The Lost Sister 3
Pt.1 <- Pt.2 <- Pt.3
Warnings: Mild language, light teasing/flirtation, intense stares, underlying tension, creative process under pressure. No graphic content.
W.C: 4000+
N/A: YOU GUYS ARE NOT READY FOR THIS CHAPTER SO PLEASE BUCKLE UP! And please if you already ask me to add you to the tag list check if you user is already there, if no lmk 🫰🏻
When the elevator doors slid open, you stepped out into a spacious floor that smelled faintly of cologne and wood polish.
You clutched your sketchbook to your chest, expecting to see a manager or maybe a coordinator—but instead, five tall figures stood scattered across the room, like they’d just paused mid‑practice.
Your brows knitted. Wait… where’s the manager? Why am I seeing… them?
One of them—dark hair tucked slightly behind his ears, calm presence radiating from him—stepped forward first. His voice was smooth, assured.
“You must be Y/N. I’m Jinu.”
Leader‑like. Solid. He held your gaze with an intensity that made you straighten your posture without thinking.
Before you could even process that, another figure approached—broad shoulders, sleeveless training tank showing off ridiculous arms. He grinned wide, unashamed, hand extended.
“Abs—uh, Abby. Nice to meet you!”
Your eyes darted, just briefly, to the way his biceps shifted when he moved. Holy—okay, focus, Y/N. Focus.
To your right, a softer laugh chimed in. Pinkish hair fell in delicate waves, eyes warm and mischievous.
“Romance,” he said with a little flourish of his hand, almost like a bow. “It’s an honor.”
He lingered just a second longer, gaze sweeping your face like he was already memorizing details.
Another presence hovered at the edge of the group. His hair—silvery lilac—fell over his eyes completely, hiding them from view, leaving only the angle of his jaw and the faint curve of his mouth visible.
“…Mistery,” he murmured, voice low and almost reluctant. He gave a small nod, hands hidden inside the sleeves of a faded lavender crewneck.
Last was the mint‑haired boy leaning casually against a chair, arms crossed over a simple tee and training jacket. There was a boyish curve to his lips, but something sharper behind his eyes.
“Baby,” he said simply, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he already knew something you didn’t.
You blinked, gripping your sketchbook tighter.
“I… wow. I thought I’d be meeting with a manager, not…” You gestured vaguely at them. “…you guys.”
Romance chuckled, leaning closer with that teasing smile. “Surprise. We like to be… hands‑on.”
Abby let out a short laugh. “Sorry if we caught you off guard.”
Jinu tilted his head, tone steady. “We wanted to meet the person they said could design something special for us.”
And just like that, five sets of eyes were on you, each different—curious, amused, analyzing. You swallowed, nerves fluttering in your stomach, but you forced a smile.
“Well… I guess I better not disappoint, then.”
You opened your sketchbook, fingers brushing across the blank page.
“So… you said you’re debuting soon, right? Do you have the track ready?”
Jinu exchanged a glance with the others before nodding. “We do.”
Romance gestured toward a nearby speaker, his tone lilting. “Do you want to hear it now?”
“Yes, please. Music is everything when it comes to design. I need to feel it.”
Baby arched an eyebrow, that little smirk tugging at his lips again. “Feel it, huh?” His tone was light, but there was something behind it—something unspoken, something watchful.
You ignored the way your stomach flipped. “Yeah. Clothes have to move with the beat. They need to… tell the same story.”
A low hum came from Mistery. “…Story,” he repeated softly, almost like tasting the word.
Romance tilted his head, eyes glittering. “I like that.”
They played the track. The first notes burst through the speakers—bright, electric, full of pulse and color. Your pencil moved almost before your mind caught up, sketching silhouettes, lines flowing with the rhythm.
“Stand up,” you said suddenly, glancing up at them.
“Hm?” Abby blinked, halfway through stretching his arm.
“I need to see you,” you explained, already waving your pencil. “How you carry yourselves, your proportions, how you move.”
