The screams were deafening.
Onstage, the rookie group taking the industry by storm—Loverboyz—performed their newest hit, My Drip, at the Winter Festival.
When the song ended, the camera zoomed in on a chiseled, fox-like man whose beauty was striking even by idol standards.
The crowd erupted—louder, wild, unrestrained.
In the waiting room, five women dressed entirely in black stared at the monitor.
"Wow," Miyeon breathed.
"Be careful," Dana warned immediately.
"He's just really attractive," Miyeon protested.
"I know. But men and women shouldn't even look at each other—we're idols," Dana said, tone sharp and matter-of-fact.
"Exactly," Najiko agreed. "We need to avoid any kind of scandal while we're still solidifying our place in the industry."
Dahira didn't respond. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen.
Wasn't he in the pre-debut lineup with Kai?
He looked different now—older, sharper, undeniably handsome.
"Dahira." Dana's voice snapped her attention back.
She looked up.
"Don't show too much interest."
Dahira raised a brow. "Then what's the point of watching the monitor?"
Miyeon smirked. "See? Even Dahira agrees."
"But—"
"Don't you guys recognize him?" Dahira cut in.
All five girls stared harder at the screen.
"No?" Miyeon blinked.
Dahira resisted the urge to slap her forehead.
Of course they never met him. And no—you're never telling them the full story. Not unless you trust them that deeply.
When she first debuted, she used any excuse to hang near the boys' training wing—hoping to glimpse Kai. But instead of Kai, she saw someone else.
Him.
Junho.
Back then he looked young—boyish almost. Cute, good-looking, but still soft around the edges. Kai had stood out more.
But now?
Now his dark hair was dyed white. His jaw was sharper. His presence felt heavier.
He didn't look like the boy she once observed—he looked like a man.
"Do you recognize him, unnie?" Coco asked.
Dahira hesitated. "I've never met him, but… he used to train at our company. I just didn't expect to recognize him."
Her members nodded.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Miyeon asked.
"What do you mean?" Dahira blinked.
"Well—" Miyeon faltered, searching for words. "Why didn't you tell us someone like that trained with us?"
Dahira smiled. "Back then, he was just a teen with soft features. He didn't look anything like he does now. I mean—come on, isn't he hot?"
The girls stared at the screen again.
Coco squinted. "Was he one of the members in that boy group the company planned—but canceled?"
Dana gasped. "Wait—was he supposed to debut with Rowan?"
Dahira made a finger gun and fired dramatically. "Bingo."
"Seriously?!" Najiko nearly shouted.
They all remembered the rumors: a pre-debut boy group rumored to be too attractive and too talented.
Rowan Park had gone to another company instead—and was now one of ARCADE's most viral members.
And now another former member—Junho—was debuting and taking over the industry.
It felt unreal.
"Wow," Miyeon whispered as Junho belted a high note flawlessly. "He's good."
Coco leaned forward. "I wonder what the rest were like."
"You mean his current members?" Najiko asked.
"No—the trainees from that canceled lineup," Coco clarified. "People said they were all insanely good-looking and talented."
Dahira exhaled.
I've met one. Kai. And he wasn't just handsome—he won the good genes lottery!
"Guys," Dana muttered, crossing her arms, eyes still glued to the screen, "stop gawking. We're idols."
Onstage, Junho lifted his head, sweat sliding along his jaw as he flashed a devastating half-smile at the audience.
The screams doubled—shaking the waiting room walls.
Najiko pointed at the screen. "I bet if he weren't an idol–he'd be a playboy."
Coco shook her head softly. "He's better looking the female group that performed."
Dana hushed her.
The song ended, and the monitor switched back to the MCs.
The girls finally tore their attention away—though reluctantly.
Dahira realized her heartbeat still hadn't calmed.
Dang! Am I simping over Junho right now?
Najiko nudged her. "It makes sense why you recognized him."
The room went quiet. The members stared at her.
Dahira smirked and flipped her long hair. "Of course I would."
Miyeon laughed. "Remember when we met Y2Y? They are all exceptionally handsome. And you didn't even blink. This is the first time I've seen you react to a boy. You must've been disappointed when his debut got canceled."
