Thud....

The sharp crack of the belt cuts through the room, echoing in the walls, in your chest. You watch in horror as Taehyung sits on the floor, enduring each strike without a word, his body curling tighter with each blow. Your foster father stands over him, fury etched into his face, his hand bringing the belt down again and again. You can’t bear it — you can’t let him suffer like this.

“PLEASE, STOP! D-Don’t hurt him!” you cry, your voice breaking, but your words go unheard.

The belt snaps down once more, and you see Taehyung’s jaw clench as he stifles a groan. Your heart shatters, and in that instant, all fear vanishes. You dart forward, ignoring the sting of your knees hitting the floor as you throw your arms around Taehyung, shielding him with your small body.

“Stop! Hit Me Instead! It’s My Fault!” you sob, burying your face into his shoulder. "Please, j-just stop hurting him."

But Taehyung’s arms wrap tightly around you, pulling you even closer. “N-No, Y-Yn,” he murmurs, his voice weak but resolute. He shifts his position, sheltering you, his body forming a barrier between you and the pain meant for him. He’s trembling, and yet he holds firm, his arms shielding you as best as he can.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers, his voice breaking, but he doesn’t loosen his grip.

You can’t stop the tears that flood your eyes, streaming down your cheeks as the hopelessness sinks in. You clutch him tighter, feeling the heat of his bruises beneath your fingers, knowing he took them for you. You sob into his shoulder, begging, pleading for it to stop.

“P-Please… don’t hurt him a-anymore…” you whisper, but your words fall into silence.

You were only two years old when they first came for Taehyung. He was five, already showing a maturity far beyond his age, but he was still a child who wanted nothing more than to protect you. After your parents’ accident, the orphanage had become your home, though a cold one. Family was a word you barely understood, but Taehyung was the one constant in your little world, holding your hand and watching over you.

One day, a couple came to visit, their gaze lingering on Taehyung. He was polite, calm, and quietly brave, qualities that seemed to charm them instantly. They spoke with the adoption officer, casting glances your way but making it clear who they were truly interested in.

But Taehyung’s small hand gripped yours tightly. When they asked him if he’d like to come home with them, he looked up at them with steady eyes, his hand still wrapped around yours.

“Not without her,” he said, his voice unwavering despite his young age. “She’s my sister. I won’t leave her.”

The couple exchanged uncertain glances, realizing the condition he had set. After a quiet discussion with the adoption officer, they agreed. You were both going to a new home together.

For the first few years, things were beautiful. Your foster parents showered both of you with warmth and care. You and Taehyung settled into this new family, slowly learning to trust again. You played in the garden, shared stories at bedtime, and even laughed at silly moments around the dinner table. There were nights when they’d read you bedtime stories or let you fall asleep on their laps. For the first time since you could remember, life felt safe.

But then, Minji was born.

You and Taehyung were overjoyed at first, fascinated by your new little sister. You’d watch over her crib, fascinated by her small fingers and sleepy smiles. Taehyung would always look out for her, making sure she was happy and protected, and you, too, felt a strange protectiveness for her.

But everything changed as Minji grew. Suddenly, it seemed as though there was only space for one child in the hearts of your foster parents. They were distant now, quick to scold and anger whenever it involved you, especially. Their disappointment and frustration began to surface, and Taehyung, watching them, sensed the change before you did. Whenever their anger turned towards you, Taehyung was there, shielding you, sometimes literally stepping in to take the harsh words and even the punishment meant for you.

Your thoughts snap back to the present as your foster father’s wrath is finally spent. He throws the belt aside, his breathing heavy. Taehyung pushes himself up, his hand trembling as he wipes the tears from your cheeks.

“It’s okay, b-baby,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the pain. "Don't cry."

Minji, who had been watching from the corner, runs up to Taehyung, her face pale as she takes in the bruises forming on his arms and shoulders. Tears fill her eyes as she reaches out to him, her voice small. “Oppa… I-I’m sorry.”

Taehyung gives her a quick glance, managing a weak smile. “It’s okay, Minji,” he says softly before disappearing into his room, stumbling slightly as he goes.

