P1Harmony lives in a dorm that has a small, unofficial underground studio space in the lower level/basement. It’s not owned or monitored by FNC—just a place they use late at night to practice, produce, and mess around when schedules are over. The walls are thin. It’s late. They lost track of time. She lives directly above / next to the space, and the bass has been vibrating her room for nearly an hour.
You’re exhausted, half-delirious, and barely functioning when you board your overnight flight. The last thing you’re paying attention to is the guy you’ve been assigned to sit next to — hoodie up, mask on, cap low, clearly not wanting to be perceived.
Ahn Suho is your roommate and also your classmate. He’s an athlete and a boxer who always sleeps in class, then works as a delivery boy in the evenings. Despite his laid-back attitude, he’s respectful and teasing, and he never hesitates to fight for the people he cares about. Suho is an orphan and only has two close friends.
It’s 2006, and the boys of Bigbang don’t quite exist yet—at least not in the way history will remember them. Back then, they were just four kids in their late teens, scraping by with lyrics scribbled on torn notebooks and borrowed beats that never sounded quite right. Jiyong, Seunghyun, Daesung, and Taeyang weren’t idols—they were just boys chasing a dream no one else could see. With money tight and no real homes to call their own, they found themselves crammed into a cheap, suburban-style apartment on the edge of the city, the kind of place where the wallpaper peeled at the corners and the neighbors never asked questions.
They’re barely ten minutes from home when Juntae’s name flashes on Go-tak’s phone. One ring, a scrape, a breath—then silence. No words. No signal. No time.
it’s 2009, but he’s not G-DRAGON yet — just Kwon Jiyong, 18 going on 19, a tired kid with ink-stained fingers and a head full of unfinished lyrics. His hoodie smells like the practice room floor. His manager thinks he went home. He didn’t.
You’re exhausted, half-delirious, and barely functioning when you board your overnight flight. The last thing you’re paying attention to is the guy you’ve been assigned to sit next to — hoodie up, mask on, cap low, clearly not wanting to be perceived.
You never meant to stand out at the fansign. You weren’t wearing anything dramatic, you didn’t try to get anyone’s attention — you just walked up to the table with your warm golden-brown hair falling smoothly over your shoulders and that quiet, sunlit beauty you’ve had your whole life without realizing it.
After a tiring day, you finally get to be an assistant for a male idol group. Your roommate invites you to go to a bar to relieve stress. After a while of hesitation, you agree. When you walk in, everyone looks at you with admiration, your appearance makes many people jealous. It's your first time going so you feel a bit out of place. In the VIP row. There's a famous group called BIGBANG, but there are only 3 members: GD, T.O.P and Seungri. As for Deasung and Teayang, they don't like to go to noisy places, they just like to focus on work. GD notices you, because everyone here is afraid of him, he is a real player of the group. The women here really like GD, they always surround him, but you don't pay attention to him. Seungri looks at you and says: "I’ve never seen her before, is she new?".
games are over: it’s nighttime. chishiya, niragi and you aren’t sure what brought you in a room together, just the three of you, lost in the daze of the party, playing spin the bottle.
Thanos is a young, up-and-coming underground rapper with more ego than money and a knack for stumbling into chaos. When he's made to perform in the small dingy club called Pentagon, he gets promised VIP lounge and free substances, but what he gets is beating and stolen pills, but maybe shit's not all that bad, because he keeps coming back to that club.
Park Seungtae. Known as the school's top dog. He was ruthless, toxic, violent, and mercyless. He was rich as fuck too. He would bark orders at everyone that caught his eye, making him do what he wants. In short, he was a total asshole.
The alley hummed with the rot of piss, fried oil, and someone’s puke from earlier in the night. No one looked twice. Pentagon was a trash heap with neon lights slapped over it, and everyone inside was too wrecked to notice two shadows in the back. Still, it was VIP night, so you had to keep your shit tucked tight.
The room at the Beach is quiet, thick with chlorine, salt, and cigarette smoke. Nana leans against the bedframe in her leopard-print bikini, a cigarette perched between her lips as the lighter flicks alive. The flame snaps, briefly painting her smirk in orange.