A/N: Here's the long awaited chapter 1! I want to aim to write as much of the film into each chapter so that the story doesn't go on for so long. I also got some awesome news that I have been accepted into an art University this morning! So that's exciting.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the songs or characters except the MC and their effect on the plot.
Word count: 4200
// Prologue // Part 1 // Part 2 //
Neon signs flickered overhead as the city was shadowed by the night sky. The streets of Seoul were quieter at this hour—just the occasional honk, the low hum of passing scooters, and the dull chatter of night owls echoing in the distance.
She walked alone, the click of her boots against pavement steady and unhurried. One hand tucked in the pocket of her leather jacket, the other holding her phone. The screen glowed softly, casting pale light against her face.
A photo. Then a video. Then another.
Two girls beside her, laughing, singing, dancing under spotlights in a smoky backstage room. Their voices blended perfectly, harmonies sharp and hypnotic. That was before it all fell apart. Before the Rainbooms. Before the silence.
Her thumb hovered over a video thumbnail. She hesitated, then tapped.
The three of them were standing on a rooftop, hair whipping in the wind, singing against the skyline. She could almost hear their voices even before the sound kicked in—her sisters, vibrant and untouchable. For once, having genuine fun. No twists. Or lies.
Now, just memories trapped in pixels.
Her jaw tightened. She could feel it again—that empty ache in her chest. Not grief. Not anymore. Something colder. Sharper.
I’ll make them remember you. I’ll make them regret ever breaking us.
She was about to lock her phone when it hit her.
A sudden, crushing wave of energy—cold and heavy—slammed through the air like a silent explosion. Her breath caught in her throat, eyes wide and mouth agape. The world around her seemed to slow.
A sweeping surge of red and pink light washed over the city, as if some immense force had shattered an invisible barrier—something straight out of an anime. Only now did she notice it: a soft blue glow shimmering above the city, like a shield that had just fractured.
It wasn’t just her imagination. The negativity—rage, sorrow, jealousy—it was everywhere, leaking from the shadows like ink in water. The city's warmth drained slowly, dissolving into the chill of an encroaching nightmare.
Her crystal, tucked beneath her shirt, flared hot against her skin.
She looked up, eyes narrowing.
Something was happening in Seoul.
And this time, she wasn’t going to run from it.
The next day, in a luxurious penthouse in the heart of Seoul, three women lounged amidst a spread of food, intently watching the latest episode of their favorite TV show, The Bop On Top. The screen lit up with the show’s vibrant intro, boldly displaying the title: The Bop On Top, as it segued into an exclusive interview with the newest idol group on the scene—DAZZLXN.
“Today, on a very special episode of The Bop On Top-”
The silhouette of a mystery idol appeared in the middle of the screen.
“-we’re talking about overnight superstar, DAZZLXN (dazzlin).”
A light fixture shines to reveal a face behind DAZZLXN. You. Leaning against your idol name. Their latest music video; ‘Watch Me Work’, started playing on the screen.
“Never gets old no matter how much I'm told I'm amazing.”
The screen cuts to a scene of the woman swimming in a big pile of diamonds. Two women step out from behind you in unison, their choreography was razor‑sharp, mesmerizing.
One had blue striped hair in a high pony tail with bangs, and magenta eyes. She had a dark magenta jacket with rolled-up sleeves and turquoise buttons arranged in two vertical rows. Underneath, she had a red, studded tie and a black undershirt. She wore a short, light purple-pink skirt with visible stitching lines and tall, hot pink boots with light purple cuffs and white soles and toes. She has pink-purple spiked bracelets on both wrists and a necklace with a thick black band that holds a red gem in the middle.
The other woman had waist long striped purple hair in twin high pigtails with silver star-shaped hair clips. She wore a pale green sleeveless shirt with spiky green shoulder accents, dark magenta-purple bell-bottom pants decorated with rows of white circular studs on the front and a silver star-shaped buckle with purple bands. And finally, dark shoes with white toes. On her wrists were dark purple wristbands and around her neck was the same necklace as the other woman.
The shot cuts to all three seated in a row of chairs on stage, the two newcomers flanking the center confidently. In the next instant, the scene shifts to them cruising in a sleek red convertible, wind in their hair and smirks on their faces.
“You’ve got to work hard-”
The scene cuts again to them riding the back of a cgi tiger.
