Chapter Text
The digital clock on the microwave blinked 7:42 PM as Ningning's phone lit up with Giselle's call. She answered quickly, moving away from the kitchen counter where Winter was methodically organizing snacks into perfect rows.
"Unnie, hi," Ningning said, slipping into her bedroom and closing the door softly behind her.
"Hey, I'm just leaving Korean class now," Giselle's voice came through, slightly breathless. "Should be back in about twenty minutes. Are you at the dorm?"
"Yeah, I'm here with Winter-unnie," Ningning replied, keeping her voice even. She sat on the edge of her bed, eyes drifting to the framed group photo on her nightstand—all four of them laughing during one of their first practice sessions together. "We just got back a little while ago."
"Everything okay? You sound a bit off."
Ningning hesitated. She'd maintained her composure with Winter, offering support and clarity while they walked home together. But now, alone in her room, the weight of what she'd witnessed pressed down on her.
"I'm not sure," she admitted quietly. "It's... complicated."
There was a brief pause before Giselle spoke again, traffic sounds filling the background. "What's on your mind? Did something happen with Winter?"
Ningning drew her knees up to her chest, suddenly feeling much younger than her eighteen years.
"It's about Winter-unnie and Karina-unnie," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think... I think they're both disappearing, unnie. And I don't know how to help them."
"Disappearing? They're fading out or something?" Giselle asked, a nervous laugh punctuating her words. "Are we talking ghosts or just really good diets?"
Ningning twisted a loose thread on her sleeve, not matching Giselle's attempt at humor. "It's their personalities. They're... becoming their stage personas. All the time."
"Ah." The background noise on Giselle's end shifted—she'd ducked into a quieter side street. "Karina's been extra Karina-ish lately, huh?"
"Winter too," Ningning murmured. "Today she broke down by the river. Said she's turning into someone else, piece by piece."
Giselle whistled low. "Winter actually admitted that? To you?"
Ningning nodded before remembering Giselle couldn't see her. "She was crying. Real crying, not the perfect single-tear-down-the-cheek thing she practices."
"Damn." Giselle's footsteps quickened on the other end. "And what about Karina?"
"That's the thing—Winter's worried Karina's already gone. That Jimin doesn't exist anymore."
A bus roared past on Giselle's end. "That's dramatic. I mean, yes, Karina's intense, but—"
"When was the last time you saw her laugh? Really laugh, not just the camera-ready one with the perfect teeth?"
Giselle fell silent. Ningning counted five heartbeats before she spoke again.
"Shit," Giselle muttered. "I can't remember."
Ningning slumped against her headboard. "Exactly."
"So what happened with Winter today? The full version."
Ningning recounted their conversation by the river, Winter's tears, the walk home, the impulsive ice cream stop. As she spoke, she paced her small room, energy bubbling up that she couldn't contain.
"And now she's in the kitchen arranging snacks like they're going to be photographed for a magazine," she finished. "Back to perfect Winter again."
"Old habits," Giselle said. "Look, I'm almost home. Ten minutes tops. Don't worry, okay? We'll figure this out."
"But what if—"
"Hey," Giselle cut in, her voice firm. "We're not losing anyone. Not on my watch."
Ningning released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "You have a plan?"
"Working on it," Giselle replied. "Step one is definitely not freaking out. Step two might involve blanket forts."
Despite everything, Ningning smiled. "Blanket forts?"
"Hard to maintain perfect idol posture in a blanket fort. Trust me on this."
"If you say so."
"I do say so." A door chimed as Giselle entered a shop. "I'm grabbing ice cream. The good stuff, not the sad diet kind."
Ningning glanced toward her closed door, lowering her voice. "What if they don't want our help?"
Giselle snorted. "Since when do I wait for permission to meddle?"
"Fair point."
"Look, we're pre-debut. This is when we get to decide who we'll be, not just on stage but off it too." Giselle's voice softened. "If they're losing themselves, we'll just have to help them remember."
Ningning straightened her shoulders, Giselle's confidence contagious. "Okay. What's step three?"
"Hmm. Probably karaoke. The embarrassing kind with dramatic floor slides."
"Karina will never—"
"Jimin might," Giselle countered. "If Winter—I mean Minjeong—goes first."
Ningning considered this, remembering the flash of the real Winter she'd seen earlier. "Maybe."
"Trust me," Giselle said, the rustle of shopping bags accompanying her words. "I've got this. Operation Resurrection starts tonight."
"That name is terrifying."
"Operation Find Our Unnies?"
"Better."
"I'm almost home. Just—" Giselle paused. "Don't look so worried when I get there, okay? Act normal."
"I am normal."
"Your normal, not idol-trainee normal. Be messy Ningning."
