The practice building buzzed with life long before sunrise.
Trainees streamed in with duffel bags slung over their shoulders, chattering nervously about camera angles, song cuts, and whether the producers were planning another evil editing trick to pit them against each other. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, too bright, too sterile, like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
And in the middle of it all… Rika.
Her fingers fumbled with the strap of her dance shoes as she sat on the bench, trying to look normal. Ordinary. Forgettable. She laughed at a joke one of the other girls made, smiled at the staff when they walked by, nodded like her whole body wasn't vibrating with dread.
But inside? She was unraveling.
