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Chapter Text

The Stray Kids practice room always felt like a second dorm—messy, loud, and utterly secure. For five years, Y/N had been the group’s secret weapon and its cherished younger sister, or sometimes, older sister, depending on the day. Being the only female in an eight-member boy group meant zero awkwardness and maximum chaos.

“Yah, Y/N! Toss me that bottle, my hands are too greasy to touch anything clean,” Changbin grunted, mid-floor sit-up.

You flicked the water bottle across the room with practiced ease. Chan, sitting beside you reviewing lyrics, simply chuckled. “You spoil them too much,” he murmured, ruffling your hair. Your relationship with the eight boys—Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin—was a solid, nine-piece foundation, built on late-night studio sessions, shared instant ramen, and fierce loyalty. They were your family, and your role was clear: the irreplaceable ninth member.

That comfortable ecosystem was shaken up on a Tuesday afternoon.

A rare full-group meeting was called in the main conference room, with JYP himself seated at the head of the long table. The air was thick with serious expectation.

“Stray Kids has shown incredible growth,” J.Y. Park began, his tone serious. “For the upcoming concept, we believe the music requires a new layer of vocal color and visual dynamic. Therefore, we are adding a temporary, promoted member for the next cycle.”

You exchanged a confused glance with Felix, who was seated next to you. A temporary member? This had never happened.

“Please welcome Jihye,” he announced, gesturing toward the door.

A girl walked in. She was undeniably beautiful, styled perfectly in a soft, bright yellow sweater and perfectly distressed jeans. But it wasn't her appearance that made the room tense; it was the way she entered. She didn't greet the room as a whole. Instead, her eyes went straight to the eight boys, and she offered a shy, wide-eyed smile that managed to be both innocent and overly calculated.

“Hello sunbaenims,” she whispered, her voice immediately pitched high. She then turned slightly, facing the boys, and did a deep, elegant bow. She paused before the bow was complete, seemingly waiting for a response.

Chan cleared his throat and offered a warm, professional smile. “Welcome to the team, Jihye-ssi. We’re SKZ’s leader, Chan, and these are my members.” He went through the introductions quickly.

When he got to you, he placed a hand on your shoulder. “And this is Y/N, our main vocalist and dancer, and our only female member.”

Jihye straightened up completely, offering you a brief, polite nod—a stark contrast to the dramatic bow she’d given the boys. She then immediately leaned toward Minho, tilting her head.

“Oh my goodness, oppa,” she chirped, using the honorific for an older brother that only true close friends or family use, completely ignoring the professional distance. “Your hair color is so cool. It must be so difficult to maintain, right? I bet you need someone to help you take care of it.” She then made a point of sighing dramatically.

The boys froze. Even the usually unflappable Minho looked taken aback by the sudden, overly personal attention. Jihye, however, seemed to bask in the sudden silence, her eyes sparkling as she waited for Minho to respond. Your hand, which had been resting on the table, curled into a silent, frustrated fist.

It hasn't even been five minutes, you thought. And she’s already trying to erase the last five years.

Chapter Text

The introduction of Jihye-ssi quickly turned the Stray Kids’ well-oiled machine into something slightly bumpy and off-kilter. The nine members now shared schedules, and Jihye used every moment of proximity to insert herself into established routines, acting as a gentle wedge between Y/N and her best friends.

In the rehearsal studio, the small shifts began immediately. Usually, during a ten-minute water break, Y/N and Felix would stretch on the floor together, practicing the English they'd learned or just sharing quiet complaints about their aching muscles.

This time, as Y/N reached for her towel, Jihye hurried over to Felix. “Oppa, could you check my pronunciation on that rap line? I need a native speaker’s ear,” she said, her voice breathy, leaning close enough that Felix had to adjust his posture to accommodate her. Felix, ever polite, immediately agreed.

“Sure, Jihye-ssi, I can help,” Felix replied, genuinely focused on being a good sunbae. He glanced over at Y/N, mouthing, Wait for me? But by the time Y/N finished her quick drink, Jihye was already moving Felix to a corner of the room, their backs to everyone else, turning their quiet break into a private lesson.

The most frustrating changes happened during meal times. Stray Kids had a hierarchy and a seating chart, not written down, but instinctively followed. Y/N usually sat between the Maknae, Jeongin, and one of the dancers, often Hyunjin or Minho.

One evening, as the group settled down for a late-night delivery of jjajangmyeon, Y/N headed for her usual spot next to Jeongin.

“Ah, wait, Y/N-ssi,” Jihye said sweetly, stopping her mid-step. She was already settled next to Hyunjin. “I need to sit right here, next to Hyunjin-oppa and Jeongin. I’m having really bad anxiety about my lines, and I need a grounding buddy on each side. It’s the only way I can eat.” She offered a sad, wide-eyed look.

