Krystal's eyes gently trace the sallow shadows of exhaustion as they dance across her bandmate's face. She knows that look; after all, burnt out is a state she too is intimately familiar with. Still the dark circles on Victoria's face, exacerbated by a mediocre mobile camera and even worse lighting, make Krystal weary to the bone. Victoria gets a break at least; that's more than the rest of them received for Christmas.

"Make some tea and sleep a little more, okay?" She swallows her bitterness and smiles. It's small but it's much more than anyone else might get from the ice princess Krystal Jung. She swallows down the bitter bite of that thought, too.

Victoria waves lightly and grins, though her expression falters slightly when their manager shouts a burly "You're on in 10!" through the dressing room door.

"f(x), fighting!" Krystal's leader says, fist clenched tightly and eyes a little too bright.

It's not until they hang up the call that Krystal is strong enough to echo back "Fighting." The signature horns of Amber's solo track begin to seep through the crack below the door and Krystal raises herself from the couch with one hand, the other going into the quick cross of a prayer.

A touch to her forehead: Belief in herself. Down to her sternum, right above the heart, and Krystal's lips move in a silent murmur. Jessica unnie, she says. Then shoulder to shoulder, left to right. Krystal remembers Sulli, then Victoria's struggle, and ends with her palms pressed together in a vow of "I will be better. I will do better. There is no other option but to improve."

When she first debuted, the supplication was for Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But it's been six years since "La Cha Ta;" now Krystal knows better.

The manager rushes through the door right as she finishes, and Krystal's hands drop to her sides listlessly. It's her show of surrender, not that the manager oppa knows that. With a last glance at the phone laying on the couch—as if Victoria is still there, her cheer of encouragement forever immortalized on the video—Krystal allows herself to be dragged backstage. Hands push and pull at her body, her clothes, her hair, and her microphone, but Krystal ignores it all, waiting for her cue with singular focus.

The first notes of her intro start and Krystal makes her way out into the darkness, alone.