Last time 2 names entered the stage.
SNWB, Raw, unpolished, alive, Obsidian, sleek, sharp, a storm
in motion. One song screamed Rookie Fire,
the other thundered like power already claimed.
And between the cheers and charts, the shadows of rivalry
began to grow. But not every battle is on the
stage. Some are silent, some happen in
the space between voices. For Ryan, the quiet leader, fame
shines on others first, but sometimes the warmest fire burns
unseen. This is We Are SNWB Episode 3 in
our breath. SNWB.
The dorm was dim except for the blue glow of a tablet on the low
table. 4 boys leaned in, their reflections faint in the glass
as the digital charts refreshed. The line shifted, Obsidian
climbing, SNWB slipping just below.
Silence held for a beat, the kind that hummed louder than
sound. Shun's breath caught.
His fingers curled tighter around his knees.
We were ahead yesterday. His voice cracked small, like he
wasn't sure if he should say it at all.
Kian scoffed, tossing a cushion against the wall with a snap.
Figures, chains and Thunder always sell faster than sweat.
His jaw flexed even as his smirk tried to stay.
Ryan didn't answer. He adjusted the tablet slightly
so the glare faded, his face steady but unreadable.
The manager's voice cut through from the doorway, brisk and
sharp. Don't get stuck on numbers.
Exposure is what matters. Next week.
Variety slot confirmed. Ray, you're up.
Shun blinked, surprised. Kean's jaw tightened.
Ryan gave a small practice nod. Ray just leaned back, rolling
his shoulders loose as though the weight was nothing.
His grin came easy, bright without trying too hard.
Guess I'll try not to embarrass us.
Shun laughed too quickly, clapping once.
Kean muttered something under his breath.
Ryan stayed silent, steady, though his hand curled subtly
against his knee. Ray's silver hair caught the
glow of the screen as he stretched out, grin gleaming.
Told you center, never lies. The chart ticked again.
Obsidian's name inched higher. Kean leaned back, scoffing under
his breath. Well, at least someone gets
screen time. Ray arched A brow, playful.
You jealous already? Not jealous.
Kian shot back with a half smirk.
Just saying the rest of us aren't mannequins.
A small laugh from Shun tried to cut the tension, but it thinned
quickly. Ryan finally spoke, voice steady
but warm. It's good for all of US1
spotlight makes the whole stage brighter.
He glanced at Kian, his hands steady on his shoulder.
Our time will come, don't rush the fire.
Kian smirk softened into something quieter, though he
didn't answer. Ray tilted his head, grin easing
into something less sharp. Then I'll make sure I don't
waste it. The silence after wasn't heavy,
just layered, each boy carrying it differently.
SNWB. The booth was dim except for the
red glow of the mic light. Ryan's breath fogged the glass
as he adjusted the headphones, his reflection faint against the
dark alone. He sang softly.
Not the debut track, but something slower stripped.
His voice barely rose above a hum, the kind you keep to
yourself, and as the melody wound through him, memory pulled
him back. A few days ago.
The evaluation room was dim, a single mic stand in the middle
and the producer at his desk, expression unreadable.
Ryan bowed politely, lyric sheet folded with neat creases.
He expected to sing the debut track.
He had trained it until his ribs ached, but the producer slid a
tablet across the table. A new file glowed.
Not that one. Try this.
Ryan hesitated, just for a breath, then nodded, pressing
play. Fragile, almost bare, he began.
The first attempt broke early, the key too low, his throat
catching against the silence. He steady tried to recover, but
his breath ran short. He stopped, bowing his head.
The producer said nothing, just scribbled a note, eyes never
lifting. Second try.
Ryan inhaled deeper, pushing warmth into each note.
His voice smoothed, rounded this time, but still tight at the
edges, like he was holding too much back.
His hand curled against the mic, knuckles pale.
The last note lingered, almost trembling still.
Silence. The producer shifted, then
leaned toward the intercom call. One of the engineers in.
The door opened quietly, an engineer slipping inside with
headphones in hand. He sat, adjusted a dial.
Ryan swallowed, heart hammering as the track reset.
Third attempt. He shut his eyes, let the piano
carry him instead of forcing control.
His voice cracked once, but he leaned into it, let it fracture
into something raw. By the chorus, his tone
expanded, filling the room in a way even he hadn't expected.
When it ended, the engineer looked up, exchanging a glance
with the producer. Subtle, quick, not surprise,
recognition. Ryan caught it.
His chest tightened. Outside, in the hallway, the
other boys shifted in their seats.
The evaluation had been going longer than usual.
Shun chewed his lip, frowning. Kian tapped his knee, restless.