Dahira wet her lips, leaning back as she crossed her arms. "I was disappointed," she admitted.
Not because of him… but because someone I cared about was supposed to debut.
Dana clapped her hands once, sharply.
"Okay. Enough. We're idols—we can't meet them. And even if we could? Our schedules are way too packed."
A knock at the waiting-room door cut her off. A staff member poked her head inside.
"Les Fleurs," she called. "Get ready to perform."
Miyeon grinned. Dana straightened. Najiko stiffened.
Dahira's pulse spiked.
"Okay, guys! Let's go!" Dana said, taking the lead.
The hallway was quiet except for the faint echo of staff rushing somewhere behind them.
Les Fleurs walked in a neat line—heads high, expressions composed—until they turned a corner.
Loverboyz stood there.
Junho paused mid-step, sweat still clinging to his jaw from the performance. The white hair, the sharp gaze, the confidence—he looked even more unreal up close.
For a brief second, no one moved.
Miyeon's breath caught. Coco straightened subconsciously. Najiko's hand froze on her water bottle.
Dahira didn't blink.
Junho's gaze flickered—only for a heartbeat—landing right on her.
A polite idol smile curved onto his lips.
"Hello," he said, bowing lightly.
Dana bowed back first. "Good work."
The rest followed—controlled, practiced.
Junho's members bowed as well, though a few couldn't help stealing subtle glances at Les Fleurs—surprised by how stunning they were up close.
As both groups started to pass, Junho slowed—just barely—close enough that Dahira caught the faint mix of expensive cologne and post-stage adrenaline clinging to him.
"Good stage," she murmured—without thinking.
Loverboyz stiffened in surprise for half a second.
Dahira only smiled—bright and effortless, as if she hadn't just broken an unspoken boundary.
"Thank you," Hyun-woo, the leader, replied with a polite but impressed tone.
Junho's gaze locked onto hers. A quick smile—short, sharp, and undeniably charming—flashed across his face.
"We look forward to your performance," he said.
Then—like nothing happened—they continued walking.
No one spoke.
No one breathed right.
Not until the groups were far enough apart to pretend they hadn't just slipped into fan behavior.
Then—
"OH. My. GOSH."
Miyeon whisper-screamed.
Dana immediately jabbed her in the ribs. "Shh. We are idols."
But even Dana's ears were pink.
Backstage, chaos took over instantly as stylists and staff surrounded them—fixing microphones, adjusting hair, reapplying powder.
Najiko scanned the performance list taped to the wall—then gasped.
"What?" Dahira asked, brows furrowing.
Najiko pointed. Her voice was barely a whisper—but full panic.
"ARCADE performs after us."
Dana slid in her earpiece calmly. "You didn't know?"
Najiko slowly shook her head. "Of course not!"
Dana hummed. "I assumed that's why you were nervous earlier."
"That's because I'm always nervous," Najiko snapped softly, already shaking. "We can't mess up. If we look sloppy in front of ARCADE and Loverboyz, we're doomed."
"Have some pride, Najiko-unnie," Miyeon said, adjusting her bracelet. "We're the sunbaenim."
Najiko stared at her. "Being older does NOT matter when ARCADE is basically Korea's favorite sons."
Coco raised her hand timidly. "I'm kind of nervous too… Every group who performs near them ends up going viral—not for talent, but for looking boring in comparison."
Dana stepped forward, steady and confident.
"That won't be us," she said firmly. "We're not rookies. We're not average. Our songs chart. Our performances trend. Fans love us because we always deliver."
The group fell silent—then nodded.
"Les Fleurs! Move to standby—you're entering in one minute," a staff member called.
"Yes!" Dana responded immediately.
They followed the staff down the corridor, the roar of the audience growing louder.
"Now for our next performance…"
Their nerves spiked—but posture stayed perfect.
Dana glanced at them one last time. "We've worked for this. Let's show them why we're here."
"Mic check?" she asked quickly.
"All good," Dahira answered.
Najiko and Coco gave thumbs-up. Miyeon nodded.
"Earpieces?"
Confirmed.
Dana exhaled.
