I woke up to sudden cold next to me.

The spot where Renji had been sleeping was empty.

For a moment, I just stared at the space, the faint warmth on the sheets fading away. I had so many things to tell him. And even more I wanted to ask.

Why did he comfort me last night if he hates me? That glimpse of warmth—his arm pulling me close, his quiet breathing against my neck—confused me deeply. Maybe he just woke up to my pathetic sobbing and felt sorry for me. That had to be it. It was the only explanation that made sense.

I sighed and crawled out of bed. The dorm was still dim, the faint city glow leaking through the blinds. After a quick shower, I stood in front of the mirror, towel slung around my shoulders, staring blankly at my reflection. Monday.

And not just any Monday—that Monday.

The day our schedule would start for real: hairstylist at 7:30, our first official concept and promotional photo shoot at 10, social media content filming after lunch, and then an interview in the afternoon.

The start of promotions.

The start of V1ne’s public life.

I thought about everything lined up ahead and felt slightly dizzy.

By the time I stepped out into the living room, chaos was already in full swing. The twins were bouncing around like caffeinated kangaroos, while Yujun was trying—unsuccessfully—to tone them down. Geon and Jiahao were calmly sipping coffee on the couch, looking like two people who had already given up on life before 7 a.m. Renji, of course, was nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, pouring myself a cup of coffee. The smell alone made me feel more human. “Where’s Renji?” I asked, trying to sound casual, though my face was probably giving away too much.

“He went out earlier for personal reasons,” Jiahao replied without looking up from his phone. “Said he’ll meet us at the salon.”

I plopped down onto the sofa beside him.

“I can’t stand the sight of those three,” Geon groaned, pointing at the twins and Yujun. “Hyung, look at what they’re doing. I’m getting stress wrinkles.”

He immediately checked his reflection on his phone, tilting his face to the light with exaggerated dramatics.

I looked up and, unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong. Bang and Boom were attempting to lift Yujun into the air. Why? Nobody knew. Possibly even they didn’t.

Jiahao finally put down his coffee. “Let’s get going, guys. Garam-nim will be here any minute with the van.”

We met Renji at the salon, where the air already smelled like hair dye and overpriced conditioner. Bright lights reflected off chrome countertops, and the faint buzz of hair dryers filled the room.

“I gave the stylists your concept instructions,” Garam said as we took our seats. “Some of you will get color or cut adjustments. Remember, you all signed the agreement about hair alterations—so no backing out.”

“I hope I get Oreo hair,” Geon said, twirling a strand of his long black hair dramatically.

Honestly, it would suit him. The edgy aesthetic was already there—black and white split hair would just make him look even more like a magazine cover rebel.

One by one, we went through our makeovers. My hair was dyed into a deeper shade of black, sleek and styled just right for the camera. It felt strange—too polished after years away from the spotlight. The reflection looking back at me didn’t feel entirely like me yet. Minsung would probably tease me to death for it.

Renji didn’t have any drastic changes, just a lighter tone on his natural brown. Jiahao and the twins got subtle touch-ups too—though thankfully, the twins now had different hair lengths. Maybe, finally, people would stop confusing them.

The most dramatic transformations were Yujun and Geon. Yujun’s blonde became a soft cotton-candy pink, styled in a fluffy, permed bowl cut that made him look infuriatingly cute. Geon’s long hair stayed the same length but was dyed a darker silver that caught the light perfectly. It added to his effortless, edgy energy.

By the time we returned to the company building for the photo shoot, I was half-running on caffeine and adrenaline. The studio was massive—white backdrop, softboxes glowing like miniature suns, stylists fluttering around with brushes and lint rollers.

“I have to wear… this?” I asked, staring at the semi see-through white shirt with attached black harnesses.

“It’s okay,” the stylist said cheerfully. “We’ll give you a skin-colored nipple patch.”

“Someone said nipples?” Boom’s head instantly popped up from the makeup chair.

“You have selective hearing, I swear,” Jiahao muttered, massaging his temple.

“You told Ahnyoul that you were fine with the concept,” Garam reminded me.

“I know, I know,” I sighed. “It’s fine. Totally fine.”

