Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Present Day: 10 Minutes to Debut

Location: Seoul – Backstage, Global Debut Showcase

The air in the holding room was thick with the scent of hairspray, expensive perfume, and the kind of ozone-heavy tension that only exists seconds before a lightning strike.

Kira stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at a reflection that felt like a stranger. For nearly three years, this day had been a distant mountain peak she was clawing toward; now that she was standing on the summit, she could hardly breathe. 

She was debuting today. 

After this, there was no turning back. 

Her world was about to tilt on its axis, and she knew it. 

Not many people ever experienced a moment like this—the terrifying clarity of knowing that a single three-minute performance would change the trajectory of their life forever.

She was dressed in a stylized school uniform—a classic K-pop aesthetic, but with a sharp, aggressive twist. Their debut concept was a high-stakes poker game, a battle of wits and nerves. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ballet-tight ponytail, sleek and severe. She looked exactly like the "Ice Queen" the teasers had promised: untouchable, lethal, perfect.

The song required a "hard" choreography, the kind of powerful, synchronized movement usually reserved for boy groups, pitting the members against one another. Blue team versus Red team.

Suddenly, a familiar warmth bloomed against her lower back. A chin hooked over her shoulder, and the mirror was no longer reflecting a solitary statue. Yumeko was there, her eyes sparking with that signature, effortless light. She looked like the sun caught in the sharp lines of a designer blazer.

"Kira-chan," Yumeko whispered. She used that specific tone, the one reserved only for the quiet spaces between them. "Breathe. You’re the most prepared out of all of us."

Kira finally let out the breath she’d been holding since the 4:00 AM makeup call. She leaned back just a fraction, letting her weight rest against Yumeko’s steady frame. "The stage is bigger than the practice room," Kira murmured, her voice low and raspy.

Yumeko squeezed Kira’s waist, her thumbs tracing the fabric of the uniform. "Everything is bigger now. But we are still the same." Yumeko caught Kira's gaze in the glass and winked. "It’s just you and me now, against a bigger world."

"You look cute in red," Kira said, a small smirk playing on her lips as she winked back, making Yumeko giggle.

"And you own the color blue. We’re perfect for each other," Yumeko replied easily.

"We’re supposed to be enemies, remember?" Kira reminded her.

It was true for the cameras. In the choreography, Kira and Yumeko had a center breakdown where they circled each other like predators about to strike. They were the faces of their respective "teams."

"In like an enemies-to-lovers kind of way, right?" Yumeko asked with a devilish smile.

Kira rolled her eyes, though the tension in her shoulders was vanishing. "You read too many romance books, Jabami."

"And you act like every main character in my books, Timurov," Yumeko countered with another wink.

Just like that, the shaking stopped. Yumeko always had that power—the ability to make Kira forget the weight of the world. Kira couldn't help but get lost in the other girl’s orbit. 

Yumeko was born with a natural magnetism, a light that captured every lens and every heart in the room. It was why she was the center and the visual; she had the kind of charisma that made people fall in love in seconds. She was already the most popular trainee in the lineup, and they hadn't even stepped onto the stage yet.

Kira didn’t mind. How could she? She was a fan herself, even from inside the group. 

But she knew some of the other members felt the sting of it. The insecurities were natural. They had been raised in a hyper-competitive, cutthroat environment for years, and the reality hadn't quite sunk in for everyone yet: they didn't have to fight each other anymore.

They had made it. They were a group. Their lives were now intertwined forever.

Suddenly the heavy door of the holding room swung open, and a floor manager with a headset stepped in, holding up two fingers. "Two minutes! In-ear check, everyone. Positions in sixty!"

The room erupted into a final, frantic blur of activity. Stylists lunged forward for one last dusting of powder, and assistants ducked through the chaos to hand out water bottles with straws. Amidst the flurry, Kira’s eyes remained locked on the monitor mounted in the corner.

The screen flickered, a high-definition VHS filter giving the footage a gritty, cinematic texture. A heavy, distorted bassline pulsed through the walls, vibrating in Kira’s chest.

"Look," Yumeko whispered, her shoulder brushing Kira’s as she nudged her arm. "It’s starting."

The screen cut to black before exploding with sharp, chrome lettering: THE HIGH STAKES.

The Strategist: Riri appeared first, bathed in a soft yellow glow. She sat at a card table, looking down at her hand with a quiet, focused intensity that felt like a warning. In the corner of the frame, a yellow cat hissed playfully.

The High Roller: Mary burst onto the screen next, regal in orange. She sported her signature hairstyle—already a viral fan favorite—and tossed a stack of chips into the air with the confidence of someone who owned the casino. A fox tail flickered behind her.

The Dealer: Jennifer followed, looking effortlessly sassy in pink. She shuffled a deck with lightning speed, her gaze smart and calculating. A tiny pink chick perched on her shoulder, a soft contrast to her fierce, "call-your-bluff" stare.

The Wildcard: Sayaka appeared in a wash of ethereal white. She looked sweet and almost clumsy as she dropped a card, only for the camera to reveal it was an Ace hidden in plain sight.

The Ace of Hearts: Bora, the Maknae, owned the screen in vibrant purple. She was pure energy, rapping a fast-paced verse directly into the lens while a digital butterfly danced around her. She was the spark plug, the life of the party.

Then, the music shifted—dropping into a deep, rhythmic throb.

The King of Diamonds: Kira stood in a column of ice-blue light. She didn't smile; she didn't even move. she simply stared into the soul of the camera, her discipline radiating off her like heat. She looked matured, mysterious, and in total control. The silhouette of a fish glided through the digital water behind her.

The Queen of Hearts: Yumeko finished the sequence in a flash of red. She blew a kiss to the camera, her flirtatious nature grounded by the bunny ears she formed with her fingers.

The VCR ended with all seven girls in a line: the Red Team (Yumeko, Bora, Mary) facing off against the Blue Team (Kira, Riri, Jennifer, Sayaka).

Under the roar of the backstage prep, Kira felt Yumeko’s hand find hers. They squeezed tight—a silent, private communication. We did it. They looked at their on-screen personas—the perfect, polished idols—and shared a small smile. Only they knew how much bluffing it had taken to get here.

Kira’s mind slipped, caught in the gravity of the past. The silver silk and the screaming fans faded, replaced by the scent of cheap floor wax and the humid, heavy heat of a California summer.

Three Years Earlier: The First Meeting

Location: Los Angeles – Global Trainee Housing

The "Global Group" project had started as a chaotic experiment. Forty girls from forty different backgrounds shoved into a dormitory in East LA, all competing for the chance of occupying one of the seven spots.

Kira sat on her assigned bunk, her suitcase already unpacked and organized with military precision. Her dance shoes were lined up by heel height; her practice clothes were folded into perfect, sharp-edged squares. 

To Kira, discipline was a shield.

If she was the most prepared, she couldn't be hurt. If she was the most focused, she wouldn't have to feel the crushing weight of her father’s disappointment.

He hadn't wanted her here.

He didn't understand her love for music; to him, dance and song were merely disciplines to be mastered for power, respect, and superiority—not passions to be felt.

But Kira loved music more than anything. 

Since she was a little girl, the only true comfort she’d known was the weight of a guitar in her lap and the scratch of a pen against a lyric notebook. 

Debuting in a girl group hadn't been her original plan, but when the opportunity called her name, it felt like destiny. The scouts had been impressed immediately—her vocals were soaring, her ballet background gave her an elite edge, and her fluent English made her an "ace" candidate.

Suddenly, the door to the room kicked open—literally.

A girl stumbled in, lugging two oversized suitcases that looked ready to burst at the seams. A stuffed animal’s leg poked out of one zipper, and a bag of Japanese snacks was precariously balanced on top.

The girl gasped something breathless in Japanese, letting the bags collapse to the floor with a loud, echoed thud.

Kira didn't move. She watched from her bed, arms crossed and expression flat. The newcomer straightened up, huffing a stray lock of dark hair out of her face. She looked like a whirlwind had just deposited her there. Her hoodie had a faint iced-coffee stain, and she was wearing two different colored socks.

The girl noticed Kira, and her eyes doubled in size. "Oh! Hello!" she chirped in English, her accent thick and bright. "I am... Yumeko! Nice to... meeting!"

Kira looked at the offered hand, then at the messy pile of luggage barricading the walkway. "Kira," she replied shortly. "Your bags. They are in the way."

Yumeko blinked, tilting her head like a curious puppy. She didn't seem to grasp the words, but she caught the frost in the tone. Most people would have recoiled. Yumeko just beamed wider.

"Kira! Like... 'Kirakira'?" Yumeko mimicked a sparkling motion with her fingers. "Sparkle-chan?"

"No," Kira said, her voice dropping an octave into a warning. "Just Kira."

Yumeko laughed—a loud, uninhibited sound that seemed to vibrate through the small, sterile room. She flopped down on the unmade bed opposite Kira, her legs swinging. "Just Kira." She paused, studying her roommate. "You... very..." She searched for the word, mimicking Kira’s stiff, regal posture. "...Elegant? Like... Princess?"

Kira felt a flush of irritation—or perhaps embarrassment—creep up her neck. She stood abruptly, grabbing her dance bag. "I am going to the studio. Do not touch my things."

As Kira marched toward the door, she heard Yumeko call out behind her. "Wait! Studio? I come too! We... dance-u?"

Kira didn't wait. She hurried down the hallway, her heart drumming a steady, disciplined beat. She didn't need a roommate, especially not one so messy and loud.

She didn't know yet that the girl with the mismatched socks would be the only person who could ever make her feel like home.

Present time

Kira’s grip on Yumeko’s hand tightened, pulling her back from the memory of that humid LA dormitory and into the electric, ozone-heavy reality of the now.

The floor manager began the final countdown, his voice cutting through the localized chaos of the wings. "Ten seconds! Standby for the pre-recording!"

The seven girls moved as one, a synchronized unit forged through three years of blood, sweat, and secret tears. They stepped out of the shadows and onto the black-glossed stage. Unlike a stadium, the space was intimate but intense—surrounded by flashing LED screens, massive camera cranes that swung like predators, and a few hundred fans packed into the pit. These were the ones who had followed every teaser, every "leak," and every rumor.

Kira took her place at the head of the formation, her "King of Diamonds" persona snapping into place. Beside her, Yumeko’s playful energy sharpened into the lethal, magnetic charisma of the "Queen of Hearts."

Then, the fan chants began—coordinated, loud, and echoing through the studio. They were shouting the members' names, a rhythmic roar that made the floorboards vibrate.

"KIRA! YUMEKO! RIRI! MARY! SAYAKA! BORA! JENNIFER! L-SINS!"

The screen behind them exploded into a kaleidoscope of red and blue light, flickering with the neon glow of a high-stakes casino.

The heavy, metallic bass notes of their debut single, "ALL-IN," shook the air.

Kira caught Yumeko’s eye for one last split second before the red light on the main camera flickered on. In that moment, the "Ice Queen" vanished, replaced by a girl who finally knew where she belonged and the world finally got to see the hand they were holding.

Chapter Text

The seven of them were currently sprawled across the dorm floor, a tangle of tired limbs and lingering adrenaline, trying to reach a consensus on what to order in.

They were used to dorm life by now—they’d lived in each other’s space for years—but tonight, the air in the room felt fundamentally different. They weren't just trainees anymore; they weren't just seven girls sharing a cramped space and a dream. 

They were a global group.

It didn't matter that it had only been their first show. It didn't matter that the world didn't truly know them yet. It was real. 

Three years of aching for this day, and they’re finally here.

Kira, however, was having trouble processing the shift. 

She sat slightly apart from the noise, her back against the sofa. The members were used to her quiet moods; they knew their leader was just running low on social battery.

The truth was, Kira was naturally antisocial. She preferred the silence of her own head, but three years of training had hammered that habit out of her. 

You couldn't be a K-pop idol and a ghost at the same time. You needed a "big" personality to gain a fandom. You had to be on all the time.

Yumeko always told her that fans would fall in love with her regardless, but Yumeko was biased. Yumeko saw a version of Kira that didn't exist to the public—a version that was soft, gentle, and warm. 

A version that existed just for her. 

“Kira, do you want me to order for you?” 

The voice was soft, breaking through Kira’s trance. It was Sayaka.

Sayaka was the only other member who truly understood the weight of being an introvert—well, besides Riri, of course.

But Riri was different. Riri was blood. They’d had their whole lives to learn how to navigate each other’s silences.

With the other girls, the bond was more delicate—a friendship forged in the high-pressure life of the trainee system.

Some ties were stronger than others of course. 

There was the intense, magnetic pull between her and Yumeko, but then there was the steady, reliable history she shared with Sayaka.

In the beginning, Kira hadn't trusted Yumeko’s whirlwind energy. It was Sayaka she had leaned on. 

Sayaka was easy to rely on; she listened, she worked until her feet bled, and more importantly she never pushed Kira’s boundaries. 

Even now, Sayaka held an immense, almost reverent respect for her. She was the one who constantly reminded Kira that she wouldn't have made the final lineup without her—that Kira was the only leader LUCKY SINS could ever have.

Kira wasn’t so sure. 

She had the discipline, yes. She could keep a schedule and a formation. But did she have the heart to lead six other lives?

She looked up, realizing she’d been silent for too long. 

Both Sayaka and Yumeko were watching her expectantly.

“Yes, please. Thank you, Sayaka,” Kira answered, offering a small, genuine smile.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kira saw Yumeko’s expression flicker. A subtle tightening of her jaw, a faint shadow over her bright eyes.

Yumeko was possessive like that—she wanted to be the one who knew Kira’s order, the one who took care of the Leader. It was a trait that often caused friction within the group’s ecosystem, a "sin" Kira was still trying to help her manage.

“I could’ve ordered for you too. I know what you like anyway,” Yumeko muttered, loud enough only for Kira to hear. She leaned back, her shoulder bumping Kira’s with a territorial sort of playfulness. “You would’ve gotten the spicy ramen with the extra egg. Right?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’ll give you a star tomorrow” Kira teased the other girl. 

Yumeko beamed, the "star" comment successfully diffusing the tension in her jaw. She leaned her head on Kira’s shoulder, a silent claim that everyone in the room noticed but no one dared to comment on.

"Only one star?" Yumeko pouted, though the sparkle was back in her eyes. "I think I deserve at least three."

"Don't push your luck, Jabami," Kira murmured, though she didn't pull away.

Across the room, Mary clapped her hands together, shifting the mood from introspective to practical. As the oldest, she often acted as the group’s secondary anchor, the "Mom" who kept the wheels turning when Kira was stuck in her own head.

"Okay, food is ordered. We have exactly forty-five minutes to eat, shower, and stare at a wall before we have to go into 'Idol Mode' again," Mary announced, checking her phone. "Manager-nim just sent the updated itinerary. The 5:00 AM radio show moved up to 4:45. They want us there early for a tech check."

The collective groan that rippled through the room was almost musical.

"4:45?" Bora wailed, clutching her butterfly-printed pillow. "That's not a wake-up call, that's a late-night snack time! I haven't even taken my glitter off yet!"

"At least we’re doing it together," Sayaka added softly, her eyes flitting toward Kira for approval. "Right, Kira?"

Kira looked around the room. She saw Riri quietly tidying up the discarded stage accessories, Mary trying to coordinate the shower schedule, and Yumeko—who was currently trying to see how many of Kira's fingers she could interlace with her own.

The weight of leadership felt heavy, but as she looked at them, the pressure felt a little less loud.

"Together," Kira confirmed, her voice steady. "But if anyone is late for the van, I’m letting the stylists choose your hair accessories for the next week."

"Not the pigtails again!" Bora shrieked, scrambling to her feet to find her towel.

The room broke into a flurry of motion. The quiet, reflective bubble had burst, replaced by the frantic, beautiful chaos of a group that had finally, officially, arrived.

As Kira watched them, she realized Sayaka was right about one thing: she wouldn't have made it here alone. 

But as Yumeko squeezed her hand one last time before jumping up to chase Bora to the bathroom, Kira realized that she wouldn’t be here If it wasn’t for the younger girl. 

If Yumeko wasn’t part of the final lineup for this group she wasn’t sure she would be able to do any of this. 

But she is. They are in this together and that’s all that matters.

***

Location: Seoul – K-Broadcasting Radio Studio

Time: 5:00 AM

The studio was small, bathed in the low, cool glow of neon "ON AIR" signs. The girls sat in a semi-circle, oversized headphones over their freshly styled hair. They looked expensive—all silk blouses and dark ribbons—but under the table, Bora was pinching her own leg to stay awake.

The DJ, a cheerful veteran named Min-ho, leaned into his mic. "And we are back with the rookies who are currently breaking the internet! The Seven Aces of LUCKY SINS! Now, we’ve talked about the debut, but let’s talk about the chemistry."

Kira felt Yumeko shift in the seat next to her.

"The fans are already obsessed," Min-ho continued, glancing down at a glowing tablet. "There’s a viral clip of your VCR face-off circulating already. Kira-ssi, they’re calling you the 'Ice King,' but Yumeko-ssi, you’re the 'Queen of Hearts.' Tell us, is it hard to play enemies when you’re roommates?"

Yumeko didn't hesitate for a second. She leaned into her microphone, her eyes sparking with a sudden, sharp energy. "Oh, it’s impossible," she chirped, her voice sounding bright and honey-sweet through the headphones. "How am I supposed to be mean to Kira-chan? Have you seen her?"

The studio felt smaller all of a sudden. Beside them, the other girls let out a chorus of "Oooooo" noises, and Bora made a gagging face into her own mic.

Kira felt a hot, prickling flush crawl up the back of her neck. She kept her expression as flat as possible, her eyes fixed on the jumping green lights of the soundboard. She didn't look to her left; she knew exactly what Yumeko was doing—leaning in, smiling that blinding, practiced smile, waiting for a reaction.

“She’s exaggerating,” Kira said, her voice sounding a bit deeper, a bit dryer through the headphones. 

Yumeko let out a small, offended gasp that was entirely for show, but Kira finally flicked her gaze over—a sharp, 'stop-it' look that only made Yumeko’s grin wider.

“It’s actually the opposite of what the fans think,” Kira continued, turning back to Min-ho with a professional, if slightly stiff, composure. “Playing enemies was the easy part. After living with her for three years, having an excuse to glare at her on camera was actually quite... therapeutic.”

The studio erupted in laughter, the tension breaking as Jennifer and Mary joined in.

“Ouch! That’s our Ice King right there!” Min-ho laughed, scribbling something on his tablet. “So it’s not all hearts and flowers in the dorm?”

“It’s mostly just me trying to get her to turn her music down,” Kira muttered, and though she was acting annoyed, the small, involuntary tug at the corner of her mouth gave her away.

“Thankfully, we had a great leader to guide us,” Jennifer interjected, giving the camera a quick wink.

“And by guiding, she means using those scary eyes to keep us in check,” Bora piped up, grinning.

“That’s the energy of the maknae, everybody! She’s going to be the one to spill all the juicy details,” the host laughed, clearly enjoying the group’s dynamic. “Now, stay tuned for the rest of the episode where we will get to know the girls better and create their official K-pop profiles right here, LIVE!”

The upbeat "break" music began to swell through their headsets. The "ON AIR" light stayed lit for the livestream, but the audio feed cut out.

Yumeko immediately swiveled her chair toward Kira, leaning into her space with a wide, expectant smile. “How did I do?”

Kira rolled her eyes, adjusting the headband of her headphones just to have something to do with her hands. “Decently enough. But you have to remember we're still being filmed even if the fans can’t hear us. So don’t do anything crazy now,” she said. She tried to keep her voice serious, but a tiny, teasing smile betrayed her.

Kira could handle twelve hours of grueling rehearsals. She could learn complex, high-speed choreography in a single afternoon. But radio shows were a different kind of pressure. She felt clumsy with her words, constantly worried that she would say the wrong thing or fail to represent the group correctly. She found it much easier to throw the spotlight to the others and let them do the talking for her.

“I don't think your eyes are scary, by the way,” Yumeko said suddenly, her attention still pinned entirely on Kira.

“That’s because you don’t respect me as a leader,” Kira countered, trying to keep her voice low. “You just do whatever you want anyway.”

Kira rolled her eyes again, but internally, she knew that wasn’t the whole truth. She was just softer with Yumeko than with the others—even if Yumeko was, more often than not, the one who tested her patience the most.

“I do respect you, Kira-san. I respect you and your beautiful, scary eyes,” Yumeko said, her smile widening into something almost blinding.

Before Kira could think of a comeback, the producer signaled that they were about to go live. Since she couldn't answer, she reached out and squeezed Yumeko’s hand under the table—a quick, grounding pressure that lasted only a second before she pulled away.

“And we are back with the seven most sinfully beautiful girls you’ve ever seen! LUCKY SINS, everybody!”

The girls laughed and cheered in response, their voices echoing in the small studio.

“Now, the moment all the fans have been waiting for. Are you guys ready to let your followers know everything about you?” The host looked at them with mock-seriousness.

“Well, five minutes ago I thought I was, but now I’m scared,” Mary answered, leaning toward her mic with a grin. “How about we let our fans know some things instead?”

“Yeah, maybe for our first-year anniversary we can tell them everything,” Bora followed up, nodding sagely.

“First-year anniversary? Bora, I know you’re the youngest, but come on, you’re selling us short,” Jennifer interjected, prompting a round of giggles. “On our third anniversary, maybe we’ll finally tell them the story of our first big fight as a group.”

The host and the girls gasped and laughed in unison.

“Three years can’t come fast enough!” the host replied. “But let’s check with the leader first.” He turned his gaze toward Kira.

“I think we should give the fans what they deserve today,” Kira answered politely, “They’ve been waiting long enough to know our official profiles.”

“The leader is once again absolutely right! This is how it’s going to work,” the host announced. “Each girl will reveal their profile including positions and fun facts about each member!”

“Alright!” The host, leaned back, enjoying the chaotic energy. “Our ‘official mom’ is up first. Mary, tell the world who you are.”

Mary adjusted her headphones, leaning in with the effortless confidence of the eldest. “Hi everyone! I’m Mary, Dancer and apparently the group's resident adult. I’m a Leo, my color is Orange, and my animal is the Fox.”

“Emphasis on the Fox,” Jennifer broke in, her voice dripping with sass. “She’s the most competitive person I’ve ever met. Don't play board games with her unless you want to lose your dignity.”

“It’s not my fault I always win!” Mary laughed, then turned back to the mic. “And a fun fact about me is that I’m the official photographer of LUCKY SINS. If you see a good photo on our page, I took it. If it’s blurry, blame Bora.”

“Hey!” Bora squawked. “They’re artsy! It’s called aesthetic, Mary-unnie!”

“Next!” the host chuckled, pointing to the girl in pink. “The girl who seems to have a very specific branding strategy.”

Jennifer didn't just lean into the mic; she owned it. “Hello, world! I’m Jennifer, the Lead Dancer, Lead Vocalist, and Lead Rapper. I’m a Scorpio, my color is Pink, and my animal is a Chick.” She paused for effect, giving the camera a sultry look. “A fun fact about me? I’m obsessed with the movie Jennifer’s Body and I’d like to dress as the main character for Halloween” she finished winking at the camera. 

“Notice how all the things she loves have her name on them?” Bora whispered loudly, garnering a round of snickers. “Jennifer’s Body, 'Jennifer from the Block,' Jenny from Blackpink...”

“When your name is this iconic, you use it, Bora. You’ll understand when you’re older,” Jennifer flipped her hair, though she was smiling. “And yes! I’m also the world’s biggest Jennie stan. If I ever meet her, I’ll probably retire on the spot because my life will be complete.”

“She actually has a shrine in her locker,” Riri murmured quietly, causing the room to explode in laughter.

“Riri! Trainee secrets are supposed to stay in the dorm!” Jennifer gasped, looking scandalized.

Min-ho turned his attention to the girl in yellow, his voice softening to match her energy. “Speaking of our quiet observer... Riri-ssi, the floor is yours.”

Riri looked at the microphone like it might bite her, her hand subconsciously reaching for the hem of Kira’s sleeve. “I’m Riri. Lead Dancer. I’m a Virgo, my color is Yellow, and my animal is a Cat.”

She stopped there, blinking at the soundboard as if she were ready to retreat into her chair.

“Is that it?” Min-ho asked with a grin. “No fun facts? Is the Cat keeping your tongue?”

“Oh!” Riri’s eyes went wide. “I... I forgot.”

“She’s shy,” Mary said softly as she reached over to pat Riri’s arm. “But don’t let her fool you. She loses all that shyness the second she’s on stage. She’s the best out of all of us when it comes to those viral dance challenges. Her muscle memory is scary.”

“I don’t know how she memorizes those choreos in five minutes, but she does,” Kira added, giving her sister a supportive nudge.

“A dance machine!” Min-ho teased. “But come on, Riri-ssi. Give us one thing. What do you do when you aren't being a secret weapon?”

Riri looked at Kira for help, but Kira just smiled. Riri leaned back into the mic, her voice a whisper. “I... I really like anime. And drawing.”

“She’s being modest again!” Bora cut in. “She can draw any character from any anime EVER!” the maknae explained enthusiastically. 

Riri smiled shyly at the camera making a “true” gesture with her shoulders. 

“From anime to... pets? Our next member has a very famous dog,” Min-ho said, turning to Sayaka.

Sayaka gave a shy wave, nearly knocking over her water bottle. “I’m Sayaka. Lead Vocalist, Dancer, and Rapper. I’m an Aquarius, my color is White, and my animal is a Bear.”

“And the fun fact?” Jennifer prodded with a smirk.

“I... I love books,” Sayaka said, blushing furiously. “And I have a little puppy named Fishy.”

The studio went silent for a beat before the host burst out laughing. “Fishy? Why Fishy?”

“It’s because she’s obsessed with Kira,” Yumeko interrupted, her tone light but with that sharp, possessive edge. “Kira’s representative animal is a Fish, so Sayaka got a Fishy. It’s very transparent, Sayaka-chan.” she said looking directly at the girl with a smile but also a darkness in her eyes. 

“I had him before I met her!” Sayaka insisted, her face the same color as Yumeko’s red blazer.

“Sure, sure,” Yumeko winked at the camera, then took her turn without being asked. “Anyway! I’m Yumeko, the Visual, Center, and Vocalist! I’m a Sagittarius, my color is Red, and my animal is a Bunny.”

“The loudest bunny in existence,” Kira muttered.

“You love it!” Yumeko chirped, leaning her shoulder into Kira’s. “I’m a massive Taylor Swift fan—my favorite album is Lover—and I hate coffee. I don't understand how Kira drinks it. It tastes like battery acid.”

“It’s called ‘being an adult,’ Yumeko. You should try it sometime,” Kira countered.

“Is nobody going to ask how she knows what battery acid tastes like?” Bora asked with a deadpan expression. The other members ignored her, watching the back-and-forth between Kira and Yumeko with knowing, entertained smiles.

“I’d rather stay a bunny,” Yumeko grinned, completely ignoring the maknae. “Kira drinks so much caffeine her heart beats in 4/4 time. It’s actually concerning.”

