"Not everyone who disappears wants to be forgotten."
Minju read the line over and over again. She kept her eyes glued to the slip of paper that Haru had discovered in his notebook. It floated in front of her, and she was unusually still—like she was frozen in the air.
"That handwriting…" she said softly, almost to herself. "It's not mine."
"Well, obviously," Haru replied in a gentle tone. "You're a ghost, not a stalker."
Minju didn't find anything funny about it.
"I don't know why," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, "but it feels… familiar. Like I should know where it came from, or who wrote it."
Her heart raced as she thought about the words. They echoed in her mind, stirring emotions she couldn't quite understand. It was as if the message was calling out to her—bringing back memories she had long forgotten.
She felt a strange connection to the words, pulling her deeper into a mystery she knew she needed to uncover.
Haru noticed her distant gaze and wondered what was going on inside her head. He could tell that this piece of paper meant something more than just ink on a page.
What if it held secrets about her past?What if it could help her find out more about herself?
After rehearsal, Haru quietly snuck into the archives room—a dusty storage closet tucked away behind the vocal studio where old trainee files were stored. These files were not digitized, so they were all kept in binders filled with yellowing pages. The air was thick with the smell of old paper and dust, making it feel like a place forgotten by time.
Minju glided through the door like a ghostly librarian, her presence both eerie and amusing."You're lucky I'm already dead," she joked. "Or the mold in here would've finished me off for good."Her voice echoed slightly in the small, cramped space.
Haru rolled his eyes, trying to ignore her dramatics."Help me look for something important. If you were ever part of this company… even if it was just for a moment…" he urged, hoping she could assist him in finding the information he needed.
She nodded, floating gracefully above the shelves, her expression turning serious."Start with the years 2016 to 2019. That's when I was… alive," she said, her voice softer now, hinting at memories from her past.
Haru didn't bother asking how she was able to know so much about the files. He was just focused on the task at hand.
With determination, he flipped open the first binder, eager to uncover any secrets hidden within the dusty pages. He knew that within these old files could be clues that would help him understand the company's history—and perhaps even Minju's connection to it all.
Hours passed by, feeling like an endless stretch of time.
Page after page seemed to blur together as they flipped through the thick file.
They saw photos, names, and evaluation sheets—all filled with information.
Then suddenly—
"Wait a minute." Haru came to an abrupt stop. "Look here. 'Yoon Minju.'"
Minju leaned in closer, her heart racing."That's me!" she exclaimed.
The picture showed a teenage girl with bright eyes and a wide grin. She had long, dark hair that framed her face, and her head was slightly tilted, giving her a cheerful look.
But as Haru studied it more closely, his expression changed."Something doesn't feel right," he said, concern creeping into his voice.
"What do you mean?" Minju asked, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach.
He pointed to the evaluation sheet in front of them."This trainee was dropped after just one month."
Minju's eyes widened."But I lasted much longer than that!"
"And look at these notes," Haru continued, his brow furrowing as he read aloud."High energy but lacks control. Fan behavior was disruptive. Removed from the building."
Minju blinked, processing the words."That… doesn't sound like me at all," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
"Are you absolutely sure that's your face in that photo?" Haru asked, his tone serious.
"I—I thought it was…" Minju stammered, feeling her confidence waver as her bright spirit dimmed. Her once glowing demeanor flickered uncertainly.
They sat in silence on the rooftop, the cool night air wrapping around them like a cozy blanket. The stars twinkled brightly above, but all they could hear was the soft rustle of the wind.
"Maybe I wasn't a trainee," she muttered softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I just wanted to be."Her words hung in the air, filled with uncertainty.
"You really don't remember?" he asked, concern etched on his face.
"I remember wanting to debut. I remember loving idols. I remember chasing dreams like a rabid fangirl, with all the passion in my heart," she said, her eyes sparkling with the memories of her past.
"You do that now," he replied, trying to encourage her.
"But I don't remember… how it ended," she admitted, her voice trailing off into the night.
Haru looked out at the stars, taking a deep breath as he tried to find the right words to comfort her.
"You don't have to figure it out all at once," he said gently.
She floated lower, her worries weighing her down."But what if I'm not who I think I am?" she asked, fear creeping into her voice.
"You're still Minju," he reassured her, his tone steady and sincere.
She smiled weakly, filled with doubt."Even if I'm a disaster?"
"Especially because you're a disaster," he replied with a warm grin. "It's okay to be messy, to not have everything figured out. That's what makes you real. And that's what makes you you."
As they continued to sit in silence, the stars sparkled even brighter, as if echoing the truth of his words.
That night, Haru decided to stay late in the practice room. He wanted to focus on improving his dance moves, so he turned on the music and started to move through the choreography slowly. The rhythm of the music flowed through him, guiding his every step.
And then—just for a brief moment—he noticed something strange.
He caught a glimpse of a reflection.
It wasn't Minju, his friend.
Instead, he saw a different figure in the mirror, standing right behind him.
The figure was tall and male, dressed in what looked like an old trainee uniform. It seemed out of place and made Haru feel uneasy.
Feeling a sudden rush of fear, Haru quickly spun around to see who was there.
But when he turned, there was nothing behind him.
Minju wasn't nearby at all.
Haru took a few steps back slowly, his eyes darting around the room.
The mirror remained empty, but his heart raced like a drum in his chest.
In that moment, he realized—he wasn't the only one being watched in that dimly lit practice room.