She wont go away | shin ryujin

Chapter 1

Y/N's pov:

I already regret taking this schedule.
Not because the studio isn't familiar ,  it is.
Not because the dancers are intimidating they aren't.
But because I know exactly who this practice is for.
ITZY.
I stand near the mirrors with the other backup dancers, rolling my shoulders slowly, listening to the low buzz of conversation around me. Mina is complaining about her knee again. Ara is braiding her hair, half-listening to a manager explaining formations. Someone laughs behind me, too loud for the hour.
I don't join in.
Not because I'm unfriendly .I just don't like getting comfortable too fast. I also don't really like being seen
When the staff member explains the structure of today's practice, I focus on her words instead of the nerves curling in my stomach. Main practice room. Full run-throughs. Same dancers for the week if everything goes well.
If everything goes well.
The door opens, and the room shifts.
I don't have to look to know why.
Idols don't enter rooms loudly. People make space for them without realizing it. Voices lower. Movements sharpen. Everyone suddenly remembers their posture.
I glance up.
They come in together ,relaxed, familiar with the space. Yeji smiles at the choreographer. Lia greets a manager by name. Chaeryeong bows politely to the dancers as she passes, and Yuna waves cheerfully at someone I don't recognize.
Then there's Ryujin.
She greets the staff first. Every single one. A small nod, a quiet "hello," a hand briefly raised in acknowledgment. It's not performative. It's natural.
That alone annoys me.
I don't know why , it just does.
Maybe it's because kindness like that feels effortless when you're already at the top. Maybe it's because I've met idols who do it for show, and she clearly isn't one of them.
I look away before I can think too much about it.
I'm here to dance, not analyze her personality.
Still, when we take positions, I feel it — the subtle shift of hierarchy. Ryujin stands confidently in the center, not claiming the space but owning it. I end up a step behind, slightly to the side.
Where backup dancers always go.
That's fine.
What isn't fine is the way she glances at me through the mirror.
Not curious. Not impressed.
Assessing.
Like she's measuring something.
I don't like that.

Ryujin's pov:

I'm in a good mood when we start practice.
Tired, yes ,but grounded. These days, I like practice more than performances. There's no pretending here. Just work.
I greet the staff out of habit, exchange a few words with the choreographer, and take my place as everyone settles in. Backup dancers are already lining up behind us some familiar, some new.
I always make a point to acknowledge them.
They're part of the stage too.
"Good morning," I say clearly, glancing back.
A few of them bow or nod. Someone murmurs a greeting back.
Then I notice one of them doesn't respond right away.
Not because she's rude ,because she's focused.
She looks up a second late, gives a small nod, expression neutral.
It shouldn't matter.
For some reason, it does.
There's something about her posture that feels... guarded. Not nervous. Not confident either. Like she's bracing herself.
I dismiss it and turn back around.
The music starts.
I move on instinct, counting automatically, aware of spacing and timing. The dancers behind us keep up well , better than expected. No collisions, no hesitation. That's good.
Except the girl behind me.
She's precise. Almost too precise.
She doesn't just follow. she corrects, adjusts, compensates. Like she's anticipating mistakes instead of reacting to them.
It's distracting.
Not because it's bad  ,because it feels like she's watching me instead of the choreography.
When the music stops, I glance back again.
She's already looking away.
I don't know why that irritates me.

Y/N's pov:

I can feel her attention like pressure on my back.
Not staring .not openly. Just enough to make me aware of it.
I hate that.
I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm not out of line. I'm not trying to stand out. But the way Ryujin moves, the way she holds herself, it feels like she expects something from the space around her , even unintentionally.
I don't want to give it to her.
During a short break, I sit with Mina and Ara, wiping sweat from my neck.
"She's nice," Mina whispers, nodding subtly toward Ryujin. "Always greets everyone."
"I know," Ara agrees. "Easy to work with."
I don't say anything.
I don't disagree either.
But something about the way Ryujin keeps glancing back  ,quick, controlled , rubs me the wrong way. Like she's checking for mistakes she expects me to make.
I straighten my shoulders when practice resumes.
Fine.
If she's watching, I won't give her a reason.

Ryujin's pov :

I tell myself to stop paying attention.
It's unprofessional.
Still, every time we reset, my awareness drifts backward. The dancer keeps perfect spacing . never too close, never lagging. Technically flawless.
Emotionally closed.
That's what it feels like.
When we break again, Yeji leans toward me. "The dancers today are solid."
"They are," I agree honestly.
"And that one behind you?" Yuna adds. "She's really sharp."
I nod. "Yeah."
It's the truth.
What I don't say is that sharpness feels like a challenge.
Not intentional , but present.
As practice wraps up, I thank the dancers out loud. It's instinctive. Respect matters.
"Good work today," I say.
Most of them bow, smile, relax.
The quiet one bows too , polite, distant, already reaching for her bag.
She doesn't look at me.
That irritates me more than if she had.

Y/N's pov:

When Ryujin thanks us, I bow like everyone else.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
I don't look up.
I don't want to.
As I leave the studio, I hear staff confirming schedules for the week. Same dancers. Consistency.
I exhale slowly.
Of course.
As the door closes behind me, one thought lingers, unwelcome and sharp:
She thinks she's better than me.
I don't know if it's true.
But it's enough to make me bristle.

Ryujin's pov:

Watching the dancers leave, I feel unsettled, not because anything went wrong.
Because nothing did.
The quiet one doesn't look back.
Doesn't hesitate.
Doesn't acknowledge me beyond what's required.
And for the first time in a while, I catch myself thinking something I don't like:
Why does it feel like she doesn't respect me?
It's probably nothing.
Just pride.
Just ego.
Still . when I hear the manager confirm she'll be back tomorrow, my jaw tightens slightly.
Not anger.
Something closer to challenge.