Chapter 1 - Quiet Confessions Between Chaos
The house smelled incredible something rich and savory, simmering with spice and warmth. Steam curled from a large pot on the stove, filling the air with the scent of slow-cooked broth and corn. Luly stood in the kitchen wearing a white fitted crop top, black cargo pants, and slippers, her hair tied up in a messy bun.
The front door opened suddenly, followed by laughter and the sound of sneakers hitting marble.
Dongmin’s voice rang first, loud and cheerful. “Surprise!”
She turned, blinking at the sight of all seven boys crowding the doorway. Taeyul carried a strawberry cake, Minjae balanced a stack of paper plates, and Jisung already looked like he regretted agreeing to come.
Luly raised an eyebrow. “You guys are really bad at sneaking.”
Eunwoo grinned. “We weren’t trying to sneak. We were trying to surprise you.”
Haesoo stepped forward last, quieter, holding a small lighter. “Happy birthday,” he said softly.
Her expression softened for a second before she turned back to the stove. “Thanks. You’re all just in time.”
Dongmin leaned forward, sniffing the air. “Whoa, what is that smell? It’s amazing.”
Luly smiled faintly. “Pozole.”
The room went still for a second.
Jisung tilted his head. “…What’s a pozole?”
Luly turned around, wooden spoon in hand, amused. “It’s a Mexican soup. You eat it on special days. It has hominy, pork, peppers, lime basically heaven in a bowl.”
Dongmin’s eyes widened. “You made all that? From scratch?”
She nodded. “Started this morning.”
Taeyul squinted at the pot. “Wait, it’s soup?”
Luly looked mildly offended. “It’s not just soup. It’s” she paused, searching for the word. “It’s home. You’ll see.”
Haesoo leaned closer to the pot, curious. “So it’s spicy?”
She grinned. “A little. You’ll survive.”
Eunwoo laughed. “You sound confident.”
“I should be,” she said. “It’s impossible to mess up. And if I did, you’re too polite to say anything anyway.”
Minjae chuckled. “She’s not wrong.”
Dongmin looked genuinely excited now. “Can I try some?”
Luly tapped his wrist lightly with the spoon. “Not until I say so. You’ll ruin the broth.”
Haesoo leaned beside her on the counter, voice quieter. “You really cooked all this?”
“Yeah,” she said, stirring the pot again. “It’s my birthday. I wanted to eat something that tastes like where I came from.”
He smiled softly. “Then it’s perfect.”
Her eyes flicked toward him, a small grin tugging at her lips. “You don’t even know what it tastes like yet.”
“I don’t need to,” he said. “If you made it, it’s good.”
Dongmin groaned dramatically. “He’s in deep already.”
Luly rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re just jealous you can’t handle spice.”
“I can!” he protested. “I survived tteokbokki level three once!”
Taeyul snorted. “Barely.”
Minjae stepped in, raising the cake box. “Before Dongmin starts crying, can we at least sing?”
The boys gathered around the island, lighting candles while Luly turned off the stove. The flicker of flame reflected against the stainless steel, the smell of pozole still wrapping the room in warmth.
Haesoo met her eyes across the counter calm, proud, quietly in love.
She smiled at him, soft and sure. “All right. But after this, you’re all trying pozole.”
Dongmin cheered. “Deal!”
Jisung muttered, “If it kills me, I’m haunting you.”
Luly laughed, shaking her head. “You’ll live. Probably.”
Haesoo leaned close enough for only her to hear. “You really can’t help taking care of everyone, can you?”
She smirked, turning the spoon in her hand. “Someone has to.”
And as the boys started to sing off-key and too loud she looked around her kitchen, at the chaos, the warmth, the laughter, and Haesoo smiling at her through it all. For the first time in a long time, it felt like home.
As soon as the last note of their off-key birthday song faded, Luly leaned forward and blew out the candles. The room filled with clapping and laughter; Dongmin, grinning as usual, couldn’t hold his tongue.
“So, Luly” he said, stretching the words for effect, “now you and Haesoo are dating, right?”
The room froze.
Jisung nearly choked on his soda. Minjae muttered, “Here we go,” while Taeyul slapped a hand to his face. Eunwoo just sighed like he’d seen it coming.
Luly blinked, still holding the cake knife mid-air. “Wow,” she said finally. “Straight to dessert and interrogation.”
Dongmin looked around, wide-eyed but unapologetic. “What? Everyone’s been wondering! He was glowing at rehearsal. It was suspicious.”
Haesoo cleared his throat, the corners of his mouth fighting a smile. “You’re unbelievable.”
Eunwoo smirked. “So that’s a yes?”
Luly set the knife down and crossed her arms. “If you’re all going to gossip, at least get the story right.”
That only made them lean closer.
Jisung asked, trying not to laugh, “So… is that confirmation or denial?”
Haesoo met Luly’s eyes across the counter; the faintest grin passed between them. “Confirmation,” he said simply.
The room erupted.
Dongmin whooped, nearly knocking over the cake box. “I knew it!”
Taeyul groaned, “Finally! Do you know how exhausting it was watching you two pretend?”
Minjae shook his head with a small smile. “I give it a week before the tabloids find out.”
Luly tried to look annoyed, but the color rising in her cheeks betrayed her. “You’re all ridiculous.”
Haesoo leaned close enough for only her to hear. “Told you they’d find out.”
She whispered back, dryly, “You told me not to tell them.”
He smiled. “Didn’t have to. Dongmin exists.”
Dongmin pointed between them, triumphant. “See? I’m essential to this friend group.”
Eunwoo laughed. “You’re chaos, that’s what you are.”
Jisung lifted his phone like he was taking mental notes. “This day goes down in history.”
Luly rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “If you post anything, I’ll put chili powder in your coffee.”
Haesoo chuckled. “She’s serious.”
Taeyul sighed, grabbing plates. “All right, everyone relax before we destroy her kitchen. Let’s eat before the pozole gets cold.”
As the boys shuffled around for bowls and spoons, Dongmin whispered to Haesoo with a grin, “Man, you really did it. You got her to say yes.”