The MCs lifted their cards—and the crowd swelled.
"Please welcome… LES FLEURS!"
The cheers were explosive—louder than for Loverboyz.
With elegance, confidence, and the unmistakable aura of established idols, Les Fleurs stepped onto the stage—smiling at their roaring fans.
In that moment, every doubt vanished.
They belonged here.
And everyone watching knew it.
–
"I'm getting too tired. I should've married a rich man—why did I marry for love?"
An elegant woman sighed dramatically, not a single hair out of place in her pristine ponytail.
"I want to marry someone rich too," the other woman said, shorter but wearing the same uniform. "But I love my boyfriend too much."
Both worked at one of Seoul's most luxurious restaurants—where only the wealthy, and occasionally celebrities, could afford to eat. Their hair was styled neatly into a low bun and ponytail, red lipstick flawless, black blazers crisp over fitted skirts and white blouses.
"Trust me," Ponytail whispered, leaning closer. "I married for love too. And let me tell you—love isn't like dramas. It doesn't always last. Might as well marry rich and fall in love after—"
Her sentence stopped mid-air.
Low Bun followed her gaze toward the entrance—and froze.
A towering man with a striking physique and razor-sharp features walked in. His steps were confident, almost model-like, commanding the room without trying.
"Hello," he said, voice deep and quietly seductive. "Reservation under Haerin."
Silence.
"Uh—yes! Right this way," Low Bun stammered, instantly straightening her posture. She gestured for him to follow.
As she walked ahead, she exchanged a quick glance with Ponytail.
One message: He's unreal.
She led him toward the private section reserved only for elite clients and public figures.
Actor? Model? Athlete?
I'm absolutely Googling him later, she thought, sneaking a glance over her shoulder.
He met her eyes.
She immediately turned forward, ears burning.
Late twenties? Early thirties? Definitely rich. No normal person books that room.
Reaching the final door, she bowed and opened it.
"Please enter."
The door closed behind him.
Inside, the private room gleamed with polished marble floors, warm lighting, and an elegant hand-carved table.
Waiting gracefully was a woman known across South Korea—snow-white skin, soft features, delicate shoulders exposed by an elegant white tank top.
Haerin.
Singer. Actress. Nation's sweetheart.
Byoungho immediately bowed deeper than necessary. "I apologize for arriving late."
Haerin smiled, eyes curving like crescents. "You're actually thirty minutes early. I just had a meeting before this."
He sat across from her.
Most people hesitated or fumbled around Haerin, swallowed by her reputation and fragile beauty.
But this man—
Haerin blinked once.
He can hold eye contact.
That calm gaze, paired with his imposing presence, made her feel just a little… off-balance.
"Anyway," she began lightly, "I invited you here to thank you for agreeing to appear in my MV, Byoungho."
He bowed again, respectful. "The honor is mine. Being in a music video with the legendary Haerin—truly, it's my privilege."
"How charming," she murmured, taking a sip of wine. The sweetness lingered.
"I'm sure you have questions. One of them is probably: why you?"
Byoungho nodded politely.
"I saw you while shooting a Calvin Klein advertisement—"
His brow twitched.
I would've remembered seeing her.
"—and I thought you fit the concept perfectly."
Chosen… from that room full of models?
"I see. I didn't think I would stand out. Thank you for considering me," he said with a small, controlled smile, leaning forward slightly.
Haerin paused.
Up close—he was even more dangerous-looking.
She slid a sleek folder toward him.
"These are the preparations for tomorrow. The concept is 'Lovers to Strangers.' We'll act as a couple—holding hands, hugging… cuddling."
Byoungho's heartbeat jumped—but his face remained unreadable as he flipped through the pages.
Beach scene.
Club scene.
A near-kiss—foreheads almost touching.
I'm going to film this with Haerin.
The public is going to destroy me.
Still, his tone remained even.
"I understand."
Haerin let out a soft laugh. "You don't seem shocked. Modeling must've prepared you."
"No," he said, gaze steady. "This is the first time I'll be doing anything like this."
Her ears grew warm.
Why does he sound like that?
"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" she asked casually—not expecting an answer.
