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[fgumi]

"is your girlfriend single?" ☆ enha hyungs

☆ youtuber! non-idol! bf! enhypen hyung line x fem! reader ☆ summary: when your youtuber boyfriend finally shows you for the first time to his audience. ☆ genre: fluff, jealous and whipped boys... kinda dumb lol ☆ warning(s)? no! just fluff!! and attempts at humor :( ☆ reblogs and comments are appreciated :D also not proofread lol

maknae ver.

heeseung ☆

i like to think that hee would be a gaming youtuber

posts maybe like once or twice a week, has about 3 million subs

he sometimes likes to stream, just to get to know his fanbase better and to just hang out

normally he texts you to let you know abt it, but today he totally forgot

you came home from work and you saw his office door closed + heard the sound of his loud ass keyboard clicking.... my guy beats that shit UP atp

that was normal tbh

you were probably like "my little keyboard warrior ❤️" and went to go wash up in your shared bathroom and bedroom

you were going to just pop into his office, say hi and maybe give him a kiss

meanwhile... heeseung is taking a break from gaming, just talking to the chat

he definitely didn't notice you coming home... probably bc of that bigass head set that's creating a fucking valley in his skull... (btw have u seen those videos where gamers take off their headphones and they have a dent on their head 😭)

anyways you open the door, ready to say hi, but heeseung is visibly surprised, looking like a deer in headlights

you look at him, then at the back of his monitor, then back at him, then at his monitor

"should i come back another time...?"

hee's already taking off his headphones, leaning back into his gaming chair--

"no no no!" he grins, glancing at the chat, which is now blowing up

"who is that?"

"yooooo"

"HEESEUNG IS THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND?"

"gf reveal?"

"she sounds so pretty"

heeseung pats his lap, "cmere, baby, i wanna introduce you to the stream"

of course you comply <3

you take a seat on his lap, his arms slithering around your waist

it takes you a moment to take in what's on his screen: obv there's your reflections, then the chat boxes and announcement pop-ups

the way that the blue-purple light of his screen reflects onto your skin, casting a glassy gleam over your eyes-- and the way that your pretty eyes look at the monitor so curiously, lips parted ever-so-slightly-- made you look SO beautiful

heeseung himself has to angle his head in a way so that he could see your face properly.... and a soft grin unknowingly began to spread over his lips

he presses a soft kiss to the crook behind your ear, before looking back up at the stream

"hey guys," there's a clear smile in his voice, "this is my girlfriend, [name]."

you take that as your queue to introduce yourself

honestly, you're a little shy and softer-spoken now, bc you're not in front of a camera nearly as often as your boyfriend is, "hi.. i'm [name], and... uhm..." you give the webcam a clumsy, awkward (but very cute) smile, "i'm hee's girlfriend"

the chat blows up immediately

"SHE'S SO CUTE"

"i've never seen heeseung look so soft"

"[name] you're so pretty :)"

"this might actually be one of the most beautiful women i've ever seen im not joking guys"

"chat is she real... bc why is she actually GLOWING oh my lord🧎🧎🧎"

those comments make you a lil shy and bashful, and you feel your cheeks kinda warm

you just giggle reading them, unable to contain your smile

heeseung, on the other hand, is feeling prideful

"that's right, guys," he squeezes your waist, puffing his chest out, "my girlfriend is so beautiful" "i know i'm so lucky to have such a wonderful woman as my girlfriend"

he's overjoyed by all the compliments you're getting... it makes him so happy that he can show you off and that everyone gets to see that YOURE his gf

in fact, he's reading a lot of them aloud, and following it up with "i agree with you"

like he'll read "'[name] is absolutely stunning, like wow..." and heeseung nods and is like "i agree with you, xXdragontittysucker23Xx 🤓☝️"

but then a comment stops him in his tracks...

"heeseung is your girlfriend single by any chance?"

his face drops immediately

"hey... who in the chat asked if [name] is single?!"

he's actually offended, putting a dramatic hand on his chest and scoffing

"how rude!" heeseung pouts against your shoulder when even more of his viewers begin saying similar things

"[name] are you free this weekend"

"hi [name] (i'm 6'2 and drive a lamborghini and save orphans every weekend)"

"heeseung get out i'm trying to have a moment with your girlfriend"

you're actually such a cutie, becuase you're just giggling as more and more comments come trying to rizz you up

"what do you have to say for yourself?" heeseung asks you half-sulkily and half-defensive, pushing his face into your neck and pouting

your eyes glimmer with a little mischief, wanting to tease your boyfriend a little bit

"i mean... " you pretend to think

and then someone named jungkooksleftpinkytoe562 says in chat "please [name] i'll rock your world so hard just one chance"

you laugh

"jungkooksleftpinkytoe562, i'm free tomorrow at 5, you should take me out on a date" and you wink playfully and laugh again

chat blows up like

"WOAHHHH"

"AYOOO????"

but if there's anyone that's scandalized, it's heeseung lee himself

"HEY! HEY! WHAT?!!?!" he's squinting and scrolling so fast in the chat to find jungkooksleftpinkytoe562 that you can hear the scroll-wheel oh my god

"you guys better back off," heeseung says, pulling you even closer. he presses a kiss against your shoulder, then gently clutching your face to kiss your chin, "she's mine!"

heeseung's eyes narrow, "especially you, jungkooksleftpinkytoe562..." your bf gives you a quick peck on the lips, "i'll kick your ass if i see you flirting w my girlfriend again >:("

im gonna be fr... none of his viewers care

in fact they keep flirting with you

and the fact that you keep playfully flirting back adds fuel to heeseung's flames

but he'd never blame you <3

he's pouty after the stream lol (but he knows it's all in good fun) so kiss his cute lil pouty lips

i think this definitely goes viral on twitter

like #[name] or #heesgf trends for a good 48 hours

jay ☆

my guy is a cooking channel

i think jay would try to be more private abt his personal life to his viewers, just given the nature of his content

though, it's no secret that jay has a s/o to his viewers, and i think they'd know your name

but yk how at the end of cooking videos, after the chef cooks, they try the food...

i think in a few of his videos, there's clips of you and him trying his food, but while jay is usually in-frame, you're either behind the camera or just barely in the frame so that most people have really only heard your voice and seen your hands

the comments are usually tame, like

"[name]'s voice is so pretty!"

"i want someone to look at me the way jay looks at [name]"

"my parents!"

but one day

for one of his subscriber milestone specials

let's say 2million subscriber special

jay does a cooking challenge

it's "cooking a meal but BLINDFOLDED"

he starts the video explaining the parameters of the challenge and what he's doing, etc

but then he reveals that you're behind the camera to supervise him

obv bc he's in a kitchen with ovens and knives and he's blindfolded...

throughout the video, you kind of just guide your bf

"omg jay move your hand or you'll cut your fingers off!"

"turn on the stove-- no the other way!!"

at some point, jay is cutting up onions

and normally he's a pro at it, and you never question his abilities

but because he can't see and he's using the knife so quickly, you're freaked out like "babe!!!!!! that doesn't seem safe!!! 😰😰😰"

so then behind the camera, you're heard fussing about it and it's cute lol

then you take it upon yourself to help him

you go behind him, slithering your arms around him so that your hands were places on his

you guide his hands to cut the onions slowly

"babe, i got this," jay says, but tbh he's not complaining because he gets to be close to you :D

"nonono i don't want you to die!!" you say, and it seems like you're more concentrated on cutting the onions than him

this is the first time that your face is in-frame for one of his videos lol

when you're done, jay tries to kiss your head, but he can't find you so you raise yourself on your tippy toes for him

its a quick peck but you giggle and place a kiss behind his ear

when he's done cooking his little dish, it's time to garnish and decorate it with sauce

jay's plan is to use the sauce to write "happy 2 million subscribers" on the dish

but because he's blindfolded, the writing is so fucked up

it's completely unintelligable and just a glob of sauce 😭

and then he tries to draw a dick on it but it's also super fucked 😭😭😭😭

when you see this, you burst out laughing so hard

and this makes jay laugh too

anyways the video goes up, it's very cute and well-received

now.... the youtube comments are still tame

"[name]'s laugh is so cute!"

"i screamed when she popped into frame... she's gorg"

"the way that [name] looks at jay when he's blindfolded is everything"

"[name] looks so beautiful"

but uh

it gets crazy on twitter

as it always does

"jesus fucking christ if a woman like that wrapped her arms around me and kissed me i would fall to my knees and die happily"

"jay CANNOT handle allat.... but i can!!!! me next!!"

"god... when is it my turn to have a pretty woman kiss me"

"[name] i'll treat you so well PLEASE"

i think the clip of you helping jay cut the onions kinda goes viral, just because you look so attractive doing it

like the way you popped into frame as you rolled up your sleeves and the way you smirked at jay's inability to see... ZOOWEE MAMA!!!!!

and i think this eventually makes its way onto tiktok

like pretty standard videos of ppl being like "JAY'S GIRLFRIEND HELLO???" with comments like "she's so beautiful," etc

jay honestly thinks its funny

he knows that people are joking and he sometimes actually plays along with them

he loves that people are appreciating your beauty (but he loves even more that he's the only one that actually gets you)

when you first go viral, you're kinda shy about it, but jay just pulls you close, kisses your cheek, squishing them, and says "my baby is so beautiful"

youre like "jayyyyyy stoopppp"

he only chuckles and starts to pepper your face with more kisses, despite your lil whines for him to stop

but then while you two are cuddling one night, you laying on his chest with your face in his neck

a tiktok appears on his fyp

its just some teenager being like "hi does anyone know if jay's girlfriend is single?" while showing off a black BMW in the background... and then jay's directly tagged in it

he takes this as his opportunity to strike back

he stitches that tiktok, and makes his own tiktok in response

it's just a really short video where jay shows you all snuggled up against him completely silent before he just says "No, she is not single. 😐."

the caption's like "i'm taking [name] out on a date tomorrow shhh don't tell her"

everyone thinks it's really sweet tbh

jake ☆

truthfully i think jake would be into youtube commentary

something like danny gonzalez or jarvis johnson

he looks at troom troom videos and makes fun of them lowk 😭

speaking of, troom troom or troom troom - adjacent content usually has crazy ass lifehacks

so for one of his videos jake is testing out troom troom life hacks

and for one of them, he has to drill a hole in a skateboard or something and put pasta noodles in it idk i'm pulling this out of my ass but its not surprising if this is a legitimate troom troom life hack

unlike heeseung and jay, jake's viewerbase doesn't rlly know about you

again, given the nature of his content, jake never rlly found it necessary to mention his personal relationships

anyways jake is in the middle of your living room floor drilling a hole into a skateboard and putting spaghettie in it when you come home from work and see that shit

jake is in the middle of talking to the camera but the moment the door cracks open he trails off

he gives you that smile-- the one that a puppy gives when their owner catches them doing something they shouldnt aw

when you take in the sight before you, you let out a laugh, not noticing the camera rolling

you place your things down and slink toward your boyfriend

"what's going on here, jakey?" you ask him with a cocked brow, loving the way he chuckles nervously

you crouch down beside him, poking the skateboard-spaghetti abomination with your foot

"i'm testing out troom troom life hacks" he sounds defeated lol

anyways you give him a kiss on his cheek and leave him to his own devices

in the final video, your little interruption is only like 15 seconds bc jake cut it down-- but he def keeps the part where you kiss him

HOWEVER.

because jake's audience didn't know he had a girlfriend

they were all like WOAH WHO IS THAT GORGEOUS WOMAN

a few of his fans look at who he's following on instagram, and they find your account

your ig is public, but it's definitely small and personal

they find pictures of you and jake doing cute couple things, a lot of mirror selfies, matching costumes, and cute pictures that you take of jake

but...

they also find your own personal pictures

ones of you in a bikini at the beach, ones of you with the golden sun on your face, ones showing off your outfit and hair, ones of you in the morning, ones of you being a baddie

and lets not mention jake in the ig comment sections hyping you up like a teenage boy like "YOURE SO HOT [NAME] 🔥🔥🔥🔥"

jake and you see all the comments and tweets about you

so jake decides to take it upon himself to clarify everything

he posts a picture on instagram of you and him with the caption "yes, that's my girlfriend"

safe to say that it becomes his top post LMAOAAO

his ig comments are flooded with support

"you guys are so cute"

"i'm glad to see jake have someone that he loves"

etc

YOUR ig comment section on the other hand?

flooded with support

and thirst

HELP

his fans are respectful but they REALLY love to compliment you

"woahhh you look so good in this one!"