“Alright,” Min-ho steered the ship back. “Leader, the fans are waiting. Tell us about you before Yumeko spills everything”

Kira took a slow breath. “I’m Kira. Leader, Main Dancer, and Main Vocalist. I’m a Scorpio, my color is Blue, and my animal is a Fish.”

“A very serious, scary fish,” Bora whispered.

“I play the guitar,” Kira continued, “and I’m a huge film nerd. If I’m not in the studio, I’m probably in a dark room watching a movie.”

“Actually,” Yumeko interrupted, “she doesn't just watch them. She analyzes them. She’ll pause a movie just to explain the cinematography to me while I’m trying to eat popcorn. It’s a struggle, Min-ho-ssi.”

“At least I’m cultured,” Kira shot back, a tiny, rare smirk playing on her lips. Yumeko stuck her tongue out in response.

“Now, Kira-ssi, we heard Riri is the challenge queen,” Min-ho noted, “but you’re the Main Dancer. That’s a lot of pressure, especially with a sister who is also a dance pro. Is there a rivalry there?”

Kira glanced at Riri. She saw her sister’s posture stiffen slightly—the silent, competitive spark they’d both carried since they were children. “We push each other,” Kira said carefully. “And we each have our own style of dancing.”

Riri gave a small, sharp nod, her eyes narrowing in a way that was both respectful and defiant. Beside her, Mary reached out and squeezed Riri’s hand.

“Finally,” the host said, “the baby of the group.”

Bora practically vibrated. “I’m Bora! Main Rapper, Dancer, and Maknae! I’m a Leo, my color is Purple, and my animal is a Butterfly. I love all animals and I’m the TikTok queen!”

“She’s the TikTok nuisance,” Mary corrected. “She’ll set up a tripod in the hallway while we’re carrying groceries.”

“The fans need the content, Mary! I’m doing this for the people!” Bora made a finger heart. “Plus, I’m the only one who can actually do the challenges without looking like I’m having a mid-life crisis.”

“Excuse me?” Jennifer gasped.

The studio was a mess of laughter and overlapping protests—a perfect, chaotic snapshot of seven lives tangled together. As the host tried to regain control, Kira caught Yumeko’s eye. Yumeko was laughing, her head thrown back, looking entirely in her element.

She looked so happy that for a moment, Kira forgot about the 4:45 AM call time and the crushing weight of her father’s silence. She just felt... lucky.

***

Time: 8:45 AM

Location: Gangnam Studio B

The fluorescent lights in the studio were brutal, reflecting off the black-glossed floor. The girls were arranged in their official "Royal Row"—a tiered seating arrangement where the taller members stood in the back, while the shorter girls sat tall on stools in the front.

Each wore a structured, tailored blazer in their representative color, accented by a silver animal pin on the lapel. 

But the most arresting detail wasn't the clothes; it was Kira.

While the others wore soft, neutral tones, Kira’s lips were a deep, notorious shade of blue. It was bold, defiant, and perfectly matched the elegant, cold aura of the leader.

The interviewer gave a thumbs up. "Live in three, two, one..."

"Hello! We are here with the girls everyone is talking about—LUCKY SINS! Now, first things first: what is the meaning behind that name?"

The reaction was instantaneous. As if pulled by invisible strings, six heads turned simultaneously toward the center. All eyes landed on Kira.

The interviewer laughed. "Wow! I didn't even have to ask who the Leader was. It’s like a synchronized swimming move—everyone just looks to Kira-ssi for the answers!"

Kira felt a tiny bit of heat rise to her cheeks, but she stepped forward, her posture perfect. “LUCKY SINS is a play on the 'Lucky Seven' and the Seven Deadly Sins,” she said, her voice dropping into her professional 'Identity Speech.' “The 'Luck' part is our debut—the odds were a million to one, but the cards fell in our favor. And the 'Sins' are our seven sinful charms. In our lore, we are the High Rollers of a secret casino where the stakes are hearts. So each member represents a different temptation.”

“So the house always wins?” the interviewer joked.

“Exactly,” Kira said with a sharp smirk. 

“I love it! Now, let’s see some of those sinful skills. Kira-ssi, as the Main Dancer, could you give us the killing part of 'ALL-IN’?”

Bora and Mary started a rhythmic "Heh! Heh!" beat. 

Kira didn't hesitate. She dropped into a low, sharp move, her body snapping with a precision that made the air feel like it had been sliced. It was pure, aggressive power. When she hit the final pose, she stared directly into the lens, her gaze cold and magnetic.

The studio was dead silent for exactly one second before the host shrieked. "Oh my god! I forgot to breathe! Kira-ssi, that was terrifyingly beautiful. I felt like I was being judged by a queen!"

“More like a King,” Jennifer corrected with a smirk, her eyes dancing with mischief. “When Kira dances, she has this way of looking at you like you’re just a pawn in her game.” She finished with a playful shiver.

“It’s very captivating,” Sayaka whispered, her voice a mix of awe and shyness. “Sometimes in practice, I just stop moving because I’m so distracted. She really is the heart of our performance.”

Yumeko, however, didn't stay in her seat. She leaned into Kira’s space, her eyes scanning the Leader's face in a way that was definitely way too intense for a morning show. “Did you see her eyes? They turn so dark when she’s in the zone,” Yumeko mused, her voice low and husky. “It’s my favorite version of her. I think every fan watching just fell in love, but sorry everyone—she’s our Leader first.”

The host let out a breathless laugh, fanning herself with her script. “Well, apparently I’m not the only one crushing on the Leader here! I think I might need to join the fandom myself. Kira-ssi, how do you handle having six girls—and now one interviewer—completely under your spell?”

Kira felt the heat rush to her face, a stark contrast to the cool, defiant shade of her lipstick. She looked down at the floor, her fingers subconsciously tugging at the hem of her blue blazer.

But as the room laughed, Yumeko’s expression shifted.

The bubbly "Queen of Hearts" smile didn't disappear, but it tightened at the corners. 

She didn't look at the host; she looked directly at the side of Kira's head, her hand—which was already resting on Kira's arm—tightening its grip just enough for Kira to feel the pressure of her nails through the fabric of the blazer. It was a silent, territorial claim.

“Our Leader is very popular, isn't she?” Yumeko said, her voice dropping an octave into that husky tone she used when she wasn't performing. She directed a sharp, shimmering look at the interviewer. “But if you’re going to join the fandom, just remember that the line to get to Kira is very, very long. And I’m the one who checks the tickets.”

The studio went quiet for a split second, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on, before Jennifer broke it with a loud, deliberate cackle.

“Ooh, the bunny has claws!” Jennifer teased, leaning back in her seat with a satisfied smirk. She loved watching Yumeko get riled up; it was her favorite sport.

The host laughed nervously, sensing the sudden shift in temperature. “I... I’ll keep that in mind! I definitely don't want to get on Bunny's bad side.”

Kira cleared her throat, her face now a deep shade of pink. “Okay, that’s definitely enough,” she muttered, trying to gently unpuck Yumeko’s fingers from her arm without making it obvious to the cameras. “We have six other members to get through. Can we please move on?”

“Look! She’s blushing!” Bora pointed out, delighted. “The scary fish is blushing!”

“Moving on!” Kira insisted, finally catching Riri’s eye. Her sister was watching the display with a weary, knowing sigh—the look of someone who had seen this possessive dance a thousand times in the dorms.

“Alright, alright!” the interviewer laughed, pivoting to the Center. “Yumeko-ssi! They say you’re the 'Queen of Hearts.' Can you give us a ‘Visual Attack’?”

The studio lights seemed to dim, focusing entirely on the red blazer. Yumeko didn’t need to "switch on"; she just existed in that space of effortless charm. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, red ribbons trailing over her shoulder. She looked into the camera with an expression that was soft, heavy-lidded, and dangerously sweet. Then, she gave a slow, elegant wink.

“Stop! Someone stop the cameras!” the host gasped. “How is she even real?!”

“She’s a living doll,” Mary added, fixing a stray strand of Yumeko’s hair with a proud smile.

“She’s our princess!” Bora cheered from the back. “Give us a cheek-heart, Yumeko-unnie!”

Yumeko obligingly formed a heart with her finger against her cheek, and the staff let out a collective "Aww." 

Kira, usually so tight-lipped, couldn't help but lean back, watching Yumeko with a look of pure, captivated surrender.

“It’s actually a problem,” Kira admitted, her voice low.

“It’s true,” Riri murmured, her reserved face softening. “She has a very… cinematic face. Every angle is the right angle.”

Yumeko giggled, the goddess persona shattering as she leaned her full weight against Kira. “See? Even the Ice King and the Secret Weapon agree! I’m the lucky charm.”

“Anyway!” Jennifer interrupted. “Since we’re talking about talents, Sayaka can hit the highest notes”

Sayaka, who had been watching Kira and Yumeko with a tragic, quiet longing, jumped at her name. She looked at Kira, hoping for a sliver of that "captivated" look Yumeko received.

“Go on, Sayaka, show them,” Kira said softly, her voice holding a special, gentle warmth she only saved for the younger girl.

Sayaka’s heart did a painful somersault. She took a breath and let out a crystal-clear high note that vibrated through the room.

“That’s our lead vocalist!” Bora screamed, wrapping an arm around Sayaka. “Kira-unnie, did you hear that? Our Sayaka is the best, right?”

“She is,” Kira agreed, giving Sayaka an encouraging nod.

“Coming from our main vocalist, that means a lot,” Sayaka answered with a shy, hopeful smile.

Every time Kira complimented her singing, Sayaka's heart did a flip. It was the only time she felt like she truly had Kira’s attention all to herself. She knew their voices were the ones that blended most perfectly together—a private harmony that even Yumeko couldn't touch.

***

11:30 PM Van Ride

The interior of the blacked-out van was a world of muffled engine hums and the soft blue glow of seven phone screens. Outside, the neon lights of Seoul blurred into long, tired streaks of light. After the radio show, the digital interviews, two music show pre-recordings, and a brutal four-hour rehearsal for their upcoming showcase, the chaotic group had finally run out of energy.

Bora was out cold, her head resting on Mary’s shoulder in the back row. Mary was staring out the window, her hand absentmindedly stroking Riri’s hair as the younger girl rested her forehead against Mary’s arm, a rare moment of quiet intimacy away from the rest of the world. 

Riri usually relaxed when they were alone. The girls knew this about her but also expected with time she could show the world the version they know, because they all love that version. 

In the middle row, Yumeko had finally hit a wall. Her "Idol" person had evaporated, leaving behind a girl who just wanted to be held. She shifted, her shoulder-length hair brushing against Kira’s blazer as she let her head fall heavily onto the Leader's shoulder.

“Kira-chan,” Yumeko murmured, her voice small and muffled against the fabric. “My head is spinning. The lights were so bright in those studios.”

Kira didn't push her away. She leaned back, her eyes closed, feeling the weight of the girl who had been her anchor since their first evaluation in a cold basement years ago. But the quiet of the van was never truly silent.

Jennifer was wide awake, rotating her head slowly until her neck let out a loud, audible crack. She let out a long, dramatic exhale, her dark eyes finding Kira’s in the rearview mirror's reflection before she turned in her seat.

“Leader,” Jennifer murmured, her voice a smooth, purr. She didn't wait for an answer; she just leaned across the aisle and turned her back toward Kira, exposing the elegant line of her neck. “My shoulders are killing me. Fix them? You always know exactly where the knot is.”

Kira huffed a small, amused breath, opening one eye to look at the back of Jennifer's head. It was an easy, practiced rhythm between them.

“You’re so spoiled, Jen,” Kira teased, her voice low and steady. She didn't move her shoulder from under Yumeko, but she reached out her free hand, her fingers finding the base of Jennifer’s neck with a firm, professional pressure. “One minute. I’m not a massage therapist.”

“You’re better than one,” Jennifer cooed, leaning back into the touch with a satisfied hum. “Don't stop. Right there.”

The easy flow between them was like a spark in a room full of gasoline. Yumeko’s eyes snapped open. She didn't lift her head, but she tightened her arm around Kira’s waist, her fingers digging into the blue sleeve of the blazer.

“If you’re so tense, Jen, you should do some stretches,” Yumeko muttered, her voice sharp and devoid of its usual sweetness.

“Stretching doesn't feel as good as Kira’s hands, bunny,” Jennifer answered, not even bothering to turn around. She leaned back a little further, a small, triumphant smirk playing on her lips in the shadows.

Kira’s thumb continued its rhythmic work on Jennifer’s shoulder. It was automatic, a habit born of years of looking after the girls. “Relax, Yumeko. You’re next if you promise to behave.”

Yumeko didn't snap. Instead, she let out a long, exaggeratedly loud sigh and went completely limp against Kira, becoming a dead weight. She reached up and, with the practiced entitlement of a pampered princess, took Kira’s wrist and physically dragged her hand away from Jennifer’s shoulder.

“My head hurts more than her neck,” Yumeko muttered, her voice thick with a sleepy edge. She didn't let go of Kira’s hand; she tucked it under her own chin, pinning it there so Kira couldn't move it back. “And you’re shaking the seat. I can’t rest if you’re busy being a chiropractor.”

Jennifer didn't even look offended; she just let out a soft, delighted giggle and turned around in her seat to witness the sulk. “Wow. The Queen of Hearts is really claiming her throne tonight, huh?”

“Go to sleep, Jen,” Yumeko grumbled, her eyes squeezed shut as she burrowed deeper into Kira’s neck. She was being difficult on purpose, making it impossible for Kira to even sit up straight. “Kira’s off duty.”

Kira felt the familiar, exasperated heat rising to her cheeks. She looked at Jennifer, giving a helpless, 'what-can-I-do?' shrug that was entirely too soft for a Leader. She should have told Yumeko to sit up. She should have finished the massage to show no favoritism. But the way Yumeko was clinging to her hand—like a child afraid of being left behind—made her resolve crumble.

“Sorry, Jen,” Kira murmured, her voice holding that easy, secret-language lilt. “Looks like the princess is officially in charge for the night.”

“Clearly,” Jennifer hummed, her eyes flicking between Kira’s tired face and the way Yumeko was practically marking her territory. “I’ll send you my invoice for the unfinished massage tomorrow.”

Yumeko didn't say another word. She just tightened her grip on Kira’s fingers, a silent victory.

In the back row, the silence was heavy. Sayaka stared at the blur of the Han River outside, her throat tight as she processed the scene in front of her.

In the back row, the silence was heavy. Sayaka stared at the blur of the Han River outside, the reflection of her own tired eyes staring back at her in the glass.

She watched the way Kira’s fingers didn't even hesitate when Jennifer asked for the massage—it was so casual, so light. And she watched how, even when Yumeko was being difficult, Kira didn't actually pull away. She just adjusted. 

Kira was always adjusting for Yumeko.

Sayaka’s grip tightened on her bag. She found herself wondering what it would feel like to just… let go. To lean across the aisle and be the one making the jokes, or to be the one demanding Kira’s complete attention. 

But every time she even thought about moving, she felt the invisible barrier of her own role. She was the one who remembered the lyrics. She was the one who listen when everyone else was too tired to do so. She was the "safe" choice, the girl Kira could trust to be fine on her own.

It was a lonely kind of praise.

She looked at Kira’s shoulder—the one currently occupied by Yumeko’s head—and then looked away. She knew if she leaned there, Kira would probably let her, because Kira was a good leader. But Kira wouldn't lean back. Not like she was doing now.

Sayaka closed her eyes, trying to focus on the hum of the engine instead of the soft, private murmurings in the row ahead of her. 

She would stay the reliable one. She would keep her posture straight and her feelings tucked away in the back of her throat, because that was the only version of herself she knew how to give Kira.

The van made a final, smooth turn, the tires humming against the concrete of the underground ramp. The neon streaks of the Han River faded, replaced by the rhythmic pulse of the garage’s yellow safety lights flickering across the ceiling.

Kira felt the shift in the air—the subtle, heavy awareness that their private time was running out. In a few moments, the door would slide open, the manager would give them their morning call time, and she would have to be the "Leader" again. She looked down at the top of Yumeko’s head, feeling the warmth where their temples touched.

“You’re going to have to walk into the building on your own two feet, you know,” Kira whispered, her voice barely a breath against Yumeko’s hair.

“Maybe,” Yumeko breathed. She didn't open her eyes, but the small, triumphant smirk finally touched her lips, settling there like a secret. “But you’re carrying my bag.”

Kira didn't argue. She didn't remind her about the "no favoritism" rule or the fact that she already had her own gear to lug up to the fourth floor. She just let her hand stay pinned under Yumeko’s chin, a silent surrender to the girl who knew exactly how to dismantle her.

Outside, the van hissed to a final stop. But inside, for one last lingering second, the younger girl and her exhausted Leader stayed exactly where they were—locked in a silent promise that some things, at least in the dark, would never change.

Chapter Text

LUCKY SINS (럭키 신즈) is a 7-member global girl group. The lineup consists of: Mary, Jennifer, Kira, Riri, Sayaka, Yumeko, and Bora. They debuted in 2026 with the single "ALL-IN".

LUCKY SINS Fandom Name: (TBD)

LUCKY SINS Official Fan Color: (TBD)

LUCKY SINS Official Greeting: "Bet on us! Hello, we are LUCKY SINS!"

Mary

• Stage Name: Mary (메리)
• Birth Name: — Mary Davis
• Position: Dancer
• Birthday: July 26th, 2001
• Zodiac Sign: Leo
• MBTI: ISFJ
• Nationality: American
• Representative Color: Orange 🧡
• Representative Animal: Fox 🦊 
• Representative Sin: Wrath

Mary Facts:

• She is the oldest member and the “Mom of the Group”.
• She is the official photographer for the group’s social media.
• She is extremely competitive, especially when it comes to board games.
• She often coordinates the dorm schedule and looks after the younger members.

Jennifer

• Stage Name: Jennifer (제니퍼)
• Birth Name: Jenifer García. 
• Position: Lead Dancer, Lead Vocalist, Lead Rapper
• Birthday: November 21th, 2002
• Zodiac Sign: Scorpio
• MBTI: ESTP
• Nationality: Latin/American.
• Representative Color: Pink 🩷
• Representative Animal: Chick 🐥
• Representative Sin: Lust

Jennifer Facts: 

• She is fluent in both English and Spanish. 
• Her dad is Colombian and her mom Chilean.
• She was born in Los Angeles, USA.
• She is a massive Blackpink fan.
• Her favorite movie is Jennifer’s Body.

Kira

• Stage Name: Kira (키라)
• Birth Name: Kira Timurov
• Position: Leader, Main Dancer, Main Vocalist
• Birthday: November 13th, 2002
• Zodiac Sign: Scorpio
• MBTI: INTJ
• Nationality: Russian/Canadian
• Representative Color: Blue 💙
• Representative Animal: Fish 🐟 
• Representative Sin: Pride. 

Kira Facts:

• She is known as the "Ice King" for her cold, magnetic stage presence.
• She’s classically trained in Ballet.
• She plays the guitar and a little bit of drums. 
• She likes to write songs.
• She is a huge film nerd and has a secret Letterboxd account.
• She’s fluent in both Russian and English. 

Riri

• Stage Name: Riri (리리)
• Birth Name: Riri Timurov.
• Position: Lead Dancer, Vocalist.
• Birthday: September 14th, 2003
• Zodiac Sign: Virgo
• MBTI: ISTP
• Nationality: Russian/Canadian
• Representative Color: Yellow 💛
• Representative Animal: Cat 🐱 
• Representative Sin: Sloth

Riri Facts:

• She is the younger sister of the Leader, Kira.
• She is naturally very shy and introverted, but her personality changes completely on stage.
• She can memorize choreography in minutes.
• She loves anime and drawing her favorite characters.
• Her favorite anime is Nana. 
• She’s fluent in both Russian and English and is now learning Japanese. 

Sayaka

• Stage Name: Sayaka (사야카)
• Birth Name: Sayaka Igarashi 
• Position: Lead Vocalist, Dancer, Rapper
• Birthday: February 7th, 2003
• Zodiac Sign: Aquarius
• MBTI: ISFJ
• Nationality: Japanese
• Representative Color: White 🤍
• Representative Animal: Bear 🐻 
• Representative Sin: Envy

Sayaka Facts: 

• She never missed a note or forgets a lyric.
• She has a small puppy named Fishy.
• She loves books and can read multiple at the same time without getting confused.
• She’s fluent in Japanese, English and Korean.
• She can play the piano. 

Yumeko

• Stage Name: Yumeko (유메코)
• Birth Name: Yumeko Jabami
• Position: Visual, Center, Vocalist
• Birthday: November 25th, 2004
• Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius
• MBTI: ENFJ
• Nationality: Japanese/Canadian.
• Representative Color: Red ❤️
• Representative Animal: Bunny 🐰 
• Representative Sin: Greed 

Yumeko Facts:

• She is known as the "Queen of Hearts."
• She is a certified Swiftie and her favorite album is Lover. 
• She hates the taste of coffee.
• She loves cats and wants to adopt one someday. 
• She was a very popular trainee because of her stunning visuals. 
• She learned English during her trainee days and is now fluent in both English and Japanese.
• She can also speak Korean but is not yet fluent.

Bora

• Stage Name: Bora (보라)
• Birth Name: Kim Bo-ra 
• Position: Main Rapper, Lead Dancer, Maknae
• Birthday: August 13th, 2006 
• Zodiac Sign: Leo
• MBTI: ESFP
• Nationality: Korean
• Representative Color: Purple 💜
• Representative Animal: Butterfly 🦋 
• Representative Sin: Gluttony

Bora Facts:

• She is the "TikTok Queen" and often the one in charge of teaching the other girls the latest challenges.
• She is the most energetic member and often spills group secrets.
• She loves all animals and carries a butterfly-printed pillow everywhere.
• She is known for her "glitter" and high-energy rapping.
• She’s fluent in Korean and English

Chapter Text

Location: LUCKY SINS Dorm – 1:30 AM

The dorm was finally quiet, but it wasn't peaceful. It was that heavy, ringing silence that comes after fifteen hours of noise.

In the kitchen, the blue light of the refrigerator hummed. Jennifer was leaning against the counter in an oversized hoodie, her “Idol” posture finally slumped as she stared at a row of yogurt cups like they held the secrets to the universe.

“If you stare at them any longer, they’re going to expire,” a voice murmured from the doorway.

Jennifer didn't turn. She knew the footsteps. “I’m calculating the sugar-to-regret ratio, Kira. It’s a delicate science.”

Kira walked in, her face finally scrubbed clean of the almost unnatural shade of blue lipstick and heavy stage foundation. Without the makeup, she looked younger—less like a king and more like a student who hadn't slept in three days. She grabbed a glass and filled it with water, the sound of the tap echoing in the small space.

“Where’s your shadow?” Jennifer asked, finally picking a strawberry yogurt.

“Yumeko’s in the shower. She’s currently trying to see if she can wash the ‘stress’ away with Mary’s expensive body wash,” Kira said, leaning against the opposite counter.

Jennifer finally looked at her, a sharp, observant glint in her eyes. The flirty banter from the van was gone, replaced by the bluntness they only showed each other when the cameras were dead. “She was a lot today. Even for her.”

Kira looked into her glass. “It’s the debut high. She’s just... wired.”

“She’s marking territory, Kira. There’s a difference,” Jennifer countered, peeling back the foil lid. “The radio host, the interviewer, the van... she’s making sure the 'Ice King' has a very specific Queen. It’s a good narrative for the fans, sure. But in here?” She gestured to the dorm walls. “It makes the air thin for everyone else.”

Kira didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Because Jennifer wasn’t wrong, but admitting it felt like a betrayal.

Before the conversation could go deeper, the floorboards creaked. Sayaka stood in the hallway, clutching a stack of vocal scores to her chest, looking like she’d stumbled into a room she wasn't supposed to be in.

“Oh... I was just getting some tea,” Sayaka whispered, her eyes darting between Jennifer’s knowing smirk and Kira’s tired face.

“It’s okay, Saya. I was going to bed anyway.” Jennifer answered, giving Sayaka’s shoulder a quick, grounding squeeze on her way out.

“Are… are you okay?” Sayaka asked. She turned toward the cabinet, her fingers fumbling uselessly against the handle as she tried to reach her tea, clearly aware of Kira just standing there, watching her.

Kira didn't say anything at first. She just reached past Sayaka, her fingers grazing the tea box on the top shelf. She didn’t hand it over; she just nudged it toward the edge until it was within Sayaka’s reach, then turned her attention back to the kettle.

“Don’t touch the green tea,” Kira said, her voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel. “You’re already jittery. Drink the herbal stuff or you’ll be staring at the ceiling until the 4:00 AM alarm goes off.”

Sayaka let out a long, shaky breath, finally letting her shoulders drop. “Is it that obvious?”

“Your hands are shaking, Saya. Of course it’s obvious.” Kira leaned against the counter, rubbing the side of her neck where the tension always clamped down. “How’s your throat? You sounded a bit thin during the last chorus.”

Sayaka winced, leaning her hip against the fridge. “I felt it. I had to flip to head voice earlier than I wanted to. My mix just wasn't there today.” She looked at Kira, her eyes clouded with exhaustion. “If we have to do that high note live tomorrow, I’m scared I’m going to flat-line it.”

Kira watched the steam curling from the kettle and shrugged one shoulder. “Then flat it. I’m right there on the second harmony. If you drop, I’ll just sing louder. No one’s going to notice but the sound engineer, and he’s probably half-asleep anyway.”

Sayaka looked at her for a second, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through the stress.

“Now try to get some sleep. We’ll need your brain tomorrow for the show,” Kira said. She gave Sayaka’s shoulder a firm, brief pat before turning to head toward her room.

She needed to get out of the kitchen before the mask slipped.

The thing about being the leader of a global group was the realization that she couldn't be fluent in every language her members spoke—not even if she spent every waking hour studying. Today’s schedule had been grueling, but it hadn't been nerve-wracking.

In English, she was in control. She could hold the room.

But tomorrow was their first appearance on a domestic Korean variety show. No translators, no English safety net. 

And If she was being honest with herself, she was losing her mind.

She closed her bedroom door and leaned her head against the cool wood, the silence of the dorm suddenly feeling heavy.

Kira wasn't just tired; she was vibrating with a specific kind of panic she couldn't show the others. She was a control freak by nature—it was the only reason she had survived the trainee years. She mapped out every rehearsal, every vocal run, every camera angle. She liked knowing exactly where the floor ended and the stage began.

But tomorrow, the floor was being pulled out from under her.

She had a few phrases memorized: the official greeting, a few polite bows. But that was it. 

She hated the thought of standing there like a decorative statue while the younger girls—the ones she was supposed to be protecting—steered the ship. It made her feel useless, like a doll just invited there to look pretty.

She moved to her desk and opened her notebook, her eyes scanning the messy phonetic notes she’d scribbled down. “Please look forward to our performance.” “We worked very hard.” It was toddler talk.

She was supposed to be the one who knew the answers, the one who navigated the group through the chaos. But staring at those scribbled lines, she felt the walls closing in. She was going to stand there in front of a national audience and be completely useless. 

A soft click of the door handle broke the silence.

Kira didn't have to turn around. The scent of Mary’s stolen body wash and the quiet, deliberate footsteps told her exactly who it was.