Ningning glanced at herself in the mirror, noticing how she'd unconsciously straightened her posture, fixed her expression. She deliberately slouched. "Got it."
"See you in five," Giselle said. "And Ning?"
"Yeah?"
"You did good today. With Winter." The sincerity in Giselle's voice warmed Ningning's chest.
"Thanks, unnie."
She hung up and tossed her phone onto her unmade bed, deliberately messing up her hair before heading back to the kitchen. Winter was still there, now wiping down already-clean counters with methodical precision.
Ningning watched her for a moment, seeing both versions now—the perfect Winter and the glimpses of Minjeong underneath. Giselle was right. They weren't lost yet.
And if anyone could lead a rescue mission, it was Giselle—the one member who still laughed with her whole body, who still made mistakes without calculating their cost, who still remained stubbornly, unapologetically herself.
Ningning grabbed a snack from Winter's perfect arrangement, deliberately disrupting the pattern. Winter's eyes widened slightly, but then—miracle of miracles—her lips quirked in a small, genuine smile.
It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Giselle juggled her shopping bags while scrolling to Karina's contact. The convenience store's automatic doors whooshed shut behind her as she stepped into the cool evening air. She hit call and wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder.
One ring. Two. Three.
"Hello?" Karina's voice answered, perfectly modulated even through the phone.
"Hey! Where are you?" Giselle asked, picking up her pace.
"At the company. Reviewing today's evaluations."
Of course she was. Giselle rolled her eyes. "Still? It's almost eight."
"I need to analyze my feedback before tomorrow's session."
"Well, un-analyze it. We're having an emergency team meeting."
A pause. "What kind of emergency?"
Giselle dodged a cyclist, nearly dropping her ice cream. "The kind that requires karaoke."
"Karaoke?" Karina's tone shifted from professional to suspicious. "Giselle, we have evaluations all week."
"Exactly!" Giselle pounced on the opening. "And our harmony was off the other day. The evaluators mentioned it."
"They did?" Uncertainty crept into Karina's voice.
Giselle bit her lip, guilt flashing briefly before determination took over. "Yep. Said our voices aren't blending naturally enough. We need to practice in a different environment."
"We could just use the practice rooms."
"Boring! Those rooms are killing our creativity." Giselle turned the corner onto their street, the dorm building now in sight. "Karaoke has different acoustics. Plus, we can record ourselves and analyze it after."
"I don't think—"
"Winter and Ningning are already on board," Giselle cut in, picking up speed. "They're waiting at the dorm."
Another pause, longer this time. Giselle could practically hear Karina's internal debate.
"SM won't like us going out right before debut evaluations," Karina finally said, her tone measured but weakening.
"Details, details," Giselle waved her free hand dismissively, nearly smacking a streetlight. "We'll be back by eleven. No one will know."
"Giselle—"
"Look, if you're worried about your evaluation, fine. But the rest of us need this practice, and we need our leader." Giselle winced at her own manipulation but pressed on. "Unless you think your solo performance is more important than our group harmony?"
A sharp intake of breath on the other end. Direct hit.
"That's not what I said."
"Great! Then I'll see you at the dorm in twenty minutes. Wear something comfortable. Not 'Karina comfortable'—actual comfortable."
"What does that even—"
"Gotta go, these ice cream bars are melting!" Giselle hung up before Karina could respond, shoving her phone into her pocket with a triumphant grin.
She bounded up the steps to their building, mentally calculating her next moves. Get Winter and Ningning on board. Find the most ridiculous songs possible. Create an environment where perfect posture and calculated expressions were impossible to maintain.
Break through the Karina facade to find Jimin underneath.
Giselle paused outside their door, taking a deep breath. This might backfire spectacularly. Karina might shut down completely. Winter might retreat further into her perfect shell.
But doing nothing wasn't an option. Not when her friends were disappearing right in front of her.
She squared her shoulders and pushed open the door.
"Honey, I'm home!" she announced, kicking off her shoes haphazardly. "And I come bearing sugar and a plan!"
Winter looked up from the kitchen, eyebrows raised at Giselle's dramatic entrance. Ningning poked her head out from her bedroom, relief washing over her face.
Giselle dropped her bags on the counter and fixed them both with a determined stare.
"Alright, ladies. We have exactly—" she checked her watch, "—eighteen minutes until Karina gets here. And we need to talk strategy."
"Strategy for what?" Winter asked, already moving to organize the items Giselle had dumped on the counter.
Giselle gently caught Winter's wrist, stopping the automatic tidying. "Operation Find Our Friends," she said, her voice softer but no less intense. "Starting with you two."
Winter's eyes widened. She glanced at Ningning, who gave a small, guilty shrug.
"You told her?" Winter whispered.