Haesoo’s voice was low, certain. “Yeah,” he said, glancing at Luly across the room as she served soup with that faint, unguarded smile. “And I’m not planning to lose her now.”
Luly began ladling the steaming pozole into bowls, the broth rich and red under the kitchen lights. The boys were still laughing, filling cups, passing napkins around the island when the front door opened again.
Heavy footsteps crossed the hall, measured and calm.
“Right on time,” Luly said without even looking up, a small smile curving her lips. “Sit, Jin.”
Jin dressed in black as always, composed even in chaos stepped into the kitchen. “You’re feeding everyone again?”
“I’m feeding you,” she corrected, already setting a bowl in front of him. She sprinkled chopped onions, shredded lettuce, and oregano across the top, then slid over a plate with lime wedges. “There. The boss special.”
Dongmin blinked, whispering to Jisung, “She’s scarier when she’s nice.”
Jisung muttered back, “Don’t make eye contact. You’ll end up doing dishes.”
Haesoo bit back a laugh, watching quietly as Luly leaned against Jin’s shoulder, her arms resting there casually the kind of comfort only years of trust could buy.
She smiled, voice light but teasing. “Take it as a celebration meal. Another year with me you made it out alive.”
Jin gave her a small, tired grin. “Barely.” He lifted the spoon, tasting the broth. “This is… surprisingly good.”
Luly gasped dramatically. “Surprisingly?”
“I mean,” he said, smirking now, “considering you once burned instant ramen, this is an improvement.”
The room burst into laughter.
Eunwoo shook his head. “She’s gonna kill him for that one.”
“Maybe after dessert,” Taeyul said, grinning.
Luly crossed her arms, feigning offense. “First of all, that was years ago. Second, that stove was defective.”
Dongmin chimed in, “Sure it was.”
Haesoo hid a smile behind his cup, murmuring, “Careful, guys. She’s got a spoon, and she knows how to use it.”
She pointed it at him playfully. “Don’t test me, Jeon.”
Jin just kept eating, completely unbothered by the noise. “I brought an update,” he said between bites. “Security dropped off all the gifts your fans sent. We have three SUVs filled with boxes. Cards, flowers, one cake that looks questionable.”
Luly groaned softly, rubbing her temple. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” he said. “They’re unloading now.”
She sighed, then smiled again, nudging his shoulder. “Then eat up. You’ll need strength to carry my fame.”
Dongmin nearly choked laughing. “She’s unbelievable.”
Jin smiled faintly, eyes softening. “She’s right, though.”
Haesoo watched her from across the counter the way she teased, commanded, and cared in the same breath and for a moment, he forgot everyone else was there.
Minjae’s voice snapped him out of it. “Haesoo, pass the lime.”
He blinked, reaching automatically. “Yeah.”
Jisung leaned toward Dongmin, whispering, “He’s gone. Completely gone.”
Dongmin nodded solemnly. “Lost to the pozole queen.”
Luly turned toward them, brow raised. “I can hear you.”
They froze.
“…and we’re grateful,” Dongmin added quickly. “Very grateful.”
Luly smirked, setting another bowl on the table. “Good answer.”
Jin chuckled quietly, finishing his soup. “Happy birthday, kid.”
She smiled at him, warm and genuine. “Thanks, Jin. Now eat more it’s rare you’re not lecturing me.”
He looked amused. “I’m saving it for tomorrow.”
Luly laughed, shaking her head as the room filled again with conversation, bowls clinking, and the soft hum of music in the background. The tension of the morning was gone. Everything about this moment the laughter, the scent of food, Haesoo’s quiet smile across the room felt like a promise she hadn’t realized she’d been waiting to keep.
Taeyul leaned back in his chair, mischief glinting in his eyes as he swallowed a mouthful of pozole. “So, Jin,” he said casually, “did you hear your boss is dating Haesoo now?”
The entire table went quiet for a second. Haesoo froze mid-bite, his spoon still in the bowl. Luly’s hand paused over the pot, the ladle dripping broth back into the steam.
Jin didn’t even blink. He looked between them once, then calmly set his spoon down. “Really?” he said, the faintest curve of a smile appearing. “Took him five years. Persistence pays off, I guess.”
Dongmin nearly spat out his drink. “Wait, you knew?”
“I didn’t have to know,” Jin replied, tone dry but amused. “Anyone with eyes knew.”
Luly groaned, leaning one hand on the counter. “Unbelievable. You’re all conspiring against me.”
Haesoo rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to smile. “I wasn’t exactly subtle.”
Taeyul grinned. “Understatement of the century.”
Eunwoo raised his cup. “Five years. That’s a record. We should toast to that.”
Jisung added, deadpan, “I’d toast to the fact she finally said yes. Miracles are real.”
Luly shot him a look. “Careful, Jisung. I control your vocal mix.”
He held up both hands immediately. “Love wins!”
Jin chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “Don’t let them get to you,” he said to Luly. “They’re just shocked someone survived your vetting process.”
She smirked, leaning back against the counter. “He passed the stress test.”
Haesoo laughed softly. “Barely.”
“Exactly,” she said, smiling at him now.
Dongmin pointed at Jin. “You sound way too calm about this, hyung.”
Jin shrugged, taking another bite. “I’m just relieved. Maybe now she’ll stop threatening to fire me every time she’s stressed.”
Luly tilted her head innocently. “No promises.”
Everyone burst into laughter again, the teasing fading into easy warmth. Jin looked between the two of them Luly glowing in the kitchen light, Haesoo watching her like he couldn’t help it and for the first time in years, he actually smiled.
“About time,” he said quietly, mostly to himself, before going back to his soup.
When everyone finished eating, the guards came back carrying towers of gift boxes and paper bags tied neatly with ribbons. The members turned toward the doorway in disbelief as three carts rolled in behind them, stacked high with pastel packages and flower arrangements.
Dongmin’s mouth dropped open. “You weren’t kidding, Jin. That’s an avalanche.”
Jisung blinked. “Are those all from fans?”
