2 days later
The stadium lights hadn’t yet reached full burn, and the world beyond the curtains thrummed with the pulse of anticipation—camera crews sliding across rails, stylists darting with last-minute touchups, and managers trading nervous glances behind screens.
For most people, tonight was another award show, but not for Huntrix.
Not for Yena.
Backstage, Mira, Zoey, and Rumi rehearsed their transitions for Golden with practiced grace, movements sharp even beneath their exhaustion. The Honmoon shimmered faintly with every beat, stable, but flickering at the edges like candlelight in the wind, and Yena felt it.
Felt the shift in reception, the fans were growing erratic, exhausted by repetitive rhythms and numbed by flashier beats that carried no soul. The Saja Boys' music, hypnotic and addictive, had begun to leave dents in the fan's heart. Small ones, but cumulative.
After the group rehearsal, Yena slipped away, wrapped in a soft overshirt, earbuds in, strolling to the stage for her solo. The track? An original OST.
She stood alone before the mic during rehearsal. The lights softened. The instrumental began—melancholy but laced with hope. Her voice didn’t emerge immediately. She breathed and closed her eyes.
🎵 (Everything Goes On (KR remix) 'Chungha' - League of Legends, Porter Robinson)132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDKpKwgUt8K
Don't try to make yourself remember, darling132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpOSP2b27k5
Don't look for me; I'm just a story you've been told132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7A6I3CgQT7
So let's pretend a little longer132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ18j4jDGs6U
'Cause when we're gone132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgv4d6rEhZj
Everything goes on
Oh, 수면 위에 비친 star lights (Oh, reflected on the water)132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡknizukExuu
언제나 반짝일, my heart for you (Always shining)132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡztPmQNSlSm
영원하자던 그 말로 서롤 비추던 (Illuminating each other with words promising eternity)132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhTbLeU6gBg
시간 속을 걷던 우린 너무 아름다웠어 (We were so beautiful walking through those times)
환하게 비춰줄게 (I'll shine on you brightly)132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaN0tsFvTET
No, you don't have to cry132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUdpu1auy7Z
Cause I'll do the grieving132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr96mlRpqAE
While I'm by your side, like always
또 다른 시작일지 몰라, darling (It might be another beginning,)132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdHnDOUW0T9
잠시 머물던 우린 story 안에서 (In a story, we lingered in for a while)132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0r93CtGYeA
난 더 흐릿해져도 괜찮아 (I don't mind becoming dimmer)132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWcf8ZDSys8
떠난 후에도 (Even after we're gone)132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwWMDf3fcIU
Everything goes on132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlm2moLtr7j
🎵
From the side of the stage, the girls stood silently, watching. It had been a while since they had witnessed Yena's solo work; most of the time, she was by their side, silent, observant. She used to be the wallflower of the group during her earlier years with them, and now, she had outgrown that.
Rumi whispered, “Her voice, it's ethereal.”
Mira nodded, awe dancing across her features. “It’s like watching a spirit heal.”
Zoey was near tears. “This is what fans need. Not idol polish. This.”
Yena’s voice wrapped around the stadium like silk dipped in starlight. It didn’t push, it lifted. For a moment, the Honmoon pulsed as if remembering what it was built for.
Protection, emotion, connection, and she meant every word because even if Romance had shaken her… even if the visions tangled her identity… even if the world fell briefly for glamorized deception. She refused to yield.
The award show had reached its golden hour.
A steady stream of performances had rippled through the evening, pop anthems, dramatic ballads, synchronized dance showcases. Hosts grinned, cameras flashed, fans screamed, and yet the energy felt… anticipatory. Like something sacred was about to unfold.
Backstage, Yena stood just behind the curtain, listening to the floor manager count down cues into his headset. Her outfit shimmered under the low lights; celestial blue paired with white star appliqués that caught every flicker of movement. The halter neckline was elegant but unpretentious, and the skirt swirled around her knees like a galaxy learning to breathe.
She adjusted her mic, inhaled slowly, and peeked past the curtain.
Across the stage and near the audience pit, her girls had just taken their seats after performing Golden. Around them, fellow idols nodded and bowed politely at their presence. Huntrix girls decided to chat with Alice Choi, a soloist who was sitting alone, in the meantime.
Then her gaze drifted upward to the tiered seating reserved for the Saja Boys. They were watching. Of course they were.
Romance leaned slightly forward, elbow on knee, gaze unreadable, but at least he was interested in the acts. Jinu sat beside him, expression unreadable; however, his mind was elsewhere, totally uninterested in everything around him. The other boys were so out of place amongst the rest, yet none batted an eye, thinking they were just cute and clumsy.
Yena looked away as her heart raced. This wasn’t just a performance, but a declaration.
“It's go time,” the floor director whispered, hand to his earpiece.
The spotlight dimmed, and the crowd grew quiet.
