Chapter Text
The PD approached as the cameras lowered, his expression softening from professional detachment to genuine concern. "Before we begin, I want to assure everyone that your safety is our top priority. We have staff stationed at regular intervals along both paths, and emergency response teams are on standby."
He gestured to their backpacks. "Each pack contains a walkie-talkie pre-programmed with emergency channels. One press of the red button connects you directly to our safety team. We've also positioned medical personnel at both the halfway points and the cabin itself."
Pulling out a tablet, he showed them a detailed map marked with small blue dots. "These indicate staff positions. You're never more than two minutes from assistance, even if it might feel isolated at times."
The tension visibly drained from several members' shoulders. Mina, who had been quietly fidgeting with her sleeve, relaxed her death grip on the fabric.
"Is everyone comfortable proceeding?" he asked, making eye contact with each member. "We can modify the routes if needed."
After receiving nine nods of varying enthusiasm, he waved the teams toward their designated guides.
The groups separated to inspect their gear, each gathering around their respective mountain experts. Seungho crouched beside Team Jihyo's packs, methodically removing and explaining each item.
Meanwhile, Team Jeongyeon's guide, a cheerful woman named Miyeon, was explaining their supplies with equal thoroughness.
Each pack also contained high-energy snacks, water purification tablets, backup batteries for their communication devices, and small tools they'd need for the activities planned over their four-day stay.
"Remember," both guides emphasized, "these aren't just props for filming. Everything in your packs serves a specific safety or survival purpose. We'll be teaching you to use each item properly throughout your stay."
As the members shouldered their packs, adjusting straps and testing the weight distribution, their initial nervousness began transforming into cautious excitement. Even Mina was sneaking peeks through her binoculars, while Dahyun had already started naming all her emergency gear like they were pets.
"Fighting!" Jeongyeon called out with exaggerated sweetness, waving her trekking pole like a royal scepter. "Try not to roll all the way back down the mountain!"
"Just wait until we beat you to the top!" Nayeon shouted back, though her bravado wavered slightly as she eyed the steep incline.
"I'll make sure to document your suffering from multiple angles!" Jeongyeon promised, already positioning her phone. "The fans will love this!"
"Yah! No evidence!" Jihyo protested, but she was laughing despite herself.
As the cameras prepared to roll, Momo caught Sana's eye across the clearing. Something soft and private passed between them - a tiny nod from Momo, a gentle smile from Sana that spoke volumes. Be careful. Take care of yourself. I'll see you at the top.
"And... action!" the PD called out.
Seungho immediately shifted into instructor mode, demonstrating the proper zigzag technique for steep ascents. "Remember, crossing the slope at an angle reduces strain and maintains better balance."
"Like skiing!" Mina observed quietly, already mimicking his movements with natural grace.
"Exactly," he confirmed. "Though hopefully with less speed and more control."
Meanwhile, Miyeon was leading Jeongyeon's team toward their gentler path, her voice carrying back clearly. "The secret to long-distance hiking is finding your rhythm. No need to rush - steady progress beats bursts of speed every time."
"Did you hear that?" Jeongyeon called out one last time, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "No need to rush! We'll wait for you at the cabin!"
"Save your breath for climbing!" Nayeon shot back, but she was grinning. Some things never changed - their competitive banter felt as natural as breathing, even with cameras rolling.
The teams finally separated, each disappearing into their respective trails as the winter sun climbed higher in the crystal-clear sky. The only sounds remaining were the crunch of snow under boots and the occasional burst of laughter echoing across the mountain slopes.
Seungho gestured for them to form a single line, positioning Mina at the front where her natural athleticism could set a sustainable pace. Sana fell in behind her, followed by Jihyo, with Nayeon bringing up the rear. The initial grade felt manageable, almost deceptively gentle as they established their rhythm.
"Notice how the snow changes?" Seungho called out, moving alongside them with practiced ease. "The old ski run's borders have grown wild. Without regular grooming, you get these natural variations."
He demonstrated with his pole, probing the snow at the slope's edge. "See how it's deeper here? Wind-deposited snow tends to collect against the tree line. And over there—" he pointed to a slightly discolored patch, "that's where morning sun hits differently. The snow structure changes completely."
Nayeon watched intently as Jihyo copied his technique, her pole revealing subtle differences in the snow's resistance. The leader's natural studiousness emerged as she asked detailed questions about each variation they encountered.
"The middle section still shows traces of the old grooming pattern," Seungho explained, "but nature's been slowly reclaiming it. That's why we probe as we go - every step could be slightly different from the last."
The group unconsciously tightened their formation as the slope began to steepen, their poles creating a rhythmic pattern of soft crunches in the snow. Mina's graceful movements made the technique look effortless, though beads of sweat were already forming at her temples.
Jihyo opened her mouth to ask Seungho another question about the snow patterns when movement caught her peripheral vision. She turned just in time to see Nayeon's foot break through what appeared to be solid ground, the snow suddenly giving way beneath her. Without thinking, Jihyo lunged backward, her hand catching Nayeon's arm as she stumbled forward.
Time seemed to slow as Jihyo steadied Nayeon, their bodies pressed close by necessity. Nayeon's breath came in short gasps, whether from the near-fall or their proximity impossible to tell. Their eyes met, and for a moment the mountain disappeared - there was only the warmth of shared body heat, the ghost of familiar touch, and years of complicated history hanging in the space between their thundering hearts.
"Air pocket," Seungho's voice cut through the moment as he quickly moved to investigate. "Old ski runs sometimes develop these where drainage patterns have shifted. Good catch, Jihyo-ssi - this is exactly why we test the snow as we climb."
"Are you both stable?" Seungho asked, reaching toward them with a steadying hand.