Totally not fine.

After our solo profile shots—smiling, smoldering, pretending we weren’t dying inside—we moved to the group shoot.

“Minjae, Yujun, and Geon in the center,” said the photographer, gesturing. “Everyone else around them. You two switch—yes, you,” he pointed at Bang and Renji.

That placed Renji right behind me, his shoulder brushing against my back. When he shifted, his hand grazed my waist—probably by accident, but my brain didn’t care.

“Okay, this isn’t a Catholic school photo,” the photographer called out. “Closer. You’re the seven deadly sins. Show it.”

Renji’s arm slid naturally around my waist. Geon crouched near my foot, one hand resting on my thigh, silver hair falling over his face. Yujun’s hip brushed mine. I was pretty sure I was visibly blushing under the studio lights. Thank God for foundation.

The flash went off.

And another.

And another.

Each one felt like it burned straight through me.

By the end, I was praying for the day to end—but we were only halfway through.

After grabbing a quick bite at the company cafeteria, we filmed our first short social media clips—those trendy, chaotic fifteen-second “look at us we’re debuting” videos for TikTak and Instargam. It was all laughter and retakes, with Boom tripping twice and Geon breaking character because someone sneezed off-camera.

And then came the final event of the day.

The interview.

The studio lights were blinding. I could practically feel my soul evaporating through my pores. My jaw already hurt from smiling—and the camera hadn’t even started rolling. Jiahao sat beside me, posture perfect, while the twins whispered like two kids plotting a heist.

Renji was at the far end of the line—silent, unreadable, and devastatingly photogenic. His freshly styled hair framed his face perfectly. It was infuriating how effortlessly he pulled off that calm, cool image.

“Alright, ready?” the producer called. “We’ll start with group introductions, then individual questions.”

Jiahao gave us the look. The ‘don’t ruin this for me’ look.

The red light blinked on.

“Three, two, one—action!”

“Hello! We are—”

“V1ne!” we chorused, our timing off by at least half a second. Great start.

The interviewer, a cheerful woman with an oversized clipboard, smiled. “Congratulations on your upcoming debut! How are you all feeling today?”

“Excited,” Jiahao said first, perfectly poised.

“Nervous,” Boom blurted out immediately, earning laughter from the crew.

“Hungry,” Geon muttered.

Yujun smacked the back of his head. “You literally ate three rice balls on the way here!”

“Those were emotional support rice balls,” Geon replied with complete sincerity.

The twins started cackling. Even the interviewer bit back a laugh.

“And you, Minjae?” she asked, turning to me.

“Oh—uh.” I blinked. “I’m excited too. It feels surreal, actually. I think it’s finally sinking in that this is really happening.”

“Beautifully said,” she smiled. “You have quite a calm aura compared to your members.”

The group groaned collectively.

“He’s not calm,” Bang said. “He’s just good at pretending.”

I shot him a look. “Keep talking, and I’ll replace your protein powder with salt.”

The set erupted in laughter. Even Renji smiled faintly—and that tiny curve of his lips made something in my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge.

The rest of the interview passed in a blur of laughter, near-misses, and chaotic energy that somehow worked in our favor. And when we finally stood up, bowing to the staff, I felt something warm settle in my chest.

It wasn’t perfect—but for the first time in a long time, surrounded by these ridiculous, loud people, I felt like I belonged again.

Once we got back to the dorm, I felt like dying.

Every part of my body ached, and my mind was a hazy blur from exhaustion. But there was no time to rest—our schedule for the entire week looked like hell on paper.

We’d be spending every single day in the practice room or the studio, finalizing the choreography, recording vocals, and rehearsing until we dropped. It was everything I had once dreamed of doing, yet it suddenly felt so physically and mentally draining that I wondered how I’d ever had the dedication to chase this life for years.

After a long, well-deserved bath that nearly put me to sleep in the tub, I had dinner with the members. The noise of the dining table—laughter, teasing, clinking chopsticks—echoed faintly in the background of my dazed state. Eventually, the dorm quieted down, one by one the others disappearing into their rooms.

I retreated to mine too, Renji followed.

