The stage lights poured down like golden rain, glinting off sequined jackets and sweat-slicked skin. Cheers erupted, wave after wave of sound crashing against the glass walls of the concert hall. From the shadows backstage, Yoon Jiho stood alone, pressed against the cold wall, watching it all unfold with hollow eyes.
Five boys stood at the center of it all—VORTEX. The industry's newest golden idols. Perfect smiles. Perfect moves. Perfect lies.
Jiho's throat tightened. That was supposed to be him.
The final chorus of their title track, Infinity Drive, boomed across the stadium. Jiho could hear Seojin's voice rising above the others—steady, calculated, laced with the fake charm he had once believed in. The crowd chanted along, waving light sticks in coordinated colors. Cameras flew across the air, capturing their synchronized choreography from every flattering angle.
Jiho watched the boy who used to be his best friend—the one who had laughed with him during endless practice nights, cried beside him during trainee evaluations, whispered promises under breathless exhaustion—that same boy now beamed into the lights, as if Jiho had never existed.
The final pose hit.
Crowd: "VORTEX! VORTEX!"
The pyrotechnics exploded, the screens flashed white, and confetti rained down.
Jiho didn't clap. He didn't cry.
He simply turned around, heart quiet in its ruin.
Two Years Ago
The rain that night was the kind that soaked through shoes, skin, and soul. Jiho stood outside the company building with a plastic bag over his head and a box of his belongings clutched to his chest. A security guard hovered awkwardly nearby, as if afraid that Jiho would start shouting, crying, or both.
But Jiho didn't. He simply asked, "Was it Seojin?"
The guard flinched. "I—I don't know anything."
Jiho gave a faint smile. "Yeah. You do."
The door clicked shut behind him, and Jiho stepped into the world again, nameless and exiled.
His dismissal had been swift. No official statement. Just a private meeting with the company director and the head trainer.
"Jiho-ya… you've been struggling lately," the director had said, voice oozing sympathy. "You've missed a few evaluations—"
"Because I was editing your demo tracks until 3 a.m.," Jiho had replied flatly.
"Some of the trainers say your attitude has changed—"
"I covered three absences for Minho, and two for Seojin. They forgot to tell you?"
"There's also… a concern about your public image. There are photos circulating."
Photos. Jiho had seen them. Blurry, obviously edited images of him standing too close to one of the older managers. One frame even made it look like they were holding hands.
A rumor had spread: Jiho was sleeping with staff for favoritism.
Lies. All of it. But the company didn't care.
"We've decided it's best if you quietly terminate your contract."
That was it.
No warning. No appeal.
He was out.
And Seojin?
He hadn't even looked at him as Jiho left the dorm. Not one glance.
Present Day
After the concert ended, Jiho wandered the side streets of Seoul. Neon lights flickered over puddles, and laughter spilled from convenience stores where fans were buying merch and sharing clips on their phones.
He kept walking.
He passed a billboard with VORTEX on it—Seojin in the center, surrounded by perfect smiles.
He paused.
Then, slowly, he pulled up his phone and opened a private folder. A song demo sat there. Title: Ashes Bloom.
His finger hovered over the play button. Then he stopped.
Buzz.
An anonymous number lit up his screen.
[ Unknown: I saw you at the concert. You don't belong in the shadows. ]
[ Unknown: Are you ready to burn them all? ]
Jiho stared at the messages, pulse rising.
[ Unknown: If so, meet me tomorrow. Rooftop of L:ARC Records. 9 PM. Don't be late. ]
Jiho closed his eyes.
The past had buried him.
But maybe this time… he'd be the one digging graves.