The Aftermath of the Fall
The suspension of Mr. Choi sent shockwaves through the company. News outlets buzzed with rumors, and the agency's carefully crafted image cracked under the pressure. Yet inside the walls, the war was far from over.
Jiho moved cautiously, knowing that those who fell would try to claw their way back — and new threats would emerge from the shadows.
Enemies in New Forms
Hyunwoo's icy glare now carried a desperate edge. No longer confident and untouchable, he plotted to regain favor by aligning with the director, whose grip had only tightened in Mr. Choi's absence.
Jiho noticed subtle shifts — whispered conversations cut short when he approached, allies retreating behind closed doors.
Unexpected Allies
At the same time, some trainees and staff quietly reached out, drawn by Jiho's growing reputation as a truth-seeker. Among them was Yuna, a junior trainee with a fierce spirit and a secret history of her own betrayals.
Yuna offered Jiho information about the director's moves and helped him navigate the increasingly hostile environment.
The Burden of Leadership
With the company fracturing, Jiho found himself thrust into a reluctant leadership role. His decisions now affected not just himself, but the fragile hopes of others who looked to him.
He wrestled with doubt and exhaustion, questioning if the price he paid was worth the fragile victories.
The Dark Mirror
One night, alone in the practice room, Jiho stared into the mirror. The face looking back was determined but hardened — shadows beneath eyes, lips pressed tight.
He whispered, "How much of me is left?"
His reflection offered no answers.
A Crushing Blow
The director retaliated fiercely, leaking fabricated scandals about Jiho to discredit him. Tabloids twisted his words, turning public opinion against him.
Even some of his closest supporters wavered under the pressure.
The Final Gambit
Refusing to be crushed, Jiho and K planned a decisive move — a live broadcast exposing the full extent of the corruption and betrayals within the company.
The risk was immense, and failure would mean the end of Jiho's career.
But the chance to reclaim truth was worth everything.
Revelations and Ruptures
The broadcast shattered illusions.
Executives resigned, allies fell away, and the industry reeled.
Jiho emerged victorious, but at a cost: the friendships lost, the innocence shattered, and the heavy crown of a man remade by fire.
Silence After the Storm
The days after the broadcast were unnervingly quiet.
No more slanderous articles. No more whispers behind his back. No more sabotage in the hallways. For the first time since he entered the company, Jiho could breathe.
But the silence didn't feel like peace. It felt like the breath right before another storm.
The company had been gutted—Mr. Choi forced into early "retirement," several coaches dismissed, and the director placed under review. A temporary leadership team had taken over.
Jiho, now a name whispered with awe and wariness, had become something else entirely:
A symbol. A warning. A threat.
A Room with No Mirrors
One morning, Jiho walked into the practice room and saw the mirrors covered.
A quiet gesture from the new dance coach. "You've already spent too long staring at yourself through someone else's lens," she said gently.
Jiho paused, hand hovering over the cloth covering the glass.
He nodded once and sat in the center of the room. Alone, he sang—not to impress, not to prove anything, but simply because he could.
It was the first time in months his voice didn't tremble.
The Ghost in the Shadows
That evening, Jiho received a simple message:
K: Come alone. One last time.
He found K waiting at the edge of the city, at a private studio nestled in the back alleys of Mapo. The space was spartan—concrete walls, a few chairs, and a single dusty piano.
K sat on the bench, playing a quiet melody.
"I almost forgot what music sounds like without motive," K said, not turning to face him.
Jiho approached carefully. "Why now?"
K stopped playing and looked up, face tired, but still unreadable.
"Because this is where we say goodbye."
Jiho's heart tightened. "I'm not done."
"No," K said. "But my part in your story is."
A Fractured Truth
K stood, finally facing him.
"I didn't just help you because I saw potential," he said. "I helped you because I failed someone like you, years ago. A boy with stars in his eyes who was devoured by this industry."
Jiho's breath caught. "Who?"
"My younger brother," K replied, voice hollow. "They chewed him up, buried the truth, and pretended he never existed. I tried to fight it then—but I was weak. You weren't."
Jiho took a step closer. "So you used me."
"I protected you," K corrected. "But yes. I needed a reckoning, and you were the fire."
There was no apology in K's voice, only truth.
An Honest Goodbye
Jiho looked away, chest heavy.
"So that's it? You vanish, and I'm just supposed to keep going?"
K walked to the door, pausing at the threshold.
"You don't need me anymore. You never did, not really. Just remember what we burned—don't rebuild it."
And then he was gone.
Beneath the Ashes
Jiho sat alone in the studio for a long time.
Eventually, he approached the piano, fingers hesitating on the keys. He didn't know what he was playing—but it was raw and real.
It was his.
A Letter Never Sent
That night, Jiho wrote a letter.
To Seungmin,
I don't forgive you—not yet. But I miss you.
I hope you find your way out of whatever they used to control you.
I'm still fighting. For both of us.
He folded the letter and never sent it.
The Edge of the Future
With the dust settling, the agency offered Jiho a spot in a new debut lineup.
He stood in front of the mirror, face calm, eyes sharp.
No longer the soft boy who was pushed aside.
Not yet the villain people would one day call him.
But something in between.
Balanced on the edge.