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Chapter Text

1, 2, 3...

And up, and spread, and slide—

4, 5, 6, 7...

And down, and jump, and clap, and spin and—

"Pose!"

Two beautiful figures took over the stage, fallen straight from the sky, elegant, beautiful, divine. The first, the tallest, had long, black hair with waves like a river, and jet-black eyes that pierced the soul like a knife. Her skin was tanned like a flower, and she stood as if she had nothing to fear. Her light-colored clothes in contrast, hugged all the right places without bordering on vulgarity. Black boots that reminded you of your place.

The second, smaller, more playful, with short, messy, dirty-blond hair, as if you owed her, soft chocolate-brown eyes, as if they were already planning something. Pale skin, as if made of porcelain, a sweater that was perhaps too big, a canvas stained with recognizable colors and shapes, and shoes that screamed comfort. 

Labored breathing, radiant but tired smiles, and a small but encouraging round of applause filled the room. The girls' poses faltered, their cheeks flushed with exertion. 

Even so, they looked brilliant, the lights shining on them as if they were the only important thing in the room, and they were, you could see the girls perk up at the applause, their expressions softening, something more genuine blossoming from their hearts. 

And you? Oh my God, you were the happiest person in the room, patting yourself on the back for a job well done.

You rushed to hand out refreshingly cold bottles of water to the girls in the small backstage area, forgetting what personal space was for a few seconds, your hands flying to their cheeks as you squeezed and cooed, just like a proud mother would to her cute children. Not really paying attention to the sweaty sticking to your fingers.

"You two looked so cute out there! I swear, we'll become famous one day. You two are too amazing to go unnoticed!" You squealed happily, your voice rising an octave as you continued to croon sweet nothings about how amazing the performance was. You were so happy, excited, even ecstatic about what you'd just seen. Sometimes you couldn't believe you were a part of this.

"Please, stop Manager-nim, you're going to make me blush..." 'Angelari' mumbled in mock shyness, pulling away and pushing you lightly, in that soft voice she usually only used for fans, only to be interrupted by her own laughter, unable to continue the act. "You know we wouldn't shine this bright without you." Kyungmi mocked, bumping her hip against yours. The sound of the bottle opening echoed in the small space, followed by her chugging the water. 

'Lucine' groaned from the floor, looking as if a truck had run over her. "Stop being so cheesy, unnie, I'm going to throw up..." Ryu-na grumbled, truly with no bite beneath her words, she pressed the cold bottle against her cheek, instantly soothing her. 

"Forget it, you're amazing, I love you."

You laughed at the duo's antics, walking away from them for a second before returning with dry towels for their sweat. Ah, it's the least you could do for them. You've already stressed and distressed them enough this morning, going o an unexpected shopping trip and buy what most closely resembles their aesthetic on a low, very low budget.

The morning was going well, the cafeteria where you usually bought your morning coffee for you and the girls was almost empty, saving you a lot of time having to wait, besides, no car had tried to run you over so far, so, you could concentrate on making everything perfect for the new song, you had a good feeling—

 

RIIIING! You recognized the seamstress's name in the screen when you took out your phone, maneuvering with your non-dominant hand to make sure nothing fell out. Oh, how lucky! Surely the outfits were already ready. You would take advantage of picking them up since you were right there.

 

"Greetin—" "I quit!" What? WHAT? Did you hear right? You almost dropped thr drinks in surprise. No, you couldn't have heard right. That wasn't even acceptable in here—

 

"Excuse me?—" "You heard me! I quit!" Okay, it seemed she had a certain taste for interrupting you— Her words dragged on painfully. There wasn't a day you could be calm, was there? Oh god, every day you waited more for the day you died.

 

Your grip tightened on the almost forgotten drinks, feeling everything crumble, both metaphorically and literally. You opened your mouth, ready to ask for an explanation, a justification, an excuse—anything!—but before you could whine for her to stay, you were interrupted. AGAIN.

 

"I'm just getting nothin'! I refuse to continue being exploited like this, fuck off!" Okay, understandable crashout, you'd probably quit like that too if you weren't a workaholic.

 

"But—" She hung up on you!— she hung up on you. Okay, this was fine. You were fine, it's not like you were desperate or anything—no, not at all.

 

"Hey, we're talking to you." You felt hands squeeze your jaw and shake your head slightly. Well, it worked. It snapped you out of your little morning recap. Your eyes connected with Ryu-na's chocolate brown ones. She seemed disappointed but used to your strange silences at inopportune moments.

"You're always in your own world," The blonde grumbled, ripping the towel from your hands, maniacally drying her face. "Leave them alone, they're probably thinking about our next concert, right?" You felt a small squeeze on your shoulder from Kyungmi, while reaching with her other hand for the other towel, drying herself majestically while maintaining eye contact, her gaze understanding as always, always looking for excuses for your flaws, how cute, seriously. 

"Actually, girls..." Your voice fell into a barely audible murmur, your expression falling into thin air, your head hanging depressed. "There's something that's been bothering me these past few days, and...and I can't hide it anymore, I need to tell you..." 

You saw the exact moment their expressions dropped 3 meters underground, you even swore you saw Ryu-na's skin turn pale in a millisecond. They hurried over, worried for you— You felt their hands squeeze yours, their innocent faces filled with anticipation and fear.

"What happened? Are you okay?" "You don't have a terminal illness, do you?" "Oh, did the agency cut budgets again— Oh...did they—" "ARE YOU FIRED?!" 

The poor girls continued to bombard you with frightened questions, trying to find your gaze, but you just looked away, your eyes glossy, almost as if you were about to cry. Their murmurs fell silent the instant your hands firmly but gently gripped their arms. You heard how their breaths hitched, waiting for tragic news.

"Listen, you know I love you guys a lot, right...?" Your voice broke, you whispered conspiratorially, even turning away, almost as if you were forbidden to speak. Your expression seemed straight out of a tense and jaw-breaking scene from a K-drama, and somehow, it still looked believable. You watched as Kyungmi and Ryu-na nodded vigorously at your question. Oh, they were really believing it all.

"Well, as your manager, stylist, photographer, cook, choreographer, and now, seamster. I need to tell you that thanks to this concert, I realized that..."

"We need a direct pass to eat tteokbokki and ramyeon tonight! Just us, what do you think?" You hugged the girls by their shoulders nervously, squeezing them happily. Kyungmi had to bend down a little for you to reach her. Oh, of course you would do this, too coward to actually tell them the news.

The two of them looked at you as if you had just killed their beloved cat, your smile faltered a little, genuinely fearing for your safety.

The soft drizzle pattered the dark streets of Seoul, the cold getting to any poor soul who preferred to look good rather than stay warm. The three of you walked tiredly, you still complaining about the tremendous blow Kyungmi gave you and Ryu-na still trying to convince you that you were already close of the place! 

"I swear I didn't do it to worry you! I–" "Ta-da!" Ryu-na chirped, pointing to a small yellow tarp, which looked like a makeshift—but viable—shelter against the winds. The maknae dramatically opened the tarp, allowing the two of you to go through first. 

The smoke and the spicy smell were the first things that caught your senses. The sound of meat being grilled, the small metallic clicks of chopsticks, and the gentle fizz of soju filled the atmosphere, more welcoming than you'd imagined. The soft yellow lighting seemed to invite you in. Tables with corners that seemed to have already lost the battle, and the plastic chairs had resigned themselves to leaving the place despite its obvious flaws. It was undoubtedly the perfect place for you and your wallet.

"Welcome to the food palace! Perfect for managers with zero budget and a dream!" Ryu-na shook you cheerfully by the shoulders, pushing you into a chair, herself leaving her jacket onto another chair and technically throwing herself into it. Kyungmi was the most decent of the three of you; sitting like a pretty princess, what a darling, really, you didn't deserve her.

Ryu-na was already devouring the banchan politely placed on the table, breaking every rule of manners in a short minute. Kyungmi's fingers reached for the sticky, laminated menu with its yellow background and bold red lettering. She was already thinking about what to order without having to put too much strain on your bill. And well, you were completely fixated on the perfectly lined up, cold bottles of soju, tempting you to order, order, and order again. But luckily, your last brain cell was giving it its all. Your eyes returned to a small black notebook you were holding, courtesy of the agency. You took out your extremely childish and adorable pencil filled with glitter and a teddy bear charm on the tip—a teddy bear!

"How about—3 ramyeons, a gimbap, 3 servings of tteokbokki, and a bottle of soju?" Kyungmi suggested, leaning closer to your shoulder, watching as you started writing down the bills. Ramyeon: ₩3,000 -> ₩9,000 Gimbap: ₩3,500 Tteokbokki: ₩4,000 -> ₩12,000  Soju: ₩3,000 

You cringed at the prices, the prices were okay, just average—just you were too broke to pay it. Aside from the fact that you knew you weren't going to settle for just one round of soju. "Did you know that soju has been scientifically proven to improve managers' work performance?" You blurted out, trying to convince them and yourself to succumb to the god soju.

Kyungmi raised an eyebrow. “Scientifically? Where did you read that, (Name)?” “In my heart,” you replied solemnly, your hands gripping your notebook as if it would protect you from all the evils of the world. The ajumma tending the stall approached without asking too many questions, used to the antics of young people. "Could you give me, um, two ramyeon, a gimbap, one serving of tteokbokki, and a bottle of soju? Please?" Ramyeon ×2: ₩6,000, Gimbap ×1: ₩3,500 Tteokbokki ×1: ₩4,000, Soju ×1: ₩3,000.

The ajumma passed one of the ice-cold bottles to Ryu-na, who looked like she had been shot right in the heart, betrayal flashing in her eyes. "Just one serving? What are we? Vagrants?" The blonde protested, her eyes piercing your soul and making you feel your sins crawling up your back. Her perfectly manicured nails gripped the neck of the bottle, opening it with practiced ease and pouring the contents into three small glasses while gazing scarily at you. How scary, she was probably thinking of doing the same thing to your head.

You didn't hesitate for long before downing the glass in one gulp, the comforting burn passing through your throat. You let out an exaggerated sigh, resting your face on your hand as you scribbled in your notebook, though the silence didn't last long, Kyungmi letting out a little scream that startled you and Ryu-na altogether. Damn, who had died now?

"Look, look!" she called, turning her phone so you could see it too. You saw a completely golden screen, the word 'GOLDEN' written elegantly in the center (redundantly), while below the word was a countdown by noon tomorrow. "Huntrix is releasing a new single, tomorrow!—"

A series of high-pitched screams filled the tent, causing people at other tables to turn to see the cause of the commotion. "NO WAY." "Aren't they supposed to go on hiatus?" "Ryu-na, please stop me from spending all of (Name)'s money on their merch." "Oh my god?—"

Their voices mingled in a hodgepodge of conspiracy theories, doubts, and lots and lots of fanatic bliss.

"Ugh, I hate that I couldn't make it to the last concert of the tour." Ryu-na groaned, burying her head in her hands. Tragedy, really what a tragedy. "Dude, those tickets cost a kidney each— you couldn't even afford it!" "I'd sell all my organs just to see their beautiful, perfect faces up close..." Kyungmi babbled dreamily, followed by nods and approvals from both of you. Before you knew it, Ryu-na and you were on either side of Kyungmi, peeking at her phone to see more about the greatest girl band of all time.

Soon, a video of the live concert was playing on the screen. Lights everywhere, screams from the audience as the girl trio killed it— THEY LITERALLY FELL OUT OF THE SKY. Zoey’s rapping, Mira’s smooth yet sharp moves, and Rumi’s beautiful whistle note— And that was a person dressed as a demon exploding in glitter?? Oh god, the special effects were so incredible, you almost doubted they weren’t real!

"Rumi is so beautiful... She's like a goddess, it's impossible for such beauty to be from this world..." "Ugh, why does Mira have to be so hot? Unfair." "I need all three of them on my bed." Before the other two could give you strange looks, the ajumma came with all of your orders, somehow managing to balance all the trays in her arms. The three of you quickly separated and took Kyungmi phone's away, trying to help the ajumma serve.

The table was filled with extravagant smells and colors, the metal pots of ramyeon sweating as the liquid inside bubbled deliciously, the gimbap delicately rolled, divinely, and the portion of tteokbokki shining right in the middle, as if it were a special guest.

"Did I die...?" You muttered under your breath. "This...this is heaven..." You leaned over to look at all the dishes, the spiciness making your nose itch. You swore you were drooling, and you knew your companions weren't far behind. "Give me three more bottles of soju, please!"

Ryu-na was the first to move, her metal chopsticks raised, ready to attack the tteokbokki. "Mine!" But before she could launch a terrorist attack, Kyungmi's chopsticks intervened, a stern look piercing the younger girl. "Sharing is caring! Weren't you taught any manners? Let your elders eat first!" "You're not even the oldest! You liar!"

You tried to keep up the facade of 'very mature and serious looking manager', but you were terrible at it, with the seriousness of having read 3 manuals on "How to Be a Good Manager" and none on "How to Control Yourself with Food". Your mouth full and your cheeks puffed out from trying to eat a whole gimbap roll. "Girls, don't fight...nom...we have to maintain the...nomnom... public image..."

It's not like they're listening to you, either.

You opened your notebook again, preparing your pen for the slaughter. “internal loan: Ryu-na 5, Kyungmi 3, (Name) — manager's honor.” 

By the time you finally finished swallowing, the plates were almost empty, the ramyeon long gone, and all that was left was a single tteokbokki, in all its glory.

You could see how the supposedly best friends were now killing each other with their eyes, having the same thought: 'Dare, DARE.' 

"I'll bet a thousand won that Kyungmi wins," you said casually, taking another shot of soju. Kyungmi scoffed exasperatedly. She had The Manager's support, so it was obvious she would win.

"TRAITOR????" 

And the war began, words flew like bullets, chopsticks clattered on the plate, shouts as if world peace would be achieved depending on who won.

You obviously took advantage and grabbed the last tteokbokki, showing off while taking longer chewing than you should have for a small rice cake. You didn't hear the silence, you felt it. It throbbed. Two pairs of eyes pierced you as if you were Satan themselves.

You were so cooked.

"No! Stop moving like that! Why do you make it so stiff???" 

 

"Bro, if I do it like that, my babies won't be appreciated." Another flex, air that didn't come from the windows blowing on his beautiful sculpted abs.

 

"What are you talking about??? your shirt is about to explode????? If you show any more, we'll be reported for public indecency." Loser, loser, loser. King of losers.

 

The black-haired man tried to fix his bandmate's posture, failing miserably.

 

"Do you think I look handsome enough?" A poet and a dog, he turned his head majestically, his hair moving as if he had a constant fan making him look perfect.

 

Nod.

 

"But what kind of handsome, hot handsome or cute handsome?"

 

Shake of head.

 

"Neither of them?!"

 

Nod.

 

"Oh god, at this rate I won't be able to cage anyone's heart, I'm doomed."

 

Pat.

 

"At this rate, NO ONE is going to fall for our charms," he scoffed bitterly, a stressed hand rubbing his temple. "If we don't take this seriously, we'll never be able to defeat The Huntrix, and we—"

 

"—The Huntrix? God, you're so old."

 

"It's like he's 400 years old, dude."

 

"You remind me of a villainous king, I read it recently—"

 

He wondered why he chose these failures to be part of his grand plan, why Jinu, why.

 

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE—

You slammed the alarm button as if it had personally offended you.

It didn't make you wake up with less energy, though.

Tumble outta bed and I stumble onto the kitchen

You turn on the stove without thinking twice, putting the kettle on while you add pins to a new board like a maniac, you had to finish the mood board right away! The girls needed to have an idea of what you had planned for today.

You realized you'd had enough when the kettle was already whistling.

Pour myself a cup of ambition

managernim (9:12)

pin.it/731k1ZAnGzlss

look the aesthetic

look

very

closely

bring your pretty asses to where we always meet up

yu know right

you

love you don't take long

☺️

Your autopilot finished making the coffee without you even noticing, drinking it in one go. You were going to start this morning off right; you had big plans for today.

And yawn and stretch and try to come to life

You let go of your cute bunny slippers, occupying your hands with your shampoo, conditioner, and eye bag concealer that you stole from Ryu-na. (to this day she is still looking for it.)

Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumping

You start to spin slightly in front of the mirror, hands on your hips. You look good, obviously you do. Your outfit, beautiful and stunning, as always, what good taste you had in clothes! what a pretty, pretty manager.

You grabbed your keys and your bag that had everything in it, you were sure that if a zombie virus sprang out of nowhere, this bag would save you. You admired for a few seconds the cute Rumi, Mira, and Zoey keychains hanging from your keys, beautiful, art. Your lucky charms.

You closed your door with a soft click, waiting for the elevator.

Out on the street the traffic's jumping

You wove through the crowd, stumbling here and there, but nothing you hadn't lived before. Oddly, today the crowd seemed even more packed than ever. Not that you cared; you had more important things to do.

With folks like me on the job from 9 to 5 (mm, yeah!)

You started humming without realizing it, your headphones blasting. That's how all your mornings were. It seemed monotonous, but you liked the routine. Especially when it included the girls you loved so much.

"Working 9 to 5— what a way to make a livin'—" You sang silently, your eyes scanning the place for the already recognizable silhouettes of your girls.

Barely getting by, it's all taking and no giving

You strolled along the path, making a short mental list of what you had to do today.

They just use your mind and they never give you credit

And you see them, in all their splendor, clearly worn from last night. You hum happily, approaching them. Your mind is racing; the coffee really did the trick.

It's enough to drive you crazy if you let it!

You hugged them by their shoulders, taking them by surprise, your hands lightly shaking them, reiterating your arrival. "Girls! You're here!" You squealed in a high-pitched voice, only receiving groans and tired looks in response. How is it possible that you seem so unaffected if you were the one who drank the most yesterday???

"Girls...Why soju makes...numbers look kinda hot...?"

It seemed like Kyungmi was going to say something—a taunt, a complaint, something—but you didn't even give her a chance, taking out your phone and searching for something while you started to ramble.

"You saw the board I sent you, right? It's all the things I have planned for you, outfits, hairstyles—everything!" You happily beamed, almost jumping on your heels, only to be met with faces of pure confusion. 

Oh, okay.

"You didn't see it then." You said more softly, almost letting disappointment get the better of you. Almost. You hurried to open the board and hold it in their hands. "Okay, never mind, look at it, now."

You pushed the little of their backs so they could start walking, listening to small murmurs of their ideas, you maked a mental note of them for later.

"Ohh, cute." "I like the angelic aesthetic, you cooked." "It reminds me a lot of what we wore in our debut..." "Why is there so much dyed hair—are you thinking of frying my hair again?"

You silenced Ryu-na with your index finger, standing between them. You grabbed her hands and intertwined your fingers with theirs. You were fucking glowing, what could you do? You loved talking about new concepts and your ideas.

"Okay, listen, as you've noticed, I'm really excited about the new song—a new era for us!" You tightened your grip for a few seconds, taking a moment to catch your breath and calm down a bit. "So, because of that, and if we're lucky—we'll get to perform the song for the first time on TV! Like—"

"Are you serious!?" Ryu-na almost screamed, composing herself slightly, her chest was doing a strange thing that made it hard for her to breathe properly from the excitement.

"This isn't one of your silly jokes again, is it...?" The black-haired squeezed your arm, maybe a little too tightly, but you just gave her a carefree chuckle. Oh, you were serious.

Oh.

...

You were serious.

A series of screams attacked your ears, giving you a little deja vu of what happened the night before, but this was much more exciting than the single, actually more exciting than anything.

You chuckled a little more, feeling the other two technically vibrating with happiness. All the bitterness and laziness of the morning hangover was gone, not even leaving a trace that it had ever been there. Now you looked like three kids who had just climbed the tallest tree.

"I— We— You...How did you do it?" Kyungmi whispered-shouted, not knowing whether to congratulate you or worry at how you even managed to find a space for them there.

"Nah, it's no biggie, talking to some contacts, pulling some strings here and there—and selling my soul, I did it." You boasted, trying to make it seem less so, waving your hand dismissively. But you couldn't contain your own excitement, small giggles coming out of you.

"DEAR MANAGER PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR EVERYTHING," Ryu-na cried into your shoulder, her arms clutching yours as if you were going to disappear like it was all a dream, her cheeks pink with adrenaline and emotion. "I swear that from today on I'm all yours! I'll never make mistakes in choreography again and no more glitter traps ever! I swear on my life!"

Well, that did sound good, actually.

You sighed happily, this was a big step for your group, KIZANG★LS, After so much time in the shadows, it was time for them to shine. You'd make sure of it. Everyone would look on in admiration, and you'd be able to say, "I was there from the beginning."