"gorgeous 😍"

"[name] will you marry me?"

but i do think a few are outright insane omg

"[name] you're my sunshine in the ran, the tylenol when i'm in pain, when it's burning hot on summer days you're exactly what i need"

i think they pull out poetic shit omg

like shit like

"the memory of you is a tapestry I had decided to wrap myself in until it suffocated me, to such extent that in the morning, people will not find my body, but a new silhouette woven within its threads"

"there is a city in my heart where you are its only population"

"if i could remake universe, i would replace you as the moon amongst the stars after your time, so i may gaze upon you every night"

jake is NEVER escaping

you appreciate the hype

but jakey?

he loves that you're being appreciate but YOU'RE HIS

WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE AND WHY DO THEY THINK THEY HAVE A CHANCE W U

"jakey they're just being nice"

"no they're trying to STEAL YOU"

like a day later he posts a picture of you on his instagram with the caption "she's mine btw"

his comments DO NOT CARE 😭😭😭

when someone comments

"jake is your gf single and can i take her out on a date"

jake straight up responds

"NO."

what a cutie

sunghoon ☆

i actually don't think sunghoon would be a YOUTUBER youtuber

instead i think he'd be a famous ice skater, but he has YOUTUBE interviews and is active on social media

definitely the type of athlete that's very personable

like sunghoon is def in touch with his fanbase and interacts with them on twt and stuff

his fanbase knows that he has a gf, but that's basically the limit

anyways sunghoon is doing one of those "WIRED answered the web's most searched questions"

you're actually in the studio with him during the interview, kinda there for support

the questions are tame like

"sunghoon park height" "sunghoon park winter olympics 2018" "where was sunghoon park born" etc

sunghoon's killing it

until one of the last questions on the board is "does sunghoon park have a girlfriend?"

he immediately lights up

"i do have a girlfriend!" he says, looking off-set at you, "her name's [name] and she's the most beautiful woman i've ever met"

you chuckle quietly at his comment, flashing him a pretty smile

sunghoon continues- "she's actually here with me today" and he points to you, making the cameraman pan over to you, who is sitting off the set

you just give the camera a thumbs up

you thought that would be the end, but sunghoon asks, "baby, do you want to do this interview with me?"

ofc you agree

he makes u sit on his lap lol even when the camera crew is bringing another chair for you

instead of answer more questions sunghoon just talks about your relationship the entire time

he's giving an entire history lecture about your relationship

you don't say much, but you listen to him intently

when this interview goes up

a lot of his fans make edits of it

sunghoon is already known as a quiet typa guy, but when he talks for like 2 minutes straight about your relationship everyones like "oh god this guy really likes his girlfriend 😭"

in fact

the official interview cuts down sunghoon's tangent about you to 2 minutes, when the original clip was actually 10 minutes

i like to believe that WIRED released an uncut version of his tangent 😭

his fans make short edit videos like "sunghoon being whipped for [name]" or "sunghoon really likes his gf"

i think his fans also make edits of YOU

even though you're honestly in a very short clip of his interview

the way you look at him and listen so intently is SO GOOD

like you were definitely giving him 'the look' as he talked abt your relationship yk?

that once-over, maybe a little lip bite, MMMMM SO GOOD

now....

ik i said that heeseung was the keyboard warrior but like... i think sunghoon is the real one

he's out here fighting BATTLES with his keyboard oml

when stan twitter sees this.... sunghoon starts to fight them

there's tweets like

"the more i listen to sunghoon talk about his gf i more i feel like i'm falling for her"

"the woman that you are, [name]..."

"when she looks at the camera i feel shy"

"omg SHE WANTS ME"

sunghoon gets petty OH MY GOD

he responds to all the tweets about you

like

"she does not want you 😐." "you have no chance with her. 😐." "too bad she's mine 😇"

it's def in a playful joking way and it's really funny, but sunghoon is out here defending your honor

i think at some point sunghoon stops responding with words and just begins responding with pictures

someone tweets "sunghoon is your gf single"

and he straight up just responds with a picture of him staring blankly at the camera

LIKE HE'S DRILLING HOLES THROUGH THE CAMERA WITH HIS EYES

an absolute cutie if i do say so myself

on valentines day he posts a picture of him holding your hand to be extra petty lol

maknae ver.

[fgumi]

KISS THE RAIN, THIS IS GOODBYE TEASER ! ── heeseung's life is utterly flipped after falling in love at first sight with a mysterious girl on a rainy day. yet, when it comes to seeing her again it seems like he's out of luck. why? because she doesn't exist in the present. ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏

general info... genre romance, angst, time travel, long fic word count 0.47k current status in the works loosely based on please show up! by kim kihyun warnings cursing, death

authors note... first attempt at writing a story like this. i'm reposting this cause i lowkey posted it in a rush yesterday and wanted to redo some things, so if you've already seen this no you haven't. . .

currently listening to... lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı. lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı. lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.

HEESEUNG WAS GOING TO KILL SOMEONE.

And that someone was going to be the local weatherman, because why the actual hell was it pouring outside on a supposedly sunny day? The rain came down harder now, large droplets slamming against the pavement. It was the kind of rain that felt too heavy for the world, as if it wanted to drown everything. Heeseung cursed under his breath.

And then, cutting through the steady rhythm of the rain, there was a laugh. It danced through the downpour.

He whipped around, and there she was—a girl standing beneath an umbrella. She didn't seem to mind the rain at all.

Who was she?

Something about her was off, yet captivating. Her eyes seemed to glitter even through the gray of the sky, and her face—unfamiliar. He definitely would've remembered a face like hers.

“Huh?” that’s all he could manage. A wave of embarrassment heats his neck.

“Need a hand?” she asks.

“Who are you?”

“Me?” she tilts her head, and Heeseung can feel his heart pound faster, “Who are you?”

Heeseung blinks at this. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Am I supposed to?” the girl giggles again, “I do know that you need an umbrella though,” she reaches out a hand, a red umbrella resting on it. Heeseung takes the umbrella in his hand, undoing its velcro strap quickly to open it up.

“Thanks,” he mutters “but really, who are you? I’ve never seen you before,”

“Y/n,” the girl answers.

“Y/n?”

“Y/n L/n,” she smiles, “That's my name,”

Four days later it rains again.

And as it does, Heeseung holds your red umbrella in his hand, his face stoic. As he watches the downpour, he can only think back to the day he had met you. His head was a mess of thoughts, thoughts of you and simply how the hell this situation was even remotely possible. It couldn't be.

He had met you. He had talked to you. He had your umbrella. He remembered your smile.

And as he stands in the same spot he had met you before, he doesn't open the umbrella. He waits. Something tells him to wait.

Thunder rumbles. His heart beats. Lightning flashes. A girl laughs.

“Oh, you’re here again,”

It's you.

But it also can't be you.

Why?

Cause Y/n L/n is a name that belongs to a dead woman.

͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ZHOUNAUTS 2024©

[fgumi]

𝟏𝟗.𝟗𝟗; chapter four

*:･ﾟ✧ synopsis: seoin finally meets jungwon, a face so aching familiar but foreign all the same. they gather around to expose hybe and end this senseless war, but not everything is as they planned.

*:･ﾟ✧ pairing(s): taesan x original female character *:･ﾟ✧ genre: sci-fi, coming of age, romance *:･ﾟ✧ a/n: i've been dying in bed with a raging migrane and i have an event i have to go tomorrow. *:･ﾟ✧ word count: 7.0k *:･ﾟ✧ 19.99 mlist

Seoin stood at the edge of the abandoned park, her breath misting in the cold night air. The faint glow of distant city lights barely reached the shadows where she and the boys were waiting. They had escaped HYBE’s grasp, but now they were taking an even greater risk—meeting Enhypen, specifically Jungwon. Seoin’s heart pounded as she scanned the empty space, the weight of what they were about to do settling heavily on her shoulders.

Jungwon had agreed to the meeting after their brief, encrypted exchange, but Seoin couldn’t shake the nerves. This Jungwon wasn’t the brother she grew up with; he was a soldier, hardened by war and HYBE’s control. The thought of seeing him again, knowing he wasn’t really hers, filled her with both anticipation and dread.

Taesan stood beside her, his eyes scanning their surroundings with practiced caution. He had been quiet since their escape, his usual confidence tinged with a wariness that Seoin had come to recognize as protectiveness. He glanced at her, noting her unease. “He’ll come,” Taesan said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. “Jungwon’s careful, but he wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t think this was worth the risk.”

Seoin nodded, gripping the edge of her coat tightly. “I know. It’s just… it’s strange, isn’t it? Seeing someone you know so well, but they’re not really the same.”

Taesan looked at her thoughtfully, his expression softening. “It is. And if this goes sideways, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Before Seoin could respond, a faint rustling caught their attention. She turned, her heart leaping into her throat as she saw figures emerging from the shadows. Enhypen approached cautiously, their steps measured and deliberate. Jungwon was at the front, his posture tense but alert, followed closely by Sunoo and Jake, who were scanning the area with a mix of curiosity and caution.

Seoin’s breath hitched as she saw Jungwon’s face, so familiar yet distant. His eyes were sharper, his expression harder than the Jungwon she remembered. He looked like her brother, but the war had etched its mark on him, turning the playful boy she knew into a wary soldier.

Jungwon’s gaze locked onto hers, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of them moved, the distance between them feeling far greater than the physical space. Seoin took a tentative step forward, her voice catching in her throat. “Jungwon…”

Jungwon’s eyes flickered, a mix of recognition and guarded suspicion flashing across his face. He looked past her, taking in the rest of the group, each of them poised and ready, their expressions reflecting the gravity of the meeting. He finally spoke, his voice low and cautious. “Zeoin… it’s been a while.”

As the nickname left his lips, Seoin felt a sudden tug in the back of her mind, a brief but vivid flicker of Zeoin’s consciousness. She glimpsed a memory from years ago, hazy and warm, where Jungwon and Zeoin were only six years old.

They were sitting on the living room floor, toys scattered around them. Jungwon, grinning mischievously, had just finished teasing his sister about something trivial—probably a game they were playing. He stretched out the ‘s’ in her name, making it sound exaggerated and playful.

“Zsssseoin!” he had called, his childish lisp turning Seoin into Zeoin, a silly twist that stuck because of his overemphasized “s” sounds. Zeoin had laughed, not minding the teasing; it was the kind of lighthearted moment that felt worlds away from where they stood now.

Seoin blinked, the memory fading as quickly as it came, leaving her with a bittersweet pang. That nickname, so innocently created, now carried the weight of years they hadn’t shared. It felt foreign yet familiar, a reminder of what was lost and what still lingered between them. She pushed the moment aside, knowing this wasn’t the time to delve into those past connections.

Sunghoon, standing just behind Jungwon, glanced between them, his brows furrowed in confusion. “So, what’s this about? HYBE’s got everyone on high alert. You reaching out like this… it’s risky.”

Taesan stepped forward, his tone firm. “We wouldn’t have reached out if it wasn’t important. HYBE’s hiding something big—something that could change everything. We have proof of their experiments, the failed attempts to create super-soldiers with multiple powers, and how they’ve been erasing people from existence.”

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed, skepticism mingling with the faintest hint of concern. “You have proof? HYBE’s been controlling the narrative for years. How do you expect to expose them without getting yourselves killed?”

Jaehyun stepped in, holding up a small drive. “We have data from their latest facility. Experiment logs, enhancement failures, everything they’ve been hiding. If we can get this to the right people, we can blow their operations wide open.”

Jungwon’s gaze lingered on the drive, his mind racing through the possibilities. He knew how deeply HYBE’s influence ran, but this could be the key to unraveling it all. But instead of the hope the others might have expected, Jungwon scoffed lightly, a bitter edge to his expression.

“They’re just numbers,” Jungwon said, his tone sharp and jaded. “Data like that? It’s meaningless to most people. All they see are spreadsheets and technical jargon. They won’t look twice at it unless it comes with something more—pretty pictures, a sob story. HYBE’s already trained the public to turn a blind eye to anything that doesn’t fit their narrative.”

Seoin frowned, taken aback by his cynicism. “But it’s proof—”

Jungwon cut her off, shaking his head. “Proof isn’t enough. HYBE has a stranglehold on information, and the public only cares about what’s right in front of them. Numbers and reports? They won’t stir up outrage. We need something that people can’t ignore, something that hits them right in the gut.”

Taesan nodded, understanding Jungwon’s point. “So, we need to show them HYBE’s brutality. Not just tell them.”

“Exactly,” Jungwon replied, his voice firm. “We need to make it impossible for HYBE to bury this. We need faces, voices—something undeniable. And until we have that, all the data in the world won’t matter.”

Seoin absorbed his words, feeling the urgency behind them. They needed more than just evidence; they needed a way to turn the tide of public perception.

“We can’t do this alone. HYBE’s reach is too deep, but with Enhypen’s help, we can get the evidence we need. We need you, Jungwon.” The vulnerability in her voice cut through the tension, and for a brief moment, Jungwon’s guarded expression softened. He looked at Seoin—really looked at her—and saw the determination that mirrored his own. Whatever doubts he had, whatever distance had grown between them, he couldn’t ignore the plea in her eyes.

“Alright,” Jungwon said finally, his voice steady. “I’m in. But we do this smart. We expose HYBE on our terms, not theirs.”

Seoin exhaled, relief flooding her.

“So, we need footage,” Jaehyun said, his mind already racing through possibilities. “Something that shows the experiments, the failures… everything they’ve been trying to hide. If we can get into one of their labs or storage facilities, there’s bound to be surveillance.”

Sunoo, who had been listening intently, stepped forward. “HYBE’s security is tight, but there’s always a weak point. If we can identify a smaller facility, one that’s less guarded, we might be able to get in undetected. We’ll need to plan carefully, though. They have redundancies and backups everywhere.”

Taesan turned to Seoin, his expression thoughtful. “Your powers… could they help us find a way in? Maybe give us a glimpse of what’s inside?”

Seoin hesitated, still grappling with the unpredictability of her abilities. Zeoin’s memories had given her some insight, but the power to reality hop and glimpse alternate versions of herself wasn’t something she had fully mastered. Still, if it could give them an edge, she was willing to try.

“I can’t promise I’ll see exactly what we need, but I can try,” Seoin said, determination flickering in her eyes. “If I can tap into the right vision, we might get an idea of the layout or even find evidence we’re looking for.”

Jungwon watched her closely, measuring her resolve. “It’s risky, but it’s our best shot. We need to get in, capture what we can, and get out before HYBE knows we’re there. If they catch wind of this, they’ll double down on security, and it’ll be impossible to get another chance.”

Seoin nodded, feeling the pressure of what they were about to undertake. She closed her eyes, trying to connect with that elusive part of herself that Zeoin had described. The memories, the skills, the moments from other realities—they were all fragments, pieces she had yet to fully control. But as she focused, she felt a faint whisper of something—a flicker of an alternate version of herself, one who had seen these halls before.

The vision was brief but clear: stark white corridors, sterile rooms lined with monitors, and rows of test subjects undergoing procedures. She saw guards, scientists, and—most damningly—a hidden camera feed displaying real-time footage of failed enhancements, soldiers breaking down, and the devastating effects of HYBE’s experiments.

Seoin opened her eyes, her heart racing. “There’s a smaller lab, more isolated. It’s not as heavily guarded, but it’s where they run tests on enhancements before moving to the main facilities. I saw cameras—they record everything.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed, a plan forming in his mind. “That’s our target, then. We get in, take what we need, and show the world exactly what HYBE’s been doing.”