You watch as your foster mother hurries after him, carrying a first aid kit, her face lined with worry. For a moment, you feel a pang of something bitter, seeing her care for him now, when she had done nothing to stop your foster father’s rage. You stay rooted in place, unsure of what to do, your heart aching.

But then Minji turns to you, her expression darkening. With a sudden shove, she pushes you, sending you stumbling back onto the floor. “THIS IS ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!” she yells, her voice shaking. “OPPA GOT HURT BECAUSE OF YOU!”

You sit on the floor, looking down, your hands clenched into fists as her words sting. “You Always Ruin Everything!” she snaps, tears of anger brimming in her eyes. “I Wish YOU’D JUST GO AWAY.”

Her words cut deep, each one sharp and painful. You feel the hot tears well up, but you bite down, holding them back as best as you can. Without a word, you stand, and make your way to your room, closing the door softly behind you.

A gentle pat on your cheek pulls you from sleep. You blink, confused, as your brother’s face comes into view. Taehyung’s expression is serious, and he’s leaning close, whispering, “Yn, let’s go.”

You rub your eyes, still groggy, but his urgency keeps you silent. He helps you sit up, then begins to dress you in warm layers, even as you try to understand what’s happening. “Where are we going, Oppa?” you whisper, but he just smiles faintly, putting a finger to his lips.

“Shh. Just follow me, okay?”

He grabs a small bag, quickly stuffing it with some of your clothes and a few snacks from the shelves. Holding your hand tightly, he leads you quietly into the living room. There, Taehyung hesitates for a second, then reaches into your foster father’s wallet, taking out all the cash he can find. He glances back at you, his eyes determined, before adding a few more food items to the bag.

Without another word, he takes your hand, and the two of you slip out of the house, moving in silence across the yard and out into the street. The cold night air nips at your cheeks, but Taehyung’s hand is warm, reassuring. As you cross the road, he tightens his grip and picks up the pace, urging you to run with him, though you’re not sure why. You trust him.

Finally, you both stop at a bridge on the edge of town, your small legs struggling to keep up. Catching your breath, you look up at him, confused but trusting. “Oppa, are we here for a picnic?” you ask, tilting your head in innocent curiosity.

He smiles down at you, though there’s a sadness in his eyes. “Yes… sort of,” he murmurs, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. Leading you down a small embankment, he finds a sheltered spot under the bridge. You notice there are others here too — families and strangers bundled together, huddling against the night chill. Some glance over, their expressions wary, but Taehyung doesn’t stop until he finds a small, clear patch where he lays out a sleeping bag on the ground.

He gestures for you to sit, his smile warm but tired. “Here, let’s get comfortable,” he says, pulling the blankets around you both as he unpacks the snacks he’d grabbed. “Are you hungry?”

You nod eagerly, and he opens a small packet of cookies, handing one to you. You nibble on it happily, offering him bites between your own, but he waves you off with a smile, saying, “You eat first. I’ll have some later.”

You sit close to him, the chill of the night air less noticeable in the small cocoon of warmth he’s created for you both. With every bite, you steal glances at him, his face determined but somehow sad. You want to ask him what’s going on, but something in his expression tells you to stay quiet, to enjoy this little “picnic” he’s made for you.

When the snacks are gone, he wraps his arm around you, tucking you close into his side. The sounds of the city murmur in the background, but it all fades away as you lean against him, feeling safe and warm despite the strange, new surroundings.

After a while, you feel your eyelids growing heavy, lulled by the warmth of the sleeping bag and Taehyung’s steady presence. Just before you drift off, you whisper, “Oppa… are we going home tomorrow?”

Taehyung pauses, then strokes your hair gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes… one day. We’ll find a home. A real one.”

The days have blurred together, each one feeling colder and hungrier than the last. You look up at Taehyung as you both wander through the unfamiliar streets. His face is thinner, his clothes hanging a bit looser, and you can’t help but worry.

“Oppa, where are we going now?” you ask softly, glancing up at him.

He stops, his eyes dimming for just a second before he forces a small smile. “Let’s find something to eat, okay? Are you hungry?”

