The girls on the other side of the door speak loudly, not one of them worried about being overheard. I lean my head against the flimsy wood, my movements so subtle they barely make a sound.
"I bet she's confident she's going to debut in the new group, that's why she didn't turn up for practice today." Said a voice that sounded like it belonged to Grace.
"Yeah, she's probably out celebrating while the rest of us work our asses off. Wish I had a famous friend who could bring me this much attention. And don't you think the timing is just too convenient. Dalia dies and suddenly the whole world knows that she was childhood friends with Jina."
I stiffen as I recognise that voice almost immediately. Jinyoung, more commonly know as JinJin has had it out for me since the beginning. She's always hated that I never catered to her every whim and fancy like the other trainees did.
JinJin has connections in our company. Her uncle is one of the biggest investors at Firefly and it's obvious she throws her weight around because of it. I've just never been the type to suck up to someone so I've kept our relationship cordial without licking her boots all these years.
Sadly simply being nice hasn't stopped her from resenting me and the other trainees with a similar mind set. Although the resentment has grown exponentially within these past few days.
"Are you saying she's lying about her friendship with Dalia?" Someone else speaks up.
"I mean there is such a thing as editing apps. I'm just saying," JinJin concludes, leaving her words open to interpretation and my blood boiling.
I want to kick this door open and tell her to get a life but my one and only friend, Binna speaks up for me.
"Come on. Be realistic. If the photos were doctored that would have come out by now. Knowing Dalia's fans. We all know how obsessive and thorough they are. Jina isn't lying about this and she didn't leak it to the media. We all know Mr. Oh did."
"Yeah, whatever. I saw her on the live broadcast today at the funeral. Her legs looked really big and flabby. She shouldn't have worn a dress," Rachel, JinJin's right hand man answered.
I know she's lying but I instinctively look down at my legs and twist my ankles to check my calves. Does this dress really make me look bad?
My lip trembles and I bite it instinctively. Why do I always let these girls get to me?
"Ya, she looked kind of fat. The executives are not going to be happy about that," Grace agrees and I take this opportunity to push the door open, ending their conversation.
All twelve trainees look up at me with big beady eyes and innocent expressions like they all weren't just talking shit about me. Only Binna looks pissed but she covers it up quickly and smiles at me. I'm guessing she doesn't want me to know about their conversation.
Too late for that.
"Hi, Jina. Where were you? We missed you at practice today," JinJin says sweetly and most of the girls nod in agreement as they stare at me inquisitively. I notice all of them are still dressed in their sweats and t-shirts from practice.
They have sweat stains under their armpits and down their backs. Although, JinJin still manages to look effortlessly beautiful even with her dyed hair matted to her forehead and baggy Adidas t-shirt. Her cheeks are bright pink and her light brown eyes are narrowed on my face as she waits for my answer.
"I just got back," I lie through my teeth, not wanting to tell them I had just spent an hour plus with non other than Jiho, while they were dancing their asses off in the studio. That would only make them hate me even more. I now thank my lucky stars that they didn't catch us on the way back.
I had lost track of time and my surroundings whilst we were together and that wasn't a good sign. I can't let my guards down especially when they are people eager to get rid of me any chance they get.
"Really? I thought the funeral service ended hours ago." Grace just had to butt in, didn't she. Her baby face and large doe-like eyes give the illusion of childish innocence but I will never be foolish enough to fall for that.
She's every bit as cunning as JinJin.
I scratch my head and stare at the cans of diet soda piled up in the middle of their circle. Why am I the one being put on the spot? These vultures were bitching about me only a few seconds ago and now they are breathing down my neck like I'm the one in the wrong.
I look around and my heart sinks. There's not much of a fight when it's twelve to one, unless I count Binna but she's staring at the floor silently so I doubt she'd be much help. Not that I blame her. It's never a good idea to go up against JinJin.
"It was pretty jammed up at the memorial service, took a while to get out. The other guests there had a lot of fans and that created really bad traffic. Anyway, I'm going to go wash up and head to bed," I say, hoping they will buy my excuse and leave me be.
"Come on. Tell us about it. Did you see TBT? I saw them on Tv and they looked so good," Rachel gushes and the others chime in agreement.
"I barely saw them. Didn't talk to anyone besides Mr. Oh. I don't really know anyone there guys."
"My God, you're boring," JinJin sighs.
"Come on. She's tired. Give her a break. It must have been overwhelming being in that place with all those people. And all those crazy Dalia fans outside the centre," Binna speaks up quickly but her tone is soft as she tries to diffuse all the tension percolating in the room.
"Yeah, must be tiring getting your pictures taken and sitting in a room full of celebrities," JinJin says vehemently. She then wipes the sweat laden hair off her forehead exaggeratedly, making it seem like she has the right to be tired not me.
I wish there was a separate staircase that leads straight to my room, then I wouldn't have to deal with this unnecessary stress on a daily basis.
"I just feel. I don't know how to explain it. I just really need to shower," I gesture at my clothes and the girls finally stop their nagging.
"Never mind you can fill us in tomorrow," JinJin says and the others nod.
