Chapter Text
Ningning shouldered open the apartment door, juggling her dance bag and a half-empty bubble tea. The living room fell silent as she entered. Two executives in crisp suits sat on the couch, while Winter perched rigid on an armchair, fingers digging into the upholstery. Giselle leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight across her chest.
"Sorry I'm late. Practice ran over and—" Ningning froze, scanning the room. "Where's Karina?"
Mr. Park, the taller executive, straightened his tie. "That's what we need to discuss."
"We were waiting for you," added Ms. Choi, her smile not reaching her eyes.
Ningning dropped her bag. "Did something happen? Is she okay?"
"She's fine," Winter said, voice flat. "Physically, anyway."
Giselle shot her a warning glance.
Mr. Park cleared his throat. "Karina has requested to move out of the dorm."
The bubble tea slipped from Ningning's fingers, splashing across the floor. Nobody moved to clean it up.
"Move out? But we're debuting this year." Ningning's voice cracked. "She can't just—"
"She's not leaving the group," Ms. Choi clarified, stepping carefully around the spilled tea. "Just the accommodation. She'll continue training and performing with aespa as planned."
Ningning's shoulders slumped. "Where is she staying?"
Mr. Park cleared his throat. "Karina specifically requested we do not disclose that information."
"You've got to be kidding me." Winter shot to her feet, fists clenched at her sides.
"I assure you, we're not." Ms. Choi's professional smile never faltered.
"So, she really thinks she's a step above us." Winter paced the small space between the coffee table and TV, each step deliberate and sharp.
Giselle pushed off from the wall. "There has to be more to it than that."
"Is there?" Winter challenged, whirling toward the executives. "Did she give you a reason? A real one?"
Mr. Park adjusted his glasses. "She expressed concerns about... creative differences affecting group harmony."
"Creative differences?" Ningning repeated, voice small. "That's corporate speak for 'they hate each other.'"
"Nobody said anything about hate," Ms. Choi interjected.
Winter laughed, a harsh sound that filled the room. "No, Karina would never say that. Too unprofessional."
"This isn't helping," Giselle muttered, then louder: "When did she decide this?"
"Yesterday afternoon," Mr. Park said. "After your practice session."
Ningning sank deeper into the couch. "After our fight."
"I bet she wanted to do this for a while now," Winter said, voice sharp with accusation. "This just was the opportunity."
Mr. Park cleared his throat. "Regardless of timing, the decision has been made."
"How convenient," Winter muttered.
Giselle stepped forward. "Did she say anything else? Leave any message for us?"
Ms. Choi's professional smile tightened. "Only that she'll see you at practice tomorrow. Seven AM sharp."
"Business as usual," Winter scoffed. "Except she gets to retreat to her private sanctuary while we're stuck here dealing with the fallout."
"There needn't be any fallout," Mr. Park said, checking his watch. "This is a professional arrangement, not a personal rejection."
Ningning hugged her knees to her chest. "It feels personal."
"That's your interpretation," Ms. Choi countered. "Karina was clear this was about optimizing performance conditions."
Giselle laughed, short and bitter. "Is that what she called it?"
Winter paced the small living room, each step charged with tension. "Always the perfect trainee. Always the company favorite."
"That's unfair," Mr. Park said, voice hardening. "Karina has earned her position through dedication and talent."
"We've all worked hard," Ningning protested. "For years."
"Some longer than others," Winter added pointedly.
Ms. Choi glanced at her colleague. "Perhaps this separation will give everyone space to... reflect."
"On what?" Giselle demanded. "How easily she abandoned us?"
"She hasn't abandoned the group," Mr. Park insisted. "Just changed living arrangements."
Winter stopped pacing, turning to face the executives directly. "Did she ever actually live here? Really live here? Or was she always just waiting for the right moment to isolate herself?"
"Winter," Giselle warned.
"No, I want to know." Winter crossed her arms. "Was this the plan all along? Build her up as our perfect leader, then separate her from us peasants?"
