LE SSERAFIM — Soongsil University

The black-tinted van hummed steadily along the Seoul expressway, the late spring sun filtering through the windows in warm golden strips. Manager Kang Seung-ho, forty-three years old, kept both hands on the wheel, eyes flicking occasionally to the rear-view mirror. Twenty-plus years in the industry had taught him how to stay calm under pressure, but nothing quite prepared him for the particular chaos of managing LE SSERAFIM.

Five young women filled the spacious rear cabin, still buzzing with pre-performance energy. Their PUREFLOW festival outfits were already on, and the confined space of the van made every shift of fabric, every stretch of long legs, every casual laugh feel amplified.

Yunjin lounged in the middle row, platinum blonde hair catching the light as she leaned back against the seat. Her open navy baseball jersey hung loosely off one shoulder, the white cropped bandeau top underneath clinging to the soft swell of her breasts and the defined lines of her toned midriff. The white micro shorts rode high on her long thighs, the light blue garter strap hugging the smooth skin just below the hem. She absentmindedly traced a finger along the garter while scrolling her phone.

“Manager-oppa,” Yunjin called out in her smooth, slightly husky voice, “how much longer? My thighs are starting to stick to the seat already.” She shifted her legs, the motion causing the shorts to ride up another inch.

“About thirty minutes, Yunjin-ah,” Seung-ho replied, his deep voice steady. “Traffic’s lighter than expected. You girls good back there?”

Chaewon, seated right behind him in the captain’s chair position, leaned forward. Her white-and-black striped lace-up crop top framed her petite but athletic torso perfectly, the corset lacing drawing the eye straight to her narrow waist. The navy pleated mini skirt had already shifted high on her thick thighs from sitting. She smiled brightly, leader mode engaged even in the van.

“We’re fine, oppa. Everyone hydrated? Eunchae-ya, drink more water. Festivals are no joke with the heat and the water cannons later.”

Eunchae, the maknae, stretched her long legs across the back row with a groan, her auburn hair cascading over one shoulder. The oversized navy jersey hung open over her white one-shoulder crop top, exposing a tantalizing strip of smooth, toned stomach. Her mesh basketball shorts clung to her powerful thighs as she kicked her chunky white sneakers up onto the seat.

“But unnie, I’m nervous! This is a university festival. There are so many people…” Eunchae’s voice was bright and youthful, but there was a genuine flutter of maknae anxiety underneath.

Sakura, sitting beside Chaewon, chuckled softly. Her short blonde bob framed her delicate face as she crossed her legs, the white mini skirt riding up dangerously high. The navy cropped varsity jacket was half-zipped, revealing the white camisole underneath and the elegant curve of her tiny waist.

“You’ll be amazing, Eunchae. Just like always,” Sakura said in her calm, gentle tone, reaching over to pat the maknae’s knee. The motion made her own skirt shift, exposing more of her toned thighs wrapped in the striped knee-high socks.

Kazuha occupied the far back corner, legs elegantly crossed, the white pleated mini skirt fanned out across the seat. Her long black hair spilled like ink over her shoulders and down her back. The cropped white polo shirt hugged her graceful ballerina torso, while the knee-high socks made her already endless legs look even longer. She was quietly stretching her ankles, pointing her toes in the chunky sneakers with the natural grace of years of ballet training.

“Zuha looks like she’s ready to perform right here in the van,” Yunjin teased, snapping a quick photo.

Kazuha smiled softly, her voice light and melodic. “I’m just warming up. The stage is small today. We need to be careful with formations near the edge.”

Seung-ho glanced in the mirror again, taking in the sight of all five of them. The van smelled faintly of vanilla body mist, fresh laundry, and the subtle mix of their individual perfumes. He had driven them to dozens of schedules, but something about today — the bright festival outfits, the youthful energy crackling in the air, the way the sunlight kept catching on bare midriffs and long legs — made the air feel thicker than usual.

“Manager-oppa, you’re too quiet today,” Chaewon observed, leaning even closer between the seats. Her breath brushed the back of his neck for a moment. “Are you worried about the water cannons? Last time at Incheon, we got completely soaked.”

Seung-ho let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from his chest. “Worried about you five running around wet in white outfits on a university stage? No, not at all. Totally professional thoughts only.”

The girls burst into laughter. Yunjin’s laugh was the loudest, bright and unrestrained as she slapped her thigh, the sound sharp in the enclosed space.

“Liar,” Yunjin accused playfully. “I saw you checking the weather app three times this morning. You know exactly how see-through these tops get when they’re wet.”

Chaewon covered her mouth, giggling. “Oppa, be honest. Whose outfit are you most worried about?”

Seung-ho kept his eyes on the road, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “All of you. Equally. Professional concern.”

“Bullshit,” Sakura said softly with a mischievous smile, rare profanity slipping out in her calm voice. “You stared at Eunchae’s legs for five whole seconds when she climbed into the van.”