“You’re still up,” Yumeko murmured. She didn't stay by the door; she moved into the room with an effortless grace, stopping right behind Kira’s chair.

Kira tried to close the notebook, but Yumeko’s hand reached over her shoulder, pressing the page flat. Her fingers were warm against the paper.

“It’s late, Yumeko. Go back to your room.” Kira’s voice was thin, the authority she usually carried sounding frayed at the edges.

“I heard you thinking through the wall,” Yumeko whispered. She leaned down, her damp hair brushing against Kira’s cheek as she looked at the frantic, messy notes on the desk. She didn't laugh, and she didn't tease. She just traced one of the lines with her thumb. “You’re doing that thing again. Trying to build the whole stage by yourself.”

“I’m the leader,” Kira muttered, her grip on the pen finally loosening. “I can’t just stand there and say nothing. I’ll look like an idiot.”

“You could never look like an idiot, even if you tried really, really hard,” Yumeko said, her tone unexpectedly serious. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping. “We’re a global group, Kira-ssa. People know we all speak different languages—that’s part of our charm. It’s what connects us to more people. Nobody is expecting you to go out there tomorrow speaking fluent Korean.”

She tapped the notebook, pointing at the scribbled hangul. “That’s why we have Korean members. That’s why we have the Japanese girls who’ve been learning this since they were kids,” she added, gesturing to herself. “We’ve got this. I promise. You just have to trust us. You don’t have to do this all on your own.”

Kira finally looked up at her. In the dim light of the desk lamp, she realized just how much Yumeko had actually grown since the day they met.

The Yumeko from three years ago had been messy and, honestly, quite lazy. She’d spoken in broken English and skipped classes whenever she felt too tired. 

It had been general knowledge during the program that Yumeko was the CEO’s favorite; her visuals were so undeniable that no other trainee could touch the title, and she’d been a bit too comfortable with that knowledge. 

Some of the girls who didn't make the final cut had hated her with a passion that was almost scary.

But those girls hadn't seen what Kira saw. 

They hadn't seen Yumeko taking private English lessons in her rare free time or rehearsing late into the night when the studios were supposed to be empty. 

Kira had been there through all of it, and now, that same girl was the one standing here, offering a hand to the person who usually held everyone else up.

So many things can change in three years.

Kira let out a long, slow breath, the tension in her shoulders finally beginning to crack. “When did you get so smart?”

“I’ve always been smart,” Yumeko smirked, the familiar playfulness returning to her eyes as she squeezed Kira’s shoulder. “You were just too busy worrying about everyone else to notice. Now, close the book. The 'Ice King' needs beauty sleep if we’re going to survive 5:00 AM hair and makeup.”

***

Time: 6:00 AM

The morning air was biting, a sharp contrast to the humid, hairspray-filled chaos of the salon. A line of black vans waited at the curb, their idling engines the only sound in the quiet street.

Kira stood by the van door, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her oversized puffer coat. She looked perfect—her skin glowing under a light layer of "natural" makeup, her hair swept into a sharp, intimidating style—but her eyes were fixed on a spot on the pavement. She was mentally reciting the group’s Korean greeting for the fiftieth time, her lips moving in a silent, desperate rhythm.

“Unnie, if you keep chewing your lip like that, the makeup artist is going to hunt you down with a lip tint,” a bright voice said.

Bora bounced up beside her, looking like she’d had three shots of espresso instead of three hours of sleep. She nudged Kira’s shoulder, her grin wide and completely unafraid.

“You’re shaking,” Bora noted, her voice dropping just enough so the managers wouldn't hear. She reached out and grabbed Kira’s hand, giving it a quick, firm squeeze. “I’ve got the high-energy parts, okay? If the MCs start talking too fast, just look at me and I’ll do a TikTok dance or something. They love that.”

Kira managed a small, tight smile. It was humbling—being comforted by the girl she usually had to remind to put her shoes away. “I just don't want to look like I'm not trying, Bora.”

“You try too hard, that’s your problem,” Bora laughed, hopping into the van. “Today, just be the pretty one, You’re good at that.” she finished with a playful wink. 

***

Kira stood in the center, her hands clasped behind her back, her chin tilted at that perfect, regal angle. To the cameras, she looked untouchable. Inside, she was drowning in the rapid-fire Korean of the two MCs.

“LUCKY SINS! We’ve seen the luxury of the music video, but what about the dorm?” the MC asked, leaning forward with a devious grin. “Seven girls. One house. Who is the one making everyone’s life difficult?”

Kira caught the word “dorm”. She had a polite, boring sentence ready about "learning to live together," but Bora was already leaning into her mic, her eyes sparkling.

"It’s a time-zone issue, MC-nim," Bora said, her Korean fast and animated. "I’m a morning person—I like to get up, do my skin routine, and enjoy the morning light. But Yumeko-unnie? She’s a creature of the night. I’ll be trying to sleep at 2:00 AM and all I hear from the other side of the room is the bridge to Cruel Summer playing on a loop for the tenth time. She says she’s 'studying English lyrics,' but I think she just wants to see me suffer."

The studio erupted in laughter. Kira forced a small, sharp nod, though she only understood about forty percent of what Bora had just said. She caught "Yumeko," "English," and the name of the song. She felt a drop of sweat slide down her back.

“And the Leader?” the MC turned to Kira, his pen hovering over his whiteboard. “Kira-ssi, I heard you’re the only one with your own room. Is that a Leader’s privilege? Or are the members banned from entering the King’s chambers?”

Kira felt the familiar "buffer" kick in—that agonizing second of silence where she looked like she was malfunctioning. She caught Kira-ssi and Bang (Room), but the rest was a mess of syllables.

“She’d never ban us,” Yumeko interrupted smoothly.

She didn’t wait for a translation; she just snagged the mic with a sharp, knowing smile, her Korean fluid and impossibly charming. “It’s just what she deserves.”

Yumeko tilted her head toward Kira, her expression a mix of pride and public adoration. “Our Leader works harder than all of us combined. If anyone earned a door they can actually close, it’s her. But also, Kira-unnie is the only one in the dorm who actually knows where her things are. We leave her alone because we’re not brave enough to mess with her organization.”

The audience let out a collective "Aww," and the MC began teasing Kira about being the "Perfectionist Queen."

Kira’s jaw tightened, the enamel of her teeth grinding together.

She hated it. 

She hated the feeling of somebody else answering for her. She knew, rationally, that it was necessary—that Yumeko was saving the segment—but it still made her feel irrationally angry. 

It was a sudden, sharp slide back into her childhood. She could almost feel the phantom weight of her father’s hand on her shoulder, parading her through different rooms at parties, talking over her like she was incapable of speaking for herself. She simply wasn’t allowed. 

Get out of your head, she commanded herself. 

She could feel the heat of the studio lights and the predatory lens of Camera 3 zooming in. She couldn't afford to look weak, and she certainly couldn't look haunted.

She forced a stiff, robotic nod and a thin smile, her eyes remaining cold. 

Across the semi-circle, Riri shifted her weight. She wasn’t laughing with the others. Riri’s gaze was fixed on the white-knuckle grip Kira had on her own hands.

Riri knew that look. 

She had seen it in the back of black cars and under the chandeliers of gala halls long before they were idols. 

They shared a specific kind of history—a history written by a father who viewed silence as a virtue and his daughters as extensions of his own ego. Riri was the only one who knew that Kira wasn't being "stoic"; she was being triggered.

Riri caught Kira’s eye for a split second, a small, grounding tilt of her head. It was a silent message: You’re still here. I’m still here. Kira took a sharp, shallow breath, using Riri’s gaze like an anchor to pull herself back from the memory. She adjusted her posture, lengthening her spine until the phantom weight of her father’s hand evaporated under the hot studio lights. 

She wasn’t a child anymore.

Her father didn't control her and the girls were just doing their job. 

“Okay, okay! Moving on from the dorm of terror!” the MC shouted, clapping his hands together to reset the energy. “Let’s get to the segment that’s going to break the internet. It’s time for the LUCKY SINS to confess their Ideal Type!”

The graphics on the screen behind them flashed to a bright pink, and the studio audience erupted. Kira felt the familiar dread return. She didn't need a translator to know what the giant hearts on the screen meant.

"Naturally, we have to start with our Queen of Hearts!" the MC shouted, stepping toward Yumeko. "Yumeko-ssi, you're becoming the nation's obsession. We’ve already seen the forums—they’re calling you the 'Heir to the Visual Throne.' People are obsessed with that face; you look like you walked straight out of a magazine. So, tell us—what kind of person could actually capture the heart of someone like you? Give us specifics!"

The audience cheered, leaning in. Yumeko didn't miss a beat. She tilted her head, a slow, deliberate movement that caught the studio lights perfectly, highlighting the sharp, elegant lines of her features. She didn't look at the MC; she looked at the red light of the camera.

She began to speak in a low, earnest Korean. It wasn't the bubbly "variety" voice she used for the fans; it was the quiet, grounded tone she’d used in Kira’s room at 2:00 AM.

Kira watched her lips. She caught nothing. 

The syllables were fluid and emotive, and as Yumeko spoke, the energy in the room shifted. It wasn't funny anymore. The MCs went from laughing to making quiet, impressed "Ooh" sounds, nodding as if they were hearing a script from a high-budget drama.

Kira looked at Sayaka.

Sayaka had gone completely rigid. Her hands were gripped in front of her, the skin across her knuckles pulled tight and bloodless. She wasn't looking at Yumeko, or the MC, or even the cameras. Her eyes were fixed on Kira with a heavy, unreadable stillness.

Jennifer, on the other side, let out a short, dry puff of air through her nose. She didn't wait for the MC to finish.

“Well?” Jennifer’s voice cut through the atmospheric silence, her English sharp and intentionally loud. She nudged Sayaka with her elbow, flashing a brilliant, performative smile at the cameras. “We’re dying over here. What’s the secret? Did she say she likes guys with nice hands? Because that’s usually her thing, right?”

The MCs laughed, the tension breaking just enough for the show to continue. “Ah! The International Line is curious! Yumeko-ssi is quite the romantic!” 

The host turned his predatory grin toward Jennifer. “Since Jennifer-ssi is so curious, let’s hear hers! What does the California girl look for?”

“Oh, easy,” Jennifer said, leaning into her mic with that effortless charisma only she could master. “I just want someone who can cook for me.” 

The rest of the show passed in a blur of neon colors and forced laughter. Kira moved when she was told to move. She performed the "random play dance" with mechanical precision, her body taking over while her mind retreated to a safe, quiet corner.

Every time the MCs made a joke or the audience cheered, the sound reached her muffled and distorted. She watched Yumeko take the lead, navigating the games with her effortless charm, and Bora bouncing with a Maknae's endless energy. They were a machine that functioned perfectly without her input.

Kira’s eyes would occasionally drift to Yumeko, who looked entirely too comfortable. Then to Sayaka, who looked like she was counting the seconds until she could disappear.

***

LUCKY SINS Dorm – 2:13 AM

The dorm was finally silent. The frantic energy of the debut week had settled into a heavy, exhausted stillness.

Kira sat on the edge of her bed, the only light in the room coming from the moon filtering through the window and the harsh blue glow of her phone. 

She had managed to get through the van ride and the late-night snack with the girls without asking the question. 

Her pride wouldn't let her. 

She wouldn't give Yumeko the satisfaction of knowing she was bothered.

The blue light of the phone screen was a cold, surgical blade cutting through the darkness of Kira’s room. 

She found the thread she’d been dreading.

[TRANS] Weekly Idol: The "Visual Queen" and her Secret Type.

Kira scrolled, her eyes scanning past the "Visual Queen" fluff. She felt a weary, reflexive eye-roll at the MC’s comment about senior idols falling for Yumeko's beauty. 

Of course they are, Kira thought, her thumb flicking the screen upward with a snap. 

Get to the point.

Then, she found it.

Yumeko: "I’ve never really been into people who are like me. I find my own energy a bit... much. (Laughs). I think my type is actually my complete opposite. I like someone who looks completely badass—someone who walks into a room and everyone just... stops. Someone who looks like they could handle anything without breaking a sweat." 

Kira’s brow furrowed. She shifted, leaning her back against the headboard with a natural, effortless grace.

If Yumeko was being this specific, she had to have someone in mind. Kira thought of the senior idols they’d met, or the tall, composed trainees they’d seen at the company.

She scrolled further.

Yumeko: "But the most important part is what's underneath. I like someone deep... that contrast between looking like a bad guy but having a soul that's actually... complicated." 

Kira let out a dry, quiet huff. 

Deep?

She’d seen enough of the industry to know that no boy Yumeko’s age was "deep" or "complicated." 

They were predictable. They wanted the same things, and their motivations were as transparent as a glass of water.

She’d seen how people looked at Yumeko and she knew the girl was a hopeless romantic, but surely she hadn't fallen for some trainee's cheap, "misunderstood" act? but then again the girl was younger than her so maybe she has. 

Then, she hit the fan comments.

@7sins7: “HELLO?? not yumeko just describing kira. SHE’S LITERALLY TALKING ABOUT HER UNNIE”

@K-Ace99: “The contrast between the cool badass look and a complicated soul... that’s literally Kira’s brand.”

@yumekirawarrior: “did you guys see sayaka’s face??! 

Kira stared at the screen, her thumb frozen.

Me?

The thought was so absurd it almost made her laugh. She looked back at the description. 

Badass? She wasn't a "badass." 

She was a logistical machine held together by sheer willpower and expensive espresso. She wasn't "deep"; she was just boring because she didn't have time to be anything else.

"Delusional," she whispered to the dark room, shaking her head.

Kira was prepared for this moment.

She knew how the industry worked; she knew why it was so important for the girls to get along and have good chemistry. 

It’s because that sells. 

Shipping has become a part of every group—they even got training for that. 

They teach them how to play along with the fans without actually giving them anything real, of course. Two girls “playing” at being in love was completely fine and even encouraged in a girl group, but you could never mention the fact of one of them actually being into girls. 

That’s just not something they can do.

Kira knew she wasn’t into guys at a very young age. 

Mostly because any time one of them tried to get close to her, her body had a visceral reaction to it. She once screamed when a guy tried to hug her from behind.

But at the same time, Kira had never had much time to actually date either, so her experience with girls was mostly physical. 

She’d had crushes and hooked up with a few when she was a teenager, but nothing more serious than that. 

Nobody actually knew this about her, and she didn't think it was necessary since it wasn't something she really cared about.

She loved doing music. She loved performing, being on stage. That’s what she lived for; the rest didn't matter.

Chapter Text

The morning light in the company headquarters was unforgiving, reflecting off the glass table. The girls sat in their usual formation, but the air was heavy. 

Kira felt the lack of sleep in the back of her eyes, though her posture remained perfect.

Manager Park tapped a tablet, casting a series of viral clips onto the wall-mounted screen. 

“First of all, congratulations,” Manager Park said, his voice brisk and satisfied. “The episode hasn’t even aired in full, but the leaked clips and the ‘Ideal Type’ teaser are already at five million views. Your individual brand rankings are climbing, especially Yumeko and Kira.”

Kira kept her face a mask of professional neutrality. She didn’t look at Yumeko, who was leaning back with a casual grin.

“The chemistry is working,” Park continued, pacing the length of the table. “Yumeko’s and Kira’s dynamic is a massive hit. The fans love the Ice King and her Queen vibe. It’s a strong start. But,” he stopped, his expression sharpening, “we need to be careful. If we lean too hard into one duo, the group starts to feel unbalanced. We can’t have the fans thinking some of you are closer than others. It creates solo stans and internal fandom wars we don’t want yet.”

Kira nodded once. Logic. Strategy. This was the language she understood.

“For the next schedule—the ‘Behind the Scenes’ vlog and the photoshoot for the digital single—we’re rotating,” Park announced. “We need to sell the other ships. We need to show everyone is close with each other. Since Sayaka is sick today for the duo shots, we’re pairing Kira with Jennifer, Yumeko with Riri and Mary with Bora. 

Jennifer let out a playful hum, nudging Kira with her shoulder. “Looks like you’re stuck with me today, Boss.”

“Understood,” Kira said, her voice steady. She felt a strange, sudden sense of relief. 

It was just a tactic. The managers saw it, Yumeko saw it, and now we’re moving on to the next one.

“Riri-ssi, Yumeko-ssi,” Park turned to them, gesturing to the other end of the table. “You two have that ‘opposites attract’ energy. Use that. Yumeko, I want you showing Riri how to be more relaxed when the camera is on.”

Riri gave a small, polite nod, her expression as unreadable as a closed book. Yumeko, however, didn't look at the manager. She was looking at Jennifer’s shoulder pressed against Kira’s.

“I can do that,” Yumeko said. Her voice was light, but there was a sharp edge to her smile that Kira didn't recognize. 

“Good. The van leaves in ten minutes,” Park said, closing his tablet. “Jennifer, Kira—you’re in the first vehicle. Let’s move.”

As they stood up, the chair scraped loudly against the floor. Kira reached for her bag, her movements efficient and sharp. She felt Jennifer’s hand slide naturally onto her arm, guiding her toward the door. 

*** 

Behind the Scenes: "LUCKY SINS – Digital Single Jacket Film"

The camera panned across the drafty, industrial warehouse set, catching Mary and Bora in the middle of a playful argument over a prop basketball. 

"Wait, wait!" Bora laughed, ducking under Mary’s arm. She was wearing a shredded varsity jacket that made her look even smaller than usual. "The Director said I’m the 'Ace,' Mary-unnie! You’re supposed to be the rival team's bench warmer!"

Mary rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hide the soft, indulgent smile that usually surfaced when Bora was involved. She grabbed the ball back with one hand, spinning it expertly. "In your dreams, little one.” 

Mary feigned a shot at an invisible hoop, both of them breaking into easy, unscripted laughter. It was the "Team Spirit" content the fans lived for—low stakes, genuine, and light.

The camera then cut to the first of the designated "unit" interviews.

Unit 1: The Global Line (Kira & Jennifer)

Kira and Jennifer stood against a concrete pillar, their styling sharp and aggressive. Kira wore a dark, structured blazer over a pleated skirt—the "Elite Academy" look—while Jennifer leaned next to her in a leather-trimmed uniform that screamed "Rebel."

"So, the concept today is crossed lines," Jennifer explained to the camera, her English smooth and effortless. She looked at Kira, a playful glint in her eyes. "We’re from two rival schools that have been at war for decades. Kira is the 'Perfect Student Council President' who follows every rule..."

"And Jennifer is the one who breaks them all," Kira added, her voice steady and professional. She looked directly into the lens, her posture perfect. "At first, our characters can't even stand to be in the same room. We see each other as enemies. But as the story of the photoshoot progresses, they realize they’re both under the same pressure to succeed. They learn they're more similar than they thought."

"It's a lot like us, actually," Jennifer teased, nudging Kira’s shoulder. "Kira is always so focused on being the perfect Leader, and I’m just here to remind her that it’s okay to have a little fun."

Kira gave a small, polite nod to the camera. 

Unit 2: The Visual Line (Yumeko & Riri)

The camera shifted to the other side of the warehouse, where the lighting was softer, moodier. Yumeko and Riri were sitting back-to-back on a rusted bench. Yumeko was draped in an oversized, expensive-looking cardigan, while Riri looked cold and untouchable in a sharp, dark knit.

"Our concept is a bit more... atmospheric," Yumeko said, her voice dropping into that sweet, magnetic register. She reached back, her fingers lightly trailing over the shoulder of Riri’s sweater. "We’re the 'Silent Rivals.' Riri-unnie is the top student who doesn't let anyone in, and I’m the one who finally cracks her shell."

"It’s about the tension of being forced together," Riri said quietly. "Realizing that the person you thought was your biggest threat is actually the only one who understands you."

"Exactly," Yumeko chirped, leaning her head back so it rested against Riri’s. 

***

The production team set up a simple white stool in a quieter corner of the warehouse. The industrial lighting from the shoot still caught the sharp angles of their "rival school" uniforms, but the vibe was supposed to be more intimate. One by one, the girls sat down for their solo "Q&A" clips.

Bora & Mary

Bora: "My favorite song right now? Definitely ‘RUDE!’ by Hearts2Hearts! I’m a huge SM fan. But Mary-unnie hates it whenever I try to learn a new choreo in the dorm."

Mary: (Off-camera, sounding tired) "I don't hate it, Bora. I'm just trying to sleep."

Bora: (Laughing) "Dream collab? Probably a high-energy dance track with Red Velvet’s Seulgi-sunbaenim. And for a cover... honestly, anything by Red Velvet. I’m ready."

Mary: (Voice trailing in again) "She’s the biggest Red Velvet stan out there. I know even their blood types now because she never stops talking about them."

Bora: (Shrugging with a grin) "What can I say? They’re the reason I wanted to be an idol in the first place."

Jennifer 

Jennifer: "Current favorite? I’ve been listening to a lot of SZA lately. It keeps me grounded. Dream collaboration would have to be Jennie, of course! Or Kali Uchis. That would be the vibe."

She leaned toward the camera, flashing a playful, high-energy wink.

Jennifer: "And for a cover? I’ve actually been trying to convince Kira to do a cover of 'Kiss Me More’ with me. She keeps saying she’s too busy with “Leader duties”, but I think she’s just scared I’ll out-sing her. Guys, keep tagging her until she says yes, okay? We need to make this happen."

Yumeko

Yumeko: "Favorite song? Anything Taylor Swift, to be honest. But right now, I’m having a big Evermore moment. Maybe ‘Ivy’? Or ‘Dorothea’? It changes every hour."

She paused, tilting her head as she played with a loose thread on her oversized cardigan, looking thoughtful.

Yumeko: "A song I want to cover... I’d love to cover ‘Vanilla’ by Taeyeon-sunbaenim. I love that song so much. Her voice when she sings in Japanese is just... so pretty. I actually have a whole playlist dedicated just to her Japanese discography."

Yumeko beamed at the camera, her smile radiant and effortless.

A few feet away, Sayaka was watching from the sidelines. Her gaze drifted toward Kira, who was tucked in a corner, distracted by her phone. Even from this distance, Sayaka could catch the faint, lingering trail of Kira’s signature vanilla scent.

She wondered if Yumeko even realized what she was doing—if she was consciously picking songs that matched the person she couldn't stop looking at, or if her brain just naturally associated everything beautiful with Kira. She also knew that song and the lyrics were… something. 

Yumeko: "Oh! And I’d also love to do a dance cover of 'Monster' by Red Velvet - IRENE & SEULGI. I’m obsessed with that choreo. You need two people who really get each other for that one—it’s all about the tension, and they performed it so perfectly."

Kira

Kira sat on the stool, her blazer perfectly straight, her hands resting neatly on her knees. She looked every bit the 'Perfect Student Council President' her outfit suggested, but there was a flicker of genuine warmth in her eyes as she spoke about the one thing that truly bypassed her internal filters: music.

Kira: "Favorite song? That’s so hard. I love music—I have a whole playlist dedicated to my favorite songs of all time. But if I had to choose just one right now... maybe ‘The First Taste’ by Fiona Apple. And my dream collaboration... I’d love to work with Hayley Williams."

The staff member behind the camera prompted her: "What about a cover song, Kira-ssi?"

Kira: "A cover?" She paused, her gaze drifting toward the equipment racks where the other girls were waiting. Without thinking, the words slipped out with a natural, uncharacteristic ease. "Actually, Yumeko has been getting me into her music lately, so I’ve been listening to a lot of Taylor Swift. Maybe... ‘Guilty as Sin?’ I love that song.”

The set went momentarily quiet.

Behind the monitor, Yumeko’s hand, which had been reaching for a water bottle, froze. Her head snapped toward the stool, her eyes widening. A faint, dusty pink crept up her neck, clashing with her cool makeup. She looked completely caught off guard—flustered in a way that wasn't for the cameras.

Kira realized it the second the words left her mouth. Her posture stiffened even further. She hadn't meant to share that. She hadn't meant to admit that she spent her private time letting Yumeko curate her ears. It made her feel... exposed. Accessible.

"I mean the songwriting is technically impressive," Kira added quickly, her voice regaining its "Leader" edge. "It’s a good study for our own compositions."

Jennifer, who had been leaning against a C-stand watching the whole thing, didn't miss a beat. She saw Yumeko’s visible glitch and Kira’s sudden retreat, and she decided to lean in.

“Taylor? Really, Kir?” Jennifer’s voice cut through the tension, smooth and teasing as she stepped into the frame, with the excuse to 'check' Kira's hair for the next shot. She leaned down, her face inches from Kira’s, her hand lingering a bit too long on Kira's shoulder.

“I thought you only liked those deep, complex indie tracks,” Jennifer whispered loud enough for the mics to catch, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I didn't know you were such a romantic at heart. If I’d known all it took was a catchy chorus to get under your skin, I would’ve started serenading you in the van weeks ago.”

Jennifer laughed, a low, flirty sound, and tucked a stray hair behind Kira’s ear. “Don't worry, guys—I’ll make sure she stays focused on our 'Kiss Me More' cover.”

Across the warehouse, the "sweet" expression Yumeko had been wearing a minute ago vanished. She didn't look flustered anymore; she looked dangerous. She watched Jennifer’s hand on Kira’s shoulder with a sharp, territorial focus that could have pierced through the industrial concrete.

Yumeko had been "professional" all day, playing her part with Riri perfectly, but seeing Jennifer ruin her "moment" with Kira—a moment Kira had initiated herself—was the breaking point.

Kira looked at Jennifer, then at Yumeko, and felt that familiar, nagging sense of disorganization. 

"We're done with the interview," Kira said, standing up so abruptly that the stool wobbled. "Let's move to the group shots. We're behind schedule."

She walked away, her "Ice King" mask firmly back in place, leaving Jennifer smirking and Yumeko simmering in a silence that was anything but "professional”. 

***

LUCKY SINS Dorm – 11:45 PM

The dorm was filled with the low, exhausted hum of a successful day. The living room was a mess of discarded puffer jackets and half-empty water bottles. Jennifer was sprawled across the sofa, her legs draped over the armrest, while Sayaka sat cross-legged on the floor, methodically going through her skincare routine as she scrolled through her phone.

Kira sat in the armchair, her posture still surprisingly straight for someone who had been on a roof in the wind for six hours. She was staring at her screen, but she wasn't actually reading the schedule for tomorrow.

Her eyes kept drifting to the kitchen island.

Yumeko and Riri were standing there, leaning over a shared bowl of fruit. And Riri—the sister Kira had known for nineteen years, the girl who usually communicated in monosyllables and sharp glares—was laughing. It wasn't a scripted laugh for the cameras; it was a soft, genuine sound that Kira hadn't heard in months.

Yumeko said something low, poking Riri’s arm with a grape, and Riri actually smiled back, her shoulders relaxed in a way they never were when Kira was in the room.

Kira felt a sharp, icy knot tighten in her stomach. It was a physical sensation, cold and intrusive. 

She’s ignoring me, Kira thought, her thumb frozen on her phone screen.

All day, Yumeko had been the perfect "professional" with Riri. Kira had convinced herself it was just a marketing tactic, a job to be done. But here, in the dark of the dorm, the cameras were off. There was no one to "sell" to.