"She had to," Giselle answered before Ningning could. "We're a team, remember? All four of us. Not just our stage personas."
Winter's hand trembled slightly under Giselle's grip. "I don't think Karina will—"
"Let me worry about Karina," Giselle interrupted, releasing Winter's wrist to pull ice cream from a bag. "Right now, I need to know if you're in, Minjeong. Not Winter—Minjeong."
The name hung in the air between them. Winter—Minjeong—swallowed hard, her perfect posture faltering for just a second.
"What exactly are you planning?" she asked, voice barely audible.
Giselle grinned, tossing a pint of ice cream to Ningning, who caught it with a startled laugh.
"We're going to karaoke. We're going to be terrible. We're going to laugh until we cry." She locked eyes with Winter. "And we're going to remember who we are when no one's watching."
Winter bit her lip, conflict clear on her face. But then—a tiny spark in her eyes. Something real, something unscripted.
"Karina will never agree to this."
"She already has," Giselle said, triumphant. "Though she thinks it's for harmony practice."
Ningning snorted. "You lied to her?"
"I creatively reframed the truth," Giselle corrected, unwrapping an ice cream bar and taking a large bite. "Now, who's with me?"
Ningning raised her hand immediately. Winter hesitated, then slowly, deliberately raised hers too.
"Good," Giselle said through a mouthful of ice cream. "Because Jimin is still in there somewhere. And tonight, we're breaking her out."
"This is going to be fun," Ningning declared, bouncing slightly on her toes. "Like, actually fun. When was the last time we did something just for fun?"
Winter sank onto a kitchen stool, shoulders dropping. "I want to help, but I'm just..." She gestured vaguely at herself. "Empty. Today was a lot."
Giselle studied Winter's face—the faint remnants of tears, the exhaustion pulling at her features. She softened her approach, sliding an ice cream across the counter.
"You don't have to perform tonight," Giselle said. "That's the whole point. Just exist. Eat ice cream. Laugh if something's funny. Or don't, if it's not."
Winter picked up the spoon, turning it over in her hands. "It sounds so simple when you say it."
"Because it is simple." Giselle hopped onto the counter, legs swinging. "We've just forgotten how to do it."
Ningning opened her ice cream, digging in eagerly. "So what's the actual plan for Karina?"
Giselle's eyes gleamed. She jumped down and began pacing, gesturing with her ice cream bar like a conductor's baton.
"First, we need to disrupt her patterns. Karina enters a room, assesses everyone's position, and adjusts her behavior accordingly. So—" she pointed at Ningning, "—you'll be in constant motion. Don't sit still, don't be predictable."
Ningning nodded, already shifting her weight from foot to foot.
"Winter, you'll be her anchor point." Giselle turned to the older girl. "She's used to mirroring your composure. If you slouch, fidget, let yourself be messy—it'll throw her off."
Winter straightened automatically at being addressed, then deliberately slumped. "Like this?"
"Perfect." Giselle grinned. "I'll handle the conversation. Keep pushing past Karina's deflections until Jimin has to respond."
"And if she doesn't?" Winter asked quietly.
Giselle's expression turned serious. "She will. We just need to find the right trigger."
She rummaged through another shopping bag, pulling out a small photo album.
"I grabbed this from my room at the last minute," she explained, flipping it open. "Pictures from our first month as trainees together."
Winter leaned forward, something flickering in her eyes. "I haven't seen these in ages."
"Exactly." Giselle tapped a photo of Karina—no, Jimin—with chocolate ice cream smeared across her chin, laughing with her whole face. "Jimin's still in there. We just need to remind Karina who she really is."
Ningning peered at the photos. "She looks so different."
"She was different," Winter murmured, tracing the edge of the photo. "We all were."
Giselle snapped the album shut. "And we can be again. Not the same, obviously—we've grown up. But real. Authentic."
She glanced at her watch and cursed. "Twelve minutes. Okay, quick rundown: At karaoke, we pick songs from pre-debut—stuff we used to practice when we first met. Songs with memories attached."
"Like SHINee's 'View'," Winter suggested, a ghost of a smile appearing. "Jimin used to dance to that every morning."
"Perfect!" Giselle pointed her now-empty ice cream stick at Winter. "See? You remember. And somewhere, she does too."
Ningning raised her hand like a student. "What if she just goes full Karina and turns it into another practice session?"
"Then we deliberately mess up," Giselle declared. "We make it impossible to be perfect."
Winter's eyes widened. "She'll hate that."
"Karina will. Jimin might find it funny." Giselle tossed her stick into the trash with perfect aim. "The key is creating moments where her practiced responses don't apply."
She grabbed a notebook from the counter and scribbled rapidly. "Winter, what else did Jimin love? Before debut prep took over everything?"