Mr. Park's professional demeanor cracked slightly. "That's quite enough, Ms. Kim."
"Is it?" Winter challenged. "Because it feels like we're just getting started."
Ningning stood suddenly, surprising everyone. "Can I at least give her something? A note or—"
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Ms. Choi interrupted. "Karina was explicit about maintaining distance."
"For how long?" Ningning's voice cracked.
The executives exchanged glances.
"That remains to be seen," Mr. Park finally answered.
"Indefinitely, then," Giselle translated.
"Until debut, at least," Ms. Choi amended.
Winter laughed, the sound hollow. "Just in time for the cameras to capture our perfect group chemistry."
"I suggest you all get some rest," Mr. Park said, moving toward the door. "Tomorrow's schedule remains unchanged."
"Of course it does," Winter muttered. "The show must go on."
The executives paused at the threshold.
"One more thing," Ms. Choi added. "The company would appreciate discretion regarding this arrangement."
"You want us to lie?" Giselle asked.
"We want you to focus on what matters," Mr. Park corrected. "Your debut. Your future."
"Our image, you mean," Winter shot back.
The door closed behind them with a soft click that somehow felt more final than a slam.
Silence engulfed the apartment, broken only by Ningning's shaky breath.
"I can't believe she did this," she whispered.
Winter dropped onto the couch, energy suddenly drained. "I can. This is who she is now."
"You don't know that," Giselle argued, though without conviction.
"Three years, Giselle." Winter's voice hardened. "I've known her for three years. Watched her transform from Jimin into Karina. This is exactly who she's become."
Ningning hugged herself tighter. "Maybe she just needs space."
"Space from what?" Winter demanded. "From us? From reality?"
"From you, maybe," Giselle suggested quietly.
Winter's head snapped up. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You push her." Giselle met her gaze steadily. "Every day. Every practice. Like you're trying to crack that perfect facade."
"Because it is a facade!" Winter stood again, unable to stay still. "And underneath it is someone who's drowning."
Ningning moved toward Karina's room, pushing the door open wider. The space was immaculate—bed made with hospital corners, closet half-empty but perfectly organized, desk cleared of everything except a single framed photo, turned face-down.
She picked it up, turned it over. Four trainees, arms linked, laughing at some forgotten joke. Before aespa. Before everything changed.
"She left this," Ningning said, returning to the living room.
Winter glanced at the photo, expression darkening. "Probably an oversight."
"Or a message," Giselle suggested.
"What kind of message abandons your group months before debut?" Winter challenged.
Ningning traced the smiling faces in the photo. "What if she's not abandoning us? What if she's protecting herself?"
"From what?" Winter demanded. "From feedback? From reality?"
"From breaking," Giselle said quietly.
The word hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.
Winter's anger deflated slightly. "If she's breaking, she should talk to us. Not run away."
"Maybe she can't," Ningning suggested. "Maybe this is the only way she knows how to hold it together."
Winter shook her head. "By shutting us out?"
"By shutting everything out," Giselle corrected. "Including whatever's happening inside her."
"That's exactly the problem." Winter slammed her palm against the wall. "All she ever does is shut out. Even if she shouted at us yesterday, she might haven't even felt it at all."
Ningning clutched the photo tighter. "Karina wouldn't be like that. She wouldn't fake something so raw."
Winter whirled around, eyes flashing. "You don't know her. Not the real her."
"And you do?" Giselle challenged.
"For three years, I've gravitated around Karina." Winter's voice cracked with emotion. "Everything seems to gravitate around Karina. The perfect trainee. The natural leader. The company's golden girl."
Ningning stepped back, startled by the intensity. "That's not fair."
"Fair?" Winter laughed, a harsh sound that filled the room. "None of this is fair. You know what's not fair? Watching someone hollow themselves out piece by piece until there's nothing left but a perfect, empty shell."
"She's not empty," Ningning protested.