The two of them started walking much faster than you, their hands now glued to your phone as they fangirled about what their future could hold. Let them. Hope and dreaming are the most beautiful things in this world.

You began to lose yourself in your own world too, thinking about the stages, the lights, the audience. Everything. Finally, you wouldn't have to skimp on budgets if this went well. You would finally have a team of staff, people to fix the girls up, to make sure they looked impeccable, professional makeup, cameras to capture them, videographers who would strive to maintain their essence in the MVs and lives, everything! Besides, it wouldn't all fall on you anymore. Yes, obviously, you would still be their beloved manager, but only that. You wouldn't have to worry about other jobs that weren't yours anymore; now you could work to your full capacity—

Ack!

Shit, you tripped over someone again.

You blurted out an apology without thinking much about it, your head bowed as you felt shame pass through your body, feeling the familiar heat on your neck and ears, you looked up and what you saw was— interesting, very interesting.

A trio of girls in front of you, in crisis, staring at you like some weird zoo animal, and seeming to be descending into madness and freaking out with your mere presence, in fact, they looked as if they were about to explode—

"I'm...Sorry...?" You couldn't help but tilt your head, still very confused, you let out a small 'huh' before turning your gaze to the floor, something resting on the ground.

A phone.

Okay, now it was your turn to freak out.

You let out a squeak, you ducked down at lightning speed, revealing your bag and your keychains, you stayed down there for a few seconds, picking up their phone in fear, oh, how you prayed it wasn't broken, you genuinely feared how they would react if they saw you breaked their phone. You turned it over slowly and... was safe and sound!

Rumi, Mira and Zoey were having a meltdown in the middle of the street, they were supposed to be avoiding people— Wait, were those Huntrix keychains??? THEY WERE DOOMED, A FAN— Should they run??? because their legs were ready to flee. But they couldn't just leave Zoey's phone with some random, much less a fan!!!!

You stood up slowly, brushing the dust off the screen and inspecting the phone in your hands. Huh, cute phone case, it had little turtles all over it. Your mouth quivered in a shy smile.

"Sorry again, I wasn't looking where I was going." You bowed again, a little lower than the last time. Your hand shakily reached out, offering the phone like some kind of offering to a hungry beast. You expected insults, a curse, maybe even a shove for being so careless, but you were only greeted by a hand that slid the phone out of your hand, and an unbroken silence.

You composed yourself again. The three girls seemed to jump and straighten up exaggeratedly, sweating bullets. You didn't say much. Your gaze now focused on what was in front of you. What appeared to be an old hanok building, now rebuilt, a clinic, with the unfortunately familiar lettering, "Han 의원".

"Are you going there?" You pointed mindlessly at the clinic, your eyes searching their gazes before turning back to the establishment, your other hand going to your chin as your brow furrowed slightly.

"Yes— I mean! NO." The girl in the bucket hat answered you, perhaps too quickly. She looked horrified by her own response, having been fooled by her own words. It's not like you even noticed. Your gaze centered, judging the clinic.

You let out a soft 'mh' as you nodded. Maybe if you stared long enough, the doctor's face would disappear. "I don't recommend it much. I went there once and almost had my back broken. But he's good with advice, though."

"I see... I see... You have a hard time saying no to others, don't you?" The so-called doctor said in a tone matter-of-factly, and before you could even deny such an accusation, his elbow impacted against your back, a disgusting crunch that would make anyone flinch. "AHHHHHHH——"

You continued nodding, your brows furrowing even further. Your head was completely elsewhere at the memory of that damn doctor.

Okay, either you were incredibly stupid, or you were too distracted, either way, at least it was cute. Maybe this was the time to run? You seemed distracted enough to notice if they were gone... in fact, you were distracted enough not to notice who the trio of girls were.

"Actually, we were going to go there! My friend needs some tonics for her voice—"

"ZOEY??????" 

 

"What? They don't even seem to know who we are??"

 

"Well, they do know, but I don't think they've realized it yet—" Mira scoffed lightly, shaking her head and pointing at you subtly—

 

She found your head completely turned towards her, your eyes open, your ass listened to every bit of the conversation.

 

And you looked at her.

 

And she looked at you.

 

And you looked at her.

 

It was too late to run, right? right.

They could clearly hear the gears in your head turning loudly, and as if an angel had illuminated you, the little light bulb in your head went on.

Oh, it's Huntrix. 

Your mouth formed into a small "o", your eyes sparkled slightly in recognition, you subtly straightened up, clearing your throat while suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

Oh, it's Huntrix.

The girls visibly flinched, expecting some kind of scream, something like "OH MY GOD IT'S HUNTRIX!!!!!" or something like that, but there was only silence, a long, drawn-out silence.

'OHMYGODIT'SHUNTRIXOHMYGODIT'SHUNTRIXOHMYGODIT'SHUNTRIXOHMYGODIT'SHUNTRIXOHMYGODIT'SHUNTRIX' 

Your mind screamed in despair.

You laughed awkwardky, your voice sounding very strained and weak. Your cheeks flushed and goosebumps prickled your skin. Your hand reached up to scratch the back of your neck, almost on impulse, a way to keep yourself grounded.

"Hun...trix...What a coincidence...to see you...here." God, why did you sound so pathetic just now? Please don't screw up.

pleasedon'tscrewuppleasedon'tscrewuppleasedon'tscrewup

You laughed nervously, your hands reaching your clothes to play with the hem, trying to wipe away the sweat that only seemed to reappear.

"Um, I'm sure you're very busy, aren't you...? doing your...idol-stuff..." You raised your hands to make a weak, awkward fingerguns. The only one who played along was Zoey with thumbs-up, and for some reason, that made you cringe even more. Congratulations, you just won the Most Socially Awkward Person award and the Screwing Up In Front Of Your Idols award.

"I have to go—HA, to do manager...stuff! with my girls hehe...—"

...

Where were your girls?

"GIRLS????" 

You whimpered as you turned around to try to escape, WHERE WERE THEY?? You saw their figures in the distance, very far away. You blurted out the umpteenth apology as you ran off in the direction of Ryu-na and Kyungmi. 

"Such... Such an interesting person..." Rumi said under her breath, her hand covering her mouth.

 

"Okay, that was weirdly cute," Mira said confused, watching your form fade into the distance. 

 

"Hey, we didn't even give them an autograph or anything—" Zoey exasperated, her hands pointing to the place where you used to be.

 

"Poor baby." Mira closed her eyes, her deepest condolences. No one would believe you.

 

Chapter Text

Uh...

What the actually fuck...?

You were stunned, completely stunned, perplexed—how was it even possible that these two would spend so much money...? How can they be so financially irresponsible?? Your bank account was in NEGATIVE NUMBERS, HOW DID THEY EVEN DO IT????

A single drop of sweat rolled down your temple, just one, you felt the air leave your lungs. Why was it so cold now? You closed your mouth in a thin line. Oh, they better get famous soon. Or you would personally go to their closets and burn everything, you didn't want the money, you wanted revenge!

Ugh, there was nothing you could do now. It was already too late. You literally just walked them to take a taxi home. Fucking traitors...! They looked so innocent— You even complimented them on how good they looked! You feel worse than betrayed. You're sure not even Judas would have dared to do that.

You threw yourself exhaustedly on your small sofa, sinking into it along with all your dreams, a bitter expression adorning your face. Young people and their carelessness, oh, just wait a few years to see all their hopes crushed by reality—

Why did you sound so much like an old man? 

...

Maybe you're just hungry...?

You let out a resigned snort, trying to sink deeper into the softness of the sofa, if that's even possible, you closed your eyes for a few seconds, your hand on your phone softening its grip little by little. Maybe you could sleep.

Your stomach protested at this.

Okay, maybe you shouldn't go to sleep yet.

You complained, you whined, you wailed, loudly. Why did you have to have human needs? How unfair, what an unfair body! But you shouldn't have to make the suffering last so tortuously long. Get up already, (Name).

You got up reluctantly, listening to your couch begging you to stay, but you had things to do. The most tragic breakup of the century.

Your feet shuffled around the small apartment, searching for the basket containing all your clothes, which you'd tried a thousand times to fold the clothes neatly but always ended the same way, a mess. You'd given up a long time ago; you'd lost the war.

You found something comfortable to wear, a ripoff of the pajamas Huntrix once promoted, though they were somehow still good quality, still haven't faded and technically remaining intact. You could tell anyone it was the original and they'd believe you! Well, except for a fan, obviously—

You shook your head, finding yourself lost in your thoughts again. For some reason, you liked narrating your own actions, almost as if someone could see you.

You struggled a bit as you put the hoodie on, though as much as you wanted to show off your Huntrix shirt, the streets were freezing cold, and you didn't want to die of hypothermia on any given Monday, so you'd have to suck it up and put on the hoodie that's been with you since you got here.

Your feet shuffled noisily, you still didn't quite agree with having to walk when you were so tired, but you knew the nearest convenience store was just a few steps away, one more point toward the pros of living in the capital where everything was close by.

You let out the most pathetic groan ever heard as you stepped out of the complex your posture instantly slumping, your expression clearly saying "Please don't fuck with me, I'll make sure you regret it." like a sign in bold red letters plastered across your forehead.

You put your hands in your pockets, a sigh leaving your lips, your shoulders relaxing little by little, your eyes were half-closed, admiring mindlessly the dark sky, the lonely and peaceful streets, a clear contrast to the usual crowded and noisy streets of Seoul.

You appreciated the silence, the only thing that interrupted it were your soft footsteps, the lights in the apartments slowly going out, one by one, people already going to rest, preparing for a tiring day of work tomorrow.

And in the blink of an eye, you arrived at the front of the store, vending machines lined up temptingly, light streaming through the glass doors, your eyes squinting to adjust to the light. The glass was slightly fogged up from the cold. You pushed open the door, the bell announcing your entry. A soft gust of air hit you, only to be greeted by the warmer air inside the store and a soft "Eoseo-oseyo..." that barely reached your ears.

You had a mission, buy some spicy buldak, Yangpa Rings, and best of all—a Milkis. Yes, that would totally make your night less miserable.

Buldak, Yangpa Rings, Milkis— Okay, you can do this!

You headed straight for the ramyeon area, a paradise filled with options to choose from—sometimes just for fun you blindly pick one and then play Russian roulette to see what strange flavor comes out. But not today. You wanted to eat something familiar, something you knew you liked. Your eyes scanned the different colorful packages until you found the recognizable color, reaching for your favorite flavor. Too focused to notice the sound of the bell jingling, another person arriving at the store.

You hummed happily, your next stop—the Milkis! The coolers were just a step away, so you didn't really walk that far.

Gently opening the refrigerator, the soft hum of the motor filling your ears. You struggled a bit to find your precious drink, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. Ugh, you were just unlucky enough to happen upon a store that was short on the drink. You crouched down, too stubborn to give up just yet. A lone can of Milkis sat at the bottom, almost as if someone had hidden it there. Your eyes lit up, you gripped the can almost as if it would vanish at any moment.

You swore this was the best night of your life.

About to move on to the last snack on your short list, you came across a tall figure that almost scared you to death.

"AH—" A pathetic, frightened sound left your lips, tripping over your own feet because you were that dumb. Your back slammed the refrigerator door shut.

While the stranger? Completely unfazed, his expression deadpan, as if you were a waste of time. Disappointed.

His baby face made you mistake him for a teenager, a tall, and intimidating teenager, mint-colored hair that matched his eyes, bored, annoyed, almost as if you were the problem here. A baby blue sweater seemed to swallow his figure, definitely not his size, and shorts that were only holding onto a poor, thin strap, not his size either—

His gaze was completely fixed on the drink in your hand, the slightest irritation you could have witnessed passing through his eyes, only to look at you with... Disgust? Seriously? This stupid pubescent boy was looking at you with disgust? Who did he think he was? Stupid young people...

You adjusted your grip on the Milkis, and no matter how small the movement was, the boy followed the can with his eyes as if his life depended on it. What the...?

Oh.

He wanted the Milkis.

You raised your eyebrow at this, switched the can to your other hand, and like a cat seeing its prey, his gaze shot to your other hand. Fixed on the Milkis.

Okay, this is entertaining.

After playing with this boy's obsessive fixation on the carbonated drink for a little, you let out a sigh of surrender, a small chuckle threatening to emerge. Okay, you'd had enough fun, you weren't feeling so grumpy anymore. And in what was a moment of enlightenment and divine wisdom. You extended the can, offering it to the teenager.

Look, there are more times your teenage self has wished a stranger had offered you that last can of Milkis for no apparent reason than you can count, so you'd be the adult you'd dreamed existed!

"Here," you murmured, amused, watching the boy perk up. "You seem to need it more than I do."

Well done (Name), making the world a better place! It all starts with a small step—

The boy snatched the Milkis from your grasp, the can resting peacefully in his strong grip, as if you were the villain waiting to steal from him. He glanced at you, only to start walking in the opposite direction. But not before giving you a exaggerated side-eye (directed at your pajamas) and a stupid grin, just to walk as if nothing happened.

What.

What?

You let out a breathless laugh, still not believing what had just happened, sorry? what? this couldn't be real right? There was no way some STUPID teenager could have tricked you into giving him your Milkis (He didn't, you were just dumb) to then look at you with that stupid grin and not even say thank you? What the fuck was wrong with teenagers these days?

Your grip tightened painfully on Buldak's packaging, oh, how you wish it was legal to hit rude people.

With a loud snort, your footsteps thundered towards the snack aisle, making sure the rude teenager heard you. That's what you get for being a good person. If you started to be shitty to others, maybe life would treat you better?

Your steps dragged along the entire hallway, you looked with annoyance at all the options, why did they even need so many flavors? The small interaction from earlier put you in a sour mood. How is it possible for someone to brighten your evening only to ruin it in the space of a minute? Some people only existed to make others miserable; you're sure that boy was one of them.

You were little dramatic, just a little.

And you saw it, the Yangpa Rings, in all their glory, on the highest shelf.

You tried to reach it (and failed), your futile attempts simply a tragic sight to watch, why did they make the fucking shelves so high? WHY right in this aisle? Who was the dumbass one who designed this? And who was the stupid one who approved this poor design decision?

You cursed yourself and your stupid average height.

And then, you felt it. 

That stare, heavy, annoying, uncomfortable. Glued to your back, as if it were about to be pierced at any moment, You barely turned your head, and you saw him. The mint-haired boy, standing there with his arms dangling, the stolen Milkis in one hand, his fingers drumming the metal with a gentle rhythm, his gaze, bored, annoyed, directed at you, with a bitter tinge of superiority. As if you were the one who was superfluous here, your breathing a nuisance to him. 

Your eyes narrowed, your lips forming a thin line. This guy looked like he'd come straight from hell just to make a simple purchase on something annoying.

Well, you wouldn't be far behind. 

"Can you get this for me?" Your voice turned extremely sweet and syrupy, rising an octave higher. Your lips curled into a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Please?" You blatantly pointed at the packaging, your voice so sweet it would give him diabetes. You didn't bother to hide your obvious annoyance; you wanted him to notice!—

He leaned over, not making you wait long, easily reaching for the Yangpa Rings packaging, his fingers curling slightly. He gave the snack a cursory inspection, perhaps judging you internally, before technically shoving it in your face.

"This?" A deep, gravelly voice interrupted your thoughts, his voice resonating like thunder in your chest, not at all in keeping with his childish face. Rough, as if coming from someone who has lived decades upon decades and not from someone whose cheeks were soft. It sounded too serious and intimidating to match his innocent face.

Wow, so he wasn't a stupid teenager.

That made it much worse.

Your hands shot out for the packaging, wanting to rip it off him, just like he'd ripped your Milkis off. But in what felt like a millisecond, the bag slipped from his fingers, falling to the cold floor with a defeating 'Thwack!'.

"Oops, it slipped."

Your eyes followed the object's descent with an almost religious solemnity, as if you had just witnessed the fall of an empire. The sound of the poor packaging hitting the floor with a loud thud resonates throughout the store, mocking you. Your reflection in the overly polished floor shows a mixture of humiliation and pity. The silence becomes heavy, as if the entire store is waiting for your reaction. The last vestige of your dignity… now desecrated.

Instead of picking it up, you stood completely still.

You stared miserably at the ground, your last shred of dignity, your little sanity, torn away and discarded on the floor. Your lips trembled, biting your tongue before you began to spiral and recite a tragic monologue about the your offspring towards madness.

This was a theater, where you were the protagonist who took the role in a play made only to humiliate you. The antagonist, the villain, watched with amusement, looking down from above with that superiority that would make anyone fall. The silence weighed like a curtain. You, in the center, with lights directed at you, while the audience watched your tragic fall. Your head bowed, a hollow and soft laugh, unrecognizable, a laugh that announced your madness, with that tragic irony that losers like you possessed. Your fingers closed in nothingness, trying to capture the memory of what had been yours. He continued to watch you, his gaze not as cruel as before, just watching. Watching as you became the martyr of your own tragedy.

Ahem...

You placed the two items on the register. You could hear the small beep of the items being scanned, and soon you handed over your card. Your gaze drifted off, the memory still fresh in your mind.

Humiliation.

Shame. 

Damn young people!—

"Gamsahamnida..." You could hear a soft murmur, automatic and sleepy, after giving you a small bag, the cashier went back to her cell phone, her mask hiding any kind of emotion.

Damn young people...

You pushed open the door, already tired of life, your legs deciding it was a great time to tire themselves out. Feeling exhausted, the whole weight of the day falling there, outside the store.

And to make matters worse?

He was there.

Leaning against one of the vending machines, Milkis in hand, a straw stuck in it. He was there, sipping loudly and tortuously, making every second a living hell. The roar of the straw traveling to your ears. 

“ssssSSSLURP—”

He slurped grotesquely, his smug grin still adorning his lips and his eyes half-closed, even when the can had been emptied of any contents, he continued to slurp obscenely, just to contemplate your reaction.

He let out an exaggerated, satisfied sigh, maintaining eye contact the entire time. "It was delicious," he purred, raising the empty can like a sick type of cheers. You didn't forgive him for a single reaction, nothing. Absolutely nothing.

You narrowed your eyes at him, Little shit...! You sneered under your breath, walking past him and giving him the slightest shove, letting him know you were upset, yeah, he deserved it!

Baby stood with his hand raised, watching you stormed off angrily into the distance. An amused snort escaped him without him even realizing it. Lowering the can, his fingers softly tapping it. His grip on the empty can tightened so slightly. Maybe... He could add it to his collection of human things. He hoped to see you again. You were fun, very fun to torment.

 

And in the blink of an eye, Baby's figure had completely disappeared, a pall of pink smoke taking his place.

The sound of rubber dragging on the floor, small jumps and quick movements filled the small studio, the light of day filtered through the windows of the rented place and hit the bodies of two certain girls, listless and tired, the rhythm of the new song resonated in their ears on loop, before it excited them, now it annoyed them.

Their movements were unsynchronized, clumsy, and slow, with soft huffs coming from them every time they had to perform a slightly more complicated step. Sweat rolled down their temples, their hair stubbornly sticking to them, making them groan in annoyance every damn time.

"1, 2, 3— Ugh, I can't, I can't take it anymore." Ryu-na collapsed on the floor, trying to wipe the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

Kyungmi's lips parted, ready to scold her companion, to tell her to get up, to stop being so lazy, but just as quickly as she opened her mouth, she closed it, a tired sigh also leaving her, sliding down the glass until she was sitting on the floor with a soft thump. "Who am I kidding? me neither..."

The two of them let out a tired groan in unison. They looked at each other in surprise, only to burst into tired, silly giggles.

"I don't want to dance anymore...m' tired, I'm sure they won't be upset if we don't practice one day..." Ryu-na whined, crawling into her bandmate's lap and laying her head there, Kyungmi, who tried to push the blonde away without much success, finished giving up and letting her be.

"Oh—forget it, I still can't get rid of my head the text they sent last night..." Ryu-na's voice changed completely, her tone harsher and almost scared, her eyes widening in awareness. While her shoulders tensed at the memory.

managernim (0:57)

hope u can't sleep

im gonna get ya

im in yoruur walls k

waiting

for ur death

and then im going to celebrate it like my fucking borthfay

birthdsy

birthday

🙂

ryuryu💕 (9:27)

huh 😭🥀⁉️

UnnieKyung<3 (9:45)

Babe, did you even sleep?

What happened??

Should I be worried???

managernim (9:51)

no

Kyungmi cackled loudly at the memory, her finger wiping away a tear of laughter that was threatening to fall. It spread to Ryu-na, the room filling with soft laughter from both of them.