Leehan looked around at the group, his expression serious but hopeful. “It’s a risk, but if we can pull this off… it’s worth it.”

Seoin glanced at each of them, feeling the unity in their resolve. They were risking everything, but together, they had a chance to bring down HYBE and reveal the truth. There was no turning back now. With Enhypen’s help, they would expose HYBE’s darkest secrets and finally make them answer for their actions.

-0-

The group dispersed to finalize their preparations, tension and determination hanging in the air. Seoin lingered for a moment, watching as Jungwon, Jaehyun, and Taesan discussed logistics. She knew that this was only the beginning of a dangerous path, but for the first time since arriving in this reality, she felt like they had the upper hand.

The night deepened as the group gathered around a makeshift map spread across the floor of their hideout. Jaehyun had sketched out the layout of the lab based on Seoin’s vision, marking key entry points, guard rotations, and the location of the surveillance room that held the evidence they needed. The tension was palpable, each of them acutely aware of what was at stake.

Sungho pointed to a narrow corridor near the back entrance. “This is where security is lightest. We can get in through here without raising too many alarms. But once we’re inside, we’ll need to move fast.”

Taesan nodded, his focus sharp. “We split into two teams: one to handle the surveillance and download the footage, the other to monitor the perimeter and handle any guards. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

But before they could execute any plan, they had to learn to function as a single unit. Two teams—Enhypen and the boys—each with their strengths and weaknesses, were coming together for the first time. They weren’t just working against HYBE; they were working against the unfamiliarity of each other’s powers and approaches.

-0-

Over the next few days, the groups trained relentlessly, pushing their limits as they learned to synchronize their abilities. There were tense moments, frustrations, and occasional missteps, but each day brought them closer to understanding one another.

To foster unity, Jungwon organized a series of combined drills that forced the two groups to rely on each other’s abilities. The exercises began with simple tasks but soon escalated into high-pressure simulations that required perfect coordination. It was during these drills that Jungwon truly began to shine.

As the teams faced a complex scenario—a timed mission that involved retrieving a target while avoiding simulated enemy fire—Jungwon activated his tactical telepathy, connecting the minds of everyone in the group.

“Stay sharp and keep moving,” Jungwon’s voice echoed not from his mouth but directly into their minds, clear and calm. Seoin blinked, startled at the sudden intrusion, but quickly adjusted as the rush of shared awareness made their positions and intentions crystal clear.

With Jungwon’s power, the team operated with an almost supernatural level of coordination. Each member could sense the others’ movements, thoughts, and intentions in real time. When Leehan slowed time, the exact moment Ni-ki needed to strike was felt by everyone, allowing him to move flawlessly within the slowed environment.

Sunghoon’s ice barricades and Jay’s fire manipulation worked together beautifully; they combined effortlessly, creating steam that obscured the battlefield, timed perfectly with Sunoo’s illusions that masked the team’s real positions.

“On your left!” Riwoo’s thought cut through, warning Woonhak, who instinctively ducked as a simulated enemy rounded the corner. Without needing to shout or signal, the team adjusted in perfect sync, moving as if they were one mind controlling many bodies.

Taesan’s foresight, usually a quiet guide, became a shared vision, amplifying their tactical advantages. His glimpses into the near future were now everyone’s, each member anticipating threats seconds before they materialized.

Even Woonhak, usually hesitant to use his persuasion powers, felt a surge of confidence through the telepathic link. With everyone’s thoughts intertwined, the burden of his abilities felt lighter, and he executed commands that subtly shifted the simulated enemies’ actions, further tipping the scales in their favor.

Seoin glanced at Jungwon, a newfound respect mingling with an uncomfortable pang in her chest. It was clear just how powerful his abilities were. He wasn’t just a leader; he was the linchpin that held their fragile alliance together, turning a collection of powerful individuals into a single, unstoppable force. A force she desperately wanted to be part of but constantly felt like she was lagging behind.

Watching Jungwon’s effortless command over the team left her feeling like a bystander—useful, but not essential. Seoin couldn’t help but wonder if Zeoin, the version of herself who had once been a formidable figure in this reality, would have thrived in this moment without hesitation or doubt.

Her chest tightened with frustration. She was doing her best, but every time Jungwon activated his power, she was reminded of how far she still had to go. Part of her admired his strength, but another part—one she rarely acknowledged—felt the sharp sting of envy. Why couldn’t she command that kind of respect? Why did she always feel like she was just catching up?

Seoin pushed the thoughts aside, forcing a smile as the team regrouped. She couldn’t afford to let her insecurities slow her down. Not now. She would prove herself, no matter what it took.

-0-

As the sun set on another day of training, the group was deep in a series of drills designed to push them physically and mentally. Seoin found herself paired with Taesan more often than not, the intensity of their sessions fueled by an unspoken connection that neither of them fully understood yet.

Taesan’s reserved nature often put a wall between him and others, but with Seoin, that barrier seemed to soften. They moved in sync during combat exercises, their actions instinctively complementing each other’s. In one sparring session, Seoin lunged forward, only for Taesan to catch her wrist gently, guiding her movement with a precision that made the action feel more like a dance than a fight.

“You’re leaving your right side open,” Taesan noted, his voice calm but with an underlying warmth. He adjusted her stance, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Seoin’s heart skipped, and for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t just thinking about the mission.

“Thanks,” Seoin murmured, meeting his eyes. Training with Taesan felt natural, effortless in a way that surprised her, and the subtle brushes of contact during their sessions only deepened the quiet tension simmering between them.

After an especially grueling training day, Seoin found herself sitting beside Taesan, both of them watching the others as they continued to spar. She glanced sideways at him, feeling an unusual sense of calm in his presence.

“You push hard,” Seoin said softly, her gaze drifting to Taesan’s focused expression. “Not just on me—on everyone.”

Taesan smirked, his eyes never leaving the training session in front of them. “We don’t get stronger by taking it easy. And you can handle it.”

Seoin smiled at his confidence in her. “I appreciate it… the pushing, I mean. It keeps me going.”

Taesan glanced at her then, his expression softening. “We’ve got to keep each other going. Especially now.”

Their eyes met, the moment charged with a quiet intimacy that made Seoin’s chest tighten. She wasn’t sure when the lines between training partners and something more had started to blur, but with Taesan, she didn’t mind the uncertainty.

As Seoin and Taesan wrapped up their session, Jungwon watched from a distance, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Seoin was more at ease with the group, but it was her interactions with Taesan that caught his attention the most. He approached her later, leaning casually against the wall beside her.

“You’ve changed,” Jungwon remarked, his voice light but laced with genuine observation. “I remember when you wouldn’t let anyone get too close. Now look at you.”

Seoin blinked in surprise, turning to meet his gaze. “What do you mean?”

Jungwon’s smile widened. “You’re different now. Friendlier. You’re actually letting yourself connect with people—something you never really did before.”

Seoin felt a pang of recognition. He wasn’t wrong. Back in her original reality, she had always been a bit of a loner, unsure of herself, always in her brother’s shadow. But here… things were different. She had no choice but to adapt, to rely on others. And in the process, she had opened herself up in ways she hadn’t expected.

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed you and Taesan,” he teased.

Seoin’s cheeks warmed, though she quickly brushed off his implication. “It’s… it’s just training, you know? We’re getting better at working together.”

Jungwon chuckled, clearly amused by her obliviousness. “Right. Just training. All those lingering looks, the extra care he takes when it’s you—nothing special at all.”

Seoin sighed, waving her hand dismissively. “We’ve got more important things to focus on, like the mission. Besides, Taesan’s like that with everyone, isn’t he?”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, his smile growing. “Sure, if everyone else meant you specifically.”

Seoin rolled her eyes, half-exasperated. “I think you’re seeing things. Taesan’s just being a good teammate.”

Jungwon nodded, his eyes lingering on her thoughtfully. “It suits you. Seeing you like this, with people you trust… It makes me happy.” There was a gentle warmth in his tone, an unexpected softness that Seoin hadn’t felt in a long time.

For a fleeting moment, Seoin’s heart ached with familiarity. Standing there with Jungwon, she could almost pretend she had her own brother back—that she wasn’t lost in this alternate reality but back home, where things were simpler and where she didn’t have to shoulder so much. It wasn’t real, she reminded herself. This wasn’t her Jungwon, and they weren’t twins here. But just for a second, she let herself feel the comfort of having that sibling bond again.

Seoin glanced down, feeling a strange mix of emotions. “I still feel like I don’t belong sometimes. Like I’m not supposed to be here.”

“You’re supposed to be here,” Jungwon said, his voice firm but kind. “Maybe not the way you expected, but you’ve made your place here. And now, these people—they need you just as much as you need them.”

Seoin smiled softly, a bit embarrassed by his directness. “Thanks… I needed to hear that.”

Jungwon chuckled. “Don’t get too sentimental on me. We’ve still got a mission to pull off.”

Seoin laughed, feeling the tension in her chest ease. For that brief moment, she had allowed herself to feel like she wasn’t alone, like she had her twin back—even if it was just an illusion.

-0-

As the sun set on the final day of training, Seoin found herself standing on the sidelines, watching the boys as they finished their last drills. The exhaustion from training was catching up to her, but a small smile tugged at her lips as she watched Leehan and Riwoo playfully shove each other after a particularly successful exercise.

She hadn’t realized how much she had grown attached to them until now. They were her teammates, and in many ways, her only lifeline in this unfamiliar world. For the first time in what felt like ages, Seoin wasn’t just surviving.

The night had fallen completely by the time the group gathered for their final preparations. They moved with a calm, determined energy, each of them slipping into their roles with a practiced ease that spoke of their grueling days of training together. The bonds they’d formed were palpable, a silent understanding that they were all in this together.

Jungwon glanced at his watch, the ticking seconds echoing the urgency that hummed between them. “We move in thirty. Everyone knows the plan. Stick to your roles, and remember—this isn’t just about getting in. We need that footage. It’s the only thing that’ll make people see the truth.”

Woonhak, who had been quiet throughout the discussion, finally spoke up. “And if we’re caught?”

Jungwon’s expression hardened, his resolve unshaken. “We won’t be. But if anything goes wrong, we abort and regroup.”

Taesan nodded, his foresight already guiding his instincts. “I’ll keep us ahead of any surprises. Just stay focused and trust the calls.”

They moved as one, slipping out of the hideout and making their way through the deserted streets. The city was quiet, almost peaceful under the moon’s glow, but the tension in the air was unmistakable. This was the calm before the storm, and they were about to stir up a tempest.

As they approached the lab’s perimeter, Taesan signaled for them to halt. He closed his eyes briefly, his foresight scanning the immediate future for any threats. After a moment, he opened them, nodding sharply. “Guard shift in twenty seconds. We move after that.”

The group waited in silence, breaths held as they watched the guards swap positions, oblivious to the intruders lying in wait. Taesan’s timing was perfect; as soon as the guards turned the corner, he motioned for the group to proceed.

They slipped through the back entrance, navigating the narrow corridors with a quiet efficiency. Taesan guided them through each turn, his foresight giving him just enough of an edge to avoid detection. It was like threading a needle—every movement precise, every decision crucial.

They reached the surveillance room without incident, and Jaehyun quickly set to work on the computers, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he bypassed security protocols. Seoin and Jungwon stood guard by the door, their senses on high alert for any sign of trouble.

“Downloading now,” Jaehyun whispered, his eyes locked on the screen. The footage played out in grainy detail—failed experiments, distressed test subjects, and HYBE’s cruel attempts to create super-soldiers at any cost. It was every bit as damning as they’d hoped.

Just as the download completed, the sound of footsteps echoed faintly from down the hall. Taesan’s eyes flickered with urgency, his foresight flashing brief glimpses of guards sweeping the area. “We need to move. Now.”

They pulled the drive free, and the group quickly made their way back through the corridors, each turn feeling tighter, more precarious than the last. Taesan’s foresight kept them one step ahead, guiding them away from potential encounters, but the tension was mounting with every second.

As they neared the exit, an alarm blared—a motion sensor they hadn’t anticipated. The corridors lit up with flashing red lights, and the sound of guards mobilizing filled the air. They sprinted, adrenaline pushing them forward as they barreled toward their escape.

Taesan, running slightly ahead, glanced back and saw Woonhak. In a split second, Taesan’s foresight revealed a moment that made his blood run cold: Woonhak, with every opportunity to use his powers of persuasion to command the guards away, hesitated. Taesan saw Woonhak’s internal struggle, his deep-seated fear of taking away someone’s free will. It was that hesitation that sealed Woonhak’s fate in the vision—captured and powerless.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Taesan made his choice. He darted back, positioning himself exactly where Woonhak would have been if he’d been caught by his own indecision.

“Go, keep moving!” Taesan yelled, shoving Woonhak ahead as the guards closed in. Before anyone could react, Taesan was grabbed, his foresight playing out the capture he’d foreseen—but this time, he was in Woonhak’s place.

Seoin’s eyes widened in horror. “Taesan!”

The rest of the group turned back, ready to fight, but Taesan, struggling against the guards, shouted with a fierce intensity. “No! Get out of here!”

Jungwon grabbed Seoin, dragging her toward the exit as she struggled to reach Taesan. “We’ll come back for him! Right now, we have to go!”

Seoin’s heart pounded, tears brimming in her eyes as she made one last desperate glance toward Taesan. He caught her gaze, his usual calm replaced with a fierce resolve. There was a brief but powerful moment between them—one filled with all the unspoken words and promises they never got to share.

“I’ll be fine,” Taesan said, his voice softer, just for her. “Promise me you’ll finish this.”

Seoin nodded, choking back a sob. “I’ll come back for you. I swear it.”

Taesan’s smirk broke through, confident even in the face of capture. “I know you will.” His eyes lingered on her, filled with a trust that cut through the chaos, just before the guards pulled him away.