Luly sat cross-legged on the floor near the coffee table, completely calm. “Yeah,” she said simply. “They start sending them a week before my birthday.”
Security began unloading the gifts, arranging them in neat piles around her. The boys stared like it was a scene out of a movie—boxes of perfume, plush toys, notebooks, sneakers, handwritten letters sealed with wax.
Eunwoo whistled under his breath. “That’s a lot of love.”
Luly smiled faintly. “It’s a lot of trust,” she corrected softly.
Dongmin crouched near the nearest box and peeked inside. “Whoa. Someone sent you a full camera set.”
Taeyul picked up another, reading the note attached. “This one says, ‘Wear this on stage so we know you saw us.’” He turned to her. “You keep everything?”
Luly nodded, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yeah. Fans get happy when they see me using what they send.”
Minjae looked surprised. “You actually do that?”
“Of course,” she said, opening a small envelope and reading it quietly before setting it aside. “It’s a way of saying I saw them too.”
Jisung lifted a soft hoodie from another box, still folded perfectly. “This probably costs a fortune.”
Luly smirked. “Then fold it back nicely. I’ll wear it in a vlog later.”
Dongmin laughed, shaking his head. “You’ve got this down to a science.”
“Not science,” she said, her tone lighter now. “Just gratitude management.”
Taeyul grinned. “That’s the most Luly phrase I’ve ever heard.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was warmth there. “Well, it works.”
From the kitchen, Jin’s voice drifted in. “And fills half the storage room.”
The boys burst out laughing as Luly called back, “That’s why we have a basement, Jin!”
Haesoo had been sitting quietly on the edge of the couch, watching her. She didn’t touch the gifts much, just smiled while the others opened boxes and reacted to every letter. She looked at peace in the middle of the chaos—soft, amused, grounded.
Eunwoo leaned toward her slightly. “You ever get tired of all this?”
Luly looked around the sea of opened packages, thought for a moment, then said, “No. It’s not the things that matter. It’s the reminder that people cared enough to send them.”
For a moment, the room was still.
Then Dongmin grinned, lifting up a box wrapped in silver paper. “This one says ‘for your smile.’ I call dibs if it’s food.”
“Open it,” she said, resting her chin on her palm.
He tore through the wrapping, revealing a tin of handmade cookies. “It is food!”
Luly laughed. “See? Manifestation.”
The boys cheered, and the noise filled the room again—laughter, paper tearing, Jin sighing in the background as security tried to organize the growing mountain of discarded ribbons.
And in the middle of it all, Luly just sat there, smiling quietly, her gaze flicking to Haesoo once. The room was alive and loud, but her eyes found his easily. He smiled back, and she returned it just a small one, the kind that said I see you too.
Minjae leaned back on the couch, unwrapping another fan letter with a grin. “You should really thank your fans properly. The whole city’s full of birthday billboards for you. I saw one near the river that lights up with your face every five minutes.”
Luly looked up from her phone, smirking. “I did thank them.”
Dongmin squinted. “When?”
“This morning,” she said, tapping her phone screen. “I dropped a music video.”
Haesoo looked over immediately. “You dropped it without telling anyone?”
She smiled faintly. “It’s called Twenty-One. I figured it’s the best way to say thank you.”
Eunwoo leaned forward. “You released it today? On your birthday?”
“Perfect timing,” she said, picking up the remote and turning on the TV. “You might as well watch it here before the internet explodes.”
The TV lit up, and the room quieted.
The opening shot appeared—her bedroom filled with morning light, silk sheets, scattered jewelry, a half-eaten piece of birthday cake. The bass pulsed in sync with a faint heartbeat. Luly sat up in bed, messy hair falling around her face, wearing an oversized white shirt. She looked into the mirror and whispered, “It’s my day.”
Dongmin immediately burst out laughing. “She actually said it!”
Taeyul grinned. “No hesitation. That’s Luly.”
Haesoo smiled quietly, eyes fixed on her reflection.
Then the first verse began.
“Woke up shining like a headline dream
Lip gloss, sunlight, too bright to dim
New heels on the marble floor
Who’s that girl? Oh right—she’s mine, for sure.”
Eunwoo blinked. “You made brushing your hair sound like a movie trailer.”
Luly grinned. “I do everything dramatically. It’s genetic.”
The camera followed her as she walked barefoot through the marble hallway, brushing her hair in rhythm, pouring sparkling water like champagne. Every movement was precise, rhythmic, almost hypnotic.
Haesoo’s voice was low. “You look like you own time.”
She chuckled. “That was kind of the point.”
The screen cut to the elevator scene. Chrome walls reflected her from every angle, the lighting changing from soft gold to pink and purple. She pulled off the pajama shirt to reveal a shimmering silver bralette and wide-leg trousers. As the elevator rose, the floors flashed 15, 17, 19, 20—then stopped at 21.
“My phone’s on fire, but I’m offline
You can see me glow through the city skyline
Every step’s another spark I own
If it’s my world, I’m the throne.”
Taeyul pointed at the screen. “That line. That’s—wow.”
Dongmin grinned. “The whole age elevator thing? Brilliant.”
Haesoo didn’t say a word, just smiled faintly.
Then the rooftop scene burst to life. Confetti exploded behind her, fireworks painting the Seoul skyline as she danced in a black leather skirt and metallic corset. The choreography hit perfectly with the chorus.
“It’s my birthday, no permission needed
Every eye’s on me, yeah, I can feel it
Turn the lights up, make it cinematic
Every heartbeat, automatic.”
Eunwoo laughed in disbelief. “This looks like a global campaign, not a birthday post.”
Minjae said, “You’re basically celebrating yourself and the rest of us are just extras.”
“Exactly,” she said proudly.
Haesoo smiled. “You look like you’re glowing.”
“Good,” she teased. “It’s highlighter and delusion.”
The scene shifted again—her penthouse, now transformed into a private party. Balloons shaped like 21 hung above her as she grabbed a cupcake mid-verse and bit into it while laughing.
“Lipstick stained on my strawberry glass
Got dreams that hit and never pass
Turn the volume up, don’t hold back
Every ‘no’ I got just made my track.”
