They arrived at the competition facility in the early evening, dragging suitcases and carrying the weight of everything they'd worked for. The Star Program wasn't just a show—it was their shot. Three months. Four groups. No second chances.
They tried not to stare too hard at the luxury around them. But it was impossible not to.
Marble floors. Soft lights. Security guards in crisp uniforms. A giant glass panel welcomed them with their group name glowing in gold: NOX.
George let out a low whistle. "We really made it here, huh?"
Marvo spun in place, wide-eyed. "If I wake up in the dorm, I'm screaming."
Tae didn't say anything, but his eyes swept the room like he was trying to memorize everything.
Ren cracked a joke about hidden cameras.
Julian kept quiet. His hands were still cold from the ride over.
A staff member handed them keycards and directions to their floor. 45th. Way too high for boys used to basements and underground studios.
As they rode the elevator up, Marvo bounced slightly on his toes. "Do you think they'll have heated floors? Oh my god, what if they have a coffee machine?"
"Don't get your hopes up," George said, but even he looked impressed when the elevator opened.
The hallway was long and silent, the carpet soft under their shoes. Other groups were already settling into their suites. One group—tall, eerily identical in their poise—stood near their door. Their skin was spotless. Their posture perfect. Not a hair out of place.
Marvo slowed down. "They don't look real."
"They don't move real either," Ren muttered.
Julian noticed it too. The stillness. Like they were always posing. Or maybe they didn't know how not to be watched.
Their own room was huge. Bigger than their dorm. No bunk beds. No peeling paint. Just soft lighting, polished surfaces, and five clean beds that smelled like laundry and money.
Marvel dropped his bag and dove onto a bed with a shout. "This one's mine! Dibs!"
George opened the window blinds. "Guys... you need to see this."
The sky outside had cleared.
They all gathered around the glass. The sun was setting across the city, painting the skyline in hazy reds and soft purples. The clouds glowed like fire. From the slums, they never saw the sun properly. Just a slice of light between rooftops. This? This was different.
Ren pressed his forehead to the glass. "It's... so bright."
Marvo nodded slowly. "I didn't think it would look like this."
Even Tae had a small, quiet smile.
Julian tried. He really did.
He could see that it was pretty. He understood what this moment meant to the others—boys who had grown up sharing cracked ceilings and warm water on good days. This view was a dream.
But inside?
Nothing.
It was like watching a painting. Nice. But flat.
Marvo took a shaky breath. "Back home, the sun never looked like this."
"No," George said. "Because back home, we lived underground."
Julian leaned slightly against the glass. It was cold under his fingers. Below them, the city looked too neat. Too far away.
Then it happened.
Tick.
His chest. A soft mechanical pulse.
Julian frowned. Not because it hurt—it didn't. It never did. But it was always there. Quiet. Subtle. Like a reminder.
He turned his head.
The elevator across the hall opened again.
Another group stepped out. Even taller. Even cleaner. Their uniforms looked like they hadn't been touched by human hands. And in the middle of them—someone was staring.
A boy.
His eyes were pale grey. So light that the pupils faded into the iris. Julian froze.
The boy didn't blink. Didn't move. Just looked at him. Not in a threatening way. But not casual either. Like he saw something.
Julian looked back.
Tick.
Again.
The boy blinked. Turned away. Gone.
The moment was over.
Marvo nudged Julian's arm. "Hey. You good?"
"Yeah," Julian said. "Just spaced out."
He stayed by the window for a bit longer, but everything felt a little colder now. A little quieter.
He didn't know what that stare meant.
But he couldn't shake it.
And somewhere deep in his chest, the ticking went on.
Not loud.
Just....there.
---
The rest of the night blurred. The five of them spent over an hour just exploring the room—figuring out how to work the shower, marveling at the way the mini fridge was actually stocked.
George pulled Marvo away from trying to steal the complimentary soaps. Ren tried out all five beds to figure out which one had the "best energy." Tae stood on the balcony for a while, just watching the skyline.
It wasn't home.
But it felt like a promise.
They ate late that night—instant noodles and bottled water they'd brought with them, not ready to touch the unfamiliar room service menu. It felt like a small rebellion.
Julian didn't eat much. His appetite had been shaky for weeks. The others didn't push.
They all knew something had changed. Julian collapsing wasn't just a scare—it had been a shift. A crack in the glass.
But none of them said it.
Not yet.
---
When everyone had turned in for the night, Julian stayed up a bit longer. The lights were dimmed, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner. He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Tick.
He closed his eyes.
He thought of the boy with the grey eyes.
And the sun.
And the fact that even here, surrounded by everything they thought they wanted, he still felt... empty.
Just ticking.
Just trying.
Just barely holding together.
And then—sleep.
If you could call it that.