Milo:

  I stared at the script, the words blurring together as I tried to make sense of my character’s lines. Ever since I got the part, I’d been glued to the script, reading it over and over like it would somehow imprint itself into my brain. Maybe it was nerves, or maybe it was just the pressure of wanting to prove myself, but I couldn’t let it go.

  The apartment was quiet, except for the occasional sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen. Dak-ho was making breakfast, something I hadn’t paid much attention to in days. My stomach growled, reminding me how little I’d eaten, but the script kept pulling me back in.

  “Milo,” Dak-ho’s voice broke through my concentration. “You gonna eat, man? You’ve been glued to that thing for days.”

  I blinked, finally looking up. He stood by the counter, plate in hand, watching me with a mix of amusement and concern.

  “I’m fine,” I muttered. “Just trying to get this down before the table read.”

  Dak-ho shook his head. “You don’t need to memorize it for the table read. It’s just a first pass.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “But I don’t want to look like an idiot.”

  Kwan, sitting at the table, chimed in. “What’s your role, exactly?”

  I leaned back, grateful for the distraction. “I don’t have all the details, but I know I’ll be on horseback a lot in the first episode. There’s a lot of action.”

  Dak-ho and Kwan exchanged looks.

  “Milo, have you ever ridden a horse before?” Dak-ho smirked.

  I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it. The closest I’d ever gotten was a carousel at an amusement park. “Uh… not really.”

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  Kwan raised an eyebrow. “Might want to figure that out before filming starts.”

  I groaned. “Great. One more thing to stress about.”

  Dak-ho clapped a hand on my shoulder. “They’ll probably train you. You won’t be the only rookie.”

  I sighed, finally pushing the script aside and grabbing a plate. “Fine. I’ll eat.”

  Right on cue, the front door swung open, and in came the rest of the guys—Yoo, Jae-sung, and Daiki from across the hall. Like clockwork, they raided the kitchen, claiming Dak-ho was the only one who could cook.

  “Morning!” Yoo chirped, grabbing a chair.

  Jae-sung slumped into a seat, barely awake, yet still looking effortlessly put together. He might not be a morning person, but that never stopped him from dressing like he was ready for a magazine shoot—designer t-shirts, layered golden chains, his signature mix of edgy and high-class. He and Kwan had similar styles, but Jae-sung, as the group’s rapper, always looked the part, like he belonged on stage 24/7. He muttered something that sounded like a greeting before inhaling a plate of food.

  Dak-ho shook his head, sliding a plate to Jae-sung. “Eat first, talk later.”

  Yoo, however, had all his focus on me. “Big day coming up. You excited?”

  Before I could answer, Daiki scoffed. “More like, is he ready?”

  I clenched my jaw, ignoring him. He’d been like this ever since I got the part, his usual cockiness laced with something sharper. Jealousy, maybe. Not that he’d ever admit it.

  Yoo shot him a look. “Of course he’s ready. He’s been working nonstop.”

  “We’ll see,” Daiki muttered, pushing food around his plate.

  Dak-ho clapped his hands together. “Alright, enough. Milo’s got this, and we’re all gonna support him, right?”

  Kwan nodded. “Just focus on the script. Don’t let anything else get to you.”

  I appreciated it, but Daiki’s attitude was starting to wear on me. I forced a smile. “Thanks. I’ll be ready.”

  Daiki leaned back, arms crossed. “Better hope you don’t mess up. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself on set.”

  I shot him a glare but didn’t bite. Not worth it.

  Before the tension could get worse, Jae-sung, still half-asleep, reached over and smacked Daiki on the back of the head. “Shut up, Daiki.”

  Daiki scowled, looking like he wanted to argue, but instead, he stood abruptly. “Whatever. I’m out.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

  We all sat in silence for a moment before Dak-ho sighed. “I’ll talk to him later. He’ll cool off.”

  Yoo, always the peacemaker, grinned. “So, about those new dance moves—Milo, you in?”

  I nodded, glad for the distraction. “Yeah. I don’t want to fall behind.”

  Kwan nodded. “We need to stay sharp.”

  Dak-ho clapped his hands. “Let’s eat and head to the studio. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

  With Daiki gone, the tension finally lifted, but I knew this wasn’t over. We’d have to deal with it sooner or later. For now, though, I had bigger things to focus on.

  ?Sky Mincharo