"Yeah, I'm on my way," Aerin muttered into her phone, her cousin Jihoon's frantic tone still ringing in her ears.
"It'll be fine. Don't overthink it," he assured, though his clipped tone suggested he didn't believe it himself.
"Uh-huh, sure, whatever you say, Woozers." She smirked, knowing the nickname would get under his skin.
There was a pause, then a low growl from his end of the line. "You're impossible," he hissed before abruptly hanging up.
"Guess Mr. Grump Grump finally had enough," she chuckled, tossing her phone onto her bed. With a sigh, she turned back to her closet, staring at the chaos of fabrics and colors. After thirty wasted minutes of "rotting"—and with her hair now air-dried into semi-respectable waves—she forced herself to pick something.
"Alright, Rin, focus," she said, psyching herself up. Jihoon was lucky she didn't have a packed schedule today, though she suspected he'd timed this favor on purpose.
As she slipped on her chosen outfit—a stylish yet practical ensemble—she caught herself in the mirror, making a ridiculous number of poses to confirm she looked presentable.
"Okay, calm down. You're not here to impress anyone," she muttered, but her heart skipped at the thought of who she might encounter. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her bag and bolted for the door.
. . .
The sheer size of the building was enough to make her falter.
"Holy..." Aerin stopped herself, craning her neck to take in the sleek, glass-paneled tower. This is a lot, she thought, feeling distinctly out of place.
As she approached the reception desk, her fingers itched to pull out her phone—a convenient prop to feign confidence. Instead, she forced herself to step forward. "Hi, um, could you point me to the Seventeen waiting room?" she asked, her voice a little too soft.
The receptionist's warm smile caught her off guard. "Are you Ms. Kang Aerin?"
"Oh, uh... yeah?" She blinked in surprise, silently thanking Jihoon for actually following through and notifying the staff.
"Right this way." The woman gestured for her to follow, and Aerin tried not to cringe at the formality. She wasn't anyone important, but it seemed easier to just go along with it.
When the door opened, Aerin found herself face-to-face with an unnervingly tall, strikingly handsome man whose expression shifted from surprise to mild suspicion. She froze, momentarily caught in the intensity of his gaze.
"Uh, hi. I'm here to drop something off for Woo—"
"Rin!" Jihoon's familiar voice broke the tension, and Aerin exhaled in relief. She leaned around the man blocking the doorway to spot her cousin lounging at a table.
"Hey, Ji," she greeted, sliding past the tall stranger with an awkward bow. She kept her eyes firmly on the floor, avoiding the curious stares of the other men in the room.
She tossed a small flash drive to Jihoon, who caught it with ease. "You're lucky I decided to waste my perfectly free day on this," she said, her voice dripping with mock irritation.
"Yeah, yeah, you're a saint," Jihoon replied with a grin. "Thanks."
Their bickering was interrupted by a loud, deliberate cough. Aerin turned to see the other members of Seventeen staring at her, curiosity etched on their faces.
"Who's she?" one of them asked, stepping forward with an air of authority.
Before Aerin could stammer out a response, Jihoon intervened. "This is Aerin. She's a producer."
Her eyes widened slightly as murmurs rippled through the group. She hadn't expected Jihoon to advertise her credentials, but there was no backing out now.
"Wait, you're the Aerin? The one who helped with 'Still Lonely' and 'Lean on Me'?" one of them exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement.
"Uh... yeah?" Aerin offered a sheepish smile.
"You're amazing!" the same member gushed, and she could feel the weight of their attention like a spotlight.
"Thanks," she muttered, casting a desperate look at Jihoon, who was thoroughly enjoying her discomfort.
Before she could retreat, another member—the tall one who had opened the door—stepped closer. There was something familiar about him, though she couldn't place it.
"You should stay and watch our rehearsal," he said, his tone even but his gaze intent.
Aerin hesitated. The suggestion seemed to surprise the other members as much as it did her. Against her better judgment, she found herself nodding. "Sure, I have a little time."
As the performance began, Aerin sat on the couch, trying to remain invisible. But her eyes couldn't leave the screen. Their energy, synchronization, and charisma were magnetic. Despite her reservations, she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for Jihoon.
Her alarm jolted her out of her daydreaming, reminding her of her next appointment. As she slipped out of the waiting room, blending into the crowd of staff, a firm hand caught her wrist.
She turned, ready to deliver a sharp retort, but froze when she saw him—the same tall member from before. His gaze was piercing, his expression unreadable.
"What exactly is your relationship with Jihoon?" he asked, his voice low but steady.
Aerin blinked, caught off guard. She had no idea what kind of answer he was expecting—or why her heart was suddenly racing.
