D-Day arrived.
And her agony returned with it.
Backstage at the stadium, three hours before the live performance—chaos.
Staff hustled everywhere. Cables. Light rigs. Sound checks.
The air smelled like sweat, hairspray, and nerves.
Soorin adjusted her kit bag. Fingers clammy.
Every step toward the makeup area felt like marching toward doom.
Daehyun appeared at her side. Quiet as always.
"Rough day?" he asked.
She forced a smile. "You have no idea."
He patted her shoulder lightly. Then disappeared into the sea of crew.
The members of LUMEN arrived soon after. Staff trailing behind them.
Their energy filled the space instantly.
Doyun winked at her with that mischievous grin. "Day two, noona. Still standing?"
Taekyung smirked from behind his phone. "She looks pale. Bet she cries before curtain call."
Minjae stepped in smoothly. Voice gentle. "Don't tease her. She's doing her best." He gave Soorin a small smile—the kind that actually soothed her frayed nerves.
Jisoo bounded up, beaming. "Noona! You came back! I told hyung you wouldn't run away."
Soorin blinked. "You… bet on me running?"
Jisoo giggled, bouncing on his toes. "I said you were tougher than you looked!"
The contrast between them was sharp.
The warmth of Minjae. Jisoo's sunshine energy. Even Doyun and Taekyung's sarcasm felt tolerable.
It only made Haejin's coldness cut deeper.
And then there he was.
Haejin strode in. Black stage outfit hugging his body. Jawline sharp enough to cut glass.
His presence silenced even the loudest crew chatter.
He didn't look at her. Not yet.
But the weight of him pressed against her chest all the same.
The schedule was tight. 20:00 loomed closer.
The stage director barked times. Makeup chairs filled. Brushes moved. Powders puffed. Eyeliners dragged.
Soorin focused on her work.
Jisoo giggled when she dabbed powder on his nose. "Noona, you're my favorite stylist."
Doyun teased her by winking at his own reflection. "Careful. I'm prettier than you."
Minjae thanked her sincerely. Voice low and kind.
Taekyung smirked the whole time. "You're brave for coming back."
Then it was Haejin's turn.
She steadied her hand. Dipped the eyeliner brush.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
His gaze locked on hers in the mirror. Cold. Unblinking.
She drew the line carefully. Silently begging the universe not to betray her.
But fate was cruel.
A sudden bump from a passing stylist jolted her elbow.
The brush dragged. Smudging the perfect black line at the corner of his eye.
Time froze.
Haejin's expression didn't change.
But when he spoke, his voice cracked like a whip.
"Do you even know your job?"
The room fell silent.
Every brush seemed to still. The hum of hair dryers faltered. Chatter cut short.
The faint buzz of fluorescent lights pressed into the silence like a nail into wood.
She held the eyeliner brush midair. Hand trembling just slightly.
Every part of her wanted to snap back. To throw the smudged brush at his perfect face and shout, 'Do it yourself, dragon boy!'
But her chest tightened at the reminder.
The clock ticking down. The show. The crew. The millions of screaming fans waiting out there.
And her work value.
If her pride in her work wasn't on the line, she would've celebrated that smudge like fireworks. Would've tattooed it on his smug face just for satisfaction.
Instead, she forced a deep breath. Dropped her lashes.
"Apologies, HAEL-ssi."
Her tone was soft enough to sound submissive.
But laced with an undertone she couldn't quite hide. Sarcasm crawling between the words.
"If you'd like, I'd be more than happy to fix your perfect face. After all, dragons should always look confident on stage, right?"
Every pair of eyes in the room was on her.
The stylists froze. Brushes suspended midair.
Daehyun looked like he wanted to intervene but wisely kept quiet.
The members of LUMEN each reacted in their own way.
Doyun grinning like he'd just been handed front-row tickets to chaos.
Minjae's brows knitting in sympathy.
Taekyung leaning back with a smirk.
Jisoo wide-eyed—caught between worry and excitement like a kid watching forbidden TV.
Haejin's glare sharpened.
For a terrifying moment, Soorin thought he'd lash out again. Tear her pride apart in front of everyone.
But the PA hurried in. Clapping briskly.
"Ten minutes until stage! Everyone, final checks, hurry!"
Haejin's jaw flexed.
He exhaled sharply through his nose. Gaze still pinned on her.
But he said nothing.
Instead, he leaned back in the chair. Arms crossed.
Soorin's hands shook as she returned to her task.
She steadied her breath. Adjusted her grip.
This time, she finished the line with flawless precision.
The wing sliced cleanly. Symmetrical. Sharp.
It was almost funny—her trembling had given birth to perfection.
She stepped back. Bowed slightly.
"Done."
Haejin didn't thank her. He never did.
He simply turned his head toward the mirror. Examined himself.
Then rose with the kind of elegance that came from someone who believed he was born to rule.
Soorin clenched her fists at her sides. Nails biting into her palms.
'One day, dragon. One day you'll choke on your own fire.'
★★★★★
Soorin peeked out from the side curtain.
The arena was packed. Lightsticks glowing like thousands of fireflies.
Fans held banners. Some crying already. Others screaming so loud their voices cracked.
The energy was overwhelming.
Electric. Alive.
Doyun stretched his shoulders. Flashed her a wink. "Cheer for me, noona. I'll give you a show."
"It's starting to get awkward, RYU-ssi." She countered. "If I can remember correctly, you're a year older than me. How about you don't create a mixup?"
Doyun shook his head. Grinned. "Not a chance, noona."
Minjae chuckled softly. Adjusted his mic. "Don't mind him. Just focus on doing your best out here too."
Taekyung tapped his earpiece. "Let's get this over with."
Jisoo bounced on his toes. Beaming. "Noona! Watch me, okay? I'll make you proud!"
Soorin couldn't help but smile at his childlike energy.
Haejin stood at the center of the lineup. Calm. Collected.
The air around him heavy with charisma.
He didn't look at her. He didn't need to.
His presence swallowed the room whole.
The lights dimmed.
The crowd's chants reached a fever pitch.
The stage director shouted, "Two minutes and dropping! Go!"