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Chapter Text

Zoey dragged her suitcase behind her across the tiled floor of the airport, the wheels squeaking every so often. She found an empty seat near the gate and sat down, exhaling slowly as she stared at the planes outside. She pulled her suitcase close and rested her head on it while trying not to nod off. Through the wide airport windows, she watched as plane engines roared before finally taking off.

 

She glanced around the airport, watching families say goodbye, businesspeople tapping on their phones, and kids laughing. To them, it all felt ordinary, but to her, this moment was extraordinary. She caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass. Her hair was messy from the long wait, and dark circles from too many nights practising before leaving. She gave herself a half-smile. She told herself multiple times she could do it, but she didn’t even know if she believed herself.

 

She’s been singing, rapping and dancing in her room since she was young, probably nine years old. She was eighteen now, free from her parents' rules and had made her choice to be a K-pop idol after some groups like Twice sparked inspiration. However, the Sunlight Sisters were her ultimate favourites. Ryu Miyeong was hands down her bias and maybe even her bisexual awakening. She never once thought she’d be as big as them, but to her, performing and doing what she loves was all she ever wanted.

 

Her chest started to tighten. Perhaps her parents were right. She was running into a blind path, uncertain whether she’d be met with failure or success; it was a gamble. Her parents told her to at least go to college as a backup, but she was as stubborn as a mule or a boulder that wouldn’t move.

“Flight 452 is ready for boarding. Please make your way down to gate 3.” Her train of thought was disrupted by the announcement to board her flight.

 

“This is it, Zo, no turning back.”

---

Zoey stood in the small practice room, her palms sweating and her breath hitching as she faced the panel of judges. The mirrored wall behind them only made her nerves worse. She could see herself trembling like a lost puppy.

“Whenever you’re ready,” one of them said flatly, jotting something down on a clipboard. Honestly, Zoey took a while to dissect the sentence to understand it as a whole. Being a foreigner with little knowledge of Korean, other than some common phrases, made her idea seem stupid. Sure, she was half, but her mother never really saw the need to teach her much.

 

She nodded, took a shaky breath, and launched into her practised routine. A verse she’d written herself, followed by a short dance cover. Her voice wavered at first, but she pushed through, forcing every ounce of energy she had into her performance.

 

When the music cut, silence filled the room. Zoey’s chest heaved as she looked at the judges, searching for any sign of approval.

 

Instead, one of them cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming. You may go now.”

 

Her stomach dropped.

 

“Wait… so I just go?”

 

Another judge gave her a polite but firm nod. “We’ll contact you if necessary, probably won’t happen. Next.”

 

The word hit her like a punch straight to the gut. Maybe her Korean pronunciation was off, but still…

 

She stumbled out into the hallway, clutching her bag, her ears ringing with “Next.” Trainees walked past, some confident, some just as nervous as she’d been, but to Zoey, it all blurred together in the background.

 

She found a bench outside the building and collapsed onto it. Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone. A text from her mom lit the screen: Did you audition yet? How did it go? Zoey stared at it, her throat tightening. She typed, erased, and typed again before deciding to leave the box empty.

 

She slipped her phone back into her bag and let out a bitter laugh. “So much for a fresh start, huh?”

 

The city around her was unfamiliar. For the first time since boarding that plane, she felt small. But deep down, beneath the sting of rejection, a flicker of stubbornness refused to die out. One failure doesn’t define who you are at the end of the day.

 

She sat up straighter, wiped her eyes of tears she hadn’t realised were falling. “Okay, Zo. Round one’s a loss. But you’re not done yet,” she whispered to herself, holding up her fist.

---

“You have potential, but you’re not quite what we’re looking for right now.”

“Please keep practising and maybe come back when you’ve improved.”

“We appreciate your effort. Unfortunately, you don’t match our company’s standards.”

“Your dancing lacks energy.”

“You don’t have the visuals we’re searching for,. You’re a bit too… foreign.”

“Honestly, I don’t see idol material here.”

“Not exactly memorable.”

Someone shakes their head before she’s even finished.

---

Zoey sat on the curb outside the audition building, her bag tossed carelessly to the side. The city noise around her wasn’t enough to drown out her thoughts. It all felt muffled, like she was underwater. She hugged her knees to her chest and let out a shaky breath.

 

“Again. How many times do I have to hear “not enough” before it sinks in?”

 

She pressed her palms to her face, trying to hold back tears, but the river behind her eyes betrayed her and started to flow.

 

“I practised so much. I stayed up late. I gave everything… and for what? So they could just… look at me and say no? Even professional dance classes aren’t helping. Gosh, I’m such a lost cause…”
Her voice broke a little at the end.

 

“Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not ready. Maybe I don’t have what it takes. Maybe I should’ve just… stayed home.”

---

Zoey felt her heart beat as she stepped onto the small stage. She had turned to underground rap shows. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but at least there was a crowd… of like thirty-something people. She was proving herself to whom exactly on such a low-budget TV show?

 

The beat dropped.

 

She gripped the mic tighter as her knuckles went white. Zoey closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting the beat sink in. Then she began her freestyle, throwing some lines she had improvised and some that she memorised as filler bars.

 

The judges scribbled notes, occasionally nodding, whispering to each other. Contestants smirked, sizing up to her trying to intimidate her. But Zoey didn’t care about any of that. Every rhyme, every punchline, every bar, every flex was hers.

 

The crowd, as small as it was, erupted into loud cheers every time she said something that could kill. Even one or two cameramen gave a small nod of approval. It wasn’t a stadium. It wasn’t her ultimate debut. But it was real and it was the start of her proving that she belonged.

---

Zoey paced backstage, heart hammering in her chest. This was the upgraded show. It had a bigger studio, brighter lights, big-time judges, and a reputation that made her knees shake. She’d fought through months of tiny rap shows, grind after grind, building a small but loyal following. Tonight, everything could change.

 

When her name was called, the crowd erupted. Cameras pointed, lights glaring, and for a split second, Zoey froze, but she got over it. She has done this before. She was ready.

 

The opponents? A rap duo that had been professionally performing together for five years. Buff, confident, with a fanbase and stage experience that could intimidate anyone. And yet… Zoey wasn’t scared.

 

The beat dropped. Zoey stepped forward, eyes sharp, every movement precise yet fluid. Her mixture of the Korean language and the American rap style made her flow unique. Though some seniors teased her, saying “she can’t just rhyme with English only because it doesn’t make her any cooler”. Regardless, she spat bars. By the second round, the duo stuttered. They tried to match her energy, but it was impossible. Zoey moved like she was commanding the stage, every word cutting deeper. By the last verse, both of them were visibly shaken. One of them, a grown man with broad shoulders and a chest like he never misses a day at the gym, wiped tears from his eyes on live TV. The other followed, unable to contain herself, feeling humiliated.

 

The crowd went wild. Judges screamed out, too. The chat on the live stream exploded with praise. Clips of her performance went viral. Zoey’s name was trending. People were dying for more of her. Backstage, a talent scout who had been watching from the corner finally stepped forward.

 

“You’re Zoey, correct? I’m Bobby.”

 

Zoey’s stomach dropped, and then a big smile spread across her face, which probably had the ability to reach her eyes. This was it. The moment she had been working for. This was the real start of her career.

Chapter Text

Mira was never like the other kids, regardless of gender. While they played with dolls or wore ribbons, she collected stickers of skulls, drew wild creatures in her notebooks, and blasted music that made the people around her complain. She liked the noise. She liked being different. She liked being colourful in a world full of grey.

 

On the other hand, her family didn’t like it. Conservative, orderly, and traditional are some words that could describe them. Her father was a doctor, her mother a lawyer and her brother the golden child. They had plans for Mira. Plans that involved ribbons, dolls, manners, and grace. When she was seven, they signed her up for ballet classes.

 

Mira tried to fight it, throwing tantrums and purposely doing things to make them late. However, in the end, she laced up the pink pointe shoes, pulled her brown hair into a tight, perfect bun, and stood at the barre like she was supposed to. She twirled, she pointed her toes, she counted in her head as she bent her knees up and down.

 

But it wasn’t her, and she knew better. The same boring routines, the tiny, delicate movements, the expectation to look sweet, elegant, and not to overstep her place, even if she really needed to stand up for herself. But that’s not “lady-like”. What the hell even makes a lady? Her limbs wanted to move differently.

 

By the time she was twelve, she still went to ballet, partly out of habit, but this didn’t stop her from learning about dance styles in her room. Hip-hop felt more at home. She loved the way they jumped around energetically. Having no care in the world, they were loud, confident in every step. No matter how difficult, Mira taught herself to replicate it. She never stopped dancing, even if her legs felt like they’d give out or her arms were noodles. She even went as far as creating her own intense choreos. The rush just made her feel… good, complete.

 

When Mira turned thirteen, the rebellion started. It wasn’t big at first, just small changes like wearing ripped leggings under her leotard that made her seem untidy, even louder metal music in the house, and sharper movements in ballet. Over time, it got more obvious. She shouted back to her parents, refusing any sort of interaction with them. She was breaking free. Her life was hers, and not theirs. She was a teen capable of anything. She even dyed her hair bright pink again, but that’s another story.

 

By sixteen, she had a full transformation. She stood out way too much to the point that her parents stopped bringing her to family events since she was an “embarrassment”. She could scoff at that idea. Maybe if they let her be what she wanted earlier, she wouldn’t be snapping at everybody. She swapped ballet for hip hop classes. She could dance how she desired to, not how someone told her to.

 

Her parents weren’t thrilled, but they couldn’t stop her. Mira had started a part-time job at a café to pay for lessons herself, and with that independence, no one could tell her what to do. She learned to fight for what she loved. Every coin she earned went into classes, every hour she spent practising was hers alone. This was her own armour, her own thick skin. She developed it, and it became her defence mechanism. Nobody could get close to her. She wouldn’t allow it, and it would stay that way. Those stares that she’d be met with wouldn’t dull her colours.

 

By the time she stepped onto a real stage, she was unshakable. Performing in front of crowds, whether it was as a backup dancer for a real idol or an opening act to an event. The girl who had been told she was too different, too loud, too unconventional had turned all of it into her own fire. Her style, her personality, was all proof that being herself was okay. Sure, sometimes she didn’t feel like she was really the strongest and wanted to break down and cry, but that was weakness. Weakness was hers to show. From sitting up straight until your back hurts to being a total punk was her change.

 

She didn’t plan on going back. Never.

---

The studio buzzed with nervous energy as Mira adjusted the laces of her sneakers, glancing around at the other dancers. The teacher, a no-nonsense woman in her forties, called out

 

“Alright, everyone, the festival performance is coming up. Mira, your choreography has been selected for the routine. Everyone, follow her counts for this one!”

 

Mira’s stomach fluttered. She hadn’t expected it. Her choreography, which was a mix of sharp hip-hop moves with subtle rock-inspired flair, was just something she’d thrown together after hours of messing around at home. Now it was about to be seen by a full troupe… and maybe more.

 

The beat played, and Mira taught everyone the steps one by one. She was a good teacher, going back every once in a while to make sure everyone got it down. Mira led the dancers, her eyes scanning the group to make sure everyone was in sync, but mostly focusing on her own movements. The routine went just as she wanted it to. The quick footwork, angular arm movements, unexpected pauses, and bursts of energy made the floor vibrate when everybody jumped at the same time.

 

From the back of the room, the talent scout leaned against the wall, arms folded, observing quietly. Mira didn’t notice. She was lost in the music, letting the music dictate her body while watching the other dancers hit her counts perfectly until the end

 

Her teacher clapped first. “Mira. Very expressive. Good work, everyone.”

 

The scout, still leaning against the wall, finally spoke “You’ve got young talent,” they said, voice calm but serious. “That choreography… it wasn’t just skill. It was personality. Creativity. I want to see more of this,” they finished up, passing a business card.

 

Sunlight Ent.

 

Oh God. Oh MY God.

 

Mira felt her chest tighten like “Did that really just happen?” She looked at the scout, wide-eyed, then at her teacher, who gave a small, approving nod.

 

This could change everything for her. She could finally get away from her jerk parents.

---

Pacing around in her bedroom, the business card was pressed between her fingers like it was fragile glass. Her heart raced. She didn’t have a plan yet.

 

“What’s that?”

 

Her brother’s voice. They weren’t necessarily on bad terms. He was just too cowardly to stand up to their parents, so he let them mould him into what they wanted, but they could never change his views on Mira. Mira was his cool older sister, only three years apart, but he never voiced his opinion.

 

“It’s… a scout,” Mira said, trying to keep her voice calm. “They saw me at the festival rehearsal. He wants to see more of my dancing… maybe even help me go pro.”

 

Her brother’s eyes widened. “Wait, seriously? That’s huge! You gotta tell Mom and Dad!”

 

Mira froze. She didn’t want them involved. They never got her, never supported her. But her brother was already on his way “I’ll just tell them quick. They’ll be excited how your work paid off.”

 

Within less than a minute, her parents were in her room. Her father grabbed the card out her hands roughly, inspecting it with an angry frown. Her mother leaned over his shoulder.

 

“This?” her father said flatly. “Some stranger giving you a card? You think this is serious?”

 

“I-I was scouted,” Mira said, trying to keep her voice steady. Come on, get it together. She’s more than this “They liked my choreography. I’ve been working-”

 

Her mother snatched the card and crumpled it between her hands. “Working? This isn’t work. This is a childish fantasy. You’re supposed to focus on a proper career. Not… this… thing.”

 

Mira’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t a fantasy. I’m good at this. I worked for this. You don’t get it because you’ve never here fo-”

 

“We’ve never what?” her father snapped, voice rising. “Disrespected our own family? Look at your brother. Look at your life. This isn’t who you’re supposed to be! Nobody taught you this… this… vile behaviour.”

 

“I’m not supposed to be anyone but me!” Mira yelled, stepping forward, chest heaving. “I’m not going to sit here and let you control my life. I’ve been done pretending to be something I’m not! Just give it a damn rest.”

 

Her mother’s face darkened. “If that’s how you feel, maybe you need space to ‘figure it out.’ You can leave. I shouldn’t have to see your face again.”

 

Mira’s mouth went dry. “You’re… kicking me out?”

 

Her father nodded grimly. “Maybe some independence will teach you reality. We’ve tried to make sure you have a comfortable life, but you just keep finding foolishness to play with.”

 

They walked out on her, mumbling about her stupidity or something.

 

Mira’s fingers clenched into fists. Her bedroom, her safe place, suddenly felt suffocating. She looked at the crumpled business card on the floor. The only connection to her dreams. She bent down, smoothing it out as best she could.

 

She wanted to tear herself apart like the card. She wanted to scream. Anything. She felt worthless, weak. Like she was seven years old again in pointe shoes she never wanted to wear.

---

Mira’s backpack was heavy, stuffed with a few clothes, her notebook of choreography, and the crumpled business card she had smoothed out a dozen times. The city felt colder than ever, streets buzzing with people who didn’t know her, didn’t care. Probably using her as an example to their kids, “Listen to mommy, or that’s what will happen to you”.

 

The first night was the hardest. She slept on a subway bench, her hoodie pulled tight against the cold air, jolting awake every time an announcement blasted through the speakers. Her stomach twisted from hunger, but she ignored it, chewing on crackers she’d stuffed in her bag. By morning, she looked in the bathroom mirror of the station and barely recognised the tired face staring back at her. It was the face of someone who had lost what she had over nothing serious. She’ll never look back at that “family” again. Family isn’t meant to turn on you. Family is meant to support you. But, did she really deserve to have a family? Who could want a loud, abrasive girl anyway?

 

Over the next week, she drifted from place to place, anywhere to stay off the streets. A convenience store clerk eventually let her sit in the back alley so long as she didn’t cause trouble. She found ways to stretch what little she had. She bought the cheapest instant noodles, splitting one pack into two meals. Sometimes she’d sip water to trick her stomach into feeling full. When the hunger came in too strong, she’d distract herself by flipping through her choreo notebook under a streetlight, scribbling new ideas in shaky handwriting.

