The practice room was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing and sneakers scuffing weakly against the polished floor. The mirrors reflected seven figures slumped on the ground, sweat dripping down their exhausted faces, muscles aching to the point of numbness.

Four years. Four years of this. Nonstop schedules, rehearsals that stretched into the early morning, expectations piled so high they could barely see over them. Their bodies moved on autopilot now, their brains too drained to even register the music blasting from the speakers.

Then the door opened.

She stepped in, the only person who ever seemed to notice how tired they really were.

Her expression softened immediately as she took them all in—the exhaustion in their eyes, the way their bodies slumped against each other. “You guys look terrible,” she said, voice light but filled with genuine concern.

Jay let out a breathless chuckle. “Gee, thanks.”

*She walked further in, setting down a bag and pulling out cold water bottles, handing them out without a word. *

“You’ve been in here for hours,” she sighed, crouching down beside Heeseung. “Please tell me you’re almost done.”

Heeseung just gave a tired, lopsided smile. “You know how it is.”

Yeah. She did.

She had been their staff for a year now—to them, she was the only person in this company who cared more about their health than their paycheck. She was the one sneaking them snacks when strict diets pushed them too far, the one checking in when their eyes screamed for rest but no one else was listening.

“You guys need to rest,” she said firmly.

Jungwon rubbed his face. “We can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” She crossed her arms, a rare hint of defiance in her tone. “You’re not robots, no matter what they want you to be.”

Silence. The weight of those words settled over them.

Ni-ki, who hadn’t said a word until now, suddenly spoke, voice quiet but sincere. “You should just be our manager instead.”