The meeting was winding down—just a few final notes from the lead producer, a handful of nods and thank-yous passed around the table. Lexie shifted slightly in her seat, stealing a glance at her phone nestled on her lap. She typed a quick message under the table, short and to the point, and flicked it off to Haechan.
No emoji. No fluff. Just enough context for the man to know what was up.
As the group began to stand and exchange casual farewells, Lexie reached into her coat pocket and slipped her SM ID card into Haechan's hand. "Go ahead. I'll be right behind you."
He raised a brow, confused for a second, but read the urgency in her eyes and nodded. Mark, just a step behind him, didn't say a word—just followed Haechan out the door.
Lexie exhaled sharply and darted the opposite way, tugging her mask back on as she speed-walked down the corridor.
Please be there. Please be there.
She was already thumbing through her contacts when she turned a sharp corner, pressing her phone to her ear. "Come on... pick up, pick up—"
"Lex?"
"Junny—oh, thank god. Are you in your studio?"
"Yeah, just cleaning some stems. What's up?"
"Are you free for like... an hour? Maybe less? I need you. I'll explain later—just don't say no."
There was a pause on the other line.
"You sound like you're about to drag me into something chaotic," Junny said warily.
"I am," she deadpanned. "Please. I'll be there in like two."
Junny was already standing when Lexie pushed open his studio door. She barely gave him time to ask questions before grabbing him by the sleeve.
"Okay, wait—" he started.
"No time," she said, half-laughing from nerves. "You're coming with me. Haechan and Mark are waiting in my studio. It's for the vocal range project."
Junny blinked as she yanked him toward the hallway. "Okay—wait, why do you need backup for a vocal range test?"
Lexie didn't slow down. "I just do."
"You're literally the one assigning it," he pointed out, half-laughing. "What do you need moral support for?"
She reached the elevator and jabbed the button. "I'll explain later," she said quickly, without looking at him. "Just... be there, sit in, and act like this is the most normal thing in the world."
Junny raised an eyebrow. "You're dragging me into your studio like we're staging a coup or something."
Lexie shot him a sideways glance. "Maybe we are. A small one."
He let out a soft, baffled laugh, still playing along. "Alright, alright, I'm in. But I better get answers after this mystery test session."
"You will," she muttered. "Just... not right now."
The elevator doors opened. She stepped in first—still calm on the outside, but her grip on the ID badge at her side betrayed otherwise.
As soon as the studio door swung open, Lexie clocked them both—Haechan lounging casually in the corner seat, spinning slightly on the wheeled stool like he had no concept of tension, while Mark sat upright, hands tucked into his hoodie sleeves, staring at the screen like it could save him from the awkwardness leaking into the room.
"Yo," Haechan greeted first, spotting Junny with a smug grin. "Unexpected party guest."
Mark looked up too, slower—eyes immediately flickering from Junny to Lexie. Not a word. Just that flicker. Lexie didn't return it. She turned to shut the door behind her, then stepped forward briskly.
"Sorry for the delay," she said, pretending her chest didn't tighten at the silence that followed. "There's a quick emergency, but it's all good now."
She kept her gaze focused on the console, motioning to the screen. "Hyuck, you go first—we'll run a few warm-ups, then test your range from the most commonly used registers in your usual tracks. Just riff through them."
"Copy," Haechan said, sliding into the booth with a mock salute.
Junny took the corner seat near the wall, far enough to stay out of the way but close enough to watch.
As the session started, Lexie found her rhythm—monitoring Haechan's tone, marking notes on her screen, tossing a few vocal instructions through the intercom like she always did.
But her peripheral vision betrayed her. Every time she glanced toward the monitor, she felt Mark there—still quiet, still unreadable.
When it was finally Mark's turn, Lexie didn't flinch—but she might as well have stopped breathing.
He stood slowly, the chair scraping softly against the floor, and walked into the booth with that familiar sluggish walk she remembered—one he always had when he didn't sleep much or didn't want to be seen.
