You were the maknae of (you choose which group), only seventeen, yet already burdened with the weight of a career most people your age could barely imagine. The life of an idol was dazzling on the outside—spotlights, applause, the illusion of perfection—but behind the curtains, it was an exhausting cycle of rehearsals, recordings, and relentless schedules. Between late-night dance practices, vocal lessons that demanded precision, and trying to keep up with your schoolwork, the pressure never seemed to ease. The stress followed you everywhere, like an invisible shadow.

But the workload wasn’t the only thing gnawing at you. Lately, something worse had been building outside of the practice rooms and stages: the rumors.

Fans and media alike had begun “shipping” you with other young idols—Nishimura Riki, Seungheon, and countless others—simply because you were close in age or appeared in the same spaces. At first, you tried to ignore it, brushing it off as the usual imagination of fans. But then it escalated.

One morning, your phone buzzed endlessly with notifications. Online, your name was trending at number one, paired with Seungheon’s. Photoshopped images of the two of you kissing were circulating everywhere, spreading like wildfire. Some were so convincing that even you had to blink twice, shocked at what people were capable of creating. The comments ranged from playful teasing to vicious criticism, and though you wanted to remind yourself it wasn’t real, it still felt suffocating.

Your company noticed too—but instead of offering comfort, they made rules. Strict ones. You were told to cut all contact with Seungheon immediately. No private conversations, no friendly hellos if you happened to cross paths at an event, and absolutely no public interactions. The explanation was blunt: “Even if the rumors are false, perception is what matters.”

You had tried to explain to them—tried to insist that the photos were fake, that you and Seungheon had been nothing more than acquaintances. But your words fell on deaf ears. The company’s reputation and the group’s image mattered more than the truth, and you were reminded that you signed up for this.

It left you in a lonely position. You weren’t allowed to defend yourself publicly, not allowed to speak out or correct the lies. You had to keep smiling on camera, pretending none of it affected you, while inside the pressure built higher and higher. You were just seventeen, and yet the world demanded you be flawless, untouchable, and silent.