The echo of Kang Minji's heels clicking across the polished stage cut through the silence like a gunshot.
Twelve girls stood frozen as the thirteenth—once eliminated, now reinstated—strode confidently beneath the spotlight. Her posture was perfect, chin high, smile sharp as broken glass. The only thing more piercing than her entrance was the message that came with it:
> "One of you is going home. And I'm not."
The host's voice rang out again, too cheery for the storm she'd just unleashed. "Congratulations to Kang Minji, our Wild Card contestant voted back in through special global polling! She'll be competing alongside the Top 12. And with this, your final performance mission begins—your group will now prepare a live stage with only ten debut spots up for grabs."
The room rippled with panic. Ten. Not twelve. Not even eleven. Ten.
Minji smiled as she joined the lineup, taking her place right beside Mirae. Her perfume was strong, sweet—overpowering, like poison masked in roses.
"Hi," she said sweetly. "Long time no see."
Mirae didn't respond.
Not because she was afraid.
But because she knew one wrong word now could spark a war she wasn't ready to fight—yet.
As the host exited, producers swarmed in with clipboards and assignments. "The new unit name is 'PR1SM'—the pre-debut group," one of them explained. "You'll split into three sub-units. The next mission is simple: perform live, gain fan votes, and land in the final ten. The two lowest-ranked girls will be cut."
"And Minji?" someone dared to ask.
"She's not immune," the producer said. "She's just here to take your spot."
--------
In the dorms, the mood had soured into something poisonous.
Tension hung like humidity. Bora paced like a caged animal. Nari hadn't spoken since the stage announcement. Jiyeon sat quietly with her notebook, though her pen had stopped moving twenty minutes ago.
Only Mirae was still.
Still, but burning inside.
Minji's reentry wasn't a twist—it was a declaration. The system, the show, even the public—it wasn't about fairness. It was about entertainment. Drama. Pain. She was a pawn, like all the others. But pawns could still reach the end of the board.
"I'm not letting her win," Mirae said suddenly, her voice breaking the silence.
Jiyeon looked up. "Minji?"
"She's here to cause chaos. If we let her, she'll rip us apart."
"She's already starting," Bora muttered. "You saw the glances backstage. Everyone's calculating. No one's safe."
"Then we focus," Mirae said. "We don't fight each other. We don't waste energy on panic. We fight for those ten spots with everything we've got."
Nari's voice was barely audible. "But what if it's not enough?"
Mirae met her gaze. "Then we make it enough."
-------
The next morning, the sub-unit shuffle began.
Three groups, four girls each.
Mirae, Jiyeon, Minji, and Nari were assigned to Group B.
Mirae's stomach turned at the name pairing.
Minji just smirked.
"Looks like fate ships us together again," she said during the orientation. "You ready to play backup, Mirae?"
Jiyeon stiffened. "She's not backup."
Minji's eyes sparkled. "Of course not. She's the injured underdog. That always makes good TV."
Mirae ignored her and turned to the producer.
"What's our concept?"
He glanced down at his card. "You'll be performing 'Lights Out,' a dark, moody track with layered harmonies and a choreography-heavy chorus. Three minutes long. One center. You'll choose among yourselves."
Of course.
Minji smiled wider.
A trap.
Mirae could already hear it—the whispers, the tension, the inevitable showdown for center.
-------
Back in the practice room, it took less than five minutes for Minji to assert dominance.
She was flawless. Sharp moves. Powerful presence. And worst of all—she knew it.
"I'll take the center," she said casually. "Unless someone thinks they can do it better."
No one responded.
Not yet.
Jiyeon glanced at Mirae, waiting for her to speak.
But Mirae held her tongue.
Let her think she's already won.
Let her gloat.
Mirae knew Minji's type—flashing bright so others dimmed around her. But Mirae wouldn't dim. Not this time.
She'd let the stage decide.
-------
The days leading up to the final live showcase blurred into sweat and muscle memory.
Mirae pushed herself harder than ever, ankle screaming beneath her with every turn, every jump. She didn't complain. She couldn't afford to. Pain was familiar now. Pain was survival.
Minji was everywhere—correcting, mocking, claiming camera time. During vocal training, she purposely sang louder during Mirae's solo. During dance practice, she 'accidentally' blocked Nari twice. But when the cameras were on, she transformed into charm and sweetness, wrapping the staff and the viewers around her little finger.
It was a masterclass in manipulation.
One night, during break, Jiyeon pulled Mirae aside.
"You need to fight for center," she said. "You're the only one who can outshine her."
"I'm not the only one."
"You're the only one who doesn't care about outshining her. That's why it matters more when you do."
Mirae looked at her friend, her sister in arms, and finally nodded. "Tomorrow. During the trial run."
-------
The morning of the dress rehearsal, the stage was cold under Mirae's bare feet.
Producers and judges sat in the shadows, silent and expectant. The other teams had already performed. Now it was their turn.
Group B took their places.
The music started.
Lights out, no mercy—
We dance in the dark, breathe fire like stars—
Mirae moved like a weapon. Controlled. Balanced. Every line clean. Her voice cut through the layers of harmony like silver thread, precise and emotional.
Minji faltered—just once—on a turn, nearly clipping Nari's space.
Mirae saw it. So did the judges.
The final chorus hit.
Instead of letting Minji own the center like in practice, Mirae stepped forward, perfectly timed to the beat drop.
The audience gasped.
She hit the final pose dead center.
The room was silent.
Then, polite applause.
The producers conferred quietly.
After, they approached.
"You've all improved. But for the live broadcast, we're selecting Han Mirae as Center for Group B."
Minji's smile cracked.
Just a little.
Enough.
-------
Back in the dorms, she didn't hide her fury.
"You planned that," she spat at Mirae. "You stole my position."
"It wasn't yours," Mirae said calmly. "You were never entitled to it."
"Oh?" Minji laughed bitterly. "You think this is about fairness? This is about popularity, about control. You're not strong enough to handle the pressure."
"Then I guess tomorrow's the perfect chance to prove you wrong."
-------
The night before the live stage was heavy with tension.
All across the dorms, lights burned late. Girls rehearsed in mirrors. Rechecked fan forums. Some cried. Some prayed. Some practiced until their feet bled.
In Group B's room, Mirae sat cross-legged, eyes closed, earbuds in, replaying the instrumental over and over.
She wasn't afraid anymore.
Not of Minji.
Not of elimination.
Not even of death.
She'd already walked through fire and survived.
Tomorrow, she would dance through it.
-------
The morning came too quickly.
Backstage, the stylists moved like wind, zipping final costumes, adjusting microphones. The audience filled the arena beyond the walls. Live cameras hovered above like watchful predators.
Mirae stood with her team.
Nari looked pale but determined. Jiyeon gave her hand a quick squeeze.
Minji? Radiant. Dangerous.
The producer's voice echoed through the hallway. "Group B, ready in three."
Mirae rolled her shoulders.
No second chances.
No backup plans.
Ten would debut.
Three minutes to prove she belonged.
Then, the curtain lifted—
And the lights went out.