Thump, thump, thump...

“Is anyone else feeling like their heart is going to jump out of their throat?” Dahyun whispered, swallowing hard. Nayeon didn’t answer. But if she had, she would’ve said yes, for her heart was pounding hard and her stomach was churning with anxiety. Based on Jihyo and Tzuyu’s sweaty palms, they felt as nervous as she did.

All four girls gripped onto each other’s hands, staring at the panel of judges in the distance who were whispering over the papers they had collected on the table in front of them. The written notes. The results. The results of the very competition Nayeon’s team and Mina’s team had just partaken in.

Mina’s team. Nayeon glanced over behind her, to the bleachers where Mina’s team was sitting. All of them were – literally – bouncing around excitedly. Nayeon had no idea how they could act that way. Weren’t they anxious to know the results? Didn’t they want to win? How would they feel when they lost? Then Nayeon met Mina’s eyes, and Mina smiled at her, a broad gummy smile that told Nayeon everything she needed to know. Mina’s team wasn’t nervous; they were happy. They knew. They knew Nayeon’s team would win. They were happy for Nayeon’s team. Nayeon felt a pang of guilt, though brief.

“Ah, the results have been decided,” a voice announced over the loudspeaker. Nayeon’s heartbeats quickened. Jihyo squeezed her hand, a gesture that was extremely comforting yet did nothing to ease Nayeon’s nervousness.

“Im Nayeon’s team, from Seoul, South Korea, against Myoui Mina’s team, from Suwon, South Korea. Both are elite, professional teams, despite the ages of the members...”

“Why aren’t they telling us who won?” Tzuyu said, her voice full of impatience. Nayeon barely heard her; the sound of her heartbeat had filled her ears. That, and the rushing of blood. No doubt the other girls were hearing the same thing, as none of them responded to Tzuyu. Yet, the same question haunted Nayeon – haunted all of them. Why won’t they tell us yet?

“Today’s competition was impressive, but there only could be one winner. Im Nayeon’s team has won.”

Short and blunt, relieving and refreshing. Nayeon liked that. What she didn’t like was the sound of cheering from Mina’s team, and what she didn’t like was Mina’s team making their way over to them with broad smiles on their faces. She heard Dahyun gulp, and Tzuyu’s hitched breath. Jihyo said nothing. Nayeon looked over to her.

A tear was trailing down Jihyo’s face. One single tear that represented all the misery in her, all the misery in Nayeon and Dahyun and Tzuyu. One tear that represented all the misery now and for years to come.

They had worked hard for this. This was their ultimate goal. They wanted this. So  why were they being made to feel so terrible?

“Congratulations!” Jeongyeon and Momo yelled, the other girls following up with enthusiastic “congrats” of their own. Mina stopped in front of Nayeon, her eyes sparkling with happiness. It utterly shattered Nayeon’s heart. “Congratulations,” she murmured, that same gummy smile present on her face. The very smile that would be wiped off her face in the next few seconds.

Nayeon copied the smile in her mind. She wouldn’t see it from now on. But she wanted to remember it.

“As for your team.” A man approached them, adjusting the tie laying smoothly across his white dress shirt. He addressed the statement to Mina, who straightened, her fellow team members following suit. “I don’t believe you’ve been informed of what will happen to you. Has Im Nayeon told you, by any chance...?”

“As you said, we weren’t informed of anything,” Mina told him, her voice soft and bewildered. She turned around, looking back at Nayeon, her eyebrows furrowed. Nayeon couldn’t say anything, nor could she make any types of gestures. The moment had arrived, leaving her at a loss for words and with painfully dry eyes – she was going to cry soon.

“Ah. I see.” The man inhaled deeply, folding his hands behind his back. “I’m extremely sorry to tell you this, but this loss for your team is more impactful than you think it is. You will be sent straight to your origins – in other words, your team will be stripped of all achievements and sent to start over, from the very beginning.”

As he told Mina’s team of what had befallen them, Nayeon felt an overwhelming urge to turn away. Tzuyu already had, and Dahyun was staring at the ground, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Jihyo and Nayeon were the only ones to continue watching the ordeal that took place in front of them, except Jihyo was openly crying...and Nayeon wasn’t. Though she was terribly close to it; Mina’s eyes had widened and were fixed on Nayeon, piercing her through and through with an aching, sizzling, icy look of utter astonishment. This would not end well. Then again, it had already been written, many years ago, hadn’t it? By the people in far more important positions than Nayeon. They were the writers. They were the puppet-masters, and these girls were their pawns. Nayeon was just a pawn who had caught on quickly. She was also a pawn who would shut up and let the masters play out their stories, because her own story would have a happy ending, if she kept quiet.

