After everyone had left, silence engulfed the house.
The kind of silence that finally allowed you to catch your breath...
Yet no matter how quiet the world around him became, Minsoo couldn't silence the voice that relentlessly condemned him from within.
Even though he was the victim...
A broken part of him refused to believe it.
Why me?
Who did this to me?
Could I have... hurt her?
Has my mind really fallen apart to this extent?
The voices returned, buzzing inside his head as though they had been waiting for the exact moment his resolve weakened.
"The smell of guilt clings to you..."
"You've paid the price for your sins."
His entire body went rigid.
There were two voices...
Yet they carried the exact same tone.
As though one person was speaking through two different mouths.
Were they merely hallucinations?
Or fragments of a mystery whose final thread still eluded him?
Slowly, he lay back on the bed and draped an arm over his eyes.
Silence stretched on.
After a while, he lowered his arm and opened his eyes again.
His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling...
Not like someone staring absentmindedly overhead—
But as if someone were standing directly above him.
A smile tugged at his lips.
A mocking...
Provocative smile.
Then he closed his eyes once more.
Somewhere else...
Behind dozens of glowing monitors...
A man sitting in a wheelchair suddenly lurched forward.
He leaned toward the screen displaying a live feed of Minsoo's bedroom, watching it as though it were a reality show he couldn't bear to miss.
His lips trembled.
He moved closer...
And closer still...
Until his cheek rested against the screen.
His fingers slowly traced the outline of Minsoo's face on the display, as though he could actually feel his skin.
Strange, unintelligible murmurs escaped his throat.
Then, in a sharp, icy voice that slithered like a serpent's hiss, he whispered,
"Thank you... Minsoo."
"For staying alive."
A warped smile spread across his face.
"I was afraid..."
"Truly afraid..."
"That someone else would steal the honor of killing you from me."
A low chuckle escaped him, his eyes never leaving Minsoo's image.
"You're important..."
"Far too precious..."
"So... I won't grant you death."
A brief silence followed.
Then he whispered,
"Death... is a reward."
"And you..."
"You haven't earned it yet."
A notification chimed from the phone resting on the bedside table, its screen lighting up.
Minsoo stirred sluggishly.
The deep, uneven rhythm of his breathing revealed that he'd only managed to fall into a brief, exhausted sleep.
He muttered under his breath,
"...Who is it now?"
But the instant his eyes landed on the sender's name—
Soo Jin.
Every trace of sleep vanished.
He opened the message immediately.
One video.
And a single sentence.
"Minsoo hyung... I hope you find what you're looking for."
Without hesitation, he pressed play.
The footage began to roll.
It wasn't unfamiliar.
It belonged to the past...
The very beginning.
Five young men meeting a small group of fans at a modest event, long before the world knew their names.
A woman in her thirties stepped forward.
She was carrying a gift for Minsoo.
From the very first moment...
There was something deeply unsettling about the way she looked at him.
Her possessiveness was far more apparent than admiration.
She complimented his quiet personality.
She said the calmness he carried gave him a charisma far beyond his years.
Then she opened the gift.
Inside...
A pair of shoes.
The same brand.
The same design.
Even the color...
It was identical to the pair Minsoo was wearing.
With an oddly cheerful smile, she said,
"I noticed you always wear these shoes."
Then she asked,
"Would you trade them with me?"
Silence fell.
Minsoo smiled awkwardly.
He thought she was joking.
She wasn't.
She insisted.
Her voice gradually grew louder as she accused him of not caring about his fans' feelings.
He apologized politely.
"These shoes..."
"They're very precious to me."
"I can't give them away."
But she refused to let it go.
"I want them as a keepsake."
Minsoo let out a quiet sigh.
"If you'd like..."
"You can have my jacket."
"But not the shoes."
The exchange dragged on.
The group was still in its early days, and with the event organizers urging him to resolve the situation, Minsoo eventually had no choice but to hand over the shoes.
The video ended.
Yet Minsoo didn't blink.
His eyes remained fixed on the woman's face.
Then he replayed it.
Again.
And again.
He wasn't studying her appearance...
He was listening.
To the tone of her voice.
To the way she pronounced every word.
Then—
His pupils suddenly contracted.
His grip tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white.
Barely above a whisper, he murmured,
"...It's her."
There was no longer the slightest room for doubt.
He immediately opened his chat with his manager.
His fingers flew across the screen.
Find her.