There are fifty thousand people out there, and she's pretty sure they're going to rip her limbs apart one-by-one. She's pushing one fist into the palm of her other hand, continuously kneading it in like that will rid her body of the overwhelming sense of dread crawling up her spine like a million spiders. She wishes they would sing to her like Charlotte or at least spin a fantastical web to distract the audience from their upcoming performance. The sticky feeling of the adhesive on her face has worn off, but she's sweating now, and she fears that the unique mask will slip right off and ruin everything they've worked so hard for. Glitter, glue, scar clay, and whatever else Lori could put together in her short two years of special effects makeup training. It can't be wasted. It can't be for nothing.

The MCs out on a remote stage in the middle of the lightstick ocean are making stupid puns and giving fake smiles to the camera as they stall while the staff prepares their elaborate stage, perhaps a bit too busy for rookies. The staff is moving erratically, hurrying to prepare the eccentric props. Fake blood is quickly spattered using a brush for painting houses. This was all her idea. Everyone is counting on her. This is their last chance to prove themselves before inevitable bankruptcy and disbandment. And what will that mean for Eun and the others? They just debuted, barely given the chance to show how they're intertwined with her group. Without NIGHTMARE, DAYDREAM's entire concept is for nothing, and vice versa. Everything they've been through, everything she and her members have been through...

They bring out the car on wheels. It's just a prop, but she feels a jolt in her heart when she sees it. Slight fire damage, silver paint scratched and beat up, smashed windshield. It reminds her so much of the real car that inspired this song, this comeback, this stage. They had only ever practiced with a cardboard vehicle. She breathes out once and stumbles where she's standing, suddenly grateful that she isn't in heels like most of the other girl group members that preceded their performance. And another thing: she knows that the audience is talking, making noise close to that of a dull roar, but all she can hear is ringing, kept close to her eardrum by the generic in-ear shoved in there.

Dani is quick to place a steady hand on her arm. She says something, but it's inaudible. She blinks a few times, looking up at Dani, who is much taller than most of the other people backstage. She takes a moment to admire the bloody design on her white mask."Sue? What's wrong?"

"I don't know, dude." Hearing herself speak, Susan suddenly realizes that she's been holding her breath this entire time.

Rena passes her some water, no particular emotion in her dark eyes. Susan can never guess what Rena is thinking. She accepts the plastic bottle with shaky hands.

"It's 'cause he's out there, right?" It's Lori who says this, her quiet voice such a contrast to the graphic injuries on her face, kept in place by the same adhesive used on Susan.

Susan can't even remember what her mask is, she can't remember what it looked like when she glanced in the mirror before being herded to Stage Left. She can't remember if the wig weaved into her real hair is black, purple, or maybe even blue. She thought it would feel different, being here at ACMA and performing in front of everyone: their small group of fans, seniors, juniors, strangers, and him. It doesn't seem to matter that nobody in this entire venue, save for her manager and the three other members of her group, knows what she truly looks like. The mask, the wig, the torn and bloodied school costume—none of it can convince her that she's safe, because the moment she steps onto that stage, she's sure he'll recognize her right away. Then it'll all be over.

"지금이야! 가, 가라!" Now! Go, get out there! Manager Nahae begins pushing the girls out toward the black, empty stage. Susan's heart begins to beat out of her chest. Pulsating, jumping, head to toe, and back again. Nahae is having to push her with so much force. "야, 왜 이래?" Hey, why are you stopping?

Susan feels a hand grab her wrist and yank it forward. She hears a slight pop and she gasps at a twinge of pain. But then she looks up and realizes that a sea of darkness is staring back at her. Rena continues to pull her over to the center where her position is. Before leaving her to go to her own spot, Rena whispers with urgency, "네가 먼저 말했어. 이번이 우리의 마지막 기회야. 이 경기장의 모든 사람은 잊어버리세요. 그날 밤을 생각해 보세요. 네가 왜 여기 있는지—우리가 왜 여기 있는지 생각해봐." You said it first. This is our last chance. Forget everyone in this stadium. Think about that night. Think about why you're here—why we're here.

And now Susan is alone in the center of the stage. She adjusts the microphone hovering just above her lips, focusing first on Rena's words, and then on the words he said to her that night. If you leave now—you can, you can...they won't see you. No backing track. My career is fucking over...it's over if they find us together. Two-thousand-four-hundred-and-sixty hours of dance practice. Get out! This is the last chance they have as rookies.

The MCs introduce their stage and the arena gets quiet with suspicious anticipation.

The lights go up along with the fast-paced guitar track to open their latest release. Susan and Dani weave around each other as Lori and Rena hurry over to complete the formation. Susan in the front, Rena and Dani on either side of her, and Lori in the back.

I don't know why I'm here tonight

Is it because I love you?

She dances as hard as she can while trying to keep her voice stable, mechanic moves when needed, and fluidity in her limbs when it's called for. Susan spins off to the side while Rena holds a screamo note, then hits a solid one in return while she's able to stay still. The three of them surround Lori in a triangle, facing her. Along with the music, they lift their hands above their heads and like blooming flowers, turn their hands and their bodies around, landing the beat on their knees and throwing their heads back. Their hands come out of their sides, twitching with an earthquake before they quickly get to their feet.