Winter closed her eyes, thinking. "Spicy ramen challenges. Dance battles to random songs. Those weird ASMR videos that made her laugh until she cried."
Giselle wrote everything down, nodding. "Good, good. Ningning?"
"She taught me that silly hand-clapping game when I first arrived," Ningning offered. "Said her cousins showed her."
"Perfect." Giselle added it to the list. "I've got the noraebang booked for nine. We'll start with 'normal' practice, then gradually shift to these memory triggers."
Winter fidgeted with her spoon. "What if this makes things worse? What if she feels ambushed?"
Giselle paused, considering. "Then we back off. This isn't an intervention—it's an invitation. We're just creating space for Jimin to exist again, if she wants to."
The front door buzzer rang, making them all jump.
"That's too early to be Karina," Ningning said, checking the time.
Giselle peeked through the peephole and swore under her breath. "It's her. Of course she's early."
She turned to the others, speaking quickly. "Remember—don't try too hard. Just be real. Whatever that means for you right now."
Winter took a deep breath, deliberately mussing her hair and slouching further on her stool. Ningning grabbed another ice cream and plopped cross-legged on the floor, an unnatural position for their usually poised maknae.
Giselle nodded approvingly and flung open the door.
Karina stood in the hallway, perfect posture, perfect makeup, perfect expression of polite interest. Not a hair out of place despite the long day of evaluations.
"You're early," Giselle said, deliberately casual.
Karina tilted her head slightly. "The company car was already leaving. I thought punctuality would be appreciated for this... emergency practice."
Her eyes scanned the room, taking in Winter's slouched position, Ningning on the floor, the scattered ice cream containers. A brief flicker of confusion crossed her features before her expression smoothed again.
Giselle stepped aside, gesturing grandly. "Welcome to Operation Find Jimin. Though you think it's karaoke practice, so let's go with that for now."
Karina froze mid-step. "What did you just say?"
Giselle met her gaze directly, challenge in her eyes. "You heard me."
For one unguarded moment, something flashed across Karina's face—panic, recognition, longing—before the perfect mask slipped back into place.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, voice controlled. "Are we practicing or not?"
Giselle grinned, undeterred. "Oh, we're definitely practicing. Just not what you think."
She grabbed the photo album from the counter and dangled it in front of Karina.
"First exercise: remembering how to be human."
Karina raised a brow at Giselle. "You're kidding, aren't you?"
"Nope." Giselle popped the 'p' sound, refusing to break eye contact.
"This is ridiculous." Karina's voice remained steady, but her fingers twitched at her sides. "We have evaluations tomorrow."
"Which we'll ace," Giselle countered, "after we remember how to connect with each other."
Karina's gaze flicked to Winter, seeking her usual ally in professionalism. Finding her deliberately disheveled and avoiding eye contact, Karina's composure slipped—just for a second.
"What's going on here?" she demanded, an edge creeping into her voice. "Is this some kind of intervention?"
"I told you," Giselle said, waving the photo album. "Operation Find Jimin."
"Stop calling me that." Karina's response was immediate, sharp.
"Why?" Giselle stepped closer. "It's your name."
"It's my birth name. Karina is my professional name."
"And which one are you right now?" Giselle pressed. "In our dorm, with just us?"
Karina's jaw tightened. She glanced at Ningning, still cross-legged on the floor, watching the exchange with wide eyes.
"This is inappropriate," Karina said, switching tactics. "Ningning doesn't need to see this."
"Ningning was the one who noticed first," Winter spoke up quietly from her stool. "That you never slip. That you're always performing."
Karina stared at Winter, genuine shock breaking through her facade. "You discussed me behind my back?"
"We discussed our friend," Winter replied, meeting her gaze directly. "Who we miss."
The air in the room grew thick with tension. Karina stood perfectly still, her breathing measured despite the emotional ambush.
"This is absurd," she finally said, turning toward the door. "I'm going back to practice."
Giselle darted in front of her, blocking the exit. "No, you're not."
"Move, Giselle."
"Make me, Jimin."
Karina's eyes flashed. For a heartbeat, something wild and unscripted surfaced—then vanished just as quickly.
"Fine." She stepped back, recalibrating. "What exactly do you want from me?"
Giselle relaxed slightly, sensing a small victory in the fact that Karina hadn't physically moved her aside.
"We want you to come to karaoke," she said, softening her approach. "Not as practice. Just for fun."
"Fun," Karina repeated the word like it was in a foreign language.
"Yeah, remember that?" Giselle flipped open the photo album to a random page. "Like this?"
The photo showed all four of them sprawled on the practice room floor, exhausted but grinning after their first successful run-through of a full choreography.