The room felt heavier the moment he stepped inside. I wanted to bring up what happened last night, to finally ask why he comforted me, but the words died in my throat before I could even form them.

That same familiar fear crept back in—the same one I’d felt after the accident.

Back then, I had been too scared to face him, too broken to speak, too ashamed to show that kind of pain. And here I was again—silent, trembling, hiding my vulnerability like it was something sinful.

Renji had always been the kind of person who cared quietly, the kind who would sit in silence beside you just to make sure you weren’t alone. He let me into his world once—but I’d never truly let him into mine.

He plopped down on his bed with a sigh, scrolling lazily through his phone. The glow from the screen painted his face in pale light, highlighting the soft curve of his jaw and his calm expression. I didn’t want to stare, but my eyes refused to look away.

It felt like he had his own gravity, quietly pulling me in.

He must have noticed because he suddenly put his phone down and turned toward me.

“Stop staring holes into my skull and say it.”

“Renji... I—”

He sighed, leaning back on his elbow. “I’m sorry about last night,” I said, voice flat but not cold. “I behaved inappropriately.”

“That’s all you have to say?” He asked, rolling his eyes.

“No.” I glanced at him.

“Alright, I’ll give you one minute of listening time. Go on.”

“I’m sorry about everything,” I said quietly. “I know what I did was trash.”

“Yes, it was,” he replied bluntly. “I hope you have a valid excuse.”

“I don’t think even my excuse could justify my actions.”

“I see.” He paused for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “I’ll extend your listening time to three minutes. I’m still curious.”

I knew exactly what I needed to say—but the words wouldn’t come. My chest tightened, my vision blurred, and before I realized it, tears were spilling down my face.

Renji’s expression shifted instantly—from detached to concerned.

“What the hell happened to you, Minjae?” His voice softened, the sharp edge melting away.

“Mom and Dad…” I started, but my voice cracked halfway through. The moment I said it, the dam broke. My chest heaved as I tried to breathe, but the air wouldn’t come. Everything felt heavy—too heavy. The room tilted. I was shaking, gasping, my vision going dark at the edges.

Then I felt his arms wrap around me.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low hum against my ear. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

His hand brushed through my hair, slow and steady. I was drenching his shirt in tears and snot and saliva, but he didn’t flinch.

“Your shirt’s getting dirty,” I murmured between shaky breaths.

“I don’t give a fuck about this shirt,” he said quietly. “Did you calm down a little?”

I nodded, barely.

“Are you able to tell me what happened?”

Another nod. My fingers trembled as I clutched the fabric of his shirt at his side, grounding myself.

“Before our debut back then… I told you we were going out to dinner with my family to celebrate,” I began, my voice trembling. “I even invited you, but you said you were busy in the studio. Said we’d celebrate together after.”

“I remember,” he said softly, his tone steady, almost too careful. His hand patted my back gently, encouraging me to go on.

“On our way there, a car…” My breath hitched. “A car crashed into us.”

The words hung between us. My chest felt like it was caving in, pressure pushing down until I could barely breathe.

Renji froze. The motion of his hand stopped midair. For a long moment, neither of us said anything. Then, in a near whisper, he asked, “How are your parents?”

“They’re gone.”

The silence that followed was deafening. I started shaking again, tears flooding anew, and for the first time, I felt something warm and wet drop onto my forehead. When I looked up through blurred vision, I realized—Renji was crying too.

Neither of us said another word. We just clung to each other in the dark, our breaths uneven, our tears mixing in the space between us.

“Minsung?” he asked finally, voice rough from holding back emotion.

“He’s fine,” I whispered. “He started high school.”

Renji’s arm tightened around me. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Minjae.” His voice trembled against my ear.

I couldn’t stop crying, no matter how hard I tried. Ever since the accident, once I started, it always took forever to stop.

“Were you hurt too?” he asked after a long pause.

I nodded, unable to find my voice. His arms tightened even more, protective, desperate.

We didn’t speak after that. The silence between us was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that said everything words couldn’t.

And when sleep finally came, it found us like that—holding onto each other in the dark, our grief tangled together like it had always been meant to meet again.