Chapter 12
Eun Wol barely registered the soft thud of his door closing behind him. His breath came in quick, uneven bursts, heart hammering like a warning drum that refused to quiet down. The message on his phone seared into his mind, hotter than the summer sun pressing against the city skyline:
[Oppa, I am so tired.]
Tired. The word spun inside him, heavy and dangerous. What did she mean by it? Was it just exhaustion, or something worse lurking beneath?
He didn't wait for answers. Didn't wait for reason or logic to settle in. His hands moved on instinct, tugging his mask up, pulling his cap low. The city outside blared with traffic, voices, and neon signs, but to him it was muted, irrelevant. Every sound was drowned out by the frantic pounding of his own pulse.
Every step he took was laced with regret, sharp and biting. His last words to Gyu In still clung to his throat, bitter as ash. He could see flashes of the tense silence, the flickering cartoon light across the couch, the quiet distance in Gyu In's eyes.
None of it mattered now.
Only one thing did.
He had to find Eun Bin.
It didn't take long before he reached her dorm. The building stood modest yet well-kept, one of several low-rises clustered together like a quiet community set apart from the noise of the city. Painted in soft, muted tones, it had an almost calming presence, as though it was meant to protect the lives within. Flower beds edged the paved walkway, small bursts of colour against trimmed bushes that framed the neat concrete path.
By the entrance, a security guard sat alert beneath the soft glow of the overhead lamp. His eyes swept over the quiet street with practiced vigilance, his posture steady but unyielding.
Eun Wol barely slowed as he approached, chest heaving, urgency pulsing in his every stride. But before he could push past the gate, a firm hand caught his arm, halting him in place.
"Hey!" The guard's voice was low, sharp with authority. "Who are you?"
Eun Wol's mouth opened, but the words knotted inside him. His mind was a blur, his throat dry.
"You can't just rush in here," the guard pressed, grip tightening. "If you're not a resident, someone has to come down and meet you. Otherwise, you're not getting through."
Eun Wol blinked rapidly, fumbling with trembling hands for his phone. He hit Eun Bin's name, listening desperately as the dial tone rang on. No answer. His chest clenched tighter.
"Please," he managed, his voice breaking with raw urgency. "I just need to see my sister. Eun Bin—she sent me a message, then nothing after that."
The guard's eyes narrowed, his voice laced with suspicion. "Eun Bin? Shim Eun Bin?"
Without thinking, Eun Wol yanked down his mask, his breath catching in his throat. "I'm Shim Eun Wol."
Recognition flickered in the guard's eyes. His expression hardened in an instant. "You are Shim Eun Wol?" The voice that followed was sharp, like steel cutting through air. "I can't let you in. Manager Park—your sister's manager—gave strict orders. No visitors. Especially not you."
"You can call her down then," Eun Wol pressed, his voice taut with urgency.
"I can't just wait around while she's shutting me out," he continued, words shaking with restrained anger. "If you won't let me in, then who the hell will? Someone needs to answer for this."
The guard blinked, thrown off for half a second by the force of Eun Wol's glare, before slipping back into a cold smirk.
"Nope. If you're that worried, call the police."
Eun Wol let out a laugh that was closer to a scoff, bitter and sharp as shattered glass.
"All of you… just downgraded trash." His voice cut through the quiet like venom. He turned on his heel, but not before throwing one last glare over his shoulder.
"Money rules everything, huh?"
He ran. Ran like he could outrun the heaviness pressing down on his chest. He didn't stop for air, didn't care about the burn in his lungs, until his feet carried him to the only place that made sense next.
The company.
The lobby hit him with sterile brightness with white walls, polished floors, the suffocating calm of corporate order. His footsteps slammed against the marble, echoing like accusations in a cathedral.
The receptionist shot up from her chair, startled. "S-sir, do you have an appointment…?"
"I need to see Shim Eun Bin." His voice was clipped, hard. "Where is she?"
The receptionist faltered, recognition dawning in her eyes. "I… I'm not allowed to give out that information -"
"I'm her brother." His voice rose, raw with frustration. "You don't need permission to tell her own family where she is."
The tension thickened. Heads lifted from behind desks, whispers spilling like wildfire. Curious eyes lingered too long.
"Eun Wol-ssi."
Manager Park stepped out from the corridor like a shadow that had been waiting for its cue. Smooth, composed, his gaze slid past the gathering audience before landing squarely on Eun Wol.
"You should leave."
Eun Wol turned fully toward him, every muscle tense. "Where is she?"
Park closed the distance by a step, lowering his voice but sharpening it like a blade. "Do you really want to make this big? Do you not mind appearing on headlines again?"
A pause. His words shifted, precise and cruel.
"What about your sister?"
The sentence landed like a gut punch. Eun Wol's fists clenched until his knuckles ached. Not here. Not with all these eyes watching. But the fury clawed inside him.
"Eun Wol."
The familiar voice pulled his head up. Ji Hun stood by the elevator hallway, jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, brows furrowed in surprise. His steps slowed as he registered the scene, the stares, the tension heavy in the air.
For a brief moment, silence wrapped around them. An awkward recognition that neither knew how to fill. Ji Hun's eyes flicked to Manager Park, then back to Eun Wol.
"What's going on?"
Manager Park exhaled, feigning nonchalance. He gave a small shrug as though this was a minor nuisance, then patted Ji Hun's shoulder lightly. His voice dropped low, words curling with intent.
"Your friend's causing a scene. Perhaps you should talk to him." A pause, sharper. "Make sure he does not get inside."
