The second round of the National Dance Competition was in two weeks. And somehow, a whole week had already slipped by in a blur.

Daniel, being Daniel, absolutely refused to sit still and recover. To the distress of Ben, Terrence, Kai, and Sean, he was already dancing.

As usual, a small crowd had gathered at the edge of the studio, mostly Daniel’s loyal admirers, buzzing with questions and concern.

“Sunbaenim! Is your ankle okay now?”

Daniel turned to them with his usual easy grin. “Much better, don’t worry!”

But one girl stepped forward, a crease of worry between her brows. “You’re still limping a little,” she said gently. “You should rest for a few more days.”

Daniel sighed in melodramatic distress. “You’re far too sweet! I don’t want to see your pretty face twisted with worry.” He winked. “But I’m really better now. I’ll tear the stage apart, just wait!”

The girl flushed and smiled, but another girl quickly stepped in, almost pushing the first one aside. With a flutter of lashes straight out of a seductive anime, she purred, “Why don’t you stay at my place for a few days, sunbaenim? I’ll ‘personally’ take care of you. Help you recover faster.”

All four of Daniel’s friends turned slowly to look at her.

Daniel, of course, missed the implications entirely. He gave the girl a bright smile. “That’s such a touching offer! But I’d hate to trouble you.”

Before the girl could protest, a guy stepped forward from the back of the group, a smug smirk playing at his lips. “If you're looking for peace, sunbae, I’ve got an apartment, and I live ‘alone’.”

Kai choked slightly and shifted uncomfortably, the weight of that implication landing like a brick.

Terrence raised an eyebrow and muttered, “At this point, he needs a bodyguard.”

Ben, who had been watching from the side, felt something in his gut twist. His hands curled into fists. The guy’s gaze was too lingering and way too obvious, and the thought of Daniel being approached like that while he was still recovering made something cold coil inside him.

Daniel blinked before waving a hand cheerfully. “Oh, that’s very kind, but I’ve got my own apartment too. And these guys–” he gestured grandly to Terrence, Ben, Kai, and Sean “—drop by all the time to check in on me. I feel so loved.”

There were a few giggles and murmurs, some flirtatious, some disappointed, before the crowd slowly dispersed, leaving Daniel mercifully unmolested for now.

Terrence narrowed his eyes. “Do you enjoy giving everyone anxiety?”

Daniel let out a sob so dramatic it deserved an Oscar. “How could you say that? I’m on your team! How can I rest while my precious teammates suffer alone?”

“You have a severe ankle sprain, you maniac,” Terrence deadpanned.

Daniel sighed with flair, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “Ahhh, what am I to do with such a cruel child?”

“Stubborn idiot,” Terrence muttered.

Ben laughed. For all his sharp words, Terrence clearly cared. And somehow, despite everything, Daniel’s chaotic and loud energy filled the room like always and was impossible to ignore.

Sean had started showing up more consistently, his quiet presence like a calm shadow haunting the edges of the studio. The more they practiced with him, the clearer it became that he was professionally trained, though he rarely said much. He just observed, rehearsed, and moved with practiced ease.

Naturally, Daniel couldn’t resist pestering him.

One evening, he slung an arm over Sean’s shoulder and grinned. “Tell me, my mysterious admirer, was it ballet or contemporary? You’re far too precise to be a mere amateur.”

Sean casually swatted his arm away. “You look trained, too, especially in modern dance. You’ve definitely had professional instruction.”

Daniel lit up, always eager to talk about dance. “But of course! My mother’s a professional modern dancer. She’s been training me since I was three.”

Ben’s jaw dropped. “You’ve had actual training? I thought you just picked up some moves from her!”

Sean nodded, a little surprised. “That explains it. Your skill makes sense now. I’ve seen eomeonim’s choreos, they’re distinct, especially the way she fuses hip-hop with modern dance.”

Daniel puffed up with pride. “Naturally. She’s a modern dancer who refused to limit herself to a single style. Her work reflects her versatility.”

Both Ben and Sean nodded, impressed. However, at that very moment, a loud scream cut through their conversation.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”

All heads turned toward Kai, who had flopped on the floor like a Labrador in distress, clutching his phone like a lifeline.

“This round is evil! ¿Cómo pueden ser tan crueles?” he moaned, pretending to faint. “They want us to learn, like, SEVEN dance clips in a couple of hours. That’s criminal.” [How can they be so cruel?"]

Ben glided over and peered at the phone. The NDC had just posted the updated rules for the memory round.

– Seven different 30-second Idol dance videos are to be learned and performed in two hours.

Ben blinked. This wasn’t his first competition, but it was definitely the first that felt this high-stakes.

Terrence, Sean, and Daniel remained completely unfazed.

“What did you expect?” Terrence said flatly. “It’s a national-level contest. They want the best of the best. If you can’t display extraordinary skill, there’s no point.”

Ben gulped. He’d never seen himself as exceptional. He just loved dancing. But memorization under pressure wasn’t his strong suit.

Daniel caught the look on Ben’s face. “Don’t worry, Ben-ah!” he called brightly from across the room. “We’ve got a week. I’ll turn you into a masterpiece.”

Ben’s eyes widened in horror. “Hyung, you’re a sadist! I know that gleam in your eye. I don’t want to become a ghost that haunts this studio!”

Daniel gasped in theatrical outrage. “How could you accuse me of such cruelty?”

“Because I know the demon you are,” Ben muttered darkly.

Sean, surprisingly, added, “I’d like to practice along with Ben.”

Ben groaned. “Great. Now he’s recruited another victim.”

Terrence chimed in. “Memorizing isn’t the hard part, executing is.”

And so began the Reign of Terror.