Lucas' POV
Fame doesn't announce itself when it ruins you.
It creeps in slowly—through expectations, schedules, and the unspoken understanding that your life no longer belongs to you.
The practice room smelled like sweat and disinfectant. Mirrors lined the walls, reflecting a version of myself I barely recognized anymore. I moved automatically, muscle memory carrying me through choreography I'd practiced a thousand times.
"Again," the choreographer said.
My body protested, but I nodded anyway.
Being a K-pop idol meant perfection was the bare minimum. There was no room for exhaustion, doubt, or mistakes. Every move, every smile, every breath belonged to the public.
When practice finally ended, I pulled on a hoodie and mask before leaving through the side exit. Outside, the city breathed around me—students laughing, couples walking hand in hand, people who didn't need permission to live.
I passed a university campus on my way back to the van.
For a moment, I slowed.
I wondered what it would have been like to be one of them. To be anonymous. To meet someone without lies, without fear.
I didn't know that fate had already decided to answer that question.