They stood. Jinu’s posture was relaxed, confident in the simplest way. Abby adjusted his sleeveless tank, stretching his arms in a way that very obviously showed off the sculpt of his abs and biceps. You bit back a laugh, cheeks warming. Romance shifted with a dancer’s grace, fingers brushing the hem of his hoodie, always with a touch of flair. Mistery stayed still, shoulders slightly hunched, his arms still hidden beneath long sleeves—he clearly didn’t like them exposed. And Baby? Baby was effortless, leaning back in his joggers and loose T‑shirt, projecting comfort and ease but with eyes that followed every stroke of your pencil.
“Okay…” you muttered, letting yourself fall into the design.
Soft pink under white layers for Jinu—clean and straightforward, like him.
A bold Hawaiian print for Abby—because of course he’d want to show skin, a little edge, a little fun.
Flowy yellow for Romance, with hearts stitched into places no one would expect—playful and poetic.
For Mistery, layered textures, turtlenecks and arm warmers, giving him privacy yet presence.
And Baby—oversized softness, pinks and aquas, jeans with structure but not tight.
Your pencil flew, and soon colors filled the page, every detail dancing to the beat still echoing in the room.
Fifteen minutes later, you turned the sketchbook around, heart pounding.
“There,” you breathed. “Your debut.”
For a heartbeat, none of them spoke. Then Abby let out a low whistle. “Whoa.”
Romance leaned in, his smile curling. “You caught the vibe…”
Jinu’s eyes met yours, dark and steady, and a slow smile spread across his face. “You caught the song,” he said softly, “and you caught us.”
Something in the way he said it made your pulse jump. It wasn’t just about the music or the designs. It was like he was telling you, in that layered tone, that you had their attention now—completely.
Baby’s smirk deepened as his gaze flicked from the sketchbook back to you, something unreadable in his expression. Mistery gave a quiet nod, a murmur slipping past his lips, “…Good.”
Romance straightened, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve, his eyes sparkling with a teasing glint. “Well, designer, looks like we’re in good hands.”
Abby grinned, flexing just slightly as if to check how the drawn sleeves would look. “These are sick. And hey—thanks for not putting us in skinny jeans.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “You’d hate me forever if I did.”
For a moment, the room was easy, lighthearted… but behind their smiles, those five pairs of eyes watched you with a curiosity that ran deeper than you could imagine.
Your chest swelled with pride. “Thank you.”
Baby’s fingers tapped lightly on the table, that smile never fading. “I think… we’re going to enjoy working with you.”
You met his eyes—and that smirk did it again, made your stomach flip. You looked away quickly, gathering your pens.
Romance chuckled, leaning closer as he brushed an invisible speck off your shoulder. His voice dropped low, warm. “Careful, sweetheart… we might not let you go after this.”
Your breath caught. You shot him a look, half amused, half flustered. “I think you’ll have to, at some point.”
“We’ll see.” The way he said it made the air feel warmer, thicker.
You packed your things, your mind still buzzing with adrenaline and… something else.
Jinu walked you to the elevator again, his steps quiet, his presence steady.
“Thank you for today,” you said softly.
“Thank you,” he replied, eyes holding yours a second longer than necessary. “See you soon, (Y/N).”
The doors closed, and you leaned back against the elevator wall, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
As the doors shut behind him, the group remained around the table, the light from the windows catching on their features.
Abs crossed his arms, grinning. “She’s good. And she’s got guts.”
Romance hummed in agreement, his long bangs swaying as he tilted his head. “She sees people. That’s… rare.”
Mistery let out a low sound—half chuckle, half hum—his mouth curving faintly.
Baby tapped a finger on the table, his smile gentle but eyes glinting with thought. “She doesn’t know.”
Jinu lowered himself into his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. His voice was calm, almost thoughtful. “No. She doesn’t. Not yet.”
Abs leaned back, chair creaking. “That might be better. For now.”
Romance’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Yes… for now.”
They fell into a quiet rhythm, each lost in their own thoughts, each feeling the subtle pull of something new, something dangerous—or perhaps, something they didn’t yet understand.