"No," he replied immediately.
Haerin froze.
He wasn't embarrassed. He wasn't flustered.
He was simply… stating a fact.
"I wasn't expecting you to answer," she said with a small, shy smile.
Byoungho remained composed, unreadable.
I should've picked someone younger, she thought. Someone easy to read. This man is… too collected.
It was rare—rare—for someone to make her feel uncertain.
Which made him infinitely more intriguing.
Haerin's smile softened as she studied him—not the model, not the public figure—but the man sitting across from her.
This… might be dangerous.
And for the first time in a long while—
she didn't mind.
—
"DANA! NAJIKO! DAHIRA! MIYEON! COCO!"
The music faded in—soft, slow, steady—building like a held breath.
At its climax, Dahira appeared on the screen.
The crowd exploded.
Her face—already viral across social media—filled the stage visuals: porcelain skin, long jet-black hair that glowed under stage lights, soft doe-eyes framed by thick lashes, and heart-shaped lips. A petite face, unreal kind of beauty that didn't feel human.
New generation's visual: Dahira Kim of Les Fleurs.
The screams doubled. Backstage staff winced, partly from the noise—mostly from shock.
"She's stunning," one whispered.
"And she can sing too?"
Dahira smiled, delicate but confident, sending the crowd into near hysteria before her first note even left her lips.
Her voice poured out—smooth, clear, heavenly. The kind that felt effortless.
Then the camera switched.
Dana—the leader—took center stage and executed the viral dance move with practiced precision. Miyeon carried the energy next, her expression and rhythm seamless with the group.
Najiko followed, launching into a rapid-fire Japanese rap. Her aura, tone, articulation—everything screamed professional. Even from backstage, staff glanced at each other in disbelief.
She rapped faster and faster before yelling "Let's go!"
The crowd screamed.
Finally, Coco—the maknae—sang her part, her cheeks still rounded with baby fat. Something in the pitch wavered—not catastrophic, just noticeable.
When the song finished, only two names echoed most loudly from the crowd:
Dahira.
Najiko.
The lights went down. Les Fleurs held their final pose, chests rising and falling with exhaustion, then hurried offstage once darkness covered them.
"Good job," someone said.
"Thank you," they answered, breathless.
Dahira's legs burned. Every muscle begged for her to collapse.
Coco already tried— sitting on the floor.
"Not now, Coco," Dana sighed, pulling her up. "We'll rest in the room."
"Let's hurry before the next group comes," Dana whispered as they moved.
They all knew who was next.
Arcade.
Dana let out a shaky exhale. "That was way too close."
"My stomach hurts," Dahira muttered.
"Don't make that face," Najiko teased. "You're our visual."
"And Coco… you were off-key."
Coco stiffened.
"Not now." Dana's voice left no room for argument.
They turned the corner—
—and froze.
In front of them was the current hottest boy group.
Not just any boy group.
The boy group.
ARCADE.
Najiko stopped breathing.
Miyeon's jaw dropped.
Coco's embarrassment evaporated instantly.
Dahira was convinced her soul left her body.
Dana reacted first—bowing so fast it looked rehearsed.
"Hello!"
The girls scrambled to follow.
They had memorized every face, every name—and now every detail felt overwhelmingly real.
The member standing directly in front of them looked unreal in person. His black hair fell perfectly over his forehead, his eyes sharp but gentle. His skin was porcelain—so smooth it looked photoshopped.
Except it wasn't.
He was real. And he was standing three feet away.
"Hello," said Jae-hyun, ARCADE's leader.
Coco stared as if a mythical being had appeared.
Dana stepped aside, gesturing politely. "Please—go ahead."
Les Fleurs moved with her, forming a neat line against the wall.
The members passed one by one, greeting them.
Daehyun came next—the second youngest. He had the look of a natural athlete: tousled hair, strong jawline, plump lips, thick brows. The kind of boy who would be cast as the school's star athlete in a drama.
His gaze lingered on Dahira for half a second before he spoke.
"Hello."
"Hello," the girls echoed, breathless.
Behind him was Woojin—the maknae.
Les Fleurs' collective thought was immediate:
He's adorable.
