Lia woke before the dorm alarm.
Not because she was excited.
Because she always did.
The room was still dark, the air cool with early-morning quiet. The others were asleep—Minji sprawled dramatically across her bed, Reiko turned neatly toward the wall, Soojin half-covered by her blanket like she might wake up ready to fight someone, and Mina sleeping lightly, already composed even in rest.
Lia sat up slowly.
Ari stirred in her crib.
Lia was there instantly, lifting her before the baby could make a sound. She pressed her cheek briefly to Ari's hair—one second, no more—then checked the time on her phone.
5:12 a.m.
Enough.
She dressed quickly. Black training pants. A plain hoodie. Hair pulled back tight. No accessories. No softness. When she looked in the mirror, the girl staring back at her didn't look thirteen.
She looked prepared.
By the time Mina emerged, tying her own hair back, Lia was already packing her bag.
Mina paused, watching her.
"You don't have to rush," she said quietly.
Lia glanced up. "I don't rush."
Mina nodded once. She understood.
---
The training building smelled like disinfectant and ambition.
Mirrors stretched endlessly across white walls. Trainees filled the space—stretching, whispering, warming up. When Lia walked in, the sound didn't stop.
It shifted.
Eyes followed the stroller. Then the girl pushing it.
Whispers threaded the air.
"She's tiny."
"That's the baby?"
"She's a trainee?"
"Is that even allowed?"
Lia understood enough Korean to catch the shape of the words. Not all of them. But enough.
Good.
Let them talk.
Manager Jieun handed Ari over gently to a staff member waiting nearby. "She'll be in the care room," she said. "You can check in during breaks."
Let them talk.
Manager Jieun handed Ari over gently to a staff member waiting nearby. "She'll be in the care room," she said. "You can check in during breaks"
Lia bowed. "Thank you."
Her accent was noticeable. Her tone wasn't.
They stepped onto the main floor.
A man with a whistle around his neck turned. His gaze flicked over Lia—head to toe—then lingered a second too long.
"This one?" he asked.
"Yes," Jieun replied evenly. "Lia. New trainee."
He didn't bother lowering his voice.
"She's young."
Lia met his eyes.
"I can train," she said in Korean. Short. Clear.
A pause.
The trainer raised a brow. "You speak?"
"A little," Lia answered. "Enough."
A few trainees snickered.
The trainer studied her, then looked away. "Warm up. Don't fall behind."
No welcome. No kindness.
Perfect.
---
Training was brutal.
No easing in. No allowances.
Stretching that burned. Cardio that shredded lungs. Drills repeated until legs trembled. Lia followed everything she understood and watched carefully when she didn't.
She learned fast.
Too fast.
Her body moved like it had something to prove. Like stopping wasn't an option.
The trainer noticed.
"You," he snapped. "Pace yourself."
Lia didn't stop. She adjusted. Sharper. Cleaner.
"You don't get special treatment here," he added.
Lia didn't look at him. "I didn't ask for it."
That earned her a long stare.
Mina caught it from across the room.
She stepped closer—not to block Lia, not to shield her.
Just close enough to speak.
"She's used to discipline," Mina said calmly. "If she breaks, that's on her."
The trainer exhaled sharply. "She's on probation."
Lia bowed once. "That's enough."
---
By the time they were dismissed, Lia's hands were shaking.
She didn't notice until she was alone in the locker room.
She sat on the bench, elbows on knees, breathing slow and controlled. Pain radiated through her muscles, sharp and insistent. She welcomed it.
Pain meant progress.
She checked the time.
Then she stood.
No one saw her lean briefly against the wall. No one saw her close her eyes for exactly three seconds.
She straightened.
I don't need mercy, she thought.
I need time.
And time, she would take.