Kizzy POV

I slowly twisted the front door handle of the dorm, trying to be as silent as possible.

It was past midnight. Almost two.

I had just come back from the club—something I had always been lectured about by the managers. But who cares? It’s my life. At least when I’m drunk and dancing in a club with my two best friends, I can pretend everything is fine.

Haerin and Rosé.

Haerin was my school friend. Now she works in corporate.

And Rosé… she’s an idol like me.

I slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind me.

My heels came off immediately. I carefully placed them near the entrance, not wanting the sound to echo through the dorm and alert anyone. I had a graceful day today, and I didn’t want anyone ruining it at two in the morning.

I hung the keys on the hook behind the door and slowly padded across the hallway toward my bedroom.

I had almost passed the living room and kitchen when—

“Where were you?”

A low but firm voice stopped me in my tracks.

Ugh. Here we go again.

I turned around to see Seokjin, the leader of the group, standing near the kitchen wall. His arms were crossed against his broad chest, his eyes fixed on me with clear disapproval.

I groaned, craning my neck back in frustration.

“Out.”

His eyes narrowed. Of course that wasn’t enough for him.

“Do you know what time it is?” he asked.

I stayed quiet.

“Do you have any idea how tiring it is to deal with your reckless behavior? Always putting yourself in danger. Always risking a scandal.”

I knew how tiring it was.

Trust me—if I were him, I’d probably react the same way.

I’m not stupid. I know paparazzi are constantly leeching into our lives, waiting for something to exploit. I’m careful not to give them anything.

But that wasn’t the issue right now.

Right now, I had the leader of the group lecturing me about being out late at night as if he actually cared.

“I’m not a child.”

It has been eight and a half years since our debut.

I joined the group when I was fourteen, and we debuted when I was fifteen. That meant I had the shortest trainee period among all the members in my group.

I trained for only seven months.

Some of the others had trained for more than a year. Some even for two.

But instead of accepting that maybe—just maybe—I was naturally talented, people started throwing around allegations. According to them, I had used my father’s influence to secure my spot in the group.

And just like that, a rumor turned into something uglier.

Something that made the very people who were supposed to be my friends… my family… my support system…hate me.

“And yet you act like one,” he replied flatly.

I sighed, rubbing my temple. The faint buzz of alcohol was fading, leaving behind only exhaustion.

“Can we not do this right now?” I muttered.

His arms stayed crossed.

“No. Actually, we’re going to do this now.”

Of course we are.

Because apparently my life decisions had become everyone’s favorite group discussion topic.

“It’s two in the morning,” he continued. “You disappeared without telling anyone. Your phone was off. Managers were calling me asking where you were.”

I blinked slowly.

“Oh no,” I deadpanned. “Did the world collapse?”

His eyes flashed.

“This isn’t funny.”

“It kind of is.”

The silence stretched tight like a wire.

I knew exactly what he was thinking.

Rich girl. Careless. Irresponsible.

Just another example to prove his point.

I leaned against the hallway wall, crossing my arms.

“I went out with friends.”

“Which friends?”

I hesitated for half a second.

Then I shrugged.

“Rosé and Haerin.”

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

“Rosé again?” he said dryly. “That’s a headline waiting to happen.”

I almost rolled my eyes.

There were already several rumors and scandals attached to my name anyway. One of them being that I was supposedly a lesbian.

Which was ridiculous.

I mean, I’m not homophobic or anything—but I’m a hundred percent straight.

And for the record… lesbians are hot.

“I can have friends, Seokjin.”

“You’re an idol.”

The emphasis in his voice made me want to laugh.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “Unfortunately.”

He exhaled slowly, clearly fighting his temper.

“You think I enjoy dealing with this?” he said. “Every time you disappear the company calls me first. The managers call me. I’m the one who has to answer for your behavior.”

Ah.

There it was.

Not concern.

Responsibility.

Damage control.

Exactly what I expected.

I pushed myself off the wall.

“Well congratulations,” I said lightly. “You survived another terrible night of babysitting me.”

He stared at me like I had personally insulted his ancestors.

“Kizzy—”

I rolled my eyes and turned toward my room again.

“I’m going to sleep.”

“You’re not done talking to me.”

“I am.”