By the time the shuttle curved off the main road, the skyline had disappeared behind us, replaced by a sleek, gated compound with towering buildings and ivy-draped walls that didn't belong to the chaos of Seoul traffic. It felt separate—like a sanctuary dressed up in glass and steel. Clean-cut hedges, private entrances, and a gate so high it practically whispered don't even try it.
The bus rolled to a smooth stop.
A low beep sounded as the door hissed open, and for a second, no one moved. We just sat there—seven girls in a luxury capsule, carrying dreams and duffel bags and the sharp edges of hope wrapped in lip gloss and stage makeup.
I gripped the handle of my carry-on.
The others shifted. Rhea stood first, stretched, and bumped my shoulder with a grin. "You ready?"
No.
"Yes," I said, and stood up before I could think better of it.
The heat hit the second we stepped outside—humid and thick with the scent of concrete and jasmine, like the whole world was blooming and sweating at the same time. Our BIGHIT handler reappeared, now flanked by two younger assistants in matching navy jackets and earpieces.
"This way," he said crisply. "Dorm assignment packets are on your beds. Please review them before tomorrow's onboarding."
We followed him toward a sleek residential tower trimmed in white marble and blackout windows. Somewhere above us, K-pop royalty probably sipped iced americanos and watched the rest of the world burn.
We weren't royalty yet.
But we were walking straight into the palace.
Inside, the lobby was cathedral-clean—cool air, recessed lighting, and digital panels displaying music charts and training schedules. No sound but the whisper of designer sneakers and rolling luggage.
Then—
The elevator.
The handler swiped a keycard, pressed a button that read Private Residence – Creative Global Initiative, and stepped aside.
We rode in silence.
I could hear the girls breathing beside me. The elevator dinged, doors sliding open like we'd unlocked something forbidden.
The hallway was long. Soft-lit. Plush carpeting that probably cost more than my childhood home.
At the end, a wide door swung open.
"Your dorm," said the handler.
He didn't smile.
Just handed over a thin envelope and turned on his heel.
Inside… was a dream.
Vaulted ceilings. Open floor plan. Floor-to-ceiling windows spilling soft city light across polished floors. A full kitchen with matte-black appliances. A long sunken couch, warm neutral tones, fluffy throw pillows in curated chaos. Bedrooms branched off on either side—each marked with our names on sleek, digital room tags.
"Whoa," Nevaeh breathed. "Is this… ours?"
Lulu dropped her duffel and spun in a circle. "This is not a dorm. This is a drama set. I'm going to cry."
Aya blinked slowly. "They gave us orchids."
Camille wandered to the living room and touched the back of a leather armchair like it might melt under her fingers. "We live here. This is where we live now."
"I feel like we should toast," Yuna said, stepping out of her shoes neatly by the entryway. "Or light a ceremonial candle."
"We have tarot cards," Nevaeh offered.
Rhea turned to me, eyes bright. "C'mon, D. Let's see your room."
I followed, still not quite trusting my limbs. My door read Dwyn Duskthorn in soft-glow lettering. I pushed it open—and stopped.
The room was small but perfectly designed. Neutral palette. Soft lighting. A bed big enough to roll twice without falling. A small music setup—mic, interface, padded walls. A full-length mirror. A closet. A window overlooking the city from just high enough that you couldn't hear the noise.
On the bed was a welcome box—logo embossed, matte white.
Inside: a tablet, a black-and-gold trainee badge, a notebook, schedule printouts, studio access cards… and a handwritten note.
"Welcome to your next era. The voice is only the beginning.
We're ready when you are."
— BIGHIT Creative
I sat on the bed. Everything smelled like new cotton and some faint floral scent I couldn't place.
My heart was racing again. Not fear. Not nerves.
Anticipation.
Dawn stirred.
"This is right," she murmured. "We were meant to come here."
"Why now?" I whispered back. "Why Seoul? Why them?"
But she didn't answer.
