[Kei]
The practice room was empty.
For once.
No music.
No managers.
No staff knocking on doors.
Just silence.
Kei sat on the floor with his back against the mirror.
His phone rested beside him.
The screen lit up.
Then darkened.
Then lit up again.
Notifications.
Messages.
Schedules.
Reminders.
He ignored all of them.
Instead—
his gaze drifted toward the corner of the room.
A habit.
An old one.
Because there had been a time when he practically lived in rooms like this.
Training.
Practicing.
Repeating the same dance until his legs gave out.
Repeating it again anyway.
The memories came easier these days.
Which was strange.
For years, he'd done everything possible not to think about them.
Yet recently—
they kept returning.
His phone vibrated.
This time, he looked.
Mrs. Yoon.
A message.
Meeting tomorrow. 10 a.m.
Kei sighed.
That probably wasn't a good sign.
Nothing involving Mrs. Yoon ever was.
He placed the phone face down.
A second later—
it vibrated again.
This time—
No-Ah.
The corner of his mouth lifted automatically.
A reaction he still hadn't figured out how to stop.
Eaten dinner yet?
Kei stared.
Then laughed quietly.
Because after everything—
Out of so many things, that was apparently the question she'd chosen.
Not:
"How's work? "
"How's practice been going? "
"How's your career? "
"How's your life? "
No.
Just...
Eaten dinner yet?
He typed back.
Yes.
A pause.
Then—
Actually yes.
A longer pause.
Then—
A real meal.
Not supplements.
Not protein bars.
Not coffee.
Not convenience store snacks.
A real meal.
Several seconds passed.
Then her reply arrived.
Good.
Kei smiled.
Just slightly.
And for some reason—
that single word felt more satisfying than it should have.
He locked the phone.
Still smiling.
Then froze.
Because someone else's voice suddenly echoed inside his head.
A memory.
A familiar one.
You smile too much around her.
Kei groaned immediately.
"Great."
Now he was remembering that conversation too.
The one with Min-Ho.
The one he'd been trying very hard to forget.
Unfortunately—
his brain didn't cooperate.
"You literally look different."
"I do not."
"You do."
"I don't."
"You do."
The argument had lasted twenty-three minutes.
Min-Ho had counted.
Because apparently he was a terrible friend.
Kei rubbed his face.
Then stood.
The practice room suddenly felt smaller.
Colder.
Too quiet.
His eyes drifted toward the mirror.
And for a brief second—
he barely recognized the person staring back.
Not because he'd changed physically.
Because he hadn't.
But something else felt different.
Lighter.
A little.
Not much.
Just enough to notice.
Just enough to make him uncomfortable.
The phone vibrated again.
Another message.
Unknown number
Kei's expression disappeared instantly.
The small smile vanished.
Gone.
Just like that.
His stomach tightened.
The number wasn't saved.
It didn't need to be.
Because he knew exactly who it was.
He always knew.
The message was short.
One sentence.
I heard you're doing well.
Kei stared.
Then locked the screen.
Immediately.
His jaw tightened.
The room suddenly felt cold again.
Very cold.
The phone vibrated once more.
He didn't look.
Another vibration.
Ignored.
Then another.
Ignored.
The screen eventually went dark.
Silence returned.
But the damage was already done.
Because now he was thinking about things he'd spent years avoiding.
Old practice rooms.
Old promises.
Old friendships.
Old mistakes.
Things better left buried.
His fingers curled slightly.
And despite himself—
he remembered.
A younger version of himself.
A smaller practice room.
Laughter.
Music.
Someone throwing an arm over his shoulder.
Someone saying—
"We'll debut together."
Kei shut his eyes.
Immediately.
As though that could stop the memory.
It didn't.
Because memories were annoying like that.
They showed up whenever they wanted.
Especially the ones you didn't want.
His phone vibrated again.
No-Ah.
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly.
You didn't fall asleep on the practice room floor, right?
Kei stared at the message.
Then laughed.
Actually laughed.
Alone.
In an empty practice room.
Which felt ridiculous.
He typed back.
No.
Good.
That's it?
Yeah.
Kei looked at the screen.
Then typed:
Really? That's all?
Several seconds passed.
Then—
Did you want a gold star?
He laughed again.
Louder this time.
And for a moment—
everything else disappeared.
The messages.
The memories.
The unknown number.
All of it.
Gone.
Just for a second.
Then another vibration arrived.
Unknown Number.
Again.
The smile disappeared.
Again.
This time—
the message was different.
Shorter.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
Have you told her yet?
Kei's eyes narrowed.
The screen suddenly felt much brighter.
His thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Then stopped.
Because there was only one question.
One terrifying question.
How much did Jae-Won know?
And perhaps more importantly—
What exactly was he planning?
For the first time in months—
Kei felt the old unease returning.
The one he thought he'd left behind years ago.
And somewhere deep inside—
a feeling he couldn't explain settled heavily in his chest.