Hyunjin, worried, immediately put a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, Jihye, of course. Stay right there. Y/N, can you just grab that end seat?”

Y/N felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach. She forced a smile. “Of course, no problem.”

For the rest of the meal, she sat awkwardly at the corner of the table, listening to the boys—Jeongin included—fuss over Jihye's supposed nerves, asking if she was eating enough and making sure she had the best pieces of meat. The conversation that usually bounced across the table, always including Y/N, now seemed to stop just before it reached her end.

The final straw came during 3RACHA's (Chan, Changbin, and Jisung) shared studio time. Y/N often sat in on their sessions, quietly writing melodies or just offering a fresh perspective. She knocked and found them all bent over the main computer.

“Hey, guys, is there space for one more?” she asked cheerfully, holding up a new lyric sheet.

“Of course, come in,” Chan said distractedly, but Jihye’s voice cut in first.

“Oppa, I just found this amazing new demo beat, and I really think it would fit the bridge better than the one you have,” Jihye said, taking the headphones off Chan and putting them on herself. “Can I show you?” She leaned in, keeping Chan’s attention completely locked on her laptop screen.

Changbin looked up at Y/N with a tired but friendly expression. “We’re deep in the weeds right now, Y/N. This is the last push before the deadline. Maybe catch us tomorrow?”

Y/N simply nodded, feeling foolish for even asking. The comfortable, shared space felt suddenly crowded and unwelcoming.

As she walked back toward her own small workspace, she overheard Jisung laughing loudly at something Jihye had said. The sound, normally comforting, now felt distant.

Later that night, Jisung found her practicing a difficult footwork sequence alone. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been really quiet all week,” he said, genuinely concerned.

Y/N forced a shrug. “Just focused on the choreo. I guess I’m just feeling the pressure of the comeback.”

Jisung nodded easily, missing the strained look in her eyes. “Yeah, it’s tough. You know, Jihye-ssi has been a lot to deal with, too. She seems so nervous about everything. I feel bad for her. We all need to make sure we’re supporting her, since she’s new, right?”

He clapped her shoulder and walked away, completely unaware that in his effort to support the "new girl," he was unknowingly dismissing the quiet pain of the girl who had always been there. Y/N stood alone in the silence, realizing that her brothers were too kind, too busy, and too easily distracted to see what was truly happening.

Chapter Text

The isolation Y/N felt wasn't sudden or dramatic; it was a slow, quiet erosion of her presence. Since the boys were genuinely focused on the demanding comeback schedule and treating Jihye with the protective kindness they'd show any new, nervous teammate, Y/N decided to test how much space she could take up before they noticed. The answer was a lot.

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Y/N started small. She stopped waiting in the dorm living room for the shared morning car ride. Usually, she and Seungmin would argue over who got the aux cord, a playful routine that marked the start of their day. Now, she simply left 20 minutes earlier, walking to the company building by herself while listening to music.

Minho: The first day, he asked Chan, "Did Y/N go ahead?" Chan, distracted by a management text, just shrugged, "Must have. We'll see her soon." And that was the end of it.

Another sacred ritual was the late-night kitchen session. After practice, Y/N, Changbin, and Minho often made instant ramen together, sharing stories from the day. Y/N stopped showing up. When Changbin mentioned it to her in the hallway, she just smiled tightly.

“Oh, I’ve been so tired, oppa. Just going straight to bed. I need my beauty rest!”

“Smart,” Changbin said, nodding seriously, entirely missing the lie. “You should take care of yourself. This comeback is brutal.”

The hardest to skip was the pre-debut video game tournament with Hyunjin and Jisung. For years, they had paused practice every Thursday at 6 PM for their fierce, three-person competition. This week, Y/N told them she had vocal coaching at that exact time.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Hyunjin said, frowning briefly at his console, not at her. “Well, Jihye-ssi said she used to be an avid gamer, so she can fill in for you this week! Right, Jihye?”

Jihye, who was conveniently leaning against the wall waiting for the invitation, beamed. “I’m not as good as Y/N-ssi, of course,” she cooed, a subtle dig at Y/N's competitiveness, “but I’ll try my best to keep your team spirit up!”

Y/N watched the three of them start their game, the usual shouts and laughter ringing out. She sat alone in the quiet waiting room, realizing they hadn't even offered to reschedule the tournament.

The Laughing Silence

Jihye wasn't subtle in her manipulation, but her tactics were brilliant in their plausible deniability. She made her comments sound like observations about group dynamics or self-deprecating humor.

During a choreography run-through, Y/N, focused on nailing a difficult jump she’d been struggling with, finally landed it perfectly. Everyone clapped.

“Amazing, Y/N!” Chan cheered.

Jihye giggled, clapping lightly. “Wow, I’m so impressed! It must be so hard to maintain that level of energy when you’ve been doing this for so long. I mean, Y/N-ssi is practically ancient by idol standards, right, oppas? It’s inspiring that she still has the motivation!”