Ray leaned against the wall, brows furrowed, though he didn't
say a word. Inside, Ryan stayed frozen at
the mic. Finally, the producer spoke,
calm, deliberate. This one works more than I
thought. Ryan blinked.
Is it mine? The producer studied him, then
shook his head slightly. It's for the group, but you'll
carry it. The verses, the center, they
belong to you. The words pressed heavy, not
triumph, not praise, await. Ryan bowed low and steady,
hiding the tremor in his hands. When he rose, the producer and
engineer were already making notes, moving on.
Back in the present, the booth's red light glowed against his
skin. Ryan lifted his head, inhaled
slowly, and let the melody spill out again.
This time there was no piano, no backing track, just his voice.
Bear steady, rising into the quiet like it belonged there.
It wasn't flashy, it wasn't perfect, but it was enough to
fill the room, to prove what the producer and engineer had
already seen. The line hung in the air,
trembling on the edge of silence, and for a moment, Ryan
was the only sound in the world. SNWB.
The recording studio buzzed like a hive.
Staff shouted camera cues. Rookies shuffled into their
seats, the air thick with Hairspray and nerves.
Ray adjusted the mic clipped to his collar, silver hair catching
stray spotlights even before the cameras turned.
Beside him sat rookies from other companies, some already
with fans cheering from the stands, others wide eyed like
Sean on his first day. When the red light on the main
camera blinked, the host burst into frame with a booming voice.
Welcome to rookie carnival. The crowd cheered.
Ray's grin landed sharp and bright, posture snapping into
idle form. The first game began, a speed
quiz with tongue twisters. Ray fumble once, laughed at
himself, then leaned in and nailed the second with a sharp
roll of his tongue. The audience, how clapping.
Even the older idols grinned at his timing.
The camera cut close to his smile, lingering a beat too
long. Next came a balance challenge on
the wobbling boards. Ray nearly slipped, arms
flailing, then struck A dramatic pose instead, earning laughter
from the audience. The host shouted.
Natural entertainer. As the crowd roared during the
break, staff rushed on with water bottles and fresh powder.
Ray sat back, catching his breath.
Ray. The voice came from just behind.
He turned. Gin.
The difference was sharp, his styling colder, jaw set, the
aura of someone already used to the spotlight, but the eyes were
the same. For a moment, neither moved.
Then Gin's mouth quirked. Didn't think we'd end up in the
same place. Ray's lips twitched, almost a
smile. Almost not.
Didn't think I'd see you here, either.
They held each other's gaze just long enough for it to sting.
A staff member called Jin back, but the moment lingered like
static in the air. When the cameras rolled again,
the host's grin sharpened. Ah, I saw something.
You two were chatting during the break.
The crowd leaned forward, curious.
Ray froze for 1/2 second, then let his practice grin return.
Jin tilted his head, calm. We went to same high school.
Jin said smoothly. The host clapped his hands.
Really. High school friends.
How nice. A reunion on our stage.
The audience cooed. Ray chuckled.
Light, careful. We weren't close, but we knew
each other. The laughter rose again, eating
it up as coincidence, but Ray felt Jin's eyes on him, the
weight heavier than applause. The show rolled on, silly props,
louder jingles, rookies scrambling for points.
Ray threw himself into it, charming the camera with quick
wit, his grin returning every time it wavered.
But between the games, every slip of his gaze found Gin
again. Finally, the closing credits.
Applause thundered, confetti cannons popping.
Ray clapped politely, bowing with the others, still catching
his breath. A quiet voice slipped in as the
lights dimmed. Good work today, Gin.
Closer now, low enough the mic didn't catch.
Ray's reply came clipped, sharper than he intended.
Yeah, you too. And then managers, both stepping
in at once, their smiles thin, their eyes colder than the idols
they guarded. One hand on Ray's shoulder, one
on Jin's arm. No words exchanged, only a
glance. Rivals, not friends.
The boys were pulled apart in opposite directions.
The cheers of the crowd faded, but the tension in that hallway
stayed. SNWB.
For three nights in a row, the same clip had played on every
music show at break, across fan accounts, stitched into endless
edits online. High school reunion.
On stage, the host's voice boomed over and over, spliced
with Ray and Jin's half smiles. The words flashed bold on
screen, from classmates to rivals.
The dorm's laptop screen replayed it again, the four boys
crammed close on the floor. Sean scrolled through his phone
at the same time, cheeks puffed as he chewed on dried squid.
Listen to this. If Ray and Jin were classmates,
imagine the stories they could tell and hear.
Friendship arc incoming. He laughed, scrolling faster.