The door clicked shut behind him. Lexie exhaled through her nose.
She kept her tone even, businesslike. "We'll try something slightly different. Breath control on the first sequence, then some inflection shifts on your upper register. I'll run a few loops—you layer freestyle first, then we'll switch to structured patterns."
Mark gave a curt nod.
Then the room went heavy.
The air tightened, coiled in something neither could name but both could feel. Lexie leaned forward, adjusting the booth controls with steady hands—too steady, in fact. She wouldn't let her fingers shake. Not in front of Junny. Not even in front of Haechan.
The track cued.
Mark responded like a switch had flipped. Voice clean, layered sharp, each run precise. He followed every instruction. Repeated lines on cue. Took corrections without pushback. Let her tweak his mic level mid-recording and adjust phrasing without a glance of protest.
From the outside, it looked seamless—two professionals at work. But it was too quiet between them. Too careful.
"Cut that last take," Lexie said finally, her voice a little sharper now through the intercom. "We'll take it up half a step."
Mark didn't argue. He just nodded, eyes trained on the floor as he repositioned himself in front of the mic.
Junny, who'd stayed casually leaned back this whole time, suddenly sat up a little straighter. He glanced between the booth and the soundboard—then at Lexie.
This wasn't just a normal demo session.
There was something else here. Something thick in the air. Like tension humming under the soundwaves.
He saw the way her eyes never lingered too long on Mark's face. How her instructions came out crisp but guarded, like every syllable had been filtered through a firewall she'd built herself.
Junny's brows furrowed slightly.
Next to him, Haechan didn't say a word—just chewed his gum and quietly observed. But when Junny caught the flicker of a knowing smirk tug at the corner of Haechan's lips, it clicked.
Oh.
This is why I'm here.
Mark's voice layered perfectly again.
Lexie leaned into the mic. "Let's run that again, this time hold the phrasing just a second longer."
He did.
And when he looked up between takes—just for a second—Lexie was already looking away, fiddling with the compressor settings.
It wasn't coldness. It was control.
Junny sat back in his chair, finally understanding. This wasn't just vocal range session. This was history quietly unraveling in real time, right in front of them.
When they finally wrapped up, Lexie clicked off the intercom and leaned back, keeping her face unreadable.
Mark stepped out of the booth. Grabbed his water bottle. Wiped a hand on his jeans. He didn't say much—just a quiet, "Thanks," before nodding and stepping back toward the door.
Junny's gaze trailed after him for a beat before turning to Lexie again, brow raised. But she was already pretending to review the waveform on screen.
Even Haechan, ever the chaos instigator, didn't crack a joke.
Because the silence said enough.
He gave her a small nod—more understanding than teasing this time—before he followed Mark out the door, pulling it gently closed behind him.
A few seconds passed.
No one moved.
Then Lexie stood abruptly, her movements just a touch too fast to be casual, and walked over to double-check the booth settings—though everything was already saved and logged. It was the kind of motion people made when they didn't know what to do with their hands, or their thoughts.
Junny didn't press.
Finally, when the tension had drained just enough, Lexie returned to her seat.
She dropped into her chair, finally letting out a breath. Her hands moved almost in sync with the exhale—peeling off her hoodie, cap, and mask in one go, like she was shedding a layer she never wanted to wear in the first place. Even if the studio felt a little too warm with it on, she'd kept everything on the entire time, just to stay invisible. Or at least, less obvious.
But Junny had eyes.
And clearly, so did Mark.
"You're explaining," Junny said flatly, not even trying to hide the suspicion in his tone now as he leaned forward, arms crossed. "Because that was definitely not just a vocal range session."
Lexie stared at the blank screen on her monitor for a beat. Her fingers tapped once against the desk, lips twitching in something between defeat and amusement.
"I know," she muttered.
Junny waited.
And Lexie, still catching her breath—still trying to ground herself in the safety of this room—finally said, "Okay. So... this might take a minute."