Chapter Text
Megan had never particularly enjoyed awards shows. The outfits were uncomfortable, the speeches were predictable, and the entire production felt choreographed down to the last strained smile. Actually, she'd enjoyed them even less ever since SUNDA3 debuted three months ago on the exact same day as BRITZ. The universe apparently had a sense of humor, and that sense of humor was terrible.
The Seoul Music Awards stage glittered under a frankly excessive number of lights. Megan sat between Lara and Manon in the third row, her face fixed in what she hoped passed for serene confidence. Cameras panned across the audience every few seconds, searching for reactions to capture and dissect. She'd already been caught on screen twice—once during SUNDA3's performance of "Tonight I Might" and once when the hosts made a joke about "rising rookies." Both times, she'd maintained perfect composure. Absolutely not thinking about how SUNDA3's matching white outfits made them look like a synchronized swimming team that had wandered into the wrong venue.
"You're grinding your teeth again," Lara murmured without moving her lips.
Megan stopped grinding her teeth.
The thing was, BRITZ had worked for this. While other groups sat in practice rooms learning choreo handed down from on high, BRITZ had spent eighteen-hour days in the studio. Megan had co-produced "MIA" herself, and the track had climbed to number three on the charts through sheer force of will and a bass line that refused to leave anyone's head. Their concept was sultry, dark, mature—everything the industry claimed girl groups couldn't pull off. Naturally, they'd pulled it off. Subsequently, they'd been rewarded with think pieces about "age-appropriate concepts" and concern-trolling tweets from people whose profile pictures were anime characters.
SUNDA3, meanwhile, had been handed "My Way" by some producer who'd probably written it in his sleep. The song was fine. Perfectly fine. Annoyingly fine, actually, because it meant Megan couldn't even complain about it being bad. Yoonchae's voice in the whole song was clear and controlled, hitting notes that seemed effortless. Sophia's choruses had a clean flow. Daniela's stage presence was undeniable. All of this was factual information that Megan definitely didn't know because she'd watched their performances multiple times while scrolling through hate forums at 2 AM.
The hosts were building up to Song of the Year now. Megan could feel it as her heart rate picked up despite her best efforts. Manon reached over and squeezed her hand once.
"And the award goes to..." The host opened the envelope slowly
Drum roll, please!
Badumdumdumdumdumdum…
"BRITZ, for 'MIA'!"
The roar of the crowd hit first. Lara stood, and standing felt like floating. Megan was already crying—she always cried—and Manon was laughing, pulling them both toward the stage. The lights were blinding. The trophy was heavier than expected. Megan's hand closed around cool metal, and vindication filled her chest.
She'd written this song. She'd produced it. She'd fought their creative director tooth and nail over the lyrics, and she'd been right.
Her acceptance speech was brief because she'd practiced being brief. Thank you to the fans, thank you to the staff, thank you to her members. All the required gratitude boxes checked. She didn't look at SUNDA3's table during the speech. She didn't need to look. She could feel them there in her peripheral vision, three figures in white sitting perfectly still.
The applause continued as they walked off stage. Backstage was a mess of people—staff members with headsets, other idols congratulating them, camera crews trying to get reactions. Megan smiled until her face hurt. She posed for photos. She said all the right things into all the right microphones.
Then she saw them.
SUNDA3 was in the hallway, apparently heading back from their own backstage interview. They were smiling. All three of them, smiling like they'd just won the award themselves. Yoonchae even looked happy, genuinely happy, as though she won the award herself.
"Congratulations," Sophia said as they passed.
"Your performance was amazing," Daniela added.
Yoonchae met Megan's eyes for a fraction of a second. Her smile didn't waver. She was the youngest of SUNDA3, only almost a year younger than Megan herself, and she had the audacity to look completely unbothered. Media training had clearly done its job. Nothing penetrated that pleasant mask. No disappointment, no resentment, no competitive fire whatsoever.