You shake your head quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m not hungry, Oppa.” But as you say it, your stomach lets out a loud growl. Taehyung’s smile fades, and his eyes grow misty.

He crouches down, gently holding your shoulders. “Childrens shouldn’t be hungry” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “I’ll get us some food.”

You watch as he rises to his feet, and without thinking, you grab his hand. “But, Oppa… we don’t have any money. How will you buy it?”

His smile falters, and his gaze shifts. After a pause, he squeezes your hand. “Just wait here, okay? I’ll come back really soon, and I’ll bring something for us to eat. Can you do that, baby?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “Don’t take too long, Oppa. And bring something for yourself too, okay?”

He chuckles softly, kneeling down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I promise. I love you.” Then he said in a barely audible voice. “Please forgive your Oppa, baby.” Then he stands up, waves at you one last time, and disappears into the bustling crowd.

You wait, holding your hands to keep warm, your eyes fixed on the spot where he vanished. Minutes turn into an hour, and then two, and the sun begins to set. You fidget, trying to stay patient, telling yourself that Oppa is coming back any minute now.

Finally, a few police officers approach you, their eyes soft as they see you sitting alone. “Hey there, little girl,” one of them says kindly. “Are you here by yourself?”

You shake your head firmly. “Ani, my Oppa went to get us some food. He’ll be back soon.”

The officer exchanges a look with his partner, then crouches down to your level. “Do you remember where he went?”

You point toward the convenience store you saw him head toward. “Over there… but he went into the crowd after that.”

The officer nods, glancing back at the station nearby. “How about we go wait at the station, hmm? It’s warmer there.”

You scrunch your nose, eyeing him suspiciously. “My Oppa says not to trust strangers,” you say firmly, crossing your arms. “What if you kidnap me?”

The officers chuckle, one of them holding up a badge. “We’re police officers, little one. You’ll be safe with us, I promise.”

After a moment, you nod and allow them to lead you to the station, hoping with all your heart that Oppa will find you there soon.

Ten Years Later-

You wake up slowly, blinking against the early morning light filtering through the window. You rub your eyes, taking in the quiet, empty room. It's been years since you’ve heard the laughter that used to fill your mornings when Oppa was still by your side. You push those thoughts away, knowing they only bring pain now.

With a sigh, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up, then head downstairs. As you reach the kitchen, you spot Minji sitting at the table, arms crossed, looking at you with that all-too-familiar glint in her eyes. She gives you a mocking smile, raising her eyebrows.

"Cook me something," she demands with a bored tone. “I’m hungry.”

You nod without a word, slipping into the kitchen. It’s not worth arguing. Over the years, you’ve learned that the best way to survive is to keep your distance from Minji, to stay invisible whenever possible. You’ve seen the consequences of her tantrums too many times—seen the cold fury in your foster father’s eyes when Minji cries and blames you. Those nights haunt you.

You try to focus on the smell of the food as it cooks, letting it ground you, reminding yourself to keep quiet and avoid trouble. But your thoughts drift back, as they always do, to that night under the bridge—the night when Oppa promised he’d come back.

Back then, after the police took you to the station, you held on to a flicker of hope. You kept telling yourself, “Oppa will come. He’s just a little late.” But then, your foster parents came for you. They didn’t bring warmth or comfort—only the weight of their disappointment and anger. You were punished for running away, locked in your room and given no food for days. And even when they finally allowed you out, the kindness they showed you was conditional, a pretense only until the next time Minji cried and turned her tear-filled eyes on you.

You pour the soup into a bowl and set it on the table in front of Minji, who barely acknowledges you. You’ve grown used to it—used to keeping your head down, keeping quiet. And somewhere along the way, you stopped hoping for Oppa to return.

The years have taught you that sometimes people don’t come back, that promises aren’t always kept. You cling to the few memories you have of him, but they’re fading.

