I peeled the sweat-soaked silk shirt from my torso, grateful to escape the clinging fabric.
The simple black T-shirt and sweatpants waiting in my assigned locker felt like heaven against overheated skin.
Around me, teammates chattered while changing—excitement still crackling through every word despite exhaustion dragging at their movements.
I dressed quickly, avoiding the mirrors.
The less I saw of my disheveled appearance, the better.
"Jiwon?" Bora appeared in the doorway, holding her makeup kit.
Relief washed through me at her familiar presence.
She gestured toward an empty station near the back.
I followed, sinking into the chair with a grateful sigh.
Bora's hands were gentle as she began removing the stage makeup.
"That was incredible." Her voice stayed low, meant only for my ears.
"I watched from the wings. When Haejun appeared—" She shook her head. "The audience lost their minds."
"He shouldn't have performed." Guilt crept back in. "His shoulder—"