It was the "ancient" comment that stung. She was barely a year older than Jeongin.

The boys, however, missed the malice. Jisung snorted and elbowed Chan. “She called Y/N ancient! You heard that, right, Chan? That’s what we’ve been saying about you!” Chan playfully chased Jisung, and they were all laughing—a loud, booming noise that swallowed the snide comment and made it sound like a joke. They were laughing with Jihye, and inadvertently, at Y/N.

Another time, after a long interview, Jihye was doing a short live stream with Felix and Jeongin. Y/N was sitting quietly off-camera, drinking water.

“You know, I’m still figuring out the group dynamic,” Jihye told the camera with a cute, confused wrinkle of her nose. “It’s hard because the oppas are all so sweet and gentle with me. But Y/N-ssi…” She paused and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “She’s so… firm. Like a teacher or a main character. I get a little intimidated, to be honest. I keep wondering what I did wrong.”

Felix immediately looked concerned. “Oh, Y/N doesn’t mean to be intimidating, Jihye. She’s just very focused on work. That’s her leadership style, right?”

Jeongin chimed in with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, she definitely tells us what to do! It's just Y/N being Y/N! It’s like having a second mom sometimes.”

The camera saw Felix and Jeongin chuckling warmly, validating Jihye's description of Y/N as bossy or scary, rather than recognizing it as a direct accusation. Y/N stared into her water bottle, the familiar feeling of being the “tough one” suddenly feeling like a prison.

That night, lying in her bed, Y/N didn't cry. She just felt hollowed out. They didn't see Jihye’s comments, didn't notice her absence, and didn't realize how much they were hurting her. They were too busy being kind to the new girl to remember the girl who had always been there.

If my presence doesn’t matter, Y/N thought, closing her eyes, then maybe my absence won’t either.

She decided that tomorrow, she wouldn't just skip the morning ride. She would skip the full day of filming, and she wouldn't tell anyone.

Chapter Text

The full day of filming Y/N skipped didn't lead to the confrontation or realization she subconsciously craved. Instead, she arrived the following morning with a prepared excuse about an intense, unexpected migraine that required her to rest completely.

“Ah, that’s rough, Y/N-ah,” Chan said, genuinely sympathetic, without any suspicion. “You should have just texted me. The manager was a little stressed, but we covered your parts fine. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

Jihye, however, caught her eye and gave a small, knowing smirk—a silent signal that she understood Y/N’s attempted escape and saw that it had failed to get the desired reaction.

Seeing that her grand gesture had barely registered as a logistical blip, Y/N solidified her strategy of quiet separation. She decided to become, effectively, invisible.

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Y/N completely stopped using shared transportation. She started taking taxis or the subway everywhere, claiming she needed the time alone to listen to demo tracks and get into the right headspace.

When the eight boys piled into their van, Jisung would occasionally ask, “Where’s Y/N?” before someone else immediately answered.

“She took off early. Said she had a song idea she needed to record privately before the day started,” Changbin would reply, relaying a partial truth Y/N had carefully fed him. The statement made her sound dedicated and professional, not alienated.

They stopped waiting for her for anything. Mealtimes became Jihye’s stage. She would sit between Hyunjin and Felix, keeping their conversation light and focused on her struggles with the choreography, her cute mistakes, or her veryspecific dietary needs.

One afternoon, Minho, scanning the takeout menu, hesitated. “Wait, where’s Y/N? We should ask her what she wants.”

Jihye immediately piped up. “Oh, she told me she brought her own separate lunch! She said it was something complicated—a special diet she's on to ‘maintain focus.’ So don’t worry about her, oppa! Just order what we usually get.”

Minho, already tired from practice, nodded without giving it a second thought. “Okay, then let's get the spicy stew.”

Y/N, sitting in a quiet corner of the waiting room eating a plain sandwich she had brought, overheard the entire exchange. It wasn’t just that they didn't wait; it was that they readily accepted the narrative Jihye created about her—that Y/N was too busy, too dedicated, or too demanding to be part of their normal routine.

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Jihye’s small comments continued to chip away at Y/N’s reputation.

During a behind-the-scenes shoot, the director asked Y/N about an ad-lib she'd spontaneously created for the track. Chan praised it highly.

“That’s so great, Y/N-ssi,” Jihye commented, smiling brightly. “I wish I had been here for those brainstorming sessions! I’m still learning how to put my own flair into the music, but I guess when you’re a veteran, you just know all the tricks, right? I feel like I’m starting from zero, and Y/N-ssi is miles ahead!”

The term “veteran” was usually a compliment, but Jihye delivered it with a subtle, mocking tone that implied Y/N was stuck in her old ways.

Seungmin, listening nearby, just laughed. “She’s not a veteran, Jihye! She’s just the bossy one!” He ruffled Y/N’s hair affectionately. “She tells us if a line is bad. You know, like a harsh older sister.”