You make your way through the bustling corridors of Seoul Arts College, heading directly to the dance practice room. The familiar sound of laughter and conversations fill the air, but you keep your head down, pushing through until you reach the door. Inside, you notice Minji surrounded by a mix of familiar and new faces. She’s in her element as usual, talking animatedly with some theater students. You quietly slip into an empty chair, placing your bag on the floor and keeping your gaze low, waiting for Professor Moon to start the meeting.

Professor Moon clears his throat, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. “This is a huge honor for our college,” he begins, his voice carrying a sense of pride and excitement. “Next week, a few well-known idols will be visiting us, looking to cast students for their upcoming project. They’ll be scouting for both dancers and actors, so I expect every one of you to give your best. This could be the opportunity that changes your life.”

Minji raises her hand, her usual confidence shining through. “Sir, if it’s a dance project, why do you need theater students?”

Professor Moon nods thoughtfully. “Good question, Minji. The project involves both dance and acting—it’s a fusion performance. I’ll need you to work together as a group to support each other and put forth your best.”

You nod along with the others, though your attention drifts back to your phone, scrolling without much interest. This competition sounds big, but it’s hard to feel anything beyond your usual indifference these days.

Minji’s voice interrupts your thoughts again. “Sir, can you tell us who’s coming?” she asks eagerly, her eyes wide with anticipation.

Professor Moon chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s a secret,” he says, a smile creeping onto his face.

Minji squeals, clasping her hands together. “I hope Taehyung oppa is coming!” she says loudly, her voice filled with excitement.

A murmur sweeps through the room, and you feel the atmosphere change as people begin to whisper. Some students look at her with envy, while others with disbelief. One of them speaks up, eyebrows raised. “Wait… you know Taehyung?”

Minji straightens, her voice dripping with pride. “Of course. He’s my brother,” she declares confidently. Her tone is filled with a mixture of smugness and satisfaction, relishing the attention.

Meanwhile, your fingers freeze mid-scroll, your entire body tensing at the mention of his name. Taehyung. Oppa. Your brother, Kim Taehyung, the one who left you alone on that cold street all those years ago. He’s now a part of the world’s biggest boy band, someone adored by millions, including your foster family, who were thrilled when they learned of his fame and wealth. You remember how your foster parents changed their tune the moment they realized their adopted son was a star. They bragged endlessly about him, basking in his success as if they’d always supported him.

But for you, the name brings only confusion and anger. After he left, you spent years hoping he’d come back, holding onto that tiny spark of hope. But he didn’t. As time passed, you convinced yourself you wanted to see him just to ask him why. Why did he leave you that night? Why didn’t he take you with him? Now, though, the bitterness has settled deep inside you, solidifying into a quiet resolve: you don’t want to see him, don’t need answers, and certainly don’t want any connection to him.

Professor Moon’s voice pulls you back to the present. “Yn,” he says, addressing you directly, “I want you to help lead the dance preparations and make sure everyone is ready for this. I trust you to take this seriously.”

You nod, offering a polite smile, but your mind is elsewhere, memories clashing with reality. Across the room, Minji is still talking excitedly about Taehyung, unaware of the impact her words have on you. You drop your gaze, feeling a dull ache settle in your chest as you realize that, despite everything, his name still holds power over you.

But you refuse to let it consume you.

The entire week has been a blur of practice, pushing yourself to the limit alongside helping your classmates perfect their moves. Now, standing in the wings, you take a deep breath as you prepare to take the stage. This is your moment—a chance to show the hours you’ve poured into every single detail of this performance.

The music begins, and you step into the spotlight, flowing into the first move with elegance. You start with a fluid contemporary step, letting the rhythm guide you as you glide across the stage. Then, seamlessly, you break into hip-hop, adding sharp, powerful movements that contrast with the graceful lines of your contemporary style. A quick spin, your arms extending as you transition into a pirouette, and then, back into a hip-hop bounce, your body hitting each beat with precision. The audience is captivated, their eyes following your every move.

As the music swells, you pour your energy into the last sequence, landing in a dramatic final pose. The stage lights dim, and for a heartbeat, there’s silence.

Then the applause starts, rising into cheers and whistles from the crowd. The energy fills you, a rush of adrenaline and pride warming you from within. You offer a small bow, a satisfied smile gracing your lips, and thank the crowd before heading offstage.