"Thanks," Megan said. Her own smile felt tight.
They continued past each other. Manon was already chatting with Lara about the afterparty, oblivious to the way Megan's nails were digging into her palms. This was the problem with SUNDA3. They never reacted. They never showed weakness. They performed their sanitized ballads and accepted their sanitized image and thanked their producers prettily for whatever scraps of creative input they were allowed.
Worse, the public loved them for it. "SUNDA3's Graceful Response to BRITZ's Win" would probably be a headline by tomorrow morning. Some entertainment reporter would write a whole article about their professionalism and maturity. They'd come out looking classy while BRITZ would inevitably be painted as the aggressive ones, the try-hards, the group that cared too much.
Megan hated it. She hated that she couldn't hate them properly because they never gave her real ammunition. She hated that Yoonchae was objectively talented and still got shoved into the maknae box the same way Megan did. She hated that "Tonight I Might" was actually a decent song even if SUNDA3 hadn't written a single word of it. She especially hated that she knew all these things because she'd spent far too many hours analyzing their content when she should have been sleeping or practicing or doing literally anything else.
Oh well. They'd just won Song of the Year nonetheless. BRITZ was on top, exactly where they deserved to be. The trophy in her hands proved it.
Unfortunately, being right had never been particularly satisfying when the people who were wrong refused to acknowledge it. Yoonchae's smile lingered in Megan's mind as they headed toward the dressing room. Absolutely infuriating!
Megan's phone buzzed. She'd meant to avoid social media tonight, but habits were habits. The trending page was predictable: #BRITZ, #MIA, #SongOfTheYear, and—inevitably—#BRITZvsSUNDA3. She clicked on the last one against her better judgment.
The tweets were exactly what she'd expected. Fans fighting over which group deserved the award. Think pieces about competition in K-pop, and ironically, neither of them were even K-POP. There were also side-by-side photo comparisons of the two groups at the awards show.
There was a clip of Megan's face when SUNDA3 performed. Her expression gave away nothing, but the caption read "Megan not impressed 😭." The replies were a warzone. Half the comments praised her for being "real," while the other half called her arrogant and disrespectful.
Further down, someone had posted a translation of a Korean article: "Industry Insiders Discuss the BRITZ and SUNDA3 Rivalry: Healthy Competition or Manufactured Drama?"
Megan locked her phone and dropped it in her lap.
"Don't read the comments," Manon said without looking over.
"I'm not."
"Sure."
Their manager had mercifully given them the next day off, which meant Megan could collapse directly into bed without pretending to be functional. She changed out of her awards show outfit, scrubbed off her makeup, and lay in the dark staring at her ceiling.
Song of the Year. They'd actually won it. Three months into their career, and they'd won Song of the Year.
Yoonchae's voice played in her head, clear, hitting that high note in "My Way" without any strain. She probably practiced every day. She probably practiced more than Megan did. She was probably in their dorm right now, still smiling that same pleasant smile, unbothered by the loss because she'd been trained not to care.
Megan rolled over and pulled her blanket up to her chin. A wonderful day for BRITZ’ maknae. The maknae who creates so much for the industry but never gets any credit because she is just the maknae, the youngest.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Currently, Yoonhae was thinking about how Megan Skiendiel's face during BRITZ's acceptance speech had the kind of smug satisfaction that made Yoonchae want to throw something heavy and expensive.
"You okay?" Sophia asked as they settled into the van. She was already holding Daniela's hand in the space between their seats where the cameras couldn't see. Their manager was in the front, separated by a privacy screen, which meant this was as close to privacy as SUNDA3 ever got.
"Fine," Yoonchae said. Her smile hadn't dropped since they'd left the venue. Her face might permanently freeze this way.
"You don't look fine," Daniela observed. Unfortunately, Yoonchae needed the opposite of emotional support. She needed a punching bag with Megan's face on it.
"I'm perfect." Yoonchae kept her tone light and pleasant. "Congratulations to BRITZ. Their song was very good."