The boys’ laughter followed, turning the hurtful jab into a harmless joke about Y/N’s personality. The nickname "harsh older sister" stung because, in their eyes, Y/N was the reliable rock, while Jihye was the fragile newcomer who needed protection and compliments.

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The album concept was finally complete, and the director announced they would all celebrate with their annual tradition: a surprise movie marathon back at the dorm, complete with their favorite snacks and late-night talks. It was a tradition Y/N had started five years ago.

Before Y/N could even voice her excitement, Jihye clapped her hands together. “Oh, a movie night! That sounds so boring after all that work! We should go to the new Escape Room near the company. They have a limited-time horror theme. Oppa, can we? I’m terrified of horror, but I can only go if Minho-oppa holds my hand!” She fluttered her eyelashes at Minho.

Minho, a huge fan of escape rooms and flattered by the direct plea, grinned. “An escape room? Yes! That sounds way more fun than sitting around. Chan, can we?”

Chan, eager to keep everyone happy, agreed easily. “Sure, let’s do the Escape Room. We can do the movie marathon next month, Y/N. This sounds more exciting for now, right?”

Eight voices enthusiastically agreed, talking over each other about who would be the bravest. Not a single person asked Y/N which she preferred, or remembered that the movie night was her tradition.

Y/N stood by the doorway, her excitement for her favorite tradition curdling into deep disappointment. She looked at the eight people she loved most, who were now planning an activity centered around Jihye’s fear and Minho’s excitement. They weren't bad or mean, just entirely oblivious.

She pulled her phone out and texted the group chat, a message so normal and professional it would blend right in: “I have a last-minute appointment I can’t reschedule. Have fun at the Escape Room. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

She then walked out, knowing that out of the nine members, only one would truly understand why she wasn’t going. And that person was the one who put the "appointment" there in the first place.

Chapter Text

Y/N found her sanctuary not in solitude, but in the effortless camaraderie of Tomorrow X Together (TXT). She and several TXT members—especially Soobin and Yeonjun, whom she’d known since her trainee days—had always been close, but now their dorm and studio became her unofficial second home.

With TXT, there was no performative fragility, no need to prove her worth, and no one trying to steal the spotlight. They just let her exist.

One evening, Y/N was curled up on TXT’s massive living room sofa, genuinely laughing as Yeonjun and Beomgyu struggled through a challenging new choreography section they were trying to teach each other. They made ridiculous mistakes, and their genuine, unforced laughter was exactly what Y/N needed. Taehyun was next to her, sharing his headphones so they could both edit their individual demo tracks in silence.

“You look comfortable, N/N,” Soobin commented, handing her a glass of juice.

“I am,” she replied, the smile reaching her eyes for the first time in weeks. “It’s quiet here.”

“Quiet is good sometimes,” Soobin agreed, sitting on the floor by her feet. “But seriously, you’re welcome here any time. We love having a fellow busy person to complain to.”

Y/N felt a sense of relief she hadn't realized she was missing. They weren't demanding her attention, but they were happy she was there. She was simply included, without effort or apology.

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Back at the SKZ dorm, a week after the Escape Room, Chan called a surprise meeting in the studio. He had a rare Friday night off, and he decided they were going to finally do the traditional movie marathon they had skipped.

“I’m setting up the projector now. Can someone grab Y/N? And Jisung, you’re on snack duty,” Chan announced cheerfully, plugging in the equipment.

Jeongin came back from Y/N’s room with a confused look. “She’s not here. Her stuff is mostly gone too—just her practice clothes are left.”

“She just left early then,” Felix said, grabbing a bag of chips. “She’s always taking off to work on secret projects now.”

Minho, however, paused. He had been looking forward to this movie night. “Wait, she hasn’t been in the van in over two weeks. When was the last time we actually had a conversation with her that wasn’t about work?”

The studio fell silent.

Jihye, sensing the shift in mood, quickly tried to intervene, aiming for helpful sympathy. “Oh, I know where she is! She told me she was going to sleep over at the TXT dorm to work on a collaboration project. She said she felt she was closer to them lately because they understand her… vibe better. I think she’s just tired of all of us.” She offered a small, sad sigh, making herself look like the innocent victim caught in the middle.

The comment, intended to solidify the narrative that Y/N was difficult, had the opposite effect. The term “sleep over at the TXT dorm” hit them with the force of a physical blow. Y/N never stayed away overnight without extreme advance notice, especially during a heavy promotion period.

“Sleep over?” Hyunjin said, his voice quiet. He looked at Seungmin. “She skipped the movie night for this? The movie night she started?”

“She hasn’t submitted a song to 3RACHA in ten days,” Changbin realized aloud, checking his phone. “She’s just been doing her required vocal recordings and leaving. I thought she was just busy.”

