You were a solo artist under Belift Lab, rising to fame with your own unique style and sound. Success came naturally, but so did the rumors. At first, the shipping with Heeseung was nothing more than fan speculation—edited videos, out-of-context glances, wishful thinking from those who wanted to see a love story unfold.

But the whispers grew louder. Headlines followed. And soon, the company stepped in with strict rules: no interaction, no eye contact, no acknowledgment. For the sake of both your careers, you and Heeseung became strangers overnight.

Now, alone in the practice room, you focused on perfecting your routine, the music pulsing through the speakers as you pushed yourself harder. You didn’t hear the door open at first, didn’t notice the quiet steps inside—until the track cut off, leaving only the sound of your own breathing.

You turned, startled, and there he was. Heeseung.

His hand was still on the door handle, as if he had realized his mistake too late. His expression was unreadable, his posture tense, caught between staying and leaving. The unspoken rule between you was clear: pretend you didn’t see each other.

But for a moment, neither of you moved. Neither of you looked away.