Or would it? Nayeon was starting to rethink that. In fact, if she really thought back, she had started to rethink that the day her team found out they were up against Mina’s team. Even further back: being completely, truly honest to herself, Nayeon had already suspected something the minute she saw Mina’s team stroll into the large room where their first “match” would be held.

No, she was the pawn who had known since the start. She was the pawn who knew that this would not have a happy ending for her. Why didn’t she say anything?

She was stupid. So stupid. Nayeon kept reminding herself of that as she watched the happy expressions on the faces of Mina’s team members sink, lapsing into misery and shock and anger. Pure, fiery anger. At being betrayed. But no one’s expression hurt Nayeon more than Mina’s. For Mina’s face was cool, blank...and her lips were curled into the smallest of smiles.

The man finally stopped talking, adjusting his tie one more time (damn that tie, Nayeon wanted to wrap it around the guy’s neck and strangle him) and turning to Nayeon. “Now then. Your team has two minutes. You’ll be called for the award ceremony. Get your faces ready.” And with a look of disdain (more or less) at Dahyun and Jihyo’s tear-stained faces, he strolled off, like nothing was wrong in the world. Like he hadn’t just ruined the lives of nine girls.

No words were exchanged, at first. All that filled the silence between Nayeon and Mina’s teams were the sounds of soft sniffles and sobs (Jihyo and Dahyun). Nayeon met the eyes of every member on Mina’s team, and they all looked back at her, their eyes screaming the same sentence over and over again. What have you done?

Not Mina’s, though. No, Mina’s eyes were hollow. Nayeon was unable to see anything in them. They were bereft of the usual sparkle they contained, and there was absolutely no emotion, either. Unlike usual. It scared Nayeon. It scared her to death.

Chaeyoung was the first one to break the tense silence, which was a surprise to Nayeon. The younger, shorter girl didn’t typically show her emotions, and didn’t like to, either. She was tough, like Tzuyu, but on a smaller scale. She approached Tzuyu, tears spilling out of her eyes, hands clasped together as if she was begging for something. “Tzuyu...Tzuyu, what is this?”

Tzuyu didn’t respond. Her back was turned to everyone, and Nayeon knew for a fact that she would not turn around until the last second. Nayeon’s best guess was that the girl was silently crying. She must have been beyond hurt, but she would not allow herself to break, not in front of everyone. Nor did she know how to handle this. This sort of situation had never happened to Tzuyu.

“Please...” Chaeyoung took a long, shuddering breath, her hands removing themselves from their clasped position and reaching out, fingertips brushing Tzuyu’s back. “Tzuyu, please say something...make me understand!”

Silence. And then, in a quiet, cracking voice, Tzuyu spoke the words that Nayeon knew would haunt her for life.

“This industry is a dirty industry. Every team for themselves.”

One step back. Then two. Chaeyoung’s hands fell to her sides as she slowly moved away from Tzuyu, rivers of salt steadily flowing down her face now. The heartbreak, shock, and anger she felt was evident in her expression. She turned away, swallowing hard, and took her place beside Jeongyeon, leaning into the older girl.

(Nayeon glanced over to Tzuyu. The girl’s shoulders were shaking, and soft hiccups could be heard. She would’ve gone to comfort her, had it not been an inopportune time.)

“Sana...” Dahyun stepped out from behind Nayeon, approaching Sana just the way Chaeyoung had approached Tzuyu. “Sana, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice already raspy and clogged with tears. Jihyo followed her, stopping the younger girl by gripping onto her hand. Her expression was pained, and though Nayeon knew all she meant to do was lead Dahyun back, she couldn’t help but speak as well, her voice heartbreakingly quiet. “Jeongyeon, Momo. Please understand. We never meant for any of this to happen.” Her words were genuine, that was for sure. But just by looking at the other girls’ eyes, Nayeon could instantly tell that those words – the words spoken by Dahyun and Jihyo, the apologetic words – had completely flown over their heads, whereas Tzuyu’s statement had lodged itself most likely permanently into their minds, their souls...their hearts.

One person had not yet spoken. Nayeon didn’t want that person to speak, either. But at that point, her wishes and wants were virtually irrelevant. So of course, that person spoke.

Mina raised her eyes up, from the ground to Nayeon. A small, coldly polite smile adorned her face, and in that moment, she looked more beautiful than Nayeon had ever seen her. (Probably because Nayeon was going to lose her.)

“Congratulations, Im Nayeon.” Mina stared at Nayeon, her gaze never wavering, never breaking eye contact. There was a fiery gleam in her eyes, shining behind the clouds that were on the surface. “You’ve won. You’ve beat one of the only teams who stand a chance against you in all of South Korea, and you’ve sent them to the very bottom, while you continue to rise to the top. Chances are you’ll never feel the pain they will, and you’ll never have to work from scratch ever again.”

