the nice room again.”
Romance groaned, “I earned that room.”
Baby frowned, “You earned a kick in the—”
“Enough!” Gwima barked. “Flights leave in three days. Pack like you’re dating someone richer than you, and for the love of god—Abby, no mesh shirts.”
The villa looked like a postcard that had been Photoshopped for no reason. Lake Como sparkled at its feet. Flowers spilled from balcony planters. The air was heavy with birdsong and wealth.
Huntrix stepped out of their van first, sunglasses and killer coats in full effect.
“Okay but this is actually insane,” Mira said, throwing her duffle bag over her shoulder. “I thought we’d be staying in like… a cottage. With bugs.”
Zoey pulled out her phone to film. “This is giving idol influencer retreat, and I’m here for it.”
Rumi kept her sunglasses on, but her fingers clenched slightly at her side. She hadn’t stopped checking the road.
Mira leaned toward her. “You good?”
“I’m fine.”
She wasn’t.
She hadn’t seen Jinu in three months. Not since the almost-scandal. Not since that cold night when she told him she needed space—and then never texted again.
She didn’t know if they were broken up.
Or just… paused.
A second van pulled up.
Saja Boys.
Zoey instantly squared her shoulders. “Get ready to act like we’re better than them.”
“We are better than them,” Mira said casually.
The van doors opened.
First out: Romance, ever the drama king, in boots that made no sense on gravel.
Then Baby, hauling a too-big suitcase and complaining about the lack of Wi-Fi before even entering the house.
Then came Abby.
Shades, smug grin, shirt very intentionally unbuttoned halfway. He caught Mira’s eye and winked.
She stared flatly back. “Gross.”
“Hi to you too, bro,” Abby shot back, grinning wider.
Then Mysterio stepped out—hood up, headphones in, blinking at the sun like it insulted him.
And finally, Jinu.
Rumi’s breath caught.
His hair was longer. He looked tired. Like he hadn’t slept enough in months.
He looked at her.
And she looked away.
The moment passed.
But Abby, of course, caught it.
He didn’t say anything.
Just filed it away.
Inside the villa was just as insane: stone floors, arched windows, a garden with a fountain, and two oversized “confession booths” in the corner like some twisted K-pop Hunger Games.
They were told to choose rooms in pairs. Mira and Zoey teamed up. Rumi took the solo suite. Saja Boys bickered, Baby got the couch for mouthing off.
Abby slung his bag over one shoulder and leaned into Mira’s doorway.
“You sure you don’t wanna bunk with me?”
“I’d rather sleep in the lake.”
He grinned, as if she hadn’t just roasted him.
Outside, the lake glinted gold.
Rumi stood at the window, watching Jinu from afar.
She didn’t wave.
He didn’t look.
Mira appeared behind her, arms crossed. “I think we’re in for a wild two weeks.”
Rumi nodded.
But all she could think about was whether two weeks was enough to fix what they never finished.
"Three, two, one—rolling!"
The director’s voice cut through the villa courtyard like a clap of thunder.
Everyone sat in carefully arranged formation: Huntrix on one side, Saja Boys on the other. A decorative outdoor table was covered in lemonade pitchers, cute snacks, and a bowl of what could only be described as evil little question cards.
Rumi sat with Mira on her right and Zoey on her left, posture perfect, expression unreadable. She could feel Jinu’s presence directly across from her like heat under her skin.
Abby sat next to Jinu, sunglasses perched on his head, spinning a toothpick between his fingers. He caught Mira glancing at him and shot her a wink. She looked at him like he was mold.
The director stepped in front of the camera with the biggest grin on earth. “Welcome to Behind the Beat: Idol Lock-In!” he chirped. “We’re so excited to have two of the hottest idol groups sharing this gorgeous villa in Italy for the next two weeks!”
Cue forced applause.
Romance clapped loudly with both hands.
Baby booed under his breath.
“Let’s start,” the director continued, “with a quick introduction! Just your name, group, and one fun fact about you. Something the fans don’t know, okay?”
“Ugh,” Mira muttered.
Zoey nudged her. “It’s giving trauma dump incoming.”
“Huntrix, go first!”
Rumi cleared her throat, already sensing the cameras zooming in. “I’m Rumi, leader of Huntrix. Fun fact… I make a really good garlic shrimp pasta. And I like cooking alone.”
Jinu blinked slowly. Abby’s eyes flicked to Rumi, then to Jinu. Then back to Rumi.
He didn’t comment—but oh, he noticed.
“I’m Mira,” Mira said next, arms crossed. “I used to race motorbikes with my cousins before debut. I still have the scars.”
Abby let out a choked sound. “That’s… hot?”