"We're fine," they answered simultaneously, the familiar synchronization making them both freeze. Jihyo took a half-step back, but her hand remained on Nayeon's arm, fingers curled protectively around the thick fabric of her jacket. Their eyes met again, and something flickered in Nayeon's expression - a flash of vulnerability quickly masked by her usual brightness.
The moment stretched, weighted with unspoken words, until Jihyo's thumb unconsciously brushed against Nayeon's sleeve in a gesture so achingly familiar it made them both catch their breath. It was the same automatic comfort she'd offered countless times before - in practice rooms, behind stages, during late-night conversations - but now it felt charged with new meaning.
A gentle gust of wind swirled snow around their boots, breaking the spell. Jihyo's hand fell away slowly, almost reluctantly, leaving a phantom warmth that seemed to burn through all the layers between them.
Nayeon watched the transformation happen in slow motion - the way Jihyo's features shifted like scenes changing in a drama. First came that flash of genuine worry, the instinctive protectiveness that had defined their relationship for so many years. Then the remembering. Nayeon could pinpoint the exact moment Jihyo recalled why they weren't supposed to be touching, why that automatic care needed to be locked away behind professional distance.
The mask slipped into place with practiced precision - that particular blank expression Jihyo had perfected over the past few weeks. It was a watered-down version of Jihyo's anger, one Nayeon had grown familiar with lately, carefully contained but unmistakable to someone who knew Jihyo as well as she did.
But there - just before Jihyo turned away - Nayeon caught it. A tiny crack in the facade, a millisecond where Jihyo's eyes betrayed something raw and uncertain. It vanished so quickly Nayeon might have imagined it, swept away as Jihyo squared her shoulders and resumed her position on the trail with mechanical efficiency.
The camera crew struggled to maintain steady shots as they climbed alongside, their equipment adding another layer of complexity to the already challenging ascent. A drone buzzed overhead, capturing the zigzagging path they carved into the pristine snow.
"These backpacks feel like they're filled with rocks," Sana panted, adjusting her straps for the tenth time. The heavy winter gear amplified every movement, turning simple steps into energy-draining exercises.
Glancing over her shoulder, Sana caught Jihyo's eye. "At least we'll have amazing legs after this, right?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, drawing an immediate laugh from Jihyo.
"Is that your secret workout plan?" Jihyo teased back, her earlier tension momentarily forgotten. "Convince the company to film more mountain specials?"
"Maybe!" Sana's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I didn't expect to sweat this much in snow. My makeup's probably completely ruined."
"You'd still look perfect even covered in snow," Jihyo assured her, grateful for Sana's ability to lighten any moment. "Unlike some of us who turn into tomatoes when we exercise."
Sana giggled, pretending to flip nonexistent long hair. "I'm going for the 'winter goddess' concept today."
Their laughter echoed across the slope, causing Mina to glance back with an affectionate smile. Even the cameraman couldn't help grinning as he captured their playful exchange, though his arms trembled slightly from holding the heavy camera steady on the incline.
Nayeon's carefully maintained idol smile slipped as another blast of icy wind whipped across her face. Her thighs burned with each step, and the thin mountain air made her chest tight. She'd lost count of how many times they'd zigzagged up the endless slope, each turn promising to be the last before revealing yet another stretch of pristine, mockingly steep snow.
A bead of sweat rolled down her temple, threatening her meticulously applied makeup. The cameras wouldn't catch it in this light, but she could feel her foundation beginning to crack in the harsh winter air. Her bangs, usually perfectly styled, stuck damply to her forehead despite the cold.
Instinctively, she turned to her right, where the forest stretched thick and dark between them and the other trail. In the past, she would have turned to Jihyo first, knowing her leader would indulge her complaints with fond exasperation. But that wasn't an option anymore. And somewhere in those trees, Jeongyeon was probably strolling along, cracking jokes and taking embarrassing photos. The familiar ache of wanting to whine to her best friend rose in her throat, but for once, there was no one to indulge her complaints.
The trees swayed gently, and Nayeon could almost imagine she heard Jeongyeon's distinctive laugh carried on the wind. She pictured their other members walking comfortably on level ground, probably already planning which selcas to post later. The thought made her pout deepen before she caught herself, remembering the cameras tracking their every expression.
But maintaining her usual bright energy felt impossible as exhaustion settled deep in her bones. Each time she lifted her foot, the snow seemed to grip her boot possessively, as if the mountain itself was determined to make this as difficult as possible. Without Jihyo or Jeongyeon to dramatically commiserate with, the physical strain felt somehow lonelier, more intense.
Jihyo noticed the unusual quiet behind her, the absence of Nayeon's typical running commentary feeling almost louder than words. Years of variety show instincts kicked in before she could second-guess herself.
"Yah, Im Nayeon!" she called out playfully over her shoulder, her voice carrying the familiar teasing lilt that had flavored countless broadcasts. "What happened to our vitamin leader? Don't tell me a little snow conquered the great Nayeon-unnie?"
Nayeon's head snapped up, genuine surprise flickering across her features before her natural performer's instincts took over. She let out an indignant gasp, waving her trekking pole like a conductor's baton. "A little snow? This isn't snow - this is Mount Everest's evil twin in disguise! My legs have officially filed for divorce from the rest of my body, citing cruel and unusual punishment."
She staggered exaggeratedly, drawing delighted laughter from the camera crew. "And this backpack! Who packed this thing? Did someone secretly fill it with all our awards? Because I swear it gets heavier with every step!"
"That's more like it," Jihyo grinned, the familiar rhythm of their banter temporarily overshadowing everything else. "Keep complaining - maybe the mountain will get tired of your whining and just carry you to the top."
Nayeon's eyes glinted mischievously as she pretended to consider this seriously. "You know what? I bet if I just sat down right here and looked pitiful enough, one of those emergency response teams would have to come rescue me." She patted the snow beside her invitingly. "Care to join my protest against cruel hiking conditions? We could start a movement - Idols Against Unreasonable Slopes."
