What was hidden becomes known. The arrangement stops being a secret and starts becoming something the group has to reckon with.
Your phone alarm went off at 5:30 AM, dragging you from sleep into the pre-dawn darkness. Outside your window, snow was falling softly, coating Seoul in white.
For a moment, you considered ignoring it, burrowing back under the warm covers. Then you remembered: Hyeju. Hometown. Christmas with her family.
You dragged yourself out of bed and into the shower, still riding the residual high from last week’s announcement. The company had postponed the album. After weeks of Orbit protests and mounting pressure, they’d finally backed down on December 22nd.
It wasn’t freedom. Not yet. But it was a small victory.
By the time you pulled up to Hyeju’s apartment building at exactly 6 AM, you were awake enough to function. The streets were quiet, snow still falling, Christmas lights twinkling from storefronts not yet open.
Hyeju was waiting in the lobby, a small overnight bag slung over her shoulder. She was dressed for winter—black coat, jeans, boots, a knit beanie pulled low. Her breath fogged in the cold air when she stepped outside.
She climbed into the passenger seat with a small smile.
“Morning, Oppa.”
“Morning. Ready?”
“Yeah.” She settled into her seat, pulling the seatbelt across as you cranked the heat. “Thanks for doing this.”
You pulled out of the parking garage and onto the snowy Seoul streets. The city was just beginning to wake up, the sky lightening from black to deep blue, snowflakes dancing in your headlights.
“Your family will be happy to see you.”
“They are. Especially now.” She looked out at the snowy landscape. “Three days ago I was dreading telling them we’d have to promote without Chuu. Now I don’t have to.”
For the first hour, you drove in comfortable silence. Hyeju seemed content to watch the city give way to suburbs, then to countryside, everything blanketed in white. Christmas decorations dotted houses and shops along the highway.
The sun was fully up, weak winter light filtering through clouds, when she finally spoke.
“Oppa, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
She was quiet for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “Some of the girls are acting different lately. Still positive, despite everything with the lawsuit.”
Your hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Positive how?”
“Just… happier. More relaxed.” She glanced at you. “And some have been spending more time with you. Individually.”
Your stomach dropped. “Hyeju—”
“I’m not judging.” Her voice was measured, calm. “I’m not going to tell anyone or cause problems. I’m just… curious.”
You didn’t know what to say. Denying it felt pointless—she clearly already knew, or suspected enough that denial would be obvious.
“What do you want to know?” you asked carefully.
“Is it true? Have you been… with some of them?”
A long pause. Snow continued to fall outside, the wipers clearing it rhythmically. Then: “Yes.”
She nodded slowly. “I thought so. The way Chuu looks at you now. How Heejin acts when you’re around.” She turned in her seat slightly. “How many?”
“Hyeju—”
“I’m not going to judge or tell anyone. I promise. I just want to know.”
You kept your eyes on the snowy road. “A few of them…”
“Okay.” She was quiet again. “And they… wanted it? You sure you’re not taking advantage of them?”
“No. God, no. They initiated. Every time.” You glanced at her. “I know how it looks. But I’m not—I would never—”
“I believe you.” Her voice was soft. “I know you. You’re not like that.”
Some of the tension left your shoulders. You drove in silence for a few more minutes, snow accumulating on the sides of the highway.
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s it like?” She paused. “I mean… I’ve never had sex with a guy. I don’t really know anything about it. Not practically.”
You glanced at her. “You’ve never…?”
“No. I’ve been too busy. I’ve been training and working since I was so young.” She looked out the window. “It never seemed important. But everyone talks about it like it’s this huge thing and I don’t understand what I’m missing.”
You didn’t know what to say to that.
“Is it really that good?” she asked quietly. “What you do with them?”
“I… yes—I guess…”
“I want to understand. But it’s hard when I don’t have any experience.” She was still looking out the window. “I’ve read mangas about it. Watched clips online. But that’s not the same as actually doing it with someone.”
“No, it’s not.”
She was quiet for a while. “Do you think I’m weird? For not knowing?”
“No. Everyone goes at their own pace.”
She didn’t respond, just went back to watching the snowy landscape pass by.
The rest of the drive passed with lighter conversation. She told you about the postponed album, how relieved everyone was. About how her fans had rallied for them.
“It feels like we actually have power for once,” she said quietly.
“You were never helpless. You’ve been fighting this whole time, and that resonated with your fans.”
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