The air was neither too warm nor too cool, settling comfortably at a perfect seventy degrees. The Eclipse dorm was eerily silent, a peaceful stillness Aerin knew she could take advantage of before the clamor of her lively members roused from their slumber. She stepped outside, embracing the solitude, her only company the sound of her own breath as she wandered beneath the early morning sky.
Though running was never her thing—never had been, never would be—something about the new athletic wear she'd bought whispered a tempting challenge.
By the time she returned to the dorm, slightly out of breath but invigorated, Aerin was greeted by an unsettling sight. Her members were gathered in the living room, their manager included, sitting as though awaiting her arrival in some kind of cult-like formation. Worse still, the moment she stepped inside, their heads all turned toward her in perfect unison.
What in the world? Is this some kind of choreography?
She froze, slipping off her shoes with an awkwardness that only seemed to draw their gaze further. Her heart raced as she sank into the empty spot on the couch, feeling all too exposed beneath their intense stares.
"You guys are being a bit weirder than usual. What's going on?" Aerin tried to sound casual, though her mind raced, trying to piece together the reason for their unsettling attention. None came to mind.
The leader, who had been anxiously tapping her foot, seemed to relax slightly as the others diverted their gaze—some to their manager, others to the floor, or to the hems of their shirts—breaking the tension, though only a little.
Then, a sigh from Manager Yoo cut through the silence, carrying with it a note of boredom that immediately had Aerin's full attention. She held her breath, bracing herself for what came next.
"Aerin, explain." Manager Yoo's voice was sharp as she turned an iPad toward Aerin, revealing the source of the problem.
Aerin's heart dropped to her stomach as she read the article displayed before her. Weeks into their debut, and now rumors were swirling that she was involved in a relationship—with her literal cousin? Oh, how serene and peaceful this would be—if only sarcasm could be seen through words.
Her eyes flickered up to meet Manager Yoo's, who was waiting expectantly. The tension in the air was palpable.
"I—I can't believe this." Aerin's voice faltered, her mind struggling to comprehend the absurdity of it all. Whoever had taken the photo had clearly done so from an absurd angle with high-level camera equipment. How could paparazzi be so far ahead of the game?
But beyond the disbelief, guilt gnawed at Aerin's insides. One scandal, one misstep, and it could all come crashing down. If she, as a leader, couldn't even shield her group from the consequences of such a rumor, was she truly fit to lead?
"I'm not dating Jih—Woozi," Aerin finally managed to spit out, her voice rising in frustration. "He's my cousin."
The room fell into shocked silence. Eyes wide, mouths slightly agape, her members stared at her in disbelief, while Aerin just sat there, awkwardly smiling in a way that felt almost foreign. Oh, how the tables had turned.
Later, as Aerin attempted to drown herself in her work, she was interrupted by Hyunjae, who, though mildly annoyed, entered the studio with a look that seemed a little too distant.
"Rin... please come out. You haven't left your studio all day. Something's up?" Hyunjae's voice, though firm, carried an edge that Aerin couldn't quite place. Was it concern—or something else?
Reluctantly, Aerin removed her headphones and spun in her chair to face her younger member, the dim lighting of the studio casting long shadows across her face. She'd always preferred the darkness—it felt like a shield, something Hyunjae might not understand.
Hyunjae sat down on the couch, her posture too poised, too controlled. Aerin noticed how her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her gaze shifting subtly as though calculating. Was it just her, or was Hyunjae's usual warmth replaced by something colder today?
"I won't push you, but you know I'm here for you," Hyunjae said, though the words didn't reach Aerin the same way they normally did.
Aerin sighed, trying to shake off the odd feeling creeping up on her. The weight of the rumors still hung over her, heavy in her chest, and she felt herself unraveling. She spoke quickly, the words tumbling out of her mouth in an anxious rush. "I know the statement was released today, but we're already getting backlash, and it's all because of me, and I just—"
Hyunjae cut her off with a soft, almost deliberate, "Hey, we're fine. You didn't confirm anything. It was just a handshake."
Aerin glanced up at Hyunjae, her brow furrowing. That wasn't quite what she expected to hear. Usually, Hyunjae was more reassuring, more personal in her support. Yet today, there was something too detached about her words.
"You know we all hate when you put unnecessary guilt on yourself," Hyunjae continued, but this time Aerin noticed the smallest flicker of something in her eyes—something unreadable. It didn't escape her that Hyunjae had phrased the sentence as if she was the one annoyed by Aerin's self-blame.
Aerin's unease deepened, but she didn't let it show. She let herself sink into Hyunjae's embrace, more out of instinct than comfort.
They sat there in silence, and though Aerin tried to fight back her tears, she felt them slipping free—betraying her—before she could stop them. She was so used to being the strong one, the leader who carried the weight of the group. It was hard to let go, even with Hyunjae holding her.
"I made tea," Hyunjae said, breaking the silence, her voice soft and a touch too calm. "Drink it—it'll help."
Aerin hesitated for a moment, unsure whether the offer was genuine. She took the cup from Hyunjae's hands, though she couldn't shake the feeling that the younger girl was watching her too closely. Every movement, every word, felt too deliberate, too controlled.
The tea was warm, and for a moment, Aerin allowed herself to let go of the tension. But as she drank, she couldn't help but wonder: Was Hyunjae truly on her side—or was there something more at play?
