PHOENIX

Hyung?

Minjun stepped into the company building, the familiar scent of polished floors and faint echoes of trainee voices greeting him.

 It had become a routine by now—school in the morning, training in the afternoon. He greeted the staff with a polite nod as he walked by, exchanging brief pleasantries with a few.

As he made his way down the corridor, a group of trainees intercepted him. They looked at him with curious eyes, the kind that held questions they were hesitant to ask but couldn't resist.

"Hey, Minjun hyung," one of them finally spoke up, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "So, uh... do you know anything about that girl? You know, the one they say has purple-silver eyes?"

Minjun tensed, feeling a spark of irritation. 

He had anticipated this—questions about Evara were becoming more frequent. She was supposed to be a secret, a hidden gem within the company. Only a few trainees knew about her, and even then, details were kept vague.

 He was the only trainee allowed near her, an exception because of their shared fate in the Phoenix project.

"Yeah, I've heard about her," another trainee chimed in, leaning in closer. "Is it true that she's some kind of dance prodigy? They say she's better than most of us already."

Minjun's eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his tone neutral. "She's good," he replied, keeping it short.

 "But I have to go now." Without waiting for a response, he brushed past them and headed towards the practice room.

He was relieved when he finally reached the practice room. 

The door was slightly ajar, and as he pushed it open, he saw Evara in the middle of the room, absorbed in her own world. She was practicing a new dance move, her body moving with a fluid grace that left him in awe. 

It was true—she was far better than him, a natural in ways that both inspired and humbled him.

The trainers had stepped out for lunch, leaving the room quiet except for the soft sound of music playing from the speakers. 

Evara finally took a break, sitting down and catching her breath. Her eyes, those striking purple-silver eyes, were fixed on him. He knew that look by now; it meant she had a question.

Minjun walked over to her, raising an eyebrow. "go ahead," he said, his voice laced with curiosity.

She tilted her head slightly, her expression serious. "Why do all the other trainees call you 'hyung'?"

He blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected question. "Well, 'hyung' is a term used by younger ones to address older people," he explained, trying to keep it simple. "It shows respect."

Evara processed this, her gaze unwavering. "So, I should call you 'hyung' too, right?"

Minjun opened his mouth to correct her, to explain that 'hyung' was used only between males, but the words got stuck in his throat when she suddenly said, "Minjun hyung."

It was so absurd, so completely out of the blue, that he couldn't help it—he burst into laughter.

A deep, hearty laugh that echoed in the practice room, catching even him by surprise. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed this hard, if ever.

Evara watched him, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Why are you laughing?" she asked, genuinely puzzled. "Did I say something wrong?"

Minjun was laughing so hard that tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as the absurdity of the situation washed over him.