Jihyo chuckled, shaking her head as she extended a hand to Nayeon. "Come on, drama queen. The cabin's just around that bend - I can see it from here." Her voice softened with encouragement. "Besides, think of the selcas we'll take up there." She tugged playfully at Nayeon's sleeve.
Nayeon gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to her chest. "Is that all I am to you now - just another idol chasing the perfect Instagram moment?" She grabbed Jihyo's outstretched hand but stayed firmly planted in the snow, pulling a face. "I'll have you know I'm suffering for my art here."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, miss Influencer," Jihyo rolled her eyes, tugging harder at Nayeon's hand. "If you're done with your one-woman protest, I'd really like to get to that cabin before we both freeze into snow sculptures. Though..." she paused, pretending to consider it, "that might actually boost our social media engagement."
For a brief, shining moment, it felt like before - like nothing had changed between them. Jihyo's hand was solid in hers, an anchor against the biting wind and burning muscles. The familiar cadence of their teasing banter wrapped around her like a favorite blanket, chasing away the mountain chill.
Nayeon let herself be pulled upright, savoring the gentle strength in Jihyo's grip. How many times had those same hands steadied her through exhausting practice sessions, late-night recordings, moments of doubt? Even now, with this unnamed tension stretching between them, Jihyo's instinct to support, to encourage, to care shone through like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
She could do this - would do this - if only to see that proud little smile Jihyo always tried to hide when any of them pushed through their limits. The mountain air felt sharper in her lungs now, invigorating rather than depleting. Each step carried her closer to the warmth of that cabin, yes, but also toward something else - something that felt remarkably like hope.
"You first," Jihyo gestured, stepping aside to let Nayeon pass. "I'll catch you if you start rolling backward."
"Such faith in my climbing abilities," Nayeon huffed, but her eyes crinkled with amusement as she took point.
Seungho fell into step beside Jihyo, his movements deliberately casual as he matched her pace. "You handle them well," he observed quietly, nodding toward Nayeon's determined figure ahead. "The way you knew exactly how to motivate her - that comes from years of leadership, doesn't it?"
"Ah, sometimes they just need a little push," Jihyo replied modestly, though warmth colored her voice. "Or in Nayeon-unnie's case, someone to dramatically complain to."
"Still," he pressed gently, testing the waters, "it's impressive how you read each situation. Earlier, with Mina's hesitation at the first steep section - you didn't coddle her, just stood close enough to offer silent support." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "That kind of intuitive understanding... it's rare."
Jihyo glanced at him, surprised by the observation. "You noticed that?"
"I notice a lot of things," he admitted, his professional tone softening slightly. "It's part of being a guide - reading people, anticipating needs. Though I suspect you understand that better than most."
Their boots crunched rhythmically in the snow as Jihyo considered his words. Ahead, Nayeon had started humming determinedly under her breath.
"How long have you been doing this?" Jihyo asked, genuinely curious. "Leading groups up mountains, I mean."
"Eight years professionally," he replied, carefully stepping over a partially buried branch. "Though I've been climbing since I was a kid. My father..." he hesitated, then continued more quietly, "he taught mountain rescue. I grew up learning to read weather patterns instead of bedtime stories."
Something in his voice made Jihyo turn toward him, catching a flicker of old emotion before his usual calm demeanor returned. "That must have been intense," she offered softly.
"It was," he agreed, then added with a slight smile, "though probably not as intense as debuting as a teen."
Jihyo's step faltered slightly. "You know about that?"
"Basic research before any guide assignment," he explained quickly, though his ears had reddened slightly. "It helps to understand clients' backgrounds, their comfort levels with physical challenges."
"Right," Jihyo nodded, fighting an inexplicable urge to smile. "Very professional."
"Exactly," he agreed, perhaps a touch too enthusiastically.
Above them, Nayeon's humming had evolved into a determined muttering that sounded suspiciously like "left foot, right foot, don't die, left foot..."
"Hey, I think I can see the cab-" Nayeon's voice trailed off as she twisted around, the playful announcement dying in her throat. Her eyes landed on Jihyo and Seungho below her on the trail, their heads tilted toward each other in quiet conversation, matching gentle smiles playing across their faces. Something cold that had nothing to do with the mountain air settled in her chest, tugging her mouth into a slight frown.
Her gaze met Jihyo's, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. She watched confusion flicker across Jihyo's features. Nayeon didn't wait to see what would follow. She turned back to the path ahead, her shoulders set in a rigid line as she forced herself to focus on the remaining climb.
Behind her, she could feel Jihyo's eyes lingering on her back, even as Seungho's voice continued its low murmur. The weight of that gaze felt heavier than her backpack, pressing against her spine with each step forward.
Sana's trekking pole clattered against the icy surface as her foot slipped, the metal shaft threatening to skitter down the slope they'd worked so hard to climb. But Nayeon's reflexes were faster, her boot pinning the runaway equipment before it could escape.
"Thanks, unnie," Sana breathed, steadying herself against Nayeon's offered arm. Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them - acknowledgment, understanding, a hint of shared guilt.
"It's nothing," Nayeon murmured, but her eyes were soft as she retrieved the pole. She remembered how gentle Momo had been in Jeongyeon's bathroom that night. The memory still ached, but watching Momo's quiet joy around Sana these days made it easier to bear.
Sana squeezed her arm once more before accepting the pole, her bright smile carrying a depth that few got to see. "We're here," she encouraged, nodding toward where the slope finally began to level out. "Just a little further."
A collective sigh of relief echoed across the plateau as Team Jihyo finally crested the ridge, their boots crunching on more level ground. The cabin's wooden frame rose before them, smoke already curling invitingly from its chimney. But it was the scene around the unlit fire pit that drew their attention - and their indignation.