Karina's eyes lingered on the image. Something shifted in her expression—so subtle that only those who knew her best would notice.
"That was different," she said quietly. "We weren't about to debut then."
"And that means we can't laugh anymore?" Ningning piped up from the floor.
Karina looked at her, startled by the direct challenge from their youngest.
"It means we have responsibilities now," she replied, her tone gentler with Ningning. "Standards to maintain."
"On stage, sure," Giselle agreed. "But here? Now? With just us?"
Winter stood suddenly, approaching Karina with careful steps. "Do you remember when we promised each other we wouldn't change? That first night in the dorms?"
Karina's perfect posture faltered—just a millimeter, a slight curve of the spine that wouldn't be visible to anyone but them.
"That was childish," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
"No," Winter countered, stopping directly in front of her. "It was honest."
They stood facing each other—Winter deliberately messy, Karina flawlessly put together—mirrors of who they'd become.
"I remembered today," Winter continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Who I used to be. Who we used to be."
Karina swallowed, the movement visible in her throat. "We grew up. That's all."
"We disappeared," Winter corrected. "Piece by piece. And I don't want to anymore."
The room held its breath. Giselle and Ningning exchanged glances, sensing the pivotal moment unfolding.
Karina's eyes darted between the three of them—Winter directly before her, Giselle still blocking the door, Ningning watching from the floor. For once, she couldn't calculate the perfect response.
"One hour," she finally said, the words clipped. "We go to karaoke for one hour. Then we come back and prepare for tomorrow's evaluation."
Giselle pumped her fist in triumph. "Deal!"
"This doesn't mean—" Karina started.
"It doesn't mean anything," Winter interrupted gently. "Except that you're coming with us."
Karina nodded stiffly, then gestured to her outfit—a perfectly coordinated blazer and slacks. "I should change first."
"Yes!" Giselle exclaimed. "Into actual comfortable clothes. Not 'camera-ready casual'."
A flicker of annoyance crossed Karina's face—the most genuine emotion she'd shown since arriving. "I know how to dress myself."
"Do you though?" Giselle challenged, grinning.
For a split second, Karina's hand twitched like she might playfully swat at Giselle—an old habit from their early trainee days. She caught herself, the motion aborted before it fully formed.
But Giselle had seen it. And from Winter's subtle intake of breath, she had too.
A crack in the facade. A glimpse of Jimin.
"Ten minutes," Karina said, retreating toward her room. "Then we go."
As soon as her door closed, Giselle turned to the others with a suppressed squeal. "Did you see that? The almost-slap? That was pure Jimin!"
Winter nodded, hope lighting her tired eyes. "For a second, yes."
"Phase one complete," Giselle declared. "She's coming with us."
"She's still mostly Karina though," Ningning pointed out, climbing to her feet.
"For now," Giselle agreed. "But we've got one hour of karaoke to change that."
She grabbed her coat and the photo album, energy radiating from her every movement.
"Get ready, ladies. Operation Find Jimin is officially underway."
Ningning sidled up to Giselle as Winter went to change. "Can I ask you something?" she whispered, glancing toward Karina's closed door.
"Shoot," Giselle replied, stuffing the photo album into her bag.
"Why'd you tackle it so directly?" Ningning asked, fidgeting with her sleeve. "Telling her outright about 'Operation Find Jimin'? Wouldn't it have been better to just lead her into having fun without the underlying motives?"
Giselle snorted. "Have you met Karina? She'd see through that in seconds."
"You think?"
"I know." Giselle zipped her bag decisively. "She's too smart for subtle manipulation. Plus, she's spent years analyzing every social interaction for the perfect response. If we pretended this was just casual fun, she'd sense the trap and double down on being Karina."
Ningning considered this. "So being direct was..."
"Tactical," Giselle finished. "She can't prepare for something when she knows we're watching for the cracks." She lowered her voice further. "Besides, I caught her off guard. Did you see her face when I said 'Operation Find Jimin'?"
Ningning nodded. "She looked scared."
"Exactly." Giselle's expression softened. "Because Jimin heard us calling for her."
Winter emerged from her room in oversized sweats, her hair pulled into a messy bun. Giselle gave her an approving thumbs up.
"Perfect. Maximum Minjeong energy."
Winter rolled her eyes but smiled—a small, genuine expression. "Is this really going to work?"
"No idea," Giselle admitted cheerfully. "But at least we're trying."
Karina's door opened, and they all turned expectantly.
She'd changed, but not into what any of them hoped for. She wore neat jeans and a simple blouse—casual by her standards, but still camera-ready, still controlled.
Giselle groaned dramatically. "That's not comfortable! That's 'idol spotted on her day off' wear."
Karina adjusted her sleeve. "This is perfectly comfortable."