 

Even in the worst conditions, Mira practised. She’d sneak into the empty dance studio’s storage room, just to go over moves in silence. Using gym showers to stay clean so she wouldn't stink during practices. Other nights, she used reflective windows on buildings, watching her silhouette twist and pop under the glow of the streetlights. She wasn’t just fighting to perform well anymore. She was fighting to survive. Nobody in her class knew her struggle. She’s just always been tough…or was she just good at hiding her fragility?

 

By the fifth night, exhaustion was heavy on her body. Her hands trembled as she held her notebook. The business card peeked out between the pages, its crumpled edges straightened over and over again due to worry they wouldn’t take it. She whispered to herself, voice hoarse, “One more night. Just one more night. Hold out, and you’ll make it.”

 

By the time the festival arrived, Mira hadn’t just been practising steps. She had been living with the emotional weight carried with them, everything she lost within a night. She slammed her sneakers against the floor, spun, jumped, dropped, letting the anger, the rejection, and the suffocating feeling of being unwanted fuel every movement.

 

The lights hit Mira’s face as she stepped onto the stage. The crowd was bigger than she’d expected. Cheers and chatter filled the air. She felt the familiar flutter in her stomach, the love of dancing, but this time it was sharper, angrier, more focused.

 

The music kicked in. Her troupe followed her choreography perfectly, but Mira didn’t just execute it. She exploded with passion and anger. Each turn, each pop, each drop carried a drop of frustration, a spark of rage. Her expression was fierce, almost intimidating. The audience leaned in, unable to look away. The other dancers felt her presence too. It was sharper than usual. Nobody could deny that.

 

Sweat streaking her face. The crowd erupted. Mira felt the energy of hundreds of people feeding back into her. It made her feel alive. Like she had something to live for.

---

Rumi never had the luxury of being ordinary.

 

Rumi’s life changed at fourteen.

 

Her mother was a Sunlight Sister. A legendary idol. A woman whose songs still echo through radios after her death had left a daughter behind. To the world, Rumi was supposed to inherit her mother’s greatness effortlessly. But inside, she was just a girl who had lost a mother she would never really know. It was a weight she had no choice but to carry

 

When it came to training, Celine would never talk to her like a child but as a soldier preparing for war.

 

“Get up. You don’t have the option to be average.”

 

“You are your mother’s daughter, you must live up to the people's expectations.”

 

At dawn, Celine would swing open Rumi’s door, jolting her awake. Vocal warmups before the sun even rose, sang songs until her throat was raw and then sang again. Mistakes were corrected, repeated, and drilled into her until they became muscle memory. She couldn’t lag behind.

 

By midday, it was dance class. Ballet foundations first, to carve elegance into her bones. Then, hip-hop, every style she could master, she learned. Hours of sweating until her hair stuck to her face.

 

Evenings belonged to rap and performance. Veteran freestylers would come in and teach her flow. If she stuttered or even faltered, she’d be met with disappointment. She was a part of a bloodline she could never erase. Hunter, never demon.

 

At night, when her body was heavy and her voice raw, Rumi would study recordings of stages, analysing them frame by frame until she understood why one performer lit up the stage while another disappeared into the background. Not just her mother’s, but artists across the generations. With Celine’s sharp commentary. “Watch her footwork. See how he breathes before a high note. Look at her facial expression. She shows no fear. That’s what you need to do.”

 

She learned how to play instruments. How to compose her own songs.

 

By the time she was seventeen, she had broken down so many times she lost count. Bloodied feet from dance rehearsals, tears swallowed in soundproof rooms, nights spent staring at her reflection, wondering if she was just an imitation of a woman she barely got to know.

 

“Perfection is the bare minimum for you.” Celine’s voice stern.

 

And yet… when Rumi peeled off her shoes later to find bruises and cuts on her feet, she saw fresh bandages waiting on her desk. When she dragged herself out of the studio at midnight, a mug of hot tea had been set out. Celine would never admit it, but her love was there.

---

The studio mirrors were fogged up. Rumi’s chest rose and fell in ragged breaths as she stumbled through the last counts of the choreography. Her legs trembled, feet screaming inside her sneakers. She pushed for the final spin, but her knee buckled. She hit the floor hard. Darkness started to cloud her vision.

 

Celine was at her side in seconds. She crouched down, slid a bottle of water into her mouth, and pressed a cool hand to Rumi’s forehead. “You’re overheating.” Her tone was flat, but her eyes gave her away. “Drink. Slowly.”

 

“Practising until you collapse isn’t strength, Rumi. It’s carelessness.”

 

Staff rushed beside Rumi with fans and towels.

 

Rumi swallowed, clutching the bottle. “I can keep going-”

 

“You’ll keep going after you rest.” Celine cut her off.

 

“Please, Celine.”

 

Rumi bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself onto her hands, then her knees. Her body screamed to stop, to rest, but she shook her head. “I can do it again,” she whispered hoarsely. “Restart the music.” Rumi rose unsteadily and forced her body to stand stubbornly. She made it halfway before collapsing again, palms slapping the hardwood. This time she stayed down, panting, her throat tight with frustration.

 

For a long moment, Celine said nothing.

 

“Fainting doesn’t mean anything good because it looks dramatic, Rumi. Sit down and take five or you’ll really kill yourself.”

 

Rumi swallowed hard, blinking back tears. She hated crying in front of her, but Celine was right.

Chapter Text

Zoey tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack as she stared up at the glass building. Sunlight Entertainment. The name alone made her stomach twist.

 

She blew out a shaky breath. “Okay… Zoey, you’ve got this. Just go in, kill it, then go home and eat ramen like nothing happened,” she muttered to herself, earning a side-eye from another nervous girl heading in.

 

The lobby was already packed with applicants. Two hundred and fifty-nine people with hopes and dreams. Zoey swallowed hard as she scanned the sea of people. Some looked polished, perfect even, already idols in the making with their styled hair and coordinated outfits. Others, like her, wore sneakers and raw determination.

 

“Number 74, please head to the audition room.”

 

Her number. Zoey’s heart rate shot up. She wiped her sweaty palms against her jeans, and went through the door.

 

The audition room felt a bit colder. Bright lights, a camera in the corner, and three judges behind a long table. One of them didn’t even look up from their tablet. Zoey forced herself to stand tall anyway.

 

“Alright. Show us what you prepared.”

 

The music started. A heavy beat she’d remixed. Zoey launched straight into her rap, words spitting out sharp and fast. Her American accent made her stand out despite half of the rap being in Korean, which started to feel a bit natural to her. Her delivery carried a confidence she didn’t quite feel. Her body moved into a dance routine that blended complex footwork and body pops at certain words and beats. Her arms sliced the air, every movement timed perfectly to her bars. She never stuttered, not even as she spun and dropped low, her breath control tight from weeks of practice. It’s been two months living in Korea, auditioning over and over. She never lost hope. Every one of her losses was another chance.

 

By the final verse, she put in all her energy, throwing her whole heart into the lines before landing her dance finish clean and sharp. The room stayed silent. The only sound was her own breathing. The judges scribbled notes. One whispered to another. The one with the tablet finally looked up at her, eyes unreadable.

 

“…Thank you, Zoey. We’ll be in touch.”

 

That was it. No applause. No second chance. Just a polite dismissal. Zoey forced herself to bow and step out, but once the door closed behind her, her shoulders slumped. She kept on walking, keeping her head down. She avoided eye contact with the girl who was sitting in the seat beside her bag, saving herself the embarrassment of probably just failing another audition when she really thought she had a chance.

 

“God,” she muttered, pressing a hand to her face. “I hope that was enough.”

 

That’s when a girl brushed past her. Tall, sharp-eyed, hair dyed a bright pink, ripped hoodie sleeves, red sneakers. She didn’t glance at Zoey, didn’t slow her walk, just carried herself like she already knew she belonged there.

 

Zoey watched, unblinking. Damn… she looks cool.

 

The staffer at the door called out, “Number 75. Mira Hong.”

 

Mira stepped inside.

---

P.O.V switch to Mira

 

The room was just as cold as everyone said. The judges sat behind their long table, scribbling, scrolling, barely acknowledging her presence. But Mira didn’t flinch. She rolled her shoulders once, like loosening before a fight, and waited.

 

“Proceed.”

 

The track started with a heavy bass. Her body hit every beat with precision, but it wasn’t just with technique, but also with style and personality. It came with each pop, each stomp, each spin. Her eyes burned into the judges with every turn, her expression fierce, almost daring them to write her off.

 

By the end, she snapped into her finishing pose, hair sticking to her face, sweat already dripping down her jaw. Her breathing was heavy, but her eyes never wavered, staring daggers into the judges.

 

Silence. The judges exchanged looks, not the kind they gave to the average person. This was different.

 

“…Thank you, Mira,” one finally said, tone calm but thoughtful.

 

Mira just gave a nod, turned, and walked out without bowing too deeply. The door shut behind her with a soft thud. She didn’t need to hear their praise. She already knew she had left her mark.

---

Zoey sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop open in front of her. Her fingers drummed nervously on the touchpad as she refreshed her inbox for the tenth time. Nothing. She groaned and flopped backwards against her pillow.

 

Ping

 

Her eyes shot open. A new email.

 

Subject: Results of Your Audition

 

Her pulse spiked as she clicked it open.

 

Congratulations! You have passed into the next stage of auditions. You will receive details regarding orientation and dorm move-in shortly.

 

Zoey gasped, covering her mouth as tears stung her eyes. She read it three times, just to make sure. A shaky laugh left her throat. “I… I did it.”

 

Her phone slipped out of her hand onto the blanket as she sat there, heart soaring, staring at the glowing words that changed everything.

 

Meanwhile, across the city, Mira sat in the corner of a 24-hour laundromat next to an outlet, the hum of machines rattling against the silence. She pulled her cracked phone out of her hoodie pocket and connected to the free Wi-Fi.

 

Her inbox loaded slowly. She sighed, thumb hovering.

 

One new email.

 

Subject: Results of Your Audition

 

Mira opened it, her face unreadable. The same words appeared on the small screen.

 

Congratulations! You have passed into the next stage of auditions.

 

For a long moment, she just stared. Then her lips curled into the smallest, sharpest grin.

 

“Figures,” she muttered under her breath. Not relief. Not tears. Just a rush of vindication. She pocketed the phone, leaned back against the cold plastic chair. Raising her arms above her head, letting out a deep, long yawn.

---

 

Zoey sat stiffly in the company lobby, her leg bouncing from a mix of excitement and fear. The floor was so polished she could almost see her reflection. Banners with “Sunlight Entertainment” hung from the walls, bold and intimidating when you understand how much of a big deal they are in the industry.

 

Seven chairs lined the waiting area. Only seven.

 

Two hundred fifty-nine people auditioned, Zoey thought, gripping her bag tighter. And only seven of us made it? The number rattled in her chest like it was trying to break free. She should’ve felt proud, but instead the pressure pressed harder. What if I don’t belong here?

 

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

 

She recognised it was Mira who walked in first. Her pink hair stood out. She didn’t even look around or sit down, just leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, like she’d already decided she was better than the rest. Zoey’s stomach twisted. Confident. Dangerous.

 

Another girl arrived soon after, a somewhat short but elegant kind of beauty that turned heads immediately, Haneul. She carried herself like she’d been born for the stage. She looks like she stepped straight out of a doll package. She was dressed up nicely, and she looked soft and feminine. Then came Minji, following behind closely, her movements shy but polite. She gave a quick bow to the room before sitting, smoothing her skirt nervously.

 

Ha-eun sauntered in next, headphones hanging around her neck, mouthing lyrics under her breath like she was still in the middle of her audition. She didn’t even glance at anyone else. Her eyes were closed, completely in her own world of rap. Zoey swallowed as Yujin walked in, her yellow sundress making her look like she’d been plucked out of sunlight itself. Even staff paused to look at her. She smiled softly at everyone, and it felt… unfair.

 

The last girl was Hyuna. Confident, sharp-eyed, every step full of purpose. She bowed shortly, her gaze scanning each of them, like she knew their weaknesses already.

 

Seven girls. Out of two hundred fifty-nine.

 

Zoey’s chest tightened. Every single one of them is good. Maybe better than me. If they cut that many people just to get to this point… what are they expecting from us now? They must be strict.

 

The screen at the front flickered on, pulling her out of her thoughts.

 

“Congratulations, contestants,” a voice echoed, calm but commanding. “You are the chosen seven. From this point on, your skills, your character, and your potential will be under constant evaluation. Not all of you will remain until the end. But those who do… will stand on a stage that changes the world.”

 

Zoey exhaled shakily, glancing at the others. Mira smirked like this was all just a warm-up. Hanuel adjusted her posture as if it weren’t already perfect. Yujin glowed without even trying.

 

Seven strangers. Rivals. Maybe teammates.

 

This is really happening, Zoey thought. I’m one of them. I just have to make sure I don’t end up the first to go.

 

For a moment, silence filled the lobby. Seven girls sitting in a row of chairs, each pretending not to be nervous.

 

Then Hanuel leaned forward, and her short black bob bounced. “Okay, so… we’re the chosen seven, right? Out of 259 people. That’s insane. We should at least introduce ourselves!”

 

Beside her, Minji clapped her hands in agreement. “Yes, yes, we can’t just sit here like robots. Let’s be friends, right? I mean… competitors and friends.” She giggled nervously and looked around for approval. It was a little awkward, but it lifted the air a bit. Hanuel nudged her playfully. “I’m Hanuel. Vocalist. I sing all the time. Literally. You’ll probably get sick of my voice before this program is over.”

 

Gosh. Whatever they said totally blew over Zoey’s head a while ago.

 

Minji chimed in quickly, “And I’m Minji. I dance and sing. Hanuel and I actually trained together before, so… yeah, we’re kind of partners-in-crime already.”

 

Zoey studied them both, reading the room instead. Bright, bubbly, already smiling like the stage lights belonged to them. Their energy filled the room, cutting through the heavy silence.

 

Ha-eun smirked from her seat, pulling down her headphones just enough to speak. “Cute. You two can duet while I spit my bars over it.”

 

Hanuel gasped in mock offense. “Ohhh, a rapper! Already sounding confident.”

 

Yujin shifted slightly in her seat, offering a soft smile to ease the tension. “Well, I hope we can all get along. It’s scary enough being chosen… I don’t think fighting will help anyone.”

 

Hyuna’s laugh was short, sharp, and almost sarcastic. “Getting along is fine. But don’t forget, we’re not here to make best friends. We’re here because only a few of us will actually make it.” Her gaze swept across the room like she was already cutting names off a list.

 

Zoey’s pulse picked up. She hadn’t even opened her mouth yet. She hated talking in rooms like this, where every word could be judged. Still, Hanuel’s eyes turned to her expectantly.

 

“And you?” Hanuel asked, smiling warmly. “You haven’t said anything yet. What’s your name?”

 

Zoey hesitated for half a second before forcing herself to answer. “Zoey. I…uh, rap and dance.”

 

Ha-eun’s eyebrows lifted slightly, like she’d already taken note. A rival.

 

Zoey’s stomach churned. Just saying her talents out loud felt like laying her cards on the table. Great. Now I’ve got a target on my back.

 

But Hanuel just smiled brighter. “Cool! We’ll probably all be working together at some point, so… let’s do our best!”

 

Minji nodded enthusiastically, and for a moment, the atmosphere lightened again.

 

Still, Zoey couldn’t shake the tension crawling up her spine. Seven girls. One competition. And already, she could see the rivalries forming.

 

The front doors of the dorm clicked open infront of them, and Zoey felt a weird mix of relief and nerves. It was quiet, too quiet for a building that would soon be packed with trainees. The hall smelled faintly of cleaning supplies and new furniture. It was sterile, like a hospital. A staff member handed them a small stack of keycards.

 

“This will get you into your rooms. Room assignments are final for now. Room one,” she gestured, “Haneul, Zoey, and Minji. Room two… everyone else.”

 

Zoey’s stomach fluttered. She wasn’t sure if the three of them would actually get along, since she was the only foreigner. At least it wasn’t crowded. She glanced at Haneul, who grinned at her like they’d already won some unspoken contest of cuteness. Minji bounced next to her, chattering nonstop about how they could decorate the room.

 

Zoey felt a little overwhelmed. Do I have to pick a side? Or just… exist?

