TNG's comeback track "Even Broken Stars Shine" becomes a global anthem.
The music video shows them dancing on shattered mirrors, wearing cracked crystal outfits, singing from atop fallen stages. It's raw. It's honest. It's real.
Fans call it their best era yet.
But behind the scenes, the glow is fading again—this time, from the inside out.
Something is wrong with the world. Again.
A popular idol collapses mid-interview, muttering, "I can't see the light anymore."
Fans begin falling into emotional comas.
Music shows glitch when TNG performs.
Rin's mirror shows it clearly:
> "The demons didn't die.
They just changed the beat."
Sae discovers a new kind of demon: "Fame Phages".
They infect adoration. The more followers, likes, and attention someone receives, the more these demons feed—until their host becomes a lifeless, soulless icon.
Even worse: some people want to be infected for the high.
And one of TNG's producers?
He's already gone.
Luna hasn't spoken in days.
Not since The Null Garden.
Her eyes are still bright, but her mouth doesn't open—not even to sing.
Zaya is worried.
> "Did we leave something behind?" she asks.
Sae runs a scan. Luna didn't leave anything behind...
She brought something back.
Inside Luna's aura is a dormant shard of Shattered Glo's emotion—a piece of pain that latched on like a seed.
And now… it's blooming.
Minji's fire magic begins reacting to sound—louder music now causes explosions instead of dance.
During rehearsal, a small beat drop blows out every light in the room.
> "My power isn't syncing," she mutters. "It's not dancing anymore… it's fighting."
She begs to take a break from performances.
The management says:
> "No breaks. You're hotter than ever."
So, she disappears.
Rin finds her days later in a cave in Busan, hiding with burned-out headphones and scarred hands.
> "I didn't want to hurt anyone else."
But something else is in the cave with her.
Something watching.
They call themselves The Dim.
They're not demons. They're human.
Former fans who believe TNG is the reason the world is breaking.
They wear masks of black-out glitter and throw glowsticks as weapons.
They believe music itself is dangerous and want to silence it—forever.
And their leader?
A former vocal trainee who tried out for TNG… and failed.
Her name is Kira Soeun—and she says:
> "Glo rejected me. So I'll reject the world she saved."
The Dim stages a fake award show in an abandoned concert arena—luring idols, producers, fans, and TNG themselves.
Once everyone's inside, Kira activates a massive fame siphon—a demonic device that drains talent, charm, and light from every star present.
Zaya fights her way through, voice cracking, arms bleeding.
Sae tries to hack the system.
Minji fights fire with fire.
But it's Rin who steps onto the empty stage and sings a song without mirrors.
No makeup. No dancers. Just her.
> "I'm not your fantasy. I'm your fight."
And the spell breaks.
But not before the device transfers its power to Kira—
Who becomes the High Dim: a fusion of human obsession and demonic hunger.
She vanishes.
Luna speaks again.
One word:
> "Hope."
Her voice, once soft and healing, now carries an energy that can slice through shadows.
She hugs Minji and says, "We can't run from our glow. Even if it hurts."
TNG agrees: no more hiding, no more silence.
Backstage at a private showcase, TNG receives a letter written in golden ink.
> "Glo never ended. You just picked up the chorus.
But there's still a verse you haven't heard."
> — The Composer
Enclosed is a song sheet... written in Glo's original handwriting.
A song that's never been sung.
Its title?
"Origin of the End."
>
The golden song, Origin of the End, leads TNG to a frozen land known only in whispers—the Refrain Vault. Buried beneath glaciers and lost time, this hidden place pulses with ancient music. As the girls step inside, the wind around them hums in a harmony older than their group, older than even Glo herself.
Inside are statues—each glowing faintly—of every soul who ever carried the light of Glo. But one pedestal stands broken, empty, its stone crumbled. Carved into its base are words:
"Here sleeps the True Note—the final sound no voice should carry."
Despite warnings etched in every language, the song calls to them. Zaya says it's more than a track—it's memory, sealed in melody. They agree to sing it together, one note each. But as the first harmonies escape their lips, the world around them fractures.
Time unravels.
Each girl is pulled into an alternate timeline—twisted versions of themselves shaped by what could've been if Glo had chosen only one of them.
Zaya becomes the lone savior, burning cities clean of demons but living in silence, her strength isolating her. Rin fades into the mirror realm, so deep into her reflections that she forgets who she really is. Minji becomes a global icon—famous, fiery, and feared—but every concert drains her audience's soul. Sae rewrites the future through logic, emotionless and precise, saving billions but forgetting how to feel. Luna becomes a vessel of pure healing—too kind, too selfless—until her own existence fades completely.
In every version, the glow turns into a burden.
And in every version, they are alone.
But slowly, each of them begins to hear the others. Echoes. Harmony.
Even across broken timelines, their bond calls them back.
Zaya's fists unclench. Rin reaches beyond the mirror. Minji burns down her empty stage. Sae opens her heart. Luna takes her final strength and speaks one word aloud:
"Together."
With that, the fractured timelines collapse inward, and the five girls are pulled back into the real world, standing again in the center of the Refrain Vault—breathless, changed, and whole.
The True Note, once feared, now glows before them.
They don't destroy it.
They sing it.
And when they do, the Vault erupts in light—not destructive, but pure. Cleansing. The past Glo bearers smile from their statues. The pedestal that once was empty now shines, revealing a sixth statue: the future Glo.
But her face is blurred.
Luna steps forward and says quietly, "It's not one of us."
Minji nods. "It's all of us."
And the others agree: TNG wasn't created to replace Glo… they were meant to redefine her.
The moment they leave the Vault, the world feels different.
Quieter.
But before they can rest, a new message appears on their mirror table, written in glowing red ink:
"You finished the song. But now the Composer wants the final performance."