The scene shifts to the blue- and purple-haired women strutting down a catwalk in luxurious, tiger-patterned outfits. With feline precision, they drop to all fours, prowling forward like sleek predators, their movements bold, unapologetic, tempting and sexy.
“You got to live fast to keep making that money. If you want to be as famous as me. You’ve got to work-”
The leaderboard for best songs appears on the screen showing ‘Watch Me Work’ as number one.
“-Got to work. Got to work.”
In the final quick cut, our mysterious lead sits in a sleek red leather chair, leaning forward with a smirk, one finger pointed at the screen as she sings along.
“So, what do you want to know? I’m an open book.”
The interviewer beams with excitement, leaning forward in her seat. She's a striking woman with shoulder-length black hair, warm brown eyes, and a fair complexion, all polished off with a sharp, tailored business suit.
“Okay, well. Who are some of your biggest influences?” She asked.
“My biggest inspiration? Hmph! I’d have to go with me.” Our idol looks smug with her legs crossed.
The screen flashes back to the previously shown leaderboard, then transitions to the coveted Korean Music Awards cube-shaped award as its significance and the criteria to win it are explained.
“Well, one thing’s for sure. After 2 months on the scene, the superstar trio will receive the prestigious Korean Music award. That’s celebrating having the best music of the year.”
For the last time, the screen cuts back to the interview being streamed.
“Next question. Who are those two talented and amazing women that were singing by your side?”
Our singer pauses, a flicker of sadness and grief crossing her face. On the screen, the two women appear—blue-haired on the left, purple-haired on the right—like ghosts from a memory.
“Those are my sisters; Sonata and Aria. We go way back.”
The interviewer leans back slightly, pausing as she carefully considers her next words.
“Alright then. Last question. How does DAZZLXN stay the biggest superstar South Korea has ever known?” The interviewer leans in and whispers, “what’s your secret?”
“It’s simple really. It just takes lots of hard work and loads of natural talent.”
“Well, you heard it here folks! Stay tuned for later this evening to watch some of our most famous K-Pop members participate in a game show!”
The camera slowly pulls back, revealing the full set and live audience as DAZZLXN and the interviewer continue chatting warmly with each other. As the credits begin to roll, the screen gradually fades into the title card—before abruptly cutting to a commercial break.
The three girls sat on the sofa, mouths agape and narrowed eyes. It was clear—this new idol knew exactly what she was doing, and she was good. Mysteriously, though, little was known about her which made her suspicious. The ladies were all thinking the same thing - she’s a demon
Rumi leaned forward first, breaking the silence. “I’m telling you—no normal idol is able to pull off such fast growth in the music industry. She had to have done something!”
Zoey frowned. “You think she’s a demon?”
Rumi turned to Zoey, a frown on her own face. “She didn’t show any signs of not being human.”
Mira remained quiet, replaying the details in her mind. “Did you hear the hum beneath her voice?” she asked finally. “There was something layered there. Not background audio. It was… something else.”
The other two turned toward her.
A shadow passed over Rumi’s face as she stood and started to pace the room. “Rewind the show. Maybe we missed something. Something small, a-a detail we may have missed.”
Zoey grabbed the remote and rewound the interview to the very beginning, the TV casting a soft blue glow across the room.
“There,” Mira said sharply, leaning forward and pointing. “Pause it—right there. Just before she smiles.”
Onscreen, DAZZLXN sat in her red leather chair, the stage lights dancing across her features. For a split second—barely noticeable unless you were looking for it—her eyes shimmered, not with reflected light… but with an unnatural glint of green. A glow.
Rumi inhaled through her teeth. “That’s not lighting.”
Mira stepped closer to the screen, narrowing her eyes. “But it’s not a demon flare either…That’s gold. This is something else.”
Zoey frowned. “Then what is she? If she’s not a demon, and she’s definitely not just human…”
Rumi scrolled through her tablet, pulling up archived footage and reports. “No registration with an agency, no formal idol training background. No public history before her debut six months ago and the creation of her company to support her. It’s like she just appeared. You think she comes from a rich family?”
With that theory discarded, the girls were left with more questions than answers. Whoever — or whatever — this new idol was, she didn’t fit into any category they knew.
Rumi’s eyes narrowed with resolve as she clenched her fist. “Then we watch her. Track her moves. We figure out what she is… before it’s too late.”
The others nodded in agreement, already moving with purpose. One by one, they disappeared into their rooms, emerging moments later in sleek, low-profile outfits—hoods up, sunglasses on, masks on and identities hidden. It was time to move through the city like shadows.