“I like someone who looks completely badass... someone who looks like a warrior but has a soul that's actually... complicated.”

Yumeko’s words from the interview echoed in Kira’s head like a taunt. Her gaze moved between them. Riri was, she supposes… a “badass”. She was the best dancer in the group, she was serious, and she was undeniably complicated.

Was it her? The thought flashed through Kira’s mind, and she felt a sudden, irrational spike of jealousy so intense it made her dizzy. 

Was Riri the one she was talking about the whole time?

She buried the thought immediately, her internal "logic" slamming the door shut.

Don't be ridiculous, she told herself, her jaw tightening. Yumeko is straight.

Kira remembered the traineeship days—the way Yumeko had talked about actors she liked, the way she giggled over male idols on music shows. Yumeko had never shown even a flicker of interest in girls. This was just... Yumeko being Yumeko. She was magnetic; she made everyone feel special. She was probably just being a good member to Riri to make the chemistry more authentic like she was instructed to do.

As the Leader she should be proud, but in the back of her mind she knew that wasn’t what she was feeling right now in the slightest. 

"You're staring," Jennifer murmured, not even looking up from her Instagram feed. "If you glare at that fruit bowl any harder, the grapes are going to spontaneously combust."

Kira snapped her eyes back to her phone, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I'm just thinking about the choreography for the digital single. Riri's lines are... different than I expected."

"Mm-hmm," Jennifer hummed, a lazy, knowing smirk playing on her lips. She finally looked up, her eyes darting toward the kitchen and then back to Kira’s rigid profile. "The lines are definitely interesting today. Maybe you should go over there and 'supervise' them, Boss. You look like you're about to have a logistical crisis."

"I'm fine," Kira said, her voice a flat, dangerous line.

***

LUCKY SINS Dorm – 3:25 AM

The dorm was silent, but Kira’s mind was a chaotic playback of the day’s highlight reel.

“Actually, Yumeko has been getting me into her music lately...”

She stared at the ceiling, her heart doing a slow, heavy thud. Why had she said it? It was a tactical error. It was an admission of proximity when she was supposed to be doing the exact opposite. 

Restless, Kira pushed back the duvet. Her throat felt dry, a physical manifestation of the tension she’d been carrying since the interview. She slipped out of her room, moving like a ghost through the dark hallway toward the kitchen.

She grabbed a glass of water, but the walls of the dorm felt too close. She stepped out onto the small balcony, the cool night air of Seoul hitting her face like a reset button. She leaned against the railing, staring at the blurred lights of the city, trying to force her brain back into some normalcy.

"You’re up late."

Kira didn't jump—she was too disciplined for that—but her grip tightened on the glass. Yumeko was standing in the doorway, draped in a silk robe, her hair messy in a way that felt dangerously intimate. 

She stepped out onto the balcony, the scent of her skincare hitting Kira before she even reached the railing.

"Couldn't sleep," Kira said, her voice a flat, practiced line.

"Me neither," Yumeko murmured. She leaned in next to Kira, their shoulders nearly touching. She didn't look at the city; she looked at Kira’s profile. "I didn’t know you liked ‘Guilty as Sin’ so much. It’s one of my favorites from that album actually.” 

Kira felt a microscopic heat rise to her cheeks. "I told the staff. The songwriting is technically impressive. The bridge—"

"I cried the first time I heard it," Yumeko interrupted, her voice soft and startlingly honest. She looked at Kira then, her eyes wide and searching. "The way she talks about being trapped in her own head... about a longing that feels like a crime. I didn't think it was your vibe."

Kira finally turned her head, her gaze meeting Yumeko’s for a fraction of a second before she looked back at the city. She felt a pull in her chest, a sudden, inconvenient urge to be honest.

"I like the first part," Kira admitted, her voice low. "Where she mentions 'The Downtown Lights.' It’s one of my favorites of all time. I love how the song manages to capture that very specific feeling of being lonely in a city that’s too bright."

She let out a short, dry huff of air—a small attempt at a joke to kill the growing weight in the air. "Honestly, though? If someone ever sent me a song like that, I can assure you I wouldn’t be as cool as your girl Taylor. I wouldn't write a hit album about it. I’d probably just jump from the nearest high place."

Yumeko let out a startled, genuine laugh. It was a bright sound that cut through the heavy midnight air, but it died out almost as quickly as it started. Her expression shifted, her brows knitting together as the image of someone sending Kira a love song—someone else—took root in her mind.

The jealousy was instantaneous, sharp and jagged.

"Don't say that," Yumeko said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, serious register. She shifted, turning her whole body toward Kira, forcing the space between them to vanish. "I don't like the idea of anyone sending you songs like that."

Kira’s heart gave a sudden, traitorous leap. "Yumeko—"

"I missed you today," Yumeko snapped, the intensity sudden and raw. Her gaze didn't waver, pinning Kira to the spot. "You were all over Jennifer. Every time I looked over, she was touching you, or whispering in your ear... and you were laughing. You were actually laughing with her. You weren't with me."

The air on the balcony suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. The awkwardness was a physical weight, thick and suffocating. Kira looked into Yumeko’s eyes and saw it—that bright, territorial fire she’d caught glimpses of at the warehouse.

"It was just a schedule," Kira finally whispered.

"I know it was a schedule," Yumeko said, her voice trembling with a frustration she wasn't bothering to hide. She moved a step closer, her hand hovering near Kira's on the railing, the desire to just be there, to reclaim the space Jennifer had occupied all day, radiating off her in waves. "That doesn't mean I liked it."

Kira realized she was holding her breath, her lungs burning. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant, muffled hum of the city. Kira’s "logic" was screaming at her to bring up the rotation strategy, but she was trapped in the gravity of Yumeko’s stare.

"Tomorrow," Kira said, her voice raspy. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to break eye contact. "We have a late start. We can... we can watch a movie. Like old times. Just you and me. Okay?”

The tension didn't disappear, but it shifted, softening into something quiet and expectant.

Yumeko let out a long, shaky exhale. She didn't move away, but the sharp edge in her shoulders relaxed. "Just us?" she repeated, her voice returning to that soft, melodic hum.

"Just us.” Kira answered firmly.

Chapter Text

LUCKY SINS Dorm – 11:30 PM

The dorm was unnervingly quiet. Jennifer and Sayaka had stayed late at the studio to work on a new choreography, Riri was in her room playing video games and Bora and Mary were out grabbing a late-night snack. The absence of the others left the air thin, every creak of the floorboards amplified in the stillness.

And of course Yumeko took the opportunity to collect what was promised to her the night before. 

Kira had picked Lost in Translation. 

She’d seen it before, but the hazy, neon-soaked longing of Tokyo felt like the only thing that matched the static in her own head. She sat on the far end of the grey sofa, her legs tucked under her, a oversized mug of tea cooling on the coffee table.

She was hyper-aware of the space next to her.

"You're so far away," Yumeko murmured.

She didn't wait for an invitation. Yumeko drifted across the cushions, moving into Kira’s space with the effortless gravity she always seemed to possess. She didn't just sit near her; she folded herself against Kira’s side, her head dropping naturally into the hollow of Kira’s shoulder. She smelled like the rose-scented toner she’d used after her shower, a soft, floral scent that made Kira’s lungs feel suddenly crowded.

Kira’s breath hitched, a tiny, jagged sound she hoped the movie’s soundtrack drowned out. Her heart began to thrash against her ribs, a frantic, messy rhythm that felt entirely out of her control.

"I'm just... trying to see the movie," Kira managed, her voice tight.

"You’ve seen it like three times already, Kira," Yumeko countered softly. She reached out, her fingers curling into the soft cotton of Kira’s grey hoodie, pulling herself even closer. She was being her usual, touchy self—the girl who needed to be tethered to something steady—but to Kira, every point of contact felt like a live wire.

Kira’s arm, draped over the back of the sofa, stayed frozen. She sat there like a statue, her eyes fixed on Bill Murray’s face on the screen while her entire nervous system was focused on the weight of Yumeko’s head against her collarbone.

Why is this hard all of the sudden? Kira thought, her jaw locking.

It's never been hard before. We’ve shared beds in hotels. We’ve fallen asleep on each other in the van a hundred times.

But it wasn't the same. In the van, there was the hum of the engine and the presence of the others to hide the intimacy.

Here, in the dim light of the living room, there was no safety net. There was only the heat of Yumeko’s body and the memory of her saying 'I missed you' on the balcony with those expressive eyes.

Yumeko shifted, her forehead rubbing against the fabric of Kira’s sleeve. She felt the muscle in Kira’s arm hard and knotted. 

"Are you okay?" Yumeko whispered, pulling back just enough to look up. In the flickering blue light of the television, her eyes looked dark and vulnerable. "You’re... you’re really stiff. Do you want me to move? Am I bothering you?"

The question felt like a physical sting. The truth is, she wasn’t sure exactly what she was currently feeling but one thing was clear, Yumeko could never actually bother her. 

"No," Kira said, a little too quickly. She forced herself to look down, and the movie faded into the background. Yumeko’s face was inches from hers, her lips parted slightly, her expression hurt in a way that made Kira’s chest ache. "You're fine. I'm just... I'm tired from the shoot yesterday. My back is just a bit sore."

It was a classic deflection—physical, logical, safe.

"Oh," Yumeko said, though the word was heavy with doubt. She didn't pull away entirely, but the easy, affectionate warmth from moments ago had cooled into a cautious stillness. She stayed leaned against Kira, but her demeanor had changed. She just watched the movie, her hand still gripping Kira’s sleeve, but with a tension that mirrored Kira’s own.

Kira felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She wanted to reach out, to pull Yumeko back and tell her that the stiffness wasn't because she wanted her to leave—it was because she was terrified of what would happen if she let herself relax. If she let herself lean back.

But the words wouldn't come.

*** 

The next morning, the air in the van felt thick, like a radio frequency that hadn't been tuned quite right. Kira and Yumeko sat in their usual spots, but the silence between them wasn't the comfortable, practiced kind. It was a jagged thing, punctuated by the memory of the movie's blue light and the way the credits had rolled while they both sat too still, too aware of the inches of fabric separating them.

By the time they reached the studio for their afternoon variety segment, the "professional" masks were back on, but the internal calibration was off.

The MC was high-energy as usual. "Alright, LUCKY SINS! We know you’re the 'Performance Queens,' but we want to see how the Leader handles a little pressure. Kira-ssi, to the center! We’re going to drop random tracks, and you have to give us the vibe immediately. No thinking, just moving!"

Kira stepped into the circle, her face a mask of calm determination. She adjusted her cropped blazer, her movements sharp and efficient.

The first track hit—a heavy, bass-boosted hip-hop beat.

Kira didn't hesitate. Her movements fluid and grounded.

It wasn't just "good" dancing; it was authoritative in a way only Kira could express. 

She possessed the space, her eyes narrowing as she hit every beat with a precision that made the staff behind the cameras murmur in approval.

"Whoa! Look at her go!" the MC shouted, leading the rest of the girls in a chorus of cheers. Jennifer was whistling, and Bora was jumping up and down, shouting, "Unnie!"

But on the sidelines, Yumeko had stopped cheering.

She was leaning against the decorative set wall, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She couldn't take her eyes off Kira. She’d seen Kira dance a thousand times in the practice room—sweaty, tired, counting out beats—but this was different.

The music shifted to a slower, more sultry R&B track.

Kira’s energy transformed instantly. Her shoulders rolled, her hips following a slow, hypnotic curve that seemed to pull the air right out of Yumeko’s lungs. 

She was beautiful, Yumeko knew that—it was an objective fact she’d lived with for years—but this felt like a physical assault on her senses.

She knew Kira was objectively an attractive person of course… but when did she start thinking she was… sexy? 

And when did she get so... good at that? Yumeko thought, her throat going dry.

She felt a flush creeping up her neck, a heat that had nothing to do with the studio lights. She watched the way Kira’s hair whipped across her face, the way her eyes stayed focused and dark, oblivious to the chaos she was causing in Yumeko’s chest.

Yumeko felt flustered, her heart doing a frantic, messy dance of its own. 

"Yumeko-ssi! Look at your Leader!" the MC laughed, noticing her stunned expression. "She’s a different person when the music starts, right?"

Yumeko forced a small, shaky laugh, her cheeks burning. "She... she’s very focused," she managed to say, her voice sounding breathless even to her own ears.

She tried to look away, tried to focus on Jennifer’s teasing or the MC’s jokes, but her gaze kept snapping back to Kira. To the line of her back. To the way her body moved in that particular, devastating way.

*** 

Later that day, the girls were chatting in the kitchen, laughing as if Kira hadn’t grown five times hotter overnight for everyone except Yumeko.

She couldn’t take it.

Excusing herself to her room, Yumeko took the chance to be alone and process whatever the hell this day had been. 

She buried herself under her duvet—not out of shame, but because this was a high-stakes investigation. 

She knew she shouldn't be "fandom-diving," but her thumb was a traitor.

@SinTracker: "Not Yumeko getting caught in 4K forgetting how to breathe #Yumekira #LUCKYSINS"

Yumeko clicked the linked video. It was a high-definition edit, slowed down to a crawl with a grainy, romantic filter. The creator had zoomed on her face the moment Kira had dropped into that low, R&B-infused body roll.

In the clip, Yumeko saw herself—her eyes blown wide, her lips parted, a flush creeping up her neck that even the studio makeup couldn't hide. She watched her own reflection on the screen with a sense of clinical shock. 

Is that really how I look at her? she wondered, her heart doing a slow, heavy thud. 

But as she scrolled further, the fascination turned into a sharp, jagged heat.

@K-Ace99: "the way kira moves her hips... i’m actually deceased she’s the hottest woman alive!!!!!”

@RubyKira: "her gaze at 0:45? she knows exactly what she's doing to us…….. i’m literally barking at my screen right now” 

Yumeko’s grip on her phone tightened. A wave of possessive irritation washed over her. 

It wasn't just her seeing it.

Thousands of people were watching that same body roll, pausing the same frames, and feeling that same dizzying pull.

She belongs to the world now, Yumeko thought, a bitter taste in her mouth. 

She hated it. 

She wanted to reach into the screen and pull the "Ice King" back into their dorm, back to the balcony where only Yumeko could see the way the moonlight hit her.

And then, she found that clip.

The camera had caught a small moment behind the MC’s shoulder. Jennifer had leaned in close to Kira after the music stopped, her hand lingering on Kira’s arm.

"You're so hot," Jennifer’s voice was barely audible over the studio noise, but the fans had subtitled it in neon pink. "Are you trying to kill us all?"

Yumeko watched Kira’s reaction on a loop. Kira didn't pull away. She didn't get stiff or turn into a statue like she had during their movie night. Instead, Kira had let out a small, effortless smirk and nudged Jennifer back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Yumeko tossed her phone onto the mattress, the screen still glowing with a loop of Kira’s hips. The jealousy was a physical weight now, cold and heavy.

Why her? she thought, staring at the ceiling. Why did Jennifer get the smirks and the nudges?

She remembered the movie night—the way Kira had felt like a block of marble under her head. 

Maybe it was the age gap. 

Maybe Kira just saw her as the "little sister" of the group, someone to be managed and protected.

But she saw Jennifer as her peer. As her partner. As the one who was allowed to call her hot without the world ending.

And Jennifer had this… annoying allure about her. Her representative sin wasn’t Lust for nothing. It was like no matter what she said, it became suggestive the moment it left her mouth. 

Yumeko was beautiful and charismatic—she knew this, she used it—but she didn't have that same effortless sex appeal Jennifer carried like a second skin.

Yumeko sat up, her hair messy, her eyes bright with a restless energy. How come she had almost forgotten how to breathe over Kira’s dancing today, while Kira only saw her as one of the younger members who needed her protection?

She wanted Kira to see her with the same eyes Yumeko had used today. She wanted Kira to smirk and flirt easily with her, with that same unspoken attitude she shared with Jennifer—like they both knew something Yumeko didn’t.

Like they knew… Well, sex.

No matter how close the members were, there were things even they didn't share. 

Sex was one of them. 

Yumeko was no prude; she had no problem talking about it. 

She just didn’t know how to ask. 

How do you even ask your members, “Hey, have you guys had sex yet or what?” in a casual way?

She supposed the older girls had. They had this maturity about them that only comes from seeing someone naked below you. Or on top of you. 

Whatever.

Was the room hot all of a sudden? 

Would Kira have someone naked below or on top of her? Scientifically speaking. Out of curiosity only.

 She decided to ignore the thought and listen to music instead. Music was safe. Twitter, apparently, was not.

*** 

The next afternoon, the mood in the company’s conference room was professional. The girls sat around the sleek mahogany table, their managers and the creative director standing at the head with a tablet connected to the large monitor.

"The numbers from yesterday's broadcast are in," Manager Park started, a satisfied smirk on his face. He tapped the screen, showing the viral metrics for Kira's dance break. "The engagement is off the charts. The 'Yumekira' and 'Global Line' tags are trending."

Kira sat perfectly still, her hands folded on the table. She looked like she hadn't slept, but her 'Ice King' mask was as flawless as ever.

"The fans are practically begging for more unit content," the Creative Director added. "Specifically, the 'Monster' cover Yumeko mentioned and the 'Kiss Me More' duo Jennifer teased, they were brilliant suggestions. We’ve decided to greenlight both. We’ll be filming them for YouTube content next week."

Jennifer let out a low whistle, leaning back in her chair and shooting a wink at Kira.

Kira didn't smirk this time. She kept her eyes on the Director. "Understood."

Yumeko felt the blood drain from her face. Her stomach did a slow, nauseating somersault.

Brilliant? It was a disaster.

A few days ago, suggesting Monster had felt like a bold, artistic whim. 

Now, it felt like a death sentence. 

She wasn't a Main Dancer; she wasn’t even a Dancer at all. She was the weakest link in the formation. She was the one who had to spend triple the hours in the studio just to look half as fluid as Kira did without even trying.

She looked at Kira’s profile—the sharp jawline, the effortless poise. How was she supposed to mirror that? How was she supposed to maintain the "high tension" of that choreography when her lungs already felt tight just sitting next to her?

"But that's not all," Manager Park continued, oblivious to Yumeko’s internal crisis. "To keep the momentum going, we want individual content. Each of you needs to pick a solo cover—song or dance—that showcases your specific charm or a side of you the fans haven't seen yet. We need your choices by the end of the day."

Yumeko was positively losing her mind now. 

She was going to have to spend hours in a dark practice room, inches away from Kira, trying to match the movements of a girl who looked like she’d been born to dance.

She was going to look like a clumsy student next to a master. 

"By the end of the day, girls," the Director reminded them. "Think about what you want to say to the world."

As the meeting adjourned, the room filled with the sound of chairs scraping and the girls’ chatter. Jennifer was already humming a melody, and Bora was talking about high-energy girl group medleys.

Yumeko stayed seated, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. She looked at the empty space where Kira had just been sitting.

What was I thinking? she screamed internally. I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die in that practice room.

*** 

LUCKY SINS Dorm – 7:00 PM

The living room was a battlefield of discarded tablets, open laptops, and half-eaten snacks. The "End of the Day" deadline was looming like a shadow, and the air was thick with the sound of overlapping YouTube clips and Spotify intros.

"No, listen!" Bora scrambled onto the coffee table, nearly kicking over Mary’s tea. She shoved her phone toward everyone’s faces. "I have to do Red Velvet’s 'Peek-A-Boo.' The concept is perfect. It’s playful but a little dark, right? And the footwork? I’ve literally known it since I was twelve!"

Mary sighed, gently pushing Bora’s foot off the table. She looked exhausted, but her eyes were bright with a rare spark of competitiveness. "It’s cute, Bora-yah. But I think I’m going for something with a bit more... mature. I’m thinking Ciara’s 'Get Up’ right now. It’s a classic, it’s powerful, and I think it fits my style of dancing compared to Kira’s or Riri’s. 

Riri was sprawled on the floor, her back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling with her headphones around her neck. "I’m not dancing," she said simply, her voice cutting through the noise. "I’m doing a vocal cover. I’m just not sure what song yet"

"Me too," Sayaka added from the kitchen island, where she was peeling a tangerine. "I'm thinking of something in Korean, to practice my pronunciation."

In the middle of the whirlwind, Yumeko sat frozen. Her laptop was open to a 'Monster' dance practice video, but she hadn't pressed play in twenty minutes. She kept glancing toward the window nook.

Kira was sitting there, completely isolated. She had her massive noise-canceling headphones on, her knees pulled up to her chest. She was staring at her phone screen with a terrifying level of focus, her thumb occasionally tapping the rhythm against her ankle. She looked like a general preparing for war.

The rest of the girls were suggesting songs to each other, laughing and bickering, but no one dared to disturb Kira.

"What about you, Yumeko?" Jennifer asked, leaning over the back of the sofa, her eyes glinting with that annoying smirk. "You’ve been staring at that screen so long I think you’ve memorized the pixels."

Yumeko felt her stomach drop. "I’m... I’m just looking for a solo song," she lied, her voice a pitch higher than usual. "Something that fits."

"You should do something cute," Bora suggested, popping a grape into her mouth. "Like a Nayeon-sunbaenim vibe! It suits your face."

"No," Yumeko whispered, her eyes flickering back to Kira’s silent, powerful silhouette.

She didn't want 'cute.' If she did 'cute' while Kira was doing... whatever she was currently planning, the gap between them would only get wider. 

Suddenly, Kira pulled her headphones down around her neck. The silence that followed was instantaneous. Even Bora stopped chewing.

Kira looked at the group, her gaze landing on Yumeko for a split second longer than the others before shifting to her phone. "I’ve made my choice," she said, her voice low and final.

"Well? Don't leave us hanging, Cap!" Jennifer teased.

Kira stood up, grabbing her mug. "You'll see it on the schedule. I need to go to the company and start the arrangement."

As Kira walked past, the faint scent of vanilla drifted over Yumeko, making her dizzy. She watched Kira disappear into the hallway, her heart hammering.

Monster. She had to do Monster with that woman.

"She's definitely going to do something that breaks the internet," Mary murmured, looking back at her Ciara video. "We all better work twice as hard."

Yumeko looked down at her laptop. The video of Irene and Seulgi was still paused on a frame of them leaning into each other, their foreheads touching, the tension palpable.

I'm going to die, Yumeko thought again. But this time, a tiny, buried part of her—the part that had spent all night reading those Twitter threads—felt a spark of something that wasn't just terror.

***

The final list was glowing on the monitor, a digital testament to their individual identities. Manager Park was nodding, already tapping out a marketing plan on his tablet.

"The lineup is solid," he said, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "We’ll film the vocal covers in the studio first, then move to the performance stage for the dance units. Let's look at the schedule."

Mary leaned back, a small, satisfied smile on her face as she looked at 'Get Up.' She knew what she was doing. She wasn’t going to try and match Riri’s sharp isolations or Kira’s raw power; she was going for groove, and she was going to show something she knew only she could.

Across the table, Riri was silent, her eyes fixed on 'Heartbreak Anniversary.' She decided on that song because she liked it but also because it showed her voice quite nicely when it usually got buried under Kira’s soaring high notes. 

"Kira-unnie," Bora chirped, breaking the professional silence. "I knew you’d pick a dance cover! But 'Uncover'? That’s so... artistic. I thought for sure you’d want to show off your vocals after the interview yesterday."

Kira didn't look up from her coffee. Her grip on the mug tightened just a fraction. Her choice was safe. She studied that choreo during her trainee years but she never actually got a chance to dance to it. 

Dancing was a physical calculation. It was muscle memory. It wasn't the raw, lyrical vulnerability of Taylor Swift. It wasn't a balcony at 2:00 AM.

"I thought our Korean fans would enjoy this after being so quiet during our last interview.” Kira said simply. 

Yumeko stared at the screen, her heart doing a nervous flutter. She had picked 'Vanilla' because she loved Taeyeon-sunbaenim, yes, but also because she wanted to prove she had the vocal maturity to carry a song like that. She wanted to be seen as a singer, a woman with depth. Not just the pretty face of the group. 

"And the units," Manager Park continued, standing up. "Jennifer and Kira, you’ll start 'Kiss Me More' rehearsals tomorrow. Yumeko and Kira... you’re in the Main Studio at 2:00 PM for 'Monster.' Don't be late. The choreographer is expecting a high level of synchronicity."

As they stood to leave, Jennifer leaned over the table, her eyes glinting with a dangerous, playful heat. "Nice choice, Sayaka-chan," she whispered, nodding toward 'In My Dreams.' by Red Velvet. "Very... dreamy."

Sayaka didn't answer. She just tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was a song Kira wouldn't understand—a secret hidden in plain sight, protected by a language barrier.

Chapter Text

The Recording Studio – 11:00 AM

The studio was dim, the only light coming from the glowing monitors of the soundboard and the soft lamp inside the vocal booth. Kira sat in the high-backed producer’s chair, her arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the glass partition.

On the other side, Yumeko stood with her eyes closed, the oversized studio headphones making her look smaller, more fragile.

"...Oh, I want you to call my name, thinking about you everyday..."

Yumeko’s voice was airy—a delicate silk thread winding through the quiet room. Kira’s thumb traced the seam of her jeans, matching the tempo. She was checking the pitch, the breath support, the pronunciation. But as the song hit the chorus, the professional part of her brain started to glitch.

Yumeko looked... ethereal.

The way she tilted her head back to catch a high note, the way her hand reached out as if she were trying to touch the lyrics—it was distracting. 

Kira found herself focusing less on the waveform on the screen and more on the way the studio light caught the curve of Yumeko’s throat.

The track faded out. 

Yumeko opened her eyes, looking toward the glass with a hopeful, slightly breathless expression. Kira cleared her throat, leaning forward to press the talkback button. Her voice was steady and professional.

"The tone is good, Yumeko. Your head voice is stable," Kira said, her eyes dropping to the lyrics sheet to avoid that wide-eyed gaze. "But you’re being too careful."

Yumeko bit her lip through the glass. "I’m trying to keep it clean, Kira-ssa. Like the original."

"The original is Taeyeon," Kira replied, her voice softening just a fraction. “You don’t have to sound like her, but you do need to imitate her passion. You have to make me understand the lyrics even if I don’t speak the language."

Kira watched as Yumeko took a deep breath, nodding seriously. Yumeko adjusted the mic, her fingers brushing against the pop filter.

"Like this?" Yumeko asked. She sang a line acapella, leaning closer to the glass.

The sound was raw. 

It was the first time Kira was hearing Yumeko sing a full Japanese song. 

During their trainee years, the company had forced Yumeko to sing English covers to practice her pronunciation. Kira had always thought Yumeko’s voice was pretty—it wasn't as powerhouse-impressive as Sayaka’s or her own, but it had a captivating tone.

But in Japanese... it was like Yumeko had finally opened her throat. Her voice had a new weight—resonant and grounded.

"Better," Kira managed to say, her voice sounding tighter than she intended. "Much better. Let’s take it from the second verse. And Yumeko?"

"Yes?"

"Stop looking at me. Close your eyes. Focus on the feeling of the words, not the person behind the glass."

Kira sat back as the track started again. She watched Yumeko close her eyes, the studio lights casting a soft glow over her features. 

