The day their debut trailer dropped, Haru woke up to 47 missed messages.
Group chat, company chat, a few from his mom ("Why is your hair so red now??"), and even one from his old middle school music teacher who apparently still kept up with idol news.
His phone buzzed in his hand like it was trying to escape.
"Congratulations," Minju whispered, floating lazily above the ceiling lamp. "You're trending. Fourth overall."
He blinked, half-awake. "Seriously?"
She somersaulted midair. "#EclipseUnveiled. Your name's in the top ten searches. Even your awkward little eyebrow scar is getting attention."
"…I hate the internet."
"No you don't," she sang. "You're just scared of it loving you."
The trailer was only 52 seconds long.
But it changed everything.
Minimalist, moody, and sharply edited — flashing clips of their choreography intercut with profile shots, shadowplay, and a single whispered lyric:"Between light and silence, we chose to sing."
The fan theories exploded instantly.
"Who's the main vocal?""The one with the silver hair looks dangerous.""Is the center the guy who doesn't smile?""The tall one's eyes are haunted. I'm IN.""Haru is giving ghost prince energy."— which Minju found hilarious.
"I am the ghost," she cackled. "You're just cosplaying."
That afternoon, Eclipse had their first real schedule: a panel segment on IdolOn, the web variety show that soft-launched nearly every major rookie group.
The studio was a mix of playful pastels and set-piece props. Cameras were already rolling when they arrived — boom mics lowered, makeup artists brushing final powder strokes, staff murmuring cues.
Haru tugged at his in-ear mic. "Why is this scarier than singing live?"
"Because this is where they meme you forever," Minhee said solemnly.
Shiro clapped him on the back. "We got this. Just follow my lead."
Seojun muttered, "That's exactly what we're not going to do."
The show was chaotic.
In the best way.
Minhee got tricked into a spicy food challenge and screamed like a cartoon character. Riki deadpanned so perfectly that even the hosts laughed. Shiro rapped a tongue twister challenge backwards. Seojun ended up arm-wrestling the host and won.
And Haru?
Haru surprised everyone.
He was quiet at first, answering politely, but when the segment turned to "Who's most likely to survive a horror movie?" he tilted the mic toward himself and said, "Well… I already live with a ghost."
Everyone laughed.
Even Seojun.
Even the staff behind the cameras.
No one knew it was true.
Except Minju — who floated behind the light rig grinning ear to ear.
"See?" she whispered. "You're getting scary good at this."
After the shoot, they stood outside the studio, evening air cooling their sweat-damp shirts.
No fans yet. Not officially.
But someone across the street recognized them and shouted, "ECLIPSE! HARU!"
They froze.
Then Minhee waved back with both hands, eyes wide.
Riki nudged Haru. "Go."
Haru hesitated.
Then lifted his hand and waved.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
Back in the dorm, their first edited stage practice video dropped.
Two hours later, it hit a million views.
Comments flooded in.
"The silver-haired one sings like he's bleeding.""I didn't know I could fall for five people at once.""Who's Haru? Because I'm ready to emotionally attach recklessly."
Minju watched Haru scroll silently through the reactions, his expression unreadable.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
He set the phone down.
"I don't know if I'll ever be ready for this," he said.
She floated closer. "That's the point. You won't be ready. You'll just show up anyway."
And he did.
That night, as the lights in the dorm flickered off one by one, Haru stayed awake a little longer.
The others were asleep. Minju hovered nearby, watching the moonlight catch in his hair.
He opened his notebook — not the old one, not the songs from before.
A new one.
The first blank page.
He picked up a pen.
And wrote one line:
"This is where we start burning."