Winter Lights And Hidden Rivalries.
1004 Words
CHAPTER 1 — Winter Lights and Hidden Rivalries
The winter sun barely rose above Seoul’s skyline, casting pale golden light over glass skyscrapers and streets slick with ice. Snow had fallen overnight, leaving soft blankets over rooftops, cars, and lamp posts. The city looked almost magical—like a giant diorama—and yet, inside the bustling rehearsal building where young entertainers trained, the magic felt distant.
In Studio 3A, seventeen-year-old Jimmy Frost paced in front of his band, Starlight Pulse. His pale hair brushed his forehead, and the icy blue jacket he wore contrasted sharply with the warmth and energy of the studio. Every step he took was deliberate, measured, and precise—mirroring the control he demanded from the band.
“Again, from the top!” he called, his voice calm but firm. “Precision counts more than emotion. Every note, every step, every glance must be perfect. If it isn’t perfect, we fail—not just on stage, but in the world that’s waiting outside these walls.”
His words weren’t meant to inspire fear. Not exactly. They were meant to establish authority. His band members, loyal and devoted, nodded silently, adjusting their positions. There was admiration in their eyes. Jimmy’s reputation as the Frost Prince was well-earned—he was sharp, unflinching, and demanded excellence—but admiration never crossed into warmth. That was his private domain.
Jimmy glanced at the mirrored wall, watching his reflection as he moved through a complex dance combination. His movements were precise, cutting through the air with an almost sculptural grace. To the casual observer, he was flawless. But inside, a storm raged—a storm of expectations.
His parents’ voices echoed in his memory. “You must maintain the family image. You will inherit the Frost Corporation. You will behave with dignity. Your career as an entertainer is temporary.”
Jimmy’s jaw tightened. Temporary. That word burned. Performing wasn’t temporary to him—it was life itself.
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Meanwhile, across the hallway in Studio 3C, the atmosphere was entirely different. Loud music, laughter, and energetic claps bounced off the walls. Jane Laurent—with her bright red braids and fierce determination—moved in perfect rhythm with Scarlet Echo.
“Faster! Louder! Feel it!” she shouted, voice cracking with passion but never breaking. Her bandmates mirrored her energy, their steps precise yet bold, their smiles fearless.
Jane was fire in human form: impulsive, vibrant, and impossible to ignore. While Jimmy’s presence demanded attention through stillness, Jane demanded it through energy.
Yet even as she danced, her mind flickered to one person: Jimmy Frost. Her rival. Her nemesis. That boy who always seemed cooler, faster, sharper. Who made everything about performance look effortless. Who annoyed her more than anyone else she had ever met.
They were two sides of the same coin—both raised in wealth, both pressured by families, both brilliant performers—but because of that, they could never see eye to eye.
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The truth was hidden from the world. Their bands had no idea, their managers only suspected, and their fans assumed harmony between these two leaders. The rivalry had existed for years, buried under politeness and hidden behind smiles.
But small sparks often found their way to the surface. Today, those sparks were about to appear in unexpected ways.
After rehearsal, both bands were allowed a break. Seoul’s cityscape, dusted with snow, beckoned. Jimmy suggested a walk. Jane’s band decided to explore too. It wasn’t intentional—they just wanted fresh air—but fate had other plans.
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Exploring Seoul
Jimmy’s group wandered down Insadong, famous for its traditional tea houses, street art, and small shops selling handmade crafts. Street performers sang carols and traditional Korean folk songs, drawing small crowds. Jimmy, usually reserved, allowed himself to notice the beauty—the intricate hanbok patterns displayed in windows, the smell of roasted chestnuts, the delicate snowflakes settling on the pagoda roofs.
One of his bandmates asked the street performer about the song, and Jimmy listened quietly as the man explained, “This is a winter song, handed down for generations. It’s about hope and enduring hardships.” Jimmy felt a subtle chill that had nothing to do with the snow.
Meanwhile, Jane’s group wandered near Gyeongbokgung Palace, watching the guards in ceremonial robes perform the changing of the guard ceremony. Jane marveled at the precision, the history, and the colorful flags waving in the cold wind.
“Look at that,” she said, pointing to a miniature snow-covered bridge inside the palace grounds. “Even the smallest things here are beautiful. Every detail matters.”
Her bandmates took photos, laughed, and tried traditional street snacks like tteokbokki and hotteok. Jane even attempted to speak a few polite phrases in Korean to a vendor, earning a surprised smile. For a moment, she forgot the rivalry simmering in her chest.
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First Glimpse of Each Other
By coincidence, both groups converged near Cheonggyecheon Stream, a popular spot for winter lanterns. The lights reflected off the water, creating a kaleidoscope of colors.
Jimmy turned a corner—and froze. Jane was there. Standing in the soft glow, holding a cup of steaming tea, laughing with her bandmates.
Jane looked up and froze as well. Her mind whispered, Frost.
No one else seemed to notice, but for them, the air shifted. Their eyes met across the stream. Both felt the familiar pulse of rivalry—and something else. Curiosity, maybe. Recognition that the other wasn’t as simple as they thought.
Jimmy nodded slightly—an almost invisible gesture. Jane raised her cup in return, the faintest acknowledgment.
Neither spoke, but the unspoken words hung in the air: We’re rivals, yes—but we’re also… alike.
And in that moment, the snow continued to fall, covering Seoul in white. The city glittered, full of history, warmth, and possibilities.
For Jimmy and Jane, the winter lights illuminated more than streets—they illuminated the beginning of a journey neither could predict.
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- Writer