 

After a long tour showing the rooms they’d practice in and some other random ones they’d probably never use Zoey was tired and just wanted to lay down. They walked down the hallway, Mira passed them silently. Zoey caught her eye for a fraction of a second, and Mira just tilted her head and kept moving, a faint smirk on her lips. That girl… always so calm, so untouchable.

 

Their assigned room door loomed ahead. Zoey stepped in first, and the sunlight spilling through the large window made the space look bigger than it was. Two beds already set up, a small desk, and enough closet space to keep them from bumping into each other.

 

Minji immediately went to the closet. “We have so much room! We can put fairy lights here, posters there-oooh! I want to make a little pink corner!”

 

Haneul laughed. “Easy there, Minji. Let’s see what Zoey thinks first.”

 

Zoey dropped her bag on her bed. “Uh… it’s okay?” She wasn’t sure if they’d expect her to decorate or just blend in.

 

Haneul leaned on her bed frame, tilting her head. “I like that about you. Calm. Cool.”

 

Minji rolled her eyes. “You like it? Or you’re scared she’ll outshine us?”

 

Zoey chuckled, though nervously trying to hide the language barrier.

 

Meanwhile, from her dorm, she could hear faint laughter from room two. Mira’s voice wasn’t there. She probably just unpacked and went straight to plotting how to dominate dance class. Hyuna’s laugh cut through first, loud and playful. Yujin and Ha-eun followed, voices blending together.

 

Zoey felt a wave of nerves. Room two sounded like chaos, like a storm brewing, while room one felt… safe, but small.

 

After settling her things, she leaned back on her bed, staring at the window. This is it.

 

Even though she was surrounded by chatter and plans for decorating, Zoey’s thoughts drifted to Mira. That girl didn’t need fairy lights or posters. She just existed, and somehow, that made her seem… unstoppable. Zoey couldn’t decide whether she wanted to befriend her, compete with her, or just run and hide.

 

The dorm had two floors, a common lounge, and a practice room in the basement. They were free to explore, but every corner felt like it would be full of cameras eventually. Zoey’s stomach tightened at the thought, everything they did, every laugh, every move, would be recorded. Nothing would be private. Probably not true because that’s illegal but still.

 

For the first time in a long time, Zoey exhaled and let herself feel a little… home away from home.

---

Evening settled over the dorm, and the sunlight that had warmed the room all day now faded to orange streaks across the walls. Zoey sat on her bed, quietly unpacking her small bag of perfumes on the nightstand. Minji and Haneul were bouncing around, hanging posters and rearranging their little corner of the room like it was a sleepover instead of the start of a career.

 

“So, Zoey,” Minji chirped, leaning against the edge of her bed, “what do you usually do to relax after practice?”

 

Relax. Practice. What do you do. After

 

Zoey shrugged, carefully folding her clothes. “Uh… listen to music. Or write. Sometimes freestyle.” She wasn’t used to explaining herself.

 

Haneul tilted her head, eyes bright. “Freestyle? Like rap?”

 

Zoey nodded. “I—I like to dance too.” She could feel Minji’s eyes on her, full of curiosity, maybe admiration.

 

Minji leaned forward again. “You’re gonna have to teach us some moves sometime!” she said brightly.

 

Teach. Sometime. You’re.

 

Zoey didn’t respond, just shifted slightly, letting the silence linger.

 

Haneul laughed nervously. “She’s… intense. You’ll get used to it, I guess.”

 

Zoey just forced a small smile.

 

The room slowly quieted as everyone started putting their things away. Minji curled up on her bed, scrolling through her phone. Haneul hummed a tune softly. Zoey stayed on the edge of her bed.

Chapter Text

The smell of eggs and rice filled the building’s dining room, and light shone through the blinds as the seven girls gathered for their first breakfast together. Hanuel and Minji were already at the table, laughing at some inside joke, while Yujin poured juice into their glass cups. Hyuna moved like she was at home, plating food for the others without being asked, and Zoey slid into a chair, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

 

Mira sat at the far end of the table, hood pulled over her head, quietly chewing. Her expression was unreadable, as if she didn’t even notice the others’ chatter. But inside, her chest ached with a strange relief.

 

At least I’m not on the streets anymore, she thought, pushing rice around her plate.

 

I don’t have to sleep curled up under bus stops or wonder if I’ll make it through the night. I have a bed. A roof. That’s enough… for now.

 

The others’ voices carried over the clink of spoons.

 

“Do you think training will be crazy?” Hanuel asked, her tone bright.

 

“Of course,” Minji laughed. “I’m just glad we got in at all. From two hundred something people? It’s wild.”

 

Zoey nodded along, half-understanding, half-guessing by tone.

 

It was Yujin who lowered her voice, leaning closer to Minji. “What about her?” She glanced toward Mira.

 

Minji shrugged, whispering but not quietly enough. “She doesn’t even talk to us. I mean, we’re all nervous, but she’s….”

 

Hanuel giggled. “She looks like she’d punch someone if they asked her name.”

 

“Or maybe she just thinks she’s too good for us,” Ha-eun added, smirking.

 

Mira’s chopsticks paused midair. She had heard every word. Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look up. Instead, she shoved the last bite of food into her mouth, stood, and left her bowl in the sink with a quiet clink. No goodbye, no explanation, just the sound of her footsteps fading. People always did that. Judged. Stared. Laughed.

 

Behind her, Minji frowned slightly. “See? Told you. Sheesh.. Think she heard us?”

 

But Mira didn’t care, or at least, that’s what she told herself. Still, as she slipped into the practice room early, stretching in the empty silence, the words clung in the back of her mind. She set her phone on the floor, her thumb hovered over her playlist until she found the track she always used when she needed to think.

 

The beat filled the room. Mira bounced to the rhythm until the beat dropped.

 

She pulled her hood down, exhaled, and let her body move. It wasn’t about proving anything this time. Just dancing. Each turn loosened a knot in her chest. Each step reminded her she wasn’t helpless anymore. For the first time in days, she let herself feel it, gratitude. She smiled ever so slightly, but it wasn’t for just anyone to see.

---

The practice hall was big, with a mirrored wall and another with a glowing sign, Sunlight Entertainment. The seven girls lined up arm's length apart. A trainer stepped forward, clipboard in hand, glasses sliding down her nose. “From today, your schedule begins. Morning dance. Midday vocal. Afternoon rap. Evening fitness. Weekends are not lazy days. This is not just idol training. It is discipline. If you cannot handle it, leave now.”

 

Nobody moved.

 

Her gaze shot across them. “Good. Then let’s see where you stand.”

---

“Five, six, seven, eight!”

 

The seven girls moved as one, their sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. Arms shot out, feet stomped, the choreography fast and demanding.

 

“Hanuel!” The trainer’s voice cut through the music. “This isn’t ballet. Do it right or don’t bother. Start again, we won’t move on until everybody gets it!”

 

Hanuel flinched but did it again.

 

The trainer’s eyes flicked across the formation. “Mira, I like your style, but tone it down. You’re too much.”

 

Mira’s jaw tightened. Her glare in the mirror sharpened. The words dug at her, scraping against her pride. Why should she dim what she was good at?

 

“Zoey! Left foot first, not right! We’re on the fourth count and you’re already lost.”

 

Zoey muttered “Sorry!” under her breath, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

 

The trainer stopped the music mid-beat. The sudden silence made their panting louder. He pointed toward Hyuna.

 

“See this? This is how it’s done. Clean, sharp, no wasted movement. Perfect. That’s the standard.”

 

Hyuna exhaled slowly before muttering a "thank you" and bowing.

 

“Again from the top,” the trainer barked. “No mistakes. Five, six, seven, eight!”

 

The music blasted again. Sweat flew. The mirrors reflected seven different girls, women in the making. Hanuel overanalysing every step she made, Mira trying not to look too big, Zoey fighting to stay in sync, Hyuna steady, and the others somewhere in between.

 

By the end, the trainer clapped once. “Better. But if this is all you’ve got, don’t expect to last long. Rest ten minutes, then repeat until your bodies move before your brains.” The girls collapsed where they stood, gulping down water, the tension from the corrections lingering heavy.

---

The girls sat in a row, backs straight, water bottles clenched like lifelines. The vocal trainer stood at the front of the practice room, arms folded, eyes sharp.

 

“Warm-ups are done. Now we’ll hear your prepared pieces. One at a time, but everyone else must watch, listen, and learn. This isn’t karaoke.”

 

Hanuel stood first, her voice smooth and clear, almost angelic. When she finished, the trainer nodded but didn’t smile.

 

“Pretty tone, beautiful control… but your notes lack power. Flat, not feeling much emotion behind it, but I see the potential.”

 

Hanuel bowed quickly and sat, ears red. Could she really keep up with everyone? Messing up like this over and over.

 

Minji sang next, voice sweet but with shaky breaths between lines. The trainer’s hand shot up mid-verse.

 

“Stop. Breathe from here.” He tapped his diaphragm. “Not your throat. Again.”

 

Minji tried again, stronger this time, and earned a hum of approval.

 

Ha-eun bounced to her feet, confidence in her smile. She’d been on shows before. She was actually scouted after performing "Good Day" by IU. When she stopped, the trainer tilted their head.

 

“Good. Strong energy. But you push too hard, like you’re battling the mic instead of working with it. Learn balance.”

 

Yujin followed. She didn’t mess up, and the room went quiet when she ended.

 

The trainer actually cracked a smile. “Excellent projection. Stable, natural. If you stay consistent, you’ll be a vocal anchor for the group.”

 

Zoey’s turn now. Zoey took her turn nervously, stumbling over Korean phrasing in her pre-chorus. The trainer raised a brow.

 

“Your tone is uh, unique. Your pronunciation, on the other hand? Clean that up, or the audience won’t care about the rest.”

 

Zoey flushed, muttered, “I’ll fix it,” under her breath.

 

Mira sang last before Hyuna, her voice low, surprisingly deep. Not bad, but the trainer didn’t give many comments.

 

Mira shrugged it off, but her clenched fists in her lap said otherwise.

 

Finally, Hyuna stood. Her voice filled the room—clear, emotional, controlled. When she finished, the trainer simply said,

 

“Perfect. Again tomorrow.”

 

The silence that followed was heavier than any applause.

---

The moment the vocal class ended, the trainer clapped sharply. “Break. Fifteen minutes. You guys have rap class after this, don’t be late.”

 

The girls shuffled out into the hallway, some grabbing water, others sliding down to sit against the walls. Their voices, hushed during critiques, now bubbled up nervously. Hanuel let out a long sigh, hugging her water bottle. “I thought I was doing okay, but… I didn’t even realise how weak my high notes were.”

 

Yujin bumped her shoulder lightly. “They weren’t weak, just soft. You’ve got one of the prettiest tones here. You’ll figure out the power part.”

 

Hanuel smiled faintly. “You think so?”

 

“Yeah,” Yujin nodded. “It’s all technique. Nothing you can’t fix.”

 

Minji stretched her legs out with a groan. “At least you didn’t get told to stop mid-song. I wanted to sink into the floor.”

 

“Five minutes!” a staff member barked down the hall.

 

Zoey hopped up and smoothed her hair back nervously. “Okay, rap class… no mess-ups, right?” she muttered in English, half to herself, half to anyone listening.

 

Hanuel tilted her head at Zoey, curiosity in her wide eyes. “Zoey… can I ask a question?”

 

Zoey blinked mid-sip of her water bottle. “Uh… yes?”

 

“You’re… a foreigner, right?” Hanuel asked gently, though her tone was soft in the way only Hanuel could be. “Your Korean sounds… different. Like, kinda…” she hesitated, searching for the word. “…weird.”

 

Zoey froze, the water halfway down her throat. “Weird?” she exclaimed, shocked, her accent sharpeninged around the word.

 

Minji gasped and smacked Hanuel’s shoulder lightly. “That’s rude!”

 

Hanuel’s cheeks flushed pink. “I didn’t mean it badly! It’s just… noticeable. Different.”

 

Zoey set her bottle down slowly, forcing a little laugh even though her chest pinched tight. “Yeah… different. I am from… so… it’s.”

 

‘Weird’ though? Ouch.

 

The others didn’t catch it, but Minji leaned forward, curious. “Where are you from?”

 

“Burbank in America”, Zoey answered, sitting cross-legged again. She fidgeted with the ends of her hair.

 

“I came here… for this. But, the dream.” She was caught up in her own words.

 

“Burbank…” Yujin repeated softly, like the word tasted foreign in her mouth. “That’s… far.”

 

“Very far,” Zoey confirmed with a small grin.

 

Across the hall, Mira, eyes locked on the floor, heard every word. Weird, huh? The corner of her mouth tugged into a slight frown. She understood that sting better than she wanted to admit.

 

The staff’s voice cut through the air: “Two minutes! Rap class in Studio B.”

 

Everyone scrambled, collecting bottles and towels. Zoey dusted off her leggings, muttering under her breath in English again. “Okay, let’s not screw this one up.”

 

Mira finally lifted her eyes, meeting Zoey’s for a split second across the hallway. Then she looked away like nothing happened, but there was something there, recognition.

 

She peeked at Zoey again, from the corner of her eye. The other girl was fiddling nervously with her hair, still muttering under her breath. Mira couldn’t tell if it was cute or annoying. Probably a little of both.

---

The door to Studio B slid open, and the bass from the sound system hit them immediately. The girls filed in, dropping water bottles and stretching in the corner of the room. Mira stood at the back, arms crossed, scanning the group. Zoey trailed behind, nose in her notebook, reading old notes.

 

“Alright, everyone,” the trainer’s voice cut through the room. “Today we’ll run through your rap sections together. Focus on flow and delivery. Mistakes matter. Show me who can survive in a group and who’s just a solo act waiting to happen.”

 

The girls nodded, tension thick in the air. Mira rolled her shoulders once, loosening herself, already plotting how to make this class work in her favour. Zoey sat next to her, muttering quietly to herself in English as she flipped through lyrics. Mira glanced down, eyebrow raised. Why is she panicking so much?

 

The trainer started the track. Heavy beat, quick tempo. Everyone moved into formation.

 

Hanuel kicked off, her movements precise but careful not to end up being too soft again.

 

“Hanuel,” the trainer called sharply, “Flat. Boring. Lack of delivery. Do better”

 

Hanuel swallowed but nodded, adjusting her posture, pushing her arms out more aggressively.

 

Next, Mira stepped up with her section, head tilted just slightly, expression calm. She could handle it.

 

“Good flow and nice attitude, but use your pretty face a bit more. We aren’t just reciting the words, right?” Mira cringed at the pretty face but sat back down without a fight.

 

Zoey stepped up in the rotation. She exhaled, let the beat guide her. The room seemed to shrink around her, all eyes on her as her words poured out. Every syllable landed exactly where it needed to.

 

The trainer blinked. “Zoey, flawless. Timing, articulation… You understand this better than anyone here. Listen to your partners, lead them, teach them.”

 

Hyuna grinned as she performed after Zoey, her confidence undeniable. “Good, confident. Push harder on projection, don’t let your personality hide.”

 

Meanwhile, Mira’s jaw clenched slightly. Thinking about Zoey moves with the beat, commanding flow, it was both infuriating and inspiring at once. She shoved her hands into her hoodie pocket as she thought.

 

By the end, the trainer clapped once, sharp and approving. “Passable, but individually, you're all improving minute by minute.”

 

Zoey let out a quiet breath, watching Mira fold her arms. She considered saying something encouraging, but Mira didn’t look like she wanted it. So she didn’t. Not yet.

 

The fitness class was brutal. Planks, squats, lunges, push-ups, every form of torture known to man. They pushed their bodies to the edge, muscles trembling, lungs gasping for air. By the end of the hour, every girl was drenched in sweat, panting, muscles aching. The trainer simply clapped his hands and dismissed them. “Good. Rest. Then evaluations.”

---

Mira was the last to go up. She walked onto the floor like it was her own stage. The music hit, sharp and fast, and she responded in every step. Precise, every turn clean, every gesture perfectly timed. She moved like she owned the space, like the room was too small for her, but her expression was neutral, almost unreadable.

 

The trainer’s eyes narrowed, following her every motion. “Your dance technique is excellent. Very strong. You have control of some of these girls don’t even know it exists.”

 

Another trainer leaned forward. “It’s distinct.”