Seoin turned, sprinting after the rest of the team, her mind reeling with a mix of fear and guilt. They burst through the exit, slipping back into the shadows of the night. The mission was technically a success—they had the data, the proof they needed—but Taesan’s absence felt like a gaping wound.

Once outside, they regrouped in the safety of a nearby alley, breaths heavy, hearts pounding, and nerves frayed. Seoin leaned against the wall, barely holding herself upright as the reality of what just happened hit her all at once. The weight of Taesan’s sacrifice felt unbearable, crushing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“He… they… we left him,” Seoin choked out, her voice breaking as she pressed her hands to her face. Tears welled up, threatening to spill over, her usually steady composure shattered. “We left him behind. They’re going to kill him—Taesan… he’s… oh god, what did we do?”

Her words were ragged and desperate, almost incoherent as she struggled to process the chaos that had unfolded. She was shaking, and each breath felt like it was being ripped from her lungs. “We can’t just leave him there! You know what they’ll do to him—HYBE doesn’t care about us. They’ll—”

Jungwon stepped forward, grabbing Seoin by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. His grip was firm, but his eyes held a mix of anger, pain, and a desperate need to keep them all grounded. “Seoin, stop. We will get him back, but we can’t go charging in there right now. We’d lose everything, including him.”

Seoin shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Jungwon, they’ll hurt him. They’ll kill him, and it’ll be our fault because we left him—because I couldn’t… I couldn’t…” Her voice broke, the overwhelming guilt consuming her. “Zeoin would have never messed this up. She wouldn’t have left him.”

The admission tumbled out before Seoin could stop herself, the words a painful mix of bitterness and self-blame. Jungwon’s eyes flickered with a brief confusion as he processed what she had just said, but he filed it away for later. This wasn’t the time to pry into what Seoin meant—right now, she needed to hold herself together.

Jungwon softened his tone, releasing her shoulders slightly but keeping her steady. “You did everything you could. Taesan made his choice because he trusts us to finish this. We’re going to save him, but we can’t fall apart now.”

Seoin’s knees buckled slightly, and she slumped against the wall, her breath hitching in sobs. She clung to Jungwon’s words, but the fear gnawed at her, refusing to let go. “He’s going to die because of us… because of me.”

Jungwon pulled her into a tight embrace, his own voice strained as he tried to keep his composure. “He’s not going to die. He’s strong, and he knows we’re coming for him. But we have to be smart about this. If we go back now, we lose everything—Taesan, the footage, everything.”

As Jungwon’s words washed over her, Seoin looked up, her tear-filled eyes scanning the faces of the others. The boys looked lost, eyes wide and filled with a mix of anger, fear, and helplessness. They had never faced something like this before—a mission gone wrong, the loss of one of their own. Riwoo was clenched-fisted, his usual bright energy replaced with a steely frustration. Woonhak’s gaze was distant, his shoulders hunched as if trying to make himself smaller, guilt flickering in his eyes. Leehan’s stoic façade was barely holding; his expression was tight, and his hands trembled slightly as he stared at the ground.

Enhypen stood slightly apart, their posture more composed, but Seoin could see the strain in their eyes. They were battle-hardened, used to the horrors of war and loss, but this wasn’t just another casualty—it was one of them. Jay clenched his jaw, his eyes cold and focused, while Sunoo stared at the ground, lips pressed into a thin line. Even Jungwon, who held Seoin tightly, had a shadow of pain in his eyes, though his expression remained steeled and determined.

Jungwon pulled back slightly, holding Seoin by the arms and looking her directly in the eyes. “We’re going to save him,” he promised, his voice unwavering. “But right now, Taesan needs us to finish what we started. We’ll regroup, we’ll plan, and we will get him back. You just have to hold on a little longer.”

Seoin wiped her eyes, her resolve slowly rebuilding in the wake of Jungwon’s words and the sight of everyone’s faces. She took a deep breath, swallowing back the fear and anger, letting it fuel her determination instead. Taesan’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain; she would make sure of that.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice still shaky but steadier than before. “We’ll do this. But we don’t leave him behind. We don’t stop until he’s safe.”

Jungwon nodded, a fierce determination mirrored in his eyes. “We won’t. We finish this for Taesan, and then we bring him home.”

The team huddled together, the weight of their loss fueling their resolve. They had the evidence to expose HYBE, but they were far from done. With their mission renewed and their hearts set on rescuing Taesan, they would keep fighting—no matter the cost.

-0-

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the training grounds as the team wrapped up another grueling session. With each passing day, their synergy grew, and so did the pressure. Everyone felt the weight of what was to come—their upcoming mission would be their most dangerous yet.

As they settled into Jaehyun and Sungho’s makeshift hideout—a run-down video game center hidden in the outskirts of the city—the group gathered around an old, flickering monitor displaying the footage they had risked everything to obtain. The room was dimly lit, the faint hum of broken arcade machines echoing in the background, a stark reminder of the world they were fighting to change.

Jaehyun leaned against the table, his eyes scanning the damning evidence they’d secured. The footage revealed HYBE’s relentless pursuit of creating super-soldiers, the brutal experiments, and the consequences of their twisted enhancements. It was more than enough to turn public opinion against HYBE, but they needed to be strategic about how they released it.

“We can’t just drop this and hope it makes a difference,” Jaehyun said, his voice tight with frustration. “HYBE controls the media. If we’re not careful, they’ll bury this faster than we can blink.”

Sungho nodded, his arms crossed as he considered their options. “We need to make this unignorable. We have to hit them where it hurts—right in the public’s eye.”

Jungwon paced in front of the screen, his mind racing through potential strategies. His tactical telepathy was still active, connecting the group’s thoughts and making their brainstorming session fluid and interconnected, despite the tension. “We need a public platform, something big enough that HYBE can’t suppress it without raising suspicion.”

Seoin, still reeling from Taesan’s capture, watched quietly as the others strategized. Every word felt like a reminder of Taesan’s absence, of the promise she had made to bring him back. But she knew that rescuing him hinged on their success here—they couldn’t afford to misstep.

Woonhak hesitated before speaking up, his voice softer than usual. “What about a live broadcast? Something no one can shut down immediately. We could hijack a signal… make it impossible for them to stop it.”

Sunoo perked up at the idea, his eyes lighting with a mischievous glint. “We’d need to get to one of the main broadcasting towers. They’re heavily guarded, but if we could infiltrate one, we could get this out there before HYBE has a chance to react.”

Jaehyun looked at the map sprawled out on the table, pinpointing the closest and most vulnerable tower. “This one’s our best bet. It’s smaller, less security because they think it’s insignificant. But if we can get in and upload the footage, it’ll link to every major broadcast in the city.”

Jungwon stared at the map, his expression tightening as the reality of their plan sank in. He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. “They’re going to be on high alert. After what happened with Taesan, HYBE’s probably doubling down on security everywhere. This isn’t going to be a simple in-and-out job.”

The group fell silent, the weight of Jungwon’s words hanging in the air. They all knew the risks—they’d seen what HYBE was capable of. Getting caught wasn’t just a setback; it could mean the end of everything they’d worked for, and it could put Taesan in even more danger.

“But it’s our best shot,” Jungwon continued, his voice edged with frustration as he weighed the odds. “We’ll need to split into teams—one to handle security, one to operate the broadcast, and one to keep watch and hold off any reinforcements. We move fast and get out even faster. But…” He trailed off, eyes flicking across the group. “We can’t afford any mistakes. If anything feels off, we pull back. We can’t risk getting caught, not with Taesan still in there.”

Seoin nodded, understanding the hesitation that lingered in Jungwon’s tone. This was a risk, but it was one they had to take. “We won’t fail,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. “We’ll make it work.”

Jungwon looked at her, a mix of determination and lingering doubt in his eyes. “We have to.”

As the group broke off into smaller discussions, Seoin found herself pulled into her thoughts. She couldn’t stop thinking about Taesan—the way he had looked at her, smirking even in the face of capture, as if he knew she would find a way to make this right. But her fear of failing him gnawed at her, a constant undercurrent to every decision she made.

She glanced at the others, watching how each of them handled the pressure differently. Jungwon was focused, directing their efforts with a steady hand; Sungho and Jaehyun were relentless, dissecting every detail of the plan; Woonhak was quieter, haunted by the choices he’d made. And yet, despite the weight on all their shoulders, they were still moving forward, still fighting.

Seoin clenched her fists, determination hardening in her chest. She wouldn’t let Taesan’s sacrifice be in vain. She would push herself harder, be sharper, and make sure that every step they took from here on out was flawless.

Woonhak noticed her standing apart and approached, his expression gentler than usual. “You okay?”

Seoin nodded, though the tightness in her throat betrayed her. “I just… I hate that he’s not here. I can’t shake this feeling that we should be doing more.”

Jungwon placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’re doing everything we can. And when the time is right, we’ll get him back. But right now, he’s counting on us to make this work.”

Seoin looked at Jungwon, feeling the weight of his words sink in. “I won’t let him down.”

Jungwon smiled faintly, but there was a trace of something more serious in his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. “Zeoin… earlier, you said something that’s been bothering me. You mentioned ‘Zeoin’ and how she wouldn’t have messed up. You were talking about yourself in the third person.”

Seoin stiffened, realizing too late that her earlier slip hadn’t gone unnoticed. She had been so caught up in her emotions that she hadn’t thought about how strange it must have sounded. Jungwon’s eyes were sharp, searching her expression for answers, but also holding a gentleness that told her he wasn’t judging—he just wanted to understand.

Jungwon continued, his tone cautious. “Why did you say it like that? Are you… are you okay? I know losing Taesan was a lot, it’s hard, but if there’s something else going on, you can tell me.”

Seoin opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She wanted to tell him everything—to explain that the Zeoin he knew wasn’t her, that she was an outsider in this world just trying to piece things together. But it was too much, too soon. She couldn’t risk the truth, not now when everything was so fragile.

“I…” Seoin hesitated, grasping for something that wouldn’t betray her secret. “I guess it’s just my way of coping, you know? Sometimes it feels like I’m not even myself anymore. Like I’m just watching everything happen, and I’m… disconnected.”

Jungwon’s brow furrowed, his concern deepening, but he nodded slowly, accepting her answer even if it didn’t fully satisfy his curiosity. “That makes sense, I guess. Just… don’t lose sight of who you are. We need you here, Seoin. Not some distant version of you.”

Seoin forced a smile, though her chest tightened with guilt. “Yeah… I’ll try.”

Jungwon squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before stepping back, letting her have a moment to collect herself. But his mind lingered on her words, filing them away for another time. Something about Seoin’s explanation didn’t sit right with him, but he chose to trust her, at least for now.

As Seoin watched him walk away, she made a silent promise to herself: she would tell him the truth—one day, when the time was right. For now, she would carry her secret, knowing that every action she took wasn’t just for herself but for Zeoin, for Taesan, and for the future they all deserved.

With their roles assigned, the group moved with renewed purpose. Each step forward felt like a small victory against the looming threat of HYBE. They were scared, they were hurt, but they were far from defeated.

As they prepared to infiltrate the broadcasting tower, Seoin glanced at the others, feeling a surge of pride and responsibility. They weren’t just fighting for themselves anymore—they were fighting for Taesan, for every person who had been manipulated and harmed by HYBE’s ambitions.

The mission ahead was dangerous, but they were ready. They had to be. This was their chance to strike back, to expose the truth, and to bring Taesan home.

And nothing—not even HYBE—was going to stop them.

turn the page? back or forward

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idols. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

taglist: @en-dream

[fgumi]

FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS

୨୧ -› how enhypen loves you + love languages :)

pair -› enhypen x fem! reader | wc -› 600 | no warnings! | library

lee heeseung loves you before he even realizes it himself. he craves for you when he pushes back your hair and wipes away a smudge of your lipstick before his heart grows incredibly tight. he loves you like it’s second nature, because it’s easy to care for you, but even easier to simply exist around you. he loves you because you bring him comfort, like a warm spring day accompanied by a sprinkle of rain and descending petals. if eternity was a choice, he’d spend the rest of it with you ~ quality time

park jay loves you with quiet ardor, wanting to keep you all to himself. his hands trickle by your waist, his touch as a sign of your proximity, and you feel his breath ghost over your skin when he gets close. jay loves to love you, and he’s happy when you’re happy. he grins at you like you hang up the stars in the night sky, his eyes twinkling with affection whenever you’re around. jay promises that he’d do whatever you want, swearing to run marathons or cross oceans to be with you for a lifetime. ~ acts of service.

sim jake falls hard and fast, tumbling to kiss the earth you stand on (metaphorically!). he loves you like he loves the air and smiles when he sees you anywhere, finding you perfect in every way. people don’t lie when they say jake would be the best boyfriend, because he seeks you out in every crowd like an unspoken lifeline. his gaze always makes sure you're safe and sound; he clings to your touch like it’s law and runs his thumb over your knuckles to soothe your unease, anywhere, anytime. ~ physical touch.

park sunghoon loves you through his reassurance and promises. his pinky connects to yours for the first time when he tells you something unimportant, and yet something in you knew that he was being genuine. he laughs around you like there's no weight on his chest, effortlessly basking in your shared smiles and shared memories. he promises to cherish, appreciate, and love you, and something about the raw devotion of sunghoon's love makes you believe that he will forever be honest with what he tells you--always. ~ words of affirmation

kim sunoo gives himself to you in full, with his heart on his sleeve and his emotions all on display. there's never a dull moment on your mind when you're reminded of all the sheer adoration he holds in his sparkling gaze when he glances over at you. even when your fingers are intertwined and he feels your heartbeat thrum from underneath him, he takes it as a symbol that your love is real, and palpable, and absolute. and knows that he would spend the rest of his time with you, in the quiet of your love. ~ quality time

yang jungwon notices all the little things about you, his lips pursed every time he becomes an observer in your life. he looks out for you in more ways than one--catching you when you stumbling, wiping the condensation off your cup, or covering hard corners in case you don't notice. he cares in his own way, always attentive to how you feel and making sure you're okay; you're safe in jungwon's arms, with a security blanket of love around your shoulders whenever you're with you. and jungwon will always look out for you, no matter what. ~ acts of service

nishimura riki pours his feelings into everything he gives to you. his joy comes from your face when it lights up, and your appreciation for his little gifts is a treasure he holds close to his heart. he's not the best with words, getting flustered when you pour your feelings out for him or when it comes to crafting romantic paragraphs in response, but he’s attentive to everything you gaze settles on. he saves your smiles and pockets your happy moments with him as a reminder that you're content in his embrace, and he craves for you in every room you're not in ~ gift giving