As you reach backstage, you catch sight of Minji. Her eyes are wide with excitement as she rushes toward you, her tone bright and hopeful. “Did you see Taehyung oppa in the crowd? Was he watching?”

Her question makes you pause. You glance at her briefly, a hint of surprise flickering in your gaze, but you don’t respond. Without a word, you turn and head toward the changing room, letting her excitement echo in the hallway as you close the door behind you.

The competition is over, and as you make your way back to the dance practice room, you feel a mix of exhaustion and relief. But when you push open the door, you freeze. Standing there, looking almost unreal, is Taehyung. The sight of him makes your heart pound painfully in your chest, every emotion you’ve bottled up threatening to spill over. You want to demand answers, to hit him, to ask why he abandoned you all those years ago. But instead, you suppress it, burying the emotions as you’ve done for so long. Instead, you bow slightly, acknowledging him with a cold respect.

Taehyung’s face falls as he takes in your expressionless gaze. He knows he’s responsible for the hurt in your eyes, the distance in your stance. Slowly, he starts to move toward you, his mouth opening as if to say something.

But before he can, Minji’s voice cuts through the air. “TAEHYUNG OPPA!” she shouts, sprinting toward him and jumping into his arms. Taehyung laughs softly, patting her back, his expression filled with affection. After all, Minji is his sister too—he’s always cared for her. But you… you were something more, a piece of his heart that’s been missing all these years.

The sound of footsteps and voices fill the room as other students and faculty members join. Mr. Moon claps you on the shoulder, smiling proudly. “You did a fantastic job, just as I expected,” he says warmly. You offer him a small smile.

“Did you choreograph that performance by yourself?” asks J-Hope, one of the BTS members, a look of surprise on his face. Before you can respond, Mr. Moon answers for you. “Yes, she did. Every step was her own creation.”

The room fills with murmurs of admiration and disbelief. You feel a hint of pride, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the weight of everything around you. Then, the BTS manager steps forward, handing out application forms to everyone who performed. “Make sure these are signed by your guardians and returned,” he says.

As the others tuck the forms into their bags, you fill yours out, signing in the guardian section as well. The manager looks at you, puzzled. “Your guardian should sign here, not you.”

Your gaze doesn’t waver as you respond evenly, “My parents died when I was two, and the only family I had died ten years ago. So, I’m an orphan.”

The room falls silent, every eye turning toward you. Expressions of pity and shock surround you, but you ignore them, used to this reaction. Your words hang heavy in the air, cutting deeper than you’d intended. Only one face among them shows something different—Taehyung’s.

He looks devastated, his eyes filled with tears as he watches you. Hearing you call yourself an orphan, while he stands just feet away, shatters him all over again.

Without sparing him a glance, you bow politely and leave the room, heading back to practice. Behind you, Taehyung stands frozen, the weight of guilt pressing down on him as he realizes the extent of the pain his absence has caused you.

You step out of the van, your eyes immediately scanning the beautiful set. Cherry blossom trees line the area, their soft petals drifting in the breeze, while lavender plants add a sweet fragrance to the air. The scenery is picturesque, almost like something out of a dream. A deep breath escapes your lips as you take it all in. You’ve always wanted to come to a place like this with Taehyung. Back when you two were on the streets, you’d dream about moments like this—of having somewhere beautiful to go with your brother.

But fate, it seems, had other plans.

Yn: (softly to yourself) "I guess it’s too late for that now."

Shaking the thought off, you begin to walk forward, your eyes drifting over the landscape.

As you make your way to the vanity van to get dressed, you spot Taehyung standing with Minji. He’s gently patting her back, his expression filled with concern. You can’t help but roll your eyes. It’s obvious—Minji’s allergic to pollen, but it’s not a serious allergy. Just a rash and a runny nose. She’s acting as though she’s dying, crying in Taehyung’s arms.

Minji: (sniffling, dramatically) "Taehyung oppa, I can’t breathe!"

Taehyung: (calming her down, softly) "It’s okay, Minji. Just take a breath, alright?"