"Oh god...Do you think they're still upset about yesterday?" Kyungmi snorted in amusement, her hand gently brushing back the strands of hair that were blocking her view.

"Definitely. We literally left them at zero. We went over." Ryu-na replied back, a smile beginning to appear on her lips. More laughter followed.

"I can't imagine their face, I'm sure they said something like, 'Damn young people, you'll soon see!'" Kyungmi standed up, hand in her chest, her voice matched your exact tone, making the blonde laugh hysterically.

"Nonono, surely they said, 'Back in my time...'—" Ryu-na couldn't even finish before rolling on the floor in laughter, her fist thumping repeatedly. The atmosphere now felt lighter.

Speaking of the devil.

The study door suddenly opened with a loud bang, your sour expression silencing their laughter. 

Ryu-na and Kyungmi stood up straight in a flash, not even suspecting they were slacking a few seconds ago. Their postures fell back into sync, almost as if they'd been practicing with complete seriousness.

You muttered something neither of them could hear, your grip on your thermos filled to the brim with strong coffee visibly tightening, taking a few sips before addressing them. "Choreo..."

"Eh?"

"The new choreography, the one I told you to practice, you know? New song?" You set down your thermos on the floor, reaching for the maknae's phone to start the track from scratch, bringing the speaker with you. Your words made a loud click in the girls' heads, a switch flipping on. Kyungmi laughed nervously as she scratched the back of her neck, Ryu-na hurrying into position.

"Ah, yes, that... From the beginning!" She sang perhaps a little too loudly as she too got into position, Ryu-na accompanying her words with a very suspicious nod.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, waiting for them to hurry up, your thumb hovering over the play button. And without warning, you put on the song. 

The girls gave you a quick, worried glance before starting their choreography—for some reason, they felt more nervous today. Maybe it was your glare? Or maybe it was that they knew they hadn't practiced enough and were afraid of your wrath? Whatever it was, you could tell. They were out of sync, the transitions taking longer than they should have, clumsy arm movements that instead of looking smooth, looked robotic.

You stared at them in judgmental silence. You stopped the music, letting out a small sigh before standing up and walking straight over to them.

Ryu-na visibly flinched, stopping her movements as she watched you approach. "Your arm has to go like this." You murmured softly, your hands grasping and guiding her arm into the correct position. "Not like this."

Your gaze shifted to Kyungmi, who hid behind a weak, nervous laugh. The sight made your lips quiver at the corners in a small smile. You nudged her feet together, your touch adjusting her posture. "And the spin doesn't end with your feet apart, right?" You asked calmly, your voice softer than they had ever heard.

The girls exchanged a brief glance before turning back to you, who was standing in front of them with your back to them, your hands stacked on top of each other as you replicated one of the steps. "You have to swivel your hips, smoothly, it need to catch the eyes."

You turned around again, sliding back to the floor, leaning all your weight on one hand, phone in hand, ready to repeat. "Do it again, until you get it right, okay?"

The girls gave a determined nod, seeming to come back to life and ready to make things right.

You couldn't help but smile.

You panted tiredly, the small migraine starting to bother you, slipping in the mirror and throwing your head back, letting out small huffs as you tried to catch your breath.

"That... That's all for today, good work, girls..." You mumbled breathlessly, fanning yourself, giving them a small, weak smile before disintegrating and melting against the wall. How long had you practiced? God, all you knew was that it was just long enough for the sky to start turning pink and the first stars to start making themselves noticeable.

It wasn't long before two weights pressed against your sides, and you opened your eyes tiredly to notice the two girls using you as their personal pillow. To your left, Ryu-na rested her head on your shoulder, holding and admiring your hand like it was the most interesting thing in the world. While to your right, Kyungmi used your head as support for her own, her eyes closed and her breathing faintly quelling you.

They stayed like that for a while, until their cheeks returned to their original color and their breathing finally calmed down. 

"You're going to be the death of me, I swear," you grumbled without bite under it, your smile betraying your true feelings. "You're accelerating my aging, you're going to give me gray hair."

"And then we'll both dye our hair gray," Kyungmi answered skillfully without missing a beat, her tone weaker than ever. "Yeah, and then it'll become a trend because we'll be so famous and everyone will dye their hair gray." Ryu-na insisted in a childish tone, poking at your side to elicit a giggle from you. The three of you laughed at the thought.

"Imagine everyone with gray hair... A new era..." You chuckled, your imagination getting the best of you. You felt Ryu-na intertwine her fingers with yours, raising your intertwined hands. "I swear we'll become famous, okay? And then we'll have a huge studio, and you'll have a giant office, and people will love us for breathing, and we will live together in a giant mansion, you'll even be able to compose our songs again if you want." The blonde murmured, her voice slightly muffled by your shoulder. But still, you could hear the dreamy, hopeful tone in her voice, more than a dream, it was a promise of what you would become.

Kyungmi let out a soft sound of approval, the side of her head now resting on yours, repeating Ryu-na's act with her own hand. "Mmh, and the little kids will look up to us—we might even add you as a new member—and you'll be the cool one in the group, and we'll be able to live peacefully after that."

You felt a lump form in your throat, a soft smile escaped you with a breathless laugh, your shoulders relaxing as the three of you let out a contented sigh in unison. The soft sound of the street serving as a kind of lullaby.

"And we'll eat all the food we want... I'm going to spoil you with food until you can't talk anymore." The blonde poked your cheek, ignoring Kyungmi's gaze, snuggling into your arm. "Wouldn't that be nice? I'd hire that ajumma from last time to cook for us every day~"

"Why don't we spoil them with clothes? You're still wearing the same three shirts since we met you, your backpack is crying out for help (Name)." Kyungmi mocked you, nudging her shoulder against yours. The two girls laughed in shared malice.

"Just so you know, when you become famous, I'll get every cent back. And with interests." You tried to keep a straight face, you really did, but seeing the disbelief and real surprise on their faces didn't help much, making you burst out laughing.

Okay, now it was your turn to get emotional.

You tightened your grip on the girls' hands, tilting your head back and sighing contentedly. "Thanks, girls, I mean it," you murmured softly, vulnerability evident in the way your voice faltered slightly. "You are the most special thing I have in this world, I don't know what I would do without you."

Your eyes rested on the soft sunset, the orange, pink and yellow colors creating a beautiful scene, making you forget for a few seconds that you had ever suffered.

"I'm happy to have you," you paused. "We may not be the most recognized group, okay? But that doesn't matter, because we have fun doing all of this, right?" You took a few seconds to look at each of them; they listened to each of your words with their hearts. "Singing, dancing, composing. They're beautiful moments that I don't think I'll ever forget. I thought I'd never be able to fulfill my dream of working in music, but here I am, and even though it wasn't exactly what I thought—I don't think I would change it for anything."

You opened a little bit of your heart to them, even on a silver platter. You didn't like feeling vulnerable, but you wanted to let them know how much you loved and appreciated them—

Sniff.

Huh...?

Sniff, sniff...

You turned to see beside you, a wild Ryu-na trying to calm the tears that were coming out like waterfalls from her eyes, turning her head away even though you had already seen everything.

"Ryu?? Are you okay? Are you—"

"What a baby, crying over a simple emotional chat." 

Kyungmi sneered, as if she herself wasn't wiping away the small tears that were gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Huh??????

"Wait—I—I didn't mean to make you cry!" You squeaked nervously, your hands fanning them to try and dry their tears.

"Stupid (Name), why don't you shut up? Don't you know I hate crying?" Ryu-na gently pushed you, accusing you of her tears while trying to hide them, making you panic even more. 

"I swear I didn't mean to!—"

"Don't listen to her, Manager-nim. She's talking nonsense like always." Kyungmi protested, her chin resting comfortably on your shoulder now.

"BUT—!"

You were right, these girls would be the death of you. 

The cold but stifling breezes of hell blew as aggressively as ever, the old houses trembling before them, their wood broken and rotten forever. Some demons hid within them as if it would protect them from Gwi-ma's horrible and haunting voices, shame and guilt eating away at them from within.

Others, literally born in hell or simply with their brains already mushy enough to feel, roamed around the place, waiting for some break, some slip on the honmoon, to escape and devour delicious and sweet human souls.

And for the first time, the hellish place was filled with a twisted happiness, happiness at the weakness of the honmoon, happiness at the souls falling like shooting stars into the never-ending purple fire that terrorized and ruled this place. The song 'Soda Pop' filling this horrible hell with the first happy melody that many have probably heard in their lives.

Baby, one of the demons chosen by Jinu to carry out his plan against the hunters, bored by the screams and cheers of the other demons, Damn, he dealt with annoying fans in the human realm and now here too? His posture hunched painfully, a can still resting in his grip as he made his way through the horde of his own kind.

He struggled a little, but not too much. Soon, he was further and further away from disaster. The cold but familiar atmosphere made itself felt in the way his bones trembled from a chill that never went away. Ah, finally home.

He entered a small, barely standing hut, the only thing in this place he could call "his own." A collection of various objects he had collected over the centuries welcomed him into his beautiful and treasured place. He began making room for a new addition to the altar with his hands, fumbling and struggling to not break anything.

Being born in hell made it impossible for him to hold on to anything. Unlike some demons, like Jinu, who clung to their human memories with all their heart and claws, some hated them, others treasured them, but they had them, always tormenting them.

Others seemed to have forgotten everything, mere puppets for Gwi-ma, not even able to speak. Most avoided them; they were disgusting to watch as they literally rotted away, but did nothing because their "brains" were too slow to keep up with what was happening to their host. 

And then there were the demons like him, literally born here. It was all they knew, and all they'll ever know, in most cases. It was better than the last two options; you didn't suffer from stupid memories, nor were you a parasite about to drop dead. Their function was literally to do evil, the only thing they knew. They loved doing evil, and he was no slouch. 

But unlike the others, he seemed to cling to the humans he tormented, taking their belongings, a reminder of the terror and horror he made them feel before devouring their souls. It was like a small trophy. Though not all of his belongings were like that.

Some were simple souvenirs from places he'd visited, from times he'd lived, small trinkets he found cute or interesting. Some were broken, even covered in mud and grime before he took the time to fix and clean them. And indeed, those were his favorites, a strange feeling he couldn't quite name blossoming in his empty chest after he fixed them.

And now, the can in his hands, a strange object added to his collection, legendary, even. 

He delicately arranged it, his claws grazing it like a precious gem. He was afraid of tearing it—he didn't want to make that. He would cry if he did.

He took a step back, appreciating his beautiful altar, his hands clasped together, his lips curved into a triumphant smile at the new addition, beautiful, precious, perfect—

"BRO." A booming voice pulled him from his little peace, someone kicked his door open, letting in a now (unfortunately) familiar silhouette.

"Why did you leave? You ran away like a mouse— Ohh, is that a new object I see?" A giant, muscular, and very intimidating silhouette invaded Baby's space, who just rolled his eyes dramatically, still making room for him to see, silently showing off.

"Don't touch anything." Baby growled under his breath, being olympically ignored by the guy who was built like a double refrigerator.

"Bro." Abby snatched it up in his claws, nearly knocking over the things around it because of his built. "I wanna try this. Where'd you get it? Next time I go to the human realm, I want one of these—no, a box." His extremely radiant and proud smile was enough to piss off Baby, his heart stopping as he watched his fingers lightly grip the can.

"That's none of your business," Baby said through gritted teeth, his hands quick enough to retrieve his precious can, a soft 'huh' being let out by Abby, who was confused as shit.

Abby simply shrugged, suddenly posing as if cameras were pointed at him, flexing his biceps even though they were covered by the black fabric. "What do you think of this pose? My babies would look good, right? Perfect, in fact."

"Ugh— GET OUT."

Chapter Text

Sweat, migraine, energy drinks and takeout food.

That was your last days in a nutshell.

They were exhausting days, you didn't even have time to cook— or take care of yourself in general. Too busy polishing the presentation that was just around the corner. Three days, that's all you had left until you will be on TV.

And you were actually freaking out.

"No, you were way behind on the last count, we have to go back to the beginning."

"Wait, let me adjust this part, I don't like it."

"No— you're not in sync, let's start again."

"Oof, why did you stop? Are you okay? Let's continue tomorrow—"

"No, again..."

"Again, please."

"Again."

"..."

Maybe you were pushing them too hard.

Your finger hovered above your phone, waiting to send the message. They needed to practice. There was little time left until they were due to present themselves, and yet there was still a lot to polish. You needed to practice ASAP.

But— you know very well how much you have been pushing and correcting them for all these days, you could notice it in the way that as soon as the music started to play, despite their tired expressions, their bodies reacted instantly to the music, as if the force within them along with the muscle memory were stronger than them. 

And even though you all still had a lot to do, you didn't want to be that kind of manager.

You whined softly, running a hand over your face as you blinked repeatedly, trying to clear your stressed mind. At this moment, it would have been nice if some divine being had enlightened you.

Okay, either you gave the girls a day off or you screwed up on live TV.

The soft sound of your shoe tapping against the floor filled the empty studio, you genuinely didn't know what to do.

...

Ugh, you were going to regret this so much.

So you succumbed, quickly deleted your message, sighed, let yourself breathe for a few seconds, and typed a new one.

managernim (13:56)

guys there is no rehearsal today

but pls come here need to touch up ryu's roots

kyungmi come for moral support

pls

pls

Okay, the work was done. You could cry about your horrible decisions in a few days. 

You really hope not.

The room stank of chemicals and bleach. Today, more than ever, you felt more aware of how small the place was, suffocating in the air itself. The small plastic table was filled with bottles of dye, brushes, and unfinished outfits; the smell permeated every corner with a sour aroma. On the floor, a forgotten electric dryer, Ryu-na puffing, her head covered in aluminum foil. The sound of another snack being opened by Kyungmi. 

Your footsteps echoed, clumsy, desperate, pacing back and forth, a mix of stylist, seamster, and psychiatric patient. Watching a YouTube tutorial "How to Bleach Hair at Home (Easy)" over and over again as a prayer, checking the time again and again to make sure the dye wouldn't fry Ryu-na's hair. 

"Please stay still for a second," you murmured, concentrating, your gloves stained with cream, winding the last strands of Ryu-na's hair around the foil. Every so often, you had to re-anchor the blonde's head.

"It's itchy." Ryu-na grumbled, not wanting to pay much attention to you but obeying in the end.

You muttered something inaudible, took off your gloves, and put the brushes and dyes away. You wiped your sweaty palms on your clothes as you carefully reached for the freshly ironed outfits. You held them up, mentally picturing what the girls would look like. 

In one corner, Kyungmi sat cross-legged, not looking much calmer than you. Around her lay empty packages of all kinds of snacks, which she devoured in seconds out of anxiety. As your gazes met, she unconsciously composed herself, but her expression of clear stress did not falter.

You approached with hurried steps, still holding the suit high in your hand, turning it over in your hand, searching for any details you could fix. "Hey, Kyung, when you two tried this on, wasn't there anything wrong? no tears on the fabric or something?" You asked, not really paying attention to her anxious body language, your mind racing through a list of things you needed to finish. At least before the seamstress quit, she left you with a well-done job that (with lots of tutorials) you could maybe finish and make it look decent.

"Indeed," Kyungmi stood up, quickly pressing herself beside you, her hands searching for something in the fabric. "When Ryu-na and I practiced the choreo on this, the skirt ripped in... Here! Look." Turning the skirt inside out, you saw it, the seam ripped, and you hissed softly, a grimace adorning your expression. 

"Shit." You cursed under your breath, your hands working quickly, already opening the box of threads, threading a needle.

Kyungmi stood where you left her, gently scratching her arm, discomfort and uncertainty seeping like waterfalls from her pores. "Couldn't we really afford a salon? It would make things so much easier." 

You deflated like a burst balloon. She was right, that would have made things a lot easier for you, but what could you do at this point? You sighed tiredly, rolling your shoulders, trying to ease the tension in them. Soft pops came from your exhausted bones. "You know how things are, I would have paid the most expensive salon in all of Korea for you, but I can't—besides, who's going to treat you with as much care as I do?" You tried to clear the looming tension that seemed to be starting to build. A soft laugh from you cut through the silence. Your fingers worked, trying to stitch the skirt properly. 

"Mhm..." Kyungmi hummed softly at your response, not entirely convinced or relieved by your words, her nails digging into her arm, leaving small crescent moons on her skin. She looked at the outfits for the umpteenth time that day. They were simple, hand-tufted outfits. Hand-glued sequins, hastily patched hems. Yes, they were pretty, but nothing sparkled too much, nothing screamed "star!".

"I like them," Ryu-na mumbled, looking at the outfits motionless, as if her voice served to distract her from the heat that was burning her roots.

Ryu-na turned slowly in the swivel chair, her head tilted as she nibbled at the loose thread of her robe as if it were the most interesting thing in the world while scrolling on her phone absentmindedly. Silence once again engulfed the room, the only sound the faint thread of the needle through the fabric.

'Ack!' You cried softly as you did the final stitching, the needle pricking your finger, a drop of blood oozing out of it. 

Ryu-na called your name excitedly, you turned your head, your finger in your mouth as you sucked the blood. 

"Look! Don't you want to do something like that to me? We can try it." She showed you her phone, a hairstyle with cyan streaks, Ohh, bold, you like it.

"Don't you think that tone is going to be a little too...shrill on you?" Kyungmi interrupted, tilting her head and speaking with curiosity and something else you didn't know what it was.

Ryu-na gave her a confident smile, as if she'd expected something like that to be said to her. "Nah, shrill and loud is what I've always been. People want something that stands out, so why not go a little out of the ordinary?"

"Yes, stand out. You're going to come across as over-the-top." Kyungmi let out a low, dry chuckle, a condescending tone you weren't used to hearing from her.

Ryu-na tilted her head, a playful sigh escaping her, as she rested her chin on her hand. "Hm, I'll eat the stage. Attention is attention." 

"Not all attention is good."

"Oh? Does it bother you that I get attention or that people notice I exist?

You watched from silence, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion with each jibe thrown. It was all like a small snowball that quickly turned into an avalanche. And before things could really get ugly, you reached for a bottle of water. Your hands slid down the blonde's shoulder, pulling her back into her seat. "Hey, hey, let's calm down a bit." You paused for a few seconds, Ryu-na looked up, and you just gave her a shy smile. "...What do you think if we save that idea for a new era? That way we can match with a whole aesthetic."

You turned to Kyungmi, who instantly melted into place, her shoulders slumping and all anger and bitterness dissipating, not even able to meet your gaze in nervousness, afraid that you'd scold her. Her nails digging into her arm. "I—"

"Kyungmi." Your hands found her wrists, gently prying them apart and placing the water bottle between them, tightening your hands on her grip. "Are you okay? I see that you're nervous. If you want, we can go away for a little if you need time alone—"

"No!" She whimpered, answering perhaps too quickly. Her grip tightened painfully on the bottle. "It's just that I— just..." She sighed, her breath coming in short gasps. She looked away, looking even embarrassed. "It's just that, these days I've been very— Ugh! You know—"

"Stressed? Anxious? Nervous? Panicked?"

"All of them..."

You laughed softly, having already sensed it. Your hands found her shoulders, which tensed at first, but then calmed under your grip. "Kyung, it's normal to feel this way, okay? I think we've all been on the verge of panic, too." You said in a calm, warm tone. "I'm sure we're all nervous and excited about the new song—and that's okay! But don't let that blind you, okay? Breathe, sit down for a while, allow yourself to rest." You gently guided Kyungmi to sit, she still couldn't look at you, but you didn't push her too hard.

"It's your day off, enjoy it! Go out to eat, walk in the park, or maybe just lie down and do nothing for the rest of the day." You hummed happily, lightly stroking Kyungmi's long hair, moving on to Ryu-na, who already seemed fed up with life and the damn dye.

You pulled the blonde's chair, causing her to stand up and follow you. You slowly removed the foil. And when you finally reached the sink, you began rinsing off the mixture, the yellowish water running down.

"You know?" You began, a playful tone in your voice. "When I was a teenager, My friend Seojun and I once tried to dye his hair. It was supposed to be pink, but somehow it ended up swamp green— We were experts at failed homemade dyes."

"...That explains a lot."

"Excuse me? What are you implying?" You narrowed your eyes, preparing the toner. Ryu-na began to gently dry her hair, her wet hair dripping onto the floor.

She just sneered, not very forcefully. The burning sensation on her scalp had passed, now just feeling cool. She let you do your work, carefully spreading the slightly violet cream through her locks.

"She just means your aura is suspicious." Kyungmi answered for her. You weren't expecting that answer, so you laughed genuinely, being followed by them.

For a moment, the atmosphere in the studio returned to its former warmth, the heaviness fading away amidst their small giggles, everything seeming back to normal. 

