The track started.
Heavy beat. Addictive. The kind of sound that crawled into your bones whether you wanted it or not.
"Catch me in the dark, when the stars don't shine,
Follow the light, let it burn, let it bind.
Lumen in your eyes, secrets you can't hide,
We'll take you higher—come into the night."
The chorus burst out. Catchy. Strange.
Voices overlapping—smooth and sharp all at once.
"Light me up, LUMEN,
Fire in my veins,
Call my name, LUMEN,
Dance away the chains."
The repetition. The chant of their group's name. It stuck instantly.
Even the crew hummed along without realizing. Feet tapping. Heads nodding.
Soorin stood at the back with the other stylists, kit bag slung over her shoulder.
She tried to watch objectively.
She really did.
But her gaze kept snagging on one person.
Haejin.
He transformed right in front of her eyes.
Onstage—even in rehearsal—he wasn't the cold, cruel tyrant who'd sneered at her mistakes. He was radiant. Every movement sharp. Precise. Every note perfect.
When he sang, his voice carried something raw. An ache that tugged at your chest.
And when his smile appeared—sweet, gentle—it was like the sun breaking through clouds.
Soorin's breath caught.
'This… this is the man I admired. The idol on posters. The one whose songs got me through nights I didn't think I'd survive.'
Then it happened.
Part of the choreography—he tugged his tank top up. Flashing toned abs. The sharp dip of his v-line.
The stylists around her gasped. Giggled. Bit their lips.
Soorin's eyes widened before she could stop them.
Heat flared in her cheeks.
For a second—just a second—her disdain melted into something shamefully primal.
Her heart did this weird stutter thing. Her thighs clenched. The flush heating her face betrayed everything.
'No. Absolutely not.'
She slapped her own cheek lightly. Forced her gaze away.
'He's a tyrant. He's the worst. You're not swooning. Get a grip, Soorin.'
But the damage was done.
When she dared glance up again, she caught him smirking in the mirror.
Directly at her.
'Shit.'
Her stomach dropped.
The rehearsal kept going.
Doyun danced with sharp, fierce energy—every step snapping like a whip.
Jisoo radiated pure joy, bouncing even through the hardest moves. His smile was infectious.
Taekyung's rap lines rumbled like thunder, body moving with controlled swagger.
Minjae's sweet voice cut through it all—warm, sincere, binding the group's sound together.
But no matter how hard she tried, her eyes kept drifting back to Haejin.
The dragon at the center of it all.
★☆★☆★☆
When the song ended, the room erupted in claps.
The choreographer grinned, patting Minjae's shoulder. "Perfect. You'll kill it live."
The members bowed, sweat slicking their brows.
Rehearsal was officially over. Hours of relentless repetition finally done.
Crew members rushed forward with towels. Water bottles.
And then—suddenly—Haejin transformed again.
He bowed low. Smile dazzling. Eyes kind.
"Thank you for your hard work," he said sweetly to the sound team. "You always take care of us."
To the stage director: "You adjusted the lighting perfectly. We really appreciate it."
To the camera operator: "The angle you suggested—it captured us well. Thank you."
Every word polite. Dripping with gratitude.
Every bow perfect. Deep enough to radiate respect.
The staff beamed. Bowed back. Charmed.
This was the idol they adored—flawless, humble, shining.
Soorin's jaw nearly dropped.
His smile looked boyish. Almost shy.
His tone respectful.
He even added, "I know we cause trouble sometimes, but we're grateful for all your effort."
The staff melted.
One stylist giggled, clutching her brush to her chest.
Another whispered, "He's so polite."
Soorin's fists tightened around her bag strap.
'Polite? This is the same man who just called me a pig in front of everyone.'
She stood stiffly at the edge, forcing a polite smile while her brain screamed.
'Two-faced dragon. He spits venom in private, but in public? Angel of the century. And of course everyone buys it.'
Her jaw ached from forcing the grin.
'God, he was my bias. I dreamed about this job. And this—this devil is what I get? At least Minjae's sweet. Jisoo's adorable. Doyun's tolerable. Taekyung's annoying but… whatever. And Daehyun's been nice. But him? Devil. Absolute devil.'
She didn't realize she'd muttered aloud until the words slipped past her lips.
Too soft for most.
But sharp enough for one.
"Two-faced dragon."
The moment it left her mouth, her stomach dropped.
'He heard me, didn't he?'
She deadpanned internally, cringing.
There was no way her gut was wrong. Not when it came to getting caught red-handed in awkward situations.
When she looked up, he was staring straight at her.
'Ah… yeah. As expected.'
She let out a low chuckle at how stupid she felt.
The chatter around them blurred.
The heavy beat of the music faded.
All she could feel was the weight of his presence. The thundering of her own heartbeat.
His gaze pinned her in place. Sharp. Unrelenting.
Slowly—deliberately—his lips curved into a mocking grin.
He stepped closer.
Each movement fluid. Predatory.
He leaned down. Close enough that only she could hear.
His breath warm against her ear.
"If you hate me already," he whispered, voice low, intimate, poisonous, "you should quit." His smirk widened. "Or… maybe you're just obsessed?"
The world tilted.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Fury and unwanted heat tangling in her veins.
But she refused to give him the satisfaction of flinching.
She tilted her chin. Met his gaze head-on.
"Dream on, dragon," she muttered. "The only obsession here is your ego."
His chuckle was soft. Dark.
Far too dangerous.
"Well done, little piglet," he murmured, lips curving into a dangerous smirk as he brushed past her shoulder. "Day one didn't break you."
He paused.
His gaze lingered. Sharp as fire.
"But our next meeting…"
He leaned in just slightly.
"You might squeal."
Soorin froze.
Eyes wide. Mouth parting in disbelief.
The only words that tore out of her throat were raw. Breathless. Furious.
"What the fuck?!"