—

love languages don’t exactly pair w the passage it’s more of what love language they have

[fgumi]

ꕥ maybe this time; — taesan one shot, wc: 1.7k, genre: angst, fluff

the schoolyard is filled with the usual noise of after-class chatter, but taesan hears none of it. his focus is solely on her—the girl with the easy smile and the kind eyes that always seem to be looking somewhere else. she’s sitting on the low stone wall, surrounded by friends, her laughter ringing out like a melody he can’t quite reach. he stands a few feet away, hidden in the crowd, blending in as he always does. it’s safer that way, quieter, less painful. but today, there’s a dull ache in his chest, sharper than usual, reminding him of all the times he’s let the moment pass.

they’ve been in the same class for years, sharing the same space but never really meeting. taesan knows her name, her favorite subjects, and the way she twists her hair when she’s nervous. he knows she loves the first snow of winter and that she always picks strawberries out of her lunch. he knows these things, but she doesn’t know him—not really. not beyond the occasional smile in the hallway or a polite nod when their paths cross.

he’s told himself it’s fine, that admiring her from a distance is enough. but today, something’s different. maybe it’s the way the sun is setting, casting a warm glow on her face, or how she throws her head back in laughter, carefree and radiant. maybe it’s the way his friends nudge him, teasingly whispering that he should finally make a move. whatever it is, taesan feels the urge to cross the invisible line he’s drawn for himself. his heart pounds, loud and insistent, urging him to take a step, just one.

but fear is a stubborn thing. he’s too aware of his flaws—too quiet, too awkward, too much of everything he wishes he wasn’t. she’s surrounded by people who fit seamlessly into her world, and taesan feels like an outsider looking in. he watches as she glances his way, just for a second, her gaze brushing past him like he’s invisible. it’s a tiny moment, a fleeting glance, but it’s enough to send his hopes crashing down.

he turns on his heel, biting back the frustration that wells up inside him. why is it so hard to just say something? anything? he imagines a thousand scenarios in his head—what he would say if he weren’t so scared, how she might smile back, how they could walk home together talking about nothing and everything. but reality is cruel, and those daydreams crumble under the weight of his insecurities.

taesan stops at the school gate, leaning against the cold metal as he watches her from a distance. the shadows are growing longer, the sun dipping lower, and with it, the last threads of his courage unravel. he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, feeling the sting of another missed chance.

maybe next time, he tells himself. maybe tomorrow, or the day after that. but deep down, he knows that the next time might be just as elusive, just as unreachable as today.

the sky darkens, and taesan walks away, the sound of her laughter fading into the background. he doesn’t look back, but the memory of her stays with him, lingering like a half-finished song.

the laughter of your friends fills the space around you, light and carefree, but your mind drifts elsewhere. there’s a familiar weight on your shoulders today, a sense of something just out of reach. you glance around, your gaze sweeping over the schoolyard, half-listening to the conversation but not really hearing it. it’s then that you catch sight of him—taesan, standing alone near the school gate. he’s always been quiet, blending into the background, and you wonder, not for the first time, what’s on his mind.

you’ve seen him around, of course. the quiet boy with soft eyes who always seems to be on the periphery. he’s in your classes, sometimes sitting just a few desks away, scribbling in his notebook or staring out the window, lost in his thoughts. you’ve never spoken much, just polite exchanges here and there, but there’s something about him that draws your attention, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

today, though, he looks different—tense, like he’s carrying a secret too heavy to keep. you watch as he hesitates, his shoulders stiff, hands shoved deep into his pockets. he seems on the verge of doing something, but then he turns away, his expression shuttered and distant. you don’t know why, but the sight of him walking away stirs something inside you, a flicker of disappointment you weren’t expecting.

you wonder what he was thinking, standing there alone while everyone else was caught up in the moment. you want to call out to him, ask him if he’s okay or maybe just say hi, but the words stick in your throat. it feels silly, reaching out when you’ve barely exchanged more than a few words before. but still, you can’t help but feel like you’ve missed something important, something that passed between you in a heartbeat without either of you saying a word.

the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, and you know you should be focusing on your friends, on the carefree chatter and the plans for the weekend. but your gaze keeps drifting back to the spot where taesan stood, now empty and shadowed. you wonder if he ever feels as out of place as you do sometimes, if he’s ever caught between wanting to be seen and fearing what might happen if he is.

for a brief moment, you imagine calling out to him. maybe you could catch up, ask him why he looked so lost, or just walk home together in the fading light. but the moment slips away, and you let it, too unsure of what you’d even say. instead, you turn back to your friends, forcing a smile as if nothing’s changed.

but you know something has. you can’t quite shake the feeling that there was something unsaid between you and taesan, something that could have been different if either of you had the courage to speak. you steal one last glance toward the gate, hoping he’ll turn around, but he’s already gone, swallowed up by the city streets.

maybe next time, you think to yourself. maybe next time, you’ll say something before it’s too late.

the sun dips below the horizon, and you try to forget the quiet boy with the faraway look in his eyes. but as you walk home, you find yourself wishing that, just once, he would come back. that maybe, this time, neither of you would walk away.

years pass...

the engagement party is lively, a swirl of laughter, clinking glasses, and old friends reuniting. taesan didn’t plan on coming; he never liked these kinds of gatherings, but something compelled him tonight. as he navigates through the room, feeling slightly out of place, his eyes catch a familiar figure near the corner.

it’s you. the sight of you sends a rush of emotions through him—memories of school, missed chances, and all the times he watched you from afar but never said a word. you’re standing with a group of friends, your laughter a soft melody that cuts through the noise. for a moment, taesan hesitates. it’s been years, and so much has changed, but something deeper than nostalgia pushes him forward.

you notice him just as he approaches, the surprise clear in your eyes. “taesan?” you say, your voice tinged with disbelief and warmth.

he nods, smiling in that soft, familiar way. “yeah, it’s been a long time.”

“i didn’t expect to see you here,” you admit, still processing the unexpected reunion.

“yeah, me neither,” he says, a hint of nervous laughter in his voice. “i almost didn’t come.”

there’s a brief, shared silence, filled with the weight of years and all the things left unsaid. but then, as if no time has passed, the conversation starts to flow. you talk about the mutual friend whose engagement you’re celebrating, the twists and turns your lives have taken, and the quiet nostalgia of school days that feel both close and distant. it’s easy, effortless, and taesan finds himself smiling more than he has in a long time.

as the evening drifts on, the two of you gravitate away from the crowd, finding a quiet spot on the balcony. the city sprawls out before you, a sea of twinkling lights and distant sounds. taesan leans against the railing, stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

“you know,” he finally says, breaking the comfortable quiet, “i always wanted to talk to you back then, but i never had the guts.”

you turn to face him, surprised but not entirely. “i noticed you too,” you confess, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i always wondered why you never said anything.”

he chuckles softly, shaking his head. “i guess i was scared. scared of what you’d think. scared of not being enough.”

there’s a vulnerability in his words that pulls at something deep inside you, a sense of recognition that goes beyond just old high school memories. you’ve always wondered about him—the quiet boy with the faraway look in his eyes, the one who never quite stepped out of the shadows. and now, standing here with him, it feels like a missing piece of your past is finally falling into place.

“why didn’t we do this sooner?” you ask, half-serious, half-joking, but the question hangs between you, heavy with what could have been.

taesan meets your gaze, his eyes filled with a quiet determination that wasn’t there before. “i don’t know,” he admits, voice low but certain. “but i’m glad we’re doing it now.”

he reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, and you don’t pull away. the touch is gentle, yet it carries all the weight of your shared history, all the missed moments that led you to this one. you intertwine your fingers, feeling the warmth of his skin, and suddenly, the years of distance between you don’t seem to matter anymore.

the city lights dance around you, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels right. taesan’s arm slips around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and you lean into him, content in the quiet certainty of his presence. the past is behind you, and the future feels wide open, filled with all the possibilities you were too afraid to reach for before.

this time, there’s no hesitation, no fear. just the quiet promise of a new beginning, shared between two hearts that finally found their way back to each other.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. a/n: "maybe this time" has been stuck in my head more than usual... ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

taglist: @en-dream ｡･ﾟﾟ･ @onedoornet

[fgumi]

𝟏𝟗.𝟗𝟗; chapter three

*:･ﾟ✧ synopsis: seoin and the boys make a break for it. out of the lingering gaze of HYBE, they uncover the dark secrets that were hidden, pushing Seoin to reach out to jungwon for help. jungwon faces his own fears as he cautiously agrees to meet her, knowing it could be their only chance to expose the truth..

*:･ﾟ✧ pairing(s): taesan x original female character *:･ﾟ✧ genre: sci-fi, coming of age, romance *:･ﾟ✧ a/n: i've decided to release it every day or so, because the poll was split half and half if i take away my accidental vote. *:･ﾟ✧ word count: 9.6k *:･ﾟ✧ 19.99 mlist

The days that followed were filled with a heightened sense of urgency, every second ticking away as the boys prepared for what felt like their last chance at freedom. HYBE’s plans were unfolding at a terrifying pace, and the weight of the information Jaehyun and Sungho had settled heavily on everyone’s minds. They knew that the window to escape was closing, and if they didn’t act soon, they would be dragged into the war they were all so desperate to avoid.

The group huddled around their makeshift map, each boy’s face etched with determination and the heavy burden of what lay ahead. As they refined their escape plan, they knew their powers would be crucial to their success—but using them wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

Taesan, still focused on their route, tapped his finger on key points where they’d need to act quickly. “We’re going to have to rely on our powers if we want this to work. Timing is everything. Riwoo, your light manipulation will help us obscure our movements when we need cover, especially near the guards.”

Riwoo nodded, his expression serious. “I can bend the light around us, create distractions, and blind the cameras for a few seconds. It won’t last long, but it should buy us some time.”

Taesan continued, his gaze shifting to Woonhak, who sat quietly at the edge of the table. Everyone knew that Woonhak’s power of persuasion was their ace in the hole, but it was also the one they were most hesitant to rely on—especially Woonhak himself.

Woonhak’s face was tense, his usual light-hearted demeanor replaced by a deep, conflicted frown. “I don’t want to use my power,” he said, his voice firm but filled with a quiet agony. “I hate taking away people’s free will. It’s wrong, and I can’t stand the thought of controlling someone like that.”

Seoin watched Woonhak, understanding the weight of his words. Every time he used it, he felt like he was betraying his own principles, and the thought of doing that just to escape made him physically ill.

Taesan nodded, his expression empathetic. “I get it, Woonhak. And none of us want you to use your powers if you’re not comfortable. We’ve planned around it as much as we can, but we need to be ready for any situation. If there’s a moment where talking our way out is the only option, we’ll need you.”

Woonhak’s shoulders slumped, torn between his loyalty to his friends and his own moral code. “I’ll try,” he said finally, though his voice wavered. “But I won’t force anyone to do something against their will unless there’s no other choice. I just… I don’t want to become like HYBE.”

Seoin placed a reassuring hand on Woonhak’s shoulder. “You won’t,” she said gently. “None of us would ever ask you to go against who you are. We’ll only use it if we absolutely have to, and even then, we’ll make sure it’s as harmless as possible.”

Taesan met Woonhak’s gaze, his tone gentle and understanding. “We’ve got this covered, Woonhak. We’ve planned around your power because we know how much it matters to you. If there’s a moment where you feel it’s right, you decide. But if not, we’ll find another way. We’re in this together, no matter what.”

The boys continued refining their plan, adjusting for Woonhak’s reluctance and making contingency arrangements. Riwoo’s light manipulation would be used to create diversions—flashes to blind the cameras, shadows to cloak their movements, and blinding beams to disorient anyone who got too close. Taesan’s foresight would guide them through every twist and turn, anticipating HYBE’s responses and adapting in real-time.

As they practiced, Taesan would close his eyes, tapping into his visions of the possible futures. His power gave him glimpses of the paths ahead—some clear, others marred by danger—and he would relay what he saw, helping the group refine their movements with each trial run.

“We stick together,” Taesan reminded them as they finished a drill. “No one goes off on their own. We move as a unit, and if something changes, we adjust.”

The weight of the plan hung heavy, but it was their only shot. As they finalized the last of their preparations, each boy knew the risks they were taking, and each was prepared to fight for the chance at freedom, however slim.

Everything blurred together in a haze of preparation and whispered conversations. Every spare moment was spent fine-tuning their plan, practicing their routes, and mentally preparing for what lay ahead.

Tonight, they would conduct their final practice run—one last rehearsal before the real thing. Seoin could feel the pressure in the air as they gathered in the dimly lit training room, the flickering lights casting shadows that danced across their focused faces. They had rehearsed every detail, every contingency, but tonight was different. Tonight, the stakes felt real.

Taesan ran through the plan one more time, pointing out key moments where each of them would need to act. “This is our last chance to make sure everything’s solid,” he said, his voice calm but edged with a seriousness that underscored the gravity of their situation. “We’re sticking to the script, but remember, if anything feels off, we adapt. No hesitation.”

Seoin nodded along with the others, her mind already racing through the sequence of events they’d memorized. She was ready, but the fear of the unknown still gnawed at her. Every scenario Taesan had foreseen, every possible obstacle—they had prepared as much as they could, but there was no way to account for everything.