“She’s not busy,” Minho muttered, staring at the empty space where Y/N usually sat. “She’s avoiding us.”

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Chan, ignoring the group chat, called Y/N directly. It went straight to voicemail after three rings. He tried again. Same result. The panic was starting to set in—not for their group dynamic, but for her.

A few hours later, Y/N finally responded to a private text from Minho.

Minho: Y/N, where are you? We miss you. The movie night feels completely empty without you here. Please come back.

Y/N’s reply was almost immediate, but painfully distant.

Y/N: I’m fine, Minho. I’m with TXT. We’re working on a cover and having fun. I’ll see you all tomorrow.

Minho read the last line aloud, his face pale. “She said she’s having fun. She’s not just working; she’s choosing to be somewhere else.”

Jisung, who had always relied on Y/N for late-night talks, looked heartbroken. “I told her she was the 'bossy older sister,' and she just laughed. But I thought she knew I didn’t mean it. We used her for a replacement in the gaming tournament with Jihye, and we let Jihye tell us she was on a ‘special diet’ instead of just asking her what she wanted.”

Chan put his head in his hands. “We were so busy trying to be kind and welcoming to the new member, we didn't just hurt Y/N. We actively pushed her away, and we didn’t even notice she was gone until her absence was so big we couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

The boys finally noticed. And the realization was a heavy, crushing guilt. They hadn't lost Y/N—they had given her away.

Chapter Text

The company threw a massive celebration after the comeback, a blend of staff, producers, and the label's active groups. This was the moment Y/N decided to test the waters one last time. Despite their realization in the dorm, the boys hadn't made any meaningful attempts to fix things, often just offering quick, awkward "How are you?" greetings before being pulled away by schedules or, inevitably, by Jihye.

Y/N arrived late, hoping to avoid the initial surge of attention. She quickly spotted the SKZ members clustered near the buffet. They were laughing—a genuine, easy sound. Jihye was perched between Hyunjin and Felix, holding a delicate pastry and talking about a variety show appearance.

Y/N took a deep breath and walked over, managing a hopeful smile. She tapped Seungmin lightly on the shoulder. “Hey, Seungmin-ah. You know how we always talk about that old song demo? I finally fixed the bridge. I was thinking maybe we could—”

Before she could finish, Jihye let out a sudden, high-pitched gasp, causing everyone to immediately turn their attention to her.

“Oh no! My dress!” Jihye cried, pointing to a tiny, imaginary spot on her designer gown. “Minho-oppa, I need help! Is it noticeable? I’m so clumsy!”

Minho, always practical, instantly leaned down to check the non-existent stain, completely dismissing Y/N’s attempted conversation. “It’s fine, Jihye, I don’t see anything. But here, let me get you a fresh napkin, just in case.”

Chan, who had been listening to Y/N, sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly stressed by Jihye’s sudden drama. He looked at Y/N with tired eyes and offered an exhausted half-apology. “Sorry, N/N. Hang on a sec, okay? Jihye needs a napkin.”

The moment was gone. Y/N watched them all hover around Jihye, assuring her she looked perfect and catering to her sudden need for reassurance. They had noticed her, yes, but when it came down to a choice between listening to her long-term professional idea or reacting to Jihye's immediate, manufactured crisis, they chose Jihye every time.

Y/N felt a cold calm settle over her. They won’t change, she realized. They can’t see it, or they’re too passive to stop it. This isn't my family anymore.

She gave a small, barely perceptible shake of her head and walked away without saying goodbye. No one saw her leave the party.

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The next morning, Y/N was gone. Not just for a sleepover, but permanently.

The group was summoned to a meeting with the CEO, a sight that usually meant a stern lecture or a major disciplinary action. When they walked in, Y/N was sitting at the conference table, calm and professional, flanked by two members of TXT’s management team.

The CEO placed a folder on the table. “As of this morning, Y/N has officially requested and been granted a transfer. She will be joining the Big Hit Music label under a specialized contract and will be integrated into a new group project with TXT, effective immediately.”

The room exploded.

“What?!” Minho shouted, jumping up. “She can’t just—she’s our member! We’re SKZ!”

Jeongin looked betrayed, his eyes wide. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why would you leave us?!”

Y/N met their furious, hurt gazes, maintaining her composure. “I did say something. For months, I tried to tell you with my actions, but no one listened. I stopped coming to the dorm, I stopped participating in our traditions, and I stopped contributing to 3RACHA. You didn’t notice until I literally moved out.”

Chan, his voice dangerously low, finally spoke up, ignoring the glaring presence of Jihye who had followed them in. “We made a mistake, Y/N! We told you we knew! You don’t destroy years of work and family because of a few weeks of—of oversight!”

