As soon as Joen.J settled into the car, worry clouded his face. His assistant, Jea, quickly opened the door while Sangho—his father's trusted driver—started the engine and pulled away from the airport.
Gunwoo, his personal guard, glanced at him from the front seat.
"Joen.J, don't worry. Bamson will be fine—we'll find him."
But Joen.J only shook his head, tension tightening every word.
"Sangho, any update?"
Sangho's hands gripped the steering wheel.
"Still no sign of him, hyung. We're searching everywhere."
Joen.J pressed his lips together, fighting the rising panic. His heart pounded painfully. Bamson was alone somewhere—scared, confused. The thought was suffocating.
"I didn't even think," he muttered under his breath. "I just… left." His fists clenched on his lap.
Leaning forward slightly, he spoke again.
"Sangho, take me to Appa's house first. I need to check everything myself."
The car sped through the night. The streets and narrow alleys of Busan held pieces of his childhood, pieces of his comfort. Whenever he traveled abroad for concerts, he always left Bamson at his parents' house. They adored him—his mother even called Bamson her "third son," and his father took him on long evening walks around the neighborhood. It was the only place Joen.J ever trusted.
Sangho nodded and pressed the accelerator.
Joen.J leaned his head back, closing his eyes as the city blurred past. His mind was restless, filled with fear for Bamson. Where could he have gone? Was he safe?
Then—
A voice.
Soft. Almost like a whisper. Yet clear enough to send a shiver through him.
His eyes snapped open. He looked around the car, shocked, breath catching in his throat. Streetlights flickered through the windows, illuminating only Sangho, Jea, and Gunwoo. No one else.
But the voice still echoed in his ears.
A familiar voice.
His mind raced. He scanned the car again. Nothing.
And then it struck him.
The airplane.
Hours earlier, on the flight to Busan, a girl had been sitting right behind his seat. He had been exhausted, too overwhelmed to pay attention—but now, the memory surfaced.
She had been talking softly to someone…
Her tone filled with emotion.
The same voice he was hearing now.
His chest tightened. Why is her voice echoing in my head?
He turned toward the window as the city whooshed by, but his thoughts stayed locked on the girl's voice.
Who was she? Why is her voice cutting through all this chaos? And what was she saying?
Slowly, the words returned to him.
She had been praying.
"Ya Allah, guide him. Bring him to the right path. Make his heart recognize the truth. Give him peace, Ya Allah. Help him find the way to You…"
And she had been saying something else—
Lyrics.
Their lyrics.
From one of their songs.
She had been reciting them quietly while speaking to someone.
Confusion washed through him.
What was that? Why her? Why now?
He squeezed his eyes shut.
No. I can't think about this right now. Bamson first. Everything else later.
He lowered his forehead against the back of the front seat, drawing a long, shaky breath.
After an hour and a half, the car reached his parents' house. He greeted the staff quickly, but his expression was distant. Without wasting time, he began searching the house again—every room, closet, corner, garden path.
But nothing.
Bamson was nowhere.
"When you call me Appa, my heart beats fast," his father said emotionally. "You don't know—Bamson is like a son to me. When I heard he was lost, I didn't know what to do."
The staff nodded in agreement.
"Bamson is family."
Joen.J updated Kim Joon, who reassured him:
"If you want to go find Bamson yourself, go. But these are practice days. You must come back before the concert. If you don't, we'll have to tell the media—everyone is expecting all members to be present."
"I'll come back," Joen.J promised. "I just hope Bamson is okay. I'll find him and return in time."
He packed immediately for the nearest available flight. Only a connecting route through Thailand was available, and all business-class seats were full. Only three scattered economy seats remained.
He didn't care. He took them instantly. Gunwoo and Jea joined him, doing their best to keep him hidden from the crowd.
Now, back in Busan, he stood in the yard of his parents' house, calling out orders.
"Call an animal tracker," he said firmly.
"Are you sure, hyung?" Jea asked.
"Yes."
Within minutes, a tracker arrived and began searching.
Joen.J stood still, staring at the ground, heart heavy, mind swirling—not just with fear for Bamson, but with the memory of that girl's voice.
Why had he heard her prayer again?
Why now?
He pressed a hand to his forehead and exhaled sharply.
But none of it mattered right now.
Only one thing mattered—
Finding Bamson.
To be continued…
Regards
ZK💌