 

Mira’s jaw tightened. She gave a slow nod, absorbing it silently. She didn’t need encouragement from them. She knew what she was capable of doing.

 

A third voice cut in, sharper this time, Celine herself. “Stage presence. Your movements are flawless, but your face doesn’t sell it. It reads as bored. Dance is more than steps. Make us feel what you feel when you dance, even if you don’t want to show it.”

 

Mira’s eyes flicked down for a fraction of a second, a look of irritation flashing across her usually composed face. She clenched her fists, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her emotions. She had her way of expressing herself. She didn’t bow. She just walked off.

---

The building was still barely lit when the girls’ alarms went off, one by one.They had to wake up earlier since Celine had something extra planned. Loud yawns, shuffling slippers, and the faint hum of the coffee machine filled the dining hall. Nobody expected what was waiting for them on the practice hall wall when they walked out. A freshly pinned chart.

 

Seven names. Three categories. Tiers.

 

Zoey squinted at the paper first, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Oh…” she muttered, stepping closer. The others crowded around her, hair messy, pajamas still clinging to them, the early morning light making their faces pale.

 

Dance Rankings
Tier 1: Mira, Hyuna, Minji
Tier 2: Zoey, Ha-eun
Tier 3: Yujin, Haneul

Rap Rankings
Tier 1: Zoey, Hyuna, Ha-eun
Tier 2: Mira, Yujin
Tier 3: Haneul, Minji

Vocal Rankings
Tier 1: Hyuna, Yujin
Tier 2: Haneul, Minji, Ha-eun, Mira
Tier 3: Zoey

 

There was a pause. The only sound came from Mira clicking her tongue and brushing past them, though her eyes had flickered over her spot in Tier 1 for dance.

 

Haneul’s face crumbled as she read the chart again and again. Tier 3 in dance. Tier 3 in rap. Mid-tier in vocals. Her voice caught in her throat. “I’m… I’m the weakest one here.” She laughed softly, but it was hollow. “They’ll cut me first. Won’t they?”

 

Minji quickly grabbed her arm. “No, no, don’t say that. You’re better than you think. Rankings don’t mean everything, right?” She forced a smile, though her own name sitting in Tier 3 for rap didn’t make her feel much better.

 

Zoey’s eyes landed on her own results: Tier 1 in rap, Tier 2 in dance, but bottom in vocals. Her stomach twisted. “Vocal Tier 3…” she whispered. It was expected. She focused more on rap than anything, so her vocals weren’t anything special, but seeing it in ink stung worse than hearing any trainer’s critique.

 

Hyuna pushed herself off the wall and looked around at the group. The others were still staring at the chart like it was a death sentence, shoulders slumping, lips pressed tight.

 

“Hey,” she said, her voice steady, cutting through the tension. They all turned to her. “These rankings aren’t permanent. They’re just where we are right now. That means we have somewhere to grow from.”

 

Haneul blinked at her, eyes still glassy. “But I’m at the bottom… in almost everything.”

 

Hyuna shook her head. “That just means you have the most room to prove them wrong. You’ve got a good voice, Haneul. Stronger than my own in unique ways. If you work harder, no one will remember this chart.”

 

Minji nodded slowly, squeezing Haneul’s hand. “She’s right. It’s just the beginning.”

 

Zoey looked down at her own name in the bottom tier for vocals and muttered to herself.

 

Hyuna smiled at her. “You’re Tier 1 in rap for a reason, Zoey. You dominate where it matters. And vocals can be trained. You just need time.”

 

Her calm confidence seeped into the group, like she was anchoring them all. “Listen, we’re here because we were chosen out of hundreds. That means every single one of us has something the judges believe in. So let’s stop looking at what we’re missing and start working with what we’ve got.”

 

Hyuna clapped her hands once, breaking the heavy mood. “Now, come on. Breakfast is getting cold, and we’ll need all the energy we can get.”

Chapter Text

The girls filed back into the main practice hall, the rankings chart still buzzing in the back of their minds. But Celine was already waiting at the front, clipboard tucked under her arm, a sleek black table of folded jackets beside her. Her expression was sharp, like she already knew what they were thinking.

 

“Good morning,” she began. Out of respect, the girls repeated.

 

“You’ve most likely seen your current positions, so you know where you stand.”

 

“Some of you are happy. Some of you are not. Categories will show your strength. These are not final. You can climb. You can fall. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Because this morning we start something new.”

 

The girls straightened their backs instinctively.

 

She gestured, and her assistant held a jacket up from the table.

 

“From today, you are not just simple trainees. You are part of a group. And every group needs an identity. Signature colours. You will wear these through training and evaluations. Come up and take your jacket with your name.”

 

Haneul was called first. She hurried forward, bowing twice before accepting the folded jacket from the assistant. Purple stripes cut across the black fabric, her name stitched neatly over the heart. Her lips parted in awe as she slipped it on.

 

Next came Hyuna. The assistant lifted a jacket streaked with bold orange, and Hyuna stepped forward. She bowed deeply before slipping the jacket over her shoulders. It fit her perfectly, warm, strong, confident. It wasn’t hard not to see her as the natural leader.

 

Zoey’s name was called. She jogged forward, her eyes flickering curiously at the garment. A stripe of vivid blue ran across the chest. “Cool,” she whispered in English before catching herself and mumbling a thank you in Korean. She tugged the zipper halfway up before walking back to the other girls.

 

When Mira stepped forward, the hall seemed to still. Her jacket wore a sharp, threatening red streak. The moment she finished adjusting it over her shoulders, she stuffed her hands into her pockets.

 

Minji skipped up when her turn came. Her jacket carried soft pink stripes, cheerful and inviting. “It’s so pretty,” she whispered, twirling once before carrying on. Yujin walked forward next. Her jacket was trimmed with bright yellow, bright but not overwhelming. She bowed low before slipping it on.

 

Last was Ha-eun. She bounced up eagerly, clapping when she saw the gleaming green streaks across hers. “I love it!” she blurted without hesitation, ignoring the scolding look from Celine.

 

The girls looked at each other in their new colours, the hall suddenly brighter, less like a sterile hall and more like something fun had just begun. The girls filed into the main practice room one by one after Celine.

 

“Now,” Celine said, folding her arms. “We’ve spent our first day drilling techniques and evaluating your starting level. However, I want to see who you are outside of choreography and scales. We’ll start with something simple with introductions. Think of it like a school setting.”

 

The girls formed a loose circle. One by one, they stood, said their names, ages, and a fact about themselves.

 

Hyuna went first, smiling widely. “I’m Hyuna, seventeen, and I’ve been training since I was seven.” The room shifted slightly in shock at Hyuna’s words.

 

Ha-eun’s eyebrows shot up. “Ten years?” she whispered under her breath, half in awe, half in disbelief. Minji let out a soft laugh, clapping once. “No wonder you’re Tier 1 in everything. You’re basically a pro already.” Yujin’s expression softened with admiration. “It shows.”

 

Minji went next after the conversation died down. “I’m Minji, seventeen, but I’m turning eighteen this year. I’m also pretty athletic, but blind. I actually wear glasses.”

 

“That explains your squinting. You look like a grandma, not necessarily in a bad way, it’s cute.” Ha-eun said, earning a couple of giggles.

 

Yujin followed, brushing hair behind her ear. “I’m Yujin, sixteen, and I have an identical twin.”

 

The room lit up instantly with chatter.

 

Minji’s eyes widened like a child’s. “An identical twin? So there’s another you out there walking around?!” She clapped her hands together, nearly jumping euntheusiastically. Hyuna cracked a smile, shaking her head jokingly.

 

“…One of you is already enough trouble.” Hyuna chuckled warmly, giving Yujin a nod. “That’s really interesting, though. Twins always have a special bond. I would know.”

 

The girls all softened at that, and the playful atmosphere lingered as they waited for the next introduction, turning to Mira.

 

Her gaze moved up, meeting their stares for just a second before narrowing. “…What?” she muttered, voice low and flat.

 

Hanuel, still buzzing from the twin talk, leaned forward carefully. “Your turn? We’re all sharing…”

 

Mira’s jaw tightened. She leaned, backing away from Hanuel, exhaled, then shook her head. “Pass.”

 

A couple of the girls blinked, unsure if she was joking. When no smile followed, an awkward silence spread between them. Zoey tilted her head, brow furrowed. “You… won’t talk?”

 

Mira shrugged, eyes on the floor. “No.”

 

Celine, who had been watching carefully, stepped in before the tension grew heavier. Her voice was cool but firm. “If Mira doesn’t want to share right now, we move on.”

 

The girls nodded slowly, though awkwardness lingered.

 

"Zoey, eighteen, I've been writing songs since I was twelve."

None of them reacted as loudly as they had to Hyuna or Yujin. Hyuna leaned back, eyebrows raised. “Twelve? That’s… actually impressive,” she said, starting up a conversation. Yujin gave her a small, approving nod. “Respect. That takes dedication.”

"Haneul, eighteen, I can do math in my head really fast."

 

Hyuna leaned forward, grinning. “Alright, Haneul, quick math. What’s 47 times 36?”

 

Haneul blinked once. “1,692.”

 

Yujin clapped softly. “That’s insane. And accurate too.” putting the equation into her calculator.

 

Hyuna tilted her head, impressed. “Okay… I see your talent now.”

 

Celine clapped once. “Good. Now, play some icebreaker games.”

 

The staff led them through team games like charades, 4 corners, and even a game where they had to shout things based on the topic without losing tempo. The laughter came easier, walls breaking little by little. Even Mira cracked a grin when Zoey shouted “banana milk!” in broken Korean as a guess.

---

Celine’s tone shifted. “Fun aside. Next, we begin a new study. Stage presence and star potential. Believe it or not, charisma can be taught. You will all be judged not only on what you do, but on how you make people feel while you do it.”

 

The girls went still, taking notes as Celine outlined the basics, eye contact, expressions, and how to draw attention even in the back row. Also giving criticism and praise on what she observed already. She promised full lessons would begin the following week.

 

Finally, she set her clipboard down. “Before we finish, we need to talk about boundaries and expectations.”

 

Her voice carried authority. “Curfew is midnight. No phones during class. No sneaking out. You’ll get two days a month for personal time. Team bonding is encouraged. We plan on arranging outings for that. Disrespect or selfishness will not be tolerated. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” the girls echoed, some louder than others.

 

“Good. Then we’ll end with a short interview, individually. Nothing too formal, just what you want and expect from this program. Hyuna stays, everyone else leaves.”

 

The girls shifted quietly out in the hallway, giving Hyuna a private moment.

 

The practice room felt quieter without the other six, their footsteps fading down the hallway. Hyuna stood in the centre of the room, adjusting her orange jacket slightly.

 

Celine stepped forward, clipboard in hand, her sharp gaze softening slightly. “Hyuna, I want to hear from you. What do you hope to gain from this program? Be honest.”

 

Hyuna exhaled, shoulders straightening. “I want to grow as a performer. I’ve trained since I was seven, but I’ve never really had a chance to push myself in a real team environment. I expect this program to challenge me, to help me become more versatile, and to teach me how to lead without losing my style.”

 

Celine nodded, jotting something down. “And what about your vision for the group? How do you see yourself contributing?”

 

Hyuna smiled faintly, a spark of confidence in her amber-brown eyes. “I want to be someone the others can rely on, setting a good example, encouraging them when they doubt themselves. I hope my energy helps everyone feel like they belong, even when things get tough,” she said, moving back her long, brown hair.

 

Celine tilted her head slightly, chin up. “Good. Leadership isn’t just about being in front. It’s about recognising strengths in others. Remember that. Now, I’ll call in the next trainee shortly, but take a moment to breathe before.”

 

Hyuna nodded, folding her hands calmly, ready for the challenges ahead. She stepped out of the room, bowing once before calling in Zoey.

 

The hall felt emptier now, the lingering echo of Hyuna’s words fading. Zoey stepped in, clutching her notebook to her chest, blue jacket hanging loosely over her shoulders now. Her hands fiddled with the zipper as she looked at Celine, trying to appear calm, though her pulse quickened.

 

“Zoey,” Celine began, voice steady, “let’s hear from you. What are your goals for this program?”

 

Goals. Goals. Goals

 

Zoey took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “I… I want to perform in a group. I’ve written songs and rapped for a while, but I’ve worked alone. I want to learn to… with people on stage and be friendly with fans.”

 

Celine nodded, tilting her head. “And what about your personal expectations? Any challenges you’re hoping to overcome?”

 

Challenge. Expectations.

 

Zoey’s fingers tightened on her notebook. “Pronunciation… Korean… I want to… uh, normal, not... And… I want to be on stage… good.” She glanced briefly at the mirrored wall, seeing herself, wondering, then looked back at Celine.

 

Celine’s eyes softened. “Good. Recognising your own gaps is the first step to closing them. And stage presence… it comes from knowing what you want the audience to feel, not just executing steps or words.”

 

Zoey exhaled, a small smile breaking through her nervousness. “Understand.”

 

“Excellent. Take a moment, then let the next trainee in.”

 

Zoey nodded, stepping aside, her mind already racing. Her blue jacket felt heavier somehow, like a responsibility she hadn’t realised she carried.

 

The hallway was quiet now, almost too quiet. Zoey gestured for Mira to go in. Mira stepped in, her red jacket draped over one arm and falling off on the other.

 

Celine folded her hands neatly, her voice even. “Mira, tell me what you hope to get from this program.”

 

Mira shrugged. “I originally just wanted to dance. Maybe do more with myself performance-wise.”

 

Celine raised an eyebrow. “And personally? Is there anything you hope to achieve beyond skills?”

 

Mira’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No. I’m not here to look for friends if that’s the answer you want.”

 

Celine nodded slowly, scribbling a note on her clipboard. “Understood,” Celine said quietly. “Thank you, Mira. Step out.”

---

The dorm room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner filling the air. Zoey sat cross-legged on her bed, a pen hovering over her notebook, fingers tapping lightly against the page. She exhaled slowly, trying to untangle the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in her head.

 

“Day two survived. It’s only been two days living and practising here, but I want every day to be like this. We played games and had proper introductions. Dance class was okay, I got a little praise from our instructor, so I think I am improving. Rap is good as usual. I helped Haneul and Minji today with rap. Vocals need work, but Hyuna and Yujin helped. Having two of the other girls teach me makes me feel like a special case. Also, Mira made the introductions SUPERRRR awkward. I wonder if she’s a shy person or a nonchalant dreadhead. Also, I like my roommates. Minji is energetic like me, but I don’t understand what she says sometimes cuz she talks fast. Haneul is really cute and bubbly. She only really talks to Minji and me, but we’re roomies, so that explains it.”

 

Zoey wrote like crazy, letting her thoughts spill onto the page. Her handwriting curved and slanted messily.

 

“Talking about the people here, Hyuna is like really, really cool. Like she’s good at everything and she isn’t self-absorbed.”
.
.
.
.
Minutes passed, the page filling up with notes, doodles, song lyrics, and reminders to herself. Finally, she snapped the notebook shut, tucked it under her arm, and stood, slipping into her sneakers. She was going to the practice room to try some of the techniques she was taught. Hyuna told her she had a good range and should continue to practice.

 

As she approached the corner of the hall leading to the dance studio, she froze. Through the crack of the door, she saw Mira.

 

Mira was in the centre of the room, headphones in, moving with precision. Her eyes were fixed on the mirror, yet there was something different. It wasn’t just her usual dance and get it over with. Zoey caught a subtle shift of expression as if she was testing herself, trying to make the mirror feel the intensity of her presence. Then she stopped.

 

Zoey’s stomach twisted.

 

Mira picked up her phone, clearly watching something. Then she let out a sigh of annoyance, throwing her head back before starting again.

 

Then Mira paused mid-spin, head looking towards the door as if she had sensed her. Her expression changed for a split second. She had totally given Zoey a dirty look. Mira’s hand shot up, signalling her to leave. Her eyes narrowed, her face scrunching in disgust.

 

Zoey stepped in, softly closing the door behind her. Mira’s eyes shot to her again, annoyance clear, and she paused mid-motion. Zoey offered a small, friendly smile with a bow. “I… won’t get in your way.” in English.

 

Zoey started softly, mumbling her lines under her breath as her sneakers squeaked lightly against the floor. The beat in her earbuds pushed her words, spilling out with ease. Her flow was smooth, confident. The years of practice were evident.