The feeling that something was coming.
And whatever it was—
it wasn't going to stay buried much longer.
☆ ☆ ☆
[Kei]
The next morning—
Kei arrived at NOCTIS Entertainment at 9:57 a.m.
Three minutes early.
Not because he was nervous.
At least—
that's what he told himself.
The elevator doors opened.
The familiar hallway greeted him.
Usually, this place felt normal.
Busy.
Loud.
People walking around with schedules in their hands.
Staff rushing between meetings.
Trainees practicing in the rooms nearby.
But today—
it felt different.
Too quiet.
Kei already knew something was wrong.
Because Mrs. Yoon's office was never quiet.
Not when she called someone in.
Especially not him.
He stopped in front of the door.
Knocked.
"Come in."
Kei opened the door.
Mrs. Yoon was sitting behind her desk.
No files.
No schedule reports.
No complaints about his training.
Nothing.
That alone made his stomach tighten.
"Sit down."
Kei walked over and sat across from her.
For several seconds—
neither of them spoke.
Mrs. Yoon simply looked at him.
Not like a CEO looking at an artist.
Like someone trying to understand a situation before making a decision.
Finally—
she turned her laptop around.
Kei looked.
And immediately—
his expression changed.
The video.
The café.
No-Ah.
Him.
A moment he thought belonged only to them.
His fingers slowly curled.
"Where did you get this?"
Mrs. Yoon didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she asked:
"Do you recognize it?"
Kei looked at her.
A pointless question.
She already knew the answer.
"Yes."
A pause.
Then—
"Lee Jae-Won contacted the company yesterday."
The room went silent.
Kei didn't move.
Didn't blink.
But Mrs. Yoon noticed.
Of course she did.
She noticed everything.
"He sent this video personally."
Kei's eyes returned to the screen.
The memory played silently.
No-Ah laughing.
Him smiling.
The version of himself he rarely let people see.
His jaw tightened.
"Why?"
Mrs. Yoon folded her hands.
"That is what I want to know."
Silence.
Kei looked away.
Because he already knew one thing.
Jae-Won never did anything without a reason.
Not then.
Not now.
"He could have sent anything."
Mrs. Yoon's voice was calm.
"But he chose this."
Kei stayed quiet.
"He didn't send us old photos."
She continued.
"He didn't tell us about your trainee days."
A pause.
"He sent us a video of you with her."
Kei's expression hardened.
No-Ah.
Even now—
Jae-Won was involving her.
Mrs. Yoon noticed.
"Kei."
He looked up.
"How much does he know?"
The question stayed in the air.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Kei didn't answer.
Because the truth was—
he didn't know.
And that scared him more than anything.
Mrs. Yoon leaned back slightly.
"He isn't trying to expose you."
Kei frowned.
"What?"
"If he wanted to ruin you, he would have released this publicly."
A pause.
"He wouldn't have contacted the company first."
Kei stared at the screen.
Then slowly understood.
Jae-Won wasn't attacking.
Not yet.
He was waiting.
Watching.
Seeing what everyone would do.
"He wanted a reaction."
Mrs. Yoon nodded.
"Exactly."
The room became colder.
Kei looked down.
His thumb brushed against his phone.
No-Ah's chat was still open.
Her last message was still there.
Good.
Such a simple word.
Yet somehow—
it felt like the one thing keeping him grounded.
Mrs. Yoon watched him quietly.
Then—
"There's something else."
Kei looked up.
Her expression had changed.
Slightly.
But enough.
Because Mrs. Yoon rarely looked uncertain.
"What?"
A pause.
"He asked me a question."
Kei's chest tightened.
"What question?"
Mrs. Yoon looked directly at him.
And for the first time that morning—
Kei wished she hadn't answered.
"Is Kei still the same person he was before?"
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The question stayed there.
Before.
The same word again.
The same word Jae-Won used with Run-Seo.
Before the fame.
Before the rumors.
Before everything changed.
Kei lowered his gaze.
Because he knew what Jae-Won was really asking.
Not about his career.
Not about his image.
Not about NOCTIS.
He was asking—
whether the person he knew was still there.
Mrs. Yoon spoke again.
"Kei."
He looked up.
"What happened between you two?"
For a moment—
he almost answered.
Almost.
But the words stopped.
Because saying it out loud would make it real.
The past he buried.
The promise he broke.
The reason he stopped trusting people.
Everything.
His phone suddenly vibrated.
Both of them looked.
Unknown number
Kei didn't need to check.
He already knew.
Another message.
His hand froze.
Mrs. Yoon noticed.
"Is that him?"
Kei didn't answer.
Because the screen had already lit up.
One sentence.
One message.
One thing that made his blood run cold.
I think it's time she knows the truth, Kei.
Kei stared.
And for the first time—
he wasn't afraid of what Jae-Won would reveal about him.
He was afraid of who Jae-Won meant.
Because there was only one "she."
No-Ah.
☆ ☆ ☆