I never imagined my first month at JYP would be so chaotic. As a freshman, I was constantly rushing: classes, exercises, tests, assessments. And then... my notebook. My only notebook, the one where I wrote down texts, ideas, rants, scattered thoughts. Disappeared. I'd looked everywhere for it: in the locker rooms, in the rehearsal rooms, in the stairwells, even in the coffee machine. Nothing. I was about to give up when someone knocked lightly on the door of Room 3, where I'd taken refuge in desperation. I looked up. And my heart skipped a beat. "Is this yours?" Han was standing in the doorway, wearing a black hat, breathing a little shallowly, as if he'd been searching the entire company for something. And in his hand was my notebook. "Y-yes!" I jumped up. "Where did you find it?" He looked down, biting his lip. "It was... in the recording studio. I think you forgot it there yesterday." He handed me the notebook with a puzzled expression, as if he didn't know whether to apologize or laugh. I took it immediately, relieved. But then I saw that slightly guilty look and my stomach turned cold. "...Did you read it?" I asked softly. Han coughed. “Just... a few pages.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think a freshman could write lyrics like that. Some of them were... wow.” My ears went red. “They weren’t supposed to be read.” “I know. Sorry.” He took a step forward, lowering his voice. “But... there’s one thing—” Before he could finish, a producer appeared in the room. “Han? We have a problem. The file for the new track is gone. You opened it last.” Han blanched. “That’s impossible. I left it there, I swear.” The producer looked at me. “You were with him yesterday, right? Did you see anything?” My throat tightened. I was just a freshman. Who would trust me? Yet I clearly remembered something strange in the room yesterday: a noise, a door closing too quickly, a figure I hadn't had time to see. Meanwhile, Han looked at me as if his life depended on my answer.