The song fit her perfectly; the melody seemed to unlock Yumeko’s unique timbre. She was finally expressing the lyrics the way Kira demanded. Kira didn’t understand the literal words, but she could connect with the desperation and longing vibrating in every note.

By the time Yumeko reached the bridge, Kira realized she was breathing hard. She couldn’t take her eyes off the girl.

She looked breathtaking this way.

Kira didn’t move. Her hand was still hovering over the talkback button, her knuckles white. Through the glass, Yumeko slowly opened her eyes. She looked flushed, her chest rising and falling in sync with the remaining rhythm of the song. She looked vulnerable. 

Kira felt the walls of the small control room closing in.

The air felt thick with something she didn’t know how to name. 

"Kira?" Yumeko’s voice came through the monitors, small and curious. "Was that... was that the emotion you wanted?"

Kira snapped her hand back as if the button had burned her. She stood up so abruptly the heavy producer’s chair skidded back against the carpet.

"It was enough," Kira said, her voice clipped, barely looking at the glass. She began gathering her things with a frantic, jerky energy that didn't match her usual precision. "You're ready. You've got the placement. I’m going to call the producer now and tell him you’re ready to lay down the final tracks."

Yumeko blinked, her hands still resting on the headphones. "Now? But I thought we were going to go over the ad-libs for the outro—"

"You don't need me for that," Kira interrupted, already halfway to the door. She felt a desperate, clawing need to breathe air that hadn't been touched by Yumeko’s voice. "You know the melody. Just... keep that same resonance. I have to check on Riri’s progress."

"Oh. Okay," Yumeko whispered. Through the glass, her expression shifted from triumph to a flicker of hurt confusion. She watched Kira’s retreating back, her head tilting slightly. "See you at the dorm?"

Kira didn't answer. She couldn't. If she turned around now and saw Yumeko looking like that—small and searching—she wasn’t sure she would survive it. 

"Don't overwork your throat," Kira tossed over her shoulder before practically escaping into the hallway.

The heavy studio door clicked shut behind her, muffling the sound of the world. Kira leaned her back against the cold industrial wall of the corridor, closing her eyes and taking a jagged, shuddering breath.

It’s just the music, she lied to herself, her hands trembling. 

***

When she pushed the heavy door open, Riri was standing in the center, bathed in the harsh fluorescent lights that bounced off the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Mary and Jennifer were sitting on the floor, leaning against the glass, watching with a focus that was rare for the two energetic girls. 

Riri was just standing, her feet planted wide, her hands shoved into the pockets of her slacks. She was singing the second verse of 'Heartbreak Anniversary'.

"...I get like this every time, on these days that feel like you and me..."

Kira leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed. 

As the Main Vocalist, she immediately heard the slight strain in Riri’s mid-range and the way she was clipping the ends of her phrases a bit too early.

In a technical sense, it was a "B-grade" vocal performance.

But the charm—the sheer, magnetic gravity of it—was undeniable.

Riri’s voice had a grainy, husky texture that Kira’s own polished soprano could never replicate. It didn't soar; it pulled you down. It felt like a steady hand on a shoulder in a dark room.

"God, Ri," Jennifer exhaled as the music hit a bridge. She shook her head, a genuine grin replacing her usual flirtatious smirk. "You sound hot. Like really hot. But why do you sound like you’ve had your heart broken fifty times when I know you spend your weekends playing video games?"

"It’s the tone," Mary added, her eyes fixed on Riri’s reflection. "It’s so grounded. It’s... attractive. Like, actually attractive."

Riri stopped singing, a small, rare flush creeping up her neck. She looked toward the door and caught Kira’s eye. "Was the pitch off? I felt like I was flat on the transition."

Kira walked further into the room, "The pitch was fine, but your breath support is leaking on the low notes. You’re letting the huskiness take over the actual resonance. If you don't tighten your core, you’ll lose your voice by the third take."

Riri nodded, taking the critique like the professional she was.

"But," Kira added, her voice softening just enough for the others to notice. "The girls are right. There’s a weight to your lower register that we’ve never used before. It’s good. It makes the song feel... intimate.” 

"See!" Jennifer jumped up, nudging Riri with her elbow. "Even the Ice King thinks you’re a heartbreaker.”

"Let's go again," Kira said, her voice sounding a little too cold in her own ears. "From the top. Riri, watch your diaphragm. Jennifer, stop distracting her. We have a schedule to keep.”

She needed the distraction. She knew her sister would listen to critiques and make sure to do better each take. This way she felt helpful, in control. 

*** 

The hallway was quiet, the usual frantic energy of the company dampened by the evening hour. Yumeko stepped out of the recording booth, her throat feeling slightly raw but her heart still buzzing from the session. 

She looked around the empty lounge area, her eyes searching for a familiar silhouette.

"Where’s Kira?" Yumeko asked, her voice sounding small in the quiet.

Jennifer was pulling on her padded jacket, checking her reflection in her phone screen. "Disappeared about an hour ago. She stayed to help Riri with breathing exercises but then she just... vanished. Said she had adjustments to make for her solo."

"She’s probably in Studio 4," Mary added, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "You know how she gets when a deadline is close. She locks herself in and doesn't come out until the floor is soaked in sweat. Are you coming back to the dorm with us?"

"In a minute," Yumeko lied, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag. "I think I left my water bottle in the practice wing."

She watched the girls head toward the elevators, their laughter echoing down the hall. As soon as the doors chimed shut, Yumeko turned toward the back of the building.

Studio 4 was at the very end of the corridor. The lights in the hallway were dimmed to save power, but a sliver of blue-white light escaped from under the studio door. Yumeko pressed her forehead against the cool wood, her breath hitching as she heard the faint, rhythmic thud-slide of sneakers against the floor.

She pushed the door open just a crack.

The room was dark except for the emergency exit sign and a single, low-powered spotlight near the sound system. In the center of the gloom, Kira was moving.

She wasn't doing the sharp, hip-hop isolations of their group choreography. She was doing something fluid, something that looked like it hurt. She was running through the opening of 'Uncover', her body arching back with a terrifying, liquid grace.

Yumeko froze.

Suddenly, she wasn't in the Seoul headquarters anymore. She was sixteen again, a new trainee standing in the wings of a dusty theater during a company showcase.

Year-End Evaluation Showcase (3 Years ago)

The wings of the theater were cramped and smelled of nervous energy. Yumeko was huddled in a corner with Minji, another trainee who had arrived from Busan the same week Yumeko had arrived from Osaka. 

"She... she next?" Minji whispered, pointing toward the silhouette standing near the heavy velvet curtain.

Yumeko nodded, her eyes fixed on the girl in the white leotard. 

Even then, the "Ice King" didn't pace or fidget. She stood perfectly still, her chin tilted at an angle that made everyone else in the room feel like they were intruding on her private thoughts.

"Kira-unnie," Yumeko murmured. "She do... ballet? I think?"

"I hear she top of class," Minji said, her brow furrowed as she searched for the words. "Very... very cold. Like... queen."

"No," Yumeko corrected softly, her gaze never wavering. "Like King."

The music began—a haunting, orchestral string arrangement. Kira stepped onto the stage, and the air in the wings seemed to drop ten degrees.

She remembered the way her breath had left her lungs when she first saw Kira on a stage. Kira had been performing a contemporary ballet piece back then—all white silk and moonlight. She had looked like a statue come to life, something holy and untouchable. Yumeko remembered thinking, 'I want to be her. I want to be near that perfection.' It had been a pure, distant admiration. An idolization of a girl who didn't seem to belong to the earth.

But as Yumeko watched Kira now, in the dim, sweaty reality of Studio 4, that old feeling felt like a memory from another life.

Kira’s hair was matted to her forehead, and her breathing was ragged, audible even over the music. She wasn't an untouchable statue anymore. She was a woman. The way her muscles shifted under her damp tank top, the way she bit her lip as she pushed through a difficult turn—it wasn't "perfection" anymore. It was human.

And it was a thousand times more dangerous.

Yumeko felt a sharp, jagged heat bloom in her chest. 

Back then, she had wanted to be Kira. Now, watching the way Kira’s body moved in the shadows, Yumeko realized with a dizzying sense of vertigo that she didn't want to be her at all.

She wanted to be the reason Kira moved like that.

Kira hit the final pose, her chest heaving, her head bowed. She stayed there for a long moment, the blue light catching the sweat dripping from her chin.

"I know you're there, Yumeko," Kira said, her voice a low, raspy thread that cut through the silence.

Yumeko’s heart did a slow, heavy roll. She pushed the door open the rest of the way, stepping into the blue-tinged dark. "How did you know?"

"I recognize your scent," Kira murmured, finally straightening up and turning around. Her eyes were dark, almost black in the low light, and they were fixed on Yumeko with a weight that made the room feel like it was shrinking. "Jasmine."

Yumeko froze, her hand still on the door handle. She didn't realize Kira had ever paid enough attention to notice.

"And something else," Kira continued, taking a slow, grounded step forward. The smell of Kira’s own sweat and that familiar, comforting Vanilla perfume drifted toward Yumeko, mixing with the air. "Something sharp. Pepper?"

"My mother's favorite," Yumeko whispered. "She said Jasmine is for the girl people see, and the pepper is for the woman they don't."

Kira stopped just a few feet away. The untouchable girl from Yumeko’s memory completely gone now. 

This Kira was breathing hard, her skin damp, her presence overwhelming. And no longer untouchable but instead, inviting.

"Jasmine and Pepper," Kira said, her voice dropping to a register that made the hair on Yumeko’s arms stand up. Her gaze dropped to Yumeko’s lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to her eyes, dark and unreadable. "It fits you.”

Yumeko was so screwed.

Chapter Text

The dorm was finally quiet, the hum of the city outside the window the only thing grounding Kira to reality. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, her damp hair draped over a towel on her shoulders, the scent of the studio still clinging to her skin.

She should have been sleeping. 

She had to be up at 6:00 AM but the first official choreography rehearsal with Yumeko was looming over her like a physical weight.

Kira reached for her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen.

She felt like a voyeur, a traitor to her own cold logic. 

But she had to know. She had to understand. 

Maybe if she could just rationalize the lyrics, she could prove that what she felt was just a byproduct of the music breaching the language barrier.

Vanilla - Taeyeon (Lyrics)

She scrolled through the digital glow until she found the English translation. She swallowed hard, the light of the screen reflecting in the dark, tired depths of her eyes.

“Your back to me, casually ignoring me. I want you, I want you. Staring at the distance. I need you, I need you…”

Kira shifted on the bed, the silk of her pajamas whispering against her skin. She remembered the way Yumeko had tilted her head back in the booth, the way her hand had reached out as if she were trying to touch the person she was singing to.

“Feelings I can’t control. I can’t just spit them out.”

The words hit Kira like a physical blow.

She closed her eyes, the lyrics burning behind her eyelids. The logical part of her brain tried to argue that it was just a song, just a cover, just Yumeko being an expressive performer. 

"Damn it," Kira whispered into the empty room, dropping her phone face-down on the mattress.

She stood up and walked to the mirror, staring at her reflection. She looked pale, her expression guarded even when no one was watching.

She needed to stop. She didn’t have time for... whatever this was.

Yumeko was her band member. She was her Leader. 

Her job was to take care of all her members equally. She had to stop letting these... distractions get in the way of the group's success.

I'm just being overprotective, she told her reflection, her jaw tightening. 

That’s all it is. She was curious because she needed to be informed. She needed to know what was happening in the younger girl’s life so she could lead her properly. That was her responsibility.

It was a lie, and even in the dark, she knew it.

She checked the time. 4:33 AM. Sleep was a lost cause now. The walls of the room felt like they were vibrating with the melody of that song. Driven by a desperate need for friction and cold air, Kira grabbed her running shoes. She would run until her lungs burned and her legs gave out—anything to outrun the image of Yumeko’s eyes behind the studio glass.

*** 

The morning sunlight in the practice room felt aggressive, reflecting off the mirrors with a brightness that made Kira’s head throb. She sat on the floor, her back against the glass, a bottle of water gripped in her hand. Her legs felt like lead from the 4AM run, and the lyrics to Vanilla were still playing on a loop in the back of her mind.

"Unnie, you look like a ghost," Bora said, bouncing into the room with the kind of high-octane morning energy that felt like a personal attack. She dropped her bag and started stretching. "I saw you coming back into the dorm when I was getting up for my water. It was barely light out! Were you seriously running that early?"

Mary walked over, her expression shifting. She placed a hand on Kira’s shoulder, her brow furrowing. "Kira, you shouldn’t run when you have dance practice the same day. You’re going to burn out."

Kira didn't look up. She just stared at her reflection, noting the faint, dark shadows under her eyes that even her usual composure couldn't hide. "I needed the air," she said, her voice sounding raspy even to her own ears. "I'm fine, Mary."

Jennifer stepped into the center of the room. 

She was wearing a cropped hoodie and high-waisted shorts, her hair tied back in a messy, effortless ponytail. She looked at Kira, her eyes glinting with that signature, dangerous smirk. 

"You're too tense," Jennifer said, her voice dropping into a playful, honeyed tone. "You’ve got that 'Leader' scowl on so tight I’m surprised your face hasn't frozen. I think I have something that could help you."

"Unless it's an espresso, I'm not interested," Kira muttered.

"Better," Jennifer countered. She walked over to the sound system and tapped her phone. "Watch me. No critiques allowed. Just... watch."

The heavy, seductive beat of Alaina Castillo’s 'Pocket Locket' filled the room.

Jennifer didn't wait for the beat to drop. She started moving instantly, her style a sharp contrast to Kira’s rigid precision. It was fluid, flirty, and unapologetically sensual.

She moved as if she were made of smoke, her hips tracing slow, deliberate circles as she locked eyes with Kira in the mirror.

She wasn't just practicing; she was performing. 

She moved toward Kira, dancing just inches away from the mirrors, her presence warm and vibrant.

Kira tried to maintain her stoic mask, but as Jennifer dropped into a low, controlled floor move—looking directly at Kira with a playful wink—the Leader finally cracked.

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of Kira’s mouth. She let out a short, breathy laugh, the tension in her shoulders finally beginning to dissipate.

Jennifer was beautiful—there was no denying that. She was magnetic and distracting, a perfect fire-wall against the thoughts that had been haunting Kira all night.

For a few minutes, Kira allowed herself to just be a girl watching another pretty girl dance for her. It was easy. It was safe. It didn't involve Japanese lyrics or late-night balconies.

"See?" Jennifer teased, spinning out of the final pose as the music faded. She was breathless and glowing, her hands on her hips. "The Ice King lives. You’re welcome."

Kira shook her head, her mood finally shifting from "gray" to something more manageable. "You're a menace, Jennifer."

"I'm a wonderful distraction," Jennifer corrected, her smirk widening. "And clearly, you needed one."

Kira began to stand up, reaching for her towel to get ready for the official start of the unit rehearsal. But as she turned toward the door, her movement froze.

Yumeko was standing there.

She wasn't wearing her usual brilliant smile. She was holding a fresh bottle of water, her knuckles white around the plastic. Her face was pale, and her eyes—usually so bright and warm—were clouded with an unmistakable, raw expression.

She had clearly been standing there long enough to see the whole performance. She had seen the way Kira laughed, the way Kira had looked at Jennifer with an ease she hadn't shown Yumeko in months. 

The smile on Kira’s face vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, jagged guilt.

"Yumeko," Kira started, her voice sounding hollow in the sudden silence of the room.

Yumeko didn't say a word. She just looked at Kira for one long, devastating second before her gaze dropped to the floor. She bit her lip, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a trembling hand, and stepped into the room, walking past them toward the corner to set her bag down.

The "Jasmine" scent hit Kira like a wall, but this time, it felt cold.

***

The Main Studio was too small. That was the only thought Yumeko could hold onto as the bass of the Monster track cut out for the tenth time. The mirrors were fogging at the corners, blurring their reflections into grey smudges, but the heat wasn't coming from the ventilation.

Kira wasn't looking at her. She was staring at the play button on the sound system, her thumb hovering over it with a restless, shaking intensity. 

She had stopped smiling an hour ago, and her silence had a sharp, jagged edge to it that made Yumeko feel like she was walking on glass.

"Again," Kira said. The word was flat, toneless.

"Kira, we’ve done the intro five times in a row," Yumeko ventured, her voice sounding thin in the damp air.

Kira finally looked up. Her eyes weren't icy—they were just tired, the skin beneath them bruised with a lack of sleep that made her gaze feel too heavy.

"We’ve done it five times, and you’re still a fraction of a second behind my shoulder," Kira countered. She didn't sound like Kira; she sounded like someone who was desperately trying to keep a machine from falling apart. "If the sync isn't perfect, the whole silhouette looks messy. It looks like we're guessing."

Kira walked toward her. She didn't "glide"—she just moved with a clinical, bone-deep exhaustion. When she stepped into Yumeko’s space, the scent of vanilla and salt was distracting, a prickly heat that made Yumeko’s pulse skip for all the wrong reasons.

"Here," Kira murmured. The track had been cutting out for twenty minutes, and the repetitive industrial loop was starting to feel like a headache behind Yumeko's eyes.

Kira didn't ask; she corrected. 

She stepped directly into Yumeko's space, closing the physical gap with a sudden, localized heat that was completely jarring in the air-conditioned studio.

Before Yumeko could register the movement, Kira reached out and took hold of her waist. It wasn’t a gentle guidance; it was a firm, uncompromising grip. Her fingers—strong from years of training and slightly calloused—dug into the soft, grey fabric of Yumeko’s hoodie, anchoring her in place.

With a decisive, powerful pivot, Kira forced Yumeko’s hips three inches to the left, snapping her into the correct alignment with a sudden, physical finality that made Yumeko’s spine crack.

Yumeko stumbled, her sneakers squeaking painfully against the linoleum. The sharp, unexpected sound amplified the sudden silence of the studio. Kira didn't let go immediately. Her grip remained tight, her palms pressing into Yumeko's waist, a territorial physical boundary she had just drawn with her own strength.

Yumeko couldn't breathe. The feeling of being handled—of Kira's hands making her move—was making her head swim.

Yumeko stumbled, her sneaker squeaking loudly against the floor.

"Sorry," Yumeko whispered, her eyes fixed on the floor. "I’m just... it’s a lot of counts to remember."

Kira didn't let go immediately. Her hand lingered on the fabric of Yumeko’s hoodie, her thumb pressing into the side of her waist for a heartbeat too long.

"It’s not the counts," Kira said softly, her voice dropping to a register that made Yumeko’s stomach flip. "You’re anticipating me. You’re so worried about where I’m going to be that you’re losing your own balance. Stop looking for me in the mirror and just... stay in the pocket. Stay with me."

Kira leaned in, her forehead nearly brushing Yumeko’s temple. The "Leader" mask was slipping, revealing a raw frustration that felt far more intimate than any practiced persona.

"I can't do this if you're flinching, Yumeko," Kira rasped. "I'm trying to hold the center of this unit together, but I need you to be the other half. If you can’t trust me to lead the movement, the whole thing is just... empty."

"I do trust you," Yumeko said, her voice finally finding some traction. “You know I do.”

Kira’s gaze dropped to Yumeko’s mouth for a split second before she snapped her eyes back to the mirror. She cleared her throat, the professional distance slamming back into place like a physical door.

"Five minutes. Drink some water," Kira managed, stepping back and breaking the heat between them.

Yumeko retreated to the corner, her chest heaving with a shallow, jagged rhythm. She didn't reach for her water immediately; she just leaned against the cool glass of the mirror, her skin prickling where Kira’s hands had just been.

Through the fog beginning to coat the mirror, she watched Kira.

Kira wasn't resting. She stayed in the center of the room, her silhouette sharp and restless as she obsessively checked her own alignment. She was moving through the counts in a silent, high-speed blur—her jaw set so tight it looked like marble, her fingers twitching against her thighs as if she were mentally correcting every atom of her own posture.

Kira looked like she was vibrating with the sheer effort of holding the room together, her focus so narrow it was predatory.

Watching her, Yumeko felt a sudden, sickening lurch in her stomach that had nothing to do with exhaustion. It wasn't just Kira’s strength that was pulling her under—it was this. 

This raw, frantic perfectionism that made Kira look like she might snap if anyone so much as breathed out of sync.

"Time’s up," Kira said.

The words snapped the silence like a dry branch. Kira didn't look back to see if Yumeko was ready; she simply turned toward the sound system, her movements efficient and cold.

Through the grey haze of the fogged mirror, she watched Yumeko reach for her water bottle.

The movement was simple, but it sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated irritation through Kira’s system. As Yumeko leaned over, the white pleated fabric of her tennis skirt shifted and swayed, the hem riding up just enough to catch the harsh overhead light against the smooth, flushed skin of her thighs.

Kira’s grip tightened on her own elbows, her knuckles turning white. She felt a surge of heat that she desperately ignore but it was far too sharp for that.

She was angry that Yumeko looked so… unprofessional in that tiny skirt. 

But beneath the anger, there was a jagged, pulse-quickening curiosity—a sudden, desperate urge to reach out and see if Yumeko’s skin felt as hot to the touch as it looked.

"That skirt," Kira muttered, gesturing toward the hem with a sharp flick of her hand. "It’s distracting you, Yumeko. Every time you turn, you’re adjusting the pleats. It’s making your footwork sloppy."

Yumeko smoothed the fabric over her hip, a small, daring spark of defiance lighting up her chest. "You’re the only one here worried about the skirt, Kira."

Kira’s head snapped up, her dark eyes flashing with a mix of shock and something that looked dangerously like a challenge. The silence in the studio became absolute.

"Position," Kira commanded.

The music started—the low, industrial hum of the bridge. This was the part where they finally had to merge. Kira stood behind her, her chest inches from Yumeko’s back. As Yumeko lowered herself into the formation, she felt Kira’s hands find their places—not "claiming" them like a villain, but anchoring her, holding her steady as the bass dropped.

"Don't look at the glass," Kira whispered against the crown of Yumeko’s head. Her breath was warm, a stark contrast to the cold studio air. "Just look at me."

***

Kira and Yumeko sat side by side, their backs against the glass.

They were both a mess—hair sticking to their foreheads, chests heaving, sweating. 

Kira leaned her head back against the mirror, her eyes closed, a half-empty water bottle dangling from her fingers.

The silence was peaceful for a moment, until Yumeko spoke, her voice small and unexpectedly sharp.

"You’d probably have a much easier time if you were doing this with Jennifer, wouldn't you?"

Kira’s eyes snapped open. She didn't turn her head, but she could see Yumeko’s silhouette in the peripheral—picking at a loose thread on her skirt.

"What?" Kira asked, her voice raspy.

"I saw you this morning," Yumeko continued, finally looking at her. Her eyes were bright with a mix of exhaustion and hurt. "The way you were smiling. You seemed to... really enjoy the way she moves. She’s a better dancer than me. She wouldn't trip over the transitions or struggle with the gravity. Maybe you’d prefer a partner who doesn't need to be manhandled into place."

Kira felt a strange, fluttering sensation in her chest. 

Normally, she would have shut this down with a lecture on professionalism. But she was too tired for that right now. She spent all day expelling all her frustrations while rehearsing their choreography. So she didn’t have it on herself to be angry right now. Besides seeing the sweet Yumeko so visibly bothered by another girl... it was honestly cute.

She always looked especially endearing when she was all possessive like this. So spoiled. 

A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at Kira’s lips. She decided to lean into it.

"Well," Kira murmured, finally turning to face her. "Jennifer is a professional. She has great lines. And she certainly doesn't wear tennis skirts to a practice." She paused, watching the way Yumeko’s eyes widened. "She’s very... expressive. It would definitely be a different kind of energy."

Yumeko’s grip on her water bottle tightened so hard the plastic crinkled. "Right. A lustful energy. I’m sure that’s exactly what the fans—and you—would want."

"She is attractive," Kira added, her voice a low, teasing hum. She was pushing it, watching the flush on Yumeko’s cheeks deepen from heat to genuine upset. "And she listens to my commands without talking back. It would be a lot less... stressful."

Yumeko stood up abruptly, her movement jerky. She didn't look at Kira. She started stuffing her things into her bag, her breath coming in short, jagged hitches. 

"Fine. If it’s so stressful, maybe you should just ask Manager Park to switch the units. I don't want to be the one holding back the main dancer from a partner she actually likes."

"I wouldn’t go as far as to say I like her. Jennifer is a little brat," Kira said, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She didn't move from her spot on the floor, watching Yumeko's frantic movements with a calm that was annoying. "Besides, I like manhandling you. Your tiny little doll body makes it easy for me to do so."

Yumeko froze, her hand halfway into her dance bag. The word manhandling vibrated in the air between them, thick and heavy. 

Her face, already flushed from the practice, turned a deep, unmistakable crimson. She wanted to snap back, to keep fighting—still mad at Kira for calling Jennifer attractive and at Jennifer for putting up a show for Kira—but her brain was short-circuiting.

"Don't... don't say things like that," Yumeko whispered, her voice trembling. "It’s not funny. You still called her attractive. You still looked at her like... like she was exactly what you needed. If you want someone obedient and professional, then go. I’m just the girl in the inefficient skirt, right?"

She reached for her water bottle, her movements jerky and uncoordinated as she tried to shove it into her bag. Her vision was blurring slightly—not from exhaustion, but from the raw, frustrating sting of all the conflicting feelings from the day.

Before she could zip the bag shut, a cool, firm hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Yumeko. Stop."

Kira’s voice changed. It wasn’t the cold commanding one from earlier or the annoyingly teasing one from just two seconds ago. It was soft and impossibly close. 

Kira stood up and, with a gentle but at the same time hard pressure, guided Yumeko back down until they were both sitting on the floor again, knees nearly touching in the dim blue light of the studio.

"Look at me," Kira murmured.

Yumeko kept her head bowed, her shoulders shaking with a small, jagged breath. She didn't want Kira to see her like this—not when she felt so small.

Kira reached out, her fingers catching Yumeko’s chin and tilting it upward. She didn't let go. She waited until Yumeko’s tear-bright eyes finally met hers.

"I called her attractive because she is. That’s a fact," Kira said, her voice  steady in the quiet room. "Jennifer is brilliant, Yumeko. She’s one of the best performers I’ve ever worked with, and I’m proud she’s in our group. But attraction... that’s easy. Anyone can look at Jennifer and see a star."

She moved her hand from Yumeko’s chin to her cheek, her thumb brushing away a stray tear with a tenderness that felt like a secret.

"But I don’t want her for this unit," Kira whispered. "I need the friction. I need the way you fight the movement and the way you eventually give into it. Jennifer is a professional; she does exactly what I ask. But you? You’re the only one who makes this cover feel authentic. This dance is ours. It only exists because of the specific way we move together."

The silence that followed was different from the tension of the rehearsal. It was sweet, heavy, and desperately private. 

"You’re a brat too, you know," Yumeko whispered, a small, watery laugh escaping her lips as she leaned almost imperceptibly into Kira’s palm.

"I know," Kira smiled, her gaze softening in a way she only ever allowed for Yumeko. She pulled her hand back, but the ghost of the touch lingered. "Now, let’s get out of here. If we stay any longer, I might actually turn into a monster."

She stood up and offered a hand to Yumeko.