Team Jeongyeon lounged in comfortable folding chairs, snacks spread across their laps, looking for all the world like they were at a casual weekend camping trip rather than halfway up a mountain. Tzuyu was mid-laugh at something Chaeyoung had said, while Momo appeared to be demonstrating some elaborate story with expansive hand gestures.
"Well, well, well," Jeongyeon drawled, stretching languorously in her chair. "Look who finally decided to join us. We were about to send out a search party - or at least some carrier pigeons with encouragement notes."
"You..." Nayeon panted, pointing an accusing finger, "are the actual worst."
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you over how comfortable this chair is," Jeongyeon grinned, patting the armrests with exaggerated satisfaction. "You should try one - oh wait, you have to catch your breath first, don't you?"
Sana collapsed dramatically at Momo's feet, sprawling in the snow. "I can't believe you've been sitting here this whole time while we were fighting for our lives on that cliff."
"Fighting for your lives?" Dahyun snorted. "We watched you through binoculars. You stopped for like, three photoshoots."
"Those were strategic rest breaks!" Nayeon protested, but she was already moving to steal half of Jeongyeon's chair, squishing herself into the space despite loud complaints. "Besides, someone had to document our epic journey for posterity."
"Is that what we're calling it?" Chaeyoung teased. "Because from where we were sitting, it looked more like an elaborate comedy show. Especially that part where you tried to start a protest movement halfway up."
"The fans will love it though," Tzuyu added thoughtfully. "Jeongyeon-unnie got some really good shots of you all zigzagging up the slope."
"You didn't," Jihyo groaned, finally reaching the group with Mina and Seungho close behind.
"Oh, I definitely did," Jeongyeon smirked, already pulling out her phone. "Look at this masterpiece - I call it 'The Evolution of Jihyo's Will to Live.'" She swiped through a series of photos, each showing Jihyo's increasingly disheveled state as they climbed. "See how the perfect idol pose slowly transforms into pure survival mode? This one's my favorite - right when she realized we were only halfway up."
"Delete those!" Jihyo lunged for the phone, but Jeongyeon deftly held it out of reach.
"No way! This is prime content. Look, I even caught the exact moment you tried to pretend you weren't out of breath. Classic Park Jihyo - still trying to maintain leader dignity while basically crawling up a mountain."
Jihyo's lower lip jutted out in what Nayeon had always privately categorized as her 'deadly cute' pout - the one that usually preceded either complete surrender from whoever she was arguing with or total chaos. There was no in-between.
"Actually," Seungho interjected, stepping forward with a small smile, "Team Jihyo's performance was quite impressive for that grade of slope. Most beginners take nearly twice as long on that section, especially with the unstable snow conditions we had today."
His eyes lingered on Jihyo as he continued, "Their technique was remarkably good - especially the way they maintained proper spacing and consistently tested the snow stability. Very professional."
Jeongyeon's teasing grin faltered slightly as she watched Jihyo's expression brighten at the praise. Something shifted in the atmosphere - a subtle tension that had nothing to do with their friendly competition.
Nayeon's fingers tightened imperceptibly on the armrest of Jeongyeon's chair, her earlier playfulness evaporating as she watched Seungho's animated explanation. The way he kept finding excuses to praise Jihyo's "natural leadership abilities" made her want to throw a snowball at his perfectly professional face.
"Well," Jeongyeon drawled, breaking the moment with deliberate casualness, "I still say our path was smarter. Work smart, not hard, right Jihyo-yah?"
The familiar nickname seemed to snap Jihyo out of whatever spell Seungho's praise had cast. She rolled her eyes at Jeongyeon, falling back into their comfortable dynamic. "Says the one who took the easy way out."
But Nayeon noticed how Jihyo's shoulders remained angled slightly toward Seungho, how her usual sharp comebacks lacked their usual bite. To Nayeon, it felt like watching storm clouds gather on a sunny day.
The cabin door creaked open as the PD emerged, clipboard in hand and professional smile firmly in place. "Welcome to your mountain home for the next few days!" He gestured expansively at the rustic structure behind him. "I trust both teams had... enlightening journeys?"
Jihyo accepted the thick envelope he extended, her eyes widening slightly at its weight. The paper crinkled loudly in the winter silence as she broke the seal, pulling out several pages of detailed instructions.
"As you may have noticed," the PD continued, "this isn't your typical luxury accommodation. This cabin operates the old-fashioned way - everything from heat to hot water depends on your own efforts."
Jihyo's eyes scanned the first page, her expression growing increasingly concerned. "We have to... maintain the wood supply ourselves?"
"That's right!" The PD's enthusiasm seemed to grow with each shocked face before him. "There's an axe and splitting maul in the tool shed, plus detailed instructions on proper technique. You'll need to keep the fire stoked regularly to maintain heat throughout the night."
"Throughout the night?" Nayeon echoed weakly.
"The temperature drops significantly after sunset," he confirmed cheerfully. "But don't worry - there's a thermometer inside. When it hits 15 degrees Celsius, that's your signal to add more wood."
Jihyo flipped to the next page, her eyebrows climbing higher. "Water from the well... manual pump system..." she broke off, looking slightly pale. "This is really primitive camping, isn't it?"
"We prefer to call it 'authentic mountain living,'" the PD corrected. "Everything here works exactly as it would have fifty years ago. No modern conveniences to rely on - just good old-fashioned hard work and teamwork."
Seungho stepped forward, adjusting his pack. "I'll be stationed in the crew cabin about 200 meters east," he explained, pointing toward a barely visible structure through the trees. "According to the production guidelines, I can offer basic safety instruction and emergency assistance, but..." his eyes crinkled with amusement, "you'll have to figure out most of it yourselves."
"How much can you tell us about splitting wood?" Jeongyeon asked hopefully.
"Just enough to prevent injuries," he replied diplomatically. "The rest is up to you."
"Fighting!" Jihyo called out automatically, though her voice wavered slightly as she continued reading the instruction packet.
