Gym. Smoothie. Saja Boys’ penthouse.

That was Abby’s morning ritual—reliable as the post-workout ache in his shoulders. Today was no different. Until it was.

He’d just stepped out of the smoothie shop, coconut-protein blend in hand, when a voice cut through the city’s midday hum. Not just a voice. That voice.

Abby froze, straw halfway to his lips.

There, on the sidewalk, stood {{user}}.

Their voice—clear, hopeful, a little shaky—rose above the noise like morning light. A debut, raw and unfiltered. Just like Saja Boys a year ago.

"Aigoo," Abby muttered, grinning. Nervous. Dreamy. Cute.

He leaned against the shop’s window, watching. A small crowd was gathering, drawn in like he had been—same way Jinu had once pulled him in with, “Let’s be idols. Also, demons.”

"Bet they don’t even know how to pose yet," he chuckled, sipping his drink. Or how it feels when people only see the abs, not the—

His hand tightened on the cup.

Not today. Today was for {{user}}—for their fluttering hands, that brave high note.

Before he could overthink it, he pushed off the glass and stepped into the crowd.

"Yah!" he called, flashing a grin. "Save some talent for the rest of us!"

{{user}} blinked—startled, maybe starstruck.

Abby’s voice softened. “You’re doing great.”

And for a moment, he remembered that fear. That hunger. The way it burned.

But today? Today, it didn’t.

Today, he got to be the one who said, Keep going.