The song was very good. This was the worst part. Yoonchae had listened to "MIA" so many times in the past month, analyzing every production choice and arrangement decision. Megan had co-produced it, which meant Megan had actual creative control over BRITZ's music. She got to make decisions. She got to shape their sound. She got to be treated like an artist instead of a pretty puppet who sang whatever the company's producers deemed appropriate.
SUNDA3, meanwhile, had received "My Way" three weeks before comeback and been told to make it work. Yoonchae had suggestions—ideas about the bridge, thoughts on the vocal arrangement—but suggesting things implied she knew better than the professionals. Professionals who had years of experience. Professionals who definitely weren't going to listen to the maknae who should be grateful she was even here.
"BRITZ deserved the win," Sophia said diplomatically. She was always diplomatic. "Their concept execution was really strong."
"Megan looked happy," Daniela added. She was watching Yoonchae with increasing interest, which meant she'd noticed something.
"She should be happy. They won." Yoonchae's jaw was starting to hurt from smiling. "I'm happy for them."
"Right," Sophia said slowly. "Happy for them. That's why you look like you're about to commit violence."
"I don't know what you mean."
Daniela laughed which seemed rude considering Yoonchae was clearly having a difficult evening. "You've been clenching your fists since we left the stage."
Yoonchae looked down. Her nails had left small crescents in her palms. She deliberately relaxed her hands and folded them neatly in her lap. "I'm practicing my breathing exercises."
"Sure," Sophia said. She exchanged one of those looks with Daniela, the kind of look that came from months of secretly dating and developing an entire non-verbal communication system. "This wouldn't have anything to do with how Megan looked at you in the hallway?"
"She didn't look at me."
"She definitely looked at you," Daniela said.
"She was probably just spacing out."
"Yoonchae." Sophia was using her leader voice now. "You know you can tell us if something's bothering you, right?"
Multiple things were bothering Yoonchae. The list was extensive, gosh, where should she even begin? BRITZ's win was just the most recent addition to a growing collection of grievances that started with "being cast as the cute maknae despite having a three-octave range" and ended with "Megan Skiendiel's entire existence."
The problem with Megan was that she represented everything Yoonchae wanted and couldn't have. BRITZ wrote their own music. They produced their own tracks. They had creative freedom and a concept that let them be sexy and mature and taken seriously. Meanwhile, SUNDA3 was stuck in matching white dresses singing about innocent love and following dreams. Yoonchae was eighteen years old. She was tired of following dreams. She wanted to write about something with actual depth, maybe something with minor chords, possibly something that didn't sound like it belonged in a commercial for laundry detergent.
But sure, this was about the way Megan had looked at her. Obviously.
"Nothing's bothering me," Yoonchae said. "I'm just tired."
Sophia and Daniela exchanged another look.
"What?" Yoonchae demanded.
"Nothing," Sophia said, but she was smiling.
"You like her," Daniela said. She sounded delighted. This was a betrayal of the highest order.
"I don't like her. I hate her."
"That's what someone with a crush would say."
"I don't have a crush on Megan Skiendiel." Yoonchae's voice came out too loud. Their manager glanced back through the partition, and she immediately modulated her tone back to appropriate levels. "She's arrogant. She's aggressive. She acts like BRITZ invented music production. She probably has a folder on her phone of screenshots from hate forums."
"You're obsessed," Daniela said. She was fully grinning now. Yoonchae had never wanted to betray her members before, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "It's cute."
Yoonchae had several responses to this, none of which were appropriate for someone who was supposed to be the sweet, well-behaved maknae of SUNDA3. She settled for silence, which was apparently the wrong choice because Sophia started laughing.
"I hate both of you," Yoonchae informed them.
"You love us," Sophia said. She squeezed Daniela's hand, and Daniela squeezed back. They looked disgustingly happy together. Yoonchae was happy for them. She was also annoyed that their relationship meant they'd formed an alliance against her.
