[Two weeks later, at approximately 7.00am]

This isn’t what she’d expected to find. Not after years of searching. She did not anticipate that she’d arrive at a simple grave in the cemetery. The golden letters carved into pale marble stare back her mockingly. The anger she’d barely suppressed for heaven knows how long threatens to bubble over at first. She feels the urge to kick the stone-head.

But one must still respect the dead.

So she clenches her jaw, her hands curling into fists by her side as she glares wordlessly at the grave.

[Three years ago]

She can’t bear to look at the face she knows is full of forgiveness. Instead, she stares through her tears at her hand clutching the white sheets at the foot of the hospital bed. feels incredibly tight, so much she knows that it’ll hurt if she were to talk right now. But it doesn’t hurt as much as the guilt infesting her lungs. Silence rings, loud and clear, in the ward.

“Seungwan-unnie…” A gentle voice, soft and mellow, draws her out of her pained stupor.

She blinks her tears away before they can fall and she finally has the courage to meet orbs that only offer understanding, and no accusation. Sejeong smiles at her, her trademark smile, bright and unfaltering. The younger girl remains quiet, as though she knows Seungwan has lots to say, but isn’t sure how to put her thoughts into words just yet.

So she waits.

Seungwan knows. She knows that the world could come crashing down and still, Sejeong would wait. For her.

Another fifteen minutes go by, not a word exchanged. Seungwan wants Sejeong to scream at her. To cry and hit her. To blame her for a life’s dream coming to a stuttering halt.

But Sejeong does nothing. And Sejeong waits.

Finally, Seungwan breaks, her voice trembling with emotion, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to worry. And I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Sejeong, we’re friends before I’m your manager. I will always worry!” Seungwan snaps, “How could you think I’d ever be disappointed in you?!”

“I’m not dying, Unnie,” Sejeong answers, calm and composed, “I’ll just be…later than planned.”

If Seungwan is honest, it’s a little too composed. Especially for a girl in a hospital bed, about to undergo a delicate vocal nodule surgery that could cost her the dream she’s chased for as many years as Seungwan has been around for.

“There are risks, Sejeong! They can’t promise your full voice back and it could undo all those years of training!” Seungwan yells, running a hand through her hair in frustration, “You’ve dreamed of being a singer your whole life! I honestly don’t know how to look at you right now! I missed the signs at every turn! How could I—”

“Stop it, Unnie.”

Seungwan’s mouth whirs to a stop at her friend’s command.

“Come here,” Sejeong reaches out her hand, beckoning for Seungwan to draw closer.

The older girl hesitates at first, but as much as she believes she deserves punishment, she longs for forgiveness, in whatever way Sejeong will give it. So she takes a step towards her. And another. Then another. Until she feels Sejeong’s warm fingertips brush against her skin. The younger girl’s fingers wrap around her forearm and pulls her closer. Seungwan’s stubborn feet stumble towards her friend.

“Please stop blaming yourself,” Sejeong rubs her thumb in soothing circles on Seungwan’s skin, “I was the one who chose to listen to Hwangshik-seonsaengnim and ignored all the signs. I forced myself even when I knew I was crossing the limits. You didn’t notice because I deliberately hid it from you until I couldn’t anymore. It was never your fault, Unnie.”

“Sejeong, the company is re-assessing your contract,” Seungwan squeezes shut her eyes and draws in a breath sharply, “I still…feel like I failed you. That you felt like you couldn’t come to me. Maybe I was too—”

“I told you to stop, didn’t I, Unnie,” Sejeong’s voice cuts through the older girl’s ramble, soft with a stern edge, “I knew I could approach you. I knew you’d jump in and defend me straight away if I told you. But I allowed my pride to speak louder than the truth. If the company lets me go because of this careless decision I made, so be it.”

Seungwan falls silent.

“You’re not a bad manager. And you’re definitely not a bad friend,” the younger girl continues, “And forgive me just this once for being rude, but…Son Seungwan, none of this is your fault. And if you start blaming yourself again, I’ll come out of the operation room and hit you.”

Seungwan lets out a choked giggle, “You’ll be under anaesthesia, I doubt you can actually do that.”

“You’re smiling again,” Sejeong releases her hold to nudge her playfully, before she grows a little more serious again, “Maybe…you can chase your real dreams to write and sing your own songs now.”

Seungwan freezes, the same smile Sejeong had observed fading away almost immediately.

Sejeong fumbles with her words, “I think it m-makes sense t-to—”

“I won’t record a song. I won’t sing in front of a crowd. I won’t chase that dream, not until you catch yours.”