"Can you do this in that outfit?" Giselle challenged, dropping suddenly into a dramatic split.
Winter stifled a laugh as Giselle wobbled in the position, clearly regretting her impulsive demonstration.
Karina crossed her arms. "I don't plan on doing splits at karaoke."
"That's exactly the problem!" Giselle declared, struggling to stand back up. "You're planning everything!"
A flash of irritation crossed Karina's face—real, unfiltered. "Some of us prefer to think before we act."
"And some of us—" Giselle grabbed Karina's hand, pulling her toward the door, "—think too much and never actually live."
Karina stiffened but didn't pull away. "That's not fair."
"No?" Giselle paused, turning to face her directly. "When was the last time you did something unplanned? Something just because you wanted to, not because it fit your image or furthered your career?"
The question hung in the air. Karina opened her mouth, then closed it again, no perfect answer at the ready.
"I thought so," Giselle said, her voice gentler now. "Look, you don't have to change clothes if you don't want to. But tonight, try—just try—to let go a little. No one's watching except us. No one's judging except you."
Something complicated moved behind Karina's eyes. For a moment, the practiced confidence wavered, revealing uncertainty underneath.
"I don't know if I remember how," she admitted, so quietly they almost missed it.
Winter stepped forward, joining them at the door. "That's why we're here," she said simply. "To help you remember."
Karina looked between them—Giselle's determined grin, Winter's quiet understanding, Ningning's hopeful expression. Her shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch.
"One hour," she repeated, but the words lacked their earlier firmness.
"One hour," Giselle agreed, swinging the door open. "Operation Find Jimin is a go!"
As they filed into the hallway, Ningning fell into step beside Giselle.
"You really think being direct was the right call?" she whispered.
Giselle glanced ahead at Karina's back, at the way she walked with Winter—close but not touching, a careful distance maintained.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But pretending would've been worse. She deserves to know we see what's happening."
Ningning nodded slowly. "I guess I'm just scared we'll push her further away."
Giselle squeezed Ningning's shoulder. "That's the risk. But doing nothing..." She shook her head. "I'd rather try and fail than watch her disappear completely."
Ahead of them, Winter said something too quiet to hear. Karina's response was equally soft, but as they turned the corner, Giselle caught a glimpse of their faces—Winter's open vulnerability, Karina's careful mask slipping just enough to reveal something raw underneath.
"Look," Giselle whispered to Ningning. "It's already working."
Ningning followed her gaze and smiled. "Maybe."
"Definitely," Giselle declared, picking up her pace to catch up with the others. "Now let's go make some terrible karaoke choices and see what happens."
The evening air carried a hint of spring as they made their way down the quiet side streets. Giselle deliberately hung back with Ningning, creating space for Winter and Karina to walk ahead. She strained to catch fragments of their conversation, tilting her head slightly to hear better.
"...not just about today," Winter was saying, her voice low. "It's been building for a while."
Karina's response was too quiet to make out, but her posture remained rigid, hands clasped behind her back in that practiced idol stance.
Giselle nudged Ningning. "What are they saying?" she whispered.
Ningning shrugged. "Can't hear."
A group of teenagers passed by, one girl doing a double-take at them. Instantly, Karina's demeanor shifted—chin lifting slightly, expression warming into her camera-ready smile. The transformation was so seamless it would have been impressive if it weren't so alarming.
Giselle frowned, quickening her pace to catch up. "Hey, no one recognized us," she said pointedly as she fell into step beside Karina. "You can drop the fan smile."
Karina blinked, the professional warmth fading from her expression. "Force of habit," she said stiffly.
"That's the problem," Giselle muttered, just loud enough for Karina to hear.
They turned down a narrow street lined with restaurants and small businesses. The karaoke place was nestled between a convenience store and a bubble tea shop, its neon sign flickering in the growing darkness.
"Here we are!" Giselle announced, gesturing dramatically. "Our sanctuary of terrible singing and zero judgment."
Karina eyed the entrance skeptically. "This place looks..."
"Perfect," Giselle finished for her. "Small, cheap, and not where idols usually go."
"That's one way to put it," Karina murmured.
As they approached the door, Giselle caught Winter shooting Karina a look—something searching, almost pleading. Karina met her gaze briefly before looking away, but not before Giselle spotted a flicker of uncertainty in her expression.
Good, Giselle thought. Uncertainty meant cracks in the armor.
Inside, the place was dimly lit and slightly shabby, with worn carpeting and faded posters of singers from the previous decade. The middle-aged woman at the counter barely glanced up as they entered.
"Room for four," Giselle said, sliding over the cash she'd prepared earlier. "Two hours."
"I thought you said one hour," Karina interjected immediately.
