"Li Hong, wai—" I hung up and walked back into the car, sitting down to catch my breath. A knock came at the driver's side window—Na Daejung bent down, signaling me to unlock the door. Click. He opened it, slid inside, and pointed forward. Our car was parked behind a suburban hospital. Half an hour had already passed.
"I spoke with the doctor," I said.
"What did he say?" Daejung nodded, his face unreadable.
"Seokjin's heart is about to stop from the impact. Ji Sanghye's lung is punctured, and his organs are failing."
"Can we transfer them? Isn't the equipment here usable?"
"This is an outer hospital. They don't keep artificial hearts in reserve. The doctors said if we tried to move them into the city now, it would be too late. Even getting transport here would take at least ten fucking minutes. The only option is immediate heart surgery. But the problem is—who signs off if not the parents?"
"Alright, i'll talk to the doc," Daejung replied, his tone flat, as if life and death meant nothing to him. Of course, I knew exactly what he was trying to do.
"But, we need the family's consent!" I protested his action.
"You want to drop the fucking gold mine? I don't care if that Wolves fucker dies. MR. WHITE WILL LIVE~!~" Daejung shouted in madness. "...Besides, his friend Sanghye already agreed to donate, didn't he?" He snapped, jabbing a finger at me. "Don't you dare speak to the press. Tell those morons too. Stay in their fuckin' rooms and shut 'em fucking mouths; don't show your faces. I'll deal with the old man involved in the accident and handle the press conference myself." Daejung clenched his teeth, his hand striking my face hard enough to make me tremble.
"Do you understand, boy?"
I nodded reluctantly. "Mm…"
"Good. Stay quiet, and this won't reach your father." He stepped out of the car, heading toward the reporters gathering at the hospital entrance.
In this company, human lives were nothing more than numbers. Bigger numbers meant more value. The most dangerous thing might be right beside us, unseen—or ignored. Because we had once been that kind of person too… the kind who looked at us like flies. No different from that vile father. I rubbed my eyes, clenched my fists, and slammed the steering wheel.
"Damn it!" Slam. Slam. Slam.
"NA DAE JUNG, YOU MOTHERFUCKER~~!!~~"
A pale violet butterfly burst through the hypercar's window, chasing after Daejung. A swarm of flies attacked, forcing it to soar higher. Moonlight faded into the first rays of dawn. It glided over treetops and landed on the balcony of the emergency ward, where two men in black suits smoked cigarettes. The butterfly peered inside: on the bed lay a man with silver hair, unconscious, oxygen tubes feeding his breath. Two more men in black sat on the sofa, watching over him. The butterfly slipped through the sliding door and merged into the patient's arm…
…I used to wonder why I chose this path. I never found an answer. Maybe envy. Maybe it was the only refuge I had. I don't even know how I ended up here, thinking I had nothing special. Was it admiration? Luck? I don't know anymore…
"That's why you have to wake up," a mysterious voice called.
I opened my eyes and found myself standing in a field of flowers, the wind brushing against my face. Before me rested an acoustic guitar, a heart carved into its body, leaning against a rock. Behind it stood the great family tree that had lasted for generations.
I stepped forward to take it. "Do you like my guitar?" A soft hand touched my shoulder. I turned to see a man who looked like me—taller, older, with a stubbled jaw and black hair streaked with white. He smiled knowingly, repeating his question.
I shook my head. "N-no, not really," my voice suddenly that of a child again.
"This path… if you're not cool enough, you'll starve~ as hell."
"Then why are you still doing it, Seokjae?" I asked about his profession.
"Because… it makes me happy. You might not understand yet. Simply put, it's the life of a musician."
"Playing guitar, singing for money, sounds boring." I thought of beggars on the street.
Seokjae smiled at my innocence. "You're not wrong. But for me, it's more than that. If you want to be a musician, I can teach you."
"Really?" I asked again.
"Go on. Try holding my guitar." He gestured toward the instrument.
Hmm. I was beginning to understand. Maybe this was what my brother meant all along.
Gasp! I jolted awake in the hospital room, tearing open the patient gown. No stitches marked my chest. I shook my head, disoriented from the strange dream. "Seokjin!" Juwon and the manager rushed to my side. Baek and Kangyu, who had been smoking outside, threw down their cigarettes and hurried in.