"Isn't she?" Winter snatched the photo from Ningning's hands. "Look at her here. Really look. That smile reached her eyes. When's the last time you saw that?"
Giselle moved between them. "This isn't helping."
"No, I want to know." Winter thrust the photo toward Ningning. "When's the last time you saw Karina—not performing Karina, not leader Karina—but the actual person underneath, genuinely happy?"
Ningning opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"Exactly." Winter tossed the photo onto the coffee table. "You can't remember because it doesn't happen anymore."
"People change," Giselle said quietly. "Especially in this industry."
"Change, yes. Disappear, no." Winter paced the small living room, unable to contain her energy. "She's constructed this perfect facade, and we're all supposed to pretend we don't notice the cost."
"Maybe the cost is worth it to her," Giselle suggested.
"Exactly. Everything is about her." Winter's voice cracked with frustration as she paced the living room. "Her choices. Her career. Her image."
Giselle recoiled slightly. "That's not what I meant."
"Isn't it?" Winter stopped abruptly, turning to face Giselle. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you the one that yesterday was so fixed on having her stand her own ground?"
Giselle flinched, looking away. She nodded, guilt flashing across her face.
"You pushed her," Winter continued, jabbing a finger in Giselle's direction. "All that talk about authenticity and not surrendering to the system. And now you're making excuses for her?"
"I didn't think she'd leave," Giselle admitted quietly.
Ningning glanced between them. "This isn't helping."
"No?" Winter challenged. "Because it seems like we're finally getting to the truth. We all pushed her, but none of us expected her to push back. Not like this."
Giselle crossed her arms, defensive. "I was trying to help her."
"Help her what? Crack? Because congratulations, it worked." Winter swept her arm toward Karina's empty room.
"That's not fair." Giselle's voice hardened. "I wanted her to be real with us."
"And when she finally was—when she finally showed some actual emotion—what happened?" Winter didn't wait for an answer. "We couldn't handle it. And neither could she."
Ningning picked up the photo from the coffee table, studying it. "Maybe she's scared."
"Of what?" Winter demanded.
"Of us seeing her like that." Ningning traced Karina's smiling face in the photo. "Vulnerable. Out of control."
Giselle sank onto the couch. "I didn't mean to make things worse."
"None of us did," Winter sighed, anger deflating slightly. "But we all played our part."
Silence settled over them, heavy with realization.
"So what now?" Ningning finally asked.
Winter ran a hand through her hair. "Now we have to decide: do we let her hide, or do we force the issue?"
"Force how?" Giselle asked, wariness in her tone.
"We could refuse to practice without her living here," Winter suggested.
Ningning's eyes widened. "The company would never allow that."
"Exactly." Winter's expression hardened with determination. "They'd have to choose: force her back or delay debut."
"That's manipulative," Giselle pointed out.
"So is moving out without telling us," Winter countered.
Ningning placed the photo back on the table. "There has to be another way."
"Like what?" Winter challenged. "Asking nicely? Because that's worked so well in the past."
"We could try understanding," Ningning suggested quietly.
"Know what? You're right," Winter said, voice suddenly calm. "I'll show my empathy for her."
She yanked her phone from her pocket, fingers tapping the screen with deliberate precision.
Giselle straightened. "What are you doing?"
"Being empathetic." Winter's smile didn't reach her eyes as she put the phone on speaker.
The automated voice announcement filled the room: "The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message after the tone."
Ningning lunged forward. "Winter, don't—"
Winter stepped back, holding the phone away. The beep sounded.
"Hey, thank you for being an asshole to me yesterday," Winter started, voice dripping with false sweetness. "And thank you for showing me that I, alongside everyone else, was a fucking stepping stone on your way to success."
Giselle grabbed for the phone. Winter dodged.
"Thank you Karina, thank you for saying fuck you to the last three years of our lives." Winter's voice cracked on the last word, raw emotion breaking through the sarcasm.
Ningning froze, hand covering her mouth.
"Did you plan this all along?" Winter continued, pacing now. "Was this your exit strategy? Push us away before we could see how hollow you've become?"