 

However, her gaze couldn’t help but wander to Mira’s reflection. Zoey’s lips tugged into a small smile. She’s good. Too good. Her eyes lingered for maybe too long, and suddenly she managed to trip over her own foot and hit the floor.

 

“Ah shit…” Zoey hissed, sitting up quickly.

 

Mira had already stopped, pulling her headphones to her neck, looking down at Zoey with a raised brow. “...Seriously?”

 

Zoey scrambled up, brushing off her sweatpants. “I-I wasn’t-uh-” she stammered, her Korean crumbling. “Distracted…distracted.”

 

Mira crossed her arms, unimpressed. “By what? You?”

 

Zoey bit her lip, trying not to laugh nervously. “No, by you,” she blurted, switching to English without realising. “Because you’re really good.”

 

Mira just sighed through her nose. “You should watch your footwork,” she muttered.

 

Zoey’s smile faltered. She just nodded and returned to her corner, putting her earbuds in. Her ankle gave a little sting, but she chose to ignore it. She hadn’t fallen in practice in years. So to her, this was a one-off thing.

---

When the clock finally struck midnight, Zoey collapsed against the wall, sweat dripping down her temple. “I should… probably stop before I break something else,” she muttered with a tired grin.

 

“You always practice this late?” she asked Mira, voice soft.

 

Mira didn’t look at her. “I practice when I want.”

 

“…Right.” Zoey bit her lip. Her ankle still stung, even worse now because of dancing on it.

 

“Are you…okay?”

 

Zoey shifted, rubbing at her ankle through the fabric of her leggings. Her grin wavered, but she forced it back into place. “Yeah. Fine. Sleep and wake up good.”

 

Mira finally turned her head, eyes narrowing. “You’re hurt.” It wasn’t a question.

 

Zoey waved a hand dismissively. “It’s ok.” She chuckled nervously.

 

Mira didn’t laugh. “Idiot,” she muttered under her breath, grabbing her arm. “If you’re injured, you shouldn’t push it.”

 

Zoey’s face fell at the bluntness, but beneath it she thought she heard… concern? Maybe.

 

“Ice”, Mira muttered finally, leaving the room in a hurry. Zoey blinked, frozen in place as the door swung shut behind Mira. The room suddenly felt twice as big without her there.

 

Zoey exhaled a shaky laugh and let her head thunk back against the wall. “She really called me an idiot,”

 

Thinking about following Mira, her ankle punished her by pulsing in protest when she tried to stand. Zoey leaned back against the mirror, biting her lip. She’ll come back, right?

 

Her heart beat faster than it should for just waiting on someone who clearly couldn’t stand her. But something about the way Mira had grabbed her arm. It wasn’t rough, but more with concern.

 

Zoey stayed there. Minutes ticked by. The building was too quiet. She almost gave up, ready to laugh at herself for being so stupid, when she heard footsteps.

 

Mira’s silhouette appeared at the doorway, a towel-wrapped ice pack in hand. Looking for Zoey, still by the mirror.

 

Their eyes met. Neither of them moved. The hallway light caught Mira’s features, the sharp line of her jaw, the guarded set of her eyes. Zoey felt her breath hitch, sudden and stupid. She forced herself to look away, scratching at her hair.

 

Mira stepped closer, and closer still, until Zoey could feel her presence right there in front of her. Mira held out the ice pack without a word. Zoey took it carefully, their fingers brushing for just a second longer than necessary. She looked up again, wrong move. Mira’s gaze locked with hers.

 

The silence stretched, charged, until Zoey finally chuckled softly, breaking it. “Thanks,” in English.

 

Mira clicked her tongue, tearing her eyes away as her ears went faintly pink. “You’ve been speaking a lot of English. Also, your Korean grammar is off.”

 

Zoey blinked, caught off guard. “Huh? Oh-sorry.” She shifted the ice pack awkwardly in her hands. “I, um… when I get nervous or excited, it just… slips out.”

 

Mira’s gaze flicked back to her, sharp but curious. “I don’t understand it at all. Don’t speak to me unless it’s in Korean.”

 

Zoey laughed softly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, do I sound weird to you?”

 

Mira tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. For a second, Zoey thought she was about to say she was weird.

 

“Don’t be stupid.”

 

But this time, Zoey caught the tiniest tug at the corner of her lips, like Mira was holding back a smile. She looked cute doing it. Soft, it was a crack in her facade.

 

“You’re nice.”

 

“You talk a lot.”

 

“I get that.”

 

“At least you know.”

Chapter Text

The dining hall was alive with clinking spoons and quiet chatter, the smell of rice and miso soup filling the air. The girls were spread around the long table, jackets draped lazily over their chairs.

 

Zoey sat across from Mira, fiddling with her chopsticks while sneaking glances over the rim of her bowl. Mira was eating steadily, her expression blank as always, like she wasn’t aware anyone else was there.

 

Until Zoey broke the silence.

 

“You’re very different when you’re not being mean,” Zoey said, pointing her chopsticks in Mira’s direction.

 

Mira’s head snapped up, eyes sharp, though her cheeks betrayed her by flushing pink. “Shut up.”

 

Zoey laughed, too bright, too quick. “Okay, okay. I’ll be quiet.” She pressed her lips together dramatically, miming zipping them.

 

Minji nearly choked on her rice. “Wait…since when do you two talk?”

 

Ha-eun giggled, nudging Yujin. “Did something happen?”

 

Yujin tilted her head, studying Mira with curious eyes. “What happened?”

 

Mira stabbed at her food, refusing to look up. “Nothing happened.”

 

Zoey’s smile widened “She’s very nice, truly, that’s all.”

 

Hyuna smirked, shaking her head slowly. “Not so tough.”

 

The teasing laughter spread around the table, the girls whispering, exchanging knowing looks. Mira, ears red, shovelled another bite of rice into her mouth like she could disappear into it.

 

Zoey laughed with the others, smug. She didn’t care that Mira was glaring at her from across the table.

 

The girls were still giggling when Celine’s heels clicked against the hardwood floor. The chatter died instantly.

 

“Good morning, everyone,” Celine said, arms crossed, eyes scanning the group. “I hope you’re all keeping up with your morning routines. Breakfast is not just about eating, it’s about preparing for the day mentally as well.”

 

Hyuna straightened, eyes glinting, while Zoey tried to stop smiling, not to grin too widely, thinking about earlier.

 

“And,” Celine continued, softer now, “I wanted to mention your first team outing. We’re planning something small, just a casual activity for bonding, bowling, lunch, maybe karaoke. It’s important you understand what it’s like to work as a group outside the studio.”

 

The girls exchanged glances, some whispering excitedly.

 

Minji jumped in eagerly. “Ooh, can we pick songs together? Maybe do duets?”

 

“I call dibs on Minji”, Hanuel said, raising her hand high.

 

“Ha-eun is mine”, Yujin chimed in.

 

Zoey stole a glance at Mira and saw her staring. Mira looked away immediately, poking at her food like she hadn’t been caught. Zoey grinned internally. Zoey’s gaze moved toward Hyuna, who was quietly eating her breakfast. She looked a little… out of place, not joining the small clusters of chatter that were forming.

 

“Hey,” Zoey poked Mira lightly, nodding toward Hyuna. “She’s alone.”

 

Mira followed her glance, frowning just slightly. “So?”

 

“It’s the first trip? She needs a group.” Zoey said softly, tilting her head. “It’s awkward alone.”

 

Mira’s fork paused mid-bite. She glanced at Zoey, then back at Hyuna. “I’m not doing it,” she muttered flatly.

 

Zoey raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly. “Maybe… I could…we could ask her?”

 

Hyuna’s amber eyes caught Zoey’s, and she gave a small, grateful smile. “I can hear you. Thanks…” she admitted, voice quiet but warm.

 

Zoey shrugged casually, hiding her soft smile. “It’s fine. First times can be awkward.”

 

Mira huffed softly, clearly listening in. “You’re overthinking it,” she muttered. But her hand idly fiddled, betraying a hint of curiosity about the plans Zoey had started to outline.

 

“That’s my thing.”

 

Zoey gave Hyuna another small smile before returning to her soup. The exchange was quick, but Mira caught it. She stabbed a piece of kimchi harder than necessary, chopsticks clicking against the bowl.

 

Zoey leaned in a little, chin resting in her hand as if she were perfectly at ease. “See? Not hard to help someone.”

---

The conversation about the outing carried into the afternoon. By the time practice wrapped up, the girls were still chatting about what groups they’d form, what songs they might sing at karaoke, and who would win at bowling.

 

Zoey was tying her sneakers when Hyuna walked by, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Hey, Zoey… do you want to team up for bowling? I’m not really good, but maybe it’ll be fun.”

 

Zoey smiled immediately. “Yeah, of course,” in English while giving a thumbs up.

 

From across the room, Mira’s head snapped up. She hadn’t planned on asking anyone. She didn’t care about games, or so she told herself. But watching Hyuna snag Zoey first made something twist in her chest.

 

Zoey noticed Mira looking and lifted a hand to wave. “Hey, Mira. Join us. Three’s more than two, right?”

 

Mira blinked, caught off guard. Her first instinct was to say no, to brush it off. But then Hyuna gave her a soft, welcoming smile, and Zoey’s eyes were practically shining with expectation. Against her better judgment, she muttered, “...Fine.”

 

Zoey clapped her hands together. “Perfect!”

 

Hyuna laughed gently. “Guess we’ll be unstoppable.”

 

Mira didn’t respond. She told herself it didn’t matter. It was just a stupid game. But deep down, she hated how easily Hyuna had slipped to Zoey’s side.

 

As the girls filed out of the studio, Zoey jogged to catch up with Mira, nudging her shoulder playfully. “Look, it won’t be bad.”

 

Mira gave her a side-eye, muttering low so only Zoey could hear: “Just don’t think I joined because of you. I’m not looking to be friends with you.”

---

The bowling alley glowed with neon lights, the hum of music and chatter filling the air. Shoes squeaked against polished floors, and the girls crowded around the counter, trading in sneakers for rental shoes.

 

“Lane six, that’s us!” Minji called, pointing as the group split into groups.

 

Zoey laced her shoes quickly. “This will be fun,” she laughed.

 

Hyuna smiled, calm and easy as always. “Except we’re competing.”

 

Mira slouched into her seat at their lane, arms crossed. She didn’t want to come, but now that she was here, she wasn’t about to be left in the background.

 

Zoey went first, stepping up to the lane. Her form was terrible. The ball clunked loudly onto the wood before rolling down the lane. She was excited anyway when she knocked down five pins. Hyuna laughed warmly, clapping her hands. “Good start.”

 

Hyuna chuckled softly, shaking her head. She picked up her ball next, stepping gracefully to the line. Her throw was smooth and practised. Eight pins fell with a satisfying crash.

 

Zoey’s jaw dropped. “Okay, okay, cool.”

 

Mira didn’t react, just picked up her ball and walked to the line. Her movements were steady, precise. With a smooth release, the ball curved neatly into the pocket and sent all ten pins crashing down.

 

Strike.

 

She turned back without a word, slipping past Zoey’s wide-eyed stare like it was nothing.

 

Zoey’s eyes widened, impressed. “No way? first try?” in English.

 

Hyuna clapped politely. “That was really good.”

 

Mira only nodded, but her eyes flickered to Zoey, who was still looking impressed, which made Mira’s chest swell with quiet satisfaction.

 

As the game went on, Zoey’s balls veered off-centre, Hyuna stayed consistent, and Mira dominated the game. Every time Zoey cheered for her, her ears betrayed her with a faint blush.

 

At one point, Zoey bent over laughing after tripping on her throw, almost falling onto the lane. Hyuna grabbed her arm quickly, steadying her.

 

“Careful,” Hyuna said, smiling gently.

 

Zoey grinned sheepishly. “Thanks.”

 

From the bench, Mira’s jaw clenched. She looked away quickly, she didn’t want to admit it yet.

 

Near the end, Hyuna leaned over to Zoey, murmuring, “We should do karaoke together too. I think our voices will blend nicely.”

 

Zoey lit up. “Yes! That’s perfect.”

---

Soon the group was piling into a neon-lit karaoke room down the hall. The walls glowed with soft purples and blues, microphones scattered across the low table, along with plates of snacks.

 

Hyuna settled comfortably on the couch beside Zoey, flipping through the songbook. “Do you want to start with something upbeat?” Hyuna asked.

 

Zoey leaned closer to Hyuna, scanning the titles. “This one?” She pointed eagerly.

 

Hyuna smiled. “Perfect.”

 

They queued the track, and as the intro filled the room, Zoey and Hyuna shared a mic, leaning together as they sang. Their voices blended surprisingly well, Hyuna’s smooth tone balancing Zoey’s brighter pitch.

 

The other girls clapped along, laughing and cheering. Mira sat stiffly at the end of the couch, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the screen but not really watching, just zoning out.

 

When the song ended, Zoey turned, face flushed with excitement. “Mira, sing with me!”

 

The room shifted toward Mira. She blinked, caught off guard, but before she could answer, Hyuna chimed in lightly, “Or we can do a trio next.”

 

Zoey’s smile widened.

 

Mira hesitated, pulse quickening. She wanted to say no.

 

“…Fine,” she muttered at last.

---

Bonus:

 

Zoey sat cross-legged on her bed, the notebook balanced on her knees. The dorm room was quiet, just the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional creak of the building settling. She flipped open to a fresh page, pencil hovering, unsure where to start.

 

Stage presence… she muttered under her breath, scribbling a few bullet points: facial expressionss, engage audience, posture…

 

Her gaze drifted to the mirror across the room, and without thinking, she started sketching. Not her own reflection, not Haneul’s or Minji’s playful expressions, but Mira’s. The sharp lines of her jaw, the way her arms moved when she danced, and how her eyes focused intently on her reflection. Zoey’s hand moved almost of its own accord, shading in her signature red jacket stripes.

 

She paused, tapping her pencil against the page. Then she scribbled more notes:

 

Every few lines, she lifted her head, scanning the hallway through the slats of the blinds, half-expecting Mira to appear at the doorway. She wasn’t sure why she was imagining that. Maybe because of the whole ice pack interaction, which made Mira appear less threatening.

 

Zoey shook her head, chuckling quietly. Focus, she muttered, turning back to the notebook. But her pencil still lingered near the small sketch of Mira.

Chapter Text

The mirrors along the walls reflected seven tired faces sprawled on the floor, stretching or fiddling with water bottles. Sweat clung to Zoey’s shirt, her notebook open on her lap. She’d been jotting random words she half-understood from training, circling them with messy stars and highlights.

 

Minji scooted closer, peeking over her shoulder. “You write everything down?” she asked in Korean, her voice softer than the usual tone she used.

 

Zoey blinked. “Uh… sometimes. Hard words. Sometimes I don’t understand and I uhh...”

 

Minji’s eyes lit up. “Do you want help? I can translate. English to Korean. I’m fluent.” She straightened proudly.

 

“Oh?” Zoey smiled, relieved. “That’s… good.”

 

Before Minji could add more, Haneul leaned across the floor. “Wait, Zoey! Can you say something in English? Just one sentence.”

 

“Yeah, teach us,” Hyuna chimed in, already grinning. “Like… slang.”

 

Zoey laughed nervously, brushing hair from her face. “Slang?” She thought for a second, then shrugged. “Um… ‘What’s up?”

 

Haneul and Hyuna immediately repeated it, their accents stretching the syllables. Haneul exaggerated hers so much that Ha-eun and Yujin nearly fell over laughing.

 

Zoey tried not to laugh too hard, though it warmed her chest seeing everyone trying because of her.

 

The door creaked open. Shoes tapped against the hardwood as Celine walked in, arms crossed. Instantly, the chatter collapsed. People scrambled up, standing and sitting straighter.

 

Celine’s eyes swept the room. “ Today, I want to talk about evaluations.”

 

The word dropped heavily. Evaluations.

 

Zoey’s stomach tightened. She glanced around and saw the same reaction ripple through the group. Minji was chewing her lip, Yujin sitting up straighter, breathing out, Haneul’s soft smile dimming just slightly.