Your forehead is on the steering wheel

I've gone through the dashboard, baby

broken faces and broken airbags

did you want this to happen?

tell me to leave with a bloody scowl

you act like you're angry

you know it feels good to bleed out this way

It goes on, her feet and her body keep moving with muscle memory propelling her forward. Despite the post-hardcore-rock feel of her group's genre, she thinks that this could be it. Maybe this is when they'll finally get some recognition. She almost forgets a good portion of what she just did, and suddenly Rena is screaming, pushing her back toward the prop she's been dreading.

GET IN THE CAR!

The stage goes dark and the music stops, the sound of a car making an impact with another becoming louder than the music had been. Susan can't really hear much with the in-ear, but the sudden change in lighting almost makes her miss her cue. She feverishly climbs up the car to stand on the hood. The lights come alive, and she throws her head back, a bitter smirk dancing across her lips that she's not sure the audience can see as she sings her line. One of the cameras is right in front of her to catch her part before it moves down to capture Dani and Lori in a harmony of screaming and singing.

Susan does a backflip off the car, landing wrong on her foot. She bites back a yelp as she hits the ground. Without a second thought, she lifts herself just barely, feigning a struggle to make it look like her falling was part of the special stage's choreography. After getting to her feet she joins the other for the last chorus that dissolves into an ongoing uh oh woo uh oh woah oh.

While the other three sing that, Susan twirls into the center of another triangle to sing her high note, the high note that's supposed to capture the heart of the public. As her note fades, she drops to the stage and curls into herself, letting her limbs go limp.

The music continues playing while Dani stumbles up to the car and collapses against it. Rena has already gotten into the car and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. Lori crawls through the broken windshield, looking straight into the camera to sing the last words before she collapses on the hood of the car.

You didn't hear it from me

but love can be deadly

The music fades out and the last uh oh woo uh oh woah oh uh oh plays, the only part of a backtrack throughout the entire performance.

Susan lays there with her eyes slightly open, waiting for something. Anything. There is only silence, then the lights go down, and then rushed whispering erupts from the crowd. The girls get to their feet and run off stage so they can prepare for the next group. As soon as they're met with the blinding light of the backstage area, Susan allows herself to come back into her body. A stinging sensation tears through her ankle when she puts pressure on it, and she just now realizes that she's been limping since she fell. Her wrist, too, feels slightly jelly-like and disconnected. It's not inherently painful if she doesn't put pressure on it, but it's uncomfortable.

She's so preoccupied studying her injuries that she doesn't notice the staff members of the award show staring at them from the platform below. Not only are they staring, but they're muttering amongst themselves. Susan's anxiety shoots up her ankle into her chest. She doesn't have long to build up to a panic attack, though, because Nahae and their other manager, Sooyoung, are already beckoning them down the stairs to be level with the people who are clearly judging them, with good or bad thoughts she doesn't know.

It's happening so quickly and they're already on the way back to their dressing room that's unlike anything they've ever experienced before—being rookies hadn't landed them anything comfortable backstage at music shows. But award shows were different; they had an entire room to themselves and their group name was right above the door. Sooyoung supports Susan as they walk, promising her that they'll examine her ankle back in the room.

Walking down the hallway, Susan reads the names of the other performing groups aloud. "CVT." Lori begins to voice her concerns about the performance and Rena points out that Susan fell when she wasn't supposed to. "Lost Girls." Dani tells Rena to shut up because Susan might be seriously hurt. "여름남자들." Boys of Summer. Rena loudly rolls her eyes, but she doesn't say anything because a senior group is about to pass them. "Jostle—"

Susan stops, her fingernails digging into Sooyoung's shoulder. She shakes her off and asks what's wrong with her. Susan's eyes are locked on his, and he draws closer, almost as if he's walking straight up to her. She can't breathe. She knew this day would come. They would face each other again. It's here.

He smiled widely as he stops in front of their group. His members slow behind him but their manager doesn't seem to mind. "안녕하세요," Hello, he says and bows a respectable amount. "우리는 TV 화면에서 당신의 공연을 보았습니다. 너무 멋있었단다! 그런 건 무대에서 처음 봐요." We saw your performance on the TV screen. It was so good! I've never seen anything like that on stage before.

The other three fall silent as they realize just who is talking to them. Susan's blood is boiling. How can he act so nice and normal? She knows who he really is. People don't change that easily, not as far as she's concerned. But at least she knows now that he doesn't know who she is.

"감사합니다," Thank you, they say in unison and bow ninety degrees. Susan does so with a considerable amount of bitterness rising in her throat.

Another one of his members, one she recognizes as Jaeyoon, peeks his head out from the others—there are ten members of their group—and gestures toward Susan's foot, which is barely touching the ground. "괜찮아요? 일부러 넘어지신 거 아니에요?" Are you okay? Wasn't that fall on purpose?

Their manager barks at them that they're next on stage and that they have to go. After wishing them luck, the girls and their managers continue to their room, silent the rest of the way there. Susan doesn't even know how to feel. All she can do is stare blankly at the ground as they enter through the door, finally met with the consolation of being alone.