You wrapped the strands around the foil again with patient care. And even though no one said anything out loud, you all felt safe and calm again, as if nothing had happened, a strangely homey and comforting touch in the air.

"You're almost ready— you know you have to wait about—uh, 20 minutes?" You hesitated slightly, but shook your head, you had things to do. 

Ryu-na nodded, and you smiled back. You started packing your things into your backpack. "Hey, Kyung, are you sure you don't want me to touch anything up on your hair? I can curl it if you want," you offered without looking at her, almost trembling when you saw the time. 

"No, thank you." She replied softly, playing with her own hair until she noticed how rushed you looked. "Where are you going or what? Why are you in such a hurry?"

"I need to work."

"Huh."

"HUHH???"

"Isn't this supposed to be our day off? You said so yourself!" Ryu-na protested, pointing at you accusingly.

"Yeah, it's your day off, not mine."

You heard small complaints, but you paid them no attention, putting on your backpack and straightening the wrinkles in your clothes. 

"When I said I sold my soul, I wasn't joking." You scratched the back of your neck gently, smiling awkwardly. "Now I have to do this favors until who knows when—they need cleaning staff on backstage for a variety show, and it's not like I can say no."

"What—but, can't they even put you on support staff or something?" The black-haired girl tilted her head, her eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't know," you shrugged. "All I know is that if I don't start going now, they're going to disappear me from the country, I swear—"

"But—"

"Nothing, I'm not going to listen to anything. Take care, girls." You said a quick goodbye, and in the blink of an eye, you were gone.

They stared at the place where you were a few seconds ago, blinking.

Putting on the staff uniform they had provided you with, adjusting the cleaning gloves that reached your elbows. Opening a new mask so that dust and strong chemicals do not enter your lungs, carefully putting it on. 

You exhaled softly, it was time to make that damn TV appearance count. 

You cleaned the floors like a maniac, watching as the other staff members were just as mortified as you. Soon the public would be arriving, and everything had to be completely spotless and tidy. You bumped into other people many times, but you were both stressed enough about getting everything done on time to care about a little push.

You carried the chairs they'd requested onto the stage, and you could already hear someone else testing the microphones for the hosts and idols. What were they called? Salsa Boys? Sauna Boys? Ugh—it's not like you cared that much.

"We start in 5! Get ready!" Okay, and this was your call to go.

Fixing the chairs as quickly as your hands could, sweating like you're in hell, hearing multiple footsteps approaching— You technically flied away through the door with your broom and garbage bags in hand. You could already hear the chaos of people entering the room.

You sighed, almost out of breath, lowering your mask for a few seconds, letting the fresh, floral-scented air enter your lungs, and you exhaled tiredly. Hearing applause and slightly hushed screams through the walls, damn, it seems these idols are very popular despite the fact that—you've never heard of them? Are they new? Anyway, Huntrix to the death.

"Saja! Saja! Saja! Saja!"

The chorus of people screamed loudly, with an emotion and devotion that only fans were capable of achieving. You weren't a big fan of this type of variety show, but if Huntrix were the one here—oh boy, you'd be howling and screaming like crazy to see your idols do ridiculous things. 

Well, that was a lot of reflection, back to work.

You cleaned up what you could backstage, passing things around or running small errands for the audio and recording staff. Silent orders that, as you'd said before, you couldn't refuse. Although this was much better than people yelling at you until you did something. 

And that was technically all you did for that whole time, for a moment, they sent you to clean the temporary dressing room the idols had used and Oh my god— how is it possible for a person to drink so many Milkis and Protein Drinks? You didn't believe it was real, and in any case, that person would have to have superhuman powers to handle so much sugar without literally dying.

They were about to finish the broadcast, so you could start getting things ready for another horde of cleanup in the soon-to-be-empty place. Oh god, you were going to suffer. 

You went near the exit, looking for the things that you and your temporary coworkers would soon need to clean the whole place—

A loud bang nearly knocked over the countless containers of chemicals you wouldn't want to mix together. You jumped in shock, your head whipping towards the sound like a startled animal— a group of 5 grown ass men in mostly pink clothing running towards the exit, pushing you aside in the process.

Wait, you recognize that stupid baby face, was that—

You didn't even have time to think, another group of thunderous footsteps following in their wake, three figures emerged from the door, searching for the now forgotten group— wait, WAS THAT HUNTRIX??? You stood there dumbfounded, pointing weakly at the door where the idols had come out. Their faces lit up with a certain awareness, but before you could continue admiring them, they shot out the door.

You stood still, your still-gloved hands gripping the table beside you, Okay, what the fuck?

Your mind went back to the memory of a few seconds ago, the three girls looked furious, their makeup heavy and straight out of a metal band, clothes that looked like battle-ready, leather, high boots ready to step on you in your place.

You didn't know Huntrix would come here...

If you had known, you would have brought Kyungmi and Ryu-na ready to sign all the merch you guys owned.

You sighed dreamily, taking a few more seconds to appreciate the memory, completely ignoring how strange it all was. Besides, what was the Milkis guy doing here?

The light in the room began to flicker and fail, interrupting your fantasies. You quickly pulled yourself together, scanning the room and seeing how everything seemed to be about to go out. Maybe a short circuit?

You obviously didn't notice the hideous and grotesque figure that was following you, ready to steal your beautiful and delicious soul.

You stopped in your tracks without your own will, as if a force was forcing you to stay still, the broom in your hand fell to the floor dryly, your eyelids feeling heavy. 

You felt an inexplicable coldness spread throughout your body, seeping into your bones, beads of sweat running like waterfalls down your face, your knees feeling weak, about to give way, and an increasingly strong pain settling in your chest, almost as if it were being opened and excavated to go straight to your heart. A horrendous beeping sound ripped straight through your eardrums, and you felt a strange and not at all pleasant tingling in your limbs, like insects crawling and biting under your skin.

"I...Want to...Sleep..."

Your eyes closed against your will, and you felt yourself falling. 

Falling.

And falling.

And falling more into the void.

The sound of flesh being cut and small grunts of frustration could be heard.

She shook your body, eyes scattered, lost, mouth half open and the most superficial beat of your heart, as if you made one more effort it would stop beating forever and you would enter a peaceful and endless sleep.

"Fuck," Mira cursed, shaking you a little harder, if she had arrived later, another soul would have been lost, her eyes trying to focus on you and not on the numerous inert bodies that adorned the place like some kind of twisted holiday. "Hey, wake up."

Your body began to tremble slightly, your temperature rising dangerously, pupils dilated as you slowly regained consciousness, your head heavy, your existence aching. Everything ached.

You let out a small whimper of pain, and that was enough to relieve Mira, you were okay—well, no, but you were alive, and that was at least something.

"Stay here."

"Don't move—"

Her words were drowned out by the fog now filling your mind. Mira guided you to the floor, where she sat you down and pressed her hand against your face, trying to reason with your mush of a brain.

"Seriously, I will return, but don't move, I'll beat you up if you do."

...

What...?

Your head fell to the side with its own weight, the soft touch had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, you touched your cheek confused, almost drugged, you swore you still felt her touch even though a good 10 minutes had passed since she left you there. Your soul, upon returning to your body, doesn't quite fit. It feels as if it's been ripped out and sewn back together, leaving you with a feeling of dislocation in every breath, weak and shallow but agitated.

Weakly you pushed up of the floor, confused, lost, you looked at your hands, a blur of colors, dizzy, you staggered towards the door.

Where were you?

Who were you?

What were you doing here?

Your arms barely opened the door, the cold wind hitting your face, a contrast to your sweaty and boiling face, suffocated by the infernal heat that only you felt.

Your eyes are open, but seeing nothing, as if you were still trapped in a trance. Your steps are erratic, dragging, you stagger out of the place, your feet barely obeying you, as if they didn't belong to you. The ground beneath your feet stretches and shrinks, undulating, as if you were walking on water.

You hug yourself, your body wracked by constant shivers, even though you were literally burning inside, almost as if you were inside a furnace at maximum capacity, your blood boiling. And yet, your skin is cold and clammy. Every step you took is torture, the sound piercing your skull, the bells ringing, announcing your already sensed death.

Your hand weakly reaches for your chest, your heart beating out of time, like a broken metronome. As if someone had ripped it out and put it back on without caring to fit it properly. Your fingers clench in the fabric. Everything is in chaos, your mind, your heart, your breathing.

You're going to die, right?

You stagger again, ready to take another step, wherever the angel of death takes you.

A firm, but gentle grip on your wrist prevents you from taking another step, you turn your head slowly, to see Mira again, behind her Rumi and Zoey, whom you didn't recognize at that moment. "What are you even doing? Huh?"

"Ow— Poor baby! How did they even end up in this?" Zoey almost cried, her beautiful fan, here, half-dying, all thanks to that stupid group of boys!— Oh man, they were so dead now. She cooed at you, cupping her hands around your hot cheeks.

Your lost eyes faintly met her gaze, and with what little consciousness you had left, you laughed softly. 

Zoey screamed.

"Are they...okay?" Rumi asked cautiously, slowly approaching to examine your condition more closely. She raised her hand, but didn't dare touch you. Right now, you looked like some kind of human rag doll.

"Do you think they're okay?" The pink-haired girl grabbed your face, tightening her grip on your jaw and turning it towards Rumi and Zoey. Her expression deadpanned. Uh, while you... You laughed softly with what little mind you had left.

"Well..."

"They look alive, like they're drugged and drunk—but alive."

Mira grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you around, looking for any other type of injury besides the obvious mental damage you had.

"OH LOOK— This might help!" Zoey beamed excitedly, pulling out of nowhere a tonic she had stashed away who knows where, she skipped over to you, opening it and guiding it to your lips.

"Are you actually serious."

"Zoey... I don't think that would work—besides, that's a voice tonic—what good would that do in a possible demonic possession?!—"

Zoey paid no attention to what her friends told her, already pushing your chin to close your mouth slightly, the grape-flavored liquid running down your throat.

"What if we...exorcise them?" Rumi said, crossing her arms as she inspected your weak form.

"I promise to soak them in holy water if the tonic don't work," Zoey stated, taking a step back, trying to see if there's any improvement in you.

"I think— I think they just need to rest. If that doesn't work, then we'll see what we can do." Mira murmured strangely softly, her voice uncharacteristically soft and very low. She brushed away the small strands of hair that were sticking to your forehead and mouth.

She blew soft air in your face, trying to cool you down at least a little.

You barely raised your head, your eyes glassy and slightly lost, and you nodded weakly, your lip trembling. Suddenly, you doubled over, your stomach clenching violently and—

blEHH—

"Huh?"—" Was all she managed to say.

Poor Mira didn't even have time to move away, only enough time to notice and watch you vomit a viscous, bubbling jet of black liquid straight at her. The huntress remained completely still, clenching her jaw and breathing through her nose to keep her stomach from turning. The literally cursed liquid sizzled on the skin like boiling tar.

"Oh god—"

Mira squeezed her eyes shut, her head turning slightly to avoid dying right there. She took a deep breath, muttering it like a mantra. "Ew— It's...fine...You can— Eugh— Get it all out."

The other two also stood dumbfounded, watching the disgusting scene unfold. Zoey's hand flew to her mouth, half in surprise and half to stop herself from laughing. Rumi tilted her head, her mind a mess of disgust, confusion, and...fascination?

You continued to expel that black energy in endless gag reflexes, as if your body were a broken pipe. Each spasm was accompanied by a viscous sound that echoed in the silent streets.

The other two, unable to remain serious, began to whisper under their breath, starting with Zoey.

"You know what this reminds me of—? You know those mothers who would rather have their kids throw up in their hands than on the carpet? Okay! I feel this is like that—"

"Zoey, please stop."

"Sorry!"

"I don't think Mira's going to be able to sleep at night anymore."

Mira resigned herself to looking at you, but her hands remained still on your shoulders, patting you lightly. And before they could continue mocking her, a glance was all it took to silence them.

When you finally let it all out of—that—and collapsed exhausted against Mira's chest, she just sighed deeply, resigned, the dark substance dripping from her clothes. "Oh, how great, now I smell like a demon. Resentment, guilt, and rotten fish." She remarked with clear sarcasm.

"Remind me to burn all these clothes." The pink-haired girl mocked lightly, a small smile tugging at her lips despite everything, pulling you along with her.

"Hey, wait, are they coming with us?" Zoey hurried to Mira's side, who was walking surprisingly fast despite having your weight against her.

"Well, obviously, duh."

"I don't think it would be a good idea to leave them alone after—well, that." Rumi tried her best, really, not to laugh, but she couldn't; the ridiculousness of the situation didn't help. A soft laugh escaped her before she covered it with her hand.

"Eugh—"

"Mira— No!"

Chapter Text

Your awakening was deceptively sweet.

A warm blanket, as soft as a cloud, comforting like the embrace of a friend you hadn't seen in years. It enveloped you sweetly, the soft scent of lavender seducing you and inviting you to continue your peaceful sleep, the weight of the blanket pressing you against the soft mattress. And for a moment, you let yourself go, pressing yourself even further into the pillow, snuggling even closer, like a contented cat.

How warm...

How soft...

​​​How...strange?

The scent wasn't yours, the texture wasn't yours either. Your sheets had never been so soft in your life, and you had never been so comfortable on a mattress. Yours was cheap, sinking in from worn-out springs, the cold passing through the walls of your apartment.

Your brow furrowed, you reached out, fumbling for your phone, still not daring to open your eyes.

It wasn't there.

This was a stolen luxury, a paradise you didn't belong to.

You sat bolt upright, your eyes fluttering open, your skin feeling clammy, as if you'd been sweating for hours, your hair sticking to your forehead, dripping wet. You felt dizzy, lost. Where were you?

Okay, so either you'd booked an extremely expensive room at some luxury hotel that you'd never get out of debt for, or you'd been kidnapped.

You pray with all your faith that it won't be the second.

Your bare feet touched the floor, a disturbingly soft, new rug, blindly feeling the nightstand, still searching for your phone, nothing. You patted the pillows, the bed, even the floor. Still nothing. You opened drawers, empty, nothing of your clothes, nothing of yours.

Sweat ran down your forehead. 

Your heart pounded in your chest. Sitting up, you tripped on the carpet and staggered, your eyes darting around the room like a frightened animal. The curtains were made of very expensive silk. Giant windows, soft nightlights passing through them, authentic wooden floors with a rich brown color, and a lamp that looked more like a work of art than anything else.

Your throat cleared, and you slowly made your way to the window, already planning your escape of this damn hotel with debts for life. Gently pushing open the curtains, opening the window—or at least trying to. It was tightly closed, as if someone had locked it, a beautiful balcony in view, and—pressing yourself against the glass, all you could find was the view of lights, streets and tiny cars, the entire city from a ridiculously high altitude. The sensation of height churned and tightened your stomach. This wasn't a hotel, or any building, it was a tower, a fucking tower.

There was no escape, unless you wanted to jump and get smashed 30 floors down. You can't jump from this height, You can't jump, the thought made you stagger back, falling backward and start feeling your heart tiny, panic sticking to your skin.

Your hands went straight to your knees, hugging them tightly, trying to find some kind of comfort. You broke out in a cold sweat, a violent chill attacking your spine. Who had brought you there? What did they want? Were you going to die?

The fever, the paranoia, the confusion, and now—a raging headache made you feel caged, trapped, and terrified.

The thought was instant, you had been kidnapped, you were trapped.

The place looked like something out of a magazine catalog, expensive decorations, and the entire space was easily larger than most of your apartment. Your eyes nervously darted every detail, searching for something, anything, to defend yourself if your captors dare come here. Your gaze fell on the lamp again, golden details you didn't dare admire, your hands closing in it tightly, heavy, solid, perfect.

With clumsy steps, you made your way to the door, your hand trembling on the handle, and with a soft click, it opened. What? You stepped back slightly as the door opened with a barely audible creak. Your breath hitched. Who would be stupid enough to leave their hostage with the door open? This was a plan, wasn't it? It was a trap; you were going to die.

Your jaw clenched, trying to silence the scared whimpering that threatened to escape your sore throat.

You quietly left out of the room scared shitless. The lights were off, the hallway lit only by dim, warm lights coming from the other room, in your head, this was a horrible scene from a horror movie.

You slipped down the hall, head pounding, adrenaline pumping, and sweaty hands clenching tightly around the lamp as a sword as your only defense. Your knees felt weak, ready to give away, but you didn't care. Forcing yourself to creep forward, you pressed forward through the muffled voices, stifled laughter, and the sound of a television from the other room that tormented you.

The air stifled you, your instincts screaming desperately at you. The noise outside drowned out the sound of your footsteps, but it didn't stop your legs from shaking. Your jaw clamped shut, painfully, like a bear trap. Your hands tightly clenched in the lamp, ready to strike. Allowing yourself to be guided by the muffled voices that led you toward the gigantic main hall.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, not wanting your labored breathing to betray you. The sight was ridiculously mundane: two figures huddled together and wrapped in blankets on a large sofa, a horror movie playing on the television, the dim, blue light illuminating their almost defeated faces, on the verge of unconsciousness.

It was obvious they weren't even paying attention to the movie, one was nodding off, half asleep, while the other was munching on popcorn in slow motion.

Your body froze for a few seconds, your eyes twitching, you groped your way through the night, holding the lamp high even though you felt fatigue creeping in and fear weakening you. Terror clouding your already dizzy and aching mind. You crept forward like a shadow, your brain shutting down right there, letting your instincts rule.

Your muscles flexed and tensed, okay, you were sure that despite the time— you still had plenty of strength from all the time lifting heavy things in the field, your stance must not have weakened that much, you had faith that you could at least knock someone unconscious.

Sweating cold, you sneaked up behind them, your shadow falling on the two girls from the light of the television, lengthening your shadow intimidatingly, like someone who was ready to crush skulls. 

"G-grhhh..."

A frightened growl gave you away, part confusion and part fear, your nerves getting the better of you.

The two of them turned around in unison, just a second was enough, the television illuminated your pale, haggard face—your hair was a mess, breathing heavily and trembling, your eyes bloodshot and holding a lamp high. That scene, in the middle of the dark room, set off all the alarm bells in their heads.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The two of them let out the sharpest screams that could have been a knife piercing flesh, and it echoed in your eardrums, straight out of a cheap horror movie, jumping as if they'd seen a ghost, popcorn being thrown through the air. The two girls hugged each other, frightened while screaming in a really and very painful high-pitch tone.

You visibly tensed, your teeth grinding and your pupils dilating, a trembling betraying all your courage. You trembled aggressively, exhaling fearfully, unable to hold back your panic any longer as you too began to scream in confusion and terror.

Mira narrowed her eyes, her head snapping toward the sound. The tray of snacks and food was forgotten, her full attention now focused on the screams. She'd think a jumpscare had scared Rumi and Zoey, but the sound of another unfamiliar voice also screaming made her frown.

"I TOLD YOU WE SHOULD EXORCISE THEM!"

"WE'RE GOING TO DIE!!!!"

"AHHHH???!?!?!?"

The three of you screamed in a strange, off-key symphony of cries, yours coming from deep within you. The girls' screams slowly fell silent as they saw your trembling, scared form, you screaming echoing throughout the apartment.

"I SWEAR WE ARE NOT KIDNAPPERS!!!!"

"Just let us!—"

Without missing a beat, you lunged at the lamp, threatening them with it, your breathing ragged and loud, like that of a rabid animal. "Where am I?! Tell me! What am I doing here?! Y-You kidnapped me, right?!" You barely managed to stammer, exasperatedly moving the trembling lamp, threatening each of them, searching for answers. Too scared to notice the presence of someone behind you. 

"Back o-off!—"

"What. Are. You. Doing."

Your body acted without much thought, the lamp swinging towards whatever was behind you, a war cry— Your eyes closed tightly, waiting to hit something.

Mira just dodged you without much trouble, your blow being quite adorable for a demon hunter like her. Although, if she weren't, she'd probably be on the ground by now. 

She stood here, unfazed.

You opened your eyes wide as you felt no impact, your gaze interlocking with that of a tall and intimidating figure (not that intimidating, she was literally using a teddy bear sweater, it was all in your head.)

You raised the lamp again, letting out a pathetic groan as you did so, preparing for another attack. It never even came to fruition; a gentle but firm grip on your wrist. It was the same figure, her eyes piercing your soul. Another growl escaped you, quickly silenced at the sight of her other hand.

A knife.

A fucking knife.

A very shiny and sharp knife.

All your bravado disappeared in a second.

You screamed.

The knife flashed in the TV light, and your body froze. Your breath caught in your throat.

"Are you... are you going to kill me?!" you backed off, on the verge of hyperventilating, the lamp trembling in your hands.

