The practice room smelled like old sweat and broken dreams, the kind of scent that clings to mirrors long after everyone else has gone home. I stood alone under the fluorescent lights, chest heaving, ponytail half-collapsed, legs trembling from the twentieth run-through of a choreography I still couldn't nail. My reflection stared back at me like it was disappointed too. Kang Yoona, twenty-one years old, five years deep in trainee hell, and still the girl who trips on the second verse every single time.
I wiped my face with the sleeve of my oversized hoodie. The clock on the wall read 2:47 a.m. Everyone else had left hours ago—Chaewon to study lines, Minseo to stretch in private, Hyejin to raid the convenience store for ramyeon. I stayed because leaving felt like admitting defeat. Again.
The evaluation had been brutal. Five stern faces behind a long table. "Good energy, Yoona-ssi, but the pitch is unstable. Footwork lacks sharpness. Visuals… passable." Passable. That word had landed like a slap wrapped in velvet. I'd bowed so low my forehead almost kissed the floor, thanked them for their honest feedback, and walked out with my dignity in shreds.
Now the room was silent except for my ragged breathing and the faint buzz of the air conditioner. I dropped to the floor, knees hitting the wood with a dull thud. My phone lay beside me, screen cracked, notifications off because who would text me at this hour anyway? Not my parents, who'd stopped asking about debut dates. Not my old high-school friends, who'd moved on to university and boyfriends and actual lives.
I pulled my knees to my chest. The tears came fast and ugly, the kind that make your nose run and your throat burn. "I just want to stand on that stage," I whispered into the empty room. "Even once. Just once. I'll do anything. Anything."
The words felt ridiculous even as they left my mouth. Dramatic. Childish. The kind of thing trainees say in their first year, not their fifth. But tonight the desperation tasted different. It tasted final.
I pressed my forehead to my knees and screamed into the fabric of my pants, muffling the sound so the security guard downstairs wouldn't come running. "Anything!" The cry ripped out of me again, louder this time, raw and wild. "I don't care what it costs! Just let me shine. Please. Please."
Silence answered. Thick, mocking silence.
Then the lights flickered.
Just once. A quick stutter, like someone had flipped the switch and changed their mind. I lifted my head, blinking through wet lashes. The room looked the same. Mirrors. Water bottles. The faded motivational poster that read NEVER GIVE UP in peeling Hangul.
I laughed, short and bitter. "Yeah. Right."
I pushed myself up, joints popping, pride stinging worse than my blistered feet. Time to go home. Time to sleep. Time to wake up tomorrow and try again, because that's what we do. We try again.
As I reached for my bag, something moved in the corner of my vision.
A tiny shadow on the windowsill.
I froze.
There, bathed in the weak moonlight filtering through the blinds, sat the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen.
She couldn't have been taller than thirty centimeters. Pink frilly dress, ribbons everywhere, fluffy white-pink hair that looked like cotton candy had exploded. Two little black horns poked through the curls like forgotten hair accessories. Translucent wings shimmered behind her, thin as dragonfly glass. And those eyes—huge, hot-pink, sparkling with something far too clever for something so cute.
She tilted her head, smiled with too many teeth, and clapped her tiny hands once, delighted.
"Hi, baby girl~" Her voice was sugar-crusted aegyo, high and sweet enough to rot molars. "I'm Ae-Ri, your cutest forever fan ♡ You wished so hard, so I came running!"
I stared. My brain short-circuited.
She floated off the sill, wings buzzing softly, and hovered right in front of my face. Up close she smelled faintly of strawberry candy and something metallic, like coins left too long in a pocket.
"You said anything," she singsonged, twirling in midair. "Anything at all. That's a very dangerous word, superstar. Lucky for you, I'm in a generous mood tonight."
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.
Ae-Ri giggled, the sound like wind chimes made of broken glass. "Don't look so shocked! You called me here. Now tell me…" She leaned in so close her ribbon brushed my cheek. "Are you ready to pay the price?"
The room felt suddenly too small. The air too thick.
I should have run.
I should have screamed.
Instead I whispered, hoarse and trembling, "What price?"
Her grin stretched wider. "Oh, honey. We're going to have so much fun finding out~"
And just like that, the lights flickered again.
This time they didn't come back on right away.