POV: Ryu Minho
The morning air was cold, crisp, and unforgiving, pressing against my skin as I walked through the glass doors of FLUX Entertainment. Each step echoed on the marble floors, but inside, my mind was louder. The secret duet with Ara was burning a hole through my thoughts. Every note, every fleeting glance in the studio lingered, haunting me. And yet, today wasn't about Ara. Today, it was about surviving Syndicate.
Hyunwoo had been unusually silent since our last rehearsal. I could feel his eyes following me like a predator in the shadows, always calculating, always waiting. Jisoo and Taeyang had laughed about it, calling him "Minho's personal storm cloud," but I knew better.
When I entered the practice room, Hyunwoo was already there, pacing. His posture was rigid, arms folded, eyes sharp as knives. He didn't even glance at me until I set down my water bottle.
"Minho," he said, voice low, controlled, deadly. "We need to talk."
I nodded slowly, heart thumping. This can't be good.
He gestured to the floor. "Dance with me. Again."
My stomach sank. Hyunwoo's dance practices weren't just exercises—they were a test of discipline, endurance, and endurance alone. One misstep could cost you more than pride; it could cost your place in the group.
The music began, and I followed. At first, everything felt chaotic. My movements were stiff, hesitant. He was perfection embodied, moving like a storm contained in flesh, every beat precise. I mirrored him as best as I could, but the disparity was obvious.
"Stop," Hyunwoo barked after a particularly clumsy turn. My chest tightened. Sweat beaded at my temples. "Do you even want to be here, Minho? Or are you just another puppet CEO bought?"
The words hit me like a punch. I opened my mouth to respond, but no sound came. He wasn't just angry; he was furious, and beneath that fury, I could feel the fear of someone who thought he might lose control.
"I… I'm trying," I said finally, voice shaky.
Hyunwoo's dark eyes bore into mine. "Trying isn't enough. You think you're talented? You think you're special? There's no 'special' in Syndicate, Minho. There's only discipline, respect, and the group."
I swallowed hard. He was right, in a way. My voice might have stolen the spotlight, but I was still raw, unpolished, untested. I had talent, yes, but talent alone couldn't survive this world.
Before I could respond, the room's door flung open. Jisoo and Taeyang burst in, completely oblivious to Hyunwoo's tension.
"Heyyy, Minho!" Jisoo called, voice ridiculously cheerful. "You're totally amazing, like, seriously, the duet leaked online! People are already fangirling!"
Taeyang waved frantically. "We've got you, dude. Don't worry. Hyunwoo's just grumpy 'cause you sound better than him sometimes."
Hyunwoo's jaw clenched. "Enough." His tone was ice-cold. "Leave. Both of you."
They backed out immediately, hands raised in mock surrender, but not before Jisoo whispered, "We're still your bodyguards, promise!"
I exhaled slowly, feeling a small measure of relief. Hyunwoo's wrath might have been terrifying, but Jisoo and Taeyang's presence kept me grounded.
---
The rest of the day was a blur of rehearsals and vocal training. Every moment, I felt Hyunwoo's judgmental gaze, following me like a shadow. And yet, during a short break, my phone buzzed. A message from Ara:
"Don't let him scare you. Keep singing your truth."
I smiled, heart racing. Her words were a lifeline, a spark in the storm. But the smile didn't last. I knew the moment Hyunwoo found out about our secret duet, the storm wouldn't be just glances or words—it would be fury unleashed.
---
Evening arrived, bringing with it the dreaded group meeting. All five members gathered in the CEO's office. Park Jun-seok sat behind his desk, expression calm, almost too calm, as if he knew exactly what was about to unfold.
Hyunwoo spoke first, voice low, dangerous. "We need to address the… distractions. Some members seem more focused on personal projects than the group." His eyes locked on mine for a long, deliberate moment.
I swallowed. The room went silent. Even Jisoo and Taeyang stopped fidgeting. Daehyun, as always, watched, quiet, unreadable.
"I'm not distracted," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm… doing my best for Syndicate."
Hyunwoo's laugh was bitter, sharp. "Your best? Your best is making everyone else look like amateurs. You think your little duet with Ara is harmless? Do you even understand what's at stake? The spotlight isn't just yours, Minho. You're not a solo star yet. You're a part of this family. Or you will be destroyed."
The word "destroyed" hit me like ice water. I felt the sting of every failure I'd ever faced in life—rejection, hunger, loneliness—piling onto this single moment. My throat burned, but I refused to back down.
"I… I'm not trying to overshadow anyone," I said. "I just… I want to sing. I want to give my all."
Hyunwoo's eyes narrowed, studying me like a predator deciding whether its prey was worth the fight. "Then prove it. Prove you belong. Not to the CEO, not to Ara… to us. To Syndicate. One wrong step, and I swear… I will destroy you myself."
Silence hung in the room. The words weren't empty threats. I could feel the weight behind them—the pride, the fear, and the deep love he had for the group he was trying to protect.
---
Later, during a private rehearsal, Jisoo and Taeyang cornered me in the hall.
"Man… Hyunwoo's scary," Taeyang whispered, wide-eyed. "You're like a rabbit in a wolf's den."
"More like a tiger," Jisoo corrected, grinning. "Your voice shook the room today. Hyunwoo hates it 'cause it's real. Not perfect, not fake. Real."
I chuckled softly, though my stomach still twisted. "Thanks… I guess."
"We got your back, dude," Taeyang said seriously. "Just… be careful. Hyunwoo doesn't forgive easily."
---
That night, I sat alone in the practice room, guitar in hand, strumming aimlessly. The faint hum of city lights through the windows mirrored the quiet storm inside me. I thought about Ara, about the duet, about Hyunwoo's warning. The truth was clear: I wanted to sing for the people who mattered, the people who heard me. And yet, I had to survive the ones who would destroy me if I faltered.
I closed my eyes, letting the chords flow. Somewhere, between the strings and the silence, I found clarity. I will belong. Somehow. I will survive. I will sing.
And just as my resolve solidified, my phone buzzed again. Another message from Ara:
"Minho… don't let him scare you. You're stronger than you think."
I smiled faintly, heart racing. Somewhere in the cold, harsh world of idols, a spark of warmth had taken root.
---
Ending Scene:
Later, back in the dorm, Hyunwoo silently placed a folder on my bed. Without a word, he left. Curious, I opened it. Inside were rehearsal schedules, choreography notes, and a single note in his handwriting:
"Prove it. Not for me. Not for the CEO. For us. Don't fail Syndicate—or yourself."
I stared at the note, heart hammering. Fear, respect, and something else—anticipation.
Somehow, I knew this was only the beginning. The storm wasn't over. And I would need all my strength—voice, heart, and spirit—to survive it.