Three days later, Kim Chong was back at the convenience store, pushing a mop across the linoleum floor. The fluorescent lights above flickered faintly, casting a pale glow over half-stocked shelves and quiet aisles. Outside, snow danced lazily past the glass windows—slow, soft, like time itself had started to exhale.
The radio played a love song from three years ago, one that used to make him roll his eyes. Now, he hummed along without realizing it. His body was tired, aching from back-to-back practice sessions. But his spirit? That spark inside him was stronger than ever.
He paused near the counter, leaning on the mop handle, replaying the second audition in his head. The piano notes. The sweat. The way he'd caught his breath right before the final chorus. The smallest nod from the judge with the piercing gaze. Maybe it was nothing.
But maybe it wasn't.
His phone buzzed in his apron pocket.
Unknown Number.
His hand trembled. He stared at the screen for a second too long. Then he wiped his hands and picked up.
"Hello?"
A calm, professional voice answered. "Hello, is this Kim Chong?"
His heart skipped. "Yes. Speaking."
"This is from Rise Entertainment. We wanted to let you know… you've passed the final evaluation."
The words didn't register at first.
"We'd like to offer you a trainee contract. Are you available to come in tomorrow to discuss the terms?"
Silence.
Then—
"Yes," Kim said, barely choking it out. "Yes, I'm available."
"Excellent. We'll send over the details by email. Congratulations."
The line disconnected.
He stood there for a moment, phone still against his ear, mop forgotten at his feet, breath frozen in his chest.
Then he laughed. Loudly. Uncontrollably. The single customer in the snack aisle jumped and stared.
Kim didn't care.
He stepped outside, apron still on, snow falling on his face. He looked up at the sky and let the flakes kiss his cheeks, melt into his skin.
He had done it.
He made it.
That night, he got home early for the first time in weeks. The apartment smelled like instant noodles and laundry detergent. Seokjin was at the table, sleeves rolled up, counting bills with a frown.
"Hyung," Kim said, breathless. "I got in."
Seokjin didn't look up. "Into what?"
Kim's lips parted, then curved into a grin. "The company. The one I auditioned for. They offered me a trainee contract."
Seokjin froze. The calculator in his hand stopped clicking.
He looked at his little brother, really looked at him—messy hair, flushed cheeks, eyes burning with something he hadn't seen in a long time.
Then he stood up and pulled Kim into the tightest hug he'd ever given.
"You did it," he whispered into his ear. "You finally did it, little bro."
Kim gripped his brother's hoodie, burying his face in the fabric. Tears prickled his eyes—not from pain, not from disappointment—but from something bright and terrifying and beautiful.
Victory.
Across the city, Ha-eun's phone lit up.
She sat curled in a corner of the practice room, scrolling through vocal warm-up videos and eating spicy tteokbokki straight from the cup. A message popped up from Kim.
Kim Chong : I GOT IN.
Her eyes widened. She blinked once. Twice. Then a grin exploded across her face.
She leapt up so fast she nearly tripped on her gym bag.
"HE GOT IN!" she shouted to the empty room, startling the janitor sweeping in the hallway.
She spun in a circle, then grabbed her phone and typed back.
Ha-eun : You better be kidding or I swear I'm going to throw a shoe at you tomorrow.
Kim Chong : Not kidding. Trainee contract. I start next week.
Ha-eun : I'm crying and screaming and kicking the air I'M SO PROUD OF YOU.
She stared at his message for a moment longer.
Then she whispered into the quiet room, "Told you you could do it, dummy."
And for the first time in a while, the girl who always lifted others finally felt lifted herself.
Because when one dream rises, the others rise with it.