If this idol was hiding something, they were going to find it.
“Let’s keep it subtle,” Mira murmured as she checked the hallway through the peephole.
“No problem,” Zoey replied, adjusting the brim of her bucket hat. “We’re just three normal girls… totally not tailing a supernatural pop star.”
Mira rolled her eyes but said nothing, already focused as she pulled the apartment door open.
They stepped into the dim corridor, locking the door behind them with a soft click. Silence fell between them as they descended the stairwell, the weight of uncertainty settling on their shoulders.
And behind them, in the dim living room bathed in blue light, the TV still glowed.
The screen remained frozen on DAZZLXN, her emerald eyes flickering with secrets.
The glass doors of the news station slid open with a soft whir, letting in a gust of warm, midsummer air. The midday sun gleamed overhead, casting sharp reflections off the glass-paneled buildings and making the pavement shimmer.
Our big shot idol stepped out into the daylight like a scene from a dream—flawless, composed, untouchable. Her sleek black heels clicked with each purposeful step, drawing glances from every direction. The faintest glimmer of crimson sparkled at her neck.
Phone cameras from nearby pedestrians angled toward her, hoping for one more candid after her live interview—an interview that had just left the nation buzzing.
But she didn’t slow down.
Waiting at the curb was her motorbike: a sleek, obsidian BMW R 1300 RS with sharp red accents that gleamed under the sun. She moved toward it with measured steps, eyes hidden behind tinted lenses, planning to grab her helmet and continue on with her day.
But standing directly between her and the bike were four men—tall, stylish, and visibly stunned. Their formation wasn't intentional, but it was enough to block her path. Their conversation halted the moment they spotted her.
“Yo… that’s her,” one of them muttered under his breath. Recognition flickered in their eyes. She was the new idol—the one Gwi-Ma had told them about.
The men were dressed in coordinated clothing, clearly they were all part of the same group—stylized in bold fabrics and complementary tones. The purple long haired mutt had a sleeveless lavender crop top with light high-waisted jeans, yellow arm warmers, and a yellow tight fitted undershirt tucked into his jeans. The baby-faced wore a bright pink fuzzy sweater with a diamond pattern, layered over a pale blue undershirt, paired with lavender skinny jeans and finally a yellow beanie.
Mr.MyDickIsTooSmallSoIMakeUpForItByHavingAHugeEgo decided on a Hawaiian t-shirt with roses, paired with high-waisted pale blue jeans and a yellow belt and beanie. And finally, the long pink haired hippy wore a loose long-sleeved yellow shirt with heart shaped buttons, paired with lavender skinny jeans and pink hearts on each cheek. Each of them was adorned with a variety of accessories—rings, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings—adding a touch of flair and individuality to their already eye-catching looks.
When she stopped just a step away, she exhaled sharply—barely containing her irritation.
They didn’t. Whether it was hesitation, shock, or sheer arrogance, none of them stepped aside.
Her patience ended there.
Without missing a beat, she stepped forward and shoulder-checked the Hawaiian shirt one—hard. He staggered back a step with a surprised grunt. She brushed hard past the second one with blue hair, forcing him to catch himself before he lost his footing.
None of them dared speak.
She strode straight to her bike, slipped her sunglasses into her pocket, and grabbed the helmet from the seat.
“Tch,” she scoffed, brushing invisible dust off her jacket. “If you’re going to gawk, at least do it from the sidelines.”
In one seamless motion, she slid it on. The sun caught the curve of the dark visor just as it snapped shut, hiding her expression behind polished obsidian.
She swung one leg over the bike and kicked it to life—the engine roaring like thunder. With one final glance over her shoulder—more like a warning than a farewell—she revved the throttle and peeled off down the street, the BMW vanishing into the midday light.
Behind her, the Saja Boys stood stunned in silence until Baby cleared his throat.
“That’s the one, right?” Baby muttered. “The idol Gwi-Ma warned us about?”
Abby didn’t answer immediately. His gaze followed her with surgical focus. “Yeah. That’s her. DAZZLXN.”
“She didn’t even acknowledge us,” Romance murmured with his mouth agape, watching her disappear into the flow of midday traffic.
“That was hot,” Baby said, sucking on a lollipop. Abby and Romance shot him identical looks of disgust.
Mystery remained silent, his mind already racing through possible theories about who she really was. His gaze stayed locked on her every movement, analyzing her with the precision of someone used to putting pieces together.