Dongmin pointed at the screen. “That’s your actual living room!”
“Was,” she said with a grin. “Now it’s confetti storage.”
Taeyul laughed. “You turned your own house into a set again, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “Budget management. I’m practical.”
The tempo slowed, fading into a mirrored room lit by candles. Dozens of reflections of her appeared—teenage Luly in uniform, stage Luly, tired Luly, confident Luly—all fading as she stepped forward barefoot, her voice soft and sure.
“Gold on my wrist, heat in my tone
Every crown fits when you build your own.”
Silence filled the room.
Jisung muttered, “That line’s gonna be quoted for months.”
Eunwoo nodded slowly. “That line’s Luly in one sentence.”
Haesoo’s gaze lingered on the screen longer than anyone’s.
The final rooftop scene returned. Fireworks roared behind her, her new outfit glowing with crystal light. She smiled into the camera, her voice bright and alive.
“It’s my birthday, come celebrate it
Every scar I’ve got, I decorated
Pop the confetti, break tradition
Sweet like trouble, pure ambition.”
Dongmin threw his hands up. “You really ended your song by wishing yourself happy birthday!”
Luly smirked. “Who else was gonna do it right?”
The video ended with her standing alone, hair catching the wind as she whispered, “Twenty-one, and I’m just getting started.” The screen faded to black.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Eunwoo exhaled first. “That wasn’t just a thank-you. That was a power move.”
Minjae laughed. “You released that, cooked for us, hosted your birthday, and still look perfect. Do you even rest?”
Luly tilted her head, amused. “Not on my day.”
Haesoo’s voice came out quiet, thoughtful. “You didn’t just thank them. You reminded everyone who you are.”
She looked at him, a faint smile playing at her lips. “Maybe that’s the best gift I could’ve given them.”
Dongmin clutched his chest dramatically. “And there it is, the emotional quote of the night.”
The room filled with laughter, but Haesoo didn’t join in. He just kept watching her, the glow from the paused screen reflecting in his eyes, thinking that no lyric in the song had been more honest than the one that said, “Happy birthday to the girl I made.”
Luly leaned back against the counter, wiping her hands after serving the last plate. The smell of food still hung in the air, warm and rich, laughter fading into a lull as she spoke casually, “I’m leaving tonight to California. Jaehyun wants to celebrate my birthday.”
The words dropped like a small stone in water. The ripples were instant.
Dongmin froze mid-bite, his spoon halfway to his mouth. “You’re flying out tonight?”
She nodded, tone even, wiping a bit of sauce from her wrist with a napkin. “Yeah. He’s been planning something since last week.”
Taeyul leaned back in his chair, smirking faintly. “Of course he has.” His eyes flicked toward Haesoo. “That man moves fast.”
Haesoo didn’t say anything. He just stared at his plate, fingers tightening around his fork. The room seemed to tilt slightly in his silence.
Luly turned her gaze to Minjae, completely composed. “How are rehearsals going for the world tour?”
He straightened immediately, professional instinct kicking in. “Good. We’re finalizing set transitions and lighting cues this week. Stamina training starts tomorrow.”
“Good,” Luly said. She poured herself a glass of water, her tone firm but unhurried. “I’m taking my jet. Is SOL7 able to take off a couple of days to go to California?”
The table went quiet again. Dongmin looked at Taeyul, who raised an eyebrow as if to ask is she serious?
Minjae blinked. “You mean… the whole team?”
Luly nodded. “You’re one month away from the world tour. You’re the leader, make the call.”
Haesoo finally looked up, his eyes meeting Minjae’s, silent but weighted. It wasn’t a plea. It was trust or maybe a warning.
Minjae hesitated for a moment, then exhaled. “If it’s only a few days, we can adjust the schedule. I’ll clear it with the company.”
“Good.” Luly smiled faintly, satisfied. “Then it’s settled.”
Dongmin leaned back, laughing under his breath. “You really just decided to fly us to another country mid-dinner.”
Luly shrugged lightly, sipping her water. “You all looked like you needed sun. And I like celebrating with people who work hard for me.”
Taeyul grinned. “So, we’re not just your employees anymore, huh?”
“You were never just that,” she said simply.
Eunwoo leaned forward, chin resting on his hand. “Will Jaehyun mind us crashing his celebration?”
“He’ll survive,” Luly said, her tone calm, almost teasing. “He likes me in good company.”
Haesoo’s jaw flexed slightly at that, eyes flickering away.
Minjae cleared his throat, trying to mask a smile. “I’ll handle the logistics. What time should we be ready?”
Luly looked at him over her glass, her voice soft but decisive. “By nine. Don’t be late. The jet doesn’t wait for anyone not even SOL7.”
Dongmin laughed. “Guess we’re going to California.”
Taeyul smirked, nudging Haesoo lightly. “You ready for that, lover boy?”
Haesoo’s eyes stayed on his glass, his voice even. “Always.”
Luly caught the edge in his tone quiet, measured and smiled to herself as she set her drink down. “Good,” she said. “Then pack light.”
Luly set her glass down with a soft clink against the counter, her tone returning to that composed, effortless authority that made everyone move without question. “Go pack, boys,” she said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I’ll finish cleaning up. The jet leaves exactly at nine p.m. You’ve got two hours.”
Dongmin blinked, mid-laugh. “Wait, you’re serious?”
She gave him a look that said she was always serious. “I don’t joke about departure times. Security will pick you up from the dorm.”
Taeyul groaned playfully, already standing and stretching. “She really said run.”
Eunwoo pushed his chair back, shaking his head with a grin. “Only Luly turns dinner into an international trip.”
Minjae rose next, calm but quick, leadership already in motion. “Alright, everyone, grab what you need. Two hours means two hours.”
Jisung muttered under his breath as he collected his phone. “I barely finished unpacking from Busan…”
Luly was wiping down the counter, sleeves rolled up, her movements precise and unbothered. “You’ll survive. There’s a laundry service on the jet.”
Dongmin froze halfway to the door. “There’s a laundry service on your plane?”