I slip into my room and my legs give way as I slide to the floor. Binna was right, today has been overwhelming. Images of Dalia's picture perched above her closed casket fill my mind and my vision becomes blurry.
A tear slides down my face and I wipe it away quickly. It takes me a moment to realise that there's no one here in this room, no one here to judge me for crying. Meeting Jiho was a good distraction, talking to him, eating fried foods and drinking a sugary drink was the perfect escape I needed. I can't believe it actually happened.
I can't believe I allowed it to happen. What would have occurred if one of the girls had caught us? I already know what the repercussions would be. Dating was strictly forbidden. Even though it was far from a date, Jiho belongs to a popular boy group and I am still a trainee.
And I can already guess who'd be kicked out of the company for so called banned behaviour.
My arms wrap around my legs and my fingers dig into the back of my thighs as I sob silently. Did my legs really look that bad on camera? Is that why the executives ordered for me to skip practices today so that I wouldn't be photographed?
These seeds of doubt cloud my mind and fill it with poison as I stare ahead at the wall above my bunk bed. Pictures of my family are pasted on the plain white wall, giving it some colour and there at bottom left is the picture of a young Dalia and I.
We had followed out fathers fishing and caught our very own herring. I can see the happiness in our faces as we hold the hook up with our catch of the day. Now only one girl in that picture can still smile.
"Was it worth it?" I speak to her picture. "Was your life really so bad?"
My voice is filled with anger and I feel like ripping out her picture and bringing her back to life. I unzip my dress and shrug it off violently, eager to get it off my body. I don't want to mourn Dalia, not when I still can't believe she's gone.
Even after attending her funeral, seeing her grieving family and her casket, a part of me still refuses to accept it.
She's the reason I went down this path. The person who inspired me to get through all these arduous years with these unbearable girls. I don't want to admit it, but there's a huge part of me that feels lost.
Like I'm having an out of body experience, witnessing something that doesn't make any sense to me.
Dalia was happy. I know she was. Right?
I walk up to the small computer they allow us to use after hours and switch it on. I then go to the tab that says favourites and click on the YouTube link that I've watched repeatedly for the past few days.
I remember this performance like it was yesterday even though this Tokyo Dome concert happened three years ago. It was the day that changed Dalia's life. The performance that catapulted her into superstardom and made Sweet Poison a global phenomenon.
My heart calms when the video starts and I look on into the darkness. There is a singular light, shining on a sleek black piano forte. The light refocuses and only then do I see Dalia sitting by the piano in a sheer black gossamer gown that flows to the floor like waves of smoke.
She starts to sing and her voice is hauntingly beautiful. The crowd falls unusually silent and her voice carries across the entire stadium like a spell. No one moves, even I hold my breath as her notes rise in a melodic crescendo. Her eyes are closed the entire time but the emotion in her voice brings more tears to my eyes.
Once she hits the high note that raises goosebumps on my arms, she opens her eyes and stares right into the camera. I recognise it as the viral moment that circulated in the media for weeks. Her contacts were a deep magenta but they looked so natural like they had been made for her to wear.
The gothic gown and reddish eyes made her look almost demonic but everything from the song, her voice, her get up and the stage drew the audience in like a black hole. There was no escaping her gravitational pull even if we wanted to.
It was the first time Dalia showed the world who she really was. She wasn't the bubbly, cheerful type of Kpop idol people were used to. She was shy, reserved, dressed mostly in chic black, named herself after a famous murder victim and she sang with emotion people had never heard before.
She was a mystery everyone wanted to solve.
The video ends and I am about to replay it when I hear a soft knock on the door. I grab my towel, wrap it around my torso and unlock it.
"Binna, I'm sorry I'll take about five minutes," I say quickly, feeling bad for making her wait outside the room we share.
She places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. Her face softens with pity when she sees my tear stricken one. "Take your time. I can shower in Jiwoo's room. I just came here to give you this."
She holds out a pile of letters and places them in my palm.
"What's this?"
"Fan mail." She smiles cheekily.
"You're kidding," I whisper in disbelief.
"You better believe it baby girl. You're famous."
"This is crazy," I mutter.
"This world is crazy," Binna replies and then she pushes me inside. "Now go and shower. You stink."
She shuts the door, giving me my privacy and I tear through the letters, not believing that they are fan mail. But all of them are addressed to me, stating their admiration for me and how I looked good at todays service. Some wish me good luck for my debut while others pray for me to stay strong during these tough times.
My heart fills ever so slightly and I clutch them in appreciation.
My fingers graze a black, gothic designed letter that reminds me of Dalia's outfit during the Tokyo Dome concert and I notice it is thicker that the others.
I open it up to see encouraging words but there is an obvious bulge in the centre, like there is something else inside. I turn it around and then upside down but nothing falls out. I then touch the centre of the card and sure enough there is something hidden between the layers of paper.
I tear it open and a small piece of paper falls to the floor soundlessly.
Curiosity floods my veins as I bend down and I pick it up. I unfold it and my breath stills.
Dalia didn't kill herself. She was murdered.