Chapter 9 part2 — Thin Walls, Sharper Eyes
The room was quiet.
Not the peaceful kind—
the uncomfortable kind, where silence presses against your ears and makes every breath feel loud.
Lee sat on his bed, his back straight, his gaze fixed on Yan. Yan leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, eyes lowered, pretending the other person didn't exist.
It didn't last.
"I can't read you," Lee said suddenly.
Yan didn't look up. "Then don't."
Lee studied him, slow and unblinking. "Your eyes don't match your face."
Yan frowned. "What does that even mean?"
"It means," Lee replied calmly, "you're not as empty as you pretend to be."
Yan finally met his gaze. His voice was flat. "That's none of your business."
Lee didn't argue. He just nodded slightly, as if confirming something for himself.
"Your performance," Lee continued. "That wasn't luck."
Yan's jaw tightened. "Here we go."
"You controlled your breath too well," Lee said. "Your pitch didn't shake. And your timing—" He paused. "That's not something amateurs have."
Yan clicked his tongue, irritation slipping through. "Are you interrogating me now?"
"I'm observing," Lee corrected.
Yan pushed off the wall. "Then observe this: I'm tired. I don't want to talk."
Lee ignored that completely. "You said you couldn't sing."
"I said I wasn't confident," Yan snapped. "There's a difference."
Lee leaned forward slightly. "I've heard your voice before."
That made Yan stop.
"…What?"
Lee's eyes narrowed. "I don't remember where. But it wasn't tonight."
Yan stared at him for a moment, then scoffed. "You're imagining things."
"Maybe," Lee said. "But I'm rarely wrong."
Yan exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. "You're annoying."
Lee accepted that without reaction.
After a pause, Yan spoke again, quieter. "Why do you care so much?"
Lee answered instantly. "Because people who lie badly are dangerous."
Yan laughed once, humorless. "Then what about you?"
Lee didn't blink. "What about me?"
"You dance like it's muscle memory," Yan said. "Not practice. Memory." He looked directly at him now. "You were trained long before this show."
Silence stretched.
"And," Yan added, "the judges keep watching you."
Lee's expression hardened slightly. "So you noticed."
"They look worried," Yan said. "Why?"
Lee leaned back. "Because I'm outperforming expectations."
"That's arrogant."
"It's accurate."
Yan frowned. "They're your mentors."
"I respect their skill," Lee replied. "But I won't pretend they don't fear being replaced." His voice was steady. "If I keep improving, I'll take their seats one day."
Yan stared at him, unsettled. "You shouldn't say things like that so casually."
Lee shrugged. "Truth doesn't need permission."
Yan looked away. "You're insane."
Lee let that pass. Then, softly, "You're not twenty-four."
Yan froze.
"You're twenty-seven," Lee continued. "Your posture gives it away. The way you listen. You've been in rooms where silence mattered."
Yan's voice was controlled. "And you?"
Lee tilted his head. "Twenty-nine."
Yan's eyes flicked back. "So you know."
"I assumed," Lee said. "Then confirmed."
"Why lie?" Yan asked.
Lee's gaze drifted to the ceiling. "Age changes how people see you. Talent becomes secondary."
Yan was quiet for a moment. Then, tiredly, "Can't we just survive here and do our work?"
Lee looked at him. "You're asking for peace?"
"I'm asking for sleep," Yan replied. "You're exhausting."
Lee paused. "Did you say something just now?"
Yan lay down on his bed and turned his back. "No."
Lee watched him for a second, then spoke calmly. "If you're done hiding, fine."
Yan didn't respond.
Lee stood, walked toward the small table between their beds, and picked up a packet of snacks someone had left there earlier.
Yan cracked one eye open. "What are you doing?"
Lee didn't answer.
Yan sighed, sat up slightly, took one piece from the packet—and without thinking, pushed it toward Lee's mouth.
"Eat," Yan said. "Maybe you'll talk less."
Lee blinked.
Then, slowly, he accepted it.
"…Good," Lee admitted after a second.
Yan lay back down. "Now go sleep."
Lee looked at him. "You're ordering me now?"
"Yes," Yan said, already closing his eyes. "And let me sleep too."
Lee stared at him for a long moment.
Then he turned off the light.
The room fell silent again.
This time, it wasn't uncomfortable.