 

“At the end of every month, you’ll perform in front of the trainers and our judges,” Celine explained. “Vocals, dance, rap, and stage presence. We’ll judge your progress and compare you to each other.”

 

The room went silent, the faint hum of the air conditioner suddenly louder than breath.

 

Celine clapped her hands sharply. “Today is something new, stability practice. Let’s see how well you can multitask while still giving something I can call performance.”

 

Zoey snapped her notebook shut, forcing herself up. The joking atmosphere was gone. Competition pressed against the trainees, heavy.

 

The girls were lined up against the mirrored wall, already sweating from warmups. Celine paced slowly, arms crossed.

 

“Today we combine vocals and movement,” she said sharply. “You will not stand still on stage. You will not sing sitting down. You must control your breath even when your body is active.”

 

They exchanged uneasy glances. Zoey’s stomach dropped.

 

“Running laps. Push-ups. Jumping jacks.”

 

Minji’s hand shot up weakly. “Sing… while running?”

 

“Yes,” Celine said flatly. “On stage, it will be harder than this. If you cannot handle this, you cannot perform.”

---

They ran in circles around the room, Zoey’s voice cracked as her sneakers squeaked against the polished floor, lungs straining to push words out in rhythm. Minji tripped over her own pace and wheezed into her line, earning a sharp clap from Celine.

 

“Keep singing!”

 

Yujin was already gasping, her lines coming out thin and short. From before, they’ve only been taught to do these separately.

 

When the verse ended, Celine switched them into jumping jacks. Zoey nearly lost the rhythm, voice trembling with each jump. Her legs burned, throat tightening, but she forced the lyrics out.

 

“Push-ups,” Groans filled the room. They hit the floor, voices muffled as they tried to sing between dips. Sweat dripped onto the mats, lyrics breaking into stutters. Zoey’s arms shook violently, and she collapsed on her stomach.

“Laps”

 

“Jumping jacks”

---

By the time the song ended, most of them were sprawled across the floor.

 

Zoey’s lungs burned. She clutched her knees, breathless.

 

Celine’s heels clicked across the room. “You see the difference now? Talent is not enough. Stability separates trainees from idols. This should be practised for thirty minutes a day.”

 

She paused, scanning each girl.

 

Celine paced slowly in front of them. “Let me make something clear before evaluations. Vocals are not just about hitting notes. They’re about stability and tone under pressure. Dance is not about memorising steps. It’s about precision and adaptability. Rap requires character, not just speed. And stage presence…” She stopped, eyes locking briefly with each girl. “Stage presence is what convinces the audience to look at you.”

 

The words rang heavy. Zoey scribbled them in her head, already planning to jot them later.

 

These four are what you will be judged on. Evaluations will test all of them.”

 

Celine clapped once. “Dismissed.”

 

“That’s all for today. Practice in your own time. Don’t waste it.”

 

When the door closed behind her, the silence broke immediately.

 

The moment the door closed, Hyuna flopped onto her back. “That was… evil.”

 

Minji groaned, collapsing on the floor. “Stage presence... how do you even… practise that?”

 

Haneul stretched her arms overhead, unfazed. “Confidence first.” She dragged herself upright and struck a dramatic pose, earning a few laughs.

 

“Confidence?” Zoey repeated, doubtful.

 

Haneul grinned sheepishly. “Fake it until it’s real.”

 

“Since we're all friends here, why don’t we help each other out?” Hyuna suggested.

 

“I’ll… work with whoever needs stage presence,” Haneul added after, “It’s the easiest thing to lose when you’re nervous.”

 

Hyuna tilted her head toward Yujin. “Vocals with us since we’ve got the highest ranks.”

 

Haeun nudged Zoey with her elbow, a half-smile pulling at her mouth. “Rap?”

 

No one argued. The room simply shifted, mini classes forming without another word.

---

Mira and Minji were quick to fall into drills, clapping beats and making the others repeat moves until they hit cleaner angles.

 

Haneul was pacing in front of the group, arms crossed, reminding them to “make their performance memorable,” while they sang. Across the room, Hyuna and Yujin are running vocal warm-ups and catching slips in breath control with quiet corrections.

 

Zoey sat cross-legged on the floor while Haeun tapped out syllables on her knee, guiding the girls through rap lines. Sometimes they got it, sometimes they stumbled, but Haeun just started again.

 

Zoey mouthed the words to herself between turns, rewriting them with her pen messily. The syllables came quicker than she could write. She tried to focus, but her eyes wandered every few minutes. Across the room, Mira corrected Yujin’s posture. Minji clapped loudly, counting louder. Their movements looked synchronised already.

 

Zoey’s page was filled with half-formed notes. She wasn’t sure if any of it would matter when it came time to stand in front of the trainers, but the act of writing made her feel like she was holding on to something.

 

By the time Haeun tapped the rhythm for the fifth time, Zoey’s tongue felt dry. She missed the beat and exhaled through her teeth.

 

“You’re rushing,” Haeun said simply. She didn’t sound irritated, but Zoey still nodded quickly, biting the inside of her cheek before starting again.

 

The room was filled with noise. Clapping, singing, stomping, voices cutting in and out, but all Zoey could think about was how close evaluations suddenly felt. It was only halfway through the second month of training.

---

The room finally went quiet when the trainer dismissed them, but sweat still clung to Zoey’s neck and back like a second shirt. She lingered by the mirror, stretching her fatigued muscles. Haneul dropped beside her, collapsing onto the floor with a dramatic sigh.

 

“You’re so calm,” Haneul muttered, head tilted back against the mirror.

 

“Me?” Zoey blinked, caught off guard, sighing, then mumbling in English “I feel like I’m gonna vomit.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Nervous”

 

Haneul cracked a tired laugh. “Then it’s not just me.” Her voice softened. “I keep thinking I’ll mess up the one part I worked hardest on. This is our last week for training before evaluation.”

 

Zoey hugged her knees, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Same.”

 

Haneul groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes. “They tell us not to compare, but it’s impossible. Everyone’s getting better so fast.”

 

Zoey glanced around the emptying room. Mira and Minji, still practising footwork near the door, Hyuna scolded Yujin for forgetting a harmony while Haeun was holding a plank on the floor. Everyone looked so serious.

 

She lowered her voice. “Do you think… uhh… we are ready?”

 

Haneul peeked at her through her elbow. “No. But maybe that’s the point. They want to see who still tries when they’re not ready. Attitude.”

 

Zoey breathed out, long and shaky. “That’s… smart.”

 

Haneul smiled faintly, though her eyes were tired. “Don’t give me too much credit. I’m still terrified.”

 

Zoey laughed under her breath, quiet enough that it didn’t carry. “Together.”

 

For the first time all day, some of the weight on her chest lifted.

---

The vending machines hummed faintly in the hallway, their bright lights almost too harsh against the dim corridor. Zoey stood in front of one, staring blankly at the rows of chips and chocolate bars like they were a math problem.

 

Haneul leaned against the wall beside her, still catching her breath. “You’ve been staring at that Snickers for two minutes. Are you gonna buy it or challenge it to a duel?”

 

Zoey snorted, digging out a coin.

 

“Chocolate fixes everything,” Haneul said, already tapping her card to buy a bottle of water.

 

The machine clunked as Zoey’s candy dropped. She crouched, unwrapping it, then broke the bar cleanly in half. She hesitated, then held one piece out. “Have.”

 

Haneul blinked, then grinned and took it. “Thanks, foreigner.”

 

Zoey chewed slowly, the sugar hitting her system like relief. For a moment, it was quiet, just the sound of footsteps echoing from further down the hall.

 

Across from them, Mira passed by with her practice bag slung over her shoulder. Zoey’s eyes followed her until she disappeared, something twisting in her chest.

 

“She’s so serious it’s scary,” Haneul said, following Zoey’s gaze. “But maybe that’s why she’s good.”

 

Zoey didn’t answer right away. She licked chocolate from her thumb, forcing a smile. They finished their snacks in silence, the weight of tomorrow pressing back down on them.

 

A door creaked open before either could say more. Minji popped her head out, eyes darting left and right like she was checking for spies. “Hey. Don’t stay out here all night. Come to my room. I smuggled snacks.”

 

Haneul raised an eyebrow. “Snacks?”

 

Minji stepped fully inside, grinning mischievously. “From the corner store. Don’t ask how, don’t ask when. Just… no one snitch, okay? I was out past curfew.”

 

Haneul’s jaw dropped. “You’re insane.”

 

“Insanely generous,” Minji corrected, holding up a crinkling plastic bag. “Now come on before I eat it all myself.”

 

Within minutes, the trainees were crowded onto Minji and Yujin’s floor, bags of chips and cookies scattered across a blanket like treasure. The tension from practice loosened with each laugh, crumbs sticking to fingers, soda fizzing loudly every time someone cracked open a can.

 

For a while, the evaluations didn’t exist.

 

The dorm room smelled faintly of instant noodles and leftover snacks. Minji was sprawled across the floor, leaning on one elbow, tearing open a new bag of chips. Haneul lounged against the wall, still fiddling with Minji’s hair. Zoey sat cross-legged near the corner, quietly unwrapping a frosted cookie. Haeun was perched on the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone, while Yujin and Hyuna shared a blanket on the couch, talking in low voices.

 

Minji tossed a chip toward Haneul. “So,” Minji said, voice dramatic, “how’s everyone feeling about the evaluations tomorrow? Nervous? Terrified? Planning to cry?”

 

Haneul raised an eyebrow. “All of the above.” She smirked. “Except I’ll try not to cry in front of everyone.”

 

Yujin laughed softly. “ I keep imagining standing on stage and forgetting the moves or the lines. My stomach hurts just thinking about it.”

 

Hyuna rolled her eyes but smiled. “Stop overthinking. Everyone’s nervous. That’s normal. Just… focus on your part and trust your practice.”

 

Haeun flopped back on the floor, copying Minji, tossing a chip at Zoey. “See? Even Hyuna admits it. You’re all stressed for nothing. Cute”

 

Yujin laughed quietly, taking the chip before Zoey caught it. “Cute… yeah, if being a mess counts.”

 

Haneul grinned. “As long as you nail the performance tomorrow.”

 

The conversation shifted naturally, hopping from snack debates, who got the last bag of chips, to whose turn it was to refill drinks.

 

“I swear, my legs are going to fall off if we do another stability run tomorrow,” Yujin groaned, stretching her arms.

 

“Worth it,” Minji said with a nod, crunching a chip. “If we survive tomorrow, we survive anything.”

 

Haeun raised an eyebrow. “Including being bossed around by Celine?”

 

Hyuna chuckled. “Definitely including that.”

 

Zoey leaned back against the wall, listening to the chatter. Her nerves were still there, a steady hum in her chest, but the laughter around her made it quieter, manageable. For a little while, she could pretend the evaluations weren’t looming.

 

Minji grinned at her. “Zoey, English practice time! Teach us something fancy.”

 

Zoey snorted, shaking her head. “No. Not tonight.”

 

“Aww, but I helped you with Korean, see it’s getting better from when you first came.”

 

“Remember, when she’d laugh and act like she understood sometimes.” Haeun chimed in. “But thanks to her, I know more than common phrases.”

“What’s up!” Yujin said jokingly, causing everyone to follow her and repeat it.

 

Zoey laughed quietly, shaking her head at their antics. “You guys are ridiculous,” she muttered, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

 

Hyuna nudged her gently. “See? You’re already teaching without even trying.”

 

Haneul leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “Come on, just one phrase! Something impressive. Then we can all practice it and sound smart tomorrow.”

 

Zoey groaned, pretending to think hard. “Fine… how about… ‘Actions speak louder than words’?”

 

“Oooh, fancy!” Minji clapped once “Repeat it five times each!”

 

The girls echoed the phrase, stumbling over pronunciation and laughing when it came out wrong. Zoey corrected them softly, a gentle rhythm in her tone. After a while, Minji flopped back dramatically, holding her stomach. “Okay, okay, enough learning for tonight. My brain can’t take more English wisdom.”

 

Haneul stretched, letting out a tired sigh. “We should probably get some rest too… in the afternoon tomorrow. Evaluations aren’t going to wait for us.”

 

Zoey nodded, picking up her notebook from the floor. “Yeah… I want to… write…about what I practised today. Keep it fresh for tomorrow.”

 

Haeun raised an eyebrow. “Don’t stay up too late though. You need energy for stage time.”

 

Zoey smiled faintly, flipping open her notebook. “I know.”

 

As the girls slowly started to wind down, Zoey’s pen scratched softly against the page. She wrote about stability drills, rap lines, and small corrections she noticed in herself and others. Even in the hum of the room, her nerves settled a little, organised on paper. The room felt quieter now, the laughter faded into soft murmurs as everyone started to settle in for the night. Zoey’s pen kept moving to keep her feeling grounded, while beside her, Haneul exhaled and leaned back, sharing the nervous quiet.

---

The studio felt unusually quiet that morning. Music from the speakers played low, almost a hum under the sound of the girls’ footsteps as they warmed up. Zoey flipped through her notebook again, checking off reminders and counting beats in her head. Every time she glanced up, she saw the others moving with precise focus, stretching arms, practicing spins, or reciting lines under their breath.
Minji bounced over with a sly grin, holding a small bag of snacks. “Okay, last little boost before evaluations,” she whispered, waving the bag like a peace offering. “No snitching, alright? I was out really early to get these.”

 

The girls huddled together on the floor. This time, Mira joined, crunching quietly on chocolate and granola bars, letting the small comfort of shared treats ease the tension. Laughter bubbled up in low whispers as they mimicked lines, whispered corrections, and shared quick encouragements. Zoey felt the nervous butterflies in her stomach ease just a little.

 

After snacks, they spread out again. Mira and Minji partnered up, repeating neat angles and fluid transitions until every movement felt natural, while Zoey and Haeun tapped out beats on the floor, running tricky rap lines over and over until the rhythm stuck. Zoey paused to jot notes in her notebook, her pen moving in an almost frantic manner. She recorded reminders, small corrections, mental cues, anything to make her performance cleaner.

---

The studio door slid open with a sharp click, and the sound of conversation died almost instantly. All seven girls froze mid-stretch, mid-step, or mid-note, eyes turning toward the entrance.

 

Celine stepped in with the cameramen, clipboard in hand, her heels tapping crisply on the polished floor. Following behind were some other professionals, evaluators, retired idols and producers. “Good afternoon,” she said, voice clipped but not unkind. “Today is your monthly evaluation.”

 

The girls straightened, shuffling slightly as they moved into the centre of the room in a line. Some fidgeted with their sleeves, others clasped their hands in front of them. Zoey’s stomach tightened, a knot forming, but she drew a deep breath and stood tall.

 

Celine scanned the group, then gestured sharply. “Individual performances. I hope you rehearsed your pieces before.”

 

The tension thickened. Even Minji, usually bubbly and bright, glanced at her notes nervously, lips pressed in a thin line. Hyuna’s expression was calm, but the subtle tightening of her jaw betrayed her.

 

Zoey’s eyes drifted toward Mira, who stood silently at the back, hands clasped.. A flicker of admiration and worry crossed Zoey’s mind. Mira always looked unbothered, but Zoey knew that didn’t mean she was immune to pressure.

 

Celine tapped her clipboard sharply. “Begin. Mira, you first.”

 

The room seemed to shrink as Mira stepped forward, shoulders squared, eyes forward. Zoey watched, breath caught somewhere between excitement to see Mira.

 

Mira stepped onto the marked spot in the centre of the studio. The other girls watched quietly from the side. Zoey’s heart pounded, eyes glued to Mira’s movements.

 

Mira started with the choreography, then soon came in her singing, each step clean and precise. Her movements were sharp and her timing perfect. Every motion looked effortless. She had clearly practised these moves until they were muscle memory.

 

Celine’s pen scratched across the clipboard. After the sequence ended, she nodded slightly. “Good technique,” she said, voice measured. “Your dance movements are sharp, your angles clear. You have a natural control that’s rare for someone with your level of experience.”

 

“However,” Celine continued, tilting her head, “Your stage presence is lacking. You execute the dance steps flawlessly, but you don’t pull the audience in. You need to sell the performance, but you look uninterested.”

 

Mira nodded, half absorbing the critique, half disosiaiting.