They moved through the facility with precision, navigating the corridors in silence, each step rehearsed until it felt second nature. Riwoo manipulated the lights, casting illusions and shadows that masked their movements. The faint glow of his power flickered along the walls, creating pockets of darkness that allowed them to slip past the cameras unnoticed.

Leehan’s time manipulation came into play at crucial moments, slowing down the world around them just enough to give the group an edge. Seoin marveled at his control, the way he seemed to stretch time like an elastic band, creating brief windows that they could use to their advantage.

Woonhak stayed toward the back, his presence a quiet but steady reassurance. He hadn’t used his powers once during the practice, but his watchful eyes scanned their surroundings, ready to act if necessary. Seoin could tell he was wrestling with his own fears, but his resolve to help his friends shone through in every step he took.

Taesan led the way, his foresight guiding their movements with a near-perfect accuracy. He would pause at intersections, closing his eyes for a moment as he glimpsed potential futures, then wave the group forward once he was certain the path was clear. His confidence was infectious, and Seoin found herself trusting his instincts completely.

They reached the outer gate—the final checkpoint before freedom. It was heavily guarded, just as they expected, but the boys moved with practiced ease, sticking to the shadows and timing their approach with the precision they had honed over countless drills.

Taesan signaled for a halt, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the gate’s security measures. “We’ll have a fifteen-second window when the shift changes. That’s our opening. Riwoo, use the lights to blind the cameras. Leehan, slow time just enough to get us through. Then we sprint.”

The group nodded, and Seoin could feel her pulse quicken as they prepared for the final push. They moved like clockwork—each action flowing seamlessly into the next, each power utilized with perfect timing. The gate loomed ahead, a symbol of everything they were fighting for, and Seoin’s heart pounded with a mix of fear and anticipation.

They made it to the gate, slipping through just as the guards shifted positions. It was fast, almost too fast, and Seoin felt a surge of adrenaline as they crossed the threshold. They were on the other side, just a few steps from the open air beyond the facility’s walls.

But suddenly, Taesan’s hand shot up, signaling them to stop. He had seen something—something that hadn’t been in any of their practice runs. The future had shifted, and Seoin could see the tension in his eyes as he quickly recalculated their next move.

“There’s a new guard rotation,” Taesan whispered urgently, his eyes darting between the gate and the facility behind them. “We need to pull back. Now.”

Without hesitation, the group retreated, moving back into the safety of the shadows. They hadn’t been spotted, but the close call was a stark reminder of how precarious their plan truly was. Every detail mattered, and any misstep could mean the difference between freedom and capture.

Back in the training room, the boys gathered in a tight circle, catching their breath and reviewing the unexpected change. Taesan’s foresight had saved them this time, but it was clear that the real escape would be even more unpredictable.

“We did good,” Taesan said, his voice steady despite the lingering tension. “But this is why we need to stay flexible. If something feels off, we pull back. No one gets left behind.”

The boys nodded, their resolve unshaken. They had come too far to turn back now, and despite the challenges, they were more determined than ever. Seoin could see it in their eyes—the fire that refused to be extinguished, the unwavering belief that they could defy the odds.

Tomorrow night would be the real test. They would put everything on the line, trusting in each other’s strengths to guide them to freedom. Seoin knew there were no guarantees, but as she looked at the boys—her teammates, her friends, her family—she felt a fierce hope that together, they could make the impossible possible.

The night was restless for Seoin. Despite the exhaustion from their intense training session, sleep eluded her, her mind racing with thoughts of the upcoming escape. But when she finally drifted off, her dreams were anything but peaceful.

Seoin found herself standing in a dimly lit room, the air thick with tension. She turned, and there, sitting calmly amidst the shadows, was Zeoin. Seoin felt a mix of apprehension and curiosity; every visit from Zeoin seemed to blur the line between guidance and warning.

Zeoin looked up, her expression tinged with urgency. “Seoin, you need to make contact with Enhypen,” she said, her voice firm. “Specifically, with Jungwon.”

Seoin stiffened at the mention of her twin brother. In this reality, they were still twins, but they had a different dynamic almost entirely. This Jungwon was practically a stranger compared to hers, and Seoin couldn’t help but feel a pang of hesitation at the thought of reaching out to him.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Seoin admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “In my reality, Jungwon was my other half. I can’t imagine seeing someone who looks just like him but doesn’t know me. It would hurt too much.”

Zeoin nodded, her gaze softening with understanding. “I know it’s hard. But Jungwon isn’t just another soldier—he’s your best chance at getting through to Enhypen. They’re HYBE’s most powerful team, and though they’re still loyal, they’re growing suspicious of HYBE’s true motives. If you can reach him, it might turn the tide.”

Seoin’s mind swirled with doubt. The thought of seeing Jungwon, of facing someone who should feel familiar but didn’t, was terrifying. “What if he doesn’t believe me? Or worse, what if he doesn’t care?”

Zeoin leaned forward, her expression earnest. “He will. Before I went on my last mission, I contacted Jungwon. He was the only one I could trust, and he helped me when I needed it most. Jungwon will help you, too. You just need to get him to trust you.”

Seoin’s curiosity piqued at the mention of Zeoin’s last mission—a mission that Zeoin had been avoiding discussing since their first meeting. “And how am I going to do that?”

Zeoin tilted her head in thought. “He’s already suspicious of HYBE. That’s what he told me when I contacted him. Tell him about Woonhak, about his powers. He already trusts you somewhat because he thinks you’re me and he’ll understand the urgency of the situation.”

Seoin nodded, but the uncertainty still lingered. She glanced at Zeoin, her frustration bubbling up. “What was your last mission, Zeoin? You keep talking about it, but you never say what it was. What happened?”

Zeoin’s expression darkened, her eyes darting away as she struggled to meet Seoin’s gaze. The weight of her regret was palpable, hanging between them like a shroud. “I… I can’t,” Zeoin whispered, her voice breaking. “It’s the one thing I can’t bring myself to tell you. I messed up, Seoin. I did things I wish I could take back. I’ll regret them for the rest of my life.”

The shame in Zeoin’s voice was clear, and Seoin felt a sharp pang of empathy mixed with a growing frustration. “Zeoin, please. I need to know. If I’m going to fix whatever’s happening here, I need to understand.”

Zeoin finally looked up, her eyes glistening with tears she fought to hold back. “I was acting to further HYBE’s agenda,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “They manipulated me, convinced me that I was doing the right thing. My mission was to assassinate the boys—your friends. HYBE believed it was the only way to push Woonhak into becoming their ultimate weapon.”

Zeoin’s voice wavered as she continued, the weight of her actions pressing down on her. “But it wasn’t just them. HYBE sent me on other missions too. I was ordered to take out key members of other units—soldiers who were starting to question HYBE’s control. They told me I was doing it for the greater good, that it was necessary to maintain order. And I believed them. I thought I was helping to keep everyone safe.”

Seoin’s stomach churned as Zeoin’s words sank in. Zeoin hadn’t just failed one mission—she had been a tool in HYBE’s hands, used to silence those who dared to challenge their authority. The guilt that weighed on her was deeper than Seoin had imagined, a web of lies and manipulation that had driven her to the brink.

Zeoin’s head dropped in shame, her voice choked with guilt. “I didn’t go through with the last one, but I got close—too close. I let HYBE’s lies get to me, and I almost… I was exactly what they wanted me to be.”

Seoin stood there, stunned into silence. She had known there was darkness in Zeoin’s past, but this was beyond anything she had imagined. And yet, as she looked at the broken figure in front of her, Seoin felt a surge of determination. Zeoin’s mistakes didn’t have to define her—or Seoin’s future.

“I’m not you,” Seoin said firmly, her resolve hardening. “And I won’t let HYBE turn me into their weapon. I’ll find Jungwon, and I’ll make things right.”

Zeoin nodded, her expression a mix of gratitude and sorrow. “I know you will, Seoin. You’re stronger than I ever was. Just… don’t make the same mistakes I did. Trust in the people around you, and don’t let HYBE’s lies control you.”

The dream began to fade, Zeoin’s figure dissolving into the shadows, but her words lingered in Seoin’s mind long after she woke. As she lay in the darkness of her room, Seoin knew that the path ahead was fraught with danger. But with Zeoin’s warnings and the boys by her side, she felt a flicker of hope.

✧✧✧

The morning of the escape was thick. Every corner of the facility seemed sharper, every sound more pronounced as Seoin moved through the halls. Today was the day, and the anxiety hung in the air like a storm cloud, ready to break. But it wasn’t just the impending escape that weighed on Seoin’s mind—it was everything Zeoin had told her, a heavy burden that Seoin knew she couldn’t carry alone.

She found Taesan in the training room, where he was carefully reviewing their escape plan one last time. His focus was intense, every line and note scrutinized as if they were the key to their survival. Seoin watched him for a moment, steeling herself for the conversation she knew they needed to have.

“Taesan,” she called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, his expression shifting from concentration to concern when he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. “Seoin, what’s going on? You look… worried.”

Seoin hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of the table as she gathered her thoughts. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she began slowly, her voice unsteady. “It’s… it’s about Zeoin.”

Taesan’s brow furrowed, and he set down the map, giving Seoin his full attention. “What did she say?”

Seoin took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the truth pressing against her chest. “It’s complicated,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s done things… things she regrets. She was used by HYBE in ways I can’t even imagine.”

Taesan watched her closely, sensing the turmoil beneath her words. “Seoin, you can tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”

Seoin’s throat tightened, and she struggled to find the right way to say it. “Zeoin… she told me about her missions. She wasn’t just fighting in the war—HYBE had her doing things behind the scenes, targeting people who were questioning them. She thought she was helping, but it was all manipulation.”

Taesan’s expression grew darker, his eyes fixed on Seoin as he waited for her to continue. Seoin could see the understanding dawning on him, the realization that this wasn’t just about random missions—it was something far more personal.

“She was sent to take out key figures,” Seoin continued, her voice thick with emotion. “People who were starting to see through HYBE’s lies. She was… she was their weapon, doing whatever they told her.”

Taesan stayed silent, his jaw clenched as he absorbed the information. He could sense there was more, something Seoin was holding back, and the suspense of it tightened the air between them.

Seoin looked away, her hands trembling slightly. “But it’s not just that. Her last mission… Taesan, it was supposed to be you guys.” She paused, the words catching in her throat. “HYBE wanted her to kill the boys. They thought it was the only way to push Woonhak into becoming their ultimate weapon.”

Taesan’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The enormity of what Seoin had revealed settled over him like a shadow, dark and suffocating. “She was going to…?”

“She didn’t even try,” Seoin said quickly, her voice trembling with the weight of her other self’s pain. “She couldn’t. The guilt from everything she’d done before was already eating her alive. She couldn’t bring herself to hurt you, not after what she’d already done. She was breaking apart inside.”

Taesan’s expression softened, a mix of anger at HYBE and empathy for the broken figure of Zeoin that Seoin described. “They twisted her so much… it’s no wonder she didn’t know how to make it stop.”

Seoin nodded, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. “She’s filled with so much regret. She’s terrified of what she became and what she almost did. And I’m scared I’ll mess up just like she did.”

Taesan reached out, gently squeezing Seoin’s shoulder. “You won’t. You’re not her, Seoin. And you’re not alone. Whatever HYBE threw at her, we won’t let it happen to you. We’ll figure this out together.”

Seoin looked at Taesan, her eyes brimming with gratitude and fear. “I don’t want to let you down.”

Taesan gave her a faint smile, a mix of sadness and resolve. “You’ve got this, Seoin. You’ve got us. And no matter what happens, we’ll be there to pick each other up.”

Seoin felt a wave of relief wash over her. Taesan’s steady presence was exactly what she needed in that moment—a reminder that, despite the chaos, she had people who supported her. “Thank you, Taesan,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

Taesan nodded, his eyes filled with quiet confidence. “We’re in this together, Seoin. No matter what happens.”

The hours before the escape were tense, every second dragging with the weight of anticipation. But just as the group was finalizing their preparations, Woonhak was pulled aside, taken into one of the facility’s restricted areas for his supplemental lessons. Each time left him more drained than before and, today, the timing couldn’t have been worse.

When Woonhak finally returned, the sight of him sent a shockwave of silent fury through the group. His usually bright complexion was pale, his eyes unfocused, and a thin trail of dried blood was smeared under his nose. He looked shaken, his movements stiff and guarded, and he didn’t say a word. The usual gentle smile that Woonhak wore, even in the worst of times, was gone, replaced by a hollow, distant look.

The boys bristled with anger, their expressions darkening as they watched him silently shuffle to his seat. Seoin felt her stomach churn at the sight of him—HYBE’s cruelty was on full display, and it was eating away at someone who was usually so cheerful. The unspoken question of what HYBE had done to him hung in the air, and Seoin could feel the rage simmering just beneath the surface of everyone in the room.

Taesan clenched his fists, his knuckles white as he glared at the floor, struggling to contain his fury. Riwoo and Leehan exchanged worried glances, their own anger barely masked by their concern for their youngest member. No one knew what to say, afraid that even the smallest comment might push Woonhak further into his shell.

They sat in uneasy silence during one of their breaks, the tension thick and suffocating. Seoin watched Woonhak from across the room, her heart aching at how small he seemed. She couldn’t bear to see him like this, trapped in his own mind, so she moved closer, sitting beside him with a quiet determination.

She didn’t say anything—didn’t want to risk startling him. Instead, she turned her hand palm-up on her lap, a silent offer of comfort. Woonhak hesitated, his eyes flickering to her outstretched hand before gingerly placing his own in hers. His touch was light, almost as if he was afraid of breaking something fragile between them.

Seoin’s heart broke at the timidness in his gesture. She could feel the tremble in his fingers, the unspoken fear that lingered in his every movement. She gently squeezed his hand, offering a silent promise of safety, and after a moment, he squeezed back, the faintest sign that he was still with them.