“Ew,” she said flatly.
“I’m Zoey,” Zoey said cheerfully. “I wanted to be a stuntwoman before becoming an idol. I’m not flexible, I just don’t fear death.”
Baby grinned. “We should hang out.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “No.”
Saja Boys’ turn.
“I’m Mystery,” he said, flipping imaginary hair. “Fun fact: I cried watching The Lion King. The animated one.”
“Which part?” Zoey asked, intrigued.
“The clouds. You know.”
“Mufasa?!” she shrieked. “OH MY GOD—”
“I’m Baby,” Baby said. “I almost got kicked out of training for trying to start a hot sauce business.”
Rumi blinked. “Wait, that was you?”
“I had investors,” Baby insisted.
“I’m Romance,” Romance mumbled. “I… write poetry. But like, bad poetry. For practice.”
Everyone stared.
“That’s… kind of sweet,” Mira said, caught off guard.
Romance turned pink.
“I’m Abby,” Abby said smoothly. “Fun fact: despite what my abs suggest, I read romance webtoons in my free time.”
“Liar,” Mira muttered.
“I can show you my reading list.”
“Please don’t.”
Finally, Jinu.
He hesitated.
“I’m Jinu. Leader of Saja Boys. I—uh—”
He glanced once at Rumi.
“Fun fact… I like journaling. But I never reread anything.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.
It was loud.
The director, delighted by the tension, clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! Now let’s break the ice!”
A staff member placed the bowl of cards on the table.
“Each group will take turns pulling a card and answering it. If you refuse, the other team gets a point. At the end of the week, the team with the most points gets a reward!”
“What kind of reward?” Romance asked suspiciously.
“A free day with no cameras.”
Everyone suddenly looked way more motivated.
First draw: Mira.
She pulled the card, read it, and groaned.
“Which member from the opposing group would you trust with a secret?”
She squinted across the table. “None of them.”
“You have to pick!” Zoey grinned.
Mira rolled her eyes. “Fine. Romance.”
He looked up, surprised. “Really?”
“You look like the type who’d forget the secret immediately. Safe.”
Next: Romance.
He picked a card.
“Describe your ideal type using three adjectives.”
Mira raised an eyebrow.
“Quiet,” he said softly. “Smart. Kind.”
Mira smirked. “Didn’t say my name, but okay.”
Rumi’s turn.
“What’s one thing you regret not saying when you had the chance?”
Her hand froze.
She didn’t look up.
She placed the card back in the bowl.
Saja Boys got the point.
Zoey leaned over. “Rumi—”
“I’m fine,” she said, too quickly.
Jinu’s fingers twitched under the table.
Abby reached for the next card, almost too quickly.
“Who in this group do you think would break the dating ban first?”
Romance howled. “Ohhh, they gave you the scandal bait!”
Abby just grinned.
“Well, it wouldn’t be me,” he said, all charm. “I don’t break bans. I bend them.”
Zoey made a gagging sound.
“But,” he added, tilting his head, “if I had to guess? Mira.”
Mira threw a pretzel at his face. “EXCUSE me?!”
“You’ve got that rebellious ‘let’s escape the dorm’ vibe.”
“Rebellious? Me?”
Abby leaned in slightly. “Don’t worry. I’d cover for you.”
Mira blinked.
Just once.
But enough for him to catch it.
Rumi stood suddenly.
“I’m going to get water.”
She didn’t wait for permission. She just left.
The director whispered something to the crew and gestured to follow her.
Jinu didn’t move.
But his grip on the chair tightened just enough that Abby noticed.
Romance laughed loudly, filling the space. “So... anyone wanna play Truth or Dare? No cameras?”
Baby rolled his eyes, “Hard pass.”
Mira shook her head, “Absolutely not.”
Zoey looked around a bit confused, “Actually yes.”
The director clapped again. “Perfect first round, everyone! Let’s break for room setup!”
In the kitchen, Rumi opened the fridge just to breathe.
She didn’t hear footsteps.
Until she did.
Jinu stood in the doorway. Hands in pockets. Saying nothing.
She didn’t turn.
“You’re still journaling?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I figured you stopped.”
“I didn’t.”
Pause.
“I didn’t reach out,” she said.
“I know.”
“You didn’t either.”
“I know.”
Another beat.
“Do we say anything else?”
“I don’t know.”
They stood there. Not quite close. Not quite apart.
Then the producer poked his head in. “Hey—sorry, can we mic you guys up for a quick kitchen cam? Just pretend you’re grabbing juice or something—”
They both turned away from each other instantly.
“Of course,” Rumi said smoothly.
“Right,” Jinu added.
But neither of them reached for the juice.
And neither of them left first.