The PD clapped his hands together. "Right then! The cameras will continue rolling periodically throughout your stay, but we'll try to be as unobtrusive as possible. Remember - this is about experiencing authentic mountain life. Everything you need is either in that packet or somewhere in the cabin. Good luck!"
As he turned to leave, Mina raised her hand tentatively. "Um, what about bathroom facilities?"
The PD's expression brightened. "Ah, for that we've made some concessions to modern comfort. There's a dedicated bathroom facility attached to the crew cabin - fully heated, with proper showers. We're not completely heartless." He chuckled at the visible relief on their faces. "You'll find a path marked with solar lights leading there. Just remember to bring a flashlight after dark."
"Any other activities planned for today?" Momo asked hopefully, already eyeing the cabin's entrance.
"Not today," the PD assured them. "You'll need time to familiarize yourselves with everything. We've set up fixed cameras in the common areas - living room, kitchen - but otherwise, the rest of the day is yours to settle in."
Dahyun perked up. "So no more surprise challenges?"
"Just the ongoing challenge of maintaining heat and water," he confirmed. "Though I wouldn't get too comfortable - tomorrow's schedule is... well, you'll see."
A collective sigh of relief swept through the group as they spotted their regular luggage stacked neatly inside the cabin's entrance.
"The crew brought these up earlier," the PD explained. "We're not completely sadistic - you'll have your own clothes and toiletries."
"Thank god," Sana breathed, already imagining changing out of her sweat-dampened hiking gear. "I was worried we'd have to sleep in these clothes."
Jihyo's mind was already racing, mentally cataloging everything they'd need to handle. Water from the well, maintaining the fire, organizing sleeping arrangements... She caught herself starting to assign tasks before they'd even stepped inside.
"Should we split up responsibilities now or—" she began, but Nayeon was already shouldering past her into the cabin.
"First priority: getting these backpacks off," Nayeon declared, dropping her pack with theatrical relief. "I can't feel my shoulders anymore."
"Unnie's right," Chaeyoung agreed, following suit. "Let's explore first, figure out what we're working with."
"And claim the best beds!" Jeongyeon called out, already racing toward the stairs.
Jihyo watched her members scatter like excited children, their earlier exhaustion forgotten in the thrill of investigation. Maybe they had the right idea - they could organize properly once they understood the space.
She felt a gentle nudge at her elbow. Mina stood there, smiling softly. "Come on," she encouraged. "The list will still be there in ten minutes. Let's see what kind of adventure they've planned for us."
Jihyo returned the smile, letting her leader's checklist fade temporarily into the background. They had time. For now, the sound of her members' delighted discoveries echoing through the cabin was enough.
The cabin's interior revealed itself like a storybook, each room a new chapter waiting to be discovered. Sunlight filtered through frost-kissed windows, casting long shadows across worn wooden floorboards that creaked welcomingly under their boots. The entrance opened into a generous space that seemed to exhale decades of mountain memories.
"Oh, look at this!" Dahyun called out, already investigating a door to their left. "There's like a tiny study in here." She poked her head into the small room, where a solid wooden desk sat beneath a window. An old telephone, the kind with a rotary dial, perched on one corner like a museum piece.
Chaeyoung immediately claimed the desk chair, spinning experimentally. "Perfect writing spot," she declared, already pulling out her notebook. "The view alone could inspire lyrics for days."
Meanwhile, Jeongyeon and Momo had raced up the wooden staircase to their right, their excited voices carrying down as they discovered the sleeping quarters. "Four double rooms!" Jeongyeon shouted. "And one single!"
"Dibs on—" several voices started simultaneously, but Jihyo's leader instincts kicked in.
"We'll figure out rooms later!" she called up firmly, though her lips twitched with amusement.
The living room drew them forward like a magnet, dominated by a massive stone fireplace that commanded attention from its corner. A rustic rug spread before it like an invitation to gather, its intricate patterns telling tales of previous inhabitants. Antique light bulbs hung from exposed beams, promising soft illumination once darkness fell.
"No outlets though," Mina observed, running her hand along the wall. "I guess they really meant it about authentic mountain living."
Sana had already discovered the kitchen, her delighted gasp echoing through the doorway. The others followed to find her spinning slowly in the spacious cooking area, taking in the old-fashioned appliances with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. A long dining table stretched along one wall, its wooden surface marked with years of use.
"It's like something from a drama," Tzuyu breathed, trailing her fingers along the table's edge. "I can already picture us all having meals here."
"If we can figure out how to cook with these," Nayeon added, eyeing the rustic stove skeptically. "Anyone know how to light a wood-burning oven?"
Upstairs, the bedrooms waited with their double beds and simple furnishings. A small bathroom at the end of the hall revealed a slightly grimy bathtub and a mercifully normal toilet - a compromise between authentic and practical that drew sighs of relief.
"The tub's seen better days," Momo observed, peering inside. "But at least we have the crew cabin's facilities for actual showers."
The cabin seemed to absorb their voices, their laughter, their footsteps, wrapping them in its weathered embrace like it had been waiting for just this moment, just these nine girls to breathe new life into its ancient bones.
Jihyo's fingers traced the rough stone of the fireplace, mentally calculating how much wood they'd need to keep it fed through the night. Her eyes tracked upward, noting the sturdy metal grate above - perfect for drying wet clothes, though they'd need to be careful not to create a fire hazard.
"At least the chimney looks well-maintained," she murmured, mostly to herself. Years of watching her father tackle home repairs had taught her to spot potential problems, and this setup seemed surprisingly solid despite its age.
Moving to the kitchen, she began opening cabinets methodically, taking inventory. Cast iron pans hung from a rack, their surfaces gleaming with proper seasoning. At least someone had prepared these properly. Basic cooking supplies filled the shelves - rice, dried beans, some basic seasonings. Enough to work with, though they'd need to be creative.
