I rushed through the door at 7:58 PM.
Chest tight, still half-processing whatever the hell had just happened in my room.
Sejin glanced up from his seat.
Woobin gave me a once-over, clearly noticing I'd arrived flustered.
Trainer Song sat at the piano bench, a neat stack of scores beside him.
No cameras. No orchestra. No production staff hovering with clipboards.
Just eight chairs arranged in a circle.
My stomach dropped.
This felt like a trap.
"Take a seat, Jiwon."
I slipped into the seat between Yuhyun and Sunwoo.
Yuhyun caught my eye, barely suppressed concern flickering across his face.
Trainer Song folded his hands.
"Everyone completed their assignment?"
Murmurs of agreement.
I had.
Sort of.
Multiple pages of technical corrections, breathing adjustments, phrasing tweaks.
All meticulously catalogued.
"Good. We'll start with individual weaknesses. One thing you can improve for the group." Song's gaze swept the circle.
"Han Jiwon. Your answer?"