Yena stepped forward, and the lights shifted into a range of different hues.
The intro swelled, soft strings cascading down like gentle rain. Fans murmured in awe. Cameras zoomed in as her figure stood still, bathed in blue starlight, framed by a midnight sky projected behind her.
🎵 132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuxiQRwa1wO
Don't try to make yourself remember, darling...132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUdYpxdoNlO
🎵
Her voice cut through the air like silk threaded with emotion. Notes rose and fell with precise tenderness, carrying both clarity and ache. The entire venue stilled—not out of politeness, but reverence.
Some of the staff backstage paused mid-task. The majority of the idols in the audience leaned closer, and even the Saja Boys remained still.
Every word poured out with intent, not just to impress, but to heal. To reinforce what the world had begun to lose. To push back against glamourized distraction and return to the heart of what idolhood meant.
🎵 132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLZJreWK6iU
난 더 흐릿해져도 괜찮아 (I don't mind becoming dimmer!) 132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJswD8WTvs6
🎵
The screen behind her faded into constellations pulsing gently in rhythm with her melody, and a faint ripple of energy shimmered through the crowd, brief, but real as it affected the Honmoon
And when the final note landed, "Everything goes on", the venue erupted in screams and thunderous applause.
The girls stood alongside many idols, who were truly amazed at the performance, giving a standing ovation. High above the cheering crowd, tucked into the velvet tiers reserved for elite performers, the Saja Boys sat like carved silhouettes against the ambient glow. Though they didn’t react, but were passive for their image. Surely, they wouldn't just casually appear to dislike it, so they remain neutral on Yena's song.
Jinu lounged with theatrical boredom, twirling his earring as if the applause below was personally offensive.
“Disgustingly strategic,” he muttered, watching the audience erupt around Yena’s final bow. “Like... angel vocals? A slow build? Is she trying to brainwash the crowd?”
Abby leaned back and scoffed. “Too hopeful. The fans ate it up like rice cakes, though. Like dazzled little sheep.”
Romance didn’t answer. He had been watching.
Now his gaze was fixed forward, unfocused, as if staring past the stage and into something he couldn’t quite shut out, because her voice wouldn’t leave.
Yena's high notes echoed through him like silk laced with gold, and it shouldn’t. It was laced with intent. Conviction. It was calibrated like a siren song, and Romance hated that it worked.
Jinu smirked, nudging Abby with an elbow. “Oh, and did you hear about the guy hosting tonight? That Oliver guy?”
Abby raised a brow. “The actor? He’s like an awkward little puppy on stage.”
Jinu leaned in, whispering loud enough to be overheard, “Rumor is he’s Yena’s ex or something close to it. They used to train under the same agency. Pretty cozy history.”
Romance blinked slowly, then turned his head once, just enough to cast them both a sideways glance that shut their voices down mid-snicker. Both of them shrugged with feigned innocence.
He said nothing, but his jaw flexed once and, in his mind, the final refrain of Yena’s song played back in sharp relief. He clenched his fist inside his pocket. It was ear candy, he had to admit it. Laced with a poison against demons, for her voice was true, and it was lethal to him.
132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsYErQYx9UQ
132Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3M7RrNBCcf
Yena stood backstage beneath a flurry of lighting corrections and stylists fluttering around her like moths to brilliance. Her new outfit shimmered—a floor-length cream evening dress, sleeveless with delicate crystal patterns stitched along the waist, catching the spotlight before she ever stepped under it. Her hair had been re-curled into soft waves and pinned delicately with the crystal rose clip returned to her only days before.
She took one steadying breath and walked toward the main stage with Oliver in tow.
By now, all the idols and soloists had gathered on the multi-tiered platforms behind the hosts. Huntrix were standing slightly left of center and across from them, the Saja Boys. They were relaxed. Poised like this was simply their destiny.
Oliver, positioned just beside her at the podium, wore a tailored navy tux with lapels. His smile was flawless. His charm is precise, but all Yena could hear was the pounding in her chest.
Each category was announced individually. Best Soloist, Best Dance Performance, Rising Star, Fan’s Choice. Trophies were handed off like whispers. Cheers and applause came and go, then came the final card.
The Grand Prize.
Artist of the Year.
Oliver raised the card slowly, drawing breath for suspense. The audience held its own. Yena tilted her chin, fingers laced lightly in front of her, praying.
As Oliver unfolded the card and smiled.
“Artist of the Year,” he announced, voice clear, amplified, inevitable. “...goes to—Saja Boys!”
The stadium roared.
Yena did not move. Her breath stopped, rewound, and folded neatly into silence. She didn’t flinch, not visibly. Just enough to feel the world twist beneath her heels. She side-glances at the girls, the look of disbelief and annoyance written in their expressions.
