The remaining days blurred together—morning practice with Haejun, team rehearsals, meals with my roommates, and evening run-throughs until my muscles screamed.
Each day brought new confidence. The crimson ribbons no longer felt foreign in my hands.
My voice grew stronger during the vocal climaxes and more controlled during the delicate verses.
Even the complex choreography became second nature, my body memorizing every silk-wrapped movement until I could perform them with my eyes closed.
Haejun pushed us relentlessly, but I matched his intensity. When other trainees stumbled through transitions, I flowed seamlessly.
When they gasped through harmonies, my breath control held steady.
The transformation felt complete.
Whatever had happened between us in that maintenance alcove—whatever boundaries we'd crossed—unlocked something in my performance that I didn't know existed.
Now I lay rigid in my bunk, staring at the ceiling while Jisoo's gentle snores drifted from below.