Each and every word Mina said was a shard of glass, piercing Nayeon’s body and sending sharp jolts of agony all throughout her arms and legs. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She couldn’t apologize, or defend herself. She couldn’t deny what Mina was saying, for it was all true. And she deserved this. She had made the decision to cold-heartedly beat Mina’s team and advance into a successful future. She was the reason why this was all happening. She had betrayed them, and by betraying them, she had broken everyone’s hearts. None of them would ever be able to trust or love as much as they were able to before.

How one decision can have such a toxic effect, Nayeon understood that now. She just wished she had understood it before this all happened. But then again, her wishes and wants were virtually irrelevant. There was no point.

Mina’s smile softened into a more sad, yet still optimistic one. “You’ve chosen your path, Nayeon. It just happened to be the best one for you. We would’ve all done the same. Don’t blame yourself.”

Lies. Mina was hurt. Mina would’ve never done that. Nayeon could tell. Mina was still sacrificing her own happiness for Nayeon. Mina truly loved Nayeon. It wouldn’t last for long.

“Do you know why I’m not crying, unlike the others?” Mina’s voice had lowered to a steady whisper. Her gaze stayed steady, just like her voice. Nayeon found it harder and harder to keep the eye contact. A lump started to form in , threatening to choke her and overwhelm her with all the emotions she had kept behind the brick wall until now. She shook her head slightly, as much as she could manage.

Mina’s smile widened – just a bit. “You’re not crying. You’ve never cried. Whatever you’ve felt, you’ve never let it get the best of you. You’re tough, Nayeon, and that’s what I love the most about you.”

That’s what I love the most about you.

Nayeon prayed for the ending to come quick. For it to hurry up and shoot the gun it was holding. For the bullet to be launched and dig deep into Nayeon’s exterior, until it reached her interior and shattered her whole. The glass shards were still embedded within her. The bullet would do the trick.

“You always have your eyes on the prize, as some might say,” Mina continued, her hand cradling Nayeon’s face, her thumb slowly rubbing Nayeon’s cheek. Nayeon’s tears-free cheek. “You’ll always put a smile on your face and look ahead, to your ultimate goal. All you want is success for your team and yourself. That’s what you’ve been training for, and you won’t let anything get in the way. That’s just one of the reasons why I fell in love with you, Im Nayeon. You’re stubborn and won’t let go of your life’s aim. You’re loyal. And it’s something you’ve taught me to do. So, when my team and I walk away from here, I won’t be crying. I’ll be holding my head up high, smiling. And I’ll be looking ahead to where my team will be in the future.” She removed her hand from Nayeon’s cheek, the warmth slowly dissolving and being replaced with...

...a tear.

Nayeon stared, eyes wide, tears slowly dripping down her face, as Mina backed away to her team. Her shoulders were set back, her chin held high, her lips curved into a smile. She looked proud. She looked like she could conquer the whole world. She looked like what Nayeon had always wanted to be and never could be.

She looked like an angel. An angel that was parting from Nayeon’s life. The angel that had brought light to Nayeon, and the angel that was now taking it all away, because Nayeon had scared the angel away with the clawed monster that was hiding underneath her misleading appearance.

Nayeon wasn’t loyal. Nayeon was selfish. Stupid. Selfishly stupid. Nayeon was an idiot. Not her teammates. But her.

“Im Nayeon!” The man from before came jogging up to them, adjusting his tie like always and passing his hand over his perfectly combed hair. “Your team is being called up for the award ceremony.”

“Let’s go,” Jihyo said softly. Her voice was still heartbreakingly quiet. Nayeon had never heard Jihyo’s voice this quiet. But then again, she had never seen Tzuyu cry or be at a loss for words because of her emotions. She had never seen Dahyun plead. And she had never cried because of something like this. Because of a victory.

It was the day where all expectations had been shattered, in multiple ways. It was the day that would burn itself into their memories for life. It was the day that would change them, for good or for bad, Nayeon didn’t know.

All she did know was that she was leading her team up the podium, all of them with faces still stained with tears, their eyes bloodshot, wearing cold, cold expressions.

All she did know was that there was now a ceramic wall surrounding all of them. A ceramic wall they’d never let anyone else come through again.

Victory can be sweet, or bittersweet. Today, it’s neither of those things. Today, victory is sharp and sour. Today, victory is the thorn you don’t see at first when you’re going to pluck a rose, and it takes you by surprising, utterly mutilating your fingers. Blood everywhere. Destruction, in which there is no beauty. Lies.