Across the room, Taesan watched the exchange, his eyes meeting Seoin’s in a moment of unspoken understanding. They didn’t need words to communicate the resolve that now filled them both—no matter what happened, they were getting out. HYBE had already taken too much from them, and after seeing what Woonhak had been put through, there was no turning back.

Seoin held Woonhak’s hand a little tighter, the small act of solidarity grounding her amid the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm them all. They would not let HYBE break him, not now and not ever. The escape was happening, and there was no force on Earth that could stop them.

Woonhak glanced at Seoin, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. It was small, barely there, but it was enough to strengthen Seoin’s resolve.

The group’s anger, fear, and heartbreak coalesced into a fierce determination. They would not let HYBE control their fate any longer. With every quiet glance, every small squeeze of Woonhak’s hand, they affirmed their promise to each other: they were leaving tonight.

✧✧✧

The facility was shrouded in an uneasy stillness as night fell, every shadow and echo magnified by the tension thrumming through the group. This was it—the moment they’d been planning and rehearsing for, and every nerve in Seoin’s body was on edge. The boys were gathered in a secluded corner of the facility, running through the final details of their plan one last time.

Taesan moved with a quiet confidence, his eyes scanning their surroundings as if trying to commit every possible outcome to memory. His foresight had been invaluable, guiding them through the countless drills and scenarios they had practiced. But this wasn’t just another drill—this was real, and any misstep could be their last.

“Security shift change is in five minutes,” Taesan whispered, his voice low but clear. “This is our window. Remember the plan—stick together, no unnecessary risks. We move fast, and we don’t stop.”

Riwoo nodded, his face lit by a faint glow as he prepared to manipulate the facility’s lights. “I’ll handle the cameras and cover the guards when we’re near the gate. Just give the signal, and I’ll blind them.”

Leehan adjusted his stance, his usually calm demeanor replaced by a steely focus. “I’ll slow time when we get to the main corridor. We’ll have a few extra seconds to clear it, but we can’t linger.”

Seoin watched them all, her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced at Woonhak, who stood slightly behind the group, still shaken but resolute. He hadn’t spoken since returning from his supplemental lessons, but his presence alone was enough to remind everyone why they were doing this.

The signal came—a faint beep that indicated the guards were switching positions. Taesan gave a sharp nod, and they were off, moving as one through the dimly lit hallways. The facility felt like a maze of tension and uncertainty, but the boys moved with practiced precision, each step bringing them closer to freedom.

Riwoo’s powers flickered to life, bending the light around them to create blinding flashes that obscured the cameras’ view. They darted through the corridors, sticking to the shadows as Riwoo manipulated the light, keeping them hidden from prying eyes.

Taesan led the way, his foresight guiding their every move. He paused briefly at intersections, his eyes narrowing as he glimpsed flashes of possible futures, then waved the group forward when the path was clear. They moved swiftly, their hearts pounding in unison as they navigated the twists and turns of the facility.

Leehan’s time manipulation slowed the world around them as they reached the main corridor, giving them precious seconds to slip past a group of guards. Seoin’s breath hitched as they moved, every second feeling like an eternity, but they made it through without a hitch. Taesan’s predictions held true, and the timing was perfect.

Finally, they reached the outer gate—their last major hurdle before freedom. It was heavily guarded, just as they had expected, but Riwoo’s light manipulation gave them the cover they needed. With a flash of blinding light, the cameras were temporarily disabled, and the guards were momentarily disoriented.

“Go!” Taesan urged, and the group sprinted toward the gate. The adrenaline coursing through Seoin’s veins was almost overwhelming, but the rush of being so close to freedom kept her moving.

They reached the gate, and for a heart-stopping moment, it felt as though everything was going according to plan. But as they began to breach the final barrier, Taesan’s eyes widened—he had seen something, a flicker of danger that hadn’t been there before.

“Wait!” Taesan hissed, grabbing Seoin’s arm and pulling her back. “Something’s wrong.”

A split second later, alarms blared, the harsh red lights of the facility flashing in warning. The guards snapped to attention, and Seoin’s heart dropped. They had been so careful, so precise, but something had changed—something Taesan hadn’t foreseen.

The guards began to converge, and the air was thick with the sound of shouting and the clatter of weapons. Riwoo’s light manipulation flared up again, blinding the advancing guards, but it wouldn’t hold for long. The boys were trapped between the gate and the guards, their path to freedom suddenly blocked.

Seoin’s mind raced, but Taesan’s grip on her arm steadied her. He looked at her with a fierce determination, refusing to let fear take over. “We’re not done yet,” he said, his voice cutting through the chaos. “We stick to the plan.”

Woonhak stepped forward, his expression tense but resolute. Seoin could see the conflict in his eyes—he hated using his powers, hated the very thought of it. But as the guards closed in, Woonhak’s determination to protect his friends outweighed his fear.

“Please,” Woonhak whispered, his voice carrying a desperate edge. He raised his hand, and the guards’ movements slowed, their aggression melting into confusion. Woonhak’s power of persuasion was subtle but undeniable, pushing the guards to hesitate, to second-guess their orders.

Taesan seized the moment, leading the group through the open gate just as Riwoo’s light flickered and the guards regained their senses. They were running now, the facility’s alarms echoing behind them, but they didn’t stop. There was no looking back, no hesitation.

They were free.

As they sprinted into the night, the weight of HYBE’s control fell away, replaced by the exhilarating rush of freedom. They had done it—escaped the impossible, defied the odds. And though the road ahead was uncertain, for the first time in a long time, they were finally in control of their own fate.

The night air was cool and filled with the faint sounds of the forest as the group made their way through the darkness, led by Riwoo. The adrenaline from their escape was still coursing through their veins, but the uncertainty of what came next loomed over them. Riwoo moved with a confident stride, occasionally glancing back at the group with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Where are we going?” Leehan asked, his voice low but edged with curiosity.

Riwoo just flashed a grin, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “You’ll see. Trust me, you’re going to like this.”

Seoin followed quietly, her mind still reeling from the events of the night. She glanced at the boys, noting the mix of exhaustion and anticipation on their faces. The escape had been a success, but the journey wasn’t over. Whatever Riwoo had planned, Seoin hoped it would give them the break they all desperately needed.

After what felt like endless minutes of weaving through trees and underbrush, Riwoo finally stopped at a dark clearing. Seoin’s eyes adjusted to the low light, and she could just make out the shape of a beaten-up red pickup truck, parked haphazardly among the trees. Leaning against the truck were two figures, their postures relaxed but alert.

Seoin squinted, trying to make out their faces in the dim light, but she couldn’t place them. Before she could ask, Woonhak’s voice broke through the silence, filled with desperation and relief.

“Jaehyun hyung!” Woonhak shouted, his voice breaking as he sprinted toward one of the men. The recognition was instant, and Seoin watched as Woonhak collided with the older figure, embracing him fiercely.

Jaehyun hugged him back just as tightly, whispering words of reassurance. “I’ve got you, Woonhak. I’ve got you.”

The rest of the boys rushed toward the second figure, calling out, “Sungho hyung!” and, in Riwoo’s case, simply “Sungho!” The reunion was a blur of relieved laughter and tight embraces, and Seoin found herself smiling at the sight. The joy was palpable, a moment of lightness after the tension of their escape.

But as the boys pulled away from Sungho, he caught sight of Seoin, and his expression immediately shifted. His gaze hardened, and without warning, he stepped forward, pushing the boys behind him with a protective instinct.

Taesan noticed the change first, his brow furrowing as he watched Sungho’s movements. “What’s wrong?”

Sungho kept his eyes fixed on Seoin, his voice edged with suspicion. “That’s Seoin Yang. She’s the Phantom.”

The revelation hit like a shockwave, the boys’ previously joyful expressions shifting into confusion and alarm. They instinctively moved into defensive positions, their bodies tensed as they tried to process Sungho’s accusation.

Seoin stepped back, startled and overwhelmed by the sudden hostility. She could feel the mistrust radiating from the group, and before she could say a word, Taesan and Woonhak quickly positioned themselves in front of her.

“Wait,” Taesan said sharply, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. “It’s not what you think.”

Jaehyun’s eyes narrowed, glancing between Seoin, Taesan, and Woonhak. “She’s the Phantom? How can you be sure she’s not dangerous?”

Taesan’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. “She’s not the same anymore. That Seoin is gone. This Seoin isn’t a threat.”

Seoin stood frozen, absorbing the weight of Sungho’s words. She understood their reaction—knew that Zeoin’s name carried the shadow of her past actions—but the sight of Woonhak moving to her side, his expression soft and unwavering, caught her off guard.

Woonhak reached out, taking Seoin’s hand in his, and offered her a small, reassuring smile. Seoin felt a wave of confusion; everyone else’s reaction made sense, but Woonhak’s quiet confidence in her was unexpected. It was as if he saw something in her that she didn’t fully understand herself.

Taesan’s voice was firm, layered with frustration and conviction. “Seoin isn’t the Phantom anymore. She’s not the person HYBE made her to be, and she’s on our side.”

The tension in the clearing didn’t fully dissipate, but the presence of Taesan and Woonhak at Seoin’s side made it clear: she wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t the enemy they feared. Slowly, the boys lowered their guard, their defensive stances easing into cautious acceptance.

Seoin squeezed Woonhak’s hand, feeling the unspoken promise in his gentle touch. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a step forward.

After the tense confrontation, the group decided they couldn’t linger in the exposed clearing. They followed Jaehyun and Sungho deeper into the woods, away from the pickup truck and prying eyes. The path was winding and overgrown, each step further cloaking them in the safety of darkness and distance.

After several minutes, they arrived at a run-down video game center, its neon lights long since extinguished, windows covered in grime, and the sign barely legible. Inside, old arcade machines stood like forgotten relics, covered in dust and cobwebs. A few makeshift beds were set up in the corners, evidence of Jaehyun and Sungho’s attempts to make the place livable. It wasn’t much, but it was hidden, and that made it safe.

Jaehyun turned to the group, his eyes still clouded with suspicion. “We’re not staying out in the open. It’s not safe,” he said, gesturing for everyone to take a seat on the scattered chairs and old benches. Once everyone was settled, he crossed his arms and faced Taesan and Seoin. “Now, you owe us an explanation. What the hell is going on?”

Taesan and Seoin exchanged a quick glance. Taesan stepped forward first, recounting everything they had gone through since Seoin’s arrival at the facility. He explained how they trained together, how Seoin’s presence was a welcomed addition, and the moments that led to their escape. But when it came to revealing Seoin’s true secret, Taesan hesitated, his words trailing off as he glanced at Seoin.

Seoin felt the weight of their stares, the unspoken questions hanging heavy in the air. She took a deep breath, knowing that she couldn’t keep her truth hidden any longer. “There’s more,” she said, her voice soft but clear. “I’m not the Seoin you think I am. Not really.”

Sungho’s brow furrowed, and Jaehyun’s expression hardened further. “What do you mean by that?” Sungho asked, his tone edged with impatience.

Seoin swallowed, gathering her courage. “The Seoin of this reality lost control of her powers. It caused a switch, a blending of our consciousnesses, and I ended up in her place. I’m from a different reality, one without this war, without HYBE, without… all of this.” She glanced around the run-down arcade, the surrealness of her situation still catching her off guard. “She’s still present, but only as a whisper in the back of my mind. I call her Zeoin to keep it straight. She’s like an afterthought… or a guide, sometimes.”

The room fell silent, each of the boys processing Seoin’s words with a mix of disbelief and confusion. The enormity of what she had revealed hung in the air like a dense fog, hard to see through and even harder to accept.

Woonhak was the first to speak, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “I knew it,” he said, glancing at Seoin with a faint, reassuring smile. “I knew you couldn’t be the Phantom. You’re too kind—too… you.”

Jaehyun’s expression tightened, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “Kindness doesn’t erase what the Phantom did,” he retorted, his tone edged with bitterness. “You don’t know what missions she carried out or why she was so important to HYBE. She was dangerous, valuable, and every bit the weapon HYBE wanted her to be.”

Seoin flinched at Jaehyun’s words, the reminder of Zeoin’s past cutting deeper than she’d expected. “I know,” she admitted quietly, meeting Jaehyun’s gaze. “I know what she did, and I know why she did it. But I’m not her. I’m trying to make things right, even if it’s not enough.”

The tension in the hideout was palpable, the weight of Seoin’s confession lingering in the dim, dusty air. Taesan stepped closer to Seoin, his presence a quiet reassurance at her side. “Seoin isn’t Zeoin,” he said firmly, looking directly at Jaehyun and Sungho. “She’s not responsible for what HYBE did to Zeoin, and she’s been fighting to help us since the moment she arrived.”

Jaehyun’s posture relaxed slightly, the rigid anger in his stance easing as he looked between Seoin and the others. Sungho still appeared wary, but the fire in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by a reluctant understanding.

Seoin didn’t have all the answers, and she knew she couldn’t erase the past. But as she stood there, surrounded by the boys who had slowly become her allies, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. Zeoin’s mistakes were not hers to carry alone, and together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead.

The tension in the run-down video game center slowly eased, but an uneasy silence still hung in the air. Jaehyun and Sungho exchanged a glance, the weight of everything they’d discovered during their time away pressing down on them. They knew it was time to tell the others the truth about what they had found.

Jaehyun leaned back against an old arcade machine, his expression grim. “There’s a lot you all don’t know,” he began, his voice low and heavy with the burden of secrets. “Sungho and I have been tracking HYBE’s operations, digging into things we weren’t supposed to see.”

Sungho nodded, his face set in a serious frown. “You know about the enhancements—everyone gets them on their 20th birthday. That’s standard. But what HYBE isn’t telling anyone is that they’ve been pushing beyond that. They’re trying to give people more than one power.”

Seoin’s eyes widened, and the boys exchanged anxious glances. Taesan spoke up, his voice edged with skepticism. “More than one power? How is that even possible?”

Jaehyun’s face darkened. “It’s not, at least not safely. Every time they’ve tried, it’s failed—disastrously. The enhancements become unstable, and the people they experiment on… they don’t survive.”

