Chapter Text
The practice room lights buzzed like angry hornets. Winter slouched against the mirrored wall, glaring at the clipboard in Trainer Park’s hands. “Since when do we do evaluations at 2 a.m.?”
“Since management found trainees sneaking out for fried chicken,” Trainer Park said, not looking up. “Group D: Winter, Karina, Giselle, Ningning. Ten minutes to prep. Song’s ‘Black Mamba.’”
Karina’s head snapped up. “That’s not even released yet—”
“—And you’ll learn it wrong like everyone else.” Trainer Park smirked, tossing a USB at her feet. “Clock’s ticking.”
Giselle kicked the door shut behind them. “Well. This’ll be a massacre.”
Ningning hovered near the speakers, eyes wide. “I don’t know the choreo—”
“Nobody does.” Winter stomped to the stereo. “That’s the point.”
Karina already had the track queued up, fingers flying over her phone to transcribe lyrics. “Winter, take chorus one. Giselle, verse two’s rap-heavy—”
“—Who died and made you leader?” Giselle snatched the phone.
“The company,” Karina said flatly. “When they put me in the top five.”
Winter barked a laugh. “Ouch. Someone’s bitter.”
Ningning edged toward the door. “Maybe I should—”
“—*Sit*,” all three snapped in unison.
They froze. Trainer Park’s laughter echoed through the intercom. “Cute. Four minutes.”
—
The track blared—sinister bass, serpentine synths. Karina anchored the center, movements precise as a guillotine. Winter flanked her left, all jagged edges and smirks. Giselle prowled the right, her rap verse dripping sarcasm. Ningning…
“Yah, your high note!” Winter hissed during the bridge.
Ningning froze, then lunged for the mic stand. Her voice cracked—then soared, raw and unpolished, hitting a note that rattled the ceiling lights.
Giselle stumbled mid-spin, caught off guard. Karina’s mask slipped—shock, then pride—before she snapped into the final formation, fingers splayed like claws.
They finished in heaving silence.
Behind the observation glass, two shadows leaned closer.
“The Chinese one’s pitchy,” said Exec A, scribbling notes.
Exec B tapped the glass where Winter was mock-strangling Giselle for botching the rap. “But look at the friction. The hunger.”
Karina hovered near Ningning, subtly adjusting her stance. “Breathe from here,” she muttered, pressing a hand below Ningning’s ribs.
Winter yanked Giselle into a headlock. “That’s how you hit the beat, you tone-deaf—”
“—At least I don’t dance like a electrocuted squid!”
Exec A sighed. “They’ll kill each other.”
Exec B smiled. “Or make us billions.”
—
“Well?” Trainer Park crossed his arms as the girls collapsed, sweat pooling on the floor.
Winter nodded him off. Giselle wheezed into a water bottle. Ningning trembled, still riding the adrenaline high.
Only Karina stood straight, voice steady. “When’s the next eval?”
Behind the glass, a phone snapped shut.
“Pack your things,” Exec B said into the intercom. “You’re moving dorms. Together.”
The room stilled.
Giselle spat out her water. “What?”
Winter lunged for the intercom. “Hell no! I’m not rooming with Miss Perfect and—”
“—Effective immediately,” Exec B continued. “Management believes… synergy requires proximity.”
Karina stared at her reflection—flushed, messy, alive—as Ningning’s shy laugh bubbled up beside her.
“Well,” Giselle muttered, flopping back onto the floor. “This’ll be a disaster.”
Winter caught Karina’s eye. For once, neither looked away.
The intercom crackled dead. Ningning’s shaky exhale sliced through the silence.
“We made it..?” Karina mouthed, fingers curled white around her water bottle.
Winter’s shrug was all sharp angles. “I dunno.”
Giselle lobbed a sweaty towel at the observation glass. “Cool. So we’re lab rats in a nicer cage. When do the shock collars arrive?”
Trainer Park yanked the door open, a stack of dorm keys jangling in his fist. “Move. Now. Before I revoke shower privileges.”