A flash of white caught her attention as Sana picked up an envelope from the kitchen island, turning it over in her hands. Their eyes met, and Sana's eyebrow quirked questioningly as she broke the seal.
The paper inside was thick, official-looking, with the production company's logo at the top. Jihyo moved closer, reading over Sana's shoulder as they took in the contents together.
"Teams will alternate cooking duties," Sana read aloud softly, her finger tracking the text. "Each meal must incorporate... ingredients from the root cellar?" She looked up, confused. "What root cellar?"
Jihyo's eyes scanned further down. "Wait, there's a map... apparently there's a trapdoor under that rug by the pantry."
Sana continued reading. "The pantry and root cellar contain all available food supplies for your four-day stay. Plan and ration accordingly." Her eyes widened. "Oh, there's going to be a special cooking challenge on the third day - we need to make sure we save enough ingredients for that."
"Look," Jihyo pointed to the middle of the page. "They've included some traditional mountain recipes from this region." She skimmed the list. "These actually look interesting - very hearty, winter dishes."
"There's more," Sana turned to the final page, then let out a small gasp. "They've assigned our sleeping arrangements!" She quickly scanned the list. "Oh... this is unexpected. They've put some interesting pairs together."
Jihyo leaned closer, their heads nearly touching as they read the room assignments. The production team had clearly aimed for maximum entertainment value, matching members who rarely roomed together. Her eyes lingered on one particular pairing.
"Well," Sana said diplomatically, "at least they gave us proper beds. And look at the last note..."
As team leaders, you will be responsible for organizing daily tasks and ensuring your team's survival skills improve throughout the stay. Remember - this isn't just about competition. It's about learning to work together in ways you never have before. Good luck!
P.S. - The hatchet is sharper than it looks. We recommend starting with smaller logs.
Sana's eyes widened as she finished reading. "They really want us to become mountain women, don't they?"
"I suppose it could be worse," Jihyo mused, already mentally drafting task rotations. "At least they didn't make us hunt for our food."
A loud thud from outside made them both jump. Through the kitchen window, they could see Jeongyeon already at the woodpile, experimentally hefting the hatchet while Nayeon recorded on her phone, no doubt waiting for something embarrassing to happen.
Jihyo found herself drawn to the window, unable to look away as Nayeon's distinctive laugh carried through the glass. The eldest member had positioned herself on a fallen log, phone held steady as she directed Jeongyeon through increasingly ridiculous poses. Each new stance with the hatchet grew more dramatic than the last - first a warrior queen surveying her domain, then a lumberjack pageant contestant complete with exaggerated runway walk.
"Work it, work it!" Nayeon's voice was muffled but unmistakable, her free hand gesturing encouragement. "Give me 'Timber Magazine's Next Top Model!'"
The way Nayeon's nose scrunched when she laughed, how her entire body seemed to participate in her joy - it was achingly familiar. For a moment, Jihyo could almost pretend they were back in their trainee days, when Nayeon's laughter had been her favorite sound in the world, when everything between them was simple and clear.
But then Nayeon shifted, and the winter light caught her profile just so, highlighting the elegant lines of her face, the quiet grace she'd grown into. This wasn't their teenage Nayeon anymore, all gangly limbs and desperate dreams. This was the woman she'd become - still playful, still bright, but layered now with something deeper, more complex.
Jihyo's fingers pressed against the cold glass, an unconscious echo of the distance between them. Even now, watching Nayeon find joy in such a simple moment, she felt that familiar pull - the instinct to join in, to be part of whatever was making Nayeon smile like that. But something held her back, rooted her to this spot as a silent observer rather than a participant.
Outside, Jeongyeon had progressed to what appeared to be interpretive dance with the hatchet as a prop, and Nayeon's delight echoed across the snowy clearing. The sound wrapped around Jihyo's heart like a familiar melody played in a minor key - beautiful still, but somehow sadder than before.
Sana watched the subtle changes play across Jihyo's face as her finger left a small, foggy mark on the window pane. The winter light cast shadows across Jihyo's features, highlighting the tension she tried so hard to hide from the others. But Sana had always been able to see past their leader's carefully constructed walls, to recognize when Jihyo's strength was more performance than reality.
She reached out slowly, her hand finding Jihyo's arm with gentle certainty. The touch was feather-light but grounding, carrying years of shared understanding in its warmth. Concern etched delicate lines between Sana's brows as she watched Jihyo's reflection in the glass.
The contact drew Jihyo back like a whisper, her eyes refocusing on the present moment. She turned to find Sana's worried gaze, so much knowing held in that single look. A small smile tugged at Jihyo's lips - not the bright one she wore for cameras, but something softer, more genuine. She covered Sana's hand with her own, squeezing lightly in silent gratitude.
They stood there for a moment, sharing the kind of wordless communication that only comes from years of living in each other's pockets. Outside, Nayeon's laughter continued to paint the winter air, but here in this quiet kitchen corner, Jihyo allowed herself to lean ever so slightly into Sana's steadying presence.
Momo's cheerful "Sana-yah, did you find the—" died mid-sentence as she took in the scene before her. The winter light painted shadows across the kitchen, catching the way Sana's hand rested on Jihyo's arm, how their bodies angled toward each other in quiet intimacy. Something flickered across Momo's features - not quite hurt, not quite understanding, but somewhere in between.
Sana felt Momo's presence like a shift in atmospheric pressure. Her hand slipped from Jihyo's arm with practiced casualness, though the movement carried a weight that seemed to echo in the suddenly heavy air. Their eyes met briefly in the window's reflection, years of unspoken history compressed into that fraction of a second.
Momo was already retreating, her footsteps barely audible on the wooden floors as she disappeared back into the cabin's depths. The space she left behind felt charged, like the air before a storm.