She gave a light shrug, not even looking up. “Of course. I don’t like wrinkles.”
Taeyul whistled low, amusement flickering across his face. “Rich people logic. Got it.”
Haesoo stayed seated for a moment longer than the others, eyes on her. He wanted to say something maybe a protest, maybe a question but she didn’t glance his way.
She was rinsing the dishes now, the sound of running water filling the quiet. “Haesoo,” she said finally, voice soft but firm, “go pack.”
He stood, slowly. “You’ll clean all this alone?”
She looked over her shoulder, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. “I’m not made of glass. Go.”
He hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. “Okay.”
As the members filed out, their chatter echoing down the hall “California, baby!” from Dongmin, “I’m packing sunscreen!” from Eunwoo, and Taeyul laughing about “celebrating Luly-style” she stayed behind, calmly stacking plates, unbothered by the chaos she’d just set in motion.
Two hours.
Nine p.m. sharp.
And in that quiet kitchen light, she smiled to herself the kind of smile that meant she was already thinking several steps ahead.
The black SUVs rolled to a smooth stop along the edge of the private tarmac. A cold wind brushed past as the members of SOL7 stepped out, their sneakers hitting the concrete with a mix of awe and disbelief.
The jet stood waiting under the floodlights, gleaming silver and pearl-white, the name REYES faintly embossed near the tail. The air shimmered with the low hum of power.
Dongmin gawked first. “No way… that’s hers?”
Taeyul whistled low. “She said private jet, not a luxury hotel with wings.”
Eunwoo nudged Jisung, half-smiling. “I bet there’s marble inside.”
Minjae, ever the calm one, said, “Don’t touch anything unless it says seat belt.”
They climbed aboard after security cleared them. The moment the door sealed behind them, sound faded — the air smelled faintly of vanilla and citrus, the light dimmed to a soft golden tone.
The cabin stretched wider than any of them expected: six large white leather seats facing each other in a lounge-style layout, gold fixtures glinting under the lights, polished tables between each row. A long row of windows cast reflections of the runway outside.
Dongmin sat immediately, bouncing a little. “These seats move! They recline automatically.”
Taeyul pressed a button until his did the same. “This is ridiculous. I could live here.”
Jisung opened one of the small cabinets. “Snacks. Real snacks. She travels like a queen.”
Even Minjae had to smile. “Don’t break anything. It probably costs more than our dorm.”
The engine began to hum softly beneath them, and just then the door opened again.
Luly entered with Jin and two security guards behind her.
Her look was simple — a black T-shirt with a white cat printed across the front, gray sweats sitting low on her hips, white sneakers, hair loose and wavy. She looked comfortable, effortless, completely in her element.
The conversation died instantly.
Taeyul recovered first, grinning. “You look like you’re ready to nap through turbulence.”
Luly smiled faintly as she walked down the narrow aisle toward the back row. “That’s the plan.”
Dongmin leaned toward Jisung and whispered, “Even her pajamas are designer energy.”
She passed each of them with a quiet nod, the faint scent of strawberries following her, and slid into the back row by the window.
Haesoo watched her the entire way, his expression softening without him realizing. When she finally sat down, he rose from his seat.
Minjae caught it right away. “Where are you going?”
Haesoo’s reply was simple. “To sit with my girlfriend.”
The table went silent for a second, then Dongmin burst into a grin. “Say it louder for the people in the back.”
Jisung rolled his eyes but smiled. “We are the people in the back.”
Ignoring the teasing, Haesoo made his way down the aisle. Luly looked up as he approached, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.
“You’re sitting here?” she asked, her tone calm but warm.
He nodded, sliding into the seat beside her. “If there’s space, yeah.”
She smirked faintly. “You could’ve just asked.”
“I didn’t think I needed to anymore.”
That made her laugh softly, quiet enough that only he heard it. “Fair point.”
Jin passed by, checking the cabin one last time before takeoff. “Seat belts,” he reminded, glancing at Luly, then at Haesoo with a knowing look that said behave.
Luly buckled hers, still smiling. “Don’t worry, Jin. We’re just sitting.”
Dongmin called from up front, “Keyword: just.”
Taeyul laughed. “He’s not surviving this flight.”
Haesoo ignored them, leaning slightly toward her. “You really packed everyone onto your jet last minute?”
Luly’s tone was light. “I didn’t want to celebrate without them.”
He smiled. “You mean without me.”
Her eyes flickered toward him. “You most of all.”
The engines roared softly as the jet began to taxi down the runway, the golden cabin lights dimming into a quiet night glow.
Dongmin stretched out in his seat. “This is insane. We’re actually flying to California in her jet.”
Minjae checked his watch. “Get used to it. She’s unpredictable.”
Taeyul smirked, watching Haesoo and Luly sitting shoulder to shoulder at the back, her head now tilted gently against his shoulder as the plane lifted from the ground. “Yeah,” he said softly. “But he’s not complaining.”
The jet leveled out above the clouds, the faint vibration of the engines steady and low. The cabin lights dimmed to a soft amber glow, reflecting off the white leather and gold trim. Outside the windows, the world was all silver haze and darkness.
A quiet hum filled the space as the flight attendants moved through the aisle. One stopped beside Luly’s seat with a small, respectful smile. “Miss Reyes, would you like a blanket?”
“Yes, thank you,” Luly said softly, taking it from her. She reclined her seat, the smooth electric motion almost silent, and the attendant stepped back with a bow before heading to the front.
Haesoo reclined his seat to match hers, turning his head slightly toward her. She unfolded the blanket and without a word lifted the armrest between them, spreading the soft fabric across both of them until it draped over his chest too.
He smiled faintly, voice low. “You always do that.”
She gave a small shrug, her tone calm but fond. “You always forget blankets.”
He chuckled quietly, his eyes watching her as she shifted in her seat, tugging lightly at the seat belt around her waist. It was snug, locked tight.
He reached over and touched the strap. “Is it too tight? Loosen it a little.”
She shook her head, trying for nonchalance. “Jin doesn’t let me. He already adjusted it to ‘flight safety standards.’” Her voice carried a faint imitation of Jin’s serious tone that made Haesoo smile.