—
The new dorm smelled like lemon disinfectant and false promises. Winter kicked a stray moving box. “Bunk beds? We’re idols, not kindergartners.”
“Speak for yourself,” Giselle said, claiming the top bunk with a backflip that smacked her head on the ceiling. “Agh— Worth it.”
Ningning hovered in the doorway, clutching her rabbit. “Where…?”
Karina nudged the bottom bunk with her toe. “You’re here. With me.”
Winter froze mid-sneer. “What?”
“Top bunks destabilize the spine.” Karina unzipped her duffel, avoiding Winter’s glare. “Vocal impact.”
“Since when do you care about my vocals?”
“Since management paired us.” Karina folded a shirt with military precision. “Your rasp is the only thing covering my high notes.”
Giselle dangled upside down from her bunk, hair brushing Ningning’s face. “Aw. She likes you.”
Winter chucked a sneaker at her. “Shut up.”
Ningning tentatively placed her rabbit on Karina’s pillow. “Is this… okay?”
Karina stared at the plush, its threadbare smile jarring against her monochrome sheets. “…Fine.”
—
Exec A’s voice crackled through a hidden wall speaker: “Sleep. Evaluation at dawn.”
Giselle saluted the ceiling. “Welcome to hell, kids.”
Winter collapsed onto her bunk, boots still on. “If anyone snores, I’m committing treason.”
Karina stood rigid by the window, Seoul’s skyline fracturing her reflection.
“Hey.” Winter’s voice cut through the dark. “You gonna stare at buildings all night?”
“Planning.”
“For what?”
Karina’s silhouette didn’t move. “The moment this stops being a punishment.”
Giselle’s snort came muffled by her pillow. “Optimism. Cute.”
Ningning’s whisper floated up: “What if… it’s not a punishment?”
The room stilled.
Winter’s laugh was all edges. “You think this is a gift?”
“No. But…” Ningning traced her rabbit’s ears. “They’re watching. Closer now.”
Winter opened her mouth, a ‘no shit’ poised on her tongue—
“She’s right.” Karina cut in, still facing the window. Her reflection blurred in the glass, haloed by neon. “Even if we’re not there yet. We’re a notch above the rest now.”
Giselle rolled off her bunk, landing with a thud. “Way I see it, we’re half and half.” She yanked open the mini-fridge, scowling at its vitamin water and boiled eggs. “Two bottom-feeders paired with two top-of-the-food-chain freaks.”
“Freaks?” Winter kicked her bed frame, rattling Giselle’s bunk. “Says the girl who failed three rhythm evals.”
“Says the girl who aced them but still got stuck with us.” Giselle lobbed an egg at her. “Face it. You’re only ‘top’ until they find a shinier toy.”
The egg smacked Winter’s pillow. Ningning flinched.
Karina turned, her silhouette sharp against the city glare. “They won’t. Not if we’re…” She hesitated, the unspoken *together* curdling in the air.
Winter peeled eggshell off her sheets. “Not if we’re what? A team?” She spat the word like a curse. “Please. You’d stab me in the back for a solo shot.”
“Would I?” Karina’s voice stayed calm, deadly. “You’ve had six chances to report me for breaking curfew. Didn’t.”
“Tch. Blackmail.”
Ningning’s whisper sliced through. “They’re listening. Right now.”
A beat. Four pairs of eyes flicked to the air vent—where a red camera light blinked, half-hidden.
Giselle flipped it off. “Enjoy the show.”
Karina moved first, snapping the room’s sole lamp off. Darkness swallowed them, broken only by the camera’s persistent glow.
“New rule,” Winter muttered, voice drifting from her bunk. “We riot at dawn.”
“Seconded,” Giselle said.
Ningning’s mattress creaked as she curled tighter around her rabbit. “…Thirded.”
Karina said nothing. But when the vent’s hum sharpened—a microphone adjusting—she reached over and yanked Winter’s blanket up, covering both their heads.
“*Hey—*”
“Your breathing’s uneven,” Karina lied, too quiet for the mics. “They’ll dock stamina points.”
Winter’s scoff warmed the cramped space between them. “Since when do you cheat?”