“It wasn't a few weeks of oversight, Chan-oppa,” Y/N replied, her voice steady but laced with finality. “It was the realization that in this family, I am replaceable and ignorable. That the first person to cry gets the attention, and the one who handles everything gets pushed aside. My absence here has been a constant source of relief for me, not pain, because over there”—she gestured toward her new management—"they just let me be Y/N.”

Hyunjin looked devastated, his voice cracking. “You’re choosing them over us? After everything?”

“I’m choosing myself,” Y/N finished. She stood up, gathered her minimal belongings, and turned toward the door.

The fury that boiled off the eight boys wasn't guilt or sadness; it was the raw, hot anger of abandonment. They were furious at her for having the strength to leave a situation they had passively allowed to become toxic.

As Y/N walked out the door, the last thing she heard was Changbin's voice, full of bitter accusation: “You just ruined everything!”

She didn’t look back. She didn’t have to. The quiet joy of the TXT dorm was waiting for her.

Chapter Text

Three months passed, and Stray Kids was gearing up for another comeback, but the energy in the 3RACHA studio was tense, not creative. Without Y/N, the entire production process felt like trying to balance a house of cards.

It wasn't just her absence; it was the specific, vital role she had played. Chan was the structural leader, Changbin brought the hard-hitting verses, and Jisung was the melody genius. But Y/N had been the unspoken glue: the one who took their disparate ideas and forced them into a cohesive, radio-ready structure. She fixed the bridges, smoothed transitions, and, most importantly, was the only one who could tell Chan when an idea was honestly bad without fear of his leader-mode sigh.

“This chorus is too noisy, Chan. It sounds like two different songs fighting,” Changbin groaned, deleting a track layer.

“It wasn't noisy when Y/N fixed the harmonic counterpoint on the last one,” Chan muttered, leaning back in his chair, defeated. “She always knew which layers to strip out.”

Jihye, who had been added to 3RACHA management-side (a move Chan had fiercely protested but was forced to accept), tried to contribute. “Maybe we should just make it softer? Like, really soft and cute? I could sing a high note here, oppas. Everyone loves that.”

Jisung spun around in frustration. “Jihye-ssi, we are Stray Kids. We don’t do ‘soft and cute’ as a title track. And Y/N didn't make things soft; she made them strong.”

They realized with sickening clarity that Jihye offered surface-level, 'pick me' ideas, constantly demanding validation, while Y/N offered solutions, demanding excellence. The new music was flat, directionless, and critically, boring.

The lack of quality was noted by the highest levels of the company. Their manager called them in, his expression grim.

“The demos are weak,” he stated plainly. “The CEO is concerned. Your last three tracks have all been rejected by the review board. They lack the ‘Stray Kids edge.’ Frankly, they sound like a debut group trying too hard.”

The boys looked at each other, the raw anger they felt toward Y/N slowly turning into shame and desperation.

“The board suggested we look externally for a producer if this continues,” the manager continued, an unspoken threat hanging in the air. “We need to turn this around, or your comeback will be delayed.”

Chan felt the weight of the world crash onto his shoulders. He looked at the empty seat next to him—the spot Y/N used to occupy—and the realization solidified: They didn’t just miss their friend; they desperately needed the artist she was.

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That night, after Jihye had gone back to her own dorm, Chan sat down with the other seven members.

“We need her back,” Chan said, his voice husky. “Not just for the music, but for us. This group is broken without her.”

“But she’s happy over there,” Felix whispered, looking at a recent viral dance challenge Y/N had done with TXT's Soobin. She looked genuinely joyful.

“We can fix it,” Chan insisted, pulling out his phone. “We just need to make her realize she made a mistake. That her overreaction is hurting everyone.”

He called Y/N. She answered immediately, her voice light and professional. “Chan-oppa? Everything okay?”

“No, Y/N. Nothing’s okay,” Chan began, adopting a tone of hurt disappointment. “You need to come home.”

Y/N paused. “Home? Chan, I have a new home now. I’m happy here.”

“No, you’re not,” Minho cut in, grabbing the phone from Chan. “You think leaving us was a solution? You abandoned your family because you were upset about a few small things. Everyone makes mistakes, Y/N. We messed up by not seeing your feelings, but you messed up bigger by running away.”

Hyunjin took the phone, his voice dripping with forced sincerity. “We know Jihye was annoying, but you let her win. You threw away years of friendship and our career because you were too sensitive. We need you to be the strong one again. This group needs you, Y/N. Your friends need you. The problem wasn't us, it was that you couldn't handle the temporary change.”

They were deliberately twisting the truth: minimizing her pain ("a few small things," "annoying Jihye") and inflating their importance ("you ruined our career," "we need you"). They were trying to make her feel guilty and responsible for their current failure.

Y/N listened to the stream of manipulative comments—the gaslighting—in silence. She heard the desperation underneath their fury, but she also heard the total lack of accountability. They still believed she was the one who was wrong.