Giselle made another grab for the phone. "That's enough!"
Winter twisted away. "Or maybe you're just a coward. Too scared to face what you've done—what you've become."
Ningning finally moved, snatching the phone from Winter's hand and ending the call. "What is wrong with you?"
Winter's chest heaved, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Me? What's wrong with me? Ask her. Ask your perfect leader why she abandoned us months before debut."
"This isn't helping," Giselle insisted, taking the phone from Ningning.
"Nothing is helping!" Winter shouted, voice bouncing off the apartment walls. "Nothing we do matters because she's already gone."
Ningning stepped back, startled by the outburst.
Winter continued, unable to stop now that the dam had broken. "Three years, Ningning. Three years I watched her change. Become someone else. Someone harder. Colder. More perfect."
"Winter—" Giselle tried.
"No, you need to hear this." Winter jabbed a finger in their direction. "You think you know Karina? You don't. You know the version she lets you see. The calculated, controlled, company-approved version."
Ningning's voice was small. "That's not fair."
"Fair?" Winter laughed, a harsh sound. "Nothing about this is fair. You know what's not fair? Watching someone you care about disappear piece by piece and being powerless to stop it."
Giselle's expression softened. "You're not just angry. You're hurt."
"Of course I'm hurt!" Winter's voice cracked again. "Wouldn't you be? If someone you—" She cut herself off.
Ningning and Giselle exchanged glances.
"If someone you what?" Giselle prompted gently.
Winter turned away, facing Karina's empty room. "It doesn't matter now."
Ningning approached cautiously. "It matters to us."
"Why?" Winter demanded, not turning around. "It clearly didn't matter to her."
"You don't know that," Ningning insisted.
Winter's shoulders slumped. "I know she left without saying goodbye. I know she changed her number. I know she told the company not to tell us where she is."
"People do strange things when they're hurting," Giselle offered.
Winter whirled around, eyes flashing. "Excuse me, I don't get how you could be this empathetic when you were so fixed on bringing Jimin back. Maybe Karina was right about one thing, Jimin is gone."
"What are you talking about?" Giselle stepped back, caught off guard by the sudden shift.
"Yesterday." Winter advanced, voice rising. "All your talk about authenticity and not surrendering to the system. Pushing her to be someone she's not anymore."
Giselle's back hit the wall. "I was trying to help!"
"Help who?" Winter demanded. "Karina? Or some version of her that doesn't exist anymore?"
Ningning moved between them. "Stop it."
Winter brushed past her. "No, I want to hear Giselle explain why she gets to play both sides. One day demanding Karina be more authentic, the next defending her running away."
"I'm not defending her!" Giselle shouted, fear cracking through her composure. "I'm trying to understand why she'd do this to us!"
The apartment fell silent, her words echoing off the walls.
Winter's expression shifted, a cold smile spreading across her face. "Glad we're on the same page now."
Giselle slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. "What page is that?"
"That she did this to us," Winter emphasized. "Not for herself. Not for some noble reason. To us."
Ningning hovered uncertainly between them. "Maybe it's both."
"It can't be both," Winter insisted. "Either she's the victim or we are."
"That's not how people work," Giselle countered, voice steadier now. "It's not that simple."
Winter crossed her arms. "Seems pretty simple to me. She left. Without warning. Without discussion. Without a backward glance."
"We don't know that," Ningning protested.
"Don't we?" Winter gestured around the apartment. "Look around. She cleared out while we were gone. Changed her number. Told the company to keep her location secret."
Giselle hugged her knees to her chest. "Maybe she needed a clean break."
"From what?" Winter demanded. "From us? What did we do that was so terrible?"
"We saw her," Ningning said quietly.
Winter and Giselle both turned to her.
"What?" Winter asked.
Ningning met her gaze steadily. "Yesterday. We saw her. The real her. Not leader Karina. Not perfect Karina. The messy, angry, scared version she's been hiding."