Jihyo's sigh seemed to come from somewhere deep inside, carrying traces of too many complicated emotions to name. When Sana finally turned to face her, apology written in every line of her face, Jihyo managed a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Go," she murmured, nodding toward the doorway where Momo had been. "It's okay."
Sana's hand brushed Jihyo's arm one final time - a gesture that managed to convey both apology and encouragement - before she slipped away, following the path Momo had taken. Her soft footsteps faded, leaving Jihyo alone with the winter light and the echo of Nayeon's distant laughter.
Sana found her in the last bedroom, the one tucked into the corner where late afternoon light painted golden rectangles across worn floorboards. Momo sat perfectly still at the foot of the bed, her attention fixed on some invisible point near her feet. Her shoulders curved inward slightly, making her seem smaller than usual in the empty room.
"There you are," Sana kept her voice light, playful - the same tone she might use when finding Momo napping in unexpected places during their comeback seasons. "I was starting to think you'd found a secret passage somewhere."
Momo's fingers twisted in her lap, but she didn't look up. "Just exploring," she murmured, her voice carrying that particular flatness that always worried Sana most. It was the voice Momo used when she was trying to convince herself she wasn't feeling what she was feeling.
The bed dipped slightly as Sana settled beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. She didn't speak immediately, letting the cabin's creaks and distant voices fill the space between them. Through the window, a bird called once, sharp and clear in the winter air.
"You know," Sana finally said, her hand finding Momo's restless fingers, "sometimes I still catch myself reaching for you first - when something funny happens, or when I'm worried about someone." Her thumb traced gentle circles on Momo's palm. "Old habits from taking care of each other for so long."
Momo's breath hitched slightly, but her eyes remained fixed downward. "It's different though, isn't it?" The words came out barely above a whisper. "When it's Jihyo."
"Hey," Sana shifted closer, ducking her head to try to catch Momo's gaze. "Look at me? Please?"
When Momo finally lifted her eyes, Sana felt her heart constrict at the vulnerability there. She glanced quickly around the room, confirming the absence of cameras, before leaning in to press her lips softly against Momo's. The kiss was gentle, barely there, but carried the weight of a thousand unspoken promises.
"You're not my second choice," Sana whispered against Momo's mouth, her fingers coming up to trace the curve of her cheek. "You've never been my second choice. When I chose you, I chose all of you - your strength, your doubts, every beautiful piece."
Momo's eyes fluttered closed at the touch. "Sometimes I just..."
"I know," Sana breathed, pressing their foreheads together. "But my feelings for Jihyo, caring about her wellbeing - that doesn't diminish what we have. My heart chose you, Momoring. Not out of obligation or settling, but because you're you ."
A tiny smile finally tugged at Momo's lips. "Even when I steal your food?"
"Especially then," Sana giggled softly, relieved to see a glimpse of her Momo returning. "Because you always leave me the last bite, even though you pretend you don't."
Momo's hand found Sana's, intertwining their fingers with familiar ease. "I'm sorry for being insecure."
"Don't be," Sana squeezed her hand. "Just remember - out of all the paths my heart could have taken, it led me to you. That wasn't an accident or a compromise. It was the clearest choice I've ever made."
Momo leaned in, wrapping her arms around Sana's waist and tucking her face into the crook of her neck. She breathed in deeply, savoring the familiar scent that still lingered beneath the day's exertion - a mixture of Sana's favorite perfume and something uniquely her. The tension in her shoulders began to melt away as Sana's fingers found their way into her hair, scratching gently at her scalp in that way that always made her feel safe.
"I missed you today," Momo murmured against Sana's collarbone. "Kept wanting to look back and make jokes with you on the trail, but you weren't there."
"Mmm," Sana hummed, the vibration pleasant against Momo's forehead. "I missed you too. It felt strange being on opposite teams."
Momo pulled back slightly, though her arms remained loosely circled around Sana's waist. "How was it really? The climb? I know you were playing it up for the cameras, but..."
"Honestly?" Sana's expression softened into something more vulnerable, meant only for Momo. "It was harder than I expected. That last section especially - my legs were shaking so bad I was afraid I'd actually fall. But I couldn't show it because the cameras were right there, you know?"
"I knew it," Momo frowned slightly, her hands unconsciously tightening their hold. "I could tell from the way you were placing your feet. You always get more careful when you're really struggling, even if your face stays bright."
A gentle smile curved Sana's lips. "Of course you noticed that. You've always seen right through my idol face."
"That's because I know what you look like when you're genuinely happy," Momo replied simply. "There's this little crinkle by your eyes that only appears when the joy is real."
Sana's eyes softened at Momo's words, and there it was - that telltale crinkle appearing at their corners, transforming her whole face into something luminous and real. Momo's answering smile bloomed slow and wide, like sunshine breaking through clouds, before she leaned forward to capture that joy with her lips.
The kiss deepened naturally, carrying none of the hesitation from before. Momo's hand found its way to the nape of Sana's neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair there as Sana sighed contentedly against her mouth. They moved together with the easy grace of dancers who knew each other's rhythms by heart
When they finally broke apart, slightly breathless, Sana's eyes remained closed for a moment longer, savoring. Momo couldn't help but press one more quick kiss to the corner of her mouth, right where that precious crinkle had been.
"See?" Momo whispered, her thumb brushing Sana's cheek. "That's my favorite expression - the one you wear when you're completely yourself."
Sana covered Momo's hand with her own, her eyes dancing between Momo's steady gaze and her slightly parted lips. The late afternoon light painted everything in soft gold, making the moment feel dream-like and precious.
"I wish..." Sana sighed, letting her eyes flutter closed as she leaned her forehead against Momo's. "I wish we could just stay here, like this. But there are probably cameras hidden in every corner, and I can hear Chaeyoung and Dahyun racing up and down the stairs."