She took a deep breath, the comforting, familiar energy of the Big Hit studio around her, and her new family (TXT was practicing a few rooms away) giving her strength.

“I left because I wasn't valued as a member, and I wasn't loved as a friend,” Y/N said, her voice clear and cutting through their noise. “I was only valued for what I did for you. I didn’t run away, Minho. I walked towards a place where I didn’t have to fight to be seen.”

She addressed Chan directly. “You told me I ruined everything, Changbin. But you ruined it the moment you stopped listening to me and started laughing with Jihye.”

Y/N paused, letting her words sink in. “And I won’t be blamed for your current track problems. You are all brilliant. You just need to figure out how to be brilliant without a dedicated fixer. I’m not coming back.”

She hung up the phone and placed it facedown on the table, silencing the immediate storm of calls and texts that followed. The quiet was immediate and profound. She was free.

Chapter Text

It took less than a month for Y/N’s new music to dominate the global charts. She wasn't promoting as a soloist, but as a key producer and featured artist on a collaborative track with TXT, titled "ECHO." The song was everything Stray Kids' recent attempts were not: dynamic, sharp, and creatively fearless, with a killer melodic drop that was impossible to ignore.

The track immediately went viral. The chorus hook became a globally popular TikTok sound, sparking millions of videos, dance challenges, and reaction memes. Fans loved the effortless synergy between Y/N and the TXT members, praising the fresh, powerful dynamic that felt authentic and fun. Y/N's signature musical style—the one she could never fully implement in the stifling atmosphere of the SKZ studio—was finally shining.

On the other side of the industry, Stray Kids was forced to delay their comeback indefinitely after their manager rejected their fourth weak title track demo. Their social media feeds were now constantly filled with the "ECHO" challenge, a painful reminder of what they had lost.

The end-of-year awards ceremony was the inevitable collision point.

Y/N, looking radiant and genuinely happy, walked the red carpet with the TXT members. Her styling was bold, her smile was bright, and she exuded a quiet confidence she hadn't possessed in months. The camera constantly cut to her, celebrating her success.

The Stray Kids members were also present. They tried to maintain their professional composure, offering forced smiles and polite waves. They sat rows apart from Y/N's table, but their eyes kept flicking over. They saw her laughing easily with Yeonjun and discussing details with Soobin—she was entirely engaged in her new family, and their presence didn't even seem to register.

The night belonged to "ECHO." The wins started modestly, then snowballed:

1. Best Collaboration Track.

2. Global Fan Favorite (Digital).

3. Best Music Video Production.

4. Producer of the Year (for Y/N).

5. And finally, the Daesang for Song of the Year.

When the final, most prestigious award was announced, Y/N stood on stage, receiving the trophy alongside the TXT members. The camera zoomed in on her face—pure, unadulterated joy. She spoke passionately about creativity, finding your voice, and working with people who value your vision.

The SKZ table was a portrait of internal agony. Chan managed a strained clap, his eyes dark with regret. Minho was staring down at his lap. Jihye, however, couldn't mask her fury. Her jaw was clenched so tight the muscle twitched. All her efforts to replace Y/N had not only failed to win her favor, but they had directly caused the creation of a track that was now overshadowing their entire career.

As soon as the group returned to the SKZ dorm, the fragile facade Jihye maintained shattered. The moment the main door clicked shut, she spun on them, her face contorted with pure rage, no longer bothering with the 'cute' act.

"Are you all happy now?!" Jihye screamed, slamming her purse onto the hallway table. The sudden noise made Jeonginjump.

"Jihye, calm down," Chan said, exhausted and deflated.

"Calm down? We were humiliated! We sat there and watched her win five awards—awards that should have been ours! And for what? For a song she made with those models!" she spat, referring to TXT.

"We didn't win because we didn't release anything," Changbin countered wearily.

"And whose fault is that?" Jihye yelled, her voice breaking into a shriek. "I have given you countless ideas! I offered to sing the high notes! But you all keep talking about 'Y/N's sound' and 'Y/N's structure'! You let a stupid, oversensitive girl walk away and now we're a joke!"

She pointed a trembling finger at Hyunjin. "You! You were supposed to be her best friend! Why didn't you stop her? You should have told her she was being childish!"

She then rounded on Felix. "And you, with your constant 'Y/N needs space!' What she needed was a reality check! She needed to be told that the problem was her, not us!"

The boys were stunned. This wasn't the sweet, tearful Jihye they thought they knew. This was a calculating, furious stranger. The anger and accusations were so intense, so clearly motivated by jealousy, that the last vestiges of their confusion about Y/N's situation vanished.

Minho finally found his voice, cold and dangerous. "You think Y/N was the problem, Jihye? You made her leave. You manipulated every single interaction in that group for months. And now we are paying the price for the only thing you cared about: attention."