They're shipping it already. Kian sat cross legged, peeling a
banana with exaggerated care. He bit into it sharply.
Figures. Always easier to hype drama than
talent. Ray leaned back against the
couch, tossing A cushion at Kian's knee.
Jealous much? Not jealous, just saying.
Kian muttered, waving the banana like a pointer.
I'm on a diet and even I can see they're feeding the fans more
sugar than scents. Shun nearly choked laughing,
covering his mouth with squid stained fingers.
On the screen. The trailer cut to Ray's laugh
during the tongue twister, Jin's steady smirk, then the caption
again. Friend or rival?
Find out this week on Rookie Carnival.
Ryan hadn't touched his bowl of noodles.
He sat forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the screen.
When he finally spoke, his tone was low.
But sure, it's good for us. Even if it's hyped, it puts SNWB
in the same sentence as Obsidian.
That matters. Keon rolled his eyes.
Yeah, great, as long as people remember which one of us is the
actual group, not someone's ex classmate sidekick.
Ray chuckled, though the corner of his grin faltered.
Shun quickly nudged the mood back, holding up his phone.
Look, the hashtags are already trending.
People are saying both groups feel fresher because of it.
The trailer looped again. The same captions, the same
freeze frames. For the boys, it had already
become background noise. For the fans, it was gasoline.
The show finally rolled past the trailers into the games
themselves. Ray's face filled the laptop
screen, his grin wide, posture perfect, the camera cutting
close every time he moved. Wow.
Kian said flatly, taking another bite of his banana.
You look 10 times better on camera than in real life.
Sean burst out laughing, nearly dropping his dried squid.
It's true, Hyun, the camera loves you.
Ray threw a cushion across the room.
I plan none of that natural talent.
Oh please. Tian shot back, smirking.
That balance pose staged. You practiced that in the
mirror? Ryan, who hadn't laughed yet,
finally cracked a small smile. He did, I saw him.
Ray groaned, shoving his face into his hands as the others
howled. Then the infamous clip rolled,
the host leaning in, teasing about the high school reunion.
Jin's face, Ray's careful smile, the caption flash in gold.
Just familiar. The three boys all turned to
look at him at once, grinning like wolves.
Just familiar, huh? Kian mimicked, voice high and
mocking. He wrinkled his nose
dramatically. If I was there, I'd tell the
truth. Ray has nasty feet.
Smell. It stinks.
Stinky Ray. Young Shun laughed so hard he
had to cover his face with both hands.
Ryan joined in, deadpan. Don't forget the snorting.
He snores like a train. I have to wear headphones every
night. Ray groaned louder, throwing
another cushion. Traitors, all of you.
But Shun lowered his hands, still smiling softly.
Not me. I admire Ray Young, he's the
coolest. The room quieted for a beat.
Ray blinked, the teasing faltering.
Then Kian leaned in quick, locking an arm tight around
Shun's shoulders. And me?
What about me, huh? Say it.
Shun laughed nervously, squirming.
Kian squeezed harder, grinning. Say it.
Shun finally blurted, half laughing.
You're cooler, hyung. Cooler.
The words came out rushed, but Key and smirk shifted for just a
second. His grin wasn't sharp, it was
real. Ray shook his head, tossing
another cushion. Unbelievable.
You're all against me. But the laughter that filled the
dorm wasn't heavy. It was warm, the kind that made
even rivalry feel far away. SNWB.
The practice room was dim, the piano lights spilling over sheet
music and cables. Ryan sat on the bench with his
phone in hand, thumb hovering over the screen.
A message glowed at the top. Are you eating well?
I listen to your song every hour.
Done over work, mom? His lips curved faintly, but
before he could type a reply, the door creaked open.
Ryan, let's start, The vocal coach said, gesturing him toward
the mic stand. He slid the phone into his
pocket, rose and bowed politely. For hours, the ballad poured out
of him, verse by verse, line by line.
The coach adjusted posture, corrected vowels, had him repeat
sections until his throat ached again, softer this time.
Hold the note longer. Feel it in your chest, not your
throat. Yes, like that.
Keep it there. Ryan obeyed every cue, sweat
dampening his hair, his shirt clinging.
The song unfolded fuller, each attempt less like practice, more
like confession. At last, the coach closed the
music file, satisfied. Good.
You'll sing this in front of the others tomorrow.
Keep your voice strong. Drink plenty of water tonight.
Rest. Ryan bowed again, deeper this
time, his breath unsteady when the coach left, The room felt
heavier in its silence. Hours had slipped by.