Her expression didn’t crack. It adjusted. A practiced smile, plastered on her face as she walked toward the Saja Boys, with the trophy in her grasp.
Romance emerged from the group to claim it.
His suit was white silk, somehow matching her. He looked polished yet dangerous. Yena handed over the trophy to him. She offered a bow of respect, something she was reluctant to do regardless.
Just as she did, Romance’s fingers brushed hers. Only minimal contact, but Yena's hands recoiled instantly. Her hand withdrew as though zapped by a shock of electricity.
Romance tilted his head as he smiled at her. Knowingly, not of the trophy but of her. He was testing to see how much push he needed for her to be caught in his web. He never realized how sinful she looked until up close and personal.
She stepped back with ceremonial poise, but her eyes snapped to his with warning—Stay in your lane, then she turned sharply, walking back to her girls with her spine straight, heels graceful.
As the final remarks were delivered, Yena’s polished smile with her elegant voice as she thanked the audience was broadcast without a hitch beside Oliver, both hosts bowing in unison beneath the sparkle of closing graphics and muted applause.
She made it look effortless, but once she stepped off that stage and slipped into the waiting room where the girls had gathered, the mask began to crack. The room was scattered with makeup wipes, half-open snack trays, and discarded heels. Mira was slumped on the armrest of the couch, Zoey halfway into her hoodie, Rumi quietly reviewing their post-show press schedule on her phone.
Zoey groaned. “We got robbed.”
“No lie,” Mira muttered. “They’ve been riding that stupid Soda Pop single for four days, and people still act like it’s revolutionary.”
“Feels like their popularity’s a plague,” Zoey added, flopping onto the couch. “Spreading too fast to contain.”
Rumi looked up calmly, adjusting the clip in her bangs. “Let them have their moment. This isn’t the last trophy.”
She turned to Yena, still dressed in her white hosting gown, seated quietly near the minibar.
“You agree, right?”
Yena didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze had drifted to her hand, fingers to be exact. The lingering feeling of his fingers brushing hers remains, even though it has been a long while.
"Yena?"
“Oh! sorry,” she said, blinking. “I… was distracted. What was the question?”
Rumi paused, then eyed her more closely. “You alright?”
Mira tilted her head. “You never spaced out before, you feeling okay?”
Zoey popped her gum dramatically. “Maybe it’s because she had to stand next to Oliver all night. Your old flame was surely bummed out of what he missed.”
Both Mira and Rumi shook their heads in tandem. “Don’t start,” Rumi warned under her breath.
Yena’s eyes narrowed, jaw twitching just slightly.
“We were over years ago,” she said briskly. “But it wasn’t him.”
That made the room go quiet. Zoey raised a brow. “...Then who?”
Mira leaned forward, catching the sudden shift in Yena’s tone.
Yena looked down at the bottle of water, and the soft buzz of the room seemed to muffle. Her fingers start fidgeting, unsure how to get out of this situation. She didn't know how to say the thoughts running thoughts in her head. She didn't answer yet, her silence said everything.
The room’s ambient warmth flickered beneath overhead fluorescents, soft music playing from Zoey’s phone speaker somewhere near the armrest, and a spread of half-eaten snacks crowding the low glass table between them. But for Yena, none of it registered clearly.
They were still looking at her. Waiting.
Mira crossed her arms, brow lifted. Rumi tilted her head just slightly—not judgmental, but intent. Zoey had leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Yena froze in fear. Her hand gripped the hem of her skirt, fingers itching beneath the fabric.
She couldn’t say it.
Romance—a demon, lingering in her thoughts like secondhand perfume. It wasn’t just humiliating, it was dangerous. Her whole life had been trained against manipulation, and yet, he slipped through like antique poetry.
Had her defense cracked? Had she failed herself?
Animals sense energy. And yours… echoes with mine somehow. She flinched at the memory.
“Yena?” Rumi asked again, her voice slicing through the spiral.
Yena blinked rapidly, swallowing the panic. “Sorry. I—um. Just exhaustion kicking in, I think.”
None of them bought it, but didn't push further on the topic.
Zoey shrugged and popped a caramel puff into her mouth, pivoting with casual grace. “Fine, fine. We won’t interrogate you into madness. Yet.”
Mira rolled her eyes. “She’ll spill eventually.”
Rumi gave a subtle, unreadable look before turning back to her phone.
Yena exhaled. Internally grateful. She didn’t know how to explain a truth that felt more like a confession. A truth she wanted to bury six layers deep inside her chest.
A knock. Perfectly timed with eerie precision.
They all turned as Bobby cracked open the door, poking his head inside with mild surprise. “Hey. Uh… Oliver’s here. He wants a minute with Yena.”
Mira groaned audibly.
Zoey nearly dropped her puff. “Oh no. Now he shows up?”
Yena stood. Composed yet cautious.
ns216.73.217.128da2
and then Add to home screen.