But when she tugged again, her brows pinched slightly. He noticed instantly.
“Hey,” he murmured, his voice softening. “If it’s uncomfortable—”
“It’s fine,” she said quickly, though the reassurance sounded more for herself than him. She pressed a hand lightly against her stomach, her expression unreadable. “I don’t mind. Typically. It just… hurts a little right now.”
Haesoo frowned, concern flickering in his eyes. “Since when?”
Luly exhaled, brushing it off with a small shake of her head. “It’s nothing serious. Probably from stress or skipping lunch.” She smiled faintly, but her voice had that careful edge — the one she used when she didn’t want him to worry. “It’s fine, really.”
He hesitated for a moment, then slid his hand under the blanket, resting it over hers where it still pressed against her abdomen. “If it gets worse, you tell me,” he said quietly.
She turned her head toward him, their faces close in the soft cabin light. “I said it’s fine,” she murmured again, this time more gently a mix of stubbornness and warmth.
He didn’t move his hand. “I know. Just in case.”
Her lips curved faintly, eyes softening. “You’re impossible.”
“Good,” he said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Because you don’t take care of yourself enough.”
Luly didn’t answer, only exhaled slowly and leaned into him until her head rested against his shoulder. The blanket slipped slightly as she settled, the hum of the jet surrounding them.
For a moment, the world outside didn’t exist just her quiet breathing, his hand warm over hers, and the faint rhythm of engines carrying them into the dark sky.
The cabin had fallen into that soft, heavy quiet that only comes after hours in the air. Most of the members were asleep in their reclined seats, headphones loose, faces dimly lit by the muted overhead glow. The jet hummed steadily, gliding through the dark sky.
Luly wasn’t resting, though.
Even under the blanket, she kept shifting turning slightly, curling in on herself, then stretching out again. Her brow furrowed, her breathing uneven. Haesoo had been watching her for the last ten minutes, his eyes tracing the small movements she made in discomfort.
Finally, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stood, careful not to wake her. He walked quietly toward the front where Jin was seated, scrolling through his tablet and checking flight data.
“Jin,” Haesoo said quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the others. “Can I loosen her seatbelt a bit? Her stomach hurts. She’s uncomfortable.”
Jin didn’t even look up at first. “No.”
Haesoo frowned. “She’s not sleeping well. It’s too tight”
“She’s fine,” Jin cut in, calm but firm, eyes still on the screen.
Haesoo’s jaw tightened. “You sure? She keeps moving, she”
Now Jin looked up, meeting his eyes with that sharp, seasoned kind of authority only he had. “Jeon,” he said evenly, “last time we hit turbulence, she flew half a meter off the seat. She weighs forty kilograms. I’m not taking that risk again.”
Haesoo blinked, caught off guard. “Flying wait, seriously?”
Jin sighed, leaning back slightly, his tone dry. “It was on the Tokyo leg two years ago. No belt, sudden drop. I was the one who had to catch her before she hit the cabinet. She doesn’t argue with me about seatbelts anymore, and neither will you.”
Haesoo’s expression softened, a mix of concern and reluctant understanding. He glanced back toward her. Luly had turned again, her hand resting absently on her stomach even in sleep.
Jin followed his gaze, his voice lower now. “She’ll be fine. The belt’s adjusted for comfort and safety. It’s the only thing keeping her from floating if the jet hits turbulence again.”
Haesoo exhaled quietly, his frustration easing into quiet worry. “Alright,” he murmured. “Just… make sure she’s okay.”
Jin’s tone softened, just a hint. “I always do.”
Haesoo gave a small nod and walked back to his seat. He slipped under the blanket again, careful not to wake her.
Luly shifted in her sleep, frowning slightly. He brushed her hair from her face, whispering softly, “You’re okay.”
She sighed, her body finally stilling, and leaned unconsciously into his shoulder.
Haesoo leaned his head back against the seat, watching the soft glow of the sky outside the window, and thought to himself that Jin was probably right she looked fragile in moments like this. Like the smallest jolt could lift her straight into the air.
The cabin was dark and still when it started.
Haesoo had drifted half asleep with the hum of the engines when a sharp sound jolted him awake — a gasp, sharp and shallow. He turned instantly.
Luly sat upright, clutching her stomach, her breath coming fast and uneven. Sweat glistened on her forehead, strands of her hair sticking to her temple. Her eyes were unfocused, wide, like she couldn’t see the room — only whatever was happening inside her.
“Luly?” Haesoo whispered, alarm already tightening his voice. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer. Her breaths came faster, hands pressing hard against her abdomen. The seatbelt strained against her as her body curled forward. Then, with shaking fingers, she unbuckled it and hunched forward, gasping like she couldn’t get enough air.
“Luly—”
Her whole body trembled, her lips pale, chest rising and falling too fast. The sound of her breathing filled the quiet jet — harsh, uneven, broken by soft, desperate whimpers that made Haesoo’s stomach twist.
She rocked back and forth in her seat, eyes squeezed shut. “It hurts— it hurts—” she whispered, voice barely there, as if every word scraped through her throat.
Haesoo jumped up. “Jin! Jin!”
Jin was already moving from the front, his steps fast and controlled. Minjae followed close behind, his face grim. The others stirred awake, confused.
“What’s happening?” Dongmin muttered, sitting up.
“Stay back,” Minjae said quickly, tone low but firm. “Don’t crowd her.”
Haesoo crouched in front of Luly, his hands hovering, afraid to touch her. “Luly, look at me. Hey, look at me.”
But she didn’t seem to hear him. Her breaths came in gasps now, almost sobs, her hands clutching tighter. Then she pushed herself to her feet suddenly, staggering into the aisle.
“Luly—wait—” Haesoo reached for her, but she pulled away, pacing fast, unsteady. Her bare feet barely made a sound on the carpet, her steps restless and desperate.
She couldn’t stay still — every second she moved, her body folding and straightening as if her muscles were fighting themselves. The pain bent her forward again and again, her fingers digging into her own sides.