Pulling his phone free, Ryan finally tapped his mother's
message. His thumb hesitated before he
pressed call instead of reply. The line rang once, twice, and
then her voice filled his ear, soft, familiar, carrying all the
warmth he'd been holding back. Ryan.
Her voice was gentle, a little surprised.
It's late. He swallowed, leaning back
against the wall. I'm OK, Mom, just finished
practice. Did you eat?
A soft laugh escaped him. Tired but real.
Yeah, don't worry. There was a pause, then her
voice softened even more. I'm proud of you, son, I love
you. Ryan closed his eyes, the ache
in his throat forgotten. Thank you, I needed to hear
that. Silence lingered, not heavy but
warm, like home, reaching across the line.
When he finally hung up, his phone screen dimmed to black for
a moment, the reflection staring back at him wasn't an idol
trainee, just the sun breathing easier.
SNWB. The practice room smelled of
resin and sweat, mirrors lined with smudges from weeks of
drills. All four boys stood side by
side, water bottles clutched, towels draped around their
necks. The producer entered with a file
in hand, flanked by the vocal coach.
He set a tablet on the piano, pressing play.
A piano line filled the room, gentle, bare, almost fragile.
Not the pounding beats they trained to for debut.
The boys glanced at each other, puzzled.
This, the producer said, voice flat but certain.
Is your next track different from the debut?
A ballad? The company wants to show range.
Ray raised his brows, curious but unfazed.
Shun straightened, eyes wide. Kian scoffed under his breath,
already restless. Then the producer looked up.
Ryan stepped forward. Ryan froze, towel still in his
hand. The producer gestured again.
Slowly, he moved to the mic. The backing track rolled again.
Ryan inhaled, eyes fixed on the mirror.
The first note slipped out, raw, steady, the kind of sound that
didn't need flash. His voice filled the practice
room, stretching across the mirrors, wrapping around the
others. Shun's lips parted in awe,
forgetting to breathe. Ray's grin faded into something
quieter, almost proud. And Kien.
His smirk froze, then faltered. His eyes locked on Ryan, a storm
flickering underneath. Admiration, resentment.
Something else he couldn't name. The song ended.
Silence rang, louder than the piano.
The producer only nodded. Good.
Tomorrow we'll refine. Dismissed, he left with the
coach, the door clicking shut. The four boys stayed where they
were, the quiet heavier than the air conditioning.
Ryan finally lowered his head, wiping his face with the towel.
Shun whispered first, soft, sincere.
That was beautiful. Ray clapped him lightly on the
back, forcing brightness back into the room.
Kian said nothing, His jaw tightened, fists curling at his
sides. Ryan didn't meet his eyes.
The door swung open again. Their manager stepped in
briskly, clapping his hands. Boys, get ready.
We've got a performance to do. SNWB.
The van hummed down the highway, blue phone light flickering
across tired faces. Shun leaned in close to Kian,
their screen glowing live on fans feeds.
Look, look, say hi. Shun grinned, waving.
Kian smirked, draping an arm across Shun's shoulders for the
camera. The comments exploded with heart
emojis. Shun laughed, cheeks pink
across. Ray nudged Ryan with his knee.
So is that why you've been coming to bed late, sneaking off
to sing alone? Ryan blinked, caught, then let
out the faintest laugh. Something like that.
Ray grinned, reaching over to tickle his side.
Ryan twisted, trying to shove him off, laughter breaking
through the silence for a moment.
The weight lifted. Backstage, the noise roared.
Staff shouting cues, makeup artists starting in with brushes
and powder. The boys stood in a huddle,
breath steading as final touches brushed across their cheeks.
Ray tugged his jacket into place.
Shun tightened his grip on the mic.
Kian cracked his knuckles, smirk half formed.
Ryan stood in the center, eyes steady, forehand stacked, sweat
damp against skin. Ryan's voice cut through the
chaos, strong, sharp. Who are we?
SNWB. Who SNWB.
The chant hit like Thunder. The lights rose.
The stage waited. Every stage, every chant, every
cheer only hides what they're carrying alone.
Ryan sings what no one else hears, his voice carrying more
than the group knows. Ray shines in front of cameras,
the world already calling his name.
Kian burns with fire, fighting shadows even in laughter and
Shun watching, listening quietly, holding every piece
together. The stage made them a name, but
in the quiet choices are waiting songs they never asked for,
feelings they never plan, and a bond that will be tested again
when fire meets silence. This is we, Rs and WB episode 3
In Our Breath. Follow the story, subscribe and
don't miss what comes next as Ray, Ryan, Keon and Sean step
into the spotlight where every performance writes their future.
In Our Breath is available now. Find a link in the description,
listen and enjoy.