 

Celine stepped back. “Vocals and rap…”

 

“Not bad for someone without prior experience,” Celine said. “With continued practice and effort, you could turn these into solid skills.”

 

Mira nodded again, eyes looking tired, before moving off.

 

Minji adjusted her hair nervously before stepping onto the marked X. She glanced once at the other girls, who gave her small smiles of encouragement, then focused straight ahead. Zoey could see the way Minji’s hands trembled at her sides.

 

The music began, and Minji launched into her routine. Her rap verses came faster than before, sharper, and with more confidence than Zoey had ever heard during practice. Her vocals carried well too. As the song went on, small cracks appeared. She rushed one dance move, forgot another, then came in half a beat late on the next. By the end, she was slightly off with the choreography, though she tried to mask it with a smile.

 

When the music stopped, Minji stood frozen, breathing hard.

 

Celine nodded slowly, flipping through her notes. “Your rap has improved significantly,” she said. “Clearer diction, better flow. It’s obvious you’ve been practising. Vocally, too.”

 

Relief flickered across Minji’s face, but it was short-lived.

 

“But,” Celine continued, “because you focused so much on rap and vocal improvement, your dance slipped. You were off beat in several parts, forgot transitions, and didn’t complete some moves. In this industry, multitasking is crucial. You can’t shine in one area if it causes you to neglect another. You’re one of our top dancers, get it together.”

 

Minji’s shoulders sagged, her lips pressed tight.

 

Celine’s voice softened slightly. “You have potential, but don’t let nervousness or tunnel vision throw you off. Learn to balance everything at once. That’s what makes an idol.”

 

Minji bowed quickly, stepping back toward the group, her eyes glistened, her hands trembling again.

 

Zoey stepped forward, her shoulders tight though she tried to carry herself with confidence. She glanced quickly at the judges, then back to the floor. The music started, every now and then, her eyes blinked nervously if she was second-guessing herself.

 

Her vocals came out steady at first, smooth and clear, but there were moments where her weaknesses showed. She tried to cover it with a smile, pushing harder into the dance. The contrast only made it obvious that she was better, much better than before, but not solid yet.

 

When the track ended, Zoey bowed quickly, her smile tight.

 

Celine leaned forward, pen against her lips. “Zoey…you’ve improved. Your singing is more consistent. Your dance lines are cleaner. I can see the work.”

 

Zoey’s shoulders dropped slightly, relief flickering across her face.

 

“But,” Celine continued, “sometimes you disappear. There are points where your voice comes across as weak, or your movement loses weight. It makes your performance seem weaker.”

 

Zoey nodded quickly, biting her lip.

 

“You just need to trust yourself.”

 

Zoey bowed again, murmuring a soft “thank you,” before hurrying back to the line of girls.

 

Haneul stepped into place, rolling her shoulders once as if shaking something off. When the music hit, her expression shifted to a sharp, confident look, lighting up her eyes. She carried the concept easily, almost like she was wearing it as a second skin. The judges leaned forward, watching her small but deliberate gestures, the way she pulled focus without even trying.

 

Her rap came next. She started strong, the rhythm steady, but halfway through a line her voice wavered, just slightly. The words fell a little flat, lacking the strength the beat demanded. She pushed through, but the nervous edge clung stubbornly to her delivery.

 

When she finished, she exhaled loudly, bowing quickly before glancing at the judges.

 

Celine smiled faintly. “Haneul, I can tell you thought carefully about your concept. It fits you very well. Your stage presence is strong. I couldn’t look away at certain points.”

 

Haneul’s lips twitched into the smallest smile, relief washing over her.

 

“But,” Celine continued, voice firm, “your rap needs more work. Right now, you’re playing it safe, like you’re too nervous to fully commit.”

 

Haneul nodded quickly, trying to mask her disappointment with a polite smile. “Yes, thank you.”

 

Haeun’s palms were damp by the time her name was called. She wiped them against her sweats before stepping to the center, but it didn’t help much.

 

The music camein, and she forced herself to move, to keep her expression lifted. Her dance steps were quick and sharp, too sharp. When she sang, her pitch held steady, but she pushed a little too hard. During her rap, her fingers drummed against her thigh, a nervous tic she couldn’t hide.

 

By the time the track ended, her breathing was louder than she wanted it to be. She gave a small bow, teeth catching her lip while she waited.

 

One of the evaluators nodded slowly. “Your ability is solid across the board, Haeun. You’ve clearly worked on everything. For a trainee at this stage, you’re impressive.”

 

Haeun’s shoulders eased just a little. “Thank you,” she said, voice softer than she meant.

 

But Celine’s voice followed, calm but pointed. “You were trying to prove everything at once. It made you lose control in moments.”

 

Haeun’s throat tightened again. She bobbed her head quickly. “Yes, I understand.”

 

“It’s not about showing all your cards in one performance,” Celine continued. “Trust that your skills will speak for themselves.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Haeun bowed again, retreating to the line of trainees. Her legs felt a little unsteady.

 

Hyuna’s turn came near the end, and even though she’d done this a hundred times in training sessions, the silence in the room made her heartbeat pound in her ears. She inhaled slowly, stepping into position.

 

The track started, and immediately, the tension in her shoulders loosened. Her voice slipped into the track, clear, controlled, and expressive.

 

By the time the final note faded, Hyuna’s breath was quick but steady. She bowed politely, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear while waiting for the verdict.

 

The evaluators exchanged glances before one finally spoke. “Hyuna, consistent as always. Your technique is strong, and your vocal delivery feels natural. You look like someone who belongs on stage.”

 

Another nodded. “You handle pressure well. Even in an evaluation setting, your control doesn’t slip. That’s a sign of strong fundamentals.”

 

Hyuna’s lips twitched into a small, relieved smile. “Thank you.”

 

“There’s still room to grow, of course,” Celine added. “But you’ve built a solid foundation. Keep polishing it.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Hyuna bowed again before stepping back. Only then did she exhale fully, her hands curling and uncurling at her sides.

 

Yujin forced herself into position. The music kicked in and she jumped right into it before her brain had the chance to overthink.

 

Her rap came first. The words spilled out a little too quickly at the start, but by the second line, she found her rhythm, the syllables landing heavier, clearer. She moved with the beat, body twisting through the choreography.

 

When the music cut, Yujin was bent slightly forward, chest rising and falling fast.

 

One of the evaluators adjusted her glasses. “Yujin, you’ve made visible progress. Your rap is stronger compared to when you first arrived, and your movement feels sharper.”

 

Another trainer added, “For the time you’ve had, your dance improvement is impressive. You don’t look behind anymore.”

 

Yujin’s shoulders loosened a fraction, but then came the sting.

 

“Still, you let nerves pull you forward too fast at the start,” Celine said. “Recovery is good, but with more stability, those slips won’t happen.”

 

Yujin nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am.” Her voice was small but steady.

 

“Keep practising control. The foundation is there, but consistency will make the difference.”

 

“Thank you.” She bowed before returning to her spot. Her heart was still racing, but for the first time, she felt like maybe she wasn’t just trying to catch up anymore.

 

Celine stepped forward, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning the group. Zoey felt her stomach tighten.

 

“You’ve all shown improvement,” Celine began, voice steady but sharp. “Each of you has areas of strength. Some of you have exceeded expectations in certain skills. But let’s be clear.” She paused, letting the weight of the silence settle.

 

“This does not mean you are ready. Not yet. You are well-rounded, yes, but that does not equal being a full-fledged idol. Right now, your performances are… simply mediocre. Average.”

 

“Do not get cocky just because you received praise, or because your skill level seems higher than someone else’s. Seventy percent of what you bring to the stage is talent. Thirty percent is attitude. And if your attitude does not match the discipline and commitment required, you will fail.”

 

Minji shifted uncomfortably. Zoey’s hands clenched at her sides.

 

“Some of you cannot handle the pressure yet. Some of you have relied on raw talent without pushing past the discomfort of training. If you cannot handle this environment, if you cannot push through every mistake, then this is not the place for you. You should go home. Because the real world of idol life is unforgiving, and it does not wait.”

 

A pause. Celine’s gaze swept over them again.

 

“If anything, you are taking spots from people who would work harder, who would give everything for the chance to be here. Remember that. Respect it. And respect yourselves enough to meet that standard. Improvement is not optional, it’s mandatory.”

 

The room was quiet, heavy with tension. Zoey felt her heart hammering in her chest. She could hear faint sniffles from the corners, Minji barely holding it together.

 

“Now, take what you’ve learned today and keep moving. There is work to be done. Don’t waste this opportunity. You’ll know your scores soon.”

 

She turned sharply and left the room, leaving a silence that felt thick enough to choke on. The second the door shut behind Celine, the silence broke.

 

Zoey sank to the floor, knees pulled to her chest, trying to swallow down the lump in her throat. This was only the beginning, and already it felt heavier than she expected.

 

Minji’s shoulders shook where she sat, head bowed low, and a muffled sob slipped out before she could catch it.

 

“I messed up so much,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I can’t do anything right.”

 

Zoey’s chest tightened. She didn’t know what to say, words sticking to the back of her throat. Haneul shifted closer, biting her lip hard, eyes glossed over, but fighting to hold herself together. She reached out and gave Minji’s arm a quick squeeze, not trusting her voice.

 

Hyuna, however, didn’t hesitate. She crouched down in front of Minji, her tone firm but gentle. “Hey. Enough. You didn’t mess up. You showed up, you tried, and that’s what matters. Everyone here is learning.”

 

Minji shook her head, tears falling harder. “But they said…I was off, I forgot moves…” Her hands clawed at her hair, tugging as if trying to pull the failure out with it.

 

Zoey froze, heart thudding, unsure what to do, face pale, hand hovering over Minji’s back, but frozen.

 

“Hey! Breathe! You’re okay. Look at me, just breathe!”

 

“I’m failing…I can’t…” Minji sobbed, curling in on herself, rocking slightly. Her words tumbled over each other, incoherent with panic.

 

“Everyone has something,” Hyuna cut in quickly. “Did you not hear what they told us? None of us were perfect. That’s the point. If you didn’t struggle, you wouldn’t be training.”

 

Minji shook her head violently. “No! I’m…why did I even…” Her voice cracked and disappeared into another shuddering gasp.

 

Haneul finally reached out, gently taking Minji’s shaking hands, squeezing lightly. “It’s okay… you’re not alone. Everyone struggles.”

 

Minji sniffled, covering her face with her hands. Hyuna rested a hand on her shoulder, steady, grounding. “You’re not alone in this. We’re in it together. So don’t tear yourself down. Just promise me you’ll get back up tomorrow and try again.”

 

For a moment, the only sound was Minji’s shaky breathing. Then Haneul offered a tissue with a small, wobbly smile. “She’s right. We’ll help each other.”

 

Finally, slowly, Minji’s shaking eased a little. Her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps, and she leaned against Haneul, still sobbing quietly. The room was heavy with silence, except for her soft hiccups and Hyuna’s grounding voice.

---

Bonus 1 (Concepts):
Originally, I had planned for there to be another foreigner someone Zoey could relate to. My concepts:

 

Ari - She’d be a foreigner from Japan, who would also play the role of a love rival to Mira. Knows English, Korean and Japanese. Representative colour = black

 

Mei - Foreigner for China, who would also play the role of a love rival to Zoey. Speaks only Chinese. Representative colour = white

 

I didn’t go through with this due to wanting to focus more on Zoey’s and Mira’s trainee life rather than adding unnecessary romantic conflict.

 

Bonus 2 (Rumi’s Reasoning):

 

The reasons each girl had been chosen:

 

Haneul - Her audition was memorable due to her demeanour/sp and soft voice, frequently described as angelic, making her different from other techniques. To Rumi, she has a lot of star potential.

 

Hyuna - Hyuna auditioned with every aspect and excelled in all of them. She also had a large amount of experience. Her well-rounded abilities made her a strong candidate.

 

Haeun - Her rap and vocal ability stood out from the rest, also having just a little more training than the others. She believes Haeun has all-rounder potential. Rumi also could relate to her since Haeun’s adoptive mother was an idol, training her personally since she was 15.

 

Zoey - She liked Zoey’s accent as a foreigner, believing it gave her a standout feat, especially since she had popularity from previous shows. Zoey also has a really good freestyling ability and lyrical writing experience that Rumi thought of as useful.

 

Mira - Her dancing ability, body control and appearance stood out to her. She refers to Mira as “totally my type”, thinking she’d make a fine visual. She was also chosen due to her history of creating choreography and being a backup dancer for bigger idols.

 

Yujin - Being the youngest, she had the shortest training period, but seemed to hold a lot of professionalism. After searching through her social media accounts, which she posted covers, Rumi realised she has stronger potential in vocals.

Chapter Text

The cafeteria chatter that usually filled the air was gone. Instead, the cafeteria felt air heavier than usual, the clatter of chopsticks and trays muted. No one said much. Minji pushed rice around her plate, Yujin tapped her foot under the table, and Hyuna tried to keep her composure, but even she ate slower than normal. Evaluations weren’t finished. They were told that Rumi would review footage of their evaluations and provide additional critique. Zoey sat among them, the silence deafening, making the room feel smaller.

 

Zoey’s eyes drifted across the room again. Still no Mira.

 

“Mira’s not here,” Haneul murmured finally, barely lifting her head.

 

“Maybe… practice?” Yujin's voice was soft, unsure. “Or she just doesn’t want to eat.”

 

Haeun let out a sigh. “After this morning… I wouldn’t blame her.”

 

No one argued.

 

Zoey pressed her lips together. After a few minutes of hesitation, she set her tray down with a soft clink. “I’ll… be back,” she muttered in broken Korean, pushing away from the table. Zoey’s chair scraped as she stood, the sound far too loud in the stillness. None of the others asked. Everyone already knew where her thoughts had gone.

 

She slipped out into the hall, the air cooler and even quieter, her footsteps echoing as she made her way down the dorm corridor. The girls’ doors were all shut. She hesitated in front of Mira’s, knocking softly.

 

“…Mira?” she whispered, leaning close. No answer. She knocked again, waited. Nothing.

 

Zoey worried her bottom lip, then turned toward the practice room. If Mira wasn’t eating, she was probably there. That was the only place that ever seemed to swallow her whole.

 

The building grew emptier as she walked, until the only sounds were the hum of the air vents and the soft squeak of her sneakers on the polished floor. She peeked into the vocal practice room, which was empty. The rap booth, also empty.

 

She rounded a corner too quickly and almost ran into someone.

 

Zoey stumbled back with a gasp. The person was just a little taller, dressed in black, hood pulled low, a mask covering most of their face. For a minute, they just stared at her.

 

“S-sorry!” Zoey blurted, bowing quickly, hands together.

 

The person didn’t reply, only nodded their head. Zoey’s heart thudded, but her worry for Mira shoved her forward. She bowed again, muttering “Sorry, sorry” in English this time, before brushing past and hurrying down the hall.

 

Finally, Zoey reached the dance studio. Through the ajaw door, she peered inside. The lights were on. Mira sat slumped against the mirror, knees pulled to her chest, face buried. Even from outside, Zoey could see the slight tremors in her shoulders. Her shoulders shook just enough that Zoey realised she wasn’t just resting, she was crying.

 

The faint squeak of the hinges cut through the silence. Zoey stepped in slowly, heart thumping, the door clicking shut behind her.

 

“Oh… uh,” Zoey whispered, her voice cracking. Her hands trembled. Mira… crying? She had never seen her like this. Mira, always composed, is now shaking on the floor.

 

Zoey’s chest tightened painfully. She swallowed hard, words stuck in her throat. “M-Mira… are you okay?” she stammered in English, her voice higher than usual, almost panicked.

 

Mira didn’t move. Didn’t even look up. She curled into herself tighter, ignoring Zoey completely.

 

Zoey’s throat went dry. Her hands flew up, fiddling nervously. “I… I’m sorry! I just… you’re crying and I… I don’t know what to do!” Her Korean came out rushed, mixed with English words, spilling all over the place. “Sorry…I’m no good.” Zoey scratched her head nervously.

 

Mira shifted slightly, brushing a hand across her eyes, but made no sound. Zoey’s panic spiked. “No, no, no, you… you’re okay. You… you’re Mira, strong, cool. It’s ok!”

