*Haeun, that morning

The dressing room was buzzing with activity. Stylists flitted between the members, adjusting their outfits, reapplying makeup, and ensuring every strand of hair was in its rightful place. Haeun sat stiffly in her chair, staring at the outfit hanging on the rack in front of her—a fancy black bra, leather straps looking like it came from a BDSM starter kit, and a terrifyingly short miniskirt.

Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t the first time she’d been asked to wear something revealing, but somehow, it felt worse today. Maybe it was the fancam comments she’d overheard Mina laughing about earlier, or Jihoon's barely concealed disgust each time she changed into her stage outfits, much of her skin left exposed. Whatever the reason, Haeun couldn’t bring herself to accept it this time.

“I’m not wearing that,” she said finally, her voice firm as she turned to her stylist who was busy arranging accessories on the vanity. She had been initially surprised that she was assigned male stylists, but given how hard the company wanted to pander to the male gaze, it made sense.

He looked up, surprised. “What do you mean? This is your stage outfit for today. You don’t have a choice.”

Haeun crossed her arms. “I do have a choice. I’m not comfortable in it.”

He sighed, setting down the necklace he’d been holding. “Haeun, I get it. But this is what the company wants. It’s part of the concept. It's a little sexy, I know, but so what? The fans love it. The comments and engagement have been through the roof since you started showing a little more skin. You should be proud, you're one of the hottest women in the industry right now.”

“I don’t care about engagement,” Haeun snapped, her voice rising. “I care about how I feel. And I feel exposed in this. Why can’t I wear something more like Mina or Eunseo? Their outfits aren’t this...” She trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Revealing?” The stylist offered, arching an eyebrow.

Haeun nodded. “Yes. Revealing. Why is it always me who has to wear the least?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Because it works for you, Haeun. It suits the vibe you are giving off. Sure, they others can dress sexy too, but they don't have that innocent charm that contrasts so well with it. Your fancams are getting the most views, your photos are trending, and your outfit posts are getting the highest engagement out of everyone. The company knows what they’re doing. They’ve done the market research.”

She fell silent, chewing on her lip as she stared back at the outfit hanging there.

“I’m just here to follow company orders,” he continued, picking up the necklace again. “If you really don’t like it, maybe you should speak with them about it instead of taking it out on me.”

Haeun swallowed thickly. She knew he was right. It wasn’t his fault. He was just doing his job, following the orders from above, like all of them were. Stupid market research, she thought.

“Fine,” she said quietly. “I’ll wear it.”

The stylist smiled. “Good girl. You won’t regret it. Trust me. The fans are going to love it. Come, let me help you get ready.”

He pulled her by her hand towards the changing corner, which is little more than a small area partitioned by thin curtains for privacy. She was told to undress while he got the clothes from the rack, and she dutifully complied.

Haeun stood behind the curtain, naked except for her panties, waiting for him to come in with her outfit.

Suddenly, the curtains were yanked open, another stylist barging in with a handful of safety pins. Haeun yelped, quickly covering her body with her hands, her face burning with embarrassment.

"Sorry! I thought this was empty," he apologized, though his eyes roamed her body unabashedly. "I just needed to get some stuff from the rack here."

Haeun felt her cheeks grow even hotter as she stood there, feeling exposed and humiliated under his gaze.

"Oh, no need to be so shy," he teased, taking his time to pick up the items he needed, his eyes never leaving her body. "It's nothing we haven't seen before. You're an idol after all, and your outfits aren't exactly...modest."

Haeun bit her lip, hugging her breasts tighter against herself, wishing she could disappear. Just as she thought it couldn't get any worse, another member of the crew peeked their head around the curtain.

"Hey, do you have any extra hair ties?" he asked, clearly clued in on the situation, his grin widening at the sight of her nearly naked body. "Or maybe I can borrow something from Haeun? Not that you have anywhere to hide some now."

The other stylist snickered as she flushed bright red, feeling their eyes roam her body like they owned every part of it.

"Please, can you just give me some privacy?" she pleaded, her voice shaking with humiliation. But they ignored her, continuing to chat and laugh as if she wasn't even there, all while she stood there, exposed and violated. She couldn’t even scream for help without making a scene, and she was afraid of drawing more attention to herself.

She closed her eyes tightly, wishing for them to leave, for this nightmare to end. She felt dirty and ashamed, their hungry gazes feeling like hands touching her all over.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her stylist returned, shooing the rest away.

