SESE03
Leecher
The practice room was silent, save for the rhythmic squeak of sneakers against the polished wood. Chaewon stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, her reflection sharp under the fluorescent hum of the late-night lights.
She adjusted her cap, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and cued the track for the twentieth time. As the bass kicked in, her movements shifted from fluid grace to sudden, snapping precision. Every angle was calculated; every look into the glass was a silent challenge to herself.
When the music finally faded, she didn't collapse. She simply took a slow breath, wiped a bead of sweat from her jaw, and leaned in to check the recording on her phone. There was a small, knowing smirk on her face—the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly how much work it took to make perfection look like an accident.
She adjusted her cap, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and cued the track for the twentieth time. As the bass kicked in, her movements shifted from fluid grace to sudden, snapping precision. Every angle was calculated; every look into the glass was a silent challenge to herself.
When the music finally faded, she didn't collapse. She simply took a slow breath, wiped a bead of sweat from her jaw, and leaned in to check the recording on her phone. There was a small, knowing smirk on her face—the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly how much work it took to make perfection look like an accident.