Giselle winked at her. "I lied. Sue me."
For a split second, Karina's composure slipped—her eyebrows drawing together in genuine annoyance rather than the carefully modulated displeasure she usually displayed. Giselle counted it as a win.
The woman handed over a key with a plastic number tag. "Room 7, down the hall on the right. Drink minimum is one per person."
As they made their way down the narrow corridor, Giselle deliberately bumped shoulders with Karina. "Loosen up. Your face is doing that thing again."
"What thing?" Karina asked, tension evident in her voice.
"That 'I'm mentally calculating how this will affect my image' thing." Giselle mimicked an exaggerated version of Karina's expression, drawing a surprised laugh from Ningning.
Karina pressed her lips together, not responding. But Giselle noticed her consciously relaxing her features as they entered the small karaoke room.
The space was intimate—just a worn couch facing a TV screen, a small table with a song catalog, and the requisite disco ball spinning lazily overhead. Colorful lights pulsed across the walls in slow, hypnotic patterns.
"Perfect," Giselle declared, dropping onto the couch and spreading her arms wide. "Ningning, grab the drinks menu. Winter, you're on song selection duty. Karina—" she pointed dramatically, "—you're banned from picking any songs we've practiced officially."
Karina crossed her arms. "I thought this was supposed to be harmony practice."
"I lied about that too," Giselle admitted cheerfully. "Keep up."
Winter settled beside Giselle, flipping through the song catalog. "They have 'View'," she said quietly, glancing up at Karina.
Something flickered across Karina's face—recognition, nostalgia, resistance. She remained standing, hovering awkwardly by the door.
"Sit down," Giselle patted the space beside her. "The perfect posture is stressing me out."
After a moment's hesitation, Karina perched on the edge of the couch, maintaining a careful distance from the others.
Ningning returned with four sodas, distributing them before squeezing in beside Winter. "What are we singing first?"
"'View'," Giselle declared, watching Karina closely. "For old times' sake."
Karina's fingers tightened around her soda can. "That's not—"
"That's not what?" Giselle challenged. "Not productive? Not professional? Not perfectly aligned with our concept?"
"I was going to say 'not fair'," Karina replied quietly.
The simple admission hung in the air. Winter looked up from the catalog, surprise evident in her expression.
"Why not fair?" Giselle pressed, gentler now.
Karina stared at the unopened soda in her hands. "You know why."
Giselle exchanged glances with Winter, who nodded almost imperceptibly.
"Because it reminds you of before," Winter said softly. "Of when we first met."
Karina didn't respond, but her knuckles whitened around the can.
"That's the whole point," Giselle said, leaning forward. "Remembering who we were. Who we still are, underneath everything else."
The disco ball cast shifting patterns of light across Karina's face, momentarily disguising her expression. When the light settled, her mask was firmly back in place.
"Fine," she said, her voice controlled again. "One song. Then we practice something useful."
Giselle bit back a frustrated sigh. This was going to be harder than she thought. She grabbed the remote and punched in the code for "View," watching Karina from the corner of her eye.
As the familiar intro began to play, Karina's posture remained perfect, her expression neutral. But Giselle didn't miss the way her foot tapped once, automatically, before she caught herself and stopped the movement.
Jimin was still in there somewhere. They just needed to dig deeper.
The opening notes of "View" filled the small room. Giselle grabbed a microphone and jumped to her feet, deliberately ignoring the lyrics on screen as she launched into the first verse. She moved with loose-limbed freedom, hitting the notes with surprising precision while adding her own flourishes to the melody.
Winter's eyes widened. Ningning bobbed her head appreciatively. But it was Karina's reaction Giselle was tracking—the slight parting of her lips, the focused attention that wasn't just professional assessment.
As the chorus hit, Giselle spun dramatically, adding the key dance moves but making them messier, more playful. She extended the microphone toward the others, grinning when Ningning immediately jumped up to join her.
Winter followed a moment later, her movements hesitant at first but gradually loosening as Giselle's infectious energy pulled her in. Only Karina remained seated, watching them with an expression caught between confusion and something that looked almost like longing.
Giselle belted the high note near the end, nailing it with an intensity that made even Karina's eyebrows raise in surprise. As the song finished, she collapsed dramatically onto the couch, breathing hard but grinning.
"That was..." Karina started, then paused, recalibrating. "Your vocal control was impressive. I haven't heard you hit those notes that cleanly in practice."
Giselle laughed, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Thanks, I think?"
"I mean it," Karina insisted, leaning forward slightly. "How did you do that? Without warming up properly?"
"Having fun," Giselle replied simply. "That's how."
Karina's brow furrowed. "Fun doesn't improve vocal technique."
