POV: Ryu Minho
The air in the practice room had never felt so heavy. Syndicate had always been my second family, a unit of five misfits bound together by music and shared dreams. But tonight, it felt like a fragile glass sphere teetering on the edge of a cliff.
Hyunwoo's pacing was relentless, every step sharp against the polished floor. His jaw was clenched, fists tightening and unclenching. Jisoo and Taeyang tried their usual antics, tossing comic relief into the mix, but it fell flat under the storm brewing between the leader and me. Daehyun remained stoic, silent, observing with that calm, grounded presence only he could maintain.
My heart was a mess of conflicting emotions. I had forced distance between Ara and me to protect Syndicate. Hyunwoo's warning, the looming presence of Jihoon, and CEO Park's manipulations pressed down on me like lead. My chest ached, and every rehearsal note felt hollow.
After the heated confrontation with Hyunwoo, I felt trapped, suffocated. I couldn't breathe, couldn't focus, and couldn't face Ara without a storm of guilt and longing consuming me. So I left.
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POV: Ryu Minho – Han River
The streets of Seoul were quiet as I slipped away from the practice room, leaving Hyunwoo, the group, and even Hyunsoo behind. I found myself wandering toward the Han River, the city lights reflecting off the dark water like scattered stars.
I leaned against the railing, the night breeze brushing against my face. The river stretched endlessly before me, a ribbon of silver cutting through the heart of the city. I closed my eyes, letting the sound of the water fill the emptiness inside.
Memories flooded me—our first meeting on the movie set, the awkward laughter, the accidental touches of our hands, the duet we had recorded together, and the quiet moments in the studio where our eyes had met and hearts had aligned.
I remembered the first night we had fallen for each other. The studio was dimly lit, microphones between us, but it felt like we were the only two people in the world. Her voice had filled every corner of my heart, her laughter echoing in my soul. I had wanted to tell her everything right then, but the world wasn't kind to such confessions.
I pressed my forehead against the cool metal of the railing. The city hummed around me, oblivious to the war raging inside my chest. I could still see her smile, still feel the warmth of her hand brushing mine as we passed the microphone back and forth. Those memories were both a blessing and a curse. They reminded me of why I was fighting—but also of what I was sacrificing.
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POV: Han Ara
Little did I know, Minho had slipped away. I felt his absence keenly, even though I tried to focus on the group, on interviews, on choreography. Jihoon lingered near me, that polished, smug grin on his face. He didn't need words; his presence alone made the tension unbearable.
I longed to reach out to Minho, to see him, to tell him I understood, that I waited for him despite everything. But duty, reputation, and public scrutiny held me back. I couldn't risk Syndicate's harmony—or my own career—for my heart.
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POV: Ryu Minho – Han River
I pulled my jacket tighter around me, staring at the shimmering river, trying to let the water wash away the chaos inside. The city lights danced across the surface like scattered reflections of my memories.
I thought of Hyunwoo's words, the weight of his leadership, and Daehyun's silent wisdom. Protect the group. Sacrifice your feelings. But how long could I sacrifice my heart before it broke completely?
I closed my eyes and let myself remember the little moments with Ara—the way she had shyly smiled during breaks on the movie set, the way her voice had blended with mine in perfect harmony, the way her presence alone had filled the room with warmth.
The river flowed endlessly, indifferent to my pain. And in that vastness, I allowed myself a rare moment of vulnerability. I whispered into the night, "Ara… I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to survive this without you."
The wind carried my words across the water, unseen, unheard. And yet, it felt like the first time I had shared my feelings freely, without fear of consequence.
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POV: Han Ara
Back at the agency, I sat in the quiet of my apartment, replaying every interaction, every glance from the day. My chest ached as I thought of Minho. I knew he was struggling, though I didn't know where he had gone.
The duet, the movie set, the private laughter—all of it haunted me now more than ever. Jihoon's presence was a constant reminder that Minho's distance was deliberate, protective. And though I hated the pain, I also understood the reason behind it. He was trying to protect me—and Syndicate—from chaos that neither of us could control.
I whispered his name into the empty room, hoping the night would carry it to him somehow. "Minho… please be safe."
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POV: Ryu Minho – Han River
Minutes—or maybe hours—passed by. I didn't know. Time felt irrelevant as I stared at the water, remembering everything we had shared and everything I had to give up. My phone buzzed in my pocket—Hyunsoo checking in, reminding me the group was expecting me—but I ignored it. I needed this moment of solitude, this chance to confront my own heart without distraction.
I thought of Ara's laugh, the warmth of her eyes, the first time I realized I was in love. My chest tightened with longing, but I knew the reality waiting for me: Hyunwoo's trust, the group's cohesion, and the unseen hand of CEO Park ready to exploit any fracture.
The Han River was quiet. The city's noise was distant. And for the first time that day, I allowed myself to truly feel—the love, the guilt, the fear, the hope—all intertwined like the current beneath the surface.
I whispered again, "I'll find a way… I promise. I'll come back."
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POV: Hyunwoo
Meanwhile, back at the practice room, the group had sensed Minho's absence. His departure left an uncomfortable silence. Even Jisoo and Taeyang's attempts at humor felt hollow. Daehyun's stoic presence reminded me that our unity was fragile.
I realized then that this fracture wasn't just about Minho. It was about all of us. About trust, loyalty, and the unspoken bonds that held Syndicate together. I had to step up—not just as a leader, but as a bridge.
And I knew that when Minho returned, things would have to change. We couldn't go on like this, not if Syndicate was to survive.
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Ending Scene:
The night deepened over Seoul. Minho leaned against the railing at the Han River, lost in memories of Ara, of the duet, of laughter and stolen glances on the movie set. Across the city, Ara lay awake, imagining him there, sensing his absence, wishing she could reach him.
Neither of them slept. Neither of them let go. And in the quiet hum of the river, under the indifferent stars and glittering city lights, they both understood one undeniable truth: the fractures within Syndicate mirrored the fractures in their hearts—and the coming storm would test every bond, every promise, and every melody they had ever shared.