As if on cue, delighted shrieks echoed from somewhere below, followed by Jihyo's stern voice calling out something about proper indoor behavior and respecting the cabin's ancient floorboards.
"We should probably go help with lunch preparations anyway," Sana murmured reluctantly, though she made no move to pull away. "But later... when we're at the crew cabin for showers..." She let the suggestion hang in the air between them, her thumb tracing small circles on Momo's wrist.
Momo's breath hitched slightly at the implied promise. "The path there is pretty dark," she observed innocently. "We might need to walk together. For safety."
"Mmm," Sana hummed, finally pulling back enough to fix Momo with a knowing look. "Very responsible thinking. Though I seem to remember you being quite brave in the dark."
A crash from downstairs, followed by Nayeon's distinctive laugh and Jihyo's muffled scolding, broke the moment. Reality crept back in around the edges of their private bubble.
"Sorry, sorry!" Nayeon held up her hands in surrender, still fighting back giggles as she surveyed the scattered kindling around her feet. "In my defense, Jeongyeon started it."
"Did not!" Jeongyeon protested, though her attempt at innocence was undermined by the way she was still trying to tickle Nayeon's sides. "You're the one who said I couldn't carry more logs than you."
Jihyo's stern look could have melted snow. "Are you two actually children? We've been here less than an hour."
Jeongyeon withered slightly under Jihyo's glare, suddenly very interested in reorganizing the fallen wood. But when Jihyo's gaze shifted to Nayeon, she found herself faced with the full power of Im Nayeon's signature pout - eyes wide and apologetic, lower lip jutting out just so.
"Jihyo-yah," Nayeon whined softly, managing to look both contrite and adorable. "We'll clean it up right away."
Watching Nayeon like this - playful, unguarded, almost glowing with mischief - made something in Jihyo's chest constrict painfully. It had been so long since she'd seen this version of her, the one who could turn even mundane moments into adventures. The careful distance they'd maintained lately made these glimpses of the old Nayeon feel like precious gifts, each one threatening to unravel the careful walls Jihyo had built. All Jihyo wanted was to pull her into that study and finally break through this careful performance they'd both been maintaining and just push her against th-
Jihyo cut that thought off abruptly, forcing her attention back to the present moment. Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous territory, especially here, especially now.
Jihyo felt her resolve cracking despite herself. She heaved a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just... try to remember we're supposed to be responsible adults?" Her tone had already softened, the battle lost the moment Nayeon deployed that expression.
"Everyone to the living room!" she called out, raising her voice to carry through the cabin. "Time to sort out sleeping arrangements!"
The sound of multiple footsteps thundered above as members began descending the stairs, their excited chatter filling the space. Jihyo squared her shoulders, already anticipating the chaos that would follow her announcement. At least the room assignments were already decided - even if some of those pairings were going to raise eyebrows.
Behind her, she could hear Nayeon and Jeongyeon whispering and snickering as they gathered the scattered wood, but she decided some battles weren't worth fighting. They had bigger challenges ahead - starting with how to break the news about who would be sharing rooms with whom.
Sana and Momo appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Jihyo caught Sana's eye, offering a small nod that carried volumes of understanding. The slight smile Sana returned was equal parts gratitude and apology.
"Okay, everyone," Jihyo began, holding up the official envelope. "Before anyone gets too excited about claiming rooms, the production team has already assigned our sleeping arrangements." She paused as groans of protest filled the room. "And no, I had nothing to do with these pairings, so please direct any complaints to the PD."
She cleared her throat, unfolding the paper with deliberate slowness. "Room assignments are as follows: Room One: Sana and Jihyo." The words seemed to hang in the air as Jihyo forced herself to maintain a neutral expression. She deliberately avoided looking at Momo, whose sharp intake of breath was audible in the sudden silence.
"Room Two: Nayeon and Momo." If the first pairing had created tension, this one froze the atmosphere entirely. Nayeon's fingers tightened around the piece of kindling she still held, her knuckles whitening.
Momo's face remained carefully blank, though her body had shifted unconsciously closer to Sana, who looked torn between comforting her and maintaining their careful public distance.
Jihyo continued quickly. "Room Three: Mina and Chaeyoung." This pairing drew less dramatic reactions, though Chaeyoung's eyes lit up with quiet excitement.
"Room Four: Tzuyu and Dahyun." The two exchanged quick glances, a silent conversation passing between them.
"And finally," Jihyo took a steadying breath, "Room Five, the single: Jeongyeon."
"Wait, what?" Jeongyeon's eyes widened comically. "I get a whole room to myself?"
"The single room is slightly smaller," Jihyo explained, consulting the notes, "but yes, you'll have it to yourself."
"Daebak!" Jeongyeon pumped her fist in victory, then quickly tried to look sympathetic as the others shot her envious glares. "I mean... how unfortunate that I'll be all alone..."
"The production team has requested that these arrangements remain fixed for the duration of our stay," Jihyo continued, ignoring Jeongyeon's poor attempt at hiding her glee. "They've emphasized that part of this experience is about... building new dynamics between members."
"Building new dynamics," Nayeon echoed under her breath, her tone carrying an edge that made Jihyo's stomach twist. Their eyes met briefly across the room before Nayeon looked away, suddenly very interested in examining the woodpile.
"Well," Jeongyeon clapped her hands together, breaking the tension, "at least they gave us proper beds. Should we start bringing up our luggage?"
The suggestion of action seemed to snap everyone out of their thoughts. Members began moving toward their bags, the air filling with casual chatter about who had packed what and whether anyone had remembered to bring extra socks.
But beneath the surface normalcy, subtle currents of tension rippled through the group. Momo's shoulders remained rigid as she hefted her bag, carefully not looking at either Sana or Nayeon. Nayeon's usual stream of commentary had gone conspicuously quiet. And Jihyo found herself wondering, not for the first time that day, exactly what kind of story the production team was trying to tell with these carefully crafted situations.