You scoff, your patience thin. You turn away and walk toward the vanity van, ignoring them as you pass by. Inside, the room is bustling with other dancers and crew members. You greet them with a polite smile before settling into your chair, preparing for the next phase of your day.

A lady approaches you to begin your makeup. As she sets out the items she needs, she hands you a dress. You frown at it.

Yn: (frowning, holding up the dress) "This... this isn’t what I requested."

The dress is far too revealing, and you had already made it clear to the authorities that you wouldn’t wear anything like this.

Lady: (looking a bit flustered) "Oh, this was swapped last minute, actually. It was supposed to be Minji’s dress, but they changed it. Sorry, I don’t know why."

Your frustration grows. You try to stay calm, but it’s hard when you know Minji has likely caused all of this. You stand up, the chair scraping loudly as you walk out of the vanity van.

You make your way over to Minji, who’s talking to the staff.

Yn: (calmly, but with a sharp edge) "Minji, why did you swap the dress? You know I don’t wear anything like this."

Minji: (shrugging, not making eye contact) "Well, maybe you should try it. After all, you are Kim Taehyung’s sister."

Her words sting, and you feel a flash of anger. You glare at her, feeling your patience snap.

Yn: (coldly, with a warning tone) "Don’t mess with me, Minji. I know exactly what you’re doing."

Minji doesn’t respond, instead walking away with a smug smile.

You let out a frustrated sigh and turn to head back to the vanity van. The lady hands you the dress again, and this time, you don’t question it. She directs you to the trial room.

Lady: (disinterested) "Please change in there."

You nod curtly, your mind still simmering from the encounter with Minji. You walk toward the trial room,

You step into the trial room, the door clicking shut behind you. A deep sigh escapes your lips as you begin to undress, the cool air of the room brushing against your skin. You stand in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection. But as you look at yourself, something else stands out—the marks, the bruises that cover your body, each one a painful reminder of the torment you've endured over the past ten years.

It's not that you don't want to wear a beautiful dress, to look like the other girls, but your body, scarred and torn, refuses to let you forget what you've been through. You wanted to be able to move on, to feel like the person you should've been, but each mark, each scar is a story of its own, a story that still haunts you.

Yn: (quietly to yourself) "Why did you leave me, Oppa? If you really wanted to leave... why not somewhere peaceful? Why did you leave me here to suffer?"

Tears start to well up in your eyes, the memories flooding back. You shift your gaze from your arms to your collarbones, your eyes landing on a large, angry burn mark across your chest. It feels like it happened yesterday.

You vividly remember the day—Minji had been in the kitchen, clumsily dropping boiling water on the ground. She pretended to hurt herself, and in her usual self-serving way, she cried and screamed for attention. Your foster mother, enraged, grabbed the nearest boiling pot of water and threw it at you, her anger misplaced, her judgment clouded by the manipulation Minji had set in motion.

The searing pain burned through your chest, and the shock of it was enough to make you scream out, your body writhing in agony. You remember the faces of your foster parents when they realized what had happened—too late. They rushed you to the hospital, but the damage was done. You were lucky the water didn’t touch your face, but the burns on your chest and upper body remained, reminders of their cruelty.

It was then you understood: involving yourself with Minji would only cause you more pain. So, you shut yourself off from the world. As an 11-year-old child, when others were crying and playing, you kept yourself hidden, retreating into your room where you could escape the hurt. You taught yourself to cook, to fend for yourself, to survive.

You wipe away a tear as you quickly change into the dress they gave you. It’s not as revealing as you first thought, but the fabric is thin, and the design exposes more of your scars than you’d like to reveal. Your arms are bare, the mark on your chest is clearly visible, and the shortness of the dress only highlights the scars that mar your legs. You sigh deeply, adjusting the dress slightly, but it doesn’t make you feel any less exposed.

The dress may be beautiful on others, but for you, it’s another painful reminder that no matter how hard you try to hide, your past always catches up with you.

Yn: (softly to yourself, almost defeated) "I guess this is who I am now... scars and all."

