The day started like any other.
Stretching at 7 a.m., vocal warm-ups by 8, dance drills at 9. Same moves, same mirrors, same aching shoulders.
But the air was different.
Because today, the fandom had a name.
"Umbra" — chosen through a fan vote that ended overnight.
Haru first saw it trending on the company chat feed.#WelcomeUmbra#EclipseAndUmbra
Minju hovered above his phone, squinting. "Umbra? Sounds like a shadow Pokémon."
"It's Latin," he muttered. "It means 'shadow cast by light.'"
She tilted her head. "So… they're your shadow?"
"More like the ones walking beside us," he said softly.
Minju paused, watching him. "You've gotten really poetic lately. It's suspicious."
The company gave them one hour off before their next schedule. Just enough time for ramen from the convenience store and a walk around the side alley that wrapped behind the building.
That's when it happened.
They ran into fans.
Not a swarm — just three. Young, maybe high school-aged. One wore an Eclipse pin. Another had Riki's sticker on her phone.
They froze. So did the boys.
No security. No staff.
"Are you… Haru?" one girl asked.
He nodded.
A beat passed. Then she handed him a folded letter with both hands.
"I just wanted to say thank you. For the song."
His throat tightened.
He took it gently. "Thank you."
They left without asking for photos. Without screaming. Just wide-eyed and glowing.
Shiro clapped him on the back the second they turned the corner.
"You're officially someone's light now," he grinned.
Minhee wiped a fake tear. "My boy is growing up."
Seojun rolled his eyes but smiled — just a little.
But fame didn't only bring letters.
Later that day, the company called them in.
"You're going viral again," their manager said. "But not just in a good way."
He turned the monitor.
There it was:
A split screen of Haru from an old trainee evaluation, side-by-side with his teaser footage.
"How did this guy debut as main vocal?""He looked completely average a year ago.""Wasn't he ranked 13th at one point?""Eclipse is perfect except him.""Nepotism? Hidden sponsor?"
Haru's ears rang.
He read every word.
Didn't blink.
Minju sat frozen near the speaker in the corner. She looked like she might break something.
Yoon Haejin didn't flinch. "We expected this. The moment someone rises, others try to drag them down. Stay off social media tonight."
"Should we respond?" Seojun asked.
"No," she said. "We prove them wrong on stage."
That night, Haru didn't sleep.
He sat in the practice room again, hoodie over his head, notebook open.
Minju hovered near the piano, arms crossed.
"You're not seriously letting this get in your head?" she said, voice brittle.
"I'm not." A pause. "I'm just… trying to hold it."
"Hold what?"
He looked at her.
"Both truths. That I worked for this. And that some people will never think I deserve it."
Minju's face softened.
She floated lower, voice quieter now. "You helped me remember who I was. You gave me peace. You were never supposed to be perfect, Haru. You were just supposed to be real."
He nodded once.
Then went back to the keys.
Played through the chorus of Eclipse three times until it didn't sting anymore.
The next morning, the staff posted new solo teasers.
Haru's was last.
No text. Just a shot of him standing in the dark, then slowly turning toward the light as the camera pulled back. Eyes steady. No smile. Just presence.
Within an hour, the top comment read:
"I take it back. He doesn't need to prove anything. That look says it all."
He didn't reply.
Didn't repost it.
Didn't even screenshot it.
He just stood in the dorm bathroom, splashing water on his face, breath steady.
Minju leaned against the wall, grinning.
"Guess what?" she whispered.
"What?"
"You're starting to scare them."
"Why?"
"Because you're not breaking."