WINRINA ONESHOTS

SECRET ADMIRER

Jimin had always known the grind. The never-ending schedules, the packed rehearsals, the countless hours spent fine-tuning her voice and performances—this was her life as a solo artist. And she loved it, truly. She lived for the spotlight, the thunderous applause, the feeling of connecting with people through her music. But still, there was an emptiness she couldn’t shake. It had been there for as long as she could remember, a dull ache that no amount of success could soothe.

That evening, as she scrolled through her phone after another exhausting day, a post caught her eye.

Minjeong, live in concert tonight!

Minjeong—Winter. She’d heard the name countless times, seen her face plastered on billboards, heard snippets of her songs on the radio, but never really stopped to listen. Jimin was always so wrapped up in her own career, her own music, that she hadn’t made time for anyone else. But tonight, something was different. She lingered on the post, staring at Minjeong’s ethereal photo, something about it tugging at her.

A strange impulse took over.

“Why not?” she murmured to herself, surprising even her own thoughts. She didn’t have plans, and for once, she felt the pull to do something spontaneous.

Before she knew it, Jimin had bought a ticket. She kept her hood low, her sunglasses on as she arrived at the venue. It was packed—people buzzing with excitement, fans screaming Minjeong’s name, their energy electrifying the air. Jimin found her seat in the back, far enough that she wouldn’t be noticed but still close enough to feel the vibrations of the crowd.

As the lights dimmed and the stage illuminated, Jimin’s breath caught in her throat.

There she was.

Minjeong stood under the spotlight, a single beam of soft light bathing her in a surreal glow. She looked almost dreamlike, her figure delicate yet commanding, her eyes scanning the crowd as if searching for something—or someone. Jimin felt a strange flutter in her chest.

Then, Minjeong began to sing.

The moment the first note left her lips, Jimin was completely captivated. It wasn’t just her voice—it was the way Minjeong poured herself into every word, every lyric carrying weight and emotion, weaving through the air like a spell. Her voice was hauntingly beautiful, delicate yet strong, like a whisper that could cut through the silence.

Jimin’s fingers tightened around the edge of her seat. She’d seen countless performers, had been one herself for years, but she had never experienced something quite like this. Minjeong wasn’t just singing; she was feeling, and through her, Jimin could feel too.

Her eyes traced Minjeong’s movements on stage—the subtle way she swayed, the small, almost imperceptible gestures that spoke volumes. It was as if Minjeong was telling a story with her body, inviting the audience into her world. The way her hands reached out toward the crowd, the softness in her gaze as if she was sharing something secret, something personal.

Jimin’s heart raced, her pulse syncing with the beat of the music. Every time Minjeong hit a high note, it sent shivers down her spine. Every time her voice dipped into something soft, it felt like a whisper against Jimin’s skin.

For the entire duration of the concert, Jimin was utterly spellbound. She barely blinked, afraid that if she looked away, the magic would vanish. The performance felt like a dream, something ethereal and unattainable, and yet there it was—right in front of her.

When the final note rang out and the lights dimmed once again, Jimin sat frozen in her seat, her heart still hammering in her chest. The crowd erupted into wild applause, people screaming Minjeong’s name, but Jimin could barely hear them. All she could think about was the way Minjeong’s voice had wrapped around her, the way her presence had filled the room, leaving no space for anything else.