Your grip on the lamp faltered, now you felt like the object was too heavy, everything was heavy— All the courage the adrenaline had given you disappeared like dust. You whimpered, your lip trembling. Your legs finally gave out, causing you to fall like a lifeless doll to the cold floor. Your hands shook and your vision blurred. 

And that's how fast you folded.

Too busy whining and begging for your life to notice the confused but amused look Mira gave you.

Rumi was the first to peek out, her long purple hair serving as like a protective curtain. She thought you were genuinely going to knock someone out. Maybe it was the movie's paranoia, just maybe.

Zoey didn't last long without following Rumi, her hands now with a bowl of popcorn, watching the scene unfold.

You could barely manage to babble incoherently, your clumsy mouth betraying you once again. The words jumbled together and repeated like a broken radio, as if your tongue had been tied. With each word you blurted out, you couldn't help but feel more fear and dread. Oh, you were so fucking dead. Maybe you should cry? to bring some compassion to your captors? Oh wait, you were already doing that.

Mira crouched down, tilting her head slightly, seeing how your figure resembled a stray puppy, squealing for help. The slightest, most mischievous smile graced her lips. She crouched down—earning another squeal from you. Her elbows on her knees, her gaze amused, watching you.

"Pleasedon'tkillmeIknowI'mnotthebestpersonbutIhavealottolivefor!!!althoughifyouwantyoucanleavemehereI'llnevermoveortrytoescapeagainjustdon'tkillmepleasepleaseplea—"

A soft metallic clang interrupted your thoughts, your eyes snapping open, the knife on the floor.

Her fingers reached your jaw, lifting your gaze, which tightened at the slightest touch, her smile spread, waiting for something, waiting for you—for you to recognize, at some point you had to. 

And as if it were divine intervention, a loud ding was heard in your head, the gears and springs of your mind starting to work again. The curtain of smoke and feverish confusion slowly dissipated. You recognized the face in front of you, perhaps too well. Mira.

It was then, when the television flickered, illuminating the faces of the three girls—that you were finally able to understand. You froze, still holding the lamp. Your heart maked 12 backflips and went through 7 marathons—it was all too much: the panic from the tower, the exhaustion you carried like chains from the endless rehearsals and arrangements you had to make, and now, as if the universe were mocking you. The terrible recognition. You knew who they were, how could you not?

You blinked, looking up, recognition replacing the terror in your eyes. It was Rumi and Zoey. You blinked again, the full weight of your shoulders draining like water. And like some kind of plush toy, you hugged the lamp. Because all around you, half asleep, wrapped in blankets and sleepiness, were your idols, Huntrix. The very girls you'd supported like a total fan. 

Your mouth opened, then closed, your brain thinking it would be a good idea to go into maintenance—completely blank. Your voice, just as thin as a thread, murmured, "I... It can't— Uh...?" Confusion fell on you like a bucket of cold water, confused between terror and astonishment.

You stared, like really stared, embarrassment rising on your cheeks like a stupid reminder, you were still scared, obviously—but you were literally standing in front of stars—there had to be another explanation, right? Right????

Her eyes studied you closely, eyes you swore you'd never see up close in a million years. You couldn't tell if your cheeks were boiling with embarrassment or something else. She carefully let go of you, Mira stood back up, a sneer coming out of her without realizing it. Rumi followed, leaning on her arms, looking at you with a softness you didn't understand. While Zoey just drowned herself in popcorn.

Were you trapped in some kind of cursed webtoon? A dream? A nightmare? What???

Your voice came out in a hiccup.

"Am I delirious...? I'm dead, am I...?"

What is your eagerness with death??? Why did you have to include that topic in everything???????

You collapsed with a small sound against the back of the sofa, a mixture of a sob and a laugh, and you were left shaking as if your bones had turned to jelly.

"Are you done trying to kill us?" The pink-haired girl snorted, pulling you up, your breath stopped, thiswasn'trealthiswasn'treal—

"We found you drunk in the streets, don't you remember?" Zoey hummed, the sweet lie slipping out so naturally that it made you doubt your own memories. She wrapped herself back in the blanket as if nothing had happened, letting a small silence engulf them. A complicity you didn't understand filled the air.

The blurry memories seemed to fade away every time you tried to reach them, a strange fog covering your mind— but the feeling was still there, the emptiness in your chest, a hot, viscous liquid bubbling in the back of your throat, the weakness in your knees and your memories seeming to be erased as if they were nothing— a shiver ran down your spine— It had to be a strange nightmare, a delirium or something.

Zoey's words worked as a kind of bandage, The explanation made the missing pieces of your memories fall together somehow, even if it didn't quite fit with what your mind was telling you. Your brow furrowed slightly, your head nodding weakly. Surely you'd gotten drunk off your ass and that's why you didn't remember anything, even when you don't even remember leaving the backstage— but, how could you distrust your idols? It was obvious they were telling the truth. Right?

You wouldn't have realized you were sinking into the couch if it weren't for the soft, warm blanket Rumi wrapped around up to your neck, her hands practical and warm, almost making you forget the whole moment. She lay down beside you, unfazed, beautiful—you have the honor of seeing Rumi like this, no merch or VIP ticket could compare to it. "You were about to faint, singing so loud and trying to throw yourself at the pigeons—typical post-soju, huh?" 

"You threw up on me."

"What?"

"Hmm." "You smelled awful." A chorus of approval filled your ears, making what you feared most come true.

"WHAT?"

The blush rose to your ears, you were this little bit about to lose your madness—how is it possible to fulfill your dream and your worst nightmare at the same time?—besides, you couldn't even continue enjoying the moment, the memories of your responsibilities breaking the little bubble you were in.

"Where—Where's my phone?" You babbled, patting the couch as if it were even worth it searching here, you knew it wasn't, but you wanted to distract yourself from this whole situation "you threw up on your idol, please kill yourself and don't show up again".

"Stay still." And out of nowhere, you felt a cup placed in your hands as you were gently pushed back onto the couch. The herbal tea seemed to invite you to stay, to pretend a little longer. When even did Mira make it? 

"Don't worry." Rumi said calmly, silencing you before you could even say anything. Brushing a short, damp strand of hair away from your forehead. "Stay and rest—something might happen to you if you go out with hangover." Yes, because telling you that you almost died and your soul was almost stolen wasn't right.

You ran a hand over your face, feeling like a big, stupid ball of nerves and humiliation, the grip on the cup tightened, not knowing whether to run away or jump out of a window.

Okay, if you were going to play pretend, you would. 

"Say ahh." You heard Zoey before a small samgak kimbap hit your lips, almost demanding you open your mouth. 

No, forget it, this is too much, you're not playing this!

"Um... I can..." You protested weakly, trying to grab the food with your free hand. Obviously, that didn't happen. Zoey tried again, pressing the damn rice triangle onto your lips like you couldn't eat it yourself. Seriously? Your body stiffened, rigid, between grateful and embarrassed.

It was funny, really, not so long ago you thought you were doomed, kidnapped by who knows who in a damn tower— and now 3 beautiful idols, whom you rooted for— were here, taking care of you like a little kid, as if you were theirs.

"Can you... can you stop treating me like I'm a child?" you tried to reason, though the tremble in your voice betrayed how fragile it felt. You let the vapor of the liquid enter your lungs, taking small sips to try to distract yourself a little.

"No." the three of them answered at the same time, eliciting a low laugh that made you blush even more. You used the blanket as your only protection. You wanted to hide, and get away from these—such sweet girls!

You weren't going to win this fight. 

You reluctantly let the small food enter your mouth—instantly, you received a round of applause, as if you were a toddler who after refusing to eat for an hour had finally accepted something. Oh my god.

...Hey, this wasn't so bad.

The soft cushions and plush sofa made you accept this situation a little more, and you squirmed a little before melting into the expensive softness. If you were going to be pampered by Huntrix, then you'd do it right! You'd make sure to enjoy this expensive paradise as much as possible, maybe even take advantage of it a little. You drank all the remaining tea in one gulp, giving yourself the courage you needed.

"canyousigntheblanketpleaseplease."

"Hm?" "What was that?"

Ahem.

"Could you...sign the blanket for me, please?" you repeated weakly, as if they were the highest nobility at a banquet and you were just a poor, terminally ill peasant begging for a few crumbs before falling onto your deathbed. 

Obviously you were going to ask for an autograph. In fact, you waited too long before asking for it. You'd make sure to show it off and frame it so everyone who enters your apartment knows Huntrix signed a blanket for you.

Zoey almost immediately pulled a black marker out of nowhere. Was it a magic trick? You suppose? It must be normal for idols to always have a marker on them, always.

"Obviously!" She gently nudged you, using your back as a support. You felt the soft tap and swipe of the marker against your back. She signed with an exaggerated, playful gesture. "Zoey ♡," a few lines underlining her name. You felt the weight of the couch shift, Rumi groping her way towards you. It was gentler, and just her touch made you feel like you were in heaven. Swift and elegant, like black ink on parchment, You are sure that at least at some point in her life she practiced traditional calligraphy. — Rumi threw the marker to Mira who caught it without looking. Grumbling about the cap, tearing it off with her mouth. She tilted her head, straightening you along the way, her signature the one that felt the most rebellious and messy. Loud, making sure her presence and essence were felt in it.

Cursed and blessed be the one who gave you soju, this would never have happened to you if you hadn't gotten drunk.

Yeah, drunk.

A silly, excited giggle escaped you, a giggle that could only come from a fan. You'd already took off the blanket long ago, admiring the three beautiful signatures that adorned it. You felt your lips tremble and your cheeks heat with emotion. Your fingers caressed and lovingly followed the lines. It wasn't the first time you'd had something signed by them, but this felt more personal, more intimate. You hoped they'd remember you, even if it was under the title "the fan we found drunk and threw up on Mira." Because you'd have the honor of being acknowledged by them, one way or another.

"Thank you."

And for the first time in weeks, you sounded confident in what you were saying, no stuttering or answers that didn't quite convince you. No. You were grateful, very grateful, and you wanted to let it be known.

You brought the blanket up to your face, smelling its soft scent, wanting to memorize the feeling of excitement and warmth—your eyes softly shone with gratitude and admiration, soft, quiet giggles escaping your mouth as you turned around. "Really, thank you so much."

Oh god, you were cute cute.

 

Could you be mesmerized by a fan?

Forced laughter and coughing interrupted your brief moment, your admiration turning to confusion, the girls cleared her throats and fanned themselves. It reminds you so much of what happened a few days ago when you knocked over Zoey's phone.

Did you make them uncomfortable?

You laughed weakly, a soft apology from you as you wrapped yourself back in the sacred blanket, getting comfortable again, all shame gone. You were friends with Huntrix, take that, fans.

A peaceful silence filled the room, the soft murmur of the long-forgotten movie playing in front of you echoing in your ears, a gentle humming that somehow served as a lullaby. The dim lights didn't help much. Everything was perfectly arranged for you to sleep like a baby—and you didn't fight it. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you closed them, clinging to the blanket just as a child would. And you forgot, letting the memories slip away, letting the sweet lie soak into your mind as the truth, believing that this was just a lucky, funny coincidence. Ignoring any instincts and feelings your subconscious had.

Your grip faltered, and your breathing calmed, the tiredness and exhaustion that didn't come from work taking over your body and drinking it in. 

The smiles and relaxed figures of the hunters disappeared like pulling a thread, their expressions hardening and shoulders tensing, looking at your sleeping form closely, trying to see a change, a pain, a wound, anything that wasn't normal, anything that wasn't human.

"That tiredness isn't normal," Rumi whispered, breaking the silence, calculating her own words.

"I know, that glint in their eyes is just...weird—" Mira narrowed her eyes, leaning closer to your sleeping form once more, her gaze fixed on the rise and fall of your chest. "I killed that demon before it stole their soul, but…" Her words trailed off, her mind running through all the possibilities, maybe…?

"They're going to be okay, right?" Zoey interrupted, crossing her arms and lowering her voice to a whisper. "They look...normal, but their soul? Will it be okay?"

Neither of the other two hunters dared to answer, it's not like they didn't know either. It's not like they could see the state of your soul, they just...felt it, and it was strange. Mira shook her head slightly, letting out a snort. "I just know that it will make them easy prey."

Rumi bit her nails in concern, examining you completely. Her eyes saw nothing strange, but there was something that didn't feel right to her. "Whatever it is, we can't let anyone find out about this, obviously—and now, whether we want it or not, they're linked to us."

"And to them too," Zoey added, her voice small, as if she were afraid someone else might hear her.

The atmosphere that had been warm and light a few moments before now pressed down on them, heavy as steel. This was technically a tragedy waiting to happen, and they knew it very well, but—

"Ugh," Mira groaned loudly, reaching for a throw pillow and looking at it as if it was the culprit of all this. "Damn demons, I can't wait to— Ugh! Smash their disgusting faces in and…" She threw the poor pillow hard, hitting it like a punching bag and taking out all her anger. "Send them back where they came from! Rip and tear them apart… And make disappear them and their— stupid abs!"

"Yes! We're going to break them apart! And then demolish them until they're in a ball of regret and pain—making sure they regret even thinking about messing with our fans!" Zoey squealed, choking a poor teddy bear that unfortunately happened to be there.

Rumi laughed softly, her legs climbing back onto the couch, getting comfortable again. Her eyes scanned her friends, who were currently imagining themselves killing the group of boys who had been making their lives miserable. Her laughter slowly faded, a smile that didn't reach her eyes on her lips. Why did she have such a bad feeling?

"I swear to Celine, if I see those stupid Saja Boys again—I don't care if we're in public—I'm going to fucking kill them." "HELL YEAHH!!!!!!"

The poorly closed windows of the room allowed a cold breeze to enter the room, the lights, despite being late, still escaped from the streets and were present on the ceiling. 

Everything was dark, the only visible lights were those of the television in front of the bed and Kyungmi's phone.The low-volume sound of the news still filled the air, the soft but stern voice of the newscast announcing the headlines to which Kyungmi didn't quite pay attention. "…several recent disappearances in Seoul's northern districts… the police have yet to issue a clear statement…"

Kyungmi squirmed slightly, her hands clenched on her phone. She tried not to move too much so as not to disturb Ryu-na, who was peacefully asleep, her head resting on her stomach in a position that was comfortable for her, her messy hair and slow breathing somehow keeping Kyungmi grounded, her hand resting in her blonde hair trying to calm herself.

Her eyes were red, glued to her phone. The night was peaceful, the two of them in their soft pajamas after a full day of rest. She was supposed to be at peace, rested—but no. Her mind couldn't stop racing, and it didn't help that you had literally disappeared and ignored every single message.

"...Another young woman was reported missing at 7:03 p.m. Her last known whereabouts were believed to be at the build..."

She put the video back on again, a rerun of the variety show "Play Games With Us." She'd easily watched it five times already, studying this new group's every move. People seemed to love and adore them. And she wanted to know why.

Her grip on her phone tightened so tightly her knuckles turned white, her eye twitching.

"Why...Them?" She hissed, not even bothering to hide the venom in her voice.

The clips played on a loop, over and over again. She watched the same moments repeatedly. Every fake laugh, every cheer from the audience, their movements that seemed so—so natural, as if they hadn't practiced for hours. Watching this was like she'd stabbed herself with a knife and was twisting it. 

She also rehearsed until she was exhausted, until her vocal cords were hoarse and her legs gave out. Ryu-na also wore herself out, always trying to do a new move in each choreography, trying to get someone to look at them. You? You worked your butt off trying to get spaces, stages, any opportunity that would give you a little exposure. In exchange for all your time, you earned a salary that barely covered your life. And yet, what did you get? Just a couple of performances in bars, fleeting, superficial glances from people on the street, and weak applause that ended as quickly as a breath. Isn't working hard enough to achieve anything you want? Why haven't they achieved anything yet after everything they've been through?

She felt rage and anger course through her chest like a knife, boiling through her veins. But it was as cold as the envy that settled in the pit of her stomach. Her phone screen went dark, only her reflection staring back at her. A blank stare, with tired eyes and dark circles under her eyes.

Ryu-na squirmed, muttering incoherently in her sleep, her arm moving on top of her, gently squeezing her, making her expression instinctively soften. Kyungmi sighed tiredly, lying down completely on the bed and pulling a blanket between them to keep warm, a soft smile appeared on her lips when she saw the blonde's serene expression— but it didn't last long, her hand reaching for her phone again, the frozen smiles of the Saja Boys, immortalized, mocking her.

Her thumb lowered to check her notifications; she still hadn't heard from you. She'd called and texted you several times throughout the day. But you didn't answer, even now, when you were supposed to be home by now. The news played again in the background, mentioning another disappearance. Almost as if it was mocking her again. But her mind was already elsewhere, drowning in the emptiness with that horrible feeling that no matter how hard she tried, she'd never amount to anything.

Kyungmi sighed, reaching for the remote to turn off the TV. She curled up, burying her head in the pillow, her hand clutching Ryu-na's as if she'd leave if she didn't hold on. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the whimper that was threatening to come out.

Tomorrow will be another day. 

She repeated herself. 

She just hopes something will get her out of this misery.

Chapter Text

The gentle breeze swayed the rice paddies, and the sun cast its last rays before setting with beautiful orange and pink colors, the clouds parting and making for a beautiful twilight afterwards giving way to the starry night. The soft rustling of leaves and the scent of damp earth permeated the air. In the distance, the screams and laughter of children playing on a mild, tender July summer afternoon could be heard. People were already gathering and lighting firewood for their bonfires. 

The bleach soaked into your fingers, your white shirt half unbuttoned and wrinkled, rolled up to your elbows and making the pen marks with numbers and scribbles visible on your skin. You could still feel the gentle but not bothersome burning and warmth in it, the sun marking your skin with its soft kiss. The chemical rolled and dripped onto your school pants, discoloring their navy blue color. Only leaving a smear as it passed. A soft huff escaped you, your clumsy hands working with inexperience. The brush delicately passed through each short strand of hair. Your eyebrows furrowed, feeling sweat beginning to form above your lip.

Last day of school, first day of summer break.

Summer was heavy, the air was humid and suffocating, and the rains battered the low roofs of the traditional houses.

And here you were, torturing yourself in the heat, dyeing Seojun's hair after he begged you until you wanted to rip your brain out and throw it into the sea.

"Man, could you at least stay still for two seconds?" Your fingers dug into his scalp, you were one movement away from snapping his neck, seriously.

"It's itchy!" He whimpered, throwing his head back, staining your shirt even more. You'd definitely will make him buy you a new uniform—

"Well, you're the one who wanted to dye your hair." you snorted under your breath, your fingers burning under the chemicals, hissing for what seemed like the umpteenth time. "Besides, my hands are burning too because someone forgot to buy gloves."

"DUDE, I swear they didn't sell them!"

"Didn't sell plastic gloves? In a hair salon? Where did they also give you the dye?"

Silence.

(Name) 1, Seojun 0!

"Why do you even want to dye your hair—pink?" You grumbled, hesitating for a second before you started wrapping the strands in foil. Crouching down, you looked at the instructions on Seojun's phone again.

"To get my hair used to chemicals for when I become an idol, duh." He responded as normal as could be, as if his own statement made any sense.

You didn't even bother to correct him.

"Okay, but why pink?" 

"Because girls like pink? right?" 

You shrugged.

Seojun clicked his tongue, as if you were the one saying and doing stupid things. 

"What would you know, bro?" He shook his shoulders, his brows furrowing in the most self-absorbed expression you've ever seen. "You're the biggest loser I know. You don't know anything about girls—or boys. That's how much of a loser you are."

Okay, you weren't going to hide it, you got offended.

"Excuse me?" You hissed, your hands perhaps pulling his locks too hard— "Says the guy girls literally run away from?"

"They're just shy around their strong and handsome classmate!"

"No they're not."

"Yes they are."

"No—"

"At least I have a phone." He mocked, grabbing his phone and waving it in your face.

"WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH IT???"

His head tilted, giving you the most smug, shit-eating smile you've ever seen. "It's all about it, bro, you're so old-fashioned. Who writes letters these days?"

"Girls like it!" You protested, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment and anger, damn it!— "I'm not that much of a loser..."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes—"

"NO."

"No."

"Yes—UGH." 

Falled for the oldest trick in the book, really?

You groaned pathetically, dragging your steps heavily. The only thing you received in response was a few small chuckles from the thug you decided to call a friend.

"Listen, I'm serious. You'd be so much cooler if you dyed your hair." He tempted you, already picturing you with your hair completely hot pink. If he was going to be the laughingstock of everyone, he wouldn't do it alone. Obviously, he'd pull you into that hole too.