Eunchae yelped, pulling her jersey closed dramatically. “Unnie! Don’t expose me!”

The van filled with laughter again. Seung-ho shook his head, a faint smile on his weathered face. At forty-three, he was old enough to be their father, yet these five had a way of making him feel both ancient and strangely alive at the same time. He had watched them grow from nervous trainees into confident performers, but moments like this — casual, intimate, bodies relaxed in revealing outfits — always tested the boundaries of his self-control.

As they exited the expressway and entered the university district, the traffic thickened with students heading to the festival. The girls started their pre-performance ritual: vocal warm-ups, light stretching, and last-minute outfit checks.

Kazuha extended one long leg straight up toward the ceiling of the van, demonstrating her flexibility. The pleated skirt slid back dangerously, revealing the smooth line of her inner thigh and the edge of her safety shorts underneath. Seung-ho’s grip tightened on the steering wheel for a second.

“Zuha-ya, careful,” he muttered.

Kazuha lowered her leg gracefully. “Sorry, oppa. Habit.”

Yunjin, never one to miss an opportunity, suddenly leaned forward between the seats, her blonde hair brushing his shoulder. The open jersey gaped, offering a clear view of her cleavage and the way the bandeau top strained against her chest.

“Oppa, can you turn the AC higher? It’s getting hot back here,” she murmured, voice dropping just a little.

Seung-ho adjusted the temperature without comment, but he could feel the heat rising in the van that had nothing to do with the weather.

Chaewon started going over the setlist again, her leader voice firm but excited. “SPAGHETTI opener, then Eve Psyche, CRAZY, BOOMPALA teaser, then the rock versions… Remember to watch the water cannon timing. Last thing we need is slipping during ANTIFRAGILE.”

“Got it, captain,” Sakura replied, saluting playfully.

Eunchae was practicing her facial expressions in a small mirror, pouting and smiling, practicing the bright maknae energy she brought to every stage. Her long auburn hair kept falling forward, and she kept tucking it behind her ear, the motion pulling her crop top tighter across her chest.

The university gates came into view, banners for Cheongram Daedongje flapping in the breeze. Students were already crowding the sidewalks, many holding phones up as the familiar LE SSERAFIM van approached.

“Here we go, girls,” Seung-ho announced, voice steady. “Big smiles, stay hydrated, and don’t push too hard during the water part. I’ll be right at the side of the stage the whole time.”

As the van slowed to a stop near the artist entrance, the members began gathering their small bags and mics. The energy shifted from playful van banter to focused performance mode, but the charged atmosphere lingered.

Yunjin was the first to slide the door open, her long legs stepping out first, the white micro shorts and thigh garter catching the sunlight. She turned back and gave Seung-ho a bright grin.

“Thanks for the ride, oppa. Try not to stare too much during the performance, okay?”

Chaewon followed, her pleated skirt swishing as she hopped down. She paused, looking back at him with soft but knowing eyes. “We’ll make you proud today.”

Sakura exited gracefully, her short blonde bob bouncing, the varsity jacket slipping off one shoulder deliberately. Kazuha unfolded her tall frame with ballerina poise, legs seeming to go on forever. Eunchae was last, nearly tripping over her own sneakers in excitement before catching herself on the door.

Seung-ho killed the engine and stepped out, adjusting his manager badge. The spring air felt electric. He watched the five of them walk toward the backstage area — a moving collage of toned midriffs, short skirts, long legs, and youthful confidence wrapped in festival-ready outfits that left very little to the imagination.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.

Just another schedule, he told himself.

But as the distant roar of the university crowd grew louder and the girls turned to wave at him one last time before disappearing behind the stage curtains, Seung-ho already knew today was going to test every ounce of his professionalism.

Backstage at Soongsil University – Cheongram Daedongje Festival

The artist entrance backstage was a controlled whirlwind of noise and organized chaos. Students, staff, and other performers moved through narrow corridors lined with equipment cases and temporary partitions. The distant roar of the massive university crowd pulsed like a living thing, thousands of voices chanting and cheering under the bright May sun.

Manager Kang Seung-ho walked just behind LE SSERAFIM, his tall, broad-shouldered frame cutting through the crowd as he carried two extra water bottles and a small towel bag. His eyes, trained by decades of experience, scanned everything — stage security, cable placements, emergency exits — while inevitably drifting back to the five young women ahead of him.

Yunjin led the group with confident strides, her long legs eating up the distance. The white micro shorts clung to the firm curve of her ass with every step, the light blue thigh garter snapping gently against her smooth skin. Her open navy jersey swayed, flashing the toned lines of her abs and the way her bandeau top hugged her breasts. She turned her head, blonde hair swinging, and flashed him a bright smile.

“Oppa, make sure you stay on the left side of the stage. That’s where the best angle for the water cannons is,” she said with a playful wink, voice carrying that signature husky confidence.