 

It was clumsy, embarrassing, and she knew it. Mira couldn’t understand a thing.

 

Finally, Mira let out a dry, humourless laugh and fumbled for her phone, typing furiously. She shoved it toward Zoey.

 

The translation of what Mira wanted to tell her stared back. “Go away. I don’t care. You’re just embarrassing me and you.”

 

Zoey froze, her hands dropping to her sides. Her chest heaved. “I… okay… sorry…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, before retreating shakily out the door. She didn’t notice the same person standing just down the hall, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. They didn’t move when Zoey rushed past, too upset to notice her. They just watched, quietly, before pushing off the wall and disappearing down the corridor.

---

The girls lined up in the mirrored studio. The floor still gleamed faintly from the morning’s evaluation cleanup. A pair of trainers entered, one carrying a cardboard box, another holding a clipboard as usual.

 

“Alright, everyone,” one trainer began, setting the box down with a heavy thud. “Starting today, you’ll begin your stage-prep training as you get closer to debut. You’ll be learning to perform with microphones.” she reached into the box, pulling out a small silver handheld mics, “Also in these.”

 

The trainer lifted out a pair of heels, sleek and glossy under the lights.

 

A small wave of surprise passed through the girls.

 

“Let’s begin our practice in heels first.” the trainer said coming closer to the girls.

 

Yujin gasped first, eyes sparkling. “Ooh, they’re so shiny!” she said. “Can we keep them?”

 

Haneul grinned, nudging her playfully. “If you can get through walking in them first.”

 

Minji laughed quietly beside them, already curious enough to peek into the box. “These are cute though…” she murmured, brushing her fingers over the straps as the trainer brought them forward.

 

Minji giggled nervously. “Maybe they’ll go easy on us?”

 

“They never do,” Hyuna said flatly, already slipping her shoes on.

 

Haeun’s face dropped. “You’re kidding,” she said flatly, crossing her arms. “I can’t even walk straight in sneakers.”

 

A few giggles escaped, but she wasn’t exaggerating, Haeun looked genuinely concerned. Zoey swallowed as a pair was handed to her. They looked higher than she expected. Zoey wore heels before, but never to dance. Her heart thudded in her chest as she set one shoe on, testing her balance like the heel might betray her.

 

The sound of heels hitting the wooden floor filled the room as everyone around stood. Haeun wobbled almost instantly, catching herself on Yujin’s shoulder. “Okay…okay…maybe not so bad,” she said, laughing nervously.

 

“They’re fun though!” Yujin twisting her ankles to get a good look at them on her feet.

 

The trainer clapped once sharply. “Enough chatter. This is an important lesson as ninety percent of female artist have danced in heels.”

 

The laughter died quickly. Haeun looked like she was already praying for mercy.

 

The first few minutes were chaos.

 

The trainer clapped her hands sharply. “Straight backs, shoulders relaxed, chin up” eyes on Haeun who kept close to the ground.

 

Zoey tried to do exactly that, but her legs trembled anyway. Every step felt like walking on thin ice.

 

Haneul tried to hold a confident expression, her ankles less so. Minji stifled a giggle. “You’re doing great,” she whispered, wobbling hard.

 

Across the room, Yujin was somehow managing to spin, half-dancing already. “I think I’m getting it.” she said just before one of her heels clicked sideways, sending her stumbling forward.

 

“Center your weight,” the trainer barked. “These aren’t toys. Keep your feet aligned or you’ll twist your ankle before you even walk on stage.”

 

Across the mirrors, Hyuna and Mira were the only ones moving smoothly. Watching them made Zoey feel smaller, like she’d never catch up. Haeun was visibly suffering. She took two steps, grimacing as her ankle wobbled. “Why do people wear these on purpose? Three and a half inches is unreasonable.” she hissed under her breath, earning a chuckle from Yujin.

 

The trainer watched for a few more moments before sighing. “Alright. You’ll be wearing these for the next few weeks. Understood?” their heads nodding in agreement.

 

Zoey glanced down at her shoes again. Her heart beat faster than it should have. She could dance barefoot, even in sneakers, but this felt different. Unfamiliar. Something about it made Zoey straighten her back and take a deep breath. She’d keep up. Somehow.

 

When the music finally cut, the room fell into sighs and groans. The girls collapsed where they stood, slipping off the shoes like they were handcuffs.

 

“My feet are crying,” Haeun muttered, clutching her heels and glaring at them like they’d personally attacked her.

 

“Same,” Minji said, rubbing at her toes. “How do idols make it look easy?”

 

Yujin was still giggling, half-exhausted. “I almost fell four times. Did you see that spin? I swear the heels hate me.”

 

“It’s not the heels,” Haneul teased, stretching her legs. “It’s us.”

 

Yujin gasped in mock offense. “Rude!”

 

Even Zoey laughed, quiet but genuine. Her nerves had been a knot all morning, but moments like this loosened them. She looked across the room. Mira was sitting by the mirror, shoes still on, drinking from her water bottle. Her face was blank, walls perfectly rebuilt from lunch.

 

“Hey,” Zoey started, calling out, but stopped when Mira stood up a little to untie her straps, not even glancing over.

 

“Let her come around first.” Haneul whispered beside her, low enough that only Zoey could hear.

 

The trainers came back in before anyone could talk more.

 

“Alright,” one said, clapping their hands. “Break’s over. Shoes stay on. Next up, mic training. Learn to adapt choreo to your singing.”

 

“What now?” Haeun mumbled. “They want us to sing after this torture?”

 

“Yes,” the trainer said without missing a beat. “Just like all idols do.”

 

“Yes, teacher,” Haeun spoke mocking seriousness.

 

Celine came in and shot her a look that made her straighten instantly. None of them knew it, but this was the first test of something bigger waiting for them. The girls groaned but got up anyway, stretching out their sore legs as a staff member came in passing the microphones out.

 

Yujin was the first to get one, testing the weight with a grin. “Feels like I’m on a stage already.”

 

Minji laughed, doing a little pose. “Yujin-ssi, world tour when?”

 

A few giggles rippled through the room, but Zoey stayed quiet, adjusting her grip. The mic felt heavier than she expected, but it wasn't something she was new to.

 

“Listen up,”

 

Celine clapped twice, gathering their attention. “Listen up, when you perform, the mic is part of you. Practice switching hands if necessary, and adapting to choreography.”

 

They started slow, marching in place, singing scales while lifting their knees and switching the mic between hands. It looked ridiculous at first. As the practice dragged on, the exhaustion settled in again. Even Hyuna’s stamina ran out.

 

“Okay,” Celine said finally. “Pair up. One sings, one watches and corrects. Then switch.”

 

Zoey ended up with Haneul, who was already clutching her mic like it owed her money. “You go first,” Haneul said, voice cracking halfway between nervousness and fatigue. Zoey nodded. She raised the mic and started. Her voice came out a bit shaky at first, not terribly, but not confident.

 

From the corner of her eye, she could see Mira glancing over before quickly looking away again. Zoey’s pitch went off for half a second, but she steadied her voice and pushed through.

 

“Better,” Celine called out. “Don’t lose focus.”

 

When it ended, Zoey lowered her mic, breathing hard. Haneul clapped her shoulder gently. “See? Not so hard.”

 

Zoey tried to smile, but her nervousness hadn’t faded. Celine walked between pairs, eyes watching like a hawk, calling out corrections. The girls nodded or muttered softly as the mic training continued.

 

Zoey’s second turn came again faster than she expected. Her legs still burned from the heels, and sweat slicked her palms, but when Celine gestured toward her again, she lifted the mic without hesitation this time.

 

Her verse started smoother. She wasn’t perfect yet, but her improvement was there.

 

Yujin, watching nearby, whispered, “Ooh, she’s getting it.”

 

Then Mira’s voice, unintentionally, joined in. Everyone turned, even Celine raised an eyebrow. Mira was focusing on her practice with Hyuna, so much so that she didn’t realise she could be heard. The harmony lasted only two lines, and for a moment, it felt almost like they were performing together.

 

Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of their breathing.

 

Celine tilted her head slightly. “Interesting. That…” she motioned between the two “...worked so naturally.”

 

Mira blinked, realising what had happened. “Sorry,” she said flatly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

 

Zoey shook her head quickly. “No, it’s fine…”

 

Celine clapped once, resuming the drill like nothing had happened.

 

The session went on, but Zoey’s chest had a strange, uneasy warmth. Mira hadn’t looked at her again, but in that brief moment, singing together made her feel something else.

---

Zoey was wiping sweat from her forehead when Minji leaned against the mirror, smirking. “You two sounded… kinda good together, huh?” in English, then translated to the others, asking if they agreed.

 

Zoey froze, the words hitting like a cold splash of water. Her cheeks flamed instantly. “W-what?!” she stammered, turning her head to see if Mira had heard.

 

Haeun, sitting cross-legged nearby, snorted quietly. “I heard it. yeah… that was actually nice.”

 

Zoey’s hands tightened around her book, and she fumbled for a reply. “I-it was… uhm…practice!” Her voice cracked slightly, showing nervousness.

 

Haneul chuckled softly. “Sure, but it sounded… good either way.” She glanced at Mira, who was meticulously packing her things, completely unaware of the teasing. Zoey wanted to crawl under the nearest mat.

 

Minji grinned, leaning a little closer. “See? Even Haeun and Haneul agree. You two really have… uh… chemistry or something.”

 

Zoey sputtered, her notebook trembling slightly in her hands. “Cut it out!” She hated how high-pitched her voice had gone.

 

Hyuna smirked, nudging her lightly. “Relax, Zoey. You don’t have to explain yourself. But I gotta agree with everyone else, it wasn’t bad at all.”

 

Yujin tilted her head, giving Zoey a teasing look. “You’re acting like she’s going to bite you. Breathe. You didn’t mess up. If anything, it sounded natural. You guys make a great duo, plus you seem to get along just fine.”

 

Zoey’s eyes flicked to Mira again, but Mira was already gone, halfway down the hall, pulling her bag onto her shoulder with the same quiet, detached demeanour. Zoey felt her chest tighten. She knew Mira wasn’t paying attention to the teasing, but she couldn’t stop herself from worrying about how Mira would react if she found out what was being said.

 

“Ugh,” Zoey muttered under her breath, one hand clenching her notebook, the other covering her face. She wanted to say something, to defend herself, or maybe to explain, but the words wouldn’t come.

 

“I’ll come back.”

 

She put her notebook into her bag and rushed out into the hallway, trailing behind Mira.

 

Zoey’s footsteps echoed against the quiet dorm hallway, each one faster than the last. Mira had walked out without a word, her bag slung casually over one shoulder. Zoey’s chest felt tight, a mix of worry and guilt knotting her stomach. She couldn’t just let it go. Earlier at lunch time, when Mira cried for the first time in front of her, so vulnerable.

 

“Mira…” Zoey’s voice came out tentative, low enough that it might not even be heard, but enough that she hoped it would reach her. “I… I want to… I’m sorry.”

 

Mira didn’t look up. Her steps continued, only making Zoey’s stomach twist tighter.

 

“I didn’t want to… make you…make you feel sad,” Zoey pressed on, her words awkward, her accent rough, and the Korean she had worked so hard to practice faltering under the weight of her nerves. “I… I just… I didn’t want… you to...”

 

Mira finally stopped and turned her head just slightly, still avoiding Zoey’s gaze. Her tone was flat, almost bored, mixed with annoyance. “I don’t want it,” she said simply.

 

Zoey’s shoulders slumped slightly, but she stepped a little closer, desperate. “Please… I…let me…to explain?” she asked, her Korean coming out fractured, clumsy. “I… I didn’t… I didn’t mean…”

 

Mira’s patience seemed thin. She pulled her phone from her pocket and held it out wordlessly, her eyes looking to Zoey as if telling her to use it. Zoey’s eyes widened reading the screen, relief mixing with embarrassment.

 

“Thank you,” Zoey breathed, taking the phone gently. English was her first language, her comfort zone, but typing it out on a translator felt strange, a little awkward. She typed quickly, double-checking her words.

 

Finally, Zoey looked up, holding the phone out. “Okay… that’s everything,” she said softly, her voice trembling a little.

 

Mira’s lips moved slightly, almost hesitantly, before she asked in broken English, her accent thick, “What… your name…?”

 

Zoey blinked, caught off guard. “It’s… Zoey,” she said, smiling faintly.

 

Mira frowned slightly, confused, her lips twisting as she tried to repeat it. “… Chewy?” she said, a little shy. Zoey burst out giggling before she could stop herself, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a fraction. “Chewy?” she repeated, shaking her head. “Close enough, I guess.”

 

The awkward moment broke the heaviness just enough for Zoey to breathe a little easier. “I… I really didn’t mean to make it awkward back there,” she said, her voice low. “I just… I didn’t know how else to-”

 

Mira didn’t answer immediately. She kept one hand on her phone and the other brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes looked up for a second, just enough to meet Zoey’s, then looked away. “Uh…cool”, she said flatly.

 

Zoey bit her lip, the words tangling. “I care, okay?” she tried again, her English instinctively slipping in that sentence on the okay.

 

“I don’t want… I don’t want you to feel bad. At all.”

 

Mira’s eyebrows rose just slightly, a small twitch, if you weren’t actively looking, you’d miss it. She tilted the phone toward Zoey, then back at herself, wordlessly giving her another chance to use the translator. Zoey nodded quickly, fingers flying over the screen, desperate to get the right words across.

 

She typed furiously, muttering to herself as she did. “I hope… you can understand… what I mean… even if it’s… not perfect…”

 

Mira read silently, nodding when the translation appeared. She didn’t smile, didn’t comment, but she didn’t push Zoey away either. Finally, Mira looked up again, voice quieter this time, softer than before. “You… worry… much,” she said, her accent thick, a hint of shyness creeping through.

 

Zoey’s chest tightened, a strange mix of relief and lingering anxiety. “I… can’t stop being worried,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I like being here, I don’t want… you to think I’m… weird or annoying.”

 

Mira’s eyes softened ever so slightly, but she quickly looked back down at her phone. “Yeah, weird, but I’m weird too.”

 

Zoey felt heat rush to her cheeks, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment. It was… something else. Something that made her feel like maybe, just maybe, Mira’s walls weren’t as impenetrable as she thought.

 

For a long moment, they stood there in the quiet hallway. The screen dimmed in Mira’s hand, signalling the end of their conversation. Neither girl moved for a few seconds, suspended in an awkward stillness.

 

Zoey shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clutching her notebook to her chest. “So… um,” she started, her voice trembling a bit. “We’re… okay? Cool?”

 

Mira glanced at her, slipped her phone into her pocket and stood. “…You’re fine,” Mira said finally, her tone neutral, not her usual cold shoulder, but not warm either.

 

Zoey blinked, unsure whether to take that as forgiveness or dismissal. “Oh. Okay,” she said softly. Then, after a hesitant pause, “Thank you. For, um… not hating me.”

 

That earned her the faintest twitch of Mira’s lips, not exactly a smile, but close enough. “You talk… too much,” she replied. Mira exhaled through her nose, a sound almost like amusement, then turned toward the door. “Later, chewy” she said, without looking back.

 

“Later, Mira”, with a slight laugh, watching as Mira disappeared down the hall.

 

Zoey leaned against the cool wall, breathing out the sigh she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Her heart was still racing.

---

5 K-pop Song Playlist:

Haneul: Elegant
Secret Story of the Swan - Iz*one
Eleven - Ive
Love Dive - Ive
Cosmic - Red Velvet
Hypnosis - Ive

Minji: Fresh
Supernatural - Newjeans
Fate - (G)-idle
Come Over - Le Sserafim
How Sweet - Newjeans
TTYL - Loosemble

Yujin: Serving Vocals Ig
Justice - Dreamcatcher
I am - Ive
Supernova Love - Ive
Run For Roses - Nmixx
Hot - Le Sserafim

Hyuna: Mainly R&B Vibe (?)
Bebe - StayC
Sticky - Kiss of Life
Perfect Night - Le Sserafim
1&Only - Xlov
Smarter - Le Sserafim

Haeun:
XXL - Young Posse
Tomboy - (G)-idle
Hot Mess - Aespa
Igloo - Kiss of Life
Antifragile - Le Sserafim