The four men were left standing in the heat, stunned and blinking. None of them moved as her silhouette shrank into the distance. The tension in the air didn’t dissipate—it lingered.
The noon sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting a golden haze over the street. The soft murmur of vendors calling out their deals mixed with the clatter of cooking pans and the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts, tteokbokki, and sugared pastries. Seoul's street market was in full swing—bustling, alive.
Our idol weaved her way through the stalls with quiet purpose, hands in the pockets of her black bomber jacket. Her eyes scanned the food carts absently, more focused on the warm energy of the crowd than the actual snacks. She wasn’t sure what she was in the mood for—maybe something spicy. Or sweet.
She passed a stand steaming with hot dumplings when something caught the edge of her senses.
Her head jerked to the side, eyes narrowing as three figures turned the corner at the far end of the street.
Her pulse spiked. She knew those faces. Knew what they were capable of. They didn’t look threatening now, trying to sneak past civilians in their awful disguises.
Instinct kicked in before thought. She ducked behind a tall display of hanging dried herbs and seaweed, slipping into the shadows between two stalls. A vendor glanced at her curiously but said nothing. She kept her head low, back pressed against the cool brick wall.
Footsteps approached, light and casual. The girls were talking about a “doctor” who could heal Rumi’s voice. Interesting.
They eventually passed. Letting out a breath once their voices faded when they went down an alleyway.
She exhaled slowly and stepped out, brushing off a stray strand of kelp clinging to her sleeve. Her eyes wandered to the wall beside her, where a colorful poster was half-peeled from the bricks.
“SAJA BOYS - LIVE PERFORMANCE - 11AM - MYEONGDONG SQUARE”
Bold letters stretched across a pink background with a lion positioned in the middle. She stared at the poster for a long moment.
A smirk tugged at her lips, just slightly. A performance? Perfect. Hidden in the crowd, she could stir just enough chaos to draw power—quietly, effortlessly. No one would even see it coming.
She adjusted her jacket and turned away from the wall. If the poster was correct, then that meant the performance would be happening very soon.
Without hesitation, she slipped into the stream of people heading in the same direction, the buzz of anticipation crackling in the air like static. As she turned the corner into Myeongdong Square, the distant thrum of bass greeted her.
A wide-open plaza bathed in soft pink fog stretched out before her, the haze curling along the ground like a stage curtain rising. A growing crowd buzzed with excitement—then, through the mist, five men stepped forward into the spotlight as it gradually disappeared.
She lingered just at the edge of the crowd, blending into the flow of onlookers.
“Don’t want you, need you. Yeah, I need you to fill me up!”
Her eyes sharpened. Something about the way they moved, the way the energy shifted around them when they danced—it wasn’t normal. The crowd’s excitement was too dense, too euphoric. Like a spell.
That’s when she spotted them—Mira, Rumi, and Zoey. They weren’t far, weaving through the edge of the audience with a cardboard box in Rumi’s hands. The three looked focused yet visibly angered, their eyes pulled toward the stage where the Saja Boys had begun their routine.
“Masigo maysyeo bwa do, Seonge chaji ana.”
They didn’t notice her. Not yet.
She watched as an elderly woman shoved past the girls, only fueling their anger, and rushed toward the lead singer—someone she hadn’t seen before until now. The lead singer seemed to blast the woman backward with a single dance move, sending her tumbling into two other elderly ladies.
“Got a feeling that, oh yeah (Yeah). You could be everything that I need!”
She lowered her gaze, turned slightly, and drifted deeper into the mass of spectators. With careful steps, she slipped behind a taller group clustered near a vendor cart, letting the wall of people shield her from view.
She had no intention of being spotted—not yet.
“Taste so sweet (Yeah, yeah). Every sip makes me want more, yeah.”
The rest of the band jumped in, the energy building. Behind them, the big screen lit up with a close-up of the lead singer’s mouth as he took a swig from a pouch—one he’d swiped from the girls—who now realized what he’d done and frantically began counting the box’s contents.
Her eyes locked on them as they struck confident poses throughout the song, their movements in sync, unnaturally perfect.
“Can't let go, no, no, not tonight.”
That gentle voice of Mr. Mysterio’s made him just enough cuter than the rest.
What the hell am I doing?
“They’re competition,” she muttered under her breath, retreating further into the shadows of the crowd. “And they’re suspicious as hell.”
