"You're tired, not defeated."
The city never really slept — not Seoul. It hummed with dreams that refused to fade, even past midnight.
Inside a dim training room, the mirrors caught only exhaustion: one boy, drenched in sweat, still practicing the same dance step that wouldn't come out right.
Rian Lee, eighteen, trainee of a company no one cared about.
The small speaker crackled; the same verse repeated again and again until it became a blur.
He collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving.
"What's the point?" he muttered. "Even if I debut, who'd ever notice us? We can't even find a mirror without a crack." He let out a bitter laugh, ashamed of how pathetic he sounded. "Should I quit? I don't want to… but why does it feel like this leads nowhere?"
A sudden voice broke the silence. "Then maybe you should rest. Remember — you're allowed to rest, but not to stop. You're allowed to cry, but not to quit. You're allowed to feel scared, but not to run away. Every idols was once a trainee and Every trainee was once lost. The difference is, they kept going. so don't quit"
Rian looked up.
Framed by the doorway was Lira Faith Sandoval — the famous foreign trainee from the big company across the street. Everyone knew her: half-Filipina, all-talent, already a legend among rookies.
She held a water bottle, eyes kind but firm. "Mind if I join for a bit?"
Rian blinked, unsure if he was hallucinating. "You… know who I am?"
Lira smiled faintly. "Not yet. But I saw you through the window yesterday. You looked like you loved dancing even when no one was watching."
He let out a weak laugh. "I don't know about love anymore."
She sat beside him, handing him the bottle. "Come on. You're tired, not defeated. Rest when you need to. You're good—don't waste it."
Her voice carried something steady — belief.
Rian took a sip, unsure why his chest tightened.
They practiced a few minutes together. She corrected his posture, counted steps, encouraged every small improvement.
No cameras, no audience — just two trainees chasing the same dream under buzzing lights.
---
When they finally sat again, the clock ticked past 1 a.m.
Rian asked quietly, "Aren't you supposed to be resting? You'll debut soon, right?"
Lira chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face."People say that a lot. But nothing's certain until you're on stage. That's why I keep practicing — in this industry, there's no guarantee. The fear doesn't go away; you just learn to dance with it."
He watched her then — how her confidence wasn't arrogance, but a calm fire.For the first time in weeks, he smiled genuinely."You sound like someone who never gets tired."
"Of course I do," she said softly. "But I rest. And then I start again."
When she stood to leave, she said, "I'll see you on stage one day, Rian."
He wanted to ask how she knew his name, but the words stuck in his throat.
---
After she left, the room felt different — brighter somehow.
Rian stared at the cracked mirror again, and this time he didn't see failure.
He saw someone who might one day deserve that kind of faith.
He picked up his phone and typed in the notes app:
'For her, I'll become someone worth standing beside.'
Then he pressed play,
and danced again — not because he had to,
but because someone believed he still could.