Why did you doubt?

Why were you considering it?

Why were you reaching for the brush???

"Just one lock." You muttered sternly, a group of claps and 'yays' reaching your ears.

"You'll look so swag." "Stop."

Two days. 

You had two days left.

And for a few fleeting moments, you'd forgotten about that. Too busy cozying up with the very same Huntrix on a couch, feeding you like you were a child and pampering you like you were in some kind of dream.

Well, that was until you had your poor phone back in your hands, which seemed like it was about to explode with so many notifications.

And as much as you wanted to jump out of the window and break into Ryu-na and Kyungmi's apartment to grovel and apologize, the girls wouldn't let you do that, and they didn't.

Your soul technically left your body when you turned on your phone, notification after notification, your phone looking like a grenade about to detonate in your hands. The worst part was that most of them came from Kyungmi. You didn't know if she'd cry or beat you up when you finally showed up.

Your fingers found your mouth, and you began to bite your nails like you were a wannabe beaver. You were still wrapped in your signed blanket, and as much as you'd like to stay here and pretend a little longer, you had work to do—literally.

"I'm leaving." You announced, just as a husband about to go to war would. You earned a few confused looks, but you didn't pay much attention to them, deciding to go grab your backpack, obviously not without tripping first. 

"Leaving so soon?" Zoey materialized behind you out of nowhere, obviously making you scream. You almost tripped again, almost. She just giggled softly. A cup in her hands.

"Ginger tea? It's good for your throat!" She pushed the cup between your fingers, the steam hitting your face. Well, some tea wouldn't hurt. You blew on it a little before taking a small sip, sitting on the floor and setting the cup aside. You returned to the task of organizing your things. 

Zoey crouched down too, her hands on her knees and tilting her head like a lost puppy. "Why are you leaving so fast? Don't you think you should rest a little longer?" Cute, very cute, the most cute girl of the world.

"I have work." You said simply, even though it pained you to leave your very own idols for your job— it wasn't like you had much time to do it, if you still wanted to have the chance to make your group famous, you needed to take advantage of it.

You stood up, brushing the nonexistent dust off your pants. Huh? You still had on your uniform from yesterday? Ugh, you wouldn’t even have time to shower, but that didn’t matter now. You grabbed the cup and started drinking the liquid, wincing slightly at the distinct ginger burn. You wouldn’t complain, though. Zoey was still there, and if she asked you to, you’d eat even the food you hated most for her.

"You can stay, we'll take care of you—" "AHHHHHH"

What was wrong with these girls appearing out of nowhere???

Rumi was the culprit this time, this time with her beautiful braid already done, although she was still in soft pajamas with her gray hoodie, her hand rested on your shoulder— clearly not understanding the reason for your panic. Suddenly, you felt very self-conscious. You straightened up, trying to straight the wrinkles out of your clothes. You felt the familiar heat on your neck, rising to your cheeks maybe too fast. ohmygodyoucompletelyforgotyouwerewithyouridolsIDOLS!!!!BEHAVELIKEADECENTPERSON,(NAME)!!!!!

"Can't you just call and say you're sick? I'm sure they'll understand!" Now both of her hands were on your shoulders, you stood still like a statue, and you were also trembling...?

"Ya." Now Mira also arrived on the scene, her hair tied back in a low ponytail and still wearing that stupid teddy bear sweater. You had to force yourself not to stare too much, again. "Like, you can't go out like that, you're obviously not okay."

"I FEEL PERFECTLY FINE!!!!!!"

Oh, how could you forget? You were facing the two biggest nepo babies in all of Korea. How could they possibly understand you?

You didn't complain tho, they were the only nepo babies you would accept, the best actually, Huntrix until death—

Zoey frowned, her hand cupping her chin as she tried to find a solution everyone was happy with. "How about..." She rambled, turning around and catching your attention. "We make a deal?"

Now she had everyone's attention.

"You can go to work." Thank you, Zoey, thank you— "But on one condition!" She squeaked, her eyes lighting up, her hands finding yours.

You didn't expect that to be the condition. 

You were squeezed between the three girls for some reason you couldn't understand. They were so pressed against you that you could barely move your arms. Sweat stuck to your forehead, and you felt a suffocating heat that had nothing to do with the weather.

The interior is spacious, glamorous, with perfect, shiny leather surfaces and tinted windows that tried (and failed) to protect them from prying eyes. The seats were strategically arranged; the largest one could easily fit six people.

But, eh, it seemed like being pressed against you was more comfortable, I guess. 

You were cowering in the middle, clinging for dear life to your phone and signed blanket. To your right was Rumi, who had her arm wrapped around yours, a hoodie that didn't even try to hide her braid, along with oversized sunglasses. To your left, Zoey was maniacally writing in her notebook, her black glasses pushing forward against the aggressive scribbling, and a bucket hat that at least did something to hide her hair. Mira was pressed against the window, the one who had put the least effort into being in disguise. Just a cap and regular glasses, nothing more. Seriously. Nothing more. Her finger swiped through each cute cat picture, not before downloading it at lightning speed.

The silence was deadly. You swallowed, this was so— strange???

"Uh... I can sit over there, you know..." You gestured weakly to the seats in front of you. "It would be more comfortable for everyone, wouldn't—"

"No." Mira replied tersely, not even bothering to look away from her phone.

Rumi just chuckled softly, seeing you nod miserably. She leaned over, opening the limo's small fridge reaching for a bottle of cold water, and passing it and being even closer to you. "Here, you need to be hydrated."

You let your gratitude be known with a soft thank you, leaning back. You opened the bottle to let the cold liquid pass down your throat. As you swallowed, you took a moment to see what Zoey was doing. She was still scribbling rapidly in her notebook as if her life depended on it. Her handwriting was messy and doodled with skulls and x's. The word TAKEDOWN was written in large letters straight out of hell. Your eyes scanned the contents before you could act properly.

"You're never going to beat us with that dirty plan, and you're going to suffer from a...knock out?

Zoey shrieked at the top of her lungs, making everyone flinch, slamming her notebook shut.

"That's confidential!" She cried, hugging her notebook and technically dying right there, her face turning into a tomato within two seconds. 

"That's rude! no peeking." Rumi scolded you, giving you a gentle nudge, her stern voice making you falter. You were about to apologize on your knees for even existing, but Mira interrupted you, again.

"Rude, so rude." "I'M SORRY."

Zoey shrank in place, her notebook tucked tightly into her chest, her head down, and what little you could see of her face was red. Her feet were crossed and it was obvious she was trying not to see you, or anyone.

Fuck, you screwed up.

Your leg bounced nervously. If throwing up on Mira wasn't enough, you had to screw up in another different way today, too. Your mouth opened tentatively, then closed again, unsure of what to say. You raised your hand to place it on Zoey's shoulder, who didn't even seem to flinch. (Her ears flashed red.)

"I... I'm sorry..." You murmured, in a soft, small voice. "...It looks pretty cool and promising if you ask me..."

And like a flip of a switch, Zoey's kicked-puppy expression turned into one that was about to explode with excitement. 

"Do you like it?! OHGOSH!!! If you want, I can show you more of my lyrics!" She beamed in her seat, confusion filling you. She was quick to open her notebook again, flipping through page after page of lyrics. She held her notebook up again, her hand pulling you a little closer.

"Okay!!! What do you think of this one? 'Cause I see your real face and it's ugly as sin?'" "It's catchy."

"OKAY OKAY!!!! And— what about?— 'How can you sleep or live with yourself? A broken soul trapped in the nastiest shell'??" "It hurts, that's the point, right?"

"I THINK I'M GOING TO CRY—" Zoey whimpers, fanning herself. "Hear— A demon with no feelings don't deserve to live!" "Fire."

"I'ma cut you open, lose control, then rip out your heart!" "Uh...So good." "EJEGFSDJF— ejeksxuguvs."

Zoey cackled loudly, genuinely scaring you, her laughter soon turning into mischievous giggles. You watched her circle with her glitter pen what you assumed were the lines she had said to you before.

Huh.

Now that you think about it.

All the previous verses seemed to have something in common. 

And you couldn't keep your big mouth shut about it.

"Why do all the lyrics have something to do with demons? Is it a diss track???" 

Rumi, Zoey, and Mira turned to look at you, their heads slowly turning towards you, not even bothering to hide how stunned they were. Staring at you, eyes wide. You tensed under their stern stares. Better not have asked anything!

Mira softly cleared her throat, Zoey's manicured nails gripping the poor notebook as if someone was going to rip it out from under her. Rumi interrupted the silence, still gazing at you, and laughed awkwardly, her voice coming out a little too forced, too strained, fiddling with the hood of her hoodie and tugging at it. Was it just her, or was it starting to get a little hot?

You just raised an eyebrow.

"Um...because..." Rumi rambled, sweating bullets and hoping for some help from her companions. Nothing.

You were still waiting for your answer.

Maybe it was the gods, a miracle had happened. The limo door opened, all the air hitting Rumi, but hey, she didn't care. Her head shot out the door, slowly turning to you with the most awkward and uncomfortable smile in the world.

"Looks...like we've arrived at your work...!"

They condescendingly led you out of the limo, almost throwing your things outside. Someone wrapped you in the signed blanket, while they patted your head and back. You heard hurried, affectionate goodbyes, and before you could say anything, protest, or do something —

They had already left.

...Okay?

You shrugged, because what else could you do?

...

"Why did you show them the lyrics of the new song?? TO THEM, A FAN???" "THIS IS THE END OF OUR CAREERS"

As soon as you entered the studio, you were surprised by how strangely quiet it was. You entered cautiously, miraculously not running into any of your coworkers or any nosy assistants. And luckily, you didn't run into your boss. It was as if normalcy had decided to remain for a little.

The discomfort and the heavy weight of your responsibilities fell heavily on your back, each staircase you climbed was another step towards reality, you felt heavy, and it didn't help that the place was so quiet, lights so white that even the dust was controlled.

You cursed the agency once again and its stupid laziness in not fixing the elevator.

It wasn't long before you finally reached the door of your assigned little spot. You hesitated, your grip failing to grasp the door handle, you couldn't even hear any sounds or music inside. Were they actually even there?

Well, whether they were there or not, you still had to get in.

You turned the doorknob with what little courage you had left, and to your surprise (and perhaps bad luck), Kyungmi and Ryu-na were already there. The last one had settled on the floor, flipping through papers that you assumed were her lines for the song. Her head lifted slightly, a shy smile decorating her features. Instant relief filled her at knowing you had finally arrived. She waved silently at you, only to return to her previous task. 

Kyungmi, on the other hand, didn't even seem to have noticed your arrival, too absorbed in retracing her steps in front of the room's mirror. Her gaze was focused, and perhaps a bit too sour for the day just beginning. You closed the door, slipping into the room. Kyungmi stopped dead in her tracks, her head never quite turning to look at you.

"You arrived."

"Mmh..." You nodded without further ado, taking off the blanket and your backpack with it. Anything to ignore the way her gaze was killing you.

"We were waiting for you so we could start." Ryu-na intervened before the silence could last too long, gathering her papers and getting up from the floor. "We've been practicing, though." She nodded at the papers.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," you murmured softly, clasping your hands together as you let out a sigh. "Shall we begin then?"

You only received a nod from Ryu-na, who fixed herself in her seat. Your hands reached for the small radio, waiting for some confirmation from Kyungmi that she was ready. You shifted, searching for her gaze—but nothing. Her posture was like a statue, her gaze fixed on her own reflection.

She didn't look well.

"Kyung...?—"

"Are we going to start, or not?" She cut you off, sending you an annoyed look. "Huh?" You shook your head, letting out a small apology. The music starting to play.

The sound of the soundtrack echoed off the walls, along with the squeal of rubber and heavy, measured footwork. Your gaze shifted to a critical one, perhaps searching for a detail that could be improved. But so far, everything was going well; it was clear they'd practiced.

"1, 2, 3, 4." The count started again, their movements were extremely precise, well, that was until Ryu-na fell a little behind in the last count, nothing important, since she quickly got back on track, you would let her know later—

"Stop." Kyungmi stopped everything, standing still, leaving you no choice but to stop the music. "Again, please."

"Again? But if we were doing it right, we could have completed the song—" Ryu-na complained, seeking her friend's gaze, but receiving nothing in return. A frustrated huff left her at this.

The music started playing again.

Measured steps, smooth movements—

This time Kyungmi was the one who made a mistake.

"I did it wrong—" She growled, again stopping everything, you hesitated a bit before turning the music off again. 

"Hey, don't torture yourself. It's okay if you make a mistake— Just move on to the next step." You tried to reason with her gently. Maybe you could calm her down a little.

There was no response, just silence swallowing everything as she went over the part where she got it wrong.

Ryu-na grumbled, her hands on her hips as the gears in her head turned, trying to figure out what was happening to her friend. They were fine yesterday, so what the hell was happening to her now?

"Looks like someone didn't sleep well last night," she joked, snorting softly, looking for a smile instead.

Nothing.

Ryu-na flinched.

Okay...This is getting awkward, like, very awkward, you want to rip yourself out.

"Come on... Let's just... start over." You sighed, running your hands over your face. Now you had to figure out how to keep these two from killing each other when there was clearly a grudge you didn't understand between them.

How could your life have fallen, only to rise to the heavens and then fall like a nuclear bomb? Seriously?? Is this what you want, universe????

And all this in a short period of a day and a half. 

Yay...

You were about to turn the music back on, third time's the charm right? No. "Your arm." Kyungmi mumbled under her breath, receiving a frown from Ryu-na and a confused look on your part. "You're moving it wrong, you're making the movement look bad, fix your wrist position."

"So you have time to see my mistakes?" Ryu-na returned, the venom in her voice not bothering to hide. Sounding a little hurtes this time.

You stepped in, trying to turn the heat down again, because it was your job, and deep down, for some reason, you felt like control was slipping through your fingers like water. "Stop it, now." You said in a harsher tone than you intended, cringing at this."Could you— not act like kindergartners? Okay, I know we've been going through a rough time but—"

Kyungmi looked at you for a second, cold. You didn't know her. In an even harsher voice, she retorted. "She's not a child, tell her how it has to be done, she has to learn, If you don't do it then she will be a failure." 

You swallowed.

This no longer sounded like a correction, but rather a reproach.

A reproach to you.

"What's up with you today, huh?" Ryu-na answered before you could even say a word. "I thought we were fine yesterday, we even slept together—Why— why do you suddenly change your attitude? Are you really going to talk to me like that?"

Kyungmi took a step back, the phrase hitting her like a slap, her defiant posture sank, everything around her falling silent for a few moments, your voice was drowned in fog, you seemed to be trying to contain the blonde, who did nothing but look at her directly with sadness and hatred.

...Hate.

Hate?

Ryu-na was looking at her with hatred.

ˢᵉᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ﹖ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸᵒⁿᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵗᵘᵖⁱᵈ ᵃʳʳᵒᵍᵃⁿᵗ ᵃᵗᵗⁱᵗᵘᵈᵉ

ˢᵗᵘᵖⁱᵈ.

ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵖᵖᵉᵃʳ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ, ⁿᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵐⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᶠᵗ—

"I'm sorry, I— it's not you, it's me, okay? No, you didn't do anything wrong, it's just— it's just that I, I don't know— it's, it's—" Kyungmi choked on her own words, clearly looking for some kind of softness in her gaze, her words mingled with each other, she must scream and she had no mouth.

Ryu-na didn't let her finish, refusing to accept a half-hearted apology. "Isn't that all it is?" She looked at her as if what she'd just said was an insult to her. "Then why are you treating me like this? Why aren't you talking? I thought we agreed there would be communication about this—" She retorted, trying to remove your arm, which was futilely trying to keep them apart. Your brow furrowed. What the fuck.

...

ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ. 

"It's not that, you know it isn't." Kyungmi muttered under her breath, irritation returning to her features and wrapping all the regret and guilt from before in silk. "It's just that you're always trying to wing it, you're not in the center, we need control—"

"Control, yeah, right, Ha— there's always control." The blonde laughed unamusedly, shaking her head at her bewilderedly. "You're obsessed, you need help—"

"I said stop." You grew weary and gently pushed them away, placing yourself between them. You poked your temples, a vein popping out of your forehead. "Get your shit together somewhere else— We've got two, two days, do you hear me? I can't be separating you two and trying to calm you down like you're two little kids who can't get along. We're adults, please—" Your voice rose in pitch, annoyance and stress getting the better of you. You knew it hadn't sounded very good, you sighed.

"Think a bit, we're not mindless animals. This can be fixed by talking. But now we need to get to work, please?"

Silence stretched between the three of you, and you didn't miss the obvious glances Ryu-na and Kyungmi seemed to be throwing at each other, you sighing for the umpteenth time. The shorter just shook her head, forcing a smile out of it. 

"Let's begin then." She said softly, a tone that sounded strange in her.

Kyungmi just looked away.

Obviously the following rehearsals after that were not perfect, the emotions getting the best of the girls, although with time they began to loosen up, maybe it was fatigue or shared determination that fueled them. Whatever it was, it was working.

It wasn't long before one of the rehearsals went perfectly.

The formation was clean, and their steps fit precisely into the final beat. Ryu-na let out a long sigh and allowed herself to smile proudly, her posture slouching, her gaze lifted, seeking approval. You clapped happily, relief untying the knots in your shoulders. But Kyungmi was still in last position; she didn't show any joy, her expression conveying absolutely nothing. "Great! That was perfect! You nailed it!" You cheered them on; they were on the right track!

Kyungmi closed her eyes, a sigh that left hints of relief leaving her. "Good." She blurted out.

Silence hung between them, it was obvious they were both trying to ignore and move past the tension and the exchanged words from before, and Ryu-na felt like something was breaking, tearing, a shiver straightened her spine, tentatively she approached the black-haired girl, who was facing away, her hand rising, as if to brush her shoulder. "Are you... okay?" She asked cautiously.

Kyungmi didn't turn around to look at her immediately, but when she did, she truly did, Ryu-na took a step back, it was as if her eyes were looking right into her soul. But then—she sighed, the softness she'd come to know returning to her eyes. "You know it's not about you, I'm scared, okay? Scared of screwing up, of ruining this opportunity." She tried to keep her voice steady, but the thread of tiredness in it betrayed her. "I don't want that to happen, I don't want just because we can't— because I can't do one step right, everything goes down the drain."

"Then let's work together, but without breaking each other, we're a team, right?" Ryu-na said softly, her hands reaching for hers, which seemed to be colder than usual.

Kyungmi nodded, still unable to look her in the eyes.

The other girl smiled at this and playfully shoved her arm. "That's better. For a moment I thought it wasn't you—but there you are." The blonde chuckled, her hands rising to her shoulders. "We're a team, and before that, we are best friends right? don't forget that, but I swear, if you act like that again, I'll have you sleeping on the couch for a week!"  

Kyungmi's frown barely relaxed, her shoulders tensing at the touch, she finally dared to look into her eyes, nodding gently and forcing a smile, small, fake.

ˡᵒᵒᵏ, ˢʰᵉ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉʸᵉˢ, ᵍᵒᵈ, ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵒᵇᵛⁱᵒᵘˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ, ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵉʳ.

ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ⁱˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡ, ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᶠᵃᵏᵉ, ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ.

Ryu-na's smile fell at this, her hands going limp on her shoulders, her touch lasting longer than it should have, her grip slackening until her arms were hanging loose, any semblance of happiness erased. She only nodded in response, turning around to watch you return from the restroom and announcing another repeat.

The afternoon unfolded in repetitions, the place smelling of sweat from doing the routine over and over again, the steps already memorized, moving out of reflex more than anything else. This reminded them of their days as trainees, whole days of practicing without rest, praying that some agency would see them as useful so they could debut.

The final melody pierced their bodies, leaving them in the final position. Ryu-na gasped, resting her forehead on her hand, dizzy. She laughed incredulously, pride shining on her face. They'd nailed it, again.

"I'm going out for about five minutes. I need some water and air." Ryu-na gasped, leaning against the mirror, her mouth tasting of victory. Her legs moved on their own after hearing your approval. You were already packing up your things too. After all, it was already late—

"Wait—" Kyungmi babbled, her expression tired but not satisfied, her hand circling her, preventing her from taking another step. "One more repetition, please."

"Aga—...Again?"

Kyungmi shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing. "I need to make sure everything is okay, just one more time, please" She grumbled, making her hesitate; she didn't want to see Kyungmi upset again. Ryu-na gulped; she wanted to protest; her body couldn't take it anymore, but, was it just one more time? No? "I don't know if my body can..." She hesitated, her voice dripping with bewilderment and exhaustion.

