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Chapter 1

The lights above the practice room flickered, casting a harsh glow on the polished floor. The sound of shoes scraping against it echoed through the space as [Y/N] wiped the sweat from her brow, taking a deep breath. The hours seemed to blur together, and the ticking clock on the wall became nothing more than background noise. In this world, every second counted, and time wasn't waiting for anyone.

She adjusted her ponytail and glanced around at the other trainees, each one focused on their movements, driven by the same relentless goal: to become stars. Some were exhausted, others were fully immersed in the rhythm, but all of them were fighting for the same thing—recognition.

For [Y/N], this dream was more than just a desire. It was the culmination of a lifetime of struggles and sacrifices, and it wasn't just her fight. She wasn't doing this alone. Growing up in a group home with siblings, some older, some younger, had taught her that family wasn't defined by blood. It wasn't about where you came from, but how you loved and supported each other. She'd never seen her foster siblings as anything less than her brothers and sisters. They had all been through so much together—the late nights when they had to help each other with homework, the frustration of staying in when they wanted to go out, the shared joy of small victories and the inevitable fights.

Despite not being her biological family, they had been there for her in the ways that mattered most. They cared for her when she came home late, cheered her on when she succeeded, and were there when she stumbled. They taught her that love doesn't need to be tied to genetics—it's about connection, and she'd learned early that what made a family wasn't always what you were born into.

Her foster family had been there for her through thick and thin, but now, standing in front of the mirrors, [Y/N] had to face a new reality. This wasn't just about the support of her siblings anymore. This was about her—her own journey.

She glanced at the other trainees. They were all driven by the same dream, but it felt different for her. Maybe it was because, unlike many of them, she had never compared herself to anyone else. She didn't need to be like her classmates growing up, nor did she need to follow anyone's expectations. She had already learned that everyone has their own path, and hers led here—into this moment, on the verge of something big.

The music started again, snapping her back to the present. Her body moved with the beat, but no matter how hard she tried, there was that familiar knot in her stomach.

"Focus, [Y/N]," her trainer's voice broke through her thoughts. "Don't just go through the motions. Show us the star you're meant to be."

The star she was meant to be. The words hung in the air like a weight she could barely carry. Was she ready? She had always dreamed of this, worked so hard for it—but was it enough?

For a moment, she felt the familiar doubt creeping in, but she shook it off. She could do this. She had learned to face the world head-on, to believe in herself when no one else did. Her past had taught her that no matter where she came from, she could fight for her place. She wasn't alone in this.

The music soared, and with it, she pushed her doubts aside. There was only one thing left to do: prove to the world, and to herself, that she was ready.

The song came to a halt, and the room went silent, the echoes of their final steps still lingering in the air. [Y/N] stood still, trying to catch her breath, her heart hammering in her chest. Her body was sore from the relentless practice, but she couldn't let herself falter. Not now.

"Alright," the trainer said, his voice cool but encouraging as he addressed the group. "That was better, [Y/N]. You've improved."

The words caught her by surprise. She hadn't expected praise, not when she still felt so far from where she wanted to be. But her trainer wasn't one to give empty compliments. He rarely smiled, but when he did, it meant something.

"Good job," he continued, eyeing the rest of the trainees. "You're getting closer. But, [Y/N], you need more confidence. Keep working at it."

She nodded, her mind racing. I'm getting better. I can do this.

But just as she began to relax, she overheard a conversation from two of the other trainees, both girls who had always made her feel a little out of place in this competitive environment.

"Did you see that?" one of the girls, Minji, whispered to the other, her voice dripping with a tone that was just loud enough for [Y/N] to hear. "She's still so stiff. Like, she's trying too hard to 'look' like a star but just isn't."

The other girl, Jiwon, giggled, flicking her hair back as if to emphasize her words. "Yeah, it's almost like she's trying to be something she's not. I'm surprised the trainer even said she's improving."

Minji's eyes flickered toward [Y/N] for a moment, then she smirked. "Maybe he's just being nice. But honestly, if she wants to make it, she needs to loosen up. She can't keep hiding behind her nerves forever."

The words stung, but [Y/N] didn't let them show. She had heard worse before, and these girls—no matter how harsh their words—weren't the ones she had to prove herself to. It wasn't their validation she needed.

But still, their words crawled under her skin like tiny needles, doubt prickling at the edges of her resolve. Maybe they're right. Maybe I'll never be good enough.

"[Y/N], you're improving," the trainer repeated, his voice breaking through her spiraling thoughts. "You just need more confidence. Keep working at it."

[Y/N] blinked, focusing on his words. Confidence—it was always about confidence, wasn't it? Maybe the trainer saw something in her that the others didn't. She could feel it. She was improving. No matter what Minji and Jiwon said, she could do this. She just had to trust in herself.

With a small, determined smile, she straightened up, wiping her hands on her pants as she prepared for the next round of practice.

"I can do this," she whispered to herself, more for reassurance than anything else.