She just pressed closer, quiet but alert.
Like something was coming.
And it had our name on it.
Rhea popped her head in. "Claim your bathroom drawer before Lulu fills it with glitter."
I laughed and stood, brushing invisible dust off my jeans. "On it."
But before I left the room, I glanced once more at the tablet. At the badge. At my name glowing from the door.
Dwyn Duskthorn.
The girl who once hid behind her hair and wrote songs in margins.
Now living in a high-rise dorm in Seoul. Training to debut.
And something inside me?
Something wild and luminous?
Finally felt seen.
------------------------------------------------------
I wasn't supposed to be out here.
Technically, I had a vocal check in twenty minutes and a rehearsal after that. But the rehearsal studio felt like a cage today, and the apartment felt worse. Too many questions. Too much air I didn't want to breathe.
So I did what I always did when everything felt like it was closing in.
I climbed.
Up the metal stairs, past the rooftop recording suite, onto the narrow balcony off the practice floor where the city was just distant noise and the sky didn't feel so heavy.
I leaned against the rail, pulled the sleeves of my hoodie down over my hands, and exhaled.
Below me, the BIGHIT Creative dorm tower stood like a quiet sentinel. New. Private. Untouchable. I'd heard rumors for weeks. A new girl group. Multi-concept. Multinational. Seven members.
None of it mattered to me.
Not until this morning.
Not until that damn name echoed across the LED screen like a shot in the dark.
Dwyn Duskthorn.
My fingers curled around the rail. I hadn't stopped thinking about it. About her. About that voice. About the way it cracked something open in me that had stayed locked for years. It wasn't fair. It wasn't normal.
I didn't want to feel like this.
She was probably just some lucky viral girl with a unique tone and a better PR team.
Right?
Right?
There she is.
Dal's voice pushed forward like a whisper at first. Then a throb. Then a roar.
I blinked. Looked down.
A black shuttle bus had pulled into the dorm's private roundabout.
Seven girls stepped out.
One of them—
Her.
Gods.
She looked even more unreal in person. Like someone had painted dusk and melody into a girl's skin and dared her to walk the earth like she wasn't breaking it. Box braids wrapped into a bun, a faded hoodie clinging to her frame like armor, silver eyes scanning the building with something between wonder and wariness.
Moonlight, Dal breathed. She's carved from it.
"Shut up," I muttered.
She's the tide. The pull. Don't you feel it?
Of course I did.
That strange hum in my chest hadn't stopped since the video. But seeing her in real life?
That was a different kind of ruin.
She looked… out of place in the best way. Like she didn't belong anywhere but was learning to belong everywhere. She stuck close to the red-haired girl beside her—Rhea, if I remembered the list right—but her chin was up. Shoulders straight. Like she knew people were watching and refused to shrink for it.
She's ours.
"She's nothing," I snapped out loud, jaw tight. "Just a voice."
She's the sound that woke me up, Dal growled. The world's been muted until her.
I shut my eyes, fingers drumming against the metal railing. This couldn't be happening. I didn't believe in this mate crap. I never had. Fate was a leash, and I'd broken too many of those to fall for the old stories now.
But my wolf didn't care about my logic.
Dal was pacing now, ears perked, tail up, practically wagging inside me like a lunatic golden retriever who'd spotted his favorite scent across the field. And that scent?
Was her.
The other girls were talking—laughing, nudging each other, tugging suitcases. One of them had glitter under her eyes. Another wore a Paris scarf and sunglasses indoors. All future stars in training.
But Dwyn…
She looked back once. Toward the street. Or the sky.
Her expression soft. Steady.
Like she felt something too.
She's looking for us.
"She doesn't even know who I am."
She will.
My jaw flexed.
I needed to get inside.
I needed to forget her voice, her name, her face, the strange stillness she created inside my chaos.
But the damage was done.
The wolf inside me had recognized her.
And now?
I wasn't sure I'd survive unrecognizing her.