Hyunwoo Walker's life had become quiet. Too quiet.
Nearly two years had passed since he vanished from Seoul's glittering spotlight. No more runways.
No more cameras. No more women with fire in their eyes and chains disguised as affection.
Thanks to his American father, Hyunwoo had managed to disappear. A small house in a quiet suburb became his refuge - simple, livable, stocked with food and necessities that were delivered regularly so he never needed to step foot outside.
It was safety. It was survival.
But it wasn't living.
Every morning was the same.
He woke alone to the muted gray light spilling through his curtains. Breakfast was never more than eggs, rice, and black coffee - functional, flavorless.
The routine was efficient, predictable, something he could control. Afterward, he worked out. Push-ups. Pull-ups. Cardio in the living room. Weights stacked neatly in a corner.
His body remained sculpted, sharp, perfect. Not because he wanted it to be, but because he was terrified of what would happen if he let it fade.
His face and figure were the only things people ever cared about. Even if he no longer stood on stage, even if he swore never to model again, the image of perfection clung to him like a curse.
When sweat dripped from his brow and his muscles ached, Hyunwoo showered, dried off, and sat at his desk. A plain setup: monitor, microphone, headset. This was where he felt most human.
He streamed under an alias, his camera turned off. To his viewers, he was just another gamer with a soothing voice, an easy laugh, and a knack for strategy.
They didn't care about his past, his looks, or his fame. They only knew him as "Echo."
And for a few hours each day, Hyunwoo could pretend he was normal. He could smile for real.
But when the stream ended, the silence returned.
The house pressed in on him like a cage. The fridge hummed. The clock ticked. Outside, life moved on - neighbors walking their dogs, children running to school, couples heading out for the evening.
Hyunwoo watched sometimes, from behind his curtain, hidden in the shadows. He longed for it, yet dreaded it.
Because the outside world was dangerous.
Whenever he stepped beyond his walls - rarely, only to buy something his deliveries couldn't cover - he moved like a fugitive. Hoodie pulled low, mask covering half his face, hands tucked in his pockets.
Every glance from a stranger felt like a threat. Every brush of eye contact sent panic down his spine.
What if they recognized him?
What if a phone camera caught him?
What if the past came crashing down?
What if his mother, his two sisters, his ex-girlfriends spotted him?
That particular thought sent chill down his spine.
Those thoughts never left. Even in his sleep, Hyunwoo sometimes woke drenched in sweat, heart racing, haunted by dreams of his mother's scolding, his sisters' manipulations, and the suffocating stares of the women who once called him theirs.
The house was safe. The house was prison.
He chose safety.
Day after day, Hyunwoo repeated the cycle. Eat. Train. Stream. Sleep.
No friends. No family visits. No real laughter outside the screen.
Hyunwoo Walker had escaped the spotlight. But in exchange, he had locked himself in the shadows.
And though he didn't yet know it, shadows don't stay quiet forever.