The morning sun bled through the dusty dorm blinds, washing everything in gold that felt too bright for Mirae's aching body. Her ankle pulsed under the blanket, a dull throb that reminded her she wasn't supposed to be here—not if survival depended on strength.
But she was still breathing.
Still fighting.
Still here.
She sat up slowly, wincing. Across the room, the rest of Team C was stirring. Sujin yawned without opening her eyes. Dayoung was already at the mirror, brushing her hair into a neat bun. Nari mumbled a complaint about early mornings and rolled over. Inhae stared at the ceiling like she was solving a math equation in her mind. Hyerim stood quietly, sipping water and stretching like a dancer in the shadows.
The silence before the storm.
The clock read 5:43 a.m.
A sharp ping echoed in Mirae's brain. The system.
> [Daily Mission: Hit 3 High Notes Cleanly in Practice – Reward: +2 Vocal Agility] [Penalty: -5% Debut Probability if Failed]
"Great," she muttered.
There was no room for mistakes. Not today.
---
Practice Room 4C – 6:17 a.m.
Coach Jihwan stood at the front, arms crossed, eyes like lasers. "Team C. You're already behind. Team A has their choreo marked. Team B's vocals are clean. You? You're just noise."
Hyerim's jaw twitched. Nari looked down. Dayoung crossed her arms like a shield.
He gestured to the speaker. "From the top. Don't make me stop you again."
The instrumental hit like a thunderclap—fast, layered, merciless.
Mirae took her spot, foot barely steady. Her voice joined the others, soft but steady, as they began their assigned section of DreamStar's "Break the Night."
The harmony hit the second chorus—Mirae's part. The high note.
She took a breath and pushed.
Her voice cracked, sharp and raw. Off pitch.
Jihwan's eyes narrowed. "Stop."
The music cut.
Mirae's cheeks burned.
"Again. Mirae, if you can't reach it, someone else will."
"I can," she said, throat dry.
"You didn't."
"I'll fix it."
A long beat. Then the music again.
Second chorus.
The note came.
This time, Mirae hit it—but barely. It was clean, but flat. No emotion. No punch.
Coach Jihwan stopped the music himself.
"What is this? This is a performance show, not a funeral."
He walked toward her, step by step.
"You're afraid of your own voice. Afraid to crack. Afraid to break. But guess what? Every idol breaks. You either learn to break better, or you quit."
The room was silent.
Then he turned. "All of you—solo drills. If I hear one lazy breath, we start over from the top."
---
30 Minutes Later
Mirae was on her knees, head low, chest burning. Sweat dripped from her chin to the floor.
> [Daily Mission Complete – +2 Vocal Agility Earned]
She barely registered it.
Around her, the others were quiet—focused, tired, but moving. Even Hyerim had cracked once during a line.
Jihwan checked his watch. "Lunch in 15. Group harmonies after. Don't waste my time."
The door shut behind him like a gavel.
"Seriously," Nari groaned, flopping to the floor, "does he ever blink?"
Dayoung stretched her neck. "It's not personal. He just doesn't want us to fail."
"He's doing a great job of motivating me to cry," Nari said.
"You weren't the only one who cracked," Hana muttered, not quite directing it at anyone.
Jiwon, who had slipped into the back of the room earlier, sat by the wall now, drinking silently from a water bottle. She hadn't joined drills. She wasn't part of their team—but for some reason, she watched them closely.
"Hey," Sujin said softly, nudging Mirae. "You okay?"
Mirae forced a nod.
"Your note cracked. That's okay," Sujin said. "Even Dayoung cracked."
"Thanks for the reminder," Dayoung deadpanned.
"But you kept going," Sujin added. "That's what matters."
Mirae smiled faintly.
But her hands were still trembling.
---
Dorm Rooftop – 1:48 p.m.
She needed air.
The practice floor was suffocating, and Mirae couldn't keep pretending she wasn't breaking apart.
So she climbed the stairs, slow and careful. The rooftop was quiet. Open. The sky above seemed endless, and for once, the cameras weren't watching—at least, not directly.
She leaned against the railing, gulping cool air.
> [System Alert: Optional Side Quest Available – Vocal Mastery Route Unlocked] [Side Quest: Sing Alone at Highest Range for 5 Minutes – Reward: Custom Vocal Drill + System Patch]
Mirae looked around. No one. Just clouds and city air.
She cleared her throat.
And began to sing.
Her voice started low, cautious. Then higher. Then higher still.
Wind cut through her notes like knives, but she held on.
One minute. Two. Her throat burned. Her heart pounded.
By the third minute, tears pricked her eyes—not from pain, but from release.
This was her voice.
Not perfect.
Not powerful.
But alive.
> [Quest Complete – Custom Drill Unlocked]
A soft ping. But that wasn't what made her smile.
Behind her, a slow clap echoed.
She turned, startled.
Jiwon leaned against the rooftop doorframe. "Didn't think you'd do it."
Mirae blinked. "How long were you—?"
"Long enough," Jiwon said. "You've got guts, I'll give you that."
Mirae frowned. "Why are you even here?"
"I don't like crowds."
"You were watching us all day."
Jiwon shrugged. "Watching who fails first. That's the game, right?"
Mirae turned back to the sky. "It's more than a game to me."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, unexpectedly, Jiwon said, "I heard your note earlier. It wasn't bad."
"Didn't sound like it."
"You're not singing from the center," Jiwon said. "You're singing from your throat. Like you're afraid your real voice isn't enough."
Mirae looked at her, surprised. "You're... actually giving advice?"
"Don't get used to it," Jiwon muttered.
But her eyes were softer now.
Like maybe… she didn't hate Mirae after all.
---
Practice Room 4C – 6:02 p.m.
Evening drills were brutal.
Harmonies again. Group blending. They were supposed to sound like one unit—one breath.
But every time Mirae started her part, something inside her seized. That panic. That fear of the crack.
Jihwan noticed.
He stopped the track and walked to the center of the room.
"You're afraid of being loud," he said, pointing at Mirae. "But survival doesn't whisper. It screams."
He snapped his fingers. "Dim the lights."
Someone turned them off. The room plunged into near darkness, with only the emergency red glow near the exit.
Jihwan's voice was calm now. "Sing it again. This time—pretend you're alone. No one here. Just you. And your voice."
The music started.
Mirae closed her eyes.
She took a breath.
And sang.
The note came—and this time, it rang out clean, full, trembling but powerful.
The room held its breath.
Even Jihwan didn't stop it.
When the track ended, he nodded once. Just once.
No compliments.
But it was something.
---
Dorm Room – 10:47 p.m.
Mirae lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
Her throat hurt.
Her ankle throbbed.
But she had survived the day.
And more than that… she had sung.
A system ping lit up in her vision.
> [Team C Average Vocal Score: 57% → 62%] [Your Score Contribution: +6%] [Bonus Triggered: +1 Debut Probability]
She smiled.
Just a little.
Then Sujin's voice whispered from the bed beside her. "Hey… Mirae?"
"Yeah?"
"I heard you today. In the dark."
"...Yeah?"
"You sounded like someone fighting for their life."
Mirae's throat tightened.
"Good," she whispered. "Because I am."