---
The elevator chimed softly as you stepped into the apartment, the city lights spilling in through the tall windows like melted gold. Your tote bag was heavier than usual, filled with fabric swatches and folded receipts, but your chest felt light. Today had been good—really good.
The faint scent of ginger and soy drifted down the hallway, guiding you to the kitchen. Mira’s long pink hair, falling in a silky curtain down her back, swayed as she stood at the stove. She was focused, stirring something in a large pan, her sleeves rolled up. Zoey sat cross‑legged on the counter, swiping pieces of cabbage from a plate, and Rumí leaned back against the fridge, scrolling through her phone.
You adjusted the strap of your bag and stepped into the warm light.
“Hey, I’m back ” you greeted softly.
Mira’s head lifted, her smile immediate, warm enough to banish the fatigue in your shoulders. “You’re back.” She set the spoon down and turned slightly, the length of her hair sweeping like a pink river. “I was starting to think the fabric shops kidnapped you.”
A little laugh escaped you. “They tried, but I escaped with the loot.” You placed the bag down and began pulling out swatches—soft cottons, layered sheers, textured knits—arranging them on the table.
Zoey let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s… a lot.”
“Just in case,” you murmured, running your fingers over a lilac fabric to calm the restless energy building in your chest. Too much attention on you always made your stomach tighten.
“Are you working on something new for us?” Mira asked, curiosity light in her voice, not accusatory.
You hesitated, your pencil already in hand out of habit. “Maybe. Just… some ideas.”
They seemed satisfied with that, Zoey nodding as she popped a piece of carrot into her mouth.
“Tomorrow’s going to be crazy,” Rumí said, setting her phone down. “The stage team texted Bobby. Everything’s locked in.”
“Lighting’s ready, and Bobby already double‑checked the accessories.” Zoey tapped the counter rhythmically. “We’re actually ahead of schedule for once.”
“Costumes look amazing under the new rig,” Mira added, pride softening her voice. “You’ve really been a miracle worker, Y/N.”
Your cheeks warmed, though you kept your eyes on your open sketchbook. “Thanks…”
The pencil glided across the page almost on its own—long limbs, layered fabrics, shapes that matched the rhythms you’d memorized from the boys’ demo track. You blocked out details, lines sweeping into a flowy blouse with heart‑shaped accents, wide sleeves, layered textures. Your mind flickered back to earlier: Jinu’s quiet attentiveness, Abby’s confident grin as he’d stretched and unconsciously flexed his arms, Mistery’s way of subtly pulling at his sleeves as if to hide his skin, Baby’s lazy slouch hiding that sharp glint in his eyes, Romance’s deliberate little gestures that dripped style.
Your heart jumped suddenly at the clang! of a pan dropped into the sink. You flinched before you could stop yourself, shoulders tightening, breath catching. Mira glanced over, concern flickering across her face, but you forced a smile. “It’s fine,” you whispered, lowering your pencil.
It wasn’t just the noise—it was the memory it triggered, that instinctive jolt in your gut. Too many nights growing up when a sudden slam meant raised voices, things breaking, hunger twisting through you because you hadn’t eaten, because control felt safer than food. You pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the graphite in your hand.
“You’re zoning out,” Zoey teased lightly, drawing your attention back.
You closed the sketchbook a little too quickly, hugging it to your chest before they could see. “Just doodles,” you said softly, trying to sound offhand. “Nothing important.”
Rumí tilted her head, but her smile stayed easy. “You’re always drawing something…”
Mira nodded, her long hair slipping over her shoulder as she turned back to the pan. “That’s Y/N for you. Let her have her secrets.”
They brushed it off, going back to their chatter about tomorrow’s rehearsal, and relief seeped into your lungs. You excused yourself quietly, slipping down the hallway to your room.
Inside, you sank onto your bed, sketchbook still in your arms. The soft hum of the apartment surrounded you, but your thoughts spun.
Why didn’t I just tell them?
You could see Mira’s proud smile in your mind, but also her protective frown. Better to wait. Let the boys debut, let the work speak for itself.
Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping you out of it. You reached for it, expecting some update from Bobby—
Unknown Number: Thank you again for today. You really impressed us. :)
You blinked at the message. Your heart kicked once, sharply.
You: Who is this?
A second later:
Unknown Number: It’s Jinu. From earlier. :)
A laugh slipped from your throat, surprising even you.
You: How did you even get my number?
Jinu: I have my methods.
You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite the warmth in your cheeks.
You: Suspicious… and kinda creepy, don’t you think?
Jinu: Okay, okay. Your card was in the folder they gave us. But “methods” sounds cooler, right?
Your smile deepened—he was sweet, unexpectedly so. Before you could reply, a new notification popped up: a voice message.
Curiosity bubbling, you pressed play.
“Wait, don’t press—hey! It’s recording—” That playful tone was definitely Romance, followed by a loud laugh—Abby’s, without a doubt.
“Move over—Y/N, hi! This is—” A scuffle, a grunt.
“Don’t say our names, you idiot!” snapped a sharper voice—Baby’s, soft but cutting underneath.
A low murmur followed—Mistery, quiet, indecipherable. “Stop crowding the phone—seriously—” Jinu’s steady voice rose above them, then another ripple of laughter before the audio cut off entirely.
You burst out laughing, pressing the phone to your forehead. They were chaotic. And weirdly endearing.
Y/N: You all are ridiculous
An idea struck you.
You: Hang on. Send me their numbers too—I’ll make a group chat. Easier for everyone to yell in one place.
Jinu replied almost immediately with four contacts, each with a tiny emoji. You created a group titled, Work in Progress 🎨🎤 and dropped them all in.
You: Hi… I thought this might be easier than emails for fittings and updates
Jinu: Told you she’s cool. You’re quick, Y/N. Appreciate it. :)
Romance: Ahh, now we can talk to her directly? My day just got better.
Abby: So, when do we get our first fitting, boss?
Mistery: …hi.
Baby: Group chat. Dangerous. I like it.
Romance: I like the name… it feels artistic. Did you pick it yourself?
YN:…Yeah. It was the first thing that came to mind.
You sat cross‑legged on your bed, staring at the screen as messages pinged one after another. For the first time in a long time, your chest felt light.
Jinu: We just wanted to say thanks again. Today was… impressive.
YN: You’re welcome. I’m glad it helped.
Abby: Helped? You literally sketched five full outfits in like… fifteen minutes. With color.
Baby: Do you have superpowers or something?
YN: …No. Just practice.
Romance: Or maybe you were inspired by us? 😉
You hesitated, biting back a nervous laugh.
YN: Maybe by the song. It has a clear vibe.
Romance: A vibe and… maybe a little more? You caught the song and you caught us.
For a second you stared at the screen, unsure what to say. Your heart gave a small, startled jump before you typed carefully:
YN: I just do my best to read the concept… nothing more.
Jinu: Still, not many can do that so fast. It got our attention, that’s all.
Baby: Attention is good. It means we’re working with the right person.
Mistery: …mm. (a simple sound, but enough to make you imagine him nodding)
Abby: Can’t wait to see what else you’ve got.
YN:…Thank you. I’ll try to live up to that.
Their words filled your little room with laughter you didn’t know you needed, and as you hugged your sketchbook close, you let yourself believe—just for tonight—that you could do this. That you were more than your past, more than your scars. And that maybe, just maybe, this new thread you were weaving might turn into something beautiful.
Romance: Oh, we don’t doubt it. But no skinny jeans, right? My knees like to breathe.
YN:…Don’t worry. I wouldn’t do that to you.
You noticed the three laughing emojis that followed and couldn’t help a small smile.
Jinu: Rest up, Y/N. Big days ahead.
YN: Goodnight, everyone.
Abby: Night!
Romance: Sweet dreams, Muse.
Mistery: …Night.
Baby: Goodnight.
Jinu: Night, Y/N. :)
You set your phone aside, a warmth settling low in your chest.
They were playful, yes, but there was no pressure, no sharp edge in their words.
For once, the chatter didn’t feel like noise—just soft threads weaving into something new.
—-
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Part 4