"Come on. We have a 6:00 AM call. If you don’t sleep, you’ll be inefficient tomorrow, and I’ll have to be mean to you again."

Yumeko took her hand, letting Kira pull her up. "You liked being mean to me today."

Kira didn’t deny it. She just squeezed Yumeko’s hand once—a firm, grounding pressure—before letting go and heading for the door. "Shut up and walk, Yumeko."

***

Yumeko was back in Studio 4, but the blue emergency lights had been replaced by a deep, pulsing crimson that seemed to beat in time with her heart. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of crushed Jasmine and a Vanilla so concentrated it tasted like granulated sugar on the back of her throat.

The Monster track wasn't playing through the speakers; it was vibrating inside her marrow, a slow, distorted bassline that made her very skin hum.

"You're late, Yumeko," a voice rasped.

Kira emerged from the shadows. She looked different here—larger, more predatory, her silhouette swallowing the red light. She didn't walk; she prowled, her eyes fixed on Yumeko with a dark, hungry focus that made the air in the room vanish.

She moved with a sudden, blurring speed, her hand slamming against the velvet-lined wall behind Yumeko’s head. The impact shuddered through Yumeko's spine. Kira’s other hand—searingly hot and rough with callouses—didn't stop at her waist this time. It slid upward, the palm flattening against the bare, sensitive skin of Yumeko’s stomach.

Yumeko let out a choked, broken sound, her head falling back against the velvet.

"I told you to give in to the gravity," Kira murmured. Her lips didn't kiss her; they grazed the sensitive cord of Yumeko’s neck, her breath smelling of dark coffee and something sharp, like ozone. Her teeth followed—a sudden, possessive nip that made Yumeko’s entire body arch off the wall. "Why are you still fighting me?"

"I'm not," Yumeko gasped. Her fingers tangled in the front of Kira’s leather vest, pulling her in until there wasn't a single inch of air left between them. "I'm not fighting. Please."

Kira’s hand moved higher, her thumb tracing the underside of Yumeko’s breast with a bruising, rhythmic pressure. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a gravelly, filthy whisper that felt like it was vibrating inside Yumeko’s skull.

"Then tell me, Yumeko," Kira growled, her lips dragging agonizingly slow against Yumeko’s jawline, hovering just a hair’s breadth from her mouth. "What do you really want?"

Yumeko whined—a high, desperate sound she would have been embarrassed by if she weren't so consumed by the heat. Her skin felt too tight, every nerve ending screaming for the friction only Kira could provide.

"I want... I want you," Yumeko sobbed, the truth finally tearing itself out of her throat.

Kira’s grip tightened, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of Yumeko’s hip as she shoved her harder against the wall.

"Say it properly," Kira commanded. Her hand slid up to claim Yumeko’s throat—not to choke, but to hold, her thumb resting directly over the frantic, violent jump of Yumeko’s pulse. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do."

"Touch me," Yumeko confessed, her eyes fluttering shut as she surrendered to the heat. "I want you so much. Please, Kira…”

Kira let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated through Yumeko’s entire frame. "Finally. A little honesty."

She didn't wait for another word. Kira’s mouth crashed onto hers—a frantic, heavy invasion that tasted like salt and surrender. Her other hand slid lower, the leather of her gloves a sharp, electric contrast against the feverish heat of Yumeko’s inner thigh, pushing higher and higher until the friction became a blinding, white-hot ache—

Yumeko bolted upright in the dark, a loud, ragged moan dying in her throat.

The silence of the dorm was deafening. She was gasping for air, her chest heaving as she stared into the shadows of the room. Her heart was hammering a frantic, violent rhythm against her ribs.

The heavy, embarrassing throbbing between her legs was the only remnant of the dream. She was slick, her silk pajama shorts clinging to her skin in a way that made her whimper with a mix of shame and overwhelming realization.

"Oh, god," she whispered, her voice cracking in the dark.

Suddenly, a sharp, twisting cramp bloomed deep in her abdomen. It was a dull, rhythmic pull—the arrival of her period, amplified by the hormonal surge of the dream.

She let out a shaky, hysterical laugh, burying her face in her damp pillow.

It was 5:15 AM.

In forty-five minutes, she had to walk out into the living room. She had to sit three inches away from Kira in the cramped van. She had to let Kira’s hands—the same hands that had just been everywhere in her subconscious—touch her during practice.

Yumeko rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling as a fresh wave of heat rolled over her.

"God," she whimpered, the phantom taste of coffee and vanilla still haunting the back of her throat. "I am so screwed.”

Chapter Text

Outside, the city was a blur of grey morning fog, but inside the van, the air was suffocatingly small.

Yumeko sat pressed against the window, her knees pulled tight together. Every time the van hit a bump, she felt the dull, rhythmic throb of her cramps.

"Unnie," Bora murmured from the seat behind her, leaning forward until her chin was almost on Yumeko’s shoulder. "Are you okay? I think I heard you having a nightmare last night. You were... making these sounds. Like you were scared."

Yumeko’s blood turned to ice. She felt the heat climb up her neck, a vivid, traitorous crimson. "I... I’m fine, Bora. Just didn't sleep well."

The seat beside her shifted. Kira, who had been silently reviewing the day's schedule on her tablet, turned fully toward her. Her dark eyes were narrowed, scanning Yumeko’s face with a clinical, intense worry that made Yumeko want to crawl under the floorboards.

"A nightmare?" Kira’s voice was low, dropping into that resonant register that had commanded Yumeko to 'be mine' just an hour ago. She reached out, her fingers hovering near Yumeko’s forehead. "You’re flushed. Do you have a fever?"

"No! No, it’s just..." Yumeko scrambled for the shield she’d prepared. "It’s my period. It started this morning. I always get... weird dreams the night before. And the cramps are just hitting hard."

Mary sighed sympathetically from the front seat. "Poor thing. Do you need a heating pack when we get to the set?"

"I'll survive," Yumeko whispered, keeping her eyes glued to the window.

"You sure it was a nightmare?" Jennifer’s voice sliced through the sympathy like a razor. She was lounging in the back row, her eyes glinting with a terrifying, playful sharpness. She had been watching the way Yumeko flinched at Kira’s voice. "Are you sure it wasn’t other kind of sounds you were making?"

"Jennifer! Ew!" Bora gagged, shoving a pillow at her. "Don't be gross so early in the morning."

Kira didn't join in the laughter. She didn't even look at Jennifer. Her entire focus remained locked on Yumeko, her expression deepening into something fiercely attentive. She ignored the joke entirely, reaching out to finally press the back of her hand against Yumeko’s cheek.

Kira’s skin was deathly cold—the "Ice King" personified—and the contact sent a violent jolt of electricity straight to Yumeko’s core.

"You're burning up," Kira murmured, her thumb grazing the curve of Yumeko’s earlobe. Her voice had softened into that protective tone, the one she used when one of them was truly hurting. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have asked for a later call time for you."

"It's just hormones, Kira," Yumeko breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"It's not just anything if you're in pain," Kira countered. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, silk eye mask and her own heavy fleece jacket. She draped the jacket over Yumeko’s lap, the scent of Vanilla hitting Yumeko like a physical blow. "Lean on me. Close your eyes. I’ll tell the driver to turn down the AC."

Before Yumeko could protest, Kira moved closer, closing the three inches of space between them. She wrapped an arm around Yumeko’s shoulders, pulling her firmly against her side.

It was supposed to be a comfort. It was supposed to be "spoiling" her sick member. But for Yumeko, it was psychological warfare.

She was tucked into the crook of Kira’s neck—the exact spot she had been kissing in her dream. She could feel the steady, calm rhythm of Kira’s heart against her arm. Every time Kira shifted to adjust the jacket or whispered, "Is that better?" into her hair, Yumeko felt herself losing her mind.

The coldness of Kira’s hands against her pulse point was meant to soothe the "fever," but it only made the fire underneath Yumeko’s skin burn hotter.

"I've got you," Kira whispered, her breath ghosting over Yumeko’s temple. "Just sleep.”

Yumeko shut her eyes tight, clutching the fleece jacket until her knuckles turned white. She was trapped in the best, most diabolical kind of hell.

***

The filming set for the vocal covers was a converted jazz lounge, draped in heavy emerald curtains and bathed in a warm, amber glow. 

Usually, Yumeko would be center stage, but today, she was tucked into a velvet armchair in the shadows, a hot tea clutched in her hands and Kira’s heavy fleece jacket still draped over her shoulders like a shield.

"Stay there," Kira had commanded earlier, her voice dipping into that protective, low frequency. "You’re pale. I don't want you on your feet unless It’s necessary."

But being sidelined was its own kind of torture.

In the center of the lounge, under the spotlight, Kira and Jennifer were standing at a vintage silver microphone. They were recording a cover of 'Kiss Me More,' and the vibe was a complete departure from the dark intensity of 'Monster.' This was pink, bubbly, yet suggestive.

"From the top," the sound engineer called out.

The beat kicked in—bouncy, disco-infused, and sensual. Jennifer, ever the professional 'Lust' representative, didn't just sing; she performed. She leaned into Kira’s space, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she hit the opening lines.

"Can you kiss me more? We're so young, girl, we ain't got nothin' to lose..."

Jennifer decided it would be a good idea to change the pronouns to make the duet feel more realistic.

She reached out, her fingers dancing along the lapel of Kira’s blazer, her voice a honeyed, airy coo. She was playing it up for the cameras, but to Yumeko, every hair-flip and lingering look felt like a targeted attack. 

Kira, for her part, was leaning into her role as always. 

She stood steady, her hands in her pockets, but she was smiling—that rare, relaxed smile she usually saved for the dorms.

"All on my tongue, I want it..." Kira’s voice was low, vibrating deep in Yumeko’s ears and going straight to her lower stomach. 

After her dream last night, hearing Kira sing about her tongue wasn’t helping her at all. Yumeko’s imagination, already fueled by a hormonal surge and a lack of sleep, began to run wild. 

"I feel like fuckin somethin'..." Jennifer purred, her hand sliding down Kira's arm with a slow, deliberate friction.

Yumeko let out a silent, jagged breath, her fingers digging into the fleece of Kira’s jacket.

Oh, do you now? Yumeko thought, a spike of pure, acidic irony slicing through her jealousy. 

Get in line, Jennifer. 

It also didn’t help that the stylists had leaned heavily into the "King" aesthetic for Kira today. 

She was wearing a sharp, tailored black suit that hugged her shoulders with a structural precision that made her look taller, broader, and dangerously masculine. No tie—just a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the pale, sharp line of her collarbones.

Beside her, Jennifer was a vision in a sheer, floor-length slip dress that moved like liquid silk.

But Yumeko couldn't look at Jennifer. Not when Kira was standing at the mic, her large, elegant hands gripped around the silver stand. As Kira hit the lower, raspier notes of the second verse, the veins in her hands—the ones that had been so firm against Yumeko’s waist in her dream—traveled up her forearms, becoming prominent and corded with the effort of the performance.

Then Kira’s head tilted back slightly as she pushed for a melodic run, and Yumeko tracked the way a single vein pulsed at Kira's temple. It was a display of raw, physical competence that made Yumeko’s own pulse skip a beat.

"Taste breakfast, lunch, and gin and juice..."

The way Kira delivered those lines… There was a knowing, lived-in quality to her delivery—a slight, dark smirk as if she actually did know a thing or two about what breakfast and lunch tasted like when they weren't served on a tray. 

Yumeko felt a hot, prickly wave of jealousy. How much did Kira know about these lyrics?

The song ended with a final, lingering harmony. Jennifer didn't just step away; she lingered in the heat of the spotlight, laughing and brushing a stray hair off Kira’s lapel. Kira didn't flinch. She just stood there, looking like a King who had just finished a casual stroll through her kingdom.

But then, the King’s eyes shifted.

Kira’s gaze cut through the amber light, landing directly on the dark corner where Yumeko sat. The idol persona didn't vanish, but it transformed into something more localized, more intense. She didn't say anything to Jennifer as she handed her a water bottle; she just started walking.

Every step Kira took toward her felt like a countdown.

Kira reached the armchair, looming over Yumeko like a dark, tailored shadow. She didn't sit. She leaned down, one hand—veins still prominent from the performance—resting on the arm of Yumeko’s chair, effectively boxing her in.

"You're shivering," Kira murmured, her voice still raspy from the recording. She reached out, her cold, slender fingers pressing against the side of Yumeko’s neck to check her temperature. "Is the pain getting worse, or is it just the AC?"

Yumeko swallowed hard, the scent of Kira’s perfume hitting her all at once. Up close, the suit was even more devastating. "I'm fine,” she managed to say.

She tightened her grip on the edges of Kira’s jacket, pulling the oversized fabric around her like a shield. 

It was a pathetic attempt at boundaries; the jacket already smelled entirely of Kira, and having the woman herself standing over her in that damn suit was making Yumeko’s head spin.

Kira didn't look convinced. She leaned down slightly, her shadow falling over Yumeko, effectively blocking out the rest of the busy lounge.

"You're flushed, Yumeko," Kira murmured. She reached out, the back of her hand—cool and steady—pressing briefly against Yumeko’s cheek to gauge her temperature. "Is the heating pad not working? Do you need more tea? I can tell the staff to bring the ginger honey one."

"No, really. I'm okay. It’s just the... the hormones," Yumeko lied, her eyes darting toward Kira’s collarbones, then quickly away.

She couldn't stop thinking about the way Kira had delivered those lines. The way she felt so comfortable singing those pronouns and leaning into Jennifer’s space.

"You sounded... different today," Yumeko said, the curiosity slipping out before her filter could catch it. She looked up, catching the way a stray lock of Kira’s dark hair fell over her forehead. "During the duet. You sang those lyrics like… you knew what you were talking about."

Kira didn’t pull away; if anything, she leaned a fraction closer, her hand shifting from Yumeko’s cheek to the velvet headrest of the chair. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of Kira’s mouth.

"It's called acting, Yumeko," Kira said, though there was a glint in her eyes that suggested otherwise. She lowered her voice, the sound vibrating in the small space between them. "Or maybe I just have a very vivid imagination. Why? Did you not like it?"

Yumeko felt the question in places she wasn’t prepared to admit, not even to her own mind. The performative idol was gone, replaced by this tailored, masculine version of her best friend who seemed perfectly aware of the effect she was having.

Yumeko’s grip on the jacket tightened, her knuckles white.

"It wasn't that," Yumeko whispered, her gaze dropping to the sharp line of Kira's lapel. "It was just... a side of you I haven't seen. It felt very different from the person who tells me to eat my vegetables and go to bed early."

Kira’s low chuckle was a dark, resonant sound that made the fine hairs on Yumeko’s neck stand up. "Everyone has a side they don't show the group, Yumeko. Even Leaders."

The silence between them stretched, thick and uncomfortably private despite the crew moving equipment only a few feet away. 

"Is that what that was?" Yumeko asked, her voice a little braver than she felt. She looked up, her eyes tracing the pulse in Kira's neck before meeting her steady gaze. "Just a side of you I haven't seen? It kind of felt like you were... remembering something."

Kira’s expression didn't shift, but the air in her lungs seemed to hitch. She looked down at Yumeko, really looked at her, her dark eyes tracking the way Yumeko was bundled into her jacket, looking small and flushed and entirely too beautiful.

"Maybe I was," Kira said quietly. She leaned in just another inch, enough for Yumeko to feel the heat radiating off her. "Does it bother you? That I might have thoughts that don't involve schedules and choreography?"

Yumeko swallowed, her heart doing a slow, heavy roll in her chest. The jealousy she’d felt watching Jennifer was still there, but it was morphing into something more dangerous—a territorial hunger.

"It doesn't bother me," Yumeko whispered, her breath ghosting over the lapel of Kira's suit. "I just... I didn't think you’d ever looked at anyone like that before."

Kira’s gaze dropped, lingering on Yumeko’s mouth for a second too long to be accidental. 

"I haven't," Kira murmured, her voice dropping to a register that was for Yumeko’s ears only. "Not until recently, anyway."

She reached out, her cool fingers grazing the shell of Yumeko’s ear as she tucked a stray lock of hair back. It wasn't a 'Leader' gesture. It was slow, lingering, and completely unnecessary.

"You should drink your tea," Kira said, though she didn't move an inch away. Her thumb traced the line of Yumeko’s jaw, a touch so light it was almost a suggestion. "You’re getting worked up over a song, Yumeko. They’re just lyrics."

"Then why are your hands shaking?" Yumeko challenged softly, her eyes dropping to where Kira’s fingers were resting against the velvet chair.

Kira didn't flinch, but her grip on the headrest tightened until the veins in her hand corded again, stark and prominent against the dark fabric. She let out a short, sharp breath that was almost a laugh—but there was no humor in it.

"Because I'm tired," Kira lied, her voice rough. She finally straightened up, the distance between them feeling like a sudden drop in temperature. She smoothed the front of her blazer, her professional armor snapping back into place, though her eyes remained dark. "And because you ask too many questions when you're sick. Just... sit still. I'll be back later to check on you."

She turned and walked away before Yumeko could say another word, her strides long and a little too fast.

***

Yumeko was curled up in her bed, her curtains drawn tight against the moonlight. Her period was tapering off, but the sensitivity—the raw, electric awareness of every touch and look from Kira—was only getting worse.

She opened Instagram. Her finger hovered over the 'Add to Story' button.

She chose a photo she’d taken secretly during the shoot: a blurry, close-up shot of her own hand resting on the velvet armchair in the lounge. In the corner of the frame, just barely visible, was the sharp, black sleeve of Kira’s suit jacket, the fabric still holding the warmth of the woman who had stood over her like a king.

She didn't add a caption. She didn't need one. She searched for the music tag.

Dreaming of You — Cigarettes after Sex

The slow, ambient bassline started to throb through her phone speakers.

“Now I’m dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming of you.”

It was a confession wrapped in a melancholic haze. It was Yumeko admitting that the 5:15 AM dream wasn't an isolated incident; it was her new, pathological reality.

She hit post and dropped the phone onto her chest, her heart racing.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

A notification popped up. @KingTimurov liked your story.

Yumeko held her breath, staring at the ceiling. She expected the "Like".

Five minutes later, Yumeko saw the glowing ring around Kira’s profile picture. She tapped it, her hands shaking so hard she almost dropped the device.

Kira’s story was a single, dark image of the view from their dorm balcony. The city lights were out of focus, just orange and white bokeh against the black sky. In the center of the darkness, she had tagged a song.

 I Want — Mk.gee

“So tell me what you're dreaming about... / 'Cause I want it.”

Yumeko’s phone slipped from her grip, clattering onto the floorboards.

It wasn’t a subtle sign. It was a direct, unfiltered response. Kira wasn't just acknowledging the song Yumeko had posted and liking it as a response; she was actually participating in Yumeko’s delusion. 

I want it.

The lyrics flashed on the screen, pulsing in time with the city lights outside. In the room next door, Kira was likely leaning against that same balcony railing, the black suit trousers still on, her white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. 

She was asking Yumeko to admit the one thing that could ruin them both.

Because Yumeko wasn’t sure they could survive the weight of her deepest desires. Because the truth was, Yumeko wanted Kira.

There was no denying it anymore.

She had always wanted her, in shifting, evolving ways throughout the years. 

At first, she just wanted to be her roommate—to be the one who shared her space. 

Then she wanted to be her best friend. 

Then her confidante. 

But somewhere in the middle of that slow crawl toward intimacy, the lines had bled into something else. It could have started yesterday, or a year ago; she didn't really know. But now that she was aware of it, she couldn’t stop the thoughts from invading her mind.

She had a pathetic, stupid crush on her best friend.

How impossibly, painfully cliché.

Back when they were trainees, the managers had lectured them about "ships" within groups. They explained how popular they were with fans because it made them feel connected to the humans behind the idols—noticing a "romantic" spark and living vicariously through every staged interaction. 

What the company hadn’t prepared them for was the slight, terrifying chance that the feelings the fans were projecting were actually the truth.

It was a tactical oversight, probably because it was considered a career-ending mistake—highly inappropriate and dangerous for the band.

It all felt so out of hand. Yumeko was drowning under the sheer mass of it. 

Only a few days ago, she could kiss Kira’s entire face effortlessly, the gesture light and buoyed by nothing but friendship. Now, she couldn't even look at her without feeling a wave of vertigo.

And now... this.

What was this? 

What were these songs? 

What were those heavy, calculated looks Kira kept giving her while saying things she knew would leave Yumeko breathless?

Was she playing with her?

Yumeko falling for Kira was predictable.

Everyone had a crush on Kira in some capacity; it was part of her gravity. It didn't even come as much of a surprise that it was a girl—that was a spiral for another day. What was statistically impossible, however, was Kira returning those feelings.

Yumeko thought of poor Sayaka, who had been pathetically in love with Kira for years. Kira had never shown a flicker of romantic interest in her—or in anyone else, for that matter. 

Whenever the topic of crushes came up, while Jennifer and Yumeko went into agonizing detail, Kira would just laugh and say nothing. They were used to her mysterious nature, but now that Yumeko was actually looking, she realized she had no idea what Kira even liked. Girls? Boys? Both? Was she even attracted to people at all?

She always seemed so detached from the messiness of it all. As if she were above the fray, too focused on much bigger things to worry about something as meaningless and fleeting as young love.

So It had to be just some sort of game, right?

Kira was strategic. She was the architect of their image. Maybe she was simply playing into the fans' growing obsession with them—feeding the "ship" to keep the engagement high. 

That had to be it. 

Because although everything felt incredibly confusing right now, the one thing Yumeko knew for certain was that Kira would never do anything to risk the group’s reputation.

She was the Leader of LUCKY SINS before she was anything else.

*** 

The morning of the variety shoot felt like standing too close to a high-voltage wire.

The set was a blinding, cheerful white, filled with pastel balloons and a giant digital screen, but for Yumeko, the air was heavy and grey. She sat on her high stool, her hands tucked beneath her thighs to hide the way they were trembling. She was dressed in a soft, oversized red sweater and a tiny little black skirt. 

Every time Kira moved, Yumeko felt it in her teeth.

Kira was sitting only two feet away. She looked impossibly composed in a structured, slate-grey vest, her dark hair swept back with a precision that made her look like a piece of classical sculpture. She was sipping an Americano, her eyes fixed on the script that she wasn’t reading.

Yumeko knew because every few seconds, Kira’s gaze would flicker toward her—not a "Leader” check-in, but a heavy, lingering look that felt like a question.

When their eyes met, the rest of the room—the staff, the cameras, Bora and Jennifer’s chatter—simply vanished. It was a silent, frantic frequency. Kira’s eyes were dark and unreadable.

"Five minutes to air!" a floor manager shouted.

Yumeko looked away first, her heart hammering a violent, rhythmic protest against her ribs. She could feel Kira’s shadow on the floor, stretching toward her. If this was a game, Kira was playing it with a terrifying, heartless level of commitment.

"Positions! We're live in three... two..."

The red light on the camera flickered to life. The MC bounced onto the set with a burst of manufactured energy.

"Welcome back, Sinners! Today we have the queens of the charts, LUCKY SINS, for the Song Association Challenge!"

Yumeko forced a smile, the muscles in her face aching. Beside her, she felt Kira shift, her mask settling into place.

"First word!" the MC shouted, the digital screen flashing a bright, neon pink. "ENVY."

Before anyone could breathe, Kira leaned into her mic.

Her voice dropping into that low, resonant register that made Yumeko’s stomach do a slow, agonizing flip.

She didn't look at the lens. She looked at Yumeko.

“So I-N-V-U ooh-ooh” 

The studio went deathly quiet. It wasn’t just that Kira was singing a song by an icon like Taeyeon; it was the way she sang it. Her English pronunciation was crisp, but her delivery was hauntingly soulful, stripped of the usual "Idol" polish version that fans were getting used to seeing her as. 

Yumeko felt a violent, traitorous thud in her chest. 

"Whoa!" the MC yelled, breaking the trance as the staff behind the cameras started whispering frantically. "Kira! Taeyeon-sunbaenim? The 'Vocal Queen'?”

The energy in the room shifted instantly. The staff were grinning, already imagining the viral clips. To them, it was a legendary variety moment. To Yumeko, it felt like a targeted interrogation.

"That was incredible," the MC continued, leaning in, clearly scrapped the next planned word to follow the vibe. "Since we're on the topic of legends... Kira’s performance has me curious. You girls are at the top of the charts now, but who are the Korean artists that actually inspire you? Who are the ones you listen to when the cameras are off?"

Kira adjusted her earpiece, her thumb grazing the side of her neck in a slow, rhythmic motion. She didn't look away from Yumeko. The "Ice King" smirk was back, but it was softer now, laced with that "vivid imagination" glint.

"For me, it’s always been about the storytellers," Kira said, her voice still carrying that low, post-singing rasp. "Taeyeon-sunbaenim not only knows how to hit the most impressive notes ever known to man, but she also tells a story with her lyrics and performance. I love her recent song ‘Panorama’—it has a very nostalgic feel to it, and the music video is beautiful."

Yumeko felt the weight of Kira’s gaze, that "Iron King" smirk still lingering like a challenge. She cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice from betraying the vertigo she felt.

"I have to agree," Yumeko said, her fingers twisting a loose thread on her sweater. "Kira-unnie actually showed me the ‘Panorama’ video for the first time and I almost cried. But lately, I’ve been stuck on Irene-sunbaenim’s ‘Summer Rain’. It’s... it’s so delicate. Her vocals really get to shine on that track."

“Exactly Unnie! most underrated vocals in Kpop I fear” Bora couldn’t help but interrupt, when Red Velvet was involved you best believe Bora will have an opinion about it.

"Since we're talking about legends," Sayaka added, her voice soft but eager, "I’ve always looked up to IU and Wendy-sunbaenim. Their vocal control is a dream. And since Kira-unnie mentioned Taeyeon, I have to give a shout-out to Tiffany! Her vocal tone is truly unmatched. I love her song ‘Born Again’”..

Riri leaned forward, her eyes bright. "For me, it’s Yves. Her solo work is so impressive—the way she dances and the concepts she chooses are so bold. It makes me want to push myself harder."

"I'm all about the performance too," Mary chimed in with a grin. "BTS, obviously—they’re the blueprint. But recently, I’ve been listening to a lot of RIIZE. Their energy is so fresh; it makes you want to get up and dance immediately."

Jennifer let out a dramatic sigh, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a shark-like smile. "Jennie and Blackpink, of course. They’re the standard. But if we’re talking about discography, EXO is always on my playlist. Their harmonies are basically a religious experience."

Finally, it was Bora’s turn. She bounced in her seat, a predictable sparkle in her eyes. "It’s no surprise to anyone, but Red Velvet is my everything!” She paused, tapping her chin as if weighing her options, before landing on one with an innocent shrug. "A song of theirs I really love and have been playing on repeat is ‘Beg For Me’."

The title hung in the air, sharp and suggestive. In any other context, it wouldn't have even registered. But for Yumeko, the words “Beg For Me” felt like a physical collision. It was too close to her dream—too close to the way Kira had looked at her in the suit, too close to the Mk.gee lyrics.

Involuntarily, Yumeko’s head snapped toward Kira.