Sejeong stares at her in disbelief, “Unnie, you—”

“Ms. Kim, Dr. Han is waiting in the operation room,” a nurse pokes his head through the door, “Are you ready?”

“She is,” Seungwan answers before Sejeong can open , stepping away from the younger girl.

The nurse nods and enters, another nurse following suit. They unlock the bed wheels and push the bed out. Sejeong turns to look at her close friend one more time and before they leave the ward, Seungwan calls out to her, “Take it as motivation for you to get better soon. I’ll wait, for as long as it takes.”

The door squeaks shut, and she watches Sejeong get wheeled away, past the window. Everything comes crashing down then. Her heart shatters as regret and anger pierces it from within, and she reaches to claw at the sharp ache.

“I hate him. I hate him so much…”

This time the tears don’t stop.

[Back to the present]

“Who knew I’d find you here?” Seungwan asks, although she doesn’t expect any reply, “Because of your chase after perfection…you almost snuffed her dream out. A vocal trainer who doesn’t know jack- about the risks of vocal nodules for someone whose life is built on singing? Really?”

“Following in Jang Hajoon's footsteps… You ruined Sejeong’s life, you bastard,” she scuffs her shoe against the marble and lets out a disbelieving scoff, “And here I was, hoping to find you alive and well so I can finally give you a piece of my mind. I should’ve guessed you were too much of a coward to live."

She inhales, willing the air to collect every bitter particle within her. She exhales.

“But I should thank you. For opening my eyes,” she remarks, resting a hand on the head-stone, “I’ll see to it that the Jang Hajoon you built your dreams on gets destroyed. That’s the least you deserve, don’t you think, Hwangshik?”

[A private meeting room on the 9th floor of La Rouge Entertainment HQ, at approximately 2.00pm]

“Shouldn’t you be with Irene right now, Manager Son?” Lee asks as he pulls out the chair opposite the blonde.

“She’s having vocal practice. I’m sure she’ll be fine without me for an hour,” the manager replies, as she neatens her folders for the fifteenth time since she’d sat down to wait for the choreographer.

He hums and leans back into his chair, crossing his legs and folding his arms, “So what did you want to meet for?”

“I’m curious about the trainee life from 2009 to 2013. You’re one of the most senior staff members here, so I thought you could…tell me more about it.”

He stiffens, the corners of his lips sliding down, “Why…do you want to know about it?”

“I want to understand the environment that Joohyun trained in,” Seungwan answers nonchalantly, “After all, I’m sure you already know my management style is very different from La Rouge’s?”

“Of course,” he tilts his chin upwards, assessing the individual in front of him with hawk-like eyes, “Sending an artist, her dance crew and a senior staff member out of the studio for time-out? That tells me enough.”

“Good,” the manager leans forward, matching his sharp gaze with one of her own, “Then I’ll cut to the chase, Mr. Lee. Who were the other trainees besides Joohyun during those four years?”

The choreographer narrows his eyes, searching her unwavering stare for a clue as to why she’s seeking such an answer. He remembers the way the manager had interrupted his lecture to help one of his dancers. How she’s boldly shaking things up without so much as a care about the age-old traditions she’s breaking.

There’s something unsettling about her, but…it’s refreshing.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Manager Son,” Lee remarks, the right corner of his lips curving upwards, “But you’re interesting and I want to see what you plan to do with this information.”

“When Haneul just left like that, did it not raise any red flags for anyone?”

“Mr. Jang wasn’t surprised in the very least,” Lee points out, “He said they’d already been in the discussion of letting her end her contract early for a while. So we all assumed that Haneul had been thinking about it for a long time.”

“Did you…notice anything different between Haneul and Joohyun before she left?”

“Well,” the choreographer tries hard to recall, “Other than the rivalry between them growing stronger as they got closer to the 2013 showcase…nothing really comes to mind. Most of us chalked it up to their competitive streak.”

Seungwan frowns, “For close friends to suddenly become rivals… Don’t you find it weird?”

“It’s normal for trainee culture to be competitive. All the other trainees are your rivals when it comes to the chance for debut,” Lee raises a questioning brow, “You seem to be asking a lot about Haneul for someone who’s curious about Joohyun’s trainee life.”

“Haneul is part of her life,” the manager is unperturbed by his attempt to irk her, “Besides, something doesn’t match up. If she’s been planning to leave La Rouge, why would she still compete that strongly until the day she left?”

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