Her voice broke in a cry that startled everyone awake — not a scream, but a sound raw and guttural, pulled straight from somewhere deep.
“Do something!” Haesoo shouted, looking at Jin. “Help her!”
Jin’s face was tense but steady. “There’s nothing to do,” he said, voice flat from experience. “She has to ride it out.”
Haesoo’s eyes flared. “Ride it out? She’s in agony!”
Minjae’s voice came from behind him, quiet but sure. “He’s right. It’s happened before. She just has to endure it.”
“For how long?” Haesoo demanded.
Jin glanced at Luly, who had braced herself against a seat, her head bowed, breathing ragged. “It can last minutes… or hours,” he said. “Depends how bad the episode is.”
Haesoo froze, his throat tight. “Episode?”
“She’s been getting them since she was sixteen,” Minjae said softly. “It’s her body. The pain comes like a wave no medicine, no warning. Just hits her.”
Luly’s legs gave out, and she dropped to her knees in the aisle, clutching her stomach so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her body shook, her breathing turned into short, broken gasps. She pressed her forehead against the edge of the seat, trying to anchor herself, but even that seemed too much.
“Make it stop,” she gasped out, her voice strangled and shaking. “Please make it stop”
Haesoo knelt beside her instantly, his heart pounding, hands trembling as he tried to steady her. “Hey, hey I’m here. You’re okay. Just breathe with me. Breathe.”
She couldn’t. Her breath came in desperate bursts, her back arching as another wave hit her. The sound she made then half sob, half groan echoed through the cabin. It wasn’t just pain. It was pain so deep it emptied everything else from her.
Dongmin covered his mouth, frozen. “She sounds like she’s”
“Don’t say it,” Jisung murmured, his voice breaking.
Eunwoo stood halfway up, helpless, his jaw clenched. “Shouldn’t we call someone? Land? Something?”
Jin shook his head. “She’s stable. This is normal for her.” His tone said it wasn’t normal at all just familiar.
Haesoo’s voice was hoarse now. “She’s burning up. Look at her.”
He brushed her hair back, her skin slick with sweat, her lips trembling. She clutched his shirt suddenly, her nails digging into his chest as she cried out again, body curling in on itself.
Jin knelt beside them and spoke quietly, almost clinical. “Don’t touch her stomach. It makes it worse. Just keep her from hitting the floor.”
Haesoo’s chest heaved. “How are you so calm?”
“Because panic doesn’t help her,” Jin said, voice low, eyes never leaving Luly. “This isn’t new.”
Minjae crouched a few steps away, his face lined with quiet worry. “It’s been months since her last one. They come when her stress gets too high. It’s her body’s way of shutting down.”
Luly’s voice cracked through the air again, louder now, raw and pleading. “Stop please it hurts”
Haesoo felt his throat close. He’d seen her exhausted before, seen her wince in her sleep, whisper in pain. But this— this was something else. This was her body breaking apart from the inside.
He held her hand tightly, even when she tried to pull away, whispering over and over, “I’m right here. I’m here, Luly. Just hold on.”
Her fingers squeezed back once a weak, trembling squeeze before another wave hit, and she cried out again, collapsing forward, gasping for air that didn’t seem to reach her lungs.
Jin looked at the clock above the cabin door. “We just have to wait it out,” he said, almost to himself. “She’ll come down eventually.”
Haesoo turned his head, eyes wet, voice shaking. “And if she doesn’t?”
Jin met his gaze, the answer quiet but heavy. “Then I wake the pilot.”
The jet kept flying, engines humming steady against the darkness, while inside, every sound her breathing, her cries, Haesoo’s voice trying to comfort her filled the small cabin with the unbearable sound of someone fighting their own body, minute by painful minute.
Luly crumpled to the floor, her knees pulling tight against her chest. The carpet muffled the sound of her movements as she curled into a fetal position, rocking back and forth, her body trembling so hard the blanket slid off her shoulders. Her breathing came in jagged gasps—short, panicked pulls that barely reached her lungs. Sweat ran down the side of her face, soaking the collar of her shirt.
Haesoo was on his knees beside her instantly. “Luly—hey, look at me—Luly.”
But she couldn’t hear him. Her eyes were open, unfocused, her lips moving soundlessly between gasps. Her hand clutched her stomach, pressing hard, as though she could hold the pain in place.
“Jin,” Haesoo snapped, voice breaking, “do something!”
Jin was already moving. He reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a small black medical bag, setting it on the floor beside her.
Haesoo’s chest tightened. “What’s that for?”
Jin crouched down, unzipping it with practiced calm. “In case she throws up,” he said simply. His tone was steady, but his eyes weren’t. They flicked over her quickly, assessing every movement, every sound.
Haesoo’s throat went dry. “She’s not breathing right.”
“She is,” Jin said, quiet but firm. “Her body’s fighting it. She’s done this before.”
Minjae hovered close, his voice low but urgent. “How bad is it this time?”
Jin didn’t answer right away. He pressed the back of his hand lightly to Luly’s cheek she was burning. “Worse than last month.”
Her body jerked suddenly as another wave of pain hit. She let out a choked cry, her fingers clawing at the carpet, the sound raw enough to make Dongmin cover his mouth and turn away.
The flight attendants rushed down the aisle, their faces pale. One of them carried a basket of rolled white towels; the other followed with a kettle of steaming water.
“Hot compress,” Jin said quickly. “Lower abdomen. Change it every few minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” The attendants knelt beside Luly with trembling hands, unrolling a towel and pressing it gently against her stomach. Steam curled up from the fabric as she flinched, her breath catching in her throat.
Haesoo’s hand was still on her back, his voice shaking. “It’s too hot be careful”
Jin touched his shoulder, calm but commanding. “Leave it. The heat helps her muscles relax.”
Luly’s voice came in a whisper, strained and barely audible. “It’s—it’s too much”
Jin leaned closer, his tone softening just a little. “I know, Reyes. Breathe through it. It’s just your body releasing. Don’t fight it.”
She shook her head weakly, her forehead pressed against the carpet. Her rocking grew faster, desperate, each breath sounding like it scraped through her chest.
