It's him…
Lee Woo-jin.
In the middle of the moving crowd inside the airport, he stood there as if a ghost had just stepped out of his own death report.
The same cold smile.
The same gaze.
Min-so felt all the blood drain from his face.
His breath stopped for a second.
Impossible…
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, as if that alone could erase the image from his mind.
— "What is happening to me…?"
And when he opened his eyes again…
Woo-jin was gone.
Only a random young man remained among the fans, waving excitedly in confusion.
Min-so stood still for a moment, staring into the empty space.
Then he moved silently behind the rest of the group.
Hours later, the company dropped each member off at their homes to rest.
But rest…
was something Min-so had not known for a long time.
Especially when anxiety began devouring his mind from within.
He had a bad habit he couldn't break:
Whenever his mind collapsed… he locked himself inside work.
In a dim corner of his home, where the smell of old coffee mixed with electronic dust, Park Min-so sat alone in his private studio.
The faint blue glow of the computer screen cast shifting shadows across his pale face.
In front of him, sound waves moved across the screen like an unstable heartbeat.
He was working on a new track for the group's album.
But something about it…
didn't feel like a song.
It felt like an unfinished confession.
He pressed play.
And his voice flowed through the deep speakers:
"Time… don't betray me."
"Please… just tell me the truth."
"Everything around me feels happy…"
"Happier than it should be."
Min-so slowly closed his eyes.
His voice inside the speakers sounded strange…
distant…
as if someone else was singing instead of him.
The recording continued:
"Even faded smiles… exhaust me."
"I am lost… inside a world painted pink."
"My memories fade… like a torn dream."
"And every time I try to hold them…"
"They slip further away."
He clenched his fist without realizing.
Then the voice continued:
"But… why don't these feelings reach my chest?"
"Why do I stay empty… despite all this beauty?"
"This pain… slowly suffocates me."
"Every time I push it away…"
"It returns in another form…"
"…with a face I don't recognize."
He suddenly opened his eyes.
That line specifically…
sent a strange chill through him.
The recording continued, voice trembling:
"My cold heart… that lost all feeling."
"Why does it still beat?"
"Why does it still hurt?"
"Am I the problem?"
"Or is the world… tilted around me?"
A short silence filled the room.
Even the machines seemed to stop breathing.
Then came the final line:
"Before I lose myself completely…"
"Tell me…"
"Who am I?"
The recording ended.
And silence remained.
Heavy…
suffocating…
broken only by the faint electric hum of the machines.
Min-so played it again.
Then a third time.
And each time…
he felt something was missing.
A black void inside the melody.
Or maybe…
inside himself.
He ran a hand through his hair violently.
— "Something is wrong…"
His voice came out low and broken.
— "Something is missing… but I can't see it."
He scratched his scalp harder, then finally stood up with heavy steps.
As if dragging something invisible behind him.
He walked to the kitchen.
Made himself a cup of black coffee.
The bitter smell was the only thing grounding him to reality.
He returned to the studio, sipping slowly.
Then sat in front of the screen again.
Suddenly…
he noticed something metallic behind the computer.
Half-hidden under tangled wires.
He reached out slowly.
And when he picked it up…
he froze.
The necklace.
The same strange metal necklace.
The twisted letter "W" hanging silently from it.
The moment his fingers touched the cold metal…
something exploded inside his head.
Not just a memory.
But a full assault of distorted sensations.
The sound of a chainsaw tearing through something wet.
Rain hitting a metal roof violently.
And a sharp metallic smell…
blood.
He felt it fill his nose even though the room was clean.
His pupils widened.
And in the background…
his song was still playing.
"Time… don't betray me."
But it no longer sounded like a song.
It sounded like a funeral hymn.
Suddenly…
Lee Woo-jin's face appeared clearly in his mind.
The dressing room before the last interview.
Woo-jin's light laugh.
The necklace hanging from his neck.
He remembered reaching out curiously to examine its strange design.
And then—
The metal suddenly rang.
The necklace slipped from Min-so's trembling hand and hit the floor.
The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot.
He stumbled backward.
His breathing turned uneven.
He wiped his hands frantically on his shirt, as if invisible blood covered his fingers.
— "It's… Woo-jin's necklace."
His voice came out as a whisper.
— "It's the same…"
A cold sensation crept into his chest.
Doubt.
The same doubt that had haunted him for years.
His memory was not stable anymore.
Entire periods were missing.
Shattered recollections.
Blank spaces he couldn't explain.
And his mind…
had become disturbingly good at burying things.
A terrifying thought slipped in slowly:
How did Woo-jin's necklace end up here?
Silence.
Then…
a more terrifying possibility.
Could it be…
him?
For a brief moment, he saw that monster again inside his mind.
Everything drenched in blood.
And the sound of the chainsaw getting closer and closer.
He felt nauseous.
His mind, which had mastered erasing parts of his past…
could it also erase hours of the present?
His memory had become skilled at cleaning crime scenes inside his head.
Leaving him alone in the chaos…
unable to tell:
Was he the victim?
Or the executioner hiding behind a calm, innocent face?
Outside the house…
the rain exploded even harder.
Droplets struck the windows like constant gunfire.
But inside Min-so's mind…
the sound of the chainsaw was no longer something he could escape.