Blessing in Disguise

Chapter Seven

Yunjin

1/15/2018

Yunjin's transition to Pledis Entertainment was both exciting and overwhelming. Everything had changed again—the environment, the expectations, the intensity of her training. And with Produce 48 filming quickly approaching, Yunjin felt the pressure more than ever. She had always been hardworking, but this was a whole new level. Every day she pushed herself harder, throwing every ounce of energy she had into perfecting her dance routines, sharpening her vocals, and making sure she was always ready for evaluations. The trainers were strict, constantly watching with critical eyes, and the weight of their expectations hung over her like a dark cloud.

In those early days at Pledis, Yunjin felt like she was running on pure adrenaline. Each morning began early, with barely enough time to grab breakfast before she headed to the practice rooms. The air in those rooms was heavy with the sweat and determination of all the trainees who came before her, and it only motivated Yunjin more. There was no time to slow down, no space to rest. It was a relentless grind, but Yunjin thrived on the challenge.

She stayed long after the others had left, dancing until her legs ached and her muscles screamed for relief. But she didn't stop. The familiar sound of the practice room's worn floor beneath her feet became her soundtrack. She would go through routines again and again, sometimes long after the lights in the building had dimmed. When her body finally gave in, she'd collapse onto the floor, lying flat on her back as she tried to catch her breath, staring up at the mirrored ceiling and reminding herself of why she was there.

But as much as Yunjin tried to keep herself moving forward, the pressure was starting to take a toll. The exhaustion was creeping into every part of her life. She'd wake up each morning feeling as though she hadn't slept, her body weighed down by fatigue. Some days, her mind wandered back to her life before—the simple days in Albany, when the biggest worry she had was passing a test or winning a field hockey. And Y/N. He was always there in her thoughts, a constant presence no matter how far away he was.

They talked on the phone almost every night, sometimes just for a few minutes when Yunjin was too tired to form full sentences. But he always listened, his voice steady and reassuring on the other end of the line. It didn't matter that he was on the other side of the world; when they spoke, Yunjin felt like he was right there with her.

One evening, after a particularly brutal day of training, Yunjin found herself alone in the practice room again. Her dance instructor had pushed her harder than usual, calling out every tiny mistake, every slight misstep. Yunjin had felt the sting of disappointment in her voice and in herself. No matter how hard she tried, it never seemed like enough. She was drenched in sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead as she moved through the same routine for what felt like the hundredth time. But her feet kept stumbling, her mind too tired to focus.

She pushed herself through it, her muscles burning, her breath coming in ragged gasps. But she didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Her reflection in the mirror was blurred by exhaustion, but she kept dancing. She had to keep going.

Finally, when her legs couldn't carry her anymore, she fell to her knees, gasping for air. The silence of the practice room surrounded her, and for the first time in a long while, Yunjin felt completely alone. The weight of everything crashed down on her, and her chest tightened as tears prickled at her eyes.

Before she could stop herself, she reached for her phone. Her hands were shaking as she dialed Y/N's number, holding the phone tightly to her ear as it rang. She closed her eyes, hoping—no, needing—to hear his voice.

He picked up after the second ring, his familiar voice flooding through the phone. "Hey, Jen."

Yunjin's breath hitched in her throat at the sound of his voice. She hadn't realized just how much she missed him until that moment. "Y/N," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I don't know if I can do this."

There was a pause on the other end, and Yunjin could almost picture him, sitting up straight, concern etched into his features. "What happened?"

"I'm just... tired," she admitted, her voice small. "It's so much, Y/N. I'm trying so hard, but it feels like I'm never enough. I don't know how much longer I can keep going like this."

Y/N's voice was calm, steady. "Jen, listen to me. You're one of the strongest people I know. You're already doing so much more than anyone could ask of you. But you need to take care of yourself too."

Yunjin wiped at her eyes, her hand trembling. "I don't know how."

"Yes, you do," he replied. "You've always known how to balance everything, and you're not alone in this. You've got me, and you've got your friends there. Lean on them, Jen."

She let his words sink in, feeling the tension in her chest ease just slightly. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," he said softly. "But I'm always here. And you're going to get through this. You've already come so far. Just take it one day at a time."

Yunjin let out a shaky breath, her grip on the phone tightening. "Thank you."

"That's what I'm here for," Y/N said, his voice filled with warmth. "I believe in you, Jen."

After they hung up, Yunjin sat in the quiet practice room, the phone still clutched in her hand. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her chest rising and falling with each breath. The exhaustion was still there, but so was the determination.

She wasn't doing this alone.

The next morning, she arrived at the practice room, her body still aching from the day before. But this time, when the trainers pushed her, she didn't let it break her. She focused on the music, on the movements, on why she was here. It wasn't just for her anymore—it was for the people who believed in her. For Y/N, for her family, for herself.

But the intensity didn't go unnoticed by the other trainees. Yunjin's new training mate, Lee Gaeun, had been watching her from the sidelines, concern growing with every passing day. Gaeun had been in the industry long enough to recognize when someone was pushing themselves too far. She admired Yunjin's dedication, but it had started to scare her.

One evening, Gaeun lingered near the doorway of the practice room, watching as Yunjin rehearsed. Her movements were sharp, precise, but there was a desperation in them that Gaeun recognized all too well. She watched as Yunjin faltered, catching herself before she stumbled again. Her body was clearly exhausted, yet she refused to stop.

Gaeun stepped forward, her voice hesitant. "Yunjin?"

Yunjin didn't seem to hear her at first, too focused on the routine. But after a few moments, she turned, breathless and dazed. "Oh... Gaeun-unnie. Sorry, I didn't see you."

Gaeun smiled softly, though worry clouded her eyes. "You've been staying late a lot. Are you okay?"

Yunjin wiped the sweat from her forehead, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. Just trying to get better."

Gaeun hesitated, unsure how to approach the subject without pushing too hard. "You know... you don't have to do this alone. We're all here for you."

Yunjin nodded, her smile faltering slightly. "I know. It's just... I have to keep going."

Later that night, Gaeun overheard Yunjin on the phone, speaking in a low, tired voice. The name "Y/N" caught her attention, and for the first time, Gaeun realized that Yunjin had someone she leaned on, someone who helped her through the darkest moments.

It was only the next day when Yunjin opened up to Gaeun about him, about the boy she'd left behind in New York. Gaeun could see the love and gratitude in Yunjin's eyes as she spoke, and for the first time, Gaeun understood just how much strength Yunjin drew from those phone calls. It wasn't just about the training or the competition—it was about the people who believed in her.

That realization grounded Yunjin, helping her push through the final stretch before Produce 48 filming began. It wasn't easy, but with Y/N's support and the friends she had made along the way, she found the strength to keep going.