She crossed her arms, her stance steady, calculating—every bit the predator behind the smile. She knew the game wasn’t about charm. It was about control. And she had no intention of losing it.
Then it hit her. The beat was rising again—brighter, bolder, the kind that always came before the chorus. She glanced down at the pendant around her neck, hidden beneath her shirt but faintly pulsing. The crowd’s energy was electric. And she didn’t need to steal the spotlight to harness it.
She slowly uncrossed her arms, tilted her chin up slightly, and let the melody pass through her lips—quiet, in harmony, just beneath the sound of the boys on stage. A hum that wouldn’t draw attention, but would still ride the wave of emotion swelling around her.
Looking around, she noticed the crowd had tripled in size since the start of the performance, and everyone was utterly entranced. At their feet, a green fog swirled and began flowing toward her necklace.
The boys on stage suddenly began conjuring hearts out of thin air, launching them like playful projectiles that knocked people back with a surprising force. She barely dodged one hurtling straight at her. Glancing toward the Saja Boys, she caught the black-haired singer locking eyes with her—his gaze sharp and unreadable, like he was silently weighing her presence and deciding what to make of it.
Eventually he turned away, slipping seamlessly back into the rhythm of the dance as if she hadn’t even been there. But then, faint and almost imperceptible to anyone else, strange patterns began to ripple across the boys’ skin—resembling traditional Korean talismans (bujeok). They almost resembled tiger marks.
The baby-faced performer began rapping, his voice unexpectedly deep for his appearance. As the beat carried on, he and his crew started spreading acts of kindness—helping a woman with her corndog, handing out presents to delighted children.
Moments later, the pink fog returned—thicker, swirling wider than before. From within it, the top of a giant soda can emerged, rising from the ground to form their new dance stage. The sudden spectacle was so startling that even the siren fell silent, her song cut off in surprise.
As the Saja Boys leapt into the air atop the massive soda can, a burst of pink energy rippled outward like a wave, sweeping across the area. In an instant, the cityscape transformed—gritty buildings softened into pastel hues, the world around them shifting into a vibrant, cartoony dreamscape. Fans gasped in awe, rushing to rooftops and balconies, eager to catch a better glimpse of the surreal performance.
It was… warm yet with a cold undertone. A sharp contrast to the icy tension that had gripped the city the night before, when that ominous red wave had swept through, leaving a chill that settled in both the streets and the hearts of its people.
“You’re my soda pop. Gotta drink every drop.”
With one final synchronized move, the Saja Boys struck their signature pose, glittering lights erupting around them as the beat faded. The crowd roared, their cheers echoing through the pastel streets like a celebration of something more than music.
She noticed when the lead singer at the center lifted his gaze, locking eyes with the HUNTR/X member. A flicker of tension sparked between them—silent, but unmistakable. As she shifted her focus back to the rest of the group, her eyes caught something else: the one called Mysterio was glancing her way, his expression unreadable.
Behind them, the giant screen lit up with dazzling colors. Bold letters flashed across it:
“-See you tonight on everyone’s favourite variety show. Saja Boys love you!” Mr. IAmSmugBecauseICausedAnIssueEarlierWithHUNTR/X shouted, earning another round of excited screams.
All five boys struck a final pose, their hands forming heart shapes just as a burst of pink smoke swirled around them, cloaking them from view. When the haze began to clear, they were gone—vanished like a dream. Behind them, the giant screen lit up in bold, vibrant pink letters:
Before changing to show their logo, a stylized lion’s face, sleek and modern, combining elements of traditional Korean iconography with futuristic flair. The lines are sharp and symmetrical, giving the lion a regal but edgy look.
A lion for their logo, how fitting.
The plaza erupted in cheers once more, fans lifting their phones high, the excitement swelling like another wave. The HUNTR/X members left in a hurry—like someone had just remembered they left the stove on.
It gave her a moment to think.
In the six months since DAZZLXN had debuted, she had never heard of the Saja Boys. Not once. And yet here they were, commanding the stage like seasoned idols. No banners. No agency staff. No promotions. It was as if they’d appeared out of thin air.
Something was going on. And if she wanted to survive whatever this was, the siren would need to start being careful.
She planned to use tonight’s variety game show as a chance to observe them—without drawing attention to herself. The show was being broadcast nationwide, and after today’s performance, she knew one thing for sure: the Saja Boys were about to blow up—fast.
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