A pair of hands interrupted their small talk; you grabbed their shoulders. "Kyung, don't push her. You both need to rest." You rested your chin on the black-haired girl's shoulder. "Ryu, if you're feeling tired, there's no need to continue. Technically, everything's ready. We can do the final touches tomorrow."

Ryu-na looked to Kyungmi for approval, for something, to make her decision. Kyungmi just looked at her pleadingly, and she fell. She sighed, shaking her head. "Just one more time, I won't die."

"Are you sure?" "Yes, (Name)." "But, like, are you really sure????" "Manager, stop." "Okay..."

The music started again, you lost count of the times you heard the same harmonies, the fatigue was evident, and you didn't understand the reason why they kept choking themselves dancing instead of taking a breath. The steps seemed impeccable, despite everything. That was until the bridge of the song, Ryu-na's breathing became a problem, her legs throbbed insistently, she stopped abruptly, simply stopping moving, folding in on herself, her hand lingering in the air, her heart in her mouth and her lungs pleading for retreat.

The music track continued to play on the speaker, but something cracked beneath it all, and it wasn't physical. Kyungmi turned to look at her, something on her face tense, that mask of frustration and anger. "What— What are you doing?" 

Ryu-na exhaled sharply, kneeling on the floor and waiting for the oxygen to return movement to her limbs. "I can't—Wait... I need...Just... One second..." She gasped, her response halting.

Kyungmi's jaw clenched, her fists clenched, she grumbled something inaudible, but Ryu-na didn't let it go.

"I told you." She snorted, brushing the damp strands of hair from her forehead. She didn't understand her annoyance. She'd warned her. What did she expect? She felt stupid herself; it was obvious her body couldn't take much more.

"Excuses." A murmur was heard, obviously not intended for anyone's ears. But Ryu-na heard it, and she wasn't amused at all.

"Excuse me?" Her gaze looked genuinely offended, even though it had been a word, it definitely sparked something inside her. Anger. "I warned you I was tired, and you still dare to get mad at me? wow, bravo Kyungmi, bravo."

"Uh-huh, and how strange that it always happens. This isn't a game."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Kyungmi's arms drooped, her anger and frustration crystal clear. "You always do whatever you want— change the choreography, sneak around, and ignore my advice!" Her eyebrows furrowed tightly, her hands on top of her head; any moment she was going to pull her hair out. "And rarely, every time we have an important rehearsal, you always have something to do, because oh, what a busy lady, can't come in for 30 minutes of practice. Lazy."

"Me? Lazy? I'm sorry for listening to my body when it needs it. I didn't know it was illegal." Ryu-na retorted, her tone mimicking and mocking Kyungmi's. "Sorry for having a life outside of this. I do have other things to do, not as someone—" 

"Other things?—you mean sneaking out? instead of practicing for the most important day of our lives?" Kyungmi stepped forward even further, lowering her voice but filling with rage. "You stand there halfway and hope someone will applaud you anyway."

"Ha!" Ryu-na let out a laugh that held no happiness beneath it, her hand going straight to her chest. "So now you're bringing that up out of nowhere? Then why don't we talk about your inability to accept that you're wrong? Or your fucking demands even on the way I breathe?"

Ryu-na and Kyungmi's voices grew louder every time they air their dirty linen. You wanted to intervene, but their reproaches weren't yours to address, nor were you supposed to clean up. Their voices echoed in the empty studio, each word thrown like gasoline on a fire. Everything was dense, suffocating.

Your fingers closed around the notebook you were holding, as if that would protect you from something, from their words. Your lips closed, only to open again and release a faint sound. "Girls—"

"Shut up (Name)— this is none of your business." Kyungmi snapped, her head tilting towards you in annoyance. You shut up after that, obviously.

"Ugh, you know what? We have to agree on something—we don't!" Ryu-na snorted exasperatedly, giving the black-haired girl a not-so-gentle shove on the shoulder.

"Of course! How could we be?! You always have your head in the clouds, you never do anything right! — We have two days before the real thing and you're still—"

"Don't project your insecurities on me, Kyungmi." Her name slipped poisonously from her tongue, she turned away, arms crossed.

Kyungmi fell silent, her expression one of not believing what she just heard, her fists clenched painfully, her nails digging into her palms, a shaky breath of rage coming out of her.

"..."

She let out a growl of frustration, turning on her heel and taking long, heavy strides toward the bathroom, the same rage and anger from yesterday boiling in her veins. She bit her lip until it drew blood to silence the insults that leaped to her tongue.

"Wait—" You followed Kyungmi like a lost dog, wanting to fix things, because there had to be a way, right? They couldn't just— part ways— You raised your hand, desperate to make her stay, to make them stay. "Kyu—"

She didn't even let you finish, slamming the door in your face. Leaving you with your hand still reaching for her, or at least, where she was.

You sighed shakily, it's okay, everything will be okay, give her some time, it's the stress, everything will be fine—

Your feet dragged heavily on the polished floor, your eyes fell on the form of Ryu-na, on the floor again, her chin tucked on her knees, and her arms around them.

You breathed softly, crouching down slightly, your hand reaching for her shoulder—

"(Name), don't—" Ryu-na grumbled, her shoulders tensing, refusing to look at you. Her head buried further into her knees. "Don't touch me— just— just go." She muttered disdainfully, disdain that was directed at you. You took a step back, just— no longer wanting to upset her. She only glanced at you, frustration and hatred clear in her brown eyes.

Shit.

The streets of Seoul were dark, the pavement damp from the recent drizzle. Taxis passed by, people laughed as they walked, a tourist took photos, or a tired worker returned home after a long day. Everything was the same as any other night.

But you didn't feel the same.

It was strange, really, everything that happened was so, inopportune? The fight? out of nowhere. You understood that they probably reached a breaking point where their issues and arguments you didn't know crossed and they just— broke.

And you felt weird.

Your brain couldn't even finish processing it completely.

What all this meant.

Because, how could you? A few weeks ago you remembered eating and having fun with them, watching Huntrix videos, planning their next outing, the new song, writing lyrics with them, composing songs—

All for what—in a single afternoon, all of that seemed like a distant memory, you didn't know who were the people in that studio, rage, anger, frustration, hate. It was the only thing you could see in their eyes.

Had you even been doing a good job?

You were young, perhaps too young to be a manager, and with that, you were inexperienced, a novice. This was your first time directing and managing a group, and when you were given the job, you were stunned because, why you? At least you were happy to be one, you promised yourself that even if it was your first time, you would make sure to be the best manager.

You were afraid it was your last time being one.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your jacket slightly damp from the drizzle. You slowly pulled out your phone, searching for any notifications that might tell you something about the girls, a sign of life, anything. But nothing; you only found emails and ads. You sighed tiredly, looking away from your phone, as if that would disconnect you from your reality.

And before you knew it, you started typing.

managernim (21:39)

I hope you got home safe

Girls

If you still don't feel sure if you are ready

I can

I can postpone

Because I don't want you to feel pressured.

If you need more time, you'll get it

We might miss the chance to appear on TV, but I'm going to make sure you have a good space at anyplace

You didn't receive a response

You sighed, your head falling with the weight of everything, you looked to your side, a sound calling your attention. 

It was coming from the convenience store in front of you. Two teens inside, laughing and pushing each other, still wearing their uniforms, had probably just gotten out of school and were out for a small treat. They looked happy, joking around as if the stares of others didn't matter, as if their responsibilities didn't weigh so much because they had each other's shoulders to lean on.

You didn't have that.

And then there was you, your reflection, all your decisions weighing on your shoulders right now, bad and good, successes and failures. Everything. You stopped, placed your palm against the glass, and for a second your world was visible through that glass. Curved, distant, alien.

But despite everything, it was still you. 

You stared for a few seconds, before reaching for your phone again, still nothing.

managernim (21:42)

reply when you can

please

You closed the door to your apartment, everything was still the same: dishes you forgot to wash were still in the sink, the papers with ideas you wrote in lucid moments were still on your table, the window you forgot to close, your clothes that needed washing.

It was a little comforting to know that at least this was still the same—mediocre, yes, but it was yours, your things, your mess. This was something you could decide, something you had control over. 

The backpack slipped off your shoulders, your jacket fell to the floor, and you slipped your shoes into the entryway, walking across the cold floor. With each step you took, your clothes tumbled into the hallway. You stumbled toward the bathroom, staring off into space as your bathtub filled with warm water for a well-deserved soak.

The moment you sank into your small raft, you felt your troubles, or at least a part of them, relax and dissipate in the warm water. You let out a shaky breath. You were tired; the day had simply spiraled downwards since you'd entered that studio, and the weight of the wounds you'd swallowed began to weigh on you, to bother you, to poke at your cheek, reminding you that they were still there, that they still hurt. That you hadn't overcome them.

Hard shell, soft heart.

Your eyes watered as you sank deeper into the tub.

You are a failure, you don't deserve anything, you are useless, because you can never do anything right.

And you sank.

Until the water engulfed you in a warm but lonely embrace.

Until you felt your chest grow heavy and your eyes closed, you hoped that forever—

...

What are you doing? Get a grip, (Name).

You poked your head out of the tub in exhilaration, your hands gripping the sides of the tub tightly until your knuckles turned white. It felt like if you let go you'd fall back into whatever that was. You breathed heavily, you swore the water had felt deeper, like you were sinking into a sea, like it was burning. Even though the water had cooled down a while ago.

...You needed a break.

You fumbled out of your bathroom, clutching the hem of your towel as if your life depended on it. You were tired, that's all. With some painkillers you'd be fine and ready to sleep—yes, that's what you needed.

The softness of your pajamas brought you back to consciousness, warmth, it felt good. And despite the pain pounding in your head, you could feel a little peace, at least a little— You didn't know what the hell was going on with you right now, but in the meantime, you'd feign dementia and ignore your problems as usual, it's not like anything had ever gone wrong before—

Well, you're lying, doing that has almost always gone wrong, but let's ignore that.

Whatever.

You fell exhausted into your bed like a Victorian sick child on their deathbed, stretching slightly before lovingly wrapping yourself in your sheets, how cold it was. 

Your phone—

You reached for it without much thought, almost instinctively, returning to the same situation as before, the strange feeling of not seeing any messages in the group, only old notifications you grumbled as you deleted. You can't believe they haven't responded yet, but hey, if they wanted time, you'd give them time.

You went on YouTube, anything to distract yourself, silly shorts, video essays that you listened to until you fell asleep, or maybe just background noise to—

Wait.

You haven't heard Huntrix's new song yet.

You were going to kill yourself.

HOW COULD YOU FORGET???

You rolled onto your side and, almost without thinking, clicked on the video, dismissing an annoying notification in the process. You held your breath, watching the beginning of the MV, the anticipation killing your poor, racing heart. And then, Rumi's voice entered, warm but powerful, like a tight hug from a friend you hadn't seen in a long time. Each verse filled the emptiness in your heart a little. Your eyes sparkled.

You covered half your face with the sheet as you listened to Zoey and Mira’s voices join in. You weren’t even really listening to the lyrics or what they were saying—you were just admiring the sound of their voices, their beautiful, sweet voices. The moisture in your eyes began to accumulate, probably from the emotion. And you forgot, you forgot the emptiness, the sadness from a few minutes ago. The chorus pierced you, and you felt a mixture of relief and company. The chorus was luminous, and their fingers tightened on your phone, letting the rhythm envelop you, your heart harmonizing with the beat of the song as it intertwined.

Ahh, nothing beats the distant embrace of music. It never fails to comfort you.

And as sad as it is, the song ended. But you didn't stop there.

You listened to it again, and again, you played it again and again, feeling the same feeling over and over again as you listened to it. On a loop, it went on and on. And you loved it even more. 

The song kept echoing in your ears as you repeated it, listening to it like a mantra, as if only you and the melody existed, as if listening to it would get you out of your problems. 

Though, somehow it did.

Golden was repeated over and over again, until your brain memorized it and until your body went limp, the sweet voices making you feel a little better on this lonely night.

Little by little, tiredness won the battle, your breathing slowed and the only sound was the soft humming coming from your headphones, your fingers loosened their grip and the cell phone was resting next to you. 

What a night.

The two teens remained silent, one massaging the other's scalp, the dye stain dripping and a small trail of water falling into the sink. The blue lights in the sky gradually darkened, calling out into the night. 

"Are...Are you really going to leave?" They asked, their voice cautious, as if they were afraid of their own words.

"Why?" He asked, his head lifting slightly to catch their eye, but a blow to the forehead made him lower his head again. "Ow."

"I don't know! just asking." They squealed, surreptitiously pushing their friend to start removing the bleach from their hair. But then, more quietly, almost to themselves, they muttered. "I thought your father would force you into the military."

"Probably."

"What do you mean with probably?"

He sighed, leaning back in his chair as they continued to squeeze out the dye, his chin resting on his hand. "That's what he's planning on doing, for sure." He scoffed, crossing his arms and resting his head on them. "But I'm not going to do that."

"No?" "No."

The silence stretched, not awkward, just silent, the only sound being the running water. They considered his words before asking.

"Why?"

"Such a busybody." He purred, leaning in as a smile spread across his lips. They just groaned in annoyance. But his smile fell a little, the serious tone returning to his voice. "I just want to be able to do what I love, no offense to the soldiers working out there, but being one of them just isn't for me—"

"Like, I mean, technically he did what he wanted when he married my mom, so why can't I have that freedom too?" Seojun groaned, burying his head in his hands, genuinely at a loss for what to do. "At this point, my only option is to run away, you know?"

...

"Would you help me?—" "No!" "Awh."

"I don't know what do you see in the city," (Name) said, drying the single lock of hair they decided to bleach. "I guess it's because you were born there, but, uh, I feel like it's quieter here, less hectic, much less stressful."

"Nah, the city is better, here if you don't watch yourself you could easily marry a distant cousin of yours."

"Good point." They let out a small chuckle, moving past him, looking for the dye to begin the hard work. "But at least you have peace. Of course, you have to do physical labor here, tending to the crops, lifting things, walking maybe too much to find anything commercial, blah blah blah, but—it's nice." "I just don't understand it bro, it's so quiet that it's just awkward!" "You just don't have the brain cells to understand it."

Seojun snorted, he didn't understand what was so charming here, they were in the middle of nowhe—

"Seojun."

"What?"

They turned around slowly, the bottle of dye about to explode in their grip, their eyebrows furrowed and they were clearly NOT pleased.

"What is this?" They demanded, word by word, their voice dropping an octave and making Seojun raise an eyebrow, his eyes traveling between their face and the dye, confusion obvious on his features.

"Uh... The dye you asked?"

Their finger pointed aggressively at the label.

"Uhhh...Creative image, Adore, Shining and semi-permanent colo—

"Ugh! youdumbfuck— THE NUMBER, WHAT NUMBER DID I ASK YOU FOR BEFORE?"

Seojun looked away, shrugging.

"I asked you to buy number 86, you idiot!" They erupted, their hands going into the air, ready to strangle him. They leaned dangerously close, their eyes scanning the label. "Number 172—color? Baby blue—God—EVEN THE LABEL IS COLOR BLUE."

"I DON'T KNOW, I DIDN'T SEE IT, I THOUGHT THEY WERE ALL LIKE THAT?"

"THEY WERE ALL LIKE THAT?? Is your brain failing you???? MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, THAT'S NOT EVEN BEING DISTRACTED, THAT'S JUST BEING STRAIGHT UP BLIND." 

They snorted exaggeratedly, throwing themselves to the ground in exasperation. What was they supposed to do now? Ugh, surely there was a way to fix this.

"Give me your phone." "WHY???" They let out a loud 'ugh' while not at all subtly rolling their eyes, simply holding their hand out to him. "I just want to watch a tutorial, dude."

"Wait," Seojun cradled his phone against his chest like it was his baby. "I need to charge it. It's dead." He defended himself, only earning a exaggerated groan from (Name).

"Please God, I never ask you anything, but just make my torture end soon."

Seojun just rolled his eyes at their comments. How dramatic, he thought. He rummaged through his backpack a bit before finding the battered charger. He plugged it into the outlet, ready to power up his phone—

A snapping sound echoed throughout the house, all lights going out. It was followed by a distant sound of complaints and whines from the neighbors outside—

"No. Way." "I'm going to kill myself."

Chapter Text

It was early in the morning, and the cafeteria was packed with conversation and people of all ages. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans and freshly baked pastries permeated the air. There was a wide variety of options to choose from, from a classic Americano coffee to a latte extremely sweet and just a hint of the rich brown liquid, you might have doubted was even coffee. 

But everyone was there for the same reason, whether it was a high school student during exam week or a nervous worker who was going to present their project today, they all came together for something.

Drink that delicious and rich liquid called coffee, and wake the fuck up.

And you were no exception. 

Although you had some side quests apart from that.

You found yourself scrolling without thinking much. Today, more than ever, you felt the dark circles under your eyes, feeling heavier on the inside than usual. Maybe because of yesterday, maybe because you didn't want to face the imminent separation from your group, no, that was not going to happen, you wouldn't bear it, ever. Your leg now was bouncing persistently against the floor.

What would you do? Should you write to the agency, perhaps? No, writing to the person who gave you the spot on TV would be much more reasonable. Would you postpone it? Or would it be better to cancel it?

"(Nome)— (Nama)— (Name)? (Name)!" A female voice interrupted you from your thoughts, startling you for a few seconds.

"Here!" You said out loud. You pushed through the crowd, letting out small apologies. God, why was it so crowded? It was like swimming in a sea of people, and it was awkward.

"Here's your—Iced Americano, Iced Latte Caramel Macchiato, and— an espresso? enjoy."

You gave a timid thank you, clutching the coffee as best you could. And you had to go through the torture of passing through all those people again. 

You made your way out of the cafeteria as best you could. It was a busy morning. You could see it in the people hurrying to work and their hurried glances. It's not that you don't have to do the same. It's just that you were avoiding it, at least for a few moments.

Sigh.

Okay (Name), you can do it!

The sky was bright, azure, almost dreamy, but you couldn't care less, unfortunately, you didn't have time to admire the scenery today. You had a difficult mission ahead of you today, and you had to focus.

Focus!

Yeah, you weren't doing that very well so far.

You were softly humming Golden, you heard it yesterday in middle crisis and now you were officially obsessed with it, Huntrix like always killing it, the best group ever. 

"I'm done hiding, now I'm shining like I'm born to be." Your walk, without realizing it, became more deliberate, hurried, yes, but at least not as tense, everything that the power of music does!

You continued walking, forgetting, for a few moments, what was probably waiting for you. Distant glances, perhaps a fight, or simply a defeating silence.

"We dreamin' hard, we came so far, now I belie— Ow!" DAMN COFFEE— Why it was so hot anyway? Your poor tongue was now numb. Excellent. 

You missed the first verse of the chorus, tragic. 

"...It's our moment." You gasped, it didn't matter if your tongue screamed, Huntrix mattered more. 

"You know together we're glowing!"

"Gonna be, Gonna be gold—" HONKKKK "—AH?"

What a nice way to start the morning.

The sound of tires slamming to a stop and the horn nearly scared you to death, making you lose your grip on your drinks as you nearly fell over from the loud noise. You nearly died on the spot. You turned to look back at the car, and well, whoever was driving the car wasn't happy at all. And who would be? Your distracted ass could have easily been run over a few seconds ago. 

The horn sounded again, more insistent.

You adjusted your grip on the drinks, giving an exaggerated bow and a loud 'I'm sorry!', fleeing the scene of the crime.

Jinu sighed in annoyance while eye-sideing the person running away, now, closing his eyes, he's reconsidering every decision he'd ever made. Why was he even doing this? Oh, right, erasing his memories. Very important.

'Why Jinu? Why?' He grumbled, his hands tightening on the steering wheel and his forehead falling forward. Why? Whyyyy..... Before he could continue complaining about his miserable, loser life, a strong, sour smell filled his sensitive nostrils. What?

His head turned in the slightest, the responsible of the overwhelming smell next to him, Abby, who was casually painting his nails with the windows closed.

Why.

"Abby—could you—open the windows? At least? Please??"

Ignored.

"Hey, got them pretty decent without Romance's help! What do you think?" Abby extended his hand toward him, showing off his freshly painted nails. He was right, they had turned out pretty nice, and he might have appreciated them if it weren't for the SUFFOCATING SMELL.

Jinu deadpanned.

Abby's smile widened.

Jinu just looked away, tired.

His head turned towards the back seats, where he found a peculiar and more than interesting scene...

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

A chorus of damned cheers filled his ears, Romance and Mystery had their arms raised, Romance was clapping excitedly, a sinister and pleased expression on him while cheering, while Mystery was blowing a fucking party blower. When did he even get it from? His fists held high as if this were the best day of his life.