“Since they did first.”
Giselle’s phone lit up, casting jagged shadows. A notification: GROUP CHAT CREATED: ‘Lab Rats’
Ningning stifled a giggle. Winter’s shoulders shook—silent, treacherous laughter. Karina’s hand brushed hers, just once, as the camera light pulsed.
Beneath the shared blanket, Winter’s phone screen glared. The group chat blinked:
Giselle: I’ll give it to you, cutie face. This is a smart move.
Winter: Shut up.
Ningning’s mattress squeaked as she typed, her rabbit squished between her chin and knees.
Ningning: (´･ω･`)…but Lab Rats is a good name?
Giselle: Duh. We’re the ones they’re frankensteining into a girl group. A pause. Also: whoever stocked this fridge deserves prison. Who TF puts kimchi next to protein powder?*
Winter’s thumbs hovered, her smirk sharpening. Winter: You’re bottom bunk. Suffer.
Across the room, Giselle’s phone illuminated her eye-roll. She hurled a protein bar at Winter’s bed. It thudded against the wall, unnoticed by the camera’s unblinking eye.
Karina remained motionless, her face half-lit by Seoul’s neon bleed. But her phone glowed beneath the blanket, typing with clinical precision:
Karina: Evaluation criteria: cohesion, stamina, adaptability. Assume hidden mics in the vents.
Winter: Wow. You’re like a creepy Wikipedia.
Karina: And you’re a liability if you keep sitting like that. Your diaphragm’s compressed.
Winter started to retort, but Ningning’s sudden gasp froze them all.
“The rabbit,” Ningning whispered aloud, voice quivering with performative fear. She held up the plush, its ear dangling by a thread. “It’s… broken.”
Giselle caught on first. “Tragedy,” she deadpanned, leaping up to fake-comfort Ningning while shielding her hands. Ningning’s fingers flew across her phone under the guise of clutching her rabbit:
Ningning: I found a microphone in the shower vent too!!! (＠_＠;)
Giselle: Classic. Wanna blast K-pop to drown out their snooping?
Karina: No. We use it.
Winter snorted, loud enough for the mics. “This place is a dump.” Then, quieter in the chat:
Winter: Use it HOW
Karina’s silhouette finally moved, striding to the bathroom. The faucet screeched on. Under its cover, her message flashed:
Karina: They want drama. Give them nothing. Talk here. Plan here. Let them watch us… sleep.
Giselle: Boringggg. I vote we streak through the halls.
Winter: Seconded.
Karina: Winter.
Winter: What? You’re not my mom.
Ningning: (´；д；`)…pls don’t fight…
The camera light flickered faster.
Giselle grinned, tossing a pillow at the vent. “Hey Exec-ssi! Since you’re listening—can we get real food? Or is malnutrition part of the training?”
Silence. Then, a tinny voice crackled: “Sleep. Now.”
Winter fake-snored, obnoxiously loud. Ningning giggled into her rabbit. Karina killed the faucet, returning with her sleeves rolled up—revealing ink-stained forearms.
Giselle: …Since when do you have tats??
Karina: Temp transfers. Choreo notes.
She tossed a marker at Winter. “Fix the rabbit.”
Winter caught it, hesitating. Slowly, under the blanket’s shield, she sketched on Ningning’s plush—a tiny crown atop its head, a scar across one eye.
Ningning beamed. “Now… he’s brave,” she said aloud, for the mics.
Giselle peered over. “Needs a sword.”
“And a middle finger,” Winter muttered, drawing a minuscule bird flipped at the camera.
Karina watched, the ghost of a smile haunting her lips. Her phone lit once more:
Karina: Meet at 5 AM. Stretching. Vocal warm-ups. Together.
Winter’s groan was theatrical. “Ugh, fine.” But her fingers flicked:
Winter: Only ‘cause I want breakfast.
The room settled into counterfeit sleep. Phones dimmed. Shadows deepened.
But in the chat, last messages lingered:
Giselle: Sweet dreams, lab partners.
Ningning: (～￣▽￣)～ *We’ll be ok, right?*
No one replied.