Jihye just scoffed, throwing her hands up. "Please. If she was strong, she wouldn't have run. She deserved to be ignored! She was never a true SKZ member if she could just leave us behind!"

Her words, intended to wound Y/N, instead solidified the group's collective realization. They had been blind, foolish, and now completely broken. They were angry at Jihye, but mostly, they were filled with devastating shame for believing her and driving away the most important person in their group.

Y/N was free and victorious. They were stuck in a sinking ship, facing a terrifying future.

Chapter Text

The air in the auditorium crackled with electricity. Y/N and the five members of TXT were standing at their table, their hearts pounding as the host prepared to announce the recipient of the Daesang for Song of the Year. The cameras scanned the room, lingering on the two front-runner groups: Stray Kids, sitting in tense silence, and the TXT/Y/N collaboration.

“And the winner of the MAMA Song of the Year… is… ‘ECHO’!”

A deafening roar erupted. Y/N felt an overwhelming wave of relief and pure, unadulterated triumph wash over her. It wasn't just a win; it was proof that her sound, her vision, was viable. She exchanged high-fives and hugs with the TXT members—Soobin, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Hueningkai—their joy for her completely genuine.

As they walked toward the stage, Jihye’s furious glare from the SKZ table was palpable, but Y/N didn’t spare her a glance.

She reached the center of the stage, the massive Daesang trophy waiting on the podium. Y/N stepped forward, intending to deliver the speech she had mentally rehearsed—one focused on gratitude and finding her artistic voice.

But before she could even touch the mic, Soobin gently placed a hand on her arm, and the five TXT members formed a tight, protective semi-circle around her.

The camera, sensing the unusual moment, zoomed in. The music swelled, then quickly faded into silence.

Yeonjun stepped slightly forward, his eyes shining with profound sincerity. "Y/N," he began, his voice carrying clearly over the sound system. "We've watched you fight to be heard, and we've been lucky enough to be the ones who saw your true value."

Beomgyu chimed in, earnest and emotional. "You are the most incredible partner and the kindest person we know. You make us better. You make the music better."

Taehyun spoke with quiet conviction. "We don't want to just be your collaborators, Y/N. We want to be your everything. We want to be the ones who always choose you first."

Hueningkai finished, his voice trembling slightly. "We are already a family, but we want to make it official. We want to be your partners. Please choose us, Y/N."

It wasn't a casual 'asking out'; it was a massive, public, collective declaration of love and commitment to a shared future, asking her to officially enter a devoted, exclusive relationship with all five of them—a gesture of ultimate support and acceptance.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Stray Kids members, who had been watching in stunned silence from their seats, realized with horror that they were witnessing the final, irreversible moment of Y/N choosing another group over them, both professionally and personally. They knew this was their last chance to claw her back.

Ignoring their manager, Chan, Minho, and Hyunjin abandoned their seats and rushed to the edge of the stage, shouting over the applause.

“Y/N! Don’t do this!” Minho yelled, desperation in his voice.

Hyunjin looked devastated, using the old familiar name. “We’re your family! This is too fast! They’re taking advantage of you because they know we messed up! Come back, N/N! Don’t make the biggest mistake of your career on stage!”

Chan’s voice, though quieter, was filled with the familiar, guilt-inducing pressure. “Think about the fans, Y/N! Think about our history! You can’t throw away years for this public spectacle! You belong with the people who raised you!”

The words were classic gaslighting—minimizing her happiness ("spectacle"), blaming her for their history ("you can’t throw away"), and using their shared past to manipulate her choice.

Y/N stood between the two worlds: the loud, guilt-ridden desperation of her past family, and the quiet, unwavering support of her new one.

She looked at Minho and Hyunjin, seeing the shame and regret, but also the continuing lack of true self-reflection. They still believed their pain justified their control over her life.

Then, she looked at the five men surrounding her on stage. They weren't demanding she fix their problems; they were simply offering their entire future to guarantee her happiness and safety. They were the ones who had seen her when she was invisible.

A single tear tracked down her cheek, quickly followed by another. But they weren't tears of sadness or confusion—they were tears of profound joy.

She turned back to the microphone, ignoring the shouts from the floor. She smiled at the five hopeful, nervous faces of Soobin, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Hueningkai.

“When I was called ‘ancient’ and ‘bossy,’ and told I was too demanding to be loved,” Y/N said into the mic, her voice cracking slightly, “I walked away. I walked away to find people who saw my focus as my strength, and my vision as my value.”

She reached out and took the hands of the TXT members closest to her, completing the circle of commitment.

Then, facing the camera and the world, she wiped the happy tears from her cheeks and said, simply and firmly: “Yes.”

The cheers from the crowd were deafening, drowning out the bitter, broken silence that fell over the Stray Kids table. The five Daesang winners—Y/N and TXT—leaned in and hugged, celebrating a massive win and the start of a beautiful, true partnership. Y/N had finally chosen the family that chose her back.