Haesoo’s voice broke. “She can’t take this please, there has to be something”
Minjae crouched beside him, steady but heavy-eyed. “This is how it goes. It looks bad, but she’ll make it through. She always does.”
Haesoo’s eyes were wet, his hands shaking. “This isn’t bad, this is torture.”
Jin switched the towel, replacing it with another heated one. Steam rose again, her skin damp from sweat. “It’s her nervous system reacting,” he said quietly. “Her threshold’s high, but when it breaks, it hits like this.”
Luly groaned, the sound so raw that the members behind them fell silent. She curled tighter, fingers clutching at the blanket Haesoo tried to tuck around her again. Her breaths came in short bursts fast, shallow, animal.
Eunwoo looked away, whispering, “She looks like she’s fighting for her life.”
No one argued.
Haesoo pressed his palm over hers, his voice breaking. “Hey—hey, I’m right here. Look at me, please.”
For a moment, her eyes flickered up to him, glassy with pain, barely focusing. Then she gasped, curling forward again, her nails scraping against the floor.
Jin caught her shoulders lightly before she could hit her head on the armrest. “Easy, Reyes. Stay down. Let it pass.”
Another attendant handed him a towel, and he replaced the one on her stomach again. Each time the heat touched her skin, she shuddered and whimpered, her voice cracking on every breath.
Haesoo swallowed hard, his voice barely holding steady. “How long has she been like this before?”
Minjae’s voice was low. “Longest I’ve seen was four hours.”
Haesoo stared at him in disbelief. “Four hours?”
Minjae nodded once. “And she didn’t make a sound until the end.”
Haesoo looked back at her, her body trembling violently, her hands still pressed against her stomach like she was trying to contain an explosion. He couldn’t imagine her ever being quiet through this. He couldn’t imagine anyone could survive it.
She rocked harder, breathless, sobbing through clenched teeth. “It hurts too much.”
Haesoo caught her hand and pressed it to his chest. “I know. I know, baby. I’m right here.”
Jin kept replacing the towels with precision, his jaw tight. The attendants moved silently, their faces drawn with worry. The scent of heat, sweat, and steam mixed with the faint sweetness of her perfume.
Outside, the jet sailed through perfect calm skies but inside, it felt like a storm had taken her body hostage.
And all Haesoo could do was hold her hand, watch her fight, and pray she’d make it through the next minute without breaking.
Three hours later, the jet felt like it had flown through another lifetime.
The once-tense silence had settled into something heavy and exhausted. The others hadn’t spoken in nearly half an hour; the soft hum of the engines and the rhythmic beep of the cabin controls were the only sounds that broke the quiet.
Luly’s movements had slowed. Her rocking faded to small twitches, her breathing deep but uneven. The lines around her eyes began to smooth, her fingers loosening from the blanket she’d twisted in her hands.
Then, finally, she went still.
Jin crouched beside her, his expression easing for the first time that night. He pressed two fingers to the side of her neck, counting quietly under his breath, then exhaled. “She’s out.”
Haesoo, still kneeling on the floor beside her, let out a trembling breath of relief. His hand was still tangled in hers. “She’s asleep?”
Jin nodded once. “Exhaustion did it. That’s good. Let her rest.”
Slowly, carefully, Jin slid his arms beneath her and lifted her from the carpet. For a man who never showed softness, the way he moved now was almost reverent — precise, deliberate, making sure her head didn’t fall back, her hair didn’t catch on the seat arm.
Haesoo stood quickly to help, steadying the recliner as Jin lowered her into it. Her body looked weightless in his arms, small and pale, her head lolling against his shoulder before he settled her back.
He adjusted the recline until she was half-lying down, then crouched again to pull a pair of soft gray socks from her bag. He slipped them onto her feet carefully, tucking the blanket edges over her toes.
Dongmin whispered from the next row, voice low and shaken. “He even puts her socks on.”
Minjae’s reply came quiet. “He’s done this before.”
Jin unfolded another blanket and draped it over her, then another, then one more across her midsection, pressing it gently against her stomach. The layers made her look small, almost buried, her breathing now slow and steady beneath the covers.
Haesoo frowned, voice still unsteady. “That many?”
Jin nodded. “If her stomach gets cold, it can start again.” He adjusted the fabric, smoothing it over her abdomen with the precision of someone who’d done this too many times. “Keep her warm. Don’t move her unless she wakes up.”
Eunwoo rubbed his face, still shaken. “She’s just… sleeping after all that?”
Jin’s tone was calm, but the exhaustion behind it was clear. “Sleep is the best thing for her. It’s better if she’s asleep and in pain than awake and feeling every second of it.”
Haesoo swallowed hard, looking at her pale face, the faint glisten of sweat still at her hairline. “She shouldn’t have to endure that.”
Minjae’s voice was steady but quiet. “She’s been enduring it her whole life.”
Dongmin whispered, barely audible, “I didn’t know it could get that bad…”
“No one does,” Jin said simply, tucking the blanket’s corner near her shoulder. “She hides it when she can. You only see it when she can’t anymore.”
Haesoo sat back down beside her, his hand finding hers under the blankets, his thumb brushing her knuckles. Her skin was warm now, almost feverish. He leaned forward slightly, whispering, “You’re safe now, okay? Just sleep.”
Luly stirred faintly, her breathing hitching once before settling again.
Jin checked her pulse one more time, then straightened, rolling his stiff shoulders. “She’ll sleep for a few hours. Don’t wake her unless she starts shaking or calling out.”
Haesoo looked up at him, his voice quiet but full of gratitude. “Thank you.”
Jin shook his head. “Don’t thank me. Just keep her calm when she wakes.”
He took one last glance at her, the three blankets tucked tight around her small frame, her dark hair fanned across the seat, before moving to sit near the front again.
The jet continued to hum, steady and unchanging, cutting through the dark sky.
Haesoo stayed beside her the whole time, fingers laced with hers under the covers, listening to her breathe each rise and fall a quiet reminder that, for now, the storm had passed.