Winter's shoulders slumped slightly. "And that was enough to make her run?"
"Maybe," Giselle said, pushing herself up from the floor. "If she's spent years building that perfect image, having it shatter in front of us might have been..."
"Devastating," Ningning finished.
Winter paced the small living room, energy rolling off her in waves. "So what, we're supposed to feel sorry for her now? After what she did?"
"I don't know what we're supposed to feel," Giselle admitted. "I just know I'm tired of being angry."
"Well, I'm not," Winter shot back. "I'm just getting started."
Ningning moved to the window, staring out at the Seoul skyline. "Being angry won't bring her back."
"Who says I want her back?" Winter challenged.
Giselle and Ningning exchanged glances.
"Don't you?" Giselle asked quietly.
Winter stopped pacing, tension visible in every line of her body. "I want Jimin back. But she's gone. Karina made sure of that."
"People change," Giselle said. "We all have."
"Not like her," Winter insisted. "She didn't just change. She erased herself. Built something new on top of the ashes."
Ningning turned from the window. "Maybe that's what she had to do to survive."
"Survive what?" Winter demanded. "Training? The company? Us?"
Silence answered her.
Winter's expression cracked, vulnerability showing through. "Was it me? Did I push her away?"
"Winter—" Giselle started.
"No, I want to know." Winter's voice wavered. "Was I the reason? The final straw?"
Ningning approached her cautiously. "I don't think it was any one thing."
"Of course it wasn't." Winter laughed bitterly, raking fingers through her hair. "Whenever something like this happened to Karina, we'd be on our toes making theories about what it might be. But has she ever done the same for us?"
Giselle frowned. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" Winter spun to face her. "When was the last time Karina asked how you were feeling? Really asked, not just checking boxes on her leader duties."
Giselle opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"Exactly." Winter paced the room, energy crackling around her. "She's built this perfect wall between herself and everyone else. We're not teammates to her. We're responsibilities."
Ningning shook her head. "You don't know that."
"Don't I?" Winter stopped, eyes flashing. "Three years. Three years watching her transform into whatever the company wanted. Three years of her pulling away, piece by piece."
"Maybe she had to," Giselle suggested quietly.
"Had to what? Shut us out? Treat us like we're beneath her?" Winter's voice rose. "Because that's what this is. Her final statement that she's above us."
Ningning glanced at Karina's empty room. "I think she's scared."
"Of what?" Winter demanded.
"Of being human," Ningning said simply. "Of making mistakes. Of letting people see her fall."
The words hung in the air between them.
Winter's shoulders slumped slightly. "Then she's a coward."
"Or she's protecting herself the only way she knows how," Giselle countered.
"By hurting us?" Winter challenged.
"Maybe she doesn't see it that way," Ningning suggested.
Winter snatched the photo from the coffee table. "Look at this. Look at her face here. She knew exactly who she was then."
"People change," Giselle said.
"You know what? You're right." Winter's voice hardened, her posture straightening with sudden resolve. "I should change. I should make up for wasting three years of my life running behind her."
She strode to Karina's room, shoving the door fully open so it banged against the wall.
"Winter, what are you—" Ningning started.
"She wants to run away? Fine, so be it." Winter yanked open Karina's closet, grabbing the few remaining clothes. "I'm through running after her."
Giselle rushed forward. "Stop!"
Winter ignored her, tossing Karina's clothes onto the bed. "Three years. Three years of adjusting to her moods, walking on eggshells around her insecurities, pretending not to notice when she'd disappear into herself."
She moved to the desk, sweeping the remaining items into her arms.
"This isn't helping," Ningning pleaded.
"Isn't it?" Winter challenged, dumping everything onto the growing pile. "Because it feels pretty damn therapeutic to me."
Giselle grabbed her arm. "This is childish."
Winter wrenched away. "No, childish is disappearing without a word. Childish is changing your number so no one can reach you. Childish is telling the company to keep your location secret from your own group members."
Her voice rose with each accusation, filling the small room.