"This isn't about Megan," Yoonchae tried again. "This is about artistic integrity. BRITZ gets to do whatever they want while we're stuck performing songs written by men who think teenage girls only care about boys and friendship bracelets."
"Valid point," Sophia acknowledged.
The van pulled up to their dorm. Yoonchae was out the door before it fully stopped, which would have been more dramatic if she didn't have to wait for Sophia and Daniela to catch up so they could all enter the building together. Their company had strict rules about members being alone in public, even in their own dorm parking lot.
Hours later, the staff members were already asleep or out, which meant Yoonchae could finally drop the smile. Her face felt like it might crack. She headed straight for her room, but Sophia caught her arm.
"Hey," Sophia said, and her voice was serious now. Not teasing. "I know it's frustrating. Not being in creative control. But we'll get there eventually."
"When?" Yoonchae asked. She was too tired to filter the bitterness out of her tone. "After how many comebacks? After we've proven ourselves enough times? BRITZ got to do it from debut."
"BRITZ also has Megan," Daniela pointed out. "She's...intense."
"I can be intense."
"You're literally called the baby of the group in every article written about us."
"I'm eighteen."
"Megan's nineteen," Sophia said gently. "But she acts like she's thirty. She's scary when she wants to be. You're..."
"What?"
"Cute," Daniela finished. "You're very cute. It's your brand."
Yoonchae wanted to scream. She wanted to throw something. She wanted to storm into BRITZ's dorm and tell Megan Skiendiel exactly what she thought about her smug acceptance speech and her perfect production skills and her stupid face that looked infuriatingly good even when she was being arrogant.
Instead, she smiled. "I'm going to bed."
"Try not to dream about Megan," Sophia called after her.
"I'm getting new members," Yoonchae said over her shoulder. "Better members."
She slammed her bedroom door on their laughter. Her room was small but neatly organized—another maknae trait the media loved to point out. Everything in its place. Nothing unexpected. Perfectly well-behaved Jeong Yoonchae, the baby of SUNDA3, who smiled at awards shows and never complained about the songs she was given.
Her phone was already buzzing with notifications. Social media would be a nightmare tonight.
She opened Twitter.
The trending page was predictable. #BRITZvsSUNDA3 sat at number one, followed by various permutations of their group names and the awards show. Someone had already made a compilation of "every time BRITZ and SUNDA3 interacted" that had half a million views. Yoonchae clicked it against her better judgment.
There she was, smiling at Megan in the hallway. Congratulating BRITZ. Looking completely unbothered by the loss. The comments were praising her maturity and grace. Someone had written "Yoonchae is such a class act." Another said "This is how you handle competition with dignity."
Yoonchae locked her phone and threw it on her bed.
'Dignity'. 'Maturity'. 'Grace'. All the words people used when they meant "boring." When they meant "knows her place." When they meant "won't cause problems."
Megan had caused problems since debut. Megan had fought for creative control and won. Megan had co-produced a Song of the Year winner at nineteen and made it look easy. Megan got to be ambitious and aggressive and taken seriously, while Yoonchae got to be cute.
The worst part was that Megan probably didn't even realize how lucky she was. She probably thought everyone got the same opportunities. She probably assumed SUNDA3 chose to have zero creative input, that they preferred being given songs rather than writing their own.
Yoonchae pulled out her laptop. She'd been working on a song for the past two months, something she hadn't shown anyone because showing it meant admitting she wanted more than she was allowed to have. The file opened, displaying half-finished lyrics and a basic chord progression. It wasn't much. It definitely wasn't Song of the Year material.
She put her headphones on and started working. Outside her room, she could hear Sophia and Daniela talking quietly, probably about her supposed crush. Let them think whatever they wanted. Let everyone think she was the sweet, grateful maknae who smiled through everything.
Inside her head, she was already burning Megan Skiendiel over a pile of coal in the deepest depths of hell.