Ji Hun raised a hand slightly, as if to stop him, but Park was already gliding away down the corridor, arrogance in every step, leaving chaos in his wake.
Ji Hun turned back.
Eun Wol stood stiff, fists clenched tight at his sides, chest heaving beneath his jacket. His cap was askew, his mask dangling from one ear. He looked like he had run until his body gave out. Looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Eun Wol…" Ji Hun's voice was lower now, careful, as though speaking to someone who might break. "What happened?"
"She texted me. She said she's tired." Eun Wol's voice cracked, disbelief bleeding through. "Then nothing. No reply. No one will tell me where she is."
Ji Hun's brows furrowed deeper, concern replacing surprise as he stepped closer. "Did you try her manager?"
Eun Wol's laugh was bitter, humourless. He motioned toward the corridor where Park had vanished. "That was him. And he just told me to leave like I'm some crazy outsider."
The receptionist shifted awkwardly, eyes darting everywhere but at them, pretending to be busy. Behind the glass panels, a few lingering gazes pressed against their backs.
Ji Hun exhaled, glancing around before lowering his voice. "You can't do this here. Not like this."
"Then how?" Eun Wol's voice cracked sharp against the air. "She needs me. And you… You must know something."
Silence. A silence stretched long enough to become an answer in itself.
Ji Hun finally spoke, voice clipped, uneasy. "Eun Bin's… fine. I heard she's just been tired. Manager Park said she's under pressure, but it's not what you think."
Eun Wol's breath caught. He stared at him. "Not what I think?"
Ji Hun tried again, gentler this time, almost careful. "Sometimes she's asked to entertain clients. It's normal in this industry. I don't like it either, but—"
"But you stood by and watched it happen," Eun Wol cut him off, sharp as broken glass. "You think I'm mad over a dinner? Do you even hear yourself?"
Ji Hun's lips parted, but nothing came out.
"She texted me. Said she was tired. Then silence." Eun Wol stepped closer, voice shaking, low but violent. "You think I wouldn't come running? You think I'm like you? Just close enough to feel guilty, but never enough to do something?"
Ji Hun frowned, his voice tightening. "That's not fair -"
"No," Eun Wol hissed. "What's not fair is my sister being paraded around like bait for deals while you act like your hands are clean. You think I'm spiraling again, is that it? That I'm overreacting? Like last time?"
The silence that followed hit harder than any words could.
"Maybe you haven't changed at all," Eun Wol whispered, half to himself. "Still too scared to pick a side unless it's spotless."
Ji Hun said nothing. And that silence said everything.
Eun Wol left the company, but the storm inside him raged hotter with every step.
He felt the weight of whispering voices ripple around him. He didn't need to look, he already knew.
"That's him, right? The one who got kicked out?"
"Why's he back here? Isn't he banned or something?"
Not loud, but not hidden either.
Eun Wol clenched his jaw, walking faster. He adjusted his mask and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, as if pressure alone could hold the anger inside.
Don't snap. Don't give them more reasons to talk.
But the heat behind his eyes refused to fade. The weight in his chest pressed harder, suffocating with every step. He didn't even know where he was going, only that stopping now meant collapse.
He turned into a narrow alley behind the building. Empty. Quiet.
His legs gave out.
He sank to the ground, back against the wall, arms locking tight around his knees. The air felt thick, too heavy, too thin like it couldn't reach his lungs.
He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, trying to swallow it all. The tears, the shaking, the scream scraping raw at his throat.
Don't cry. Not here.
A soft shuffle of footsteps made him freeze.
He looked up.
A young idol stood at the mouth of the alley. Barely eighteen. One of the rookies. Familiar face, forgotten name.
The boy stared too long.
And then came that look - soft, unsure, pity.
Eun Wol's stomach twisted.
The boy bowed quickly and slipped away without a word, disappearing as fast as he had appeared.
But that look clung to Eun Wol's ribs like a parasite.
Not fear. Not respect. Just pity.
Like he was already a ghost.
The boy disappeared, but the expression stayed. That pity. That awkward, quiet stare like he was nothing but a tragic leftover from a past no one wanted to remember.
Eun Wol's breath hitched, not from sadness, not even anger. Just humiliation, bitter and sharp.
He scrubbed his face roughly with the back of his sleeve and pushed himself up. His knees ached. His back stung cold from the wall. But he stood anyway.
No one was supposed to look at him like that.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
His chest tightened as if someone had looped a rope around his ribs and pulled. All he could think about now was getting out.
He didn't know if he would vomit or faint, but he knew where he needed to go.
Home. Just go home.
He stuffed his hands deep into his jacket pockets and walked out of the alley without looking back, head bowed. Let them whisper. Let them talk.
He was done giving them a show.
Back at the apartment, Eun Wol locked the door with a shaky hand. The silence rushed at him like a tide, swallowing him whole.
He leaned against the door, eyes closed, trying to steady the ragged rise and fall of his chest. Not here. Not now.
Dragging himself to the bathroom, he twisted the shower on. Scalding water poured over him, searing his skin. It burned, but no heat could melt the stone lodged in his chest.
Later, in the dark of his room, he sat on the floor. His phone buzzed again. Another ignored message, another spam call.
His fingers trembled as they reached for the bottle stood in the corner.
One sip. Another.
His breaths grew heavier, the walls closing in, pressing closer.
Tears slipped quietly down his face. He swallowed hard, trying to choke back the sobs clawing their way free.
But the dam broke anyway.
And for the first time in days, Eun Wol let himself fall apart.