"You're angry," Giselle acknowledged. "We all are. But this—"
"This is me changing," Winter cut her off. "This is me finally accepting what she's been telling us all along: we don't matter to her."
Ningning stepped between Winter and the bed. "You don't believe that."
"Don't I?" Winter's laugh held no humor. "Look around, Ningning. Look at the evidence. She's gone. She chose to leave."
"We don't know the whole story," Giselle insisted.
Winter threw up her hands. "There is no story! There's just Karina, making decisions for herself, by herself, like always."
She moved to the nightstand, yanking open the drawer.
"What are you even doing?" Ningning asked.
"Clearing the space," Winter answered, voice tight. "Since she's so eager to erase herself from our lives, I'm just helping the process along."
Giselle crossed her arms. "And then what? We pretend she doesn't exist?"
"No," Winter said, slamming the drawer shut. "We accept reality. She's our groupmate, not our friend. Our colleague, not our sister. Just another trainee who got lucky enough to debut."
Ningning's voice was small. "You don't mean that."
"Don't I?" Winter challenged. "Because from where I'm standing, that's exactly how she's treating us."
She gathered the pile of Karina's belongings, marching toward the front door.
Giselle blocked her path. "What are you doing?"
"Taking out the trash," Winter said coldly.
"Those are her things," Ningning protested.
"Things she left behind," Winter countered. "Things she clearly doesn't care about."
Giselle stood her ground. "You can't just throw them away."
"Watch me." Winter tried to step around her.
Giselle didn't budge. "This isn't you, Winter."
"Isn't it?" Winter's voice cracked slightly. "Maybe this is exactly who I am when I stop letting someone else define me."
The accusation lay beneath her words—that Karina had somehow shaped her, controlled her, defined her for too long.
Ningning approached cautiously. "Winter, please. Put her things down."
"Why?" Winter demanded. "Why should I care about her stuff when she clearly doesn't care about us?"
"Because you're better than this," Giselle said simply.
"Right. I actually care about myself." Winter's eyes flashed with sudden resolve. She spun around, marching toward the balcony door.
Ningning lunged forward. "Winter, don't—"
Too late. Winter slid the door open with her foot, the night air rushing in as she hurled Karina's belongings over the railing. Clothes fluttered like wounded birds, disappearing into the darkness fourteen floors below.
"What are you doing!?" Giselle screamed, rushing to the balcony.
Winter tossed the last item—a notebook—watching it spiral downward. "Letting go."
Ningning stood frozen, hand over her mouth. "Those were her things."
"Things she left behind," Winter corrected, sliding the door shut with a decisive click. "Just like us."
Giselle grabbed Winter's arm. "Have you lost your mind?"
Winter wrenched free. "No. I've finally found it."
She stalked back to the living room, energy crackling around her like electricity. "I'll tell you what, I don't need more enemies. And I don't get to pick sides, but if you two want to stand between me and Karina—" She jabbed a finger at both of them. "Fine, so be it. You'll know what it's like to be in the middle of a problem you don't want a part in."
Ningning backed away, bumping into the coffee table. "Nobody's picking sides."
"Aren't you?" Winter challenged. "Defending her? Making excuses for her?"
"We're trying to understand," Giselle insisted, voice shaking.
"Understand what?" Winter demanded. "That she abandoned us? That she thinks she's too good for us now?"
Giselle shook her head. "You're not thinking clearly."
"I'm thinking more clearly than I have in years." Winter paced the room, unable to contain her energy. "For the first time, I see her for exactly what she is—selfish."
Ningning's voice was small. "What about the group?"
"What group?" Winter laughed, harsh and brittle. "We're not a group. We're four strangers the company threw together."
"That's not true," Giselle protested.
"Isn't it?" Winter challenged. "Tell me one thing—one real thing—you know about Karina. Not her favorite color or food. Something real."
Silence answered her.
"Exactly." Winter's smile held no warmth. "Because she never let us in. And now she's made it official."