His shy smile, big doe eyes, and round cheeks made him look squeezable. Coco nearly combusted.
Seojun followed. Flawless skin and features. A timid but charming smile.
Miyeon clutched her heart dramatically.
Visual overload was a real medical emergency.
Next was Haejin.
Najiko felt her pulse skyrocket.
Dark hair with streaks of red, pale skin, pink lips, and the aura of a handsome villain with a tragic backstory. He bowed slightly, barely glancing their way.
Then—
Rain.
Dana and Dahira internally screamed.
He looked like an anime character who gained consciousness and walked off the screen. Magenta hair, gold earring, symmetrical features—everything about him screamed cool.
He bowed, flashed a peace sign, and didn't look at them once.
And finally—
Rowan.
It was instant.
Les Fleurs didn't just stare—
they short-circuited.
Oh. My. GOSH.
Silver-white hair that looked like moonlight woven into silk. Eyes—the kind of vivid green that didn't seem natural, like something from a fantasy RPG character select screen. Skin pale and luminous, almost translucent under the hallway lights. And lips—soft, rose-tinted, and shaped with the kind of symmetry stylists fought to achieve with contouring.
His beauty wasn't loud, flashy, or dramatic like the others.
It was otherworldly.
The kind that made you question reality.
The kind that made you blink—just to confirm he wasn't a CGI render.
Rowan bowed gently, unaware of the existential crisis he just caused.
Les Fleurs' eyes widened in unison.
"Hello," they said—just a little too loudly.
Rowan bowed gently.
"Hello," he said quietly.
His voice lingered in their minds longer than it should.
Coco watched him until he disappeared from sight.
Meanwhile, the other girls forced themselves to greet Arcade's manager before walking forward—eyes glued to the floor so they wouldn't accidentally keep staring.
Angel wasn't even the right word.
Dahira covered her mouth.
Is he real?
Dana's gaze shifted toward the hallway—and froze.
Her eyes widened with horror.
Without hesitation, she grabbed the nearest wrist—Miyeon's.
"Girls. Let's go. NOW."
The tone snapped them out of their trance.
They moved fast.
Their dressing room came into view. Dana threw open the door, ushered everyone in, then slammed it shut.
Dahira swallowed hard. "What—what was that, Dana-unnie?"
Miyeon pressed a hand to her racing heart.
"What just happened?!"
Dana paced, hands in her hair.
"Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh—"
Najiko leaned against the wall with a smug smile.
"Looks like someone's fangirling. I thought 'we don't gush over boys,' Dana-leader?"
Dana stopped mid-panic.
"I'm not freaking out because they're hot!"
Silence.
All four girls stared.
Dana inhaled sharply.
"I'm freaking out because a camera recorded our reaction. We're going to go viral—not for performing—but for SIMPING."
Blank stares turned slowly to horror.
"What do you mean?" Dahira asked.
Dana exhaled shakily.
"There was a camera. Down the hall. Pointed directly at us. It caught everything."
"No."
Miyeon slapped both hands over her mouth.
Coco sat on the couch—emotionally gone.
Dana dropped to her knees like she'd been shot.
"I worked YEARS for a clean image. I deleted every man from my contacts except my dad!"
Miyeon's voice shook.
"We're going to get hated."
Arcade's fanbase was massive. Fiercely loyal. And not gentle.
Najiko whimpered.
"Miyeon… not helping."
Silence fell.
Dahira sank onto a chair, exhaustion washing over her.
Her thoughts drifted back—unwelcome but vivid.
Training days.
Long nights.
The pressure.
And Kai—her friend.
She remembered bumping into him right after signing her debut contract. He had laughed, telling her the boy trainees were so handsome that he felt below average standing near them.
At the time, she thought he was exaggerating.
Now?
After seeing Junho and Rowan—both rumored from the pre-debut lineup
Kai hadn't exaggerated at all.
Dahira shrugged.
"Well… I guess we're going to go viral for thirsting over handsome idols."
She tapped her chin thoughtfully, expression serious in the most unserious way.
"Headline: Les Fleurs caught drooling over ARCADE," she muttered.