As you step out of the trial room, every pair of eyes in the room seems to land on you. The silence is palpable, and for a moment, you feel exposed under the weight of their gazes. But you don't let it faze you. You simply walk past them and make your way to your chair, sitting down quietly, as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

A lady approaches you, looking at your outfit with a mix of surprise and admiration.

Lady: "Wow, you really changed the whole look. It’s... stunning."

You smile faintly and glance at your reflection in the mirror. You had kept the original dress, but you added your own twist. Underneath, you wore a sleek black high-neck top that covered your arms and chest, making the outfit more comfortable for you while still looking stylish. The leggings you chose were a perfect match—partially black with a subtle design that complemented the dress. Your brown boots tied the look together, giving it an edgy yet refined vibe.

You looked at yourself again, a quiet sense of pride swelling within you. Despite everything, despite how others might see you, you managed to make the dress your own, a blend of beauty, practicality, and strength.

The moment you step onto the set, all eyes turn to you. You can feel the weight of their gazes, but you don’t let it affect you. You walk with quiet confidence, greeting the crew and the other dancers, but Minji’s disapproving look doesn’t escape you. You catch a glimpse of her, her eyes narrowing as she watches you.

Director: "Taehyung, we’ll need to switch positions. Yn’s aura is too strong compared to others. Let’s put her in the center."

Taehyung nods without hesitation, and you step forward to take his place. Your heart beats a little faster—being in the spotlight is one thing, but being paired with Taehyung? That’s a whole other level. But you push the anxiety down, knowing you have no choice but to give it your all.

As the shooting starts, you focus on your steps, your movements, your chemistry with Taehyung, and your breathing. The camera crew watches closely as you both perform flawlessly. But then, out of nowhere, the heavy chain Taehyung is wearing swings and strikes him just below his eye, the impact so sharp that everyone freezes in panic. You’re the first to notice, your eyes wide as you see the blood start to form at the side of his face.

Director: "Get the medical team! Now!"

Everything erupts into chaos.

Suddenly, you feel someone yank you harshly by your arm. Minji’s grip tightens painfully as she drags you away from the chaos, and you can’t help but stumble.

Minji: "YOU THINK YOU’RE SPECIAL? YOU WERE WITH HIM FOR BARELY A MINUTE AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED—HE ALMOST LOST HIS EYE!"

Before you can respond, Minji’s slap lands across your face, and you fall to the ground. The impact knocks the air out of your lungs, and you crash into the pile of junked metal behind you, groaning in pain.

Minji: "Didn’t I Tell You? You’re A Curse. You Always Were. Your Parents Died Because Of You, And Now You Want To Kill Oppa, Too?"

Tears blur your vision as you push yourself up from the dirt, every movement sending waves of pain through your body. Minji’s voice is harsh, full of venom.

Minji: "If Something Happens To Oppa, I’ll Make Sure You See Hell."

You don’t have the energy to respond to her cruelty. Instead, you focus on your breathing, but it’s hard—so hard. You can’t breathe. The weight of the rust in the air is suffocating you, and your heart starts to pound in your chest.

Yn (pleading): "P-Please... Minji... I can’t... I can’t breathe..."

But Minji isn’t listening. She remains unfazed as she delivers a harsh kick to your stomach, sending you sprawling back to the ground.

Minji: "Die, then. It’ll be better for everyone."

You watch, helpless, as she leaves you in the junkyard, locking the door behind her. The sound of the metal clanging against the frame rings in your ears, and your panic sets in.

You know you’re allergic to rust. You can feel the tightness in your chest as it becomes harder and harder to breathe. You try to push yourself up, but your body is weakening with every breath.

Yn (gasping, banging the door): "Please... someone... please help me!"

You bang your fists against the door, desperate for anyone to hear you, but no one comes. The air feels thick, suffocating. Your vision starts to blur as the room spins.

You (barely audible): "Please... I can’t breathe..."

With every frantic knock, your strength wanes, but you can’t stop. You can’t die here—not like this. But the more you struggle, the further you slip into darkness, helpless and alone.

To be Continued....