Giselle moved cautiously toward the phone. "I'm calling her."
"Good luck with that," Winter scoffed. "She changed her number, remember?"
"I'm calling the company then," Giselle amended. "This has gone too far."
Winter stepped between Giselle and the phone. "Go ahead. Tell them everything. How I threw her precious things out the window. How I'm not being a good little trainee. See how fast they replace me."
Fear flashed across Giselle's face. "I wouldn't—"
"Wouldn't you?" Winter pressed. "If it meant saving the group? Saving your debut?"
Ningning finally found her voice. "Stop it! Both of you!"
The shout—so uncharacteristic from the youngest—startled them both.
Ningning continued, hands trembling but voice steady. "This is exactly what they want. For us to fall apart."
"Who's they?" Winter asked.
"The company. The system. Everyone who benefits when we turn on each other instead of supporting each other." Ningning stepped forward, suddenly looking older than her years. "Karina left. That hurts. But destroying ourselves won't bring her back."
Winter's shoulders slumped slightly. "Maybe I don't want her back."
"Don't you?" Ningning challenged.
Winter turned away, facing the dark window. "Not like this. Not as someone who can just walk away without a backward glance."
Giselle approached cautiously. "Then tell her that. Tomorrow. Face to face."
Winter stepped forward, closing the distance until she stood inches from Giselle. "Trust me, I will."
Something in her tone—cold, determined, final—made Giselle step back.
"Winter—" she started.
"Don't worry." Winter's smile didn't reach her eyes. "I won't embarrass the group. I won't jeopardize our precious debut."
Ningning moved between them. "That's not what we're worried about."
"No?" Winter challenged. "Then what?"
"You," Ningning said simply. "We're worried about you."
Winter laughed, short and bitter. "Don't be. I'm fine. Better than fine, actually."
"You just threw someone's belongings out a fourteenth-story window," Giselle pointed out.
"Minor detail." Winter waved dismissively, but her hand trembled slightly. "Tomorrow's a new day. Fresh start."
Giselle and Ningning exchanged concerned glances.
"What are you planning?" Giselle asked directly.
Winter's expression hardened. "Nothing. Just a conversation long overdue."
"Winter," Ningning's voice was gentle but firm. "Please don't make things worse."
"Worse than what?" Winter demanded. "Worse than our leader abandoning us months before debut? Worse than her changing her number so we can't reach her? Worse than her telling the company to keep her location secret from us?"
Neither had an answer.
Winter nodded, taking their silence as agreement. "Exactly. There is no worse. We've hit rock bottom."
"That's not true," Giselle insisted. "We're still a group. We're still debuting."
"Are we?" Winter challenged. "Because from where I'm standing, we're three girls left to our own."
Ningning flinched. "You don't mean that."
"Don't I?" Winter turned to her. "Look around you. Look at this place. You really think I don’t mean any of this?"
Silence answered her.
"That's what I thought." Winter moved toward her room. "Get some sleep. We have practice at seven."
"Winter, wait." Giselle caught her arm. "Promise me you won't do anything rash tomorrow."
Winter stared at Giselle's hand until she released her grip. "Define rash."
"You know what I mean," Giselle said.
Winter's smile was sharp enough to cut. "I promise to be completely professional. Isn't that what Karina would want?"
Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared into her room, the door clicking shut behind her.
Giselle turned to Ningning. "This isn't going to end well, is it?"
"I don't know," Ningning admitted. "But I do know one thing."
"What?"
"Tomorrow is going to change everything." Ningning glanced at Karina's empty room. "For better or worse."
In her room, Winter sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone. Her thumb hovered over Karina's contact—the old number, now disconnected. The profile picture showed them together, arms around each other's shoulders, smiling at some forgotten joke.
"Goodbye, Jimin," she whispered, deleting the contact. "I won't be looking for you anymore."
She set her alarm for 5:30 AM. She wanted to be the first one at practice tomorrow.
Karina wasn't the only one who could make an entrance.