"Doesn't it though?" Giselle countered, still catching her breath. "When you're not overthinking every note, when you're just feeling the music—" she tapped her chest, "—it comes from somewhere more genuine."
"That's not how vocal training works," Karina said, but her tone lacked conviction.
Winter settled beside Karina, closer than before. "Remember when we first learned this song? In that tiny practice room with the broken air conditioning?"
A flicker of something—memory, perhaps—crossed Karina's face. "It was summer," she said quietly. "We were drenched in sweat."
"But we kept going," Winter continued, "because we loved it so much. We weren't worried about being perfect then."
"And we sounded better for it," Giselle added, seizing the opening. "Admit it, Karina. When was the last time you sang just because you loved the song? Not to practice, not to impress, just because it made you happy?"
Karina opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her fingers fidgeted with the still-unopened soda can—a small, unconscious movement that betrayed her inner conflict.
"Your turn," Giselle declared, offering the microphone to Karina. "Same song. But this time, don't sing it like Karina, SM's next top idol. Sing it like you did that summer."
"That's ridiculous," Karina protested, not taking the microphone. "I can't just—"
"Can't or won't?" Giselle challenged.
Karina's eyes flashed—genuine irritation breaking through her composed exterior. "Fine," she snapped, snatching the microphone. "If it'll get you to drop this."
Giselle grinned triumphantly, hitting replay on the remote. As the music started again, Karina stood, automatically assuming her performance stance—shoulders back, expression controlled, movements precise.
"No, no, no," Giselle interrupted, pausing the track. "That's Karina performing at Inkigayo. I want Jimin in that sweaty practice room."
"I don't know what you want from me," Karina said, frustration edging into her voice—real emotion, unfiltered.
"Yes, you do," Winter said softly. "You're just afraid to give it to us."
The simple observation landed like a physical blow. Karina stared at Winter, something vulnerable flickering in her eyes.
"Try again," Giselle said, gentler now. "Close your eyes if it helps. Pretend we're not here."
She restarted the song. Karina hesitated, then closed her eyes as the intro played. For a moment, she stood perfectly still, the battle visible on her face—Karina fighting to maintain control, Jimin struggling to emerge.
Then, as the first verse began, something shifted. Her stance softened. Her grip on the microphone relaxed. And when she began to sing, the difference was subtle but unmistakable—a warmth in her tone, a slight imperfection in her breathing that made the performance more human, more real.
By the chorus, her body was moving more naturally, less choreographed. Her eyes remained closed, shutting out their reactions, allowing her to sink deeper into the memory of that summer, that practice room, that time before perfection became her prison.
Giselle exchanged glances with Winter, both of them barely breathing as they watched the transformation unfold. Ningning sat forward, eyes wide with wonder.
As the song ended, Karina opened her eyes, looking momentarily disoriented—as if she'd forgotten where she was, who she was supposed to be.
"That," Giselle said quietly, "was Jimin."
Karina's hand trembled slightly as she lowered the microphone. "I—" she started, then stopped, seemingly at a loss for words.
"You sounded beautiful," Winter said, her voice thick with emotion. "Like you used to."
Karina swallowed hard, visibly struggling to regain her composure. "It wasn't technically perfect."
"It was better than perfect," Giselle insisted. "It was real."
For a moment, Karina stood frozen, caught between worlds—the carefully constructed Karina and the Jimin they'd glimpsed breaking through. Then, slowly, she sank onto the couch, still clutching the microphone like a lifeline.
"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, the admission clearly costing her.
"Do what?" Ningning asked gently.
"Be her again," Karina replied, so quietly they almost didn't hear. "Be Jimin. I've been Karina for so long now."
"You don't have to choose," Winter said, hesitantly placing her hand over Karina's. "You can be both. Just... not all the time."
Karina looked down at their hands, not pulling away but not responding either. The colored lights continued to wash over them in slow waves, casting them all in momentary shadows, then light, then shadows again.
"Next song," Giselle declared, breaking the heavy silence. "Something we've never practiced. Something ridiculous."
She flipped through the catalog, landing on a page with a grin. "Perfect. 'Gee' by Girls' Generation. The song we used to dance to in our pajamas, remember?"
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Karina's mouth—so brief they might have imagined it, but Giselle caught it.
"One more song," Karina conceded, her voice steadier now but lacking its usual polish. "Then we talk about tomorrow's evaluation."
"Deal," Giselle agreed, already punching in the code. She tossed another microphone to Winter, who caught it with a surprised laugh.
As the iconic intro began to play, Giselle watched Karina from the corner of her eye—the way she sat straighter, then consciously made herself relax, the way her fingers tapped against her thigh in the familiar rhythm.
Small steps, Giselle thought. But they were steps in the right direction.
Jimin was waking up.