EP 4
EP 4
The moment Sullyoon waved at Minji, and Minji smiled back politely, something in Hanni twisted. Not the playful twist she could laugh off — something else. A sting.
Minji turned to her right after, like nothing happened. But Hanni noticed how Sullyoon lingered, how her eyes stayed on Minji a little longer. Maybe it meant nothing. But maybe it didn’t.
Hanni didn’t say anything. Just grabbed her bottle and walked off first when the choreographer ended practice for the day.
That night, back in her room, the dorm felt too loud even in silence.
Hanni sat on her bed, legs pulled up, her phone glowing in her hands. She wasn’t checking messages. She wasn’t even scrolling for fun. She was staring at a headline that had started appearing on fan accounts — an old clip from a variety show resurfaced, a harmless joke she’d made months ago.
Out of context, it looked bad. Comments were piling up.
“ Ugh, she’s always trying too hard.”
“Sunshine? More like spotlight stealer.”
“She’s so annoying lately. Always acting fake.”
Her hand slowly lowered the phone. She didn’t cry. Not yet.
The door creaked slightly. Minji appeared, just for a moment. She looked like she was going to say something — maybe about dinner, or schedules for tomorrow. But she paused when she saw Hanni’s face.
“You okay?” Minji asked.
Hanni forced a smile. “Just tired.”
Minji didn’t press. “Alright. I’ll wake you if you oversleep.”
Hanni nodded. “Thanks, Minji-ya.”
The door closed again.
And Hanni curled deeper into her blanket, phone still buzzing beside her pillow.
The next morning started wrong.
Even before Hanni entered the practice room, she already felt it. The tightness in her chest, the tension behind her smile. Her phone had lit up with more messages she didn’t open.
Jeanz’s group chat had gone quiet. Too quiet.
She arrived first, again. Dropped her bag and didn’t say a word. Just connected her phone to the speaker and hit play.
The same routine they always practiced. The same beat. But Hanni didn’t move like sunshine today.
She moved like she was trying to tear the music apart.
Every step was too sharp. Too fast. Her arms cut the air with a kind of desperation that had nothing to do with performance. Her reflection in the mirror didn’t smile back — it just stared.
Minji arrived next. Quiet as always. She stood by the door and watched.
She’d seen the same comments that morning. Screenshots from their staff. Hanni’s name trending — not for the right reasons.
Danielle came in laughing about something she’d seen on TikTok — until she saw Hanni’s face. She stopped mid-sentence. Hyein followed close behind, whispering something about comments being disabled on Jeanz’s channel.
Then Sullyoon walked in with one of the backup choreographers. She smiled brightly, clearly unaware of the shift in energy.
Only Minji didn’t move.
She stood near the mirror, arms crossed, watching Hanni’s body push itself harder than necessary. Watching the cracks show.
After a few minutes, Hanni realised that all of the members had attended. Then, she stopped dancing and sat on the floor, arms hugging her knees. She stared at nothing.
Whispers floated around the room.
“ Wasn’t it just a joke from like two years ago?”
“She shouldn’t have said it like that though...”
“The company will handle it, right?”
Minji heard it all. She didn’t react.
Sullyoon tried to approach again. “Minji-unnie, can I ask you something about the—”
“Not now.”
Sullyoon blinked. “Okay…”
Minji walked toward Hanni. Slowly. Quietly. She crouched in front of her.
“Hanni.”
No answer.
Minji sat beside her. Waited a beat. “Talk to me.”
Still no reply.
“I saw the comments too,” Minji added, voice soft. “But that’s not why you’re breaking down.”
Hanni gave a small, bitter laugh. “Isn’t it?”
“No,” Minji said. “You’ve been holding it in since yesterday. Sullyoon didn’t help.”
Hanni glanced at her. “So you noticed.”
“You think I wouldn’t?”
Hanni dropped her head into her arms. Her voice was muffled. “I can handle people hating me, you know. But it’s the silence I can’t take. The way everyone looks at me like I’m a problem.”
“You’re not a problem.”
“I feel like one.”
Minji didn’t say anything. Instead, she reached out and took Hanni’s hand — the one clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. She held it gently until the tension slowly released.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to them,” Minji said. “Not here. Not online. Not anywhere.”
Hanni’s eyes welled up. “What if it gets worse?”
“Then I’ll be louder.”
Hanni looked at her.
Minji’s eyes were clear. Steady. Fierce.
“If anyone comes for you, I’ll be the wall they hit first. That’s what I mean when I say I’ve got you.”
The tears finally spilled. Quiet, fast.
No one else saw. Just the two of them, sitting on the floor in the far corner of the practice room. A mess of sunlight and shadow.
After a few minutes, Minji handed Hanni her water bottle. Hanni took it with shaking hands, sipping slowly.
“I hate crying in the practice room,” she said, wiping her cheeks.
“Then don’t cry. Just sweat from your eyes,” Minji said dryly.
That got a small laugh. Hanni bumped her shoulder lightly into Minji’s. “You’re so lame.”
“You’re the one who fell for it.”
“I didn’t fall for anything.”
Minji looked at her sideways. “Not yet, huh?”
Hanni opened her mouth to argue, then stopped.
She didn’t answer.
Minji didn’t press.
The moment passed, but something deeper had settled there. Not a confession. Not a decision. But something real.
Minji stood and offered her hand. Hanni took it.
They walked back toward the others together. Minji didn’t let go until they reached the center of the room.
Danielle saw them coming and smiled nervously. “Ready to get back to it?”
Hanni gave a small nod. “Yeah. Sorry about earlier.”
Danielle shrugged. “No worries. We all break sometimes.”
Hyein gave Hanni her towel. Haerin passed her a banana milk.
And Minji stood just slightly behind her — close enough to catch her if she cracked again.
The music started. And this time, Hanni danced like herself.
Not to prove anything.
Just to breathe.