“I just wanted to tell you all that I’ve had the time of my lifepreparing for this stage with you.” Min Jae paused, looking each one of his teammates in the eye. “Yeah, it hasn’t been easy. And, yeah, it’s possible that some of us might not make it into the Final Eight. But you’re all some of the most talented trainees I’ve ever worked with. AndSweet Toothwill always be our song.”
Woo Jin’s expression softened from jubilant enthusiasm to weepy affirmation. “I, uh–” He paused, dabbing the fresh tears from the corners of his eyes. “Thank you, hyung. For everything. We couldn’t have done any of this without you.” He shoved his hand into the middle of the group. “Fighting, on three?”
Min Jae thrust his hands in with everyone else. “Two, three...”
“Fighting!”
Satisfied that he’d made the best of the situation, Min Jae couldn’t help smiling as he followed the others backstage to prepare for their performance. He stripped off the black t-shirt he’d been wearing, swapping it for a silk-lined, deep burgundy velvet blazer he wore shirtless. An opulent look. Not quite regal enough to be confused for theKingmakerstage, and not nearly as dark as theForeverstage, but still reminiscent of them both. The wardrobe for the rest of the team followed the same concept of texture and quiet luxury–rich burgundy silk, black satin, and lavish, light-absorbing velvet, all cut in sharp, elegant silhouettes. Clean, expensive, and predatory. A lure into a world of sophisticated, irresistible temptation.
The stage director gave the team a ten second countdown as they assembled in entrance order and practically shoved them out when Si Woo called out their team name. They filed onstage to a tidal wave of screaming Dream Makers. Min Jae struggled to make out any faces of the many shouting his name, momentarily blinded by the blazing stage lights.
Si Woo met them at center stage, his grin wide and beaming. "Han Woo Jin, this is your first time as leader. What can the Dream Makers expect from your team?"
Woo Jin answered with a cool, confident smirk. “The DreamMakers have eaten well today, Si Woo, but I hope they saved room for dessert because we’re serving something a little–” He paused, his smirk widening a fraction. “–decadent.”
More screaming applause erupted from the audience. Si Woo grinned as one Dream Maker shouted, “I love you, Woo Jin!”
Si Woo playfully chuckled, an amused twinkle in his eyes. “It certainly sounds like someone might want what you’re serving. Why don’t you introduce your team?"
Woo Jin nodded, turning to the other. "Two, three..."
"We're Team Sweet Tooth,” they all said in unison, brushing the tips of their thumbs along their lower lips. “Are you ready for a taste?"
The crowd went wild. They were definitely ready. Si Woo waited for the screaming to die down before turning to Min Jae. “And our number one ranked Dream Boy, Kwon Min Jae. You’ve already given us so many legendary performances. Are you sure you can top those tonight?”
Min Jae met Si Woo’s gaze with supreme confidence, leaning into the same bad boy persona that had won him his first top ranking. “I haven’t let the Dream Makers down yet,” he said, putting the slightest growl into his voice. “And, with my team at my side, there’s no chance of doing it now.”
Si Woo nodded, eyebrows raised. “I have no doubts. Good luck, Team Sweet Tooth."
The lights dimmed as Si Woo cleared the stage until they cast warm, amber pools carved out of the surrounding darkness. Low and intimate. On a low riser sat a single, high-backed armchair upholstered in deep burgundy leather, a throne waiting for its monarch–or its victim. Slow, swirling plumes of chocolate-colored smoke and decadent drips of liquid gold set the mood on the giant screen behind them.
Min Jae took his opening position, holding it until the first, languid notes ofSweet Toothmelted from the sound system, a smooth, confident bassline slinking through the air. He movedwith an almost unnatural grace and precision, his body a finely tuned instrument, responding to his will without a hint of protest from his knee. He was a machine, fueled by a cocktail of emotion, adrenaline, and an intense, burning need to show the world why he, Kwon Min Jae, absolutely deserved the number one rank.
The tempo picked up as the first chorus hit, the team’s movements becoming more intricate, more alluring. Min Jae flowed through his part, a phantom smile playing on his lips, his eyes locked on the crane camera as it swooped in from beyond the blinding stage lights. Every controlled turn, every sharp slide, every fluid lean conveyed a mature, confident temptation, drawing the audience into the decadent world of his creation. He was power personified. He was flawless.
Min Jae’s smooth, sultry voice rang out during the bridge, his moment to bring everything home. He pushed forward with the same impressive control and restraint he’d shown the mentors, finally leaning into his secret weapon. He thought of Andy, unlocking the fire in his heart and setting it ablaze. Staring into his camera, he saw Andy’s face as he sang, felt his hands on Andy’s soft, smooth skin as he moved. His imagined Andy became his muse, driving him to levels of seduction that drove the Dream Makers absolutely wild. As he pushed up from his crouch into his long leap, his body lighter than air, he knew he’d nailed the killing part. Victory was his for the taking.
A sharp, white-hot pain exploded through his knee as he landed. His leg buckled, sending him tumbling, a desperate, strangled gasp escaping his lips as he collapsed hard in the middle of the stage. He immediately curled up on the cold floor, his hands clamped around his right knee, his throat already raw from his ragged screaming. The roar of the crowd, the thrumming music, the heat of the lights—it all dissolved into a high-pitched ringing and a blinding, sterile light.
Flashes of memory sliced through the agony. The scuffed,wooden floors of Co-modity’s practice room. The mirrors fogged with steam. Years ago. His own screams echoing in his ears, raw and primal, as the other trainees, their faces stricken with looks of shock and pity, crowding around him. A voice, younger but familiar, cut through the haze. "Hold on Min Jae, we’re getting help!"
The memory and the moment bled together. The phantom memory of his screaming fused with the real, horrified roar of the audience. The harsh fluorescent lights of the past merged with the blazing spotlights of the present.
Then the voice was there again, older now, rougher with panic. "Min Jae! Hyung! Medic! We need a medic!"
The memory shattered. He was in the Vision Center soundstage, still dressed for hisSweet Toothperformance. The face leaning over him, pale with a familiar, horrified recognition, wasn't a forgotten trainee. It was Woo Jin. The demon he thought he’d outrun had finally caught him, and it brought a witness from the first time it had tried to drag him down.
The music had stopped. Min Jae didn’t know when. Somewhere Si Woo and a squad of producers anxiously herded the traumatized Dream Makers off the soundstage floor. Another squad of faces looked down on him, blurry and unrecognizable in his delirious agony.
A new face appeared, shoving through the pack, pushing past a stunned Woo Jin to kneel beside him. Andy? Where the hell had he come from? No, it couldn’t have been him.
A hand–Andy’s hand?–grabbed his shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay, Min Jae. Paramedics are on their way.”
Andy’s voice, bleeding through the pain and confusion, letting him know they were still in it together. Min Jae reached up and found Andy’s hand, squeezing it. “I’m sorry,” he desperately wheezed, unable to make his voice work. “I think I fucked everything up.
Andy shook his head, his jaw set firm in a familiar look offurious defiance, ignoring the cameras and the audience as he focused solely on Min Jae. “You didn’t fuck anything up, dummy. You were amazing.”
More voices shouting as a team of paramedics surrounded him, pulling the onlookers away to reach him. Andy, wrenched himself from someone’s grip. “No, I'm not leaving him,” he snapped, as someone grabbed him from behind and yanked him back.