"Sorry about that, Haeun," he apologized, not looking very sorry at all. "Just a little misundersdanding, that's all. Now let’s get you dressed, shall we?"

She nodded meekly, so relieved that he had helped get rid of the others that she let her hands slips from her chest, letting him take in the sight of her full breasts before she realized her mistake, and covered them up again.

The stylist smiled, his eyes lingering on her body for just a moment too long before he handed her the outfit. She took it from him quickly, eager to cover herself up again. She pulled the brassier around her chest, realising she could not tie up the straps by herself.

He noticed, coming closer to help her put on her top, his hands brushing against her back as he collected the straps. Then he wrapped them up, around her neck, putting a hand on the nape of her neck, sliding it down her shoulders. He was standing uncomfortably close, and she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the way she was exposed and **** to him, how he was taking advantage of her right now.

He eventually finished up, and stepped away, handing her the miniskirt.

"Um... Is the safety shorts still on the rack?" she asked nervously.

He shook his head, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Nope, the outfit didn't come with one. Guess you have to stay in your panties today.”

Haeun's stomach dropped as she stared down at the skirt, then back at him, her heart pounding in her chest.

"What?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "What do you mean? The last times I wore skirts it always came with them! I can't dance in these without flashing the entire audience!"

Her stylist shrugged nonchalantly. “Look, I'm just following instructions here. If you want to go bare under that skirt, it's not my problem."

Haeun's cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger as she pulled on the miniskirt, which barely covered her ass. She could feel the cool air against her bare skin beneath the thin fabric.

"You really don't care about what happens to me on stage," she muttered under her breath.

He turned to her, a sly grin on his face. "If you want, I can get you some safety tape, but it's from my personal stash since the outfit didn't include them."

Haeun felt tears of humiliation stinging her eyes as she nodded, knowing she had no other choice. "Please do," she whispered.

He left the room, leaving her standing there in her skimpy outfit. Haeun ran a hand over the leather straps around her neck, pulling her hair back and adjusting the short skirt over her exposed panties as best she could.

The stylist returned shortly, holding a roll of white tape in his hands. He knelt down in front of her, his face inches from her crotch as he lifted up her skirt to pull her panty away and stick the tape to her skin. Haeun held her breath, trying not to think about how intimate the situation felt as his fingers brushed against her inner thighs, pulling the tape up to stick her panties to the skirt. He repeated the process with the other leg, before standing back up, giving her skirt an approving pat.

"There we go," he said, smiling like nothing had happened. "All done. You're ready for the stage now."

Haeun nodded, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at how easily she had been made **** and exposed by someone she was meant to be able to trust. The stylist left the room, leaving her alone again, her outfit feeling uncomfortably tight against her body. She pulled out her phone and took a selfie, desperately praying for Minjae to protest vehemently, to give her courage to refuse such a ridiculous outfit, even if it meant angering the management team.

Instead, he only asked if she was comfortable about it. She lied, told him she was. Deep down, she knew he would be happy with the outfit, that he always enjoyed seeing her show more skin to others, and she couldn't bring herself to disappoint him. He has been so supportive of her career, and she couldn't let him down, not when he was willing to accept her, no matter what. Maybe I was being too sensitive about it, she thought. Maybe the company is right, and the outfits are helping my career.

And so Haeun stepped out onto the stage that night, her heart pounding in her chest as she heard the crowd go wild at her revealing outfit. Her members shot her worried glances, but she ignored them, focusing on hitting her marks perfectly. The tape helped, but she could feel the cameras zooming in, hoping to catch any slip-up, any flash of skin underneath her skirt.

She persevered, pouring her heart into the performance, feeling the music and her own passion wash over her like a cleansing rain. And despite her discomfort, Haeun felt a strange kind of power surge through her as she danced and sang, knowing that every eye in the audience was on her, that every man hungered for her.

And as she finished her final number, sweat glistening on her skin, she couldn't help but feel proud of herself, for pushing through her fears and performing like she never had before. Maybe, she thought, as the crowd erupted into applause, maybe the outfit wasn't such a bad thing after all. Maybe it was helping her grow into the star she always dreamed of being. As long as she had her dream, as long as she could keep doing what she loved, as long as she had a boyfriend who loved her no matter what, maybe Haeun could handle anything the industry threw her way.