At the exact same moment, Kira was already looking at her.

Kira’s expression was raw, her pupils blown wide as the song title seemed to echo the unspoken secrets between them. 

The MC laughed, completely missing the electric fire between the two center stools. "Ooh, ‘Beg For Me’! A bold choice, Bora! Very chic!"

Yumeko tore her eyes away, her face burning a shade of red that no makeup could hide. She felt like she was suffocating in the bright studio lights.

"Okay, okay!" the MC shouted, the screen behind them flickering with a new neon glow. "Let's get back to the game. We've had Envy... now let's see if you can keep that same energy for the next one."

After that moment, Yumeko was no longer capable of concentrating. She had been looking forward to the game, hoping her competitive side would act as a distraction, but her mind had gone entirely blank. She sat like a ghost while the word "DREAM" flashed on the screen, watching the other girls scramble to get their songs out first. She heard them laughing, heard the melodies, but she was trapped in a distorted silence.

It wasn't until the very last round, when the word "CRUSH" appeared, that her heart seemed to seize the controls. An obscure song—something from one of the private playlists Kira had shared with her—surfaced in her mind. It was random, niche, and terrifyingly accurate. It was as if her heart were screaming for the chance to be set free.

"In light of my pathetic crush, I give up my composure..." she began to sing.

Her voice was soft, missing the melody slightly since it had been a while since she’d heard the actual track, but the lyrics were steady. She saw the confused faces of the other members; the MC was squinting, clearly failing to recognize the tune.

"It’s fallin’ by the wayside when you’re around... hallucinate your face when I’m faced with a crowd."

She chose that moment to finally look at the only person she knew would recognize the song. Although Kira’s trained composure was still there, the cracks were undeniable. Yumeko saw the way her lips parted—a deliciously shaken expression that told her the message had been received.

"'Over in No Time' by Babygirl," Yumeko said, her eyes locked on Kira’s for one heartbeat longer than was safe.

She quickly turned back to the MC, flashing the brilliant, practiced smile she had spent years perfecting. "I’m sorry for the random choice. It’s the only one that came to mind right now."

"No worries!" the host chirped, visibly melting under her charm. "The best part of this game is getting to know your individual music tastes!"

"I’m not sure that one was her individual music taste," Jennifer mouthed only for the group to hear, her eyes darting between Yumeko and Kira.

Kira flashed a furious, fiery look her way, which only made Jennifer smirk and wink. 

Jennifer loved getting a reaction out of Kira; she couldn’t blame her. After all, It was intoxicating to see those oceanic eyes suddenly invaded by that unnatural, private fire.

Yumeko unconsciously bit her lip, her skin humming.

"And we are OUT!"

Yumeko blinked, the sudden movement of the crew snapping her back to reality. She hadn’t even realized how long she’d been staring. She only hoped the cameras hadn't caught the moment. 

***

The dressing room was a chaotic sanctuary of hairspray, rolling racks, and the sharp scent of expensive perfume. For Yumeko, however, the room had shrunk down to a single, suffocating point of focus: Kira.

The stylists were surrounding the Leader, nimble fingers working at the buttons of that slate-grey vest. Because of the quick turnaround for the next schedule, they weren't waiting for her to get behind a curtain. Kira stood tall, her chin tilted up as a stylist slid the vest off her shoulders, leaving her in the thin, crisp white shirt that was now partially unbuttoned.

Yumeko tried to look at her phone. She tried to look at the ceiling. But her eyes kept betraying her, tracing the line of Kira’s throat and the way the light caught the sharp ridge of her collarbone.

"So, Yumeko," Jennifer’s voice cut through the trance, dripping with that signature mischief. She was lounging in a makeup chair, watching Yumeko through the vanity mirror. "Since when did our 'Taylor Swift Enthusiast' become such a connoisseur of indie-pop? Babygirl? That’s quite the pivot from 'Love Story,' don't you think?"

Yumeko felt the heat rush to her cheeks. "I just... I found it on a random playlist. The lyrics were catchy."

"Catchy? You looked more like you were reciting a prayer," Jennifer teased, leaning forward. “Is there something our dear Center isn’t telling us?"

Before Yumeko could stammer out a defense, Kira’s voice rang out, low and authoritative.

"Leave her alone, Jennifer," Kira said. She stepped out of the circle of stylists, her shirt still open at the neck, looking entirely too comfortable in her own skin. "At least Yumeko has the courage to explore different genres. Some people in this group haven't changed their 'Top 5' since our trainee years."

Jennifer didn't miss a beat. She let out a dramatic gasp, spinning her chair around to face Kira. She tilted her head, a playful, flirtatious pout forming on her lips. "Oh, is that how it is, Boss? Maybe I should start listening to indie music if it gets me this much of your attention."

Jennifer reached out, trailing a finger along the cuff of Kira’s sleeve, her eyes shimmering with deliberate provocation. "You look so handsome when you’re being protective, you know."

Yumeko felt a sharp, familiar jab of irritation in her chest. She rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt, turning her back on the display to pretend she was interested in a rack of stage outfits. 

The room grew louder as Bora and Mary started arguing over the catering menu, drawing the stylists' attention away. For a fleeting moment, a pocket of silence formed in the corner where Yumeko stood.

Then, she felt it—the sudden shift in the air, the scent of vanilla and coffee closing in.

Kira was behind her. She didn't touch her, but she leaned in close, her breath ghosting against the sensitive shell of Yumeko’s ear.

"Kira-unnie, huh?" Kira whispered.

The low vibration of the name sent a literal shiver down Yumeko’s spine, her breath hitching in her throat. It was the name Yumeko had used during the variety segment.

Yumeko gripped the edge of a sequined jacket on the rack, refusing to lose her ground. She turned her head just enough to meet Kira’s gaze, her eyes sparking with a sudden, desperate defiance.

"If my memory doesn’t fail me, you too were using all sorts of Korean honorifics back there," Yumeko countered, her voice low and steady despite her thudding heart. "It was honestly quite cute, King-nim."

Kira’s eyes narrowed, the Ice King in her visibly bristling at being called cute. She leaned in a fraction closer, her shadow completely enveloping Yumeko. 

She wasn't going to let her have the last word.

"That song," Kira murmured, her voice dropping to a register that was dangerous to Yumeko’s sanity. "You told me it was boring the first time you listened to it. You fell asleep before the bridge."

Yumeko looked at her—really looked at her. She saw the challenge in Kira’s eyes, but she also saw the lingering shock from the lyrics she’d sung on stage.

"I didn't understand the lyrics back then," Yumeko said quietly.

The words hung between them, heavy with double meaning. It was true—Yumeko hadn't been as fluent in English back then. But the real truth was deeper. She hadn't understood the lyrics because she hadn't yet felt the specific, agonizing weight of a crush the song was describing. 

Kira went silent. Her gaze dropped to Yumeko’s mouth, then lingered there for a heartbeat too long before flicking back to her eyes. For a second, the air between them felt stripped of its armor—as if she might actually say something real, something without the safety of a double meaning.

"Kira! Final touch-ups!" a stylist barked from across the room.

The spell shattered. Kira stepped back, the "Ice King" snapping back into place with a sharp, professional rustle of her open shirt. But she didn't take her eyes off Yumeko.

"I need to show you more music then," Kira said, that "vivid imagination" smirk returning like a ghost.

Kira’s ability to shift moods so effortlessly was devastating. 

It made Yumeko feel like a child—someone who couldn’t control the frantic rhythm of her own pulse. Her heart felt like a separate entity, jumping out of her chest whenever it pleased, while Kira remained the older, matured, and perfectly controlled woman in the room.

A cold realization began to sink in as Yumeko watched the stylists swarm her Leader again. She thought about the songs in that private playlist. How many of them were about catastrophic crushes and electric, bone-deep connections? How many of them hummed with this exact brand of longing?

A sharp, jagged jealousy flared in her chest. 

Who was Kira thinking about years ago when she first added those songs? And why was Yumeko only now catching up to the feelings buried in the lyrics?

She felt stupid all of a sudden—like she was late to a conversation everyone else had already finished.

Retreating into the digital shell of her phone, she opened Instagram. She shared the Babygirl track to her story, but this time, the "pathetic crush" energy felt heavier. 

She added a single, small cloud emoji in the corner. It wasn't as transparent as a weeping face, but for anyone smart enough to analyze the mood, the subtext was clear.

Chapter Text

The recording studio was bathed in a dim, moody crimson, the only light reflecting off the glass of the observation booth. Inside the booth, Riri sat in a high-backed wooden chair, dressed in a simple white tank top and black trousers. She looked raw, effortless, and startlingly confident as the low, synth-heavy bassline of her solo cover thrummed through the speakers.

It was the "minimalist-cool" look that LUCKY SINS rarely touched—simple, unpolished, and undeniably handsome.

Kira stood at the center of the small crowd of girls, her arms crossed. She felt a rare, quiet swell of pride. Riri was leaning back, her damp hair pushed away from her face, hitting the syncopated notes with a newfound, sleepy confidence. She followed all of Kira’s suggestions.

Kira had a small, private smile tugging at her mouth. 

She’s finally holding the gaze. She’s finally leading the room.

"She looks so cool," Mary whispered, mesmerized.

"Our Riri is a natural," Bora added, nodding along to the beat.

Kira silently agreed. 

Until Yumeko spoke.

"Wow," Yumeko murmured, leaning closer to the monitor. Her eyes were wide, tracked onto the screen with a strange intensity. "Her voice sounds so... attractive like this. I’ve always loved it when a woman has a naturally low tone. It’s so magnetic."

The small smile on Kira’s face vanished.

"Right?" Yumeko continued, oblivious to the sudden drop in temperature beside her. She turned slightly toward Bora, her eyes bright. "It reminds me of Taylor. She has such a dangerous low range in her newer albums. It’s that same kind of... heavy, velvet feeling."

"Oh! Like Seulgi-unnie!" Bora chirped, giggling as she nudged Yumeko. "That dark vocal color that makes you feel like you're being told a secret."

The two of them laughed, a bright, effortless sound that grated against Kira’s nerves like jagged glass. To them, it was just a conversation about music. 

To Kira, it was a displacement.

Attractive. Magnetic. Dangerous.

It wasn't just that Yumeko was complimenting someone else. It was that she was comparing Riri to the icons she obsessed over. And more importantly that Yumeko was focusing her compliment towards Riri’s voice which felt to Kira, the Main Vocalist, like a low blow. 

Kira’s knuckles turned white against her elbows. She felt a jagged, ugly spark of heat in her chest—something impulsive and hot that she didn't know how to categorize. 

But seeing Yumeko look at her sister with that specific, heavy-lidded admiration made the "Ice King" feel suddenly, devastatingly small.

"The pitch is flat in the second verse," Kira said.

Her voice was low, cutting through the laughter like a sheet of ice. The booth went deathly silent. Yumeko blinked, turning to look at Kira with a startled, confused expression.

"What?" Yumeko asked softly. "I thought she sounded incredible."

"She’s over-emphasizing the breathiness to compensate for a lack of support," Kira said, her eyes fixed on the monitor, refusing to look at Yumeko. "It’s a cheap trick. It’s amateur."

Jennifer, who had been leaning against the back wall with a lollipop in her mouth, let out a slow, shark-like hum. She looked at Kira’s rigid jaw and then at the way Yumeko’s smile had completely died.

"Amateur?" Jennifer drawled, her voice dripping with lethal irony. "I don't know, Boss. I think you’re just upset, you're not the only Timurov capable of mastering that attractive, chill type of confidence."

"Don’t you have something better to do, Jennifer?" Kira’s voice was like a low-frequency hum, dangerous and vibrating with restrained heat. "Shouldn’t you be preparing to film your solo video too? Or is the schedule just a suggestion to you today?"

Jennifer didn't flinch. She just rolled the lollipop to the other side of her mouth, her eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of a hunter who had finally drawn blood.

"As much as I like seeing you mad, Kir, I am actually late for that," Jennifer drawled, pushing off the wall with a slow, feline grace. She paused at the door, glancing back at the monitor where Riri was still readjusting her position in the chair. "I guess I just got distracted by your handsome little sister. It’s a family trait, I suppose.” She winked at Yumeko—a deliberate, jagged little needle—and vanished into the hallway.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Yumeko stood frozen, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her eyes searching Kira’s profile.

"I'm going to the practice room," Kira announced.

She didn't check the levels on the soundboard. She didn't offer Riri a "good job" over the intercom. She just swung her leather jacket over her shoulder, the silver hardware clashing like armor, and strode out of the booth without a second glance.

The heavy acoustic door thudded shut behind her, leaving Yumeko standing in the dim red light.

*** 

The air in the practice room was thick, humid, and smelled faintly of floor wax and exertion. The mirrors were beginning to fog at the edges. In the center of the vast, polished floor, Kira was a blur of controlled violence.

She wasn't dancing. She was mid-set of a grueling core circuit, her body suspended in a high plank that shifted into rapid, explosive mountain climbers. She wasn't wearing her leather jacket or her "Prince" vest. She was in nothing but a black athletic sports bra and low-slung spandex shorts.

Yumeko froze. Her heart didn't just skip a beat; it suffered a full-scale cardiac arrest.

She had seen Kira in the dorms, of course. She’d seen her in pajamas and oversized tees. But she had never seen her like this—unfiltered, raw, and glistening with a layer of sweat that caught the harsh overhead LEDs. Kira’s body was a map of disciplined labor. The sharp, defined cut of her obliques, the ripple of muscle across her stomach with every movement, and the way her shoulders stayed broad and rock-steady even as she pushed herself to the brink of exhaustion.

The "Logistical Machine" wasn't just a metaphor. Standing there, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Kira’s back, Yumeko realized the "Ice King" was built, inch by inch, through this kind of solitary ritual.

Kira finally collapsed into a seated stretch, her chest heaving, her dark hair plastered to her neck. She grabbed a white towel from the floor, wiping the sweat from her eyes before she finally noticed Yumeko standing by the door.

Kira didn't look away. She didn't reach for a shirt to cover herself. She just sat there, her long legs stretched out, watching Yumeko with a gaze that was still vibrating from the adrenaline of the workout.

"The stylists," Yumeko managed to say, her voice sounding thin and foreign to her own ears. "They’re ready. For the Monster outfits. We have to... we have to try them on for the final adjustments."

Kira didn't move for a long second. The workout had clearly scrubbed the sharpest edges of her anger away, leaving behind a cold, quiet lucidity. She took a slow sip from her water bottle, her throat moving in a way that made Yumeko’s mouth go completely dry.

"Right," Kira said, her voice raspy from the exertion. She stood up, the movement fluid and predatory. She grabbed a discarded hoodie from the bench but didn't put it on yet, draped it over her shoulder instead. "The fitting."

She walked toward the door, stopping just inches from Yumeko. Up close, the heat radiating off her skin was overwhelming.

"I'll take a quick shower," Kira murmured, her tone distant but no longer icy. "Meet me in twenty minutes. We’ll go watch Jennifer film her solo while we wait for the stylists to call us in."

She gave Yumeko a single, curt nod—a dismissal that felt like a challenge—and disappeared into the hallway toward the private showers.

Yumeko stayed in the empty practice room for a full minute, staring at the spot on the floor where Kira’s sweat had left a mark. She felt dizzy. 

***

Jennifer was center stage, and she looked like a high-fashion riot. She was wearing a micro-mini pleated skirt in midnight navy, held up by a heavy tactical belt with silver hardware. Her top was a cropped, long-sleeved athletic mesh that clung to her like a second skin, layered over a structured black sports bra. Her hair was pulled into a high, whip-like ponytail that snapped with every turn of her head. It was "sporty sexy"—a dark, distorted version of a cheerleader that felt more like a warning than a welcome.

She was moving with a jagged, rhythmic confidence, her boots stomping against the plexiglass floor as the bass of her solo track thrummed through the room.

And Kira was watching. Intensively.

Kira stood in the wings, her arms crossed. She wasn't just checking the monitor for technical errors; she was tracking the sharp line of Jennifer’s waist and the way the mesh fabric caught the strobe lights. It was a cold, calculated stare—a deliberate, public execution of Yumeko’s sanity.

Jennifer, sensing the heavy weight of the Leader’s gaze, weaponized the aesthetic. During a break in the choreography, she didn't just lean back—she dropped into a low, athletic crouch, her eyes finding Kira’s in the dark. She flashed a slow, wicked grin and wiped a bead of sweat from her temple, her movements becoming even more fluid, even more scandalous in that stupidly short skirt.

Yumeko felt like she was being punished.

She was standing three feet behind Kira, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands. She was used to the jealousy by now, but this time it was more physical. 

Her mind, fueled by the image of Kira’s sweaty, muscled body from the practice room, began to attack her with high-definition intrusive thoughts.

She saw Jennifer—in that mesh top and pleated skirt—climbing into Kira’s lap in the back of the darkened van. She saw Kira’s large, calloused hands gripping that tactical belt, pulling Jennifer closer until there was no air left between them. She saw them together in a gym at 3:00 AM, the only two people left in the building, feeding off each other’s competitive, flirty energy.

It was too much.

"She’s really hitting the marks today," Kira murmured.

She didn't turn around. Her voice was steady, but there was a sharp, vengeful edge to it—a direct retaliation for every "attractive" comment Yumeko had made about Riri.

"Don't you think, Yumeko?" Kira continued, her gaze never leaving Jennifer’s swaying form. "The way she uses her body... It's very confident. It’s the kind of energy you can’t fake."

Yumeko felt a lump form in her throat, thick and bitter. She wanted to scream. She wanted to grab Kira’s shoulders and force her to look at her. 

Instead, she just stood there, silently.

"She looks... great," Yumeko managed to choke out, her voice barely a whisper.

"Kira! Yumeko! We're ready for the Monster unit fitting!" a stylist called out from the hallway.

The spell of the performance broke. Kira finally turned, her eyes landing on Yumeko’s pale, strained face. 

***

The atmosphere in the dressing room was thick with the scent of synthetic fabric and the sharp, metallic tang of new hardware. For once, the constant chatter of the stylists felt like white noise to Kira.

She stood in front of the primary mirror, adjusting the high collar of her cropped leather racing jacket. She could see the familiar, disciplined lines of her own reflection: the lethal midriff she’d spent hours honing in the practice room, the high-waisted trousers that made her look every bit the untouchable Leader the fans adored. It was a costume she knew how to inhabit.

Then, the curtain behind her slid open.

Kira didn't turn around immediately. She watched the reflection of the girl stepping into the light, and for the first time in years, the "Logistical Machine" inside her suffered a total system failure.

Yumeko stepped into the frame, and Kira felt a hot, shameful surge of adrenaline hit the back of her throat. This wasn't the girl she was used to protecting. 

She was wearing high-waisted, form-fitting black shorts accented by a thick, waist-cinching panel of stacked buckles and leather straps. Above the exposed midriff, she wore a structured black corset-style top with intricate lace-up detailing. A black velvet and beaded choker sat high on her neck. It was a masterpiece of dark texture—velvet, leather, lace, and metal, all perfectly constructed, yet shockingly revealing.

Kira had always heard the "doll-like" comments from staff and fans, usually dismissing them as generic idol flattery. But looking at Yumeko now, encased in this structured darkness, she realized the terrifying, clinical truth of it. 

Yumeko’s proportions were... insane. 

The stacked buckles on her waist highlighted a curvature Kira had never allowed herself to process, and the intricate lacing on the corset made her hands itch.

Kira had long ago accepted her attraction to women as a quiet, manageable fact. And although she wasn’t ashamed to look at beautiful women, she didn’t allow herself to look at her members with those appreciative eyes; it was a professional boundary, a survival instinct. 

Jennifer was her only outlet because Jennifer had no boundaries to begin with. They both enjoyed admiring each other’s beauties from time to time and Kira was comfortable with that. 

But she had never allowed herself to look at Yumeko that way.

But as Yumeko stepped closer, her shoulder almost brushing Kira’s in the reflection, the thoughts in Kira’s mind turned visceral. Sinful.

She found herself tracing the shadow of the velvet choker, wondering how many places she would like to mark with her lips. She wanted to know if that intricate lacing felt as dangerous to touch as it looked. 

"Kira?" Yumeko whispered, her voice trembling. She looked up at Kira through the mirror, her eyes wide and searching. "Do I... do I look okay? It feels like too much. I feel like... a different person."

Kira didn't move. She couldn't. If she shifted even an inch, she feared she might actually reach out and slide her hand under that stacked tactical panel just to see the contrast of her own skin against the buckles. She forced her hands to stay dead at her sides, her knuckles turning white with the effort of not reaching for the exposed skin of Yumeko’s chest.

"You look..." Kira’s voice was a low, textured rasp she barely recognized. 

She stopped, the words catching in her throat as her gaze traced the line where the structured velvet met Yumeko’s skin. The silence in the dressing room stretched, becoming heavy and pressurized, until the only sound was the distant hum of the building's ventilation.

Kira felt the familiar, cold panic of losing her grip. Her pulse was a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She was frustrated—furious, even—that a collection of lace and buckles could dismantle her years of discipline in a matter of seconds.

With a visible effort, Kira forced her shoulders to drop. 

She leaned in, not to touch, but to close the gap just enough so that her scent—soap, rain, and a hint of leather—overshadowed the room’s cloying perfume.

"You look dangerous, Yumeko," Kira finally murmured, her voice regaining its steady, clinical edge, though the rawness still bled through the periphery. "Try not to let it go to your head."

She gave a short, curt nod—a dismissal that was supposed to be professional—and turned toward the door with her usual predatory grace. But the damage was already done.

Yumeko remained frozen in front of the mirror, her breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches. She was shaking, her knees feeling like they might buckle under the weight of the air Kira had left behind. 

She had seen it. 

For a split second, the "Ice King" mask hadn't just cracked; it had dissolved, revealing an unmistakable, primal hunger that Yumeko hadn't known Kira was capable of.

It was terrifying. It was intoxicating.

Yumeko had seen Jennifer throw herself at Kira in ways that should have been obscene, yet Kira had always met those advances with a bored, indulgent smirk. 

But this?

The way Kira had looked at her—as if she wanted to take her apart and put her back together—made Yumeko feel entirely naked despite the structured layers of her outfit.

It didn’t help that Kira looked like a gothic master, someone who found a dark, methodical pleasure in torture. And standing there, not being kissed, not being touched, felt like punishment.

A hot, embarrassing flush crept up Yumeko’s neck as she felt the traitorous reaction between her legs. Her skin felt too tight, her nerves frayed. She squeezed her eyes shut, leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the vanity, and offered a silent, desperate prayer to whatever gods were listening that the stylists would let her undress herself later. 

Chapter Text

2:15 AM

The dorm was held in a fragile, blue-tinted silence. The only sound was the low, rhythmic hum of the electric kettle in the kitchen.

Kira was leaning against the marble counter, her back to the doorway. She was a shadow in the dim light, dressed down in a pair of oversized black sweats and a heavy grey hoodie, the hood pushed back to reveal her messy, post-practice hair. Her silver-rimmed glasses caught the faint glow of the microwave clock. 

One earbud was tucked into her ear, her head swaying almost imperceptibly to a bassline only she could hear.

"Kira? What are you doing up?"

Kira didn't flinch, but her shoulders tightened for a fraction of a second before she slowly turned around.

Yumeko was standing by the fridge, looking soft and dangerously domestic in a pair of tiny matching shorts and a fitted white shirt covered in a pattern of faded red hearts. Her hair was down, spilling over her shoulders, and her eyes were still heavy with a sleep that wouldn't come.

Kira didn't answer. She didn't offer a logistical excuse or a reminder about tomorrow's call time. Instead, she straightened up and stepped into Yumeko’s space, her movements slow and deliberate.

Yumeko’s breath hitched as Kira stopped just inches away. Without a word, Kira reached out and tucked the spare earbud into Yumeko’s ear. Her cold fingers lingered for a second too long against Yumeko’s skin, grazing the shell of her ear before dropping away.

The smooth, walking bassline of The Internet’s “Special Affair” filled the silence.

“So you should come here, sit your ass on this throne”

Kira’s lips quirked into a lazy, lopsided smile—the kind of expression she usually reserved for the high-octane adrenaline of a stage performance, not a silent kitchen at 3:00 AM. It was a dark, amused flicker of a look that suggested she knew exactly how well the timing of the song was working in her favor.

“I was just waiting for my tea,” Kira said, her voice dropping into a low, hummed vibration.

She didn't pull her hand back after tucking in the earbud. Instead, her fingers wandered downward, distractedly playing with the hem of Yumeko’s fitted shirt, her knuckles occasionally brushing against the soft skin of Yumeko's waist. 

“Aren’t you cold?” Kira murmured, her gaze trailing over the tiny red hearts on Yumeko's chest before settling on the exposed length of her legs. “I’m in a hoodie and sweats, and you’re in… those shorts.”

Yumeko felt her pulse spike at the touch. She looked up at Kira, and for a second, she couldn't breathe. Kira looked incredibly attractive like this—swallowed by the oversized grey fabric, her glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of her nose, looking like a private version of herself that the cameras never got to see. Combined with the sensual, inviting rhythm of the song she was listening to.

Yumeko needed a distraction. She needed to break the magnetic pull of Kira’s thumb snagging on the cotton of her shirt.

"I'm fine," Yumeko whispered, her voice sounding far more breathless than she intended. She scrambled for any topic that wasn't the heat radiating between them. "You know… you- You were... you were watching Jennifer a lot during her solo filming.” 

The jealousy was a transparent shield, a weak attempt to remind Kira (and herself) of the professional boundaries they usually lived by.

Kira’s hand stilled against the hem of the shirt. She didn't pull away, but the lazy smile deepened, turning into something more knowing. Normally, she would have offered a sharp, logical explanation about performance monitoring. But tonight, with the bassline thumping in their ears and the smell of vanilla and rain between them, she didn't bother with the lie.

"Was I?" Kira asked, her eyes locking onto Yumeko's with a renewed, slow-burning intensity. "Maybe I was just practicing. It’s a useful skill for tomorrow, don't you think? Learning how to look at someone you’re not allowed to touch."

She leaned in just an inch closer, her nose brushing against Yumeko’s temple, the oversized sleeve of her hoodie grazing Yumeko's bare arm.

"But I think we both know," Kira breathed, her voice a textured rasp against the music, "that Jennifer isn't the one making me lose my focus tonight." 

Yumeko was pinned under the weight of Kira’s gaze, her throat tight and her heart hammering against the thin cotton of her heart-patterned shirt. She was too stunned to speak, her mind a frantic loop of the lyrics and the way Kira’s thumb was still hooked into the hem of her shirt.

Kira, seeing the exact moment Yumeko’s composure shattered, didn't pull back. Instead, she leaned into the silence, her smile turning into something dark and knowing. 

Without breaking eye contact, Kira reached down and grabbed the hem of her oversized grey hoodie. In one fluid, athletic motion, she pulled it over her head. The movement forced her shoulders to broaden, her biceps flexing and pulling tight against the thin, black ribbed tank top she wore underneath.

Yumeko’s breath hitched and she had to physically hold herself back not to actually make a more obscene sound at the view. 

