The air in the practice room felt heavier than usual.
It wasn't just the sweat or the aching limbs from morning choreography—it was the silence between the girls. A kind of quiet that didn't belong in a room full of people with the same dream.
When Haneul walked in, Soyoon practically tackled her.
"Unnie!" she squealed, half-laughing, half-desperate.
The others looked up. Min blinked from behind her water bottle. Jihae gave a short nod. Eri was curled in a corner, a hoodie pulled over her head like armor. Nami was chewing her nails—something she only did when things were bad.
"You survived," Min said flatly. "Didn't think we'd see you before next year."
"I was being productive," Haneul said, hugging Soyoon back. "You'll thank me in a minute."
"You brought the new tracks?" Jihae asked.
"I brought something *better* than what we've been stuck with."
Before she could explain, the door opened again.
Manager Seohwa stepped in with her usual expression: stress, precision, and just enough caffeine to keep her from snapping. She held a tablet in one hand and a file folder in the other.
"Girls. Conference room. Now."
---
The agency's meeting room had been upgraded once. About six years ago.
The plastic chairs squeaked, the table had a chip near one edge, and the fluorescent light in the corner buzzed like it wanted to die. The only new thing was the large TV screen mounted crookedly on the wall.
DJ Rez, one of the agency's in-house producers, was already there—leaning back in his chair, sunglasses on indoors as always, legs crossed like a man with time to waste.
"This better not be another pop-salad mess," Jihae muttered as she sat down.
Seohwa didn't look up. "We've had three producer teams submit songs for VELA's next comeback. None of them are finalized. You'll listen to them. Give feedback."
"But aren't we supposed to start vocal recordings in two weeks?" Min asked.
"That was the *plan,*" Seohwa replied. "But unless one of these songs magically becomes a hit, there may not *be* a comeback."
The room fell silent.
Eri pulled her hood down slowly. "Wait... what?"
Seohwa finally met their eyes. "This agency is not in good shape. You know that. The last comeback underperformed. The merch sales barely covered the debt. If this next release flops... we don't have much left."
"That's not fair," Soyoon whispered. "We've been killing ourselves."
"We know," DJ Rez said, voice low. "But this industry doesn't care how hard you work. It cares what sells."
"And the songs better *sell,*" Seohwa added. "Let's start."
---
**Track One.**
A dance track with an overused trap beat and lazy metaphors about "rising up" and "breaking ceilings." Vocally, it was a mismatch—too high for Min, too bland for Eri, and the rap was practically lifted from a 2014 song.
Jihae snorted before the chorus ended.
**Track Two.**
Hyperpop with heavy auto-tune and glitch vocals. It was trendy—maybe last year. Now it felt like a panic attack in music form. No space to breathe, no emotion. Just noise.
Soyoon groaned, face in her hands.
**Track Three.**
A ballad. Decent chords, flat lyrics. The chorus promised catharsis but delivered something closer to a yawn. No tension. No soul.
When it ended, no one spoke.
Seohwa looked up. "Feedback?"
"We're not rookies anymore," Jihae said. "We can't release stuff like this and expect people to care."
"It's not about people *caring,* it's about people *buying,*" DJ Rez replied.
"And they won't buy this," Haneul said sharply.
The tension in the room coiled.
Seohwa sighed. "Then what do you suggest?"
"I've been working with someone else," Haneul said, calm. Certain.
DJ Rez leaned forward. "Another trainee?"
"No. He's not in the system anymore. He left."
"Then why are you wasting time—"
"Because he's better than all three of those producers you just played."
The room froze.
Seohwa narrowed her eyes. "Who?"
"His name's **Ren**," Haneul said. "He's a foreigner. He's been living in Seoul for the last three years."
Eri blinked. "Wait… that name…"
"He used to go by Thato," Haneul explained. "That was his birth name... I think. But when the shelter director—Mrs. Saito—found him after he ran away from his previous foster family, she helped him legally change it. Ren Saito."
"The kid who made you those harmonies last winter," Jihae murmured. "The ones we all thought were from a pro mix engineer?"
"Yeah," Haneul nodded. "That's him."
DJ Rez looked amused. "So this Saito Ren... he's what? A ghost producer? Underground savant?"
"He's someone who's been in the system, broken by it, and still writes like he's got something to prove."
"And he's not under contract?" Seohwa asked, a hint of something—hope, or calculation—in her voice.
"Nope. Independent. And he's already finished three songs for us. Complete demos. Full structure, harmonies, line distributions. He studied our vocals, our ranges, even our fanbase stats."
Jihae leaned forward. "Then we need to *hear them.*"
"I'm uploading them now," Haneul said, already sending the files from her phone. "You'll understand the moment you press play."
Seohwa glanced at DJ Rez, then back to the group. "We'll review them tonight. If they're as good as you say, they'll go into final evaluation."
"But," she added sharply, "if this is just another emotional pitch for an amateur, you'll all have wasted your last chance."
Haneul didn't flinch. "I'll take that risk."
Because it wasn't a risk.
Not to her.
---
Later, as the girls filed back into the practice room, the tension lingered—but now it was sharper. Focused.
Soyoon collapsed onto the floor and groaned. "If we have to sing another 'we're stars in the sky' hook, I'm retiring."
"Same," Min said, lying beside her. "Maybe we'll open a café. Call it VELA Beans."
"Shut up," Jihae muttered, cracking a smile.
Haneul sat against the wall, staring at her phone, where the three files glowed.
**VELA_TRACK01_STARLIGHTSINNERS.MP3**
**VELA_TRACK02_ORBIT.MP3**
**VELA_TRACK03_GRAVITY.MP3**
She tapped one, just for herself.
The first notes poured out of the speaker. Soulful, sharp, raw. Every line cut like glass. The lyrics hit harder because they weren't just written *for* idols—they were written *by someone who saw through the costume.*
And when the chorus hit?
She saw Soyoon look up.
Min sat upright.
Even Jihae stopped mid-scroll.
"Oh…" Eri whispered. "*This* is it."
Haneul smiled.
Not cocky. Not relieved.
Just *sure.*
"He saved our comeback," she said softly.
"Now we save his future".