And the damned, fucking culprit of all this, Baby, sitting calmly in the middle, gulping down a 500g bottle of hot sauce at a worrying pace, his expression completely unperturbed. He still dared to look back at him, bored, unfazed.

"What are you..."

Ignored, again.

Sometimes Jinu feels that his true punishment for his sins are these idiots, he doesn't understand what was in his head when he recruited them, he only knows that he was cursing his past self with all his might.

His head fell limp on the steering wheel, the sound of the horn lengthenint.

"What a baby." said, ironically, Baby, through the nozzle,  the bottle now empty. He let it go with a soft "plop," receiving a round of cheers and whistles.

Oh God, you had barely arrived and you were already regretting everything.

What made you think this was a good idea? There were a thousand ways for this interaction to go wrong, in fact—the odds of this miraculously going right were sub-zero.

With each step you climbed, you felt a pang of anxious agony. It was certainly similar to the same feeling you'd felt yesterday when you arrived, but it was a million times worse. You had a feeling that something bad was going to happen.

That something bad was already happening.

Well, whatever it is, you had to face it, you can't run away from your problems like when you were a teenager, unfortunately. 

The distant sound of music certainly disconcerted you; you recognized the melody very well. Perhaps they?— Uh, no, it can't be.

The door to the room was barely open, a small sliver of light spilling out, your shoulders tensed slightly, approaching cautiously. Your heart was pounding, and sweat was starting to build on your palms. You'd already prepared a few apologies, even though it wasn't your fault.

You carefully pushed the door open, and what you found inside was anything but what you expected.

The white lights blinded you for a few seconds, and the music was so loud you swore you felt your bones vibrate. Lights were set up, staff were running around, and you could see in the distance someone guiding the camera movements with gestures—next to him, someone was carrying a camera, and they actually seemed to know what they were doing. The girls moved naturally, as if this was what they were made for. Doing that damn choreography that you swore was going to be the reason for the group's dissolution. Their improved outfits looked like they'd been sewn by a designer with obvious color alterations; fuchsia was the color you saw most.

You froze completely, stunned— A girl ran past you, apparently a staff member, she had a cart full of makeup and gave a small apology as she pushed you.

What. The. Fuck.

In your years working here, you had never, NEVER, seen so many staff in one place, fuck, you even were extremely grateful when they sometimes sent the cleaning lady to your office—you could bet that every single person who worked in this building was now here. 

And, for what exactly...?

You had no idea. In fact, your head was about to explode for the very same reason. 

"Cut!" The shout of the one who seemed to be leading the cameraman brought you out of your thoughts. You shrank in place. Maybe you should leave? Forget it, too late. You could see Kyungmi and Ryu-na approaching.

"(Name)! Help me!" Ryu-na cried, running towards you with open arms. She hugged you, almost knocking you over, her arms wrapping around your neck, stealing the extremely sweet latte from your hands. "Ugh, what an angel you are, I love you."

Uh.

"You shouldn't have bothered, really," Kyungmi chuckled, also stealing the cold Americano from your hands, and you couldn't help but flinch when your hands collided, her hands were so cold that you let out a small startled sound. "Sorry, cold hands!"

Uhh...

You stood still like a statue because— What the hell?!

"What are you doing...?" You asked softly, almost afraid of your own voice—and you hated how weak you sounded right now. You cleared your throat.

"We were just shooting for the MV," Kyungmi replied naturally, effortlessly flipping her hair. She seemed completely pleased with herself. "In fact, ever since we uploaded the song, people haven't been keeping quiet about it."

What.

"Yes— It went completely viral! How exciting!" Ryu-na squealed with excitement, tightening the hug even more and jumping up and down.

What!?

"Wait— you did what?" You unclasped Ryu-na's arms from you, your voice filled with urgency. You were distressed. They weren't supposed to be uploading the song, especially without your permission. "You— you can't just do that— Who did you even ask for permission—?"

"Your boss."

"...Oh."

You stood there, arms limp at your sides. God, what were you supposed to do now?— Ryu-na pulled her phone out of her pocket and slowly showed you the screen. The new single was on the screen, and now it had a ridiculous amount of views. You snatched the phone out of her hands, just to double-check if this was real.

And it was.

There were no words to explain or describe the feeling in your chest right now, was it relief? happiness? or was it stress? anxiety? anguish? 

"...Why?" You murmured softly, tilting your head, your eyes squinting to see the comments better. "I thought you—"

"We made up." Kyungmi interrupted you before you could even finish your sentence. "We talked and made up, like we always do." She smiled softly, squeezing Ryu-na's shoulders and earning excited giggles from the blonde. 

Not for nothing, but, you're sure that none of their fights had been the same as yesterday's. It wasn't just a simple fight—and you're not sure it was right for them to make up so quickly. 

And your face said it all.

Ryu-na's eyebrows furrowed, her head tilting to one side. "Aren't you happy?" She seemed genuinely concerned. "We fixed everything, you're supposed to be happy—"

"No— Ryu-na, it's not that." You rubbed your temple, a migraine starting to form. "It's not that I'm not happy, it's just that. You guys just can't do that—" You huffed, letting out some of the frustration in your voice, handing the phone back to Ryu-na. 

They shrank.

"Look, I'm happy you went viral, but—" You paused, letting out a tired sigh. "What would have happened if you didn't? You know what my boss would have done? You have no idea, but I'm sure he would fired me—"

Speaking of the devil.

"(Name)! My dear (Name)!" A male voice interrupted you, almost chanting your name, condescendingly, probably. "Where's my favorite worker?" You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to roll your eyes in front of people, your fists now clenching. Shit, please no, not again.

"Glad to see you, boss." You turned around and put on the most condescending expression you could muster, your lips forming into a smile and your eyes narrowing just the tiniest bit. Your hands clasped together and bowed in a small greeting. 

Oh man, how you hated this guy.

Your boss laughed, and you already wanted to rip your ears off. "Ah, (Name), I always trusted you! I always, always knew you'd make a difference in this agency!" Uh-huh. As if he hadn't cut your budget a million times— He grabbed your hands and started shaking them, making you suck it up and smile uncomfortably.

"Ha! Who would have thought that the clumsy, dumb employee would be so much these days?" God, this man's ego surpassed any human ambition. "Oh, I still remember when you could barely handle a single bottle of soju. You've grown so much." He patted your back, straightening you up. At what point did you slouch?

How to forget the beginning of your workholism, yay.

"Uh, yeah..." You cleared your throat, interrupting before he started narrating more of your time as a rookie, you'd rather burn in hell than continue listening to him— "May I ask the point of all this?"

"Always so impatient!" He laughed loudly; you could tell he loved the sound of his own voice; otherwise, you didn't understand why he talked so much. "You haven't changed that much, then." He clapped, presumably to inflate his enormous ego. Some of your coworkers began to snicker, watching the whole interaction. 

'Fuck my life.'

You opened your mouth to protest, but you stopped. “The girls are leaving here.” He introduced, his stupid grin widening. “They’re being transferred to another agency, the contract is ready.”

—Huh?!

"Pardon me—?!" 

You didn’t mean to sound so exasperated at his words, but you just couldn’t help it. New song came out? MV? Agency change?! What timeline were you living in for all these things to happen at once??? It was too much for your already stressed self to process. 

"Yes, yes, an agency approached me directly to join in our project," he silenced you with his hand, as if the news were unimportant. "But I thought it best to change agencies. We don't think we'd be doing these talented girls justice."

He definitely got paid.

"But—and the paperwork—?"

"Everything's been done, don't worry." Your boss turned away, checking his watch. "Everything's already signed. It was a pretty quick process, actually."

You couldn't care less.

Your hand clutched your chest, taking a deep breath. Your heart pounded, because, Is this it? Is this the end? You don't have a job anymore, right? You have experience; it shouldn't be so hard to get accepted elsewhere, right?

Yesterday you thought it was the end of the group, but in reality it was the end of you in this project.

You probably looked completely devastated and miserable right now, you felt like shit.

"Hey." You felt a warm hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, you're coming with us." Ryu-na comforted you, giving you a little push in an attempt to cheer you up. 

"Yeah, we could never change such a good and sweet manager," Kyungmi linked her arm through yours, her temperature feeling so cool, in contrast to the blonde's. "It's hard to find people like you, especially in this industry."

Despite their words, you couldn't help but feel the same emptiness in your stomach. 

You breathed slowly, a small smile beginning to form on your lips.

Calm down, everything will be okay.

You hope.

The city passed by in a blur, the voices of girls bickering about God knows what filled your ears, you found yourself quieter than usual, you didn't even have your planner or clipboard in hand.

And it's just that all of this was so...weird.

You sighed, resting your cheek on your hand and leaning against the window. It seemed you were getting closer to their destination, as the taxi slowly slowed down. A large building appeared, which appeared to be the aforementioned agency, big purple letters:

GWM-Entertainment.

Yes, you've definitely never heard of this agency.

You just kept your fingers crossed that it wasn't an idol industry plant.

Ryu-na hurried to stick next to you, talking about her excitement at being here. To be honest, you weren't really listening. All you were doing was internally cringing, feeling somewhat intimidated by being here.

The three of you walked, getting closer and closer to the entrance, and as you did, you could see a certain silhouette leaning against the glass doors.

Silhouette that seemed to notice your gaze.

You swore you started listening the Business Proposal soundtrack.

Beautiful raspberry-colored hair, silky smooth, perfect. A face carved by angels themselves— And oh God, that sharp jaw, Ggh— His posture was nonchalant, his forearm propped against the wall. Even without any movement, his muscles flexed, seemingly drenched in sweat despite the cool weather. And his biceps, oh God, were easily the size of your face. His body should be banned for indecency and your mind's mayhem.

The real thirst trap final boss, seriously, his shirt was about to explode if he made another movement, you wouldn't mind.

Your jaw dropped, a warm heat filling your cheeks, and you were drooling, probably.

And Abby noticed.

He grinned happily, a boyish and clearly shameless smile.

Your brain screamed.

Ryu-na and Kyungmi didn't even looked fazed by him; in fact, they didn't even seem to notice the Greek sculpture of a man. You looked sheepishly at the ground, because you really didn't know what to do, and you didn't want to look like a pervert in front of them.

Your group finally reached the entrance and you did your best to NOT look up, Kyungmi had gone ahead of you, opening the door for you and—

The man leaned down, directly towards your face, almost cornering you. "Hello there, gorgeous— Handsome—" He started off, fumbling a bit before coming back with full confidence.

You blinked.

"—Beautiful and breathtaking looking staff."

'AHHHHH, AHHHHHHHHH, HE'S SO CLOSE TO ME I'M GOIGN TO DIEEJFGDHDHSGSHSJZXGDH'

"What's such a pretty little thing like you doing here?" He purred, his hand reaching out for you and making you have heart failure right now. "New cleaning staff, huh? I think—"

An involuntary squeak came from your mouth, interrupting him and making him a little confused by your reaction, but this didn't seem to stop him. His hand grazing your cheek with the faintest touch.

"—I think I left my dressing room a little messy, don't you want to come over?" 

"They're not the cleaning staff, they're our manager."  Kyungmi interrumped, jumping to defend you, her tone holding obvious irritation.

You giggled, missing the way Kyungmi looked at you, exasperated. "Well, uh, we're actually new here..." You laughed, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly. "Uh, that's Ryu-na and Kyungmi," You pointed nervously at each of them. "—We— they are KIZANG★LS, and I'm their manager."

"Oh yeah?"

Your ass definitely wasn't listening. 

"Hmm." You hummed in acknowledgment, nodding absentmindedly, staring at his handsome, beautifully sculpted and symmetrical face. You are sure that if you took a meat cleaver down the center of his skull you would have two matching halves.

Abby made sure to flex his biceps a little bit more, just for them to gaze. He technically had them eating out of the palm of his hand, he couldn't wait to feel their soul slipping from them and—

"Ahem."

Kyungmi's voice interrupted your daily daydreaming session. Your posture straightened in an instant, and you remembered you were no longer a stupid pubescent kid who still drooled over every attractive person you saw.

What a shame.

"Hope seeing ya' soon. Name's Abby," He finally decided to put some space between you, his lips contracting into a big smile. His hands rose only to send you a heart-shaped gesture with hands. This guy was seriously born to be an idol; it came so naturally to him. Actually, no, he was terrible at it, it's just that his physical appearance distracted you enough to notice it.

Kyungmi gently pulled your arm, barely letting you say goodbye.

You waved goodbye, being dragged along by Kyungmi. Something you couldn't care less about because you were too busy watching the last glimpses of Abby's skin.

The three of you entered the elevator, Ryu-na was busy scrolling on her phone and Kyungmi was grumbling under her breath, arms crossed and her foot bouncing on the floor.

And you were grinning like an idiot, cheeks burning.

Obviously you had to yap about what just happened.

"Did... Did you guys see the size of his biceps...?" You whispered conspiratorially, hands clutching at nothing. "They were the size of my head, is that even possible???" You exaggerated the size with your hands, sounding certainly desperate about it.

"That guy looked like he was built like a refrigerator," Ryu-na retorted, still staring at her phone. Kyungmi, on the other hand, just sneered, holding back the urge to roll her eyes. "They're probably on steroids, so don't get too excited."

"Still..." You sighed dreamily. Damn, you hadn't sighed like that since you were a preteen watching K-dramas with your cousin. "I can't believe he talked to me, oh my God—"

Ryu-na raised an eyebrow, looking at you curiously. "Now that I think about it, I've never heard you talk about someone like that, ever," she murmured under her breath, before poking your cheek. "What crawled up your ass? Are you high?"

"wha—NO?"

She narrowed her eyes, snorting through her nose. "So you're just deprived of affection," She claimed "—You need a partner, urgently." She shrugged, giving you space and a few seconds for the comment to sink in.

"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING"

Kyungmi looked at you, as if it was obvious what Ryu-na was saying. 

You just sighed, sinking into your spot.

"Okay, but hear me out—" "sTOP—"

You laughed at her expression, you really did, your laughter filling the small space, slowly spreading to your companions. Finally, you could say this was just another day, one where your head wasn't pounding and your chest felt light. That's what you wanted to convince yourself of.

The soft 'ding' of the elevator announced your arrival, your cheeks ached slightly from laughing, and finally after this completely crushing week, you could say you were feeling okay.

The laughter slowly died away as you left the elevator, the doors closed with a soft thud, and you swore the air had turned colder, a feeling of strangeness filling you, something that itched but you couldn't put your finger on.

Your gaze fell to the floor, the fleeting happiness that had filled you fading as quickly as it had come, and you scratched the back of your neck in discomfort. Ryu-na and Kyungmi's voices filled your ears, but you couldn't really hear them or pay attention to what they were saying... You felt lost somehow, in these hallways that never seemed to end.

Sighing, you lifted your head, shaking off the bad thoughts, slowing your pace. Now that you noticed, the walls were decorated with photos and portraits of what looked like groups and idols you'd never seen in your life, imposing, almost as if their practiced gaze and perfect smile would crush you. How scary... A shiver ran down your spine.

And by the time you realized upon raising your gaze, the girls were already a considerable distance away, your jaw dropped as you let out a small 'wait—' which only reached your ears. You had fallen behind— 

You cursed under your breath, hurrying to walk. And no matter how fast you moved, their voices still drifted into the distance, muffled, as if swallowed up by the aisle itself.

"—Hey, wait." You said, now loud enough for them to hear you, which they didn't, your voice bouncing off the walls.

You feel a blast of cold shake your bones, shit— why did they have the air conditioning in so high? 

Technically you were sprinting right now, in endless hallways, the tapestries only seeming to repeat themselves, and the photos of perfect idols seeming to judge you with their eyes—

You turned the corner, finding a group of staff members who seemed deep in discussion about something. Huh? You swore the girls had turned right around this corner?

"Excuse me, sorry to interrupt—" Your hand reached for the shoulder of a girl who appeared to be some sort of audio staff, given the headphones dangling around her neck. Her head shot up to you, eyes wide, uhm... You laughed awkwardly, quickly stuffing your hand into one of your pockets.

"Uhh, did you happen to see two girls pass by here?" You asked timidly. Shit, it was obvious you hadn't been around people for a while. "They were supposed to pass by...here...?" Your words trailed off as the girl stood on her tiptoes, her face extremely close to yours. You gulped.

She blinked at you, her pupils dilating.

"Uh, actually, yes." A taller guy with glasses interrupted, pulling the girl and nearly knocking her off her feet. She couldn't seem to take his eyes off you, despite everything. "They went to...Uh...Over there!" He pointed in the opposite direction, looking quite nervous.

Weird.

Your head turned, seeing the hallway; it was completely empty. Your eyebrows furrowed; you swore they'd gone this way.

You shrugged.

Maybe you were just confused.

You gave a small thank you before continuing your search in the other hallway.

As soon as they were out of sight a loud 'Smack!' was heard.

"ARE YOU CRAZY??? ARE YOU GOING TO HAVE US KILLED!!!!!" 

"It's not my fault!" She hissed, rubbing the now red back of her neck, damn sensitive human skin! "Gwi-ma told us we could take any souls we wanted—" 

"BUT NOT THEIRS—" He grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her like a maniac, his eyes flashing gold. "I'M SICK OF YOU, THIS IS IT, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU I'MGOINGTOKILLYSOUIMGOINGTOKILLYOU."

You were about to descend into madness.

Why. Everything. Looked. The. Fucking. Same.

You felt lost seeing the panorama, a lot of red doors, and in very small, golden letters, what seemed to be names. How the hell were you supposed to find Ryu-na and Kyungmi this way? If this was going to be the space you were going to work in for the next few months, you're officially cooked.

So, now, being the thinking, rational person that you are, you had a very good idea to found them. 

Open all the doors and look out and pray that one of them is there.

And so began your beautiful and not at all boring adventure, in which you were not going to overthink every decision you had made from the first moment of consciousness you had to take you to this place.

Yay.

You sighed for the umpteenth time of the day, you are absolutely sure that with each sigh you took a little piece of sillyness and whimsy was torn from you.

Yay...

You opened door handles like a maniac, most of the time only finding unused dressing rooms and used as storage units. It was beyond strange, an agency that looked somehow so luxurious and prestigious so...desolate. Or well, that was when your hopes were raised upon hearing a muffled conversation outside the door. You opened it with excitement only to be crushed by the harsh reality once again. Just a few random girls who completely fell silent at your presence, only to—

"AHHHHHHHHHHH—" "I'M SOSORRYOMG—"

Closing the door as quickly as your arms could react, you were now crying and kicking internally. This day was bound to overwhelm you, and the worst it's that it was just getting started. You should have taken that painkiller when you could, seriously.

You grumbled under your breath, leaning against a wall before giving in and sitting down in one of the nearby seats. You tucked your backpack between your legs, taking out your phone and notebook.

Your phone's wallpaper greeted you, making you smile the tiniest bit. Unconsciously, you reached for the three of you group chat. Only to see the miserable, pathetic messages you'd sent the day before, with no response yet, just left on read.

"Reply when you can."

"Please."

Your face twisted into a grimace; you really had sounded pathetic. Crawling seemed like the only thing you knew how to do well. Your eye started twitching, probably from stress. 

A long minute passed, and all you did was stare at yesterday's messages. You were supposed to be happy, but the speed at which things were happening left you barely able to process them. Your mind was still reeling from yesterday's grief, so now you didn't know how to feel.

Because, how are you supposed to feel?

You sighed.

It wasn't the time to get depressed, not now, and certainly not here. Now you really had a lot of things to do, so the best thing would be to get that lazy ass to work.

You took out your beautiful and powerful glitter pen with a teddy bear eraser at the end, searching for a blank sheet of paper in your planner. Now that you've changed agencies, the schedules are obviously different, and if it's what it seemed like, they will be probably much more demanding and harsh with the girls now.

The notes and small calculations flew across the page, filling it faster than you thought. Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes narrowed. The poor little bear was suffering from your anxious, focused bites. 

Hey.

Now that you think about it.

Despite all the time you worked there, you never got your promised paid vacation after 3 years working there.

...

That bastard— Damn old people!

You complained loudly, after all, there was no one to hear you. That's what you thought!

While you were throwing your little tantrum because you just realized your stupid, stingy ex-boss overexerted you and you never did nothing about it. Your pen fell, which you didn't mind until you stopped whining.

Your eyes opened, you were done with this life—and somehow the pen rolled ridiculously far away, so you couldn't stretch your leg to reach it, No, you had to stand up.

You let out an annoyed grunt, reluctantly standing up to pick up the pencil.

But,

It seems someone had already reached for it.