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“If you agree it’s ridiculous, then why should I care about it?” I mutter.

He gives me a look that speaks volumes. It says, “You should know the answer to that.” Because anything that could affect my reputation in this industry weighs much heavier since I’m already mired in controversy. I walk a thin line always.

“You know, Eomma sounded upset on the phone. She gets really worried about us. It took a lot for her to let us come here alone.”

Now I want to lift a disbelieving brow. Because Hyejun and I both know that our momloveshaving famous kids. She’s constantly posting glamour shots of herself on her social media with captions likeHyejun’s eomma missing her son while he’s on tourorCelebrating my son’s most recent music show win. AX1S fighting!

I can count on one hand the number of times she’s posted about me: when I got first place on the first episode ofCiPro, when I debuted with Helloglow, and when my drama ratings hit twenty-five.

I hated how happy that last one made me. Because it meant I really did still need her approval.

But now this article is out and I feel like I’ve reverted to where I was a year ago.

“Maybe you should call her. She mentioned you never call her anymore,” Hyejun says.

I don’t call my mother unscheduled anymore, because every time I do, she tells me I’m interrupting her day and immediately hangs up on me. Things always have to be done on Han Jooyoung’s schedule or not at all. I can guarantee if I picked up the phone right now she’d be annoyed. But then she complains to Hyejun that I should call her more. I feel like the narrative of my life always shifts around me. The only consistency is that it’s whatever makes me look the worst.

“Just go, Oppa. I need to get ready and so do you.” I pretend to look through the apps on my phone.

“I can’t.” He leans back, crossing his legs comfortably. “I want to say hello to Minseok-ah first.”

“Why would you wait here to say hi to him?”

“Because I told him to come here.”

I spin to stare at him. “You what?”

Hyejun doesn’t seem to hear the surprised anger in my voice. Or, more likely, doesn’t care.

“I told him to meet me in your dressing room,” he repeats, and I let out an annoyed huff. Heknowsthat’s not why I asked.

There’s a quick rap on the door as it opens. He doesn’t even wait for an answer. Just like Minseok to do whatever he wants.

“Hey!” He greets Hyejun with a handshake half hug. Then he sends me a grin. “What’s up, Hyeri?”

He speaks in English. His accent skews British due to going to some fancy prep school in Westminster as a kid. Of course, it’s another thing the fangirls swoon over.

It annoys me just thinking of it. So, I refuse to look at him. Instead, I stare at the mirror in front of me.

Minseok is undeniably handsome. He isn’t as tall as Hyejun, but he has a presence that can’t be denied. It’s not so much about his looks as how he holds himself. There’s an aura like he was born to be a celebrity.

Even though his hair is back to a more natural brown color instead of the bright magenta it was a few months ago and his makeup is subtle, he could take to the stage and everyone would know he’s a performer.

“Any of the other guys coming?” Hyejun asks.

“Nah, I’m solo again today.” Minseok shrugs.

I’m confused. Every time I’ve ever seen WDB, they’ve been in one another’s pockets. Not all groups get along—it’s bound to happen when you gather multiple big personalities and shove them into a group together—but WDB is notorious for being closer than family. Which is why it feels so strange that Minseok seems completely fine with going solo this summer.

Minseok plucks the last bag of Honey Butter Chips off the table. I know it’s irrational, but it annoys me. He doesn’t have the courtesy to ask, even if I can’t eat them right now.

Thankfully, he puts the bag back down.

“I talked to Jongdae-hyeong. He seems to be doing much better. Enough to be bored.” Hyejun laughs, snatching up the chips that Minseok discarded and tearing them open.

“Wait—” I start to say, but it’s too late, he’s already shoved a handful in his mouth. So much for saving them for later.

I sigh and tell myself to calm down. I can buy more. But I know I won’t. It’s one thing to hoard a free bag of chips. It’s another to go out and buy them. I can’t justify spending the money on the calories.