Seeing Kira like this—the sharp, defined lines of her arms and the strength of her shoulders suddenly exposed in the dim light—was too much. Her knees actually buckled, a sudden, traitorous wobble that made her stumble forward.

Kira’s hands were there in a heartbeat.

She caught Yumeko by the waist, her large, warm palms splaying across the small red hearts on Yumeko’s hips. The touch was firm, grounding, and absolutely devastating.

“Woah,” Kira murmured, her voice a low, textured vibration that rumbled against Yumeko’s chest. “Sleepy much?”

Kira knew damn well that sleep had nothing to do with why Yumeko was visibly shaking in her grip. 

She stayed there for a beat longer than necessary, her fingers pressing into the soft fabric of Yumeko's shorts, her eyes tracking the way Yumeko’s pulse was jumping in her neck.

But Kira wasn't done. 

She didn't just hand the hoodie over. She held it open, her eyes locking onto Yumeko’s with a sudden, sharp intensity. She didn't say a word, but her gaze dropped to Yumeko’s hands and then flicked upward, a clear, silent command: Arms up.

Yumeko felt a jolt of heat race through her entire body. She understood immediately. Without a second of hesitation, she obeyed, lifting her arms and exposing the soft line of her waist as she surrendered to the gaze. She felt a sickeningly sweet rush of pleasure in that moment—the simple act of being obedient under Kira’s silent authority felt more intimate than any touch they’d shared.

Kira slid the hoodie over Yumeko’s head, her knuckles grazing Yumeko’s chin and ears as the heavy fabric swallowed her. The movement was slow, deliberate, as if Kira were marking her territory with every inch of grey cotton.

“We wouldn’t want you to get sick right before our big shooting tomorrow, would we?” Kira asked. Her voice was back to its smooth, controlled default, but her eyes remained dark, fixed on Yumeko’s mouth.

Before Yumeko could find her voice, Kira reached up and gently plucked the earbud from Yumeko’s ear. The music cut out, replaced by the sudden, deafening silence of the kitchen. Kira picked up her steaming teacup, gave Yumeko one last, unreadable look, and turned to walk toward her room.

“Goodnight, Yumeko,” she called over her shoulder, the door clicking shut behind her.

Yumeko was left standing alone in the dark, panting as if she’d just run a marathon. She was shaking, her skin buzzing where Kira’s hands had been. She pulled the hoodie tighter around herself, burying her face in the high collar.

It smelled exactly like Kira—rain, clean soap, and that sharp, addictive edge of leather.

***

The morning air in the van was quiet, but the atmosphere was thick with a new, unspoken frequency.

Yumeko was tucked into the corner seat, practically disappearing into the oversized grey hoodie. The sleeves were so long they swallowed her hands entirely, leaving only her fingertips peeking out as she gripped her iced Americano. She looked soft, overwhelmed by the fabric, and utterly marked.

The other members of LUCKY SINS weren't blind.

Jennifer, usually the first to make a sharp-tongued comment, actually stayed silent for once. She swapped a long, knowing look with Riri, her eyebrows ticking upward as she took in the familiar hoodie. They all knew the hoodie; it was Kira’s "protection armor," the one she wore when she wanted to be left alone.

Seeing it on the Yumeko wasn’t exactly surprising yet it still felt like a statement.

Kira, however, seemed entirely unbothered by the clear display of ownership. She was leaning back in the front seat, her long legs stretched out, tapping a rhythm against her knee as she reviewed the storyboard on her tablet. She was riding a strange, calm high from the night before—a residual buzz of power that made her usual coldness feel more like a satisfied simmer.

She caught Yumeko’s eye in the rearview mirror and didn't look away. Instead, she gave a small, lazy smirk. Yumeko looked good in her clothes—the contrast of the massive hoodie against her delicate frame was a visual Kira found herself wanting to memorize.

*** 

The cathedral set was a sensory overload—thick artificial fog, the smell of burnt wax, and the relentless thrum of the "Monster" bassline.

Kira was a force of nature. As the main dancer, she moved with a predatory, angular precision that made the gothic armor of her racing jacket look like a second skin. But today, she was glitching. 

Every time the choreography required a rotation, Kira’s eyes didn't find her mark on the floor; they found the line of Yumeko’s throat, the silver buckles cinching her waist, and the way the lace sleeves of the Irene-inspired bolero clung to her pale arms.

It was distracting. It was dangerous. And Kira was starting to lose her patience with her own lack of control.

"Yumeko," Kira snapped during a transition. It wasn't her usual supportive tone; it was that low, commanding rasp. "Focus. Your lines are soft. Concentrate on the beat, not the floor."

The tone sent a lightning bolt of heat straight through Yumeko’s core. She looked up, her eyes wide and glassy, her chest heaving under the structured corset.

She looked like she was one more command away from needing a cold shower right there in the middle of the cathedral.

Kira saw it—the way Yumeko’s hands were trembling against the straps of her shorts, the way she was visually unraveling under Kira’s professional scrutiny. 

Kira raised a single hand, a silent, absolute command to the technical director.

"We're taking fifteen," Kira announced, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. She didn't look at the stylists or the other members. "Yumeko’s earpiece is acting up. I’ll help her fix it."

Before anyone could offer a technician, Kira’s hand—still clad in a dark, fingerless glove—snaked around Yumeko’s wrist. The grip wasn't painful, but it was possessive. She led Yumeko off the raised stage, through the maze of cables and lighting rigs, and straight into the private, tiled silence of the dressing room bathroom.

The door clicked shut, locking out the noise of the set.

Kira didn't let go of her wrist. She backed Yumeko against the cold marble of the sink, the contrast between the freezing stone and the heat radiating from Kira’s leather jacket making Yumeko gasp.

Kira leaned in, her shadows stretching long against the fluorescent lights—her eyes boring into Yumeko’s with a frustrated, hungry intensity.

"What is going on?" Kira demanded, her voice a low, dangerous rasp. "You're shaking so hard the camera is picking it up. You're ruining the take, Yumeko."

Yumeko felt the cool marble of the sink pressing into her lower back, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from Kira’s body. Her chest was heaving under the structured lace of her corset

.

"I... I feel like I can't breathe," Yumeko managed to choke out. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Every breath felt like she was inhaling Kira’s presence, filling her lungs with the very thing that was making her unravel.

Kira’s expression softened for a fraction of a second, the mark slipping just enough to show a flicker of genuine concern. Her gaze dropped to the intricate lacing of Yumeko’s top, her gloved hand moving instinctively toward the neckline.

"Is it the outfit? Is it too tight?" Kira asked, her voice dropping an octave. She stepped closer, her fingers reaching out to see if she could loosen the structural lace or adjust the velvet choker. "Let me see if I can—"

Yumeko’s eyes widened, a flash of pure, electric panic crossing her face. Before Kira’s hand could make contact with the lace, Yumeko surged backward, her boots scuffing against the tiles as she practically threw herself away from the sink.

"No!" she gasped, her voice sounding sharp and frantic in the quiet bathroom. "It’s not that. Don't touch it."

She knew that if Kira’s fingers brushed against her right now—if those dark, fingerless gloves made contact with the skin above her corset—she would actually combust. 

"I’m just nervous, that’s all," Yumeko lied, her voice trembling as she avoided Kira’s predatory gaze. "I don’t want to mess up the choreo. You look... you look so in control. You look perfect. And I look like a mess."

Kira’s hand remained suspended in the fluorescent light for a heartbeat too long before she slowly curled her fingers into a fist and dropped her arm to her side. She didn't just regain her composure; she forced it back into place with an almost brutal efficiency.

She took a slow, deep breath, the leather of her racing jacket creaking in the silence of the bathroom.

"If you're a mess, then the whole concept is a mess," Kira said, her voice dropping back into that steady, detached register. She wouldn't look at the way Yumeko’s chest was still heaving. "But we don’t have time for that today."

She stepped back, creating a deliberate, cold distance between them that felt like a physical slap after the heat of the kitchen. 

"Drink some water," Kira commanded, already turning toward the door. "Fix your breathing. I’ll tell the director we’re ready in five minutes. And Yumeko?"

She paused with her hand on the door handle, looking back over her shoulder. The hunger was still there, buried deep under layers of administrative steel, but she spoke as if they were discussing a choreography tweak.

"Don't let the nerves show in your eyes. You're an idol. Act like it."

The door clicked shut, leaving Yumeko alone with the hum of the fan and the terrifying realization that Kira was better at this game than she was. Kira could flip the switch. Kira could look at her like she wanted to consume her at 3:00 AM and then lecture her on professionalism at 4:00 PM.

Yumeko leaned over the sink, splashing cold water on her face, careful not to ruin the dark, smudge-heavy makeup. She could still feel the phantom weight of the hoodie on her shoulders and the ghost of Kira’s hands on her waist.

*** 

The choreography for Monster was a departure from everything LUCKY SINS had done before. It wasn't just about synchronization; it was about a predatory, asymmetrical connection. It was a dance of cat and mouse, and today, Kira was playing the cat with a terrifying, clinical precision.

As the first distorted bass hit, Kira was positioned directly behind Yumeko. The top-down lighting caught the broad line of Kira’s shoulders in the cropped leather jacket, casting a sharp shadow that completely swallowed Yumeko’s smaller frame.

Kira didn’t touch her yet. She moved her gloved hands in a jagged, robotic sequence around Yumeko’s head, her fingers snapping inches from the velvet choker. It was a display of pure spatial dominance. Yumeko reacted to every phantom movement as if she were tethered to Kira’s fingertips, her head tilting back at a sharp, vulnerable angle that exposed the pale line of her throat to the overhead cameras.

In the monitor, it looked like Yumeko had no will of her own. She was a doll being animated by the sheer gravitational pull of the woman standing behind her.

When the director finally called "That’s a wrap," the silence in the studio was heavy. The crew moved tentatively, as if they were afraid to break the spell.

Kira didn't pull her hand away from Yumeko’s thigh immediately. She let her thumb linger on Yumeko’s jaw, her own breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts that betrayed her. 

*** 

Yumeko was pressed as far into the corner of the backseat as the plastic molding would allow. She felt utterly depleted—a hollowed-out version of herself. The adrenaline that had carried her through the rest of filming evaporated, leaving behind a cold, shaky exhaustion.

She felt defeated. 

She felt exposed, as if the camera hadn't just captured a dance, but had stripped her soul bare for the entire crew to see. 

Every time the van hit a bump, she felt the phantom weight of Kira’s gloved hand on her thigh, and it made her stomach twist with a mix of longing and shame.

She wanted to disappear into the velvet choker still tight around her neck.

She kept going back to the bathroom earlier. The way Kira had looked so distant so detached. It made Yumeko feel so alone in whatever the hell was happening.

When did everything got so out of her hands? 

Three seats ahead, Kira was staring at her own reflection in the dark glass, her jaw tight. Her usual armor felt heavy and rusted.

She felt a gnawing guilt. 

She had prided herself on being the “logical” one, the one who kept the boundaries of LUCKY SINS intact. The one who had to constantly remind the girls how to separate the professional part of their job with their personal lives. 

But today, she had let her own selfish, predatory desires drive the production. 

She hadn't just directed Yumeko; she had consumed her. She saw the way Yumeko had stumbled in the bathroom, the way she had looked at the floor after the final "Cut," and Kira knew she had left a mess behind. 

She had used a professional setting to indulge in a private fantasy, and now the air between them was ruined.

She wanted to reach back and apologize, but she didn't even know what she was apologizing for—the touch, or the fact that she hadn't wanted to stop?

The rest of the girls weren't oblivious. The silence in the van was too heavy, too "pregnant" with things that shouldn't exist between members.

When they finally climbed out at the dorms, Mary caught Sayaka’s eye. They watched Yumeko shuffle toward her room without a word, still wrapped in the remnants of the gothic lace, while Kira stood by the kitchen counter, staring at the electric kettle as if it were a complex mathematical problem.

Twenty minutes later, the common area was transformed. Jennifer had dragged every blanket and pillow in the dorm into a massive pile in the center of the living room. Riri was aggressively popping corn, and Bora had already pulled up a mindless, brightly colored variety show on the big screen.

"Okay, nobody goes to bed!" Jennifer announced, her voice booming through the hallway, pointedly aimed at Yumeko’s closed door. "It’s a 'LUCKY SINS' mandatory decompression night. Sweatpants only. No makeup. If I see a single silver buckle, I’m throwing it off the balcony."

Kira looked up from the kitchen, her eyes tired. She saw what they were doing. They were trying to build a bridge back to "normal."

"Come on, Kira," Riri said, throwing a pillow at Kira’s chest. "Sit. We’re watching The Great Baking Challenge. No thinking allowed."

She knew her sister. She needed this. 

Slowly, the bedroom doors creaked open. Yumeko emerged, now dressed in a pair of oversized, fuzzy pink pajamas—the complete opposite of the "Monster" lace. She looked small and fragile as she sat on the edge of the blanket pile, as far from Kira as possible.

Kira took her place on the opposite side, leaning against the sofa. For the first hour, they didn't look at each other. They focused on the screen, on Jennifer’s loud commentary, and on the mundane comfort of shared snacks.

But as the night wore on and the others began to doze off, the distance felt less like a barrier and more like a safety net.

The group decompression had worked, but only on the surface. 

By 3:00 AM, the living room was a graveyard of pillows and half-empty popcorn bowls. 

Yumeko lay in her bed, the glow of her phone screen the only light in the room. She felt brittle. The "Monster" performance was still looping in her head—the feeling of Kira’s gloved hand, the scent of leather, and that terrifying moment of surrender.

She opened Instagram, her thumb hovering over her story. She needed to put something into the void, a signal that she was still awake, still haunted. She uploaded a grainy, blurred photo of the moon she’d taken through the van window earlier—cold, distant, and pale.

For the music, she chose "3AM" by Rosé. The timing was too perfect; the digital clock on her nightstand flickered to 3:10 AM. 

“I need you really, really that bad”

It was Yumeko’s pathetic crush and Rosé’s beautiful vocals against the world right now.

“You’re everything I need, and It’s so dumb.  And even when you’re putting me through hell. You’re not like anyone else” 

Before she locked her phone, she checked her feed. Her heart skipped a beat.

Kira had posted five minutes ago.

It was a stark, high-contrast photo of her kitchen counter: a steaming mug of black coffee and an open book of poetry, the pages shadowed. No caption. Just "Landfill" by Daughter.

Yumeko felt a lump form in her throat as those particular lyrics played through her speakers.

“Cause this is torturous electricity between both of us and this is dangerous cause I want you so much” 

It was a song about emotional wreckage and the fear of being consumed. It was a confession of guilt. Kira wasn't detached; she was drowning in the same aftermath, she was just better at hiding it than Yumeko.

The anger Yumeko had been nursing—the frustration that Kira could just "turn off" whatever was going on between them and go back to being a leader—began to shift. 

Kira wasn't fine. She was just better at building walls.

Yumeko decided to be the brave one. If they were going to communicate through screens and speakers, she would be the one to break the frequency. 

She opened their private chat, her fingers trembling as she typed. Texting felt like a safety barrier—a way to touch without the risk of actual combustion.

Yumeko [3:14 AM]: next time, don't let me publicly suggest a dance cover. what were you thinking, letting the least competent dancer of the group call the shots? 

She hit send and dropped the phone onto her chest, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the "read" receipt.

Three floors down the hall, Kira’s phone buzzed against the marble counter. She picked it up, the light reflecting off her glasses. When she saw the message, she let out a long, ragged breath she’d been holding since the bathroom encounter.

Kira [3:16 AM]: It honestly didn’t click for me until I saw you in that outfit... dancing has always come naturally to me, but I was curious to see how we’d move together. I honestly didn't think the "choreography" was going to be the easy part.

Yumeko [3:17 AM]: and the hard part? was that the bathroom lecture? you looked like you were ready to fire me for breathing wrong or something

The silence lasted for a full minute. Yumeko could almost picture Kira sitting on her kitchen stool, her silver-rimmed glasses sliding down her nose, staring at the screen.

Kira [3:19 AM]: I wasn't mad at you, Yumeko. I was just... frustrated. The lighting was too bright. The set was too small. 

Yumeko [3:20 AM]: right… the lights. 

Kira [3:20 AM]: Are you still wearing it? 

Kira [3:20] The hoodie.

Yumeko stared at the message, her heart doing a slow, painful roll. She adjusted the oversized grey sleeve, the fabric still warm from her own skin but smelling undeniably like Kira. She felt a sudden, sharp spike of insecurity—a flashback to the kitchen earlier, Kira standing too close in that black tank top.

yumeko [3:23 AM]: maybe... why? u want it back?

Kira [3:24 AM]: No. I just wanted to know if you were still wearing in it.

Kira [3:25 AM]: Since you’re clearly not sleeping, listen to this. It reminded me of what you said to me once about being “too” clean.

[Kira sent a link: Crush - Ethel Cain]

Yumeko clicked the link. She went silent for five minutes. As the hazy, distorted guitar filled her ears, her mind betrayed her. 

She didn't see the "Ice King" in a sharp blazer; she saw the Kira from the kitchen, the one who had flexed her arms to pull that hoodie off. She pictured Kira in a garage, sweat making that black tank top cling to her abs, grease smudged on her jaw, her hands dirty and focused. 

“There’s just something about you, baby”

She imagined being able to call Kira “baby” casually like that.

God, she couldn’t trust her mind anymore. 

Yumeko [3:30 AM]: omg. is this how my girl taylor felt when she got sent that song? lol. r u trying to tell me u wanna get ur hands dirty?.

Down in the kitchen, Kira didn't laugh this time. She looked at the text, the humor feeling like a thin veil she didn't want to wear anymore. 

Kira [3:32 AM]: Maybe I do. Being "clean" is a lie we tell the cameras. 

Yumeko [3:33 AM]: well… you definitely have the arms for hard labor.

Yumeko’s breath hitched. Memories of Kira’s arms and hands invading her head once again. 

The air in Yumeko’s room felt thin, the hazy, low-fi distortion of Crush still bleeding through her earbuds. She stared at her own text—the comment about Kira’s arms—and felt a sudden, dizzying heat. It was one thing to think it; it was another to send it into the 3:00 AM void where Kira was waiting.

Down in the kitchen, Kira stared at the screen. After the day she’s had, seeing Yumeko’s messy, uncapitalized admission made her grip the edge of the marble counter until her knuckles turned white. The hunger easily awakened again.

Kira [3:34 AM]: Yeah? Maybe I’ve spent too much time in a dance studio and not enough time actually doing what that song is about.

Yumeko swallowed hard. Well, fuck. She could almost hear that devastating low tone through that simple “yeah?”. 

Yumeko [3:35 AM]: dont "yeah?" me. u know exactly what u were doing sending that song.

yumeko [3:35 AM]: also... if u wanted to do what that song is about u'd have to stop being such a control freak for five seconds. can the king even handle having grease on her hands? or is that too "unprofessional" for u?

Down in the kitchen, Kira felt the jab. Yumeko was testing the walls, seeing how much of the "professional" was left after the day they’d had. Kira looked at her reflection in the dark window—the white tank top, the messy hair, the exhaustion. 

Kira [3:38 AM]: I think we both found out today that I’m not as controlled as I pretend to be.

Kira [3:38 AM]: I’m making more tea. Do you want some? Or are you just going to stay up there hiding in my clothes?

Yumeko felt a jolt of electricity go straight to her spine. It wasn't an invitation; it was a dare. The silence of the dorm suddenly felt like a pressure cooker, and the few meters of hallway between her bedroom and the kitchen felt like a mile of open wire.

yumeko [3:40 AM]: i'm not hiding. it's very comfy.

yumeko [3:41 AM]: but maybe you can convince me. is the shared music experience included this time around too? or am i just coming down for the caffeine?

Kira smirked, a weird and unnatural nervousness or anticipation taking over her whole body. 

Kira [3:42 AM]: Just come downstairs already.

***

The hallway felt longer than it had the night before, the air colder against Yumeko’s bare legs. Every floorboard creak sounded like a gunshot in the 3AM silence of the dorm. She was acutely aware of the weight of the grey fabric on her shoulders—Kira’s scent, Kira’s size, Kira’s space.

When she rounded the corner into the kitchen, the atmosphere wasn't the soft, curious blue of their first late-night encounter. It was heavy, charged with the residual electricity of the day. The "Ice King" wasn't leaning coolly against the counter; she was standing by the island, her knuckles white as she gripped a ceramic mug.

Kira was wearing a white ribbed tank top this time, the fabric making her skin and the sharp lines of her shoulders look even more defined in the dim light. She looked nervous—an unnatural, twitchy energy that made her silver-rimmed glasses slide slightly down her nose. Very uncharacteristic of her. 

She didn't say a word. She just held out the single white earbud, her hand trembling just enough for Yumeko to notice.

Yumeko stepped into the heat of Kira’s personal space. She felt that addicting tension crawling up her spine again, that devastating pull they couldn't seem to run away from. She took the earbud, her fingertips lingering on Kira’s skin for a second too long, and tucked it in.

Immediately, the frantic, synthetic beat of "Dancing With Our Hands Tied" invaded her ears.

Yumeko’s eyes widened, her breath hitching as the lyrics about a deep blue, painted golden love and hands tied hit her with the force of a physical blow.

It was too loud, too pointed, too much of a confession. 

She looked up, and for the first time, Kira wasn't hiding behind the "Leader" mask. She was smirking—a jagged, triumphant little smile that said she’d been waiting for exactly this look of shock on Yumeko’s face.

"Careful, Leader," Yumeko breathed, her voice small and shaky, though her eyes were shining with a sudden, reckless boldness. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were using Taylor to seduce me."

The words were a dare, a flare sent up in the dark. But even as she said them, Yumeko’s body betrayed her; she was vibrating, her hands disappearing into the long sleeves of the hoodie to hide how hard she was shaking.

Kira didn't back away. She leaned in, the white tank top shifting to reveal the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. She looked at Yumeko—really looked at her—the distance between them screaming with everything they hadn't said to each other.

"And if I was?" Kira whispered, the low, devastating tone from her texts finally manifest in the air between them. "Would that work?” 

The question hung in the air, heavy and humid, competing with the frantic pulse of the synth-pop in their ears. Kira didn’t wait for an answer. Her hand, devoid of the leather glove from the set but still possessing that same terrifying certainty, drifted from the counter to the soft cotton of the hoodie at Yumeko’s waist.

She didn't pull her closer yet. She just anchored her.

"You’re shaking again," Kira murmured, her eyes dropping to Yumeko’s mouth for a heartbeat before snapping back up to her wide, shining eyes. "Is it the song, or is it the company?"

Yumeko felt the heat of Kira’s palm through the thick grey fabric. It was a grounding weight, but it made her head swim. She needed to break the gravitational pull before she completely dissolved. 

"I think It’s just the shock," Yumeko breathed, a small, reckless smirk playing on her lips despite the way her knees felt like water. "I didn't think the ‘King’ was capable of such a cliché move. Honestly, Kira... I’ve heard this one before. It’s a bit of a classic, don't you think?"

The reaction was instantaneous.

Kira’s expression didn't just harden; it darkened. The smudge of a smirk vanished, replaced by a sharp, possessive tension in her jaw. The idea of someone else, some nameless shadow, daring to use Taylor’s music to get to Yumeko. The jealousy was naked, unscripted, and entirely transparent.

Her grip on Yumeko’s waist tightened, her fingers digging into the fabric until Yumeko was forced a step closer, her chest nearly brushing the white ribbing of Kira’s tank top.

"You’ve heard it before?" Kira repeated, her voice dropping into a register so low it was practically a growl. "Who?”

Yumeko felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. She looked up at Kira, seeing the way the silver frames of her glasses caught the moonlight, the way the pulse in her neck was erratic against the white ribbing of her tank top.

Earlier that day, Kira had been the one in total control. She had been the one to issue the commands, to drag Yumeko into a bathroom, while Yumeko was left panting and undone. The memory of that frustration—that feeling of being discarded once the "work" was done—flared up in Yumeko’s chest, turning her nerves into a sharp, teasing bravery.

She wasn't going to make it easy for Kira. Not tonight.

"Does it matter?" Yumeko breathed, her voice airy and dangerously light. She didn't pull away; instead, she leaned an inch closer, her chest finally brushing the soft cotton of Kira’s tank top. "I didn't realize the Leader of LUCKY SINS was so concerned with my past... playlist history."

"It’s a Leader’s job to know all about her members' history," Kira rasped, the lie sounding like gravel in her throat. 

Yumeko tilted her head, her eyes catching the faint blue light of the microwave. She felt the frantic beat of the Taylor Swift track in her ear, and the irony of it was almost too much to handle.

"Is that so? You want me to tell you all the details about my past playlist history then?" Yumeko whispered, her voice airy and dangerously bold. She leaned in just enough to feel the heat radiating off Kira’s white tank top.

Kira’s jaw locked. The image flared in her mind—vivid, unwanted, and poisonous. Someone else leaning into Yumeko’s space.

“No,” Kira answered too quickly, her eyes snapping shut for a fraction of a second as if she could physically block out the mental image. “That’s not necessary. A name would do just fine.”

Yumeko felt the thrill of it— the girl who always had a calculated answer for everything, was currently grasping at straws. 

“What do you want a name for, Kira-ssa?” Yumeko asked, the challenge vibrating in the quiet kitchen. Her voice was airy, teasing, yet there was a sharp edge to it that demanded an answer.

Kira’s eyes opened, dark and narrowed behind her silver-rimmed glasses. She didn't let go of the hoodie; if anything, her grip tightened, the grey fabric groaning under the tension.

“It’s not like I know anything about your past… ‘playlist’ history,” Yumeko continued, her gaze dropping to the white ribbing of Kira’s tank top before flicking back up. “You’re very careful about what you let people see. Why should I be any different?”

Kira stepped closer, the heat radiating off her skin a stark contrast to the cold marble at Yumeko’s back. The frantic, synthetic beat of the Taylor Swift song was still pulsing in their shared earbud, a high-stakes rhythm for a conversation that was no longer about music.

“Because I’m the one standing here,” Kira rasped, her voice dropping into that devastating, low-frequency register that made Yumeko’s knees feel like paper. “And I don’t like the idea of anyone else’s ghost being in this room while you’re wearing my hoodie.”

She leaned down, her nose brushing against the shell of Yumeko’s ear, her breath a warm, ghosting touch against the sensitive skin.

“You want to know my history?” Kira murmured, her thumb tracing the line of Yumeko’s jaw with a shaky, agonizing possessiveness. “Ask me.” 

Her brain was screaming at her: She’s baiting you. This is a game. Revert to the script. But the logical part of Kira’s mind had been drowned out the moment Yumeko’s chest brushed her white tank top. All that remained was a raw, territorial instinct that didn't care about "professionalism" or "group dynamics."

Part of Yumeko’s brain wanted to keep pushing the woman to see how much she could take but the other part, the more rational one, knew she wasn’t ready to know about Kira’s past. She was still processing her crush over the girl, it was too soon to ruin it with her insecurities about others. She wanted to remain happily oblivious some more. 

Yumeko decided to deflect. Change the subject. Retreat. Go back to “safety”—whatever that meant for them right now. 

“So am I ever getting the caffeine I was promised or?”