Sungho’s voice tightened, his frustration clear. “HYBE’s been running these experiments in secret, combining abilities from different subjects in an attempt to create someone with multiple powers. They think they can make the ultimate soldier, someone who could change the entire course of the war. But it’s not working. Every test subject ends up dead or worse.”

Leehan’s expression turned grim. “That’s why we’ve been seeing more and more disappearances. Those trainees weren’t just lost—they were killed by HYBE’s experiments.”

Woonhak looked down, visibly shaken by the revelation. The idea of his friends being used and discarded like failed experiments was almost too much to bear. Seoin squeezed his hand gently, a silent promise that they would get through this together.

Taesan’s anger simmered just below the surface, his fists clenched tightly. “So HYBE is just playing god, trying to make super-soldiers and killing people in the process.”

Jaehyun nodded. “Exactly. They don’t care who gets hurt, as long as they find the right combination. It’s all just a numbers game to them. We found files on dozens of test subjects who didn’t make it. Their records were erased, their deaths covered up. They’re trying to perfect something that isn’t meant to exist.”

Sungho looked at the group, his eyes filled with determination. “HYBE is willing to sacrifice as many lives as it takes to get what they want. They’re not just fighting a war—they’re trying to reshape it to fit their own agenda. And we’re all just pawns in their game.”

The weight of Jaehyun and Sungho’s words settled over the group, the full extent of HYBE’s ruthless ambition laid bare. They had known about the enhancements, had accepted them as part of their reality, but this was something else entirely. HYBE was playing with forces they didn’t fully understand, and people were dying because of it.

Seoin felt a surge of determination rise within her. They couldn’t let HYBE continue this. They couldn’t let their friends’ lives be treated as disposable. “We have to stop this,” she said, her voice filled with quiet resolve. “Whatever HYBE is planning, we can’t let them keep doing this.”

Taesan nodded, his expression fierce. “We’re going to find out exactly what HYBE is hiding, and we’re going to put an end to it. No more experiments, no more deaths. They don’t get to control us anymore.”

The group’s resolve solidified, their anger and fear transforming into a united front against HYBE’s twisted plans. They had escaped, but now they had a new mission: to expose HYBE’s lies and put a stop to the deadly experiments that had cost so many lives. Together, they would fight back, and they would make HYBE answer for what they had done.

The group sat in the dimly lit hideout, the gravity of Jaehyun and Sungho’s revelations still sinking in. Jaehyun’s face was etched with frustration as he pulled out a stack of worn, crumpled papers from his bag—evidence of his long nights piecing together HYBE’s dark secrets.

“There’s something else,” Jaehyun said, his voice strained with the weight of his findings. “I found records—hidden files on every person the Phantom was sent to kill. Every single target Seo- Zeoin was ordered to eliminate… they’re all gone.”

Seoin’s stomach churned, and the rest of the boys went silent, their eyes fixed on Jaehyun. He spread the papers out on a dusty arcade machine, each sheet detailing a different name, a different life that had been snuffed out by HYBE’s orders.

“These people weren’t just targets,” Jaehyun continued, his tone laced with anger. “They were key figures—soldiers, informants, scientists—anyone who started questioning HYBE’s methods or showed signs of dissent. And every time the Phantom completed a mission, HYBE wiped them from existence. Their records, their contributions… all gone.”

Sungho stepped forward, pointing at the documents spread before them. “HYBE used Zeoin to silence anyone who posed a threat to their agenda. They used her powers to erase people from all realities, making sure no one would remember them. And it worked.”

Seoin stared at the papers, each one a haunting reminder of Zeoin’s past actions. She could feel the guilt clawing at her, even though the choices hadn’t been hers. “So… HYBE got exactly what they wanted,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “They manipulated her, made her believe she was doing the right thing, and now those people are gone forever.”

Jaehyun nodded, his expression somber. “HYBE’s erasure wasn’t just about killing people—it was about rewriting history. The Phantom’s missions removed anyone who could have stood in their way. And it wasn’t just the physical act of killing; it was total annihilation. No one knows they were ever there.”

Taesan’s jaw tightened, his anger simmering just below the surface. “They didn’t just want them dead—they wanted them forgotten.”

Seoin glanced at the names on the papers, each one a silent testament to the lives lost. The enormity of Zeoin’s actions weighed heavily on her, but there was no turning back. She couldn’t undo what had been done, but she could make sure HYBE’s lies didn’t continue.

Woonhak squeezed Seoin’s hand, offering a small, reassuring presence in the midst of her turmoil. He looked at her with quiet resolve. “I know it wasn’t you, Seoin,” he said softly. “And we’re not going to let HYBE get away with it.”

Sungho’s expression was grim, his eyes fixed on the damning evidence before them. “HYBE’s been using us, all of us, as tools in their sick game. But now we have the truth. We can expose what they’ve done.”

Jaehyun nodded, determination flickering in his eyes. “We’re going to bring these people back. We’re going to bring everything HYBE’s done into the light, and we’re going to tear down everything they’ve built on the backs of these lies.”

The group’s resolve hardened, the weight of their mission clearer than ever. They weren’t just fighting for themselves anymore—they were fighting for every life that HYBE had tried to erase, every person who had been silenced by the Phantom’s hand. Together, they would make sure those voices were heard again.

The atmosphere in the hideout was thick with tension and determination. Seoin sat quietly, her thoughts a swirl of conflicting emotions as she considered what needed to be done. The truth about Zeoin’s missions and HYBE’s deadly ambitions weighed heavily on her, but she knew there was one person who could help them turn the tide—Jungwon.

Seoin glanced at the others, her gaze finally settling on Jaehyun and Taesan, who were deep in conversation about the logistics of their next move. She hesitated, feeling the familiar whisper of Zeoin in the back of her mind—a guiding presence that was both reassuring and unnerving.

You need to contact him**,** Zeoin’s voice echoed softly, a mix of urgency and resolve. He’s the only one who can help.

Seoin nodded slightly, acknowledging the voice within her. She could feel Zeoin’s presence growing stronger, as if the weight of everything they had uncovered was fueling her will to stay connected. “We need to reach out to Jungwon,” Seoin finally said, her voice steady but filled with determination.

Taesan looked up, surprised by her sudden declaration. “Jungwon? Are you sure?”

Seoin nodded. “Zeoin thinks he’ll help. Even if this isn’t my… Jungwon. And I… I have to believe that he’ll listen.”

Jaehyun frowned slightly, considering the risks. “Sending a message to Enhypen is dangerous. HYBE monitors everything, and if they catch even a hint of it, they’ll know we’re trying to reach out.”

Taesan nodded in agreement but glanced at Seoin, seeing the determination in her eyes. “We’ll have to be smart about it. If HYBE catches wind, it’ll put us all in danger.”

Seoin felt Zeoin’s guidance settle over her, clear and insistent. There’s a way. Send something only he would recognize. It has to be personal—something he’ll know comes from me**.**

“What do we say?” Seoin asked aloud, turning her focus inward as she searched for the right words. Zeoin’s memories flickered through her mind, moments that Seoin herself had never lived but felt deeply connected to nonetheless. Then, it clicked—a memory from Zeoin’s last contact with Jungwon.

Seoin looked at Jaehyun and Taesan, her expression resolute. “We need to send a message that only he would understand. Something HYBE wouldn’t catch. We’ll encrypt it, but it has to be something that he and Zeoin shared—something that’s theirs alone.”

Jaehyun nodded, quickly setting up his laptop on the dusty arcade machine. “We can use an encrypted messaging service. I’ve cracked some of HYBE’s codes before, so I can work around their firewalls. But what’s the message?”

Seoin closed her eyes, letting Zeoin’s presence guide her. The memory surfaced slowly—a moment filled with a deep, quiet connection between Jungwon and Zeoin. It was a phrase they had shared, one that spoke of their bond and carried a meaning only the two of them would understand.

Seoin opened her eyes, feeling the echo of that moment as she spoke. “The phrase we need to send is moonstruck,” she said softly, her voice tinged with the emotions of a memory that wasn’t hers but felt deeply familiar.

Taesan looked at her curiously. “Moonstruck? What does that mean?”

Seoin smiled faintly, the word holding a special resonance. “It was something Jungwon said to Zeoin once, after a long, difficult day. He told her that when everything felt overwhelming, it was like the moon had cast a spell on them, making even the darkest nights feel a little less heavy. Moonstruck became their way of saying that no matter how lost or distant they felt, they’d always find their way back to each other.”

Jaehyun nodded thoughtfully, understanding the weight of the phrase. He quickly typed it into the message, encrypting it carefully. The word was hidden within layers of code, an unassuming signal that only Jungwon would recognize amidst the noise.

“It’s done,” Jaehyun said, his fingers pausing over the send button before finally pressing it. “The message is out there.”

Seoin watched the screen, her heart heavy with anticipation. The word hung in the air, bridging the space between her reality and Zeoin’s, a small but significant hope that Jungwon would understand.

Taesan squeezed Seoin’s shoulder gently. “He’ll get it. And when he does, we’ll be ready.”

Seoin nodded, feeling a mix of fear and hope. With Zeoin’s guidance and the help of her new allies, she had reached across the divide. Now, all that remained was to see if Jungwon would reach back.

✧✧✧

Jungwon sat in the private villa HYBE had provided Enhypen, the luxurious surroundings a stark contrast to the turmoil simmering beneath the surface. It was late, and the faint hum of the villa’s security systems buzzed quietly in the background. He had been trying to relax, but the weight of everything that had been happening lately made it impossible.

He leaned back on the plush sofa, his gaze drifting to the moonlight filtering through the large windows. The villa was meant to be a haven, a place where they could rest between missions, but to Jungwon, it felt more like a gilded cage. He was restless, constantly on edge, knowing that even here, HYBE’s influence was never far away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his computer screen flicker. At first, he dismissed it as another minor glitch, but when the entire screen went black, Jungwon’s attention snapped to it. The room felt colder, the faint glow of the computer casting eerie shadows as he watched.

Slowly, a single word appeared on the dark screen: “moonstruck.”

Jungwon blinked, confusion knitting his brows as he stared at the word. It was random, strange—something he hadn’t thought about in a long time. For a moment, he couldn’t place it, his mind searching for the connection. But as the seconds ticked by, recognition flickered in his eyes, and the weight of the word settled over him.

His breath hitched, memories crashing over him like a tidal wave. “Moonstruck.” It was more than just a word; it was a secret, a shared phrase that only one person would send him. His heart pounded as realization dawned—this was from Seoin. The familiarity of it sent a jolt of fear and hope coursing through him.

Jungwon hesitated, the gravity of the situation settling over him. HYBE’s surveillance was always a looming threat through their pervasive presence and tight control over communications. This wasn’t something he could ignore, but the risk was high—too high without taking precautions.

He quickly moved to his desk, pulling out a small, modified device that Sunoo had crafted: a makeshift spoofer that masked their digital footprints, providing a temporary shield against any potential breaches. Jungwon hooked it up to his computer, the device humming faintly as it activated.

He sat down, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Every instinct told him to be careful, but the pull of that single word—moonstruck—was too strong to resist. He typed a quick response, his hands moving with a mixture of anxiety and determination.

Who is this? he typed, the tension in his chest tightening with every second that passed.

He waited, each moment stretching into an eternity as the screen remained blank. The villa’s silence felt oppressive, every sound amplified in the quiet of the night. Then, finally, the screen flickered, and a new line of text appeared.

It’s Seoin. I need your help.

Jungwon’s heart pounded at the confirmation. He leaned closer, his eyes scanning the screen as he typed back, careful to keep his responses vague.

Seoin, is that really you? I need to be sure.

The pause that followed felt like a lifetime. Jungwon’s fingers twitched restlessly on the desk, his mind racing through the implications of this sudden contact. Then, another message appeared.

I found out more about what we last talked about. I had to leave HYBE because it wasn’t safe.

Jungwon took a deep breath, the weight of her words sinking in. He knew Seoin—knew her well enough to sense when she was in distress, and this felt real. But there was still so much he didn’t understand. His trust in HYBE had already been eroded, and now this message from Seoin only deepened his suspicions.

He glanced at the spoofer, knowing that their time was limited. The longer they kept the connection open, the higher the risk. He typed back, his words filled with a cautious determination.

I’m listening. But if we’re going to do this, we have to be careful. Tell me what you need.

Seoin’s reply was almost instant, as if she had been waiting desperately for him to take the first step.

I need you to meet me. HYBE can’t know. I’ll explain everything then.

Jungwon’s mind raced, the implications of her request swirling around him. He knew the dangers, knew that meeting Seoin would put them both at risk. But there was no denying the urgency in her words, the weight of the truth she was trying to share.

Okay, he typed, his resolve hardening. Tell me where and when. I’ll be there. But if you’re leading me into a trap, this ends now.

Seoin’s final message appeared, concise but filled with the unspoken promise of answers.

Trust me. I’ll send you the coordinates in a day’s time. Come alone or with the rest of Enhypen. We’re going to end this, together.

Jungwon stared at the screen, his thoughts a tangled mix of fear, hope, and the unmistakable pull of the familiar. He disconnected the spoofer, the screen flickering back to normal as if nothing had happened. But everything had changed.

turn the page? back or forward

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idols. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

taglist: @en-dream ｡･ﾟﾟ･ @onedoornet

[fgumi]

so sorry for the delay in releasing the other chapters— uni is still a very much big thing in my life and so is procrastination. i'm scared it actually sucks...

i also just spent the past 30 minutes crying over jungwon. i have never loved a kpop group or idols like i love enhypen and boynextdoor;; heeseung, jungwon, and taesan. it's not even an entirely romantic inclination. i just admire how much they do for themselves and their fans so deeply.

my head can't comprehend how they're able to do all these concerts, fan signs, and promotions and not want to disappear for a decade. after a day of hanging out with friends, i wanna disappear for a week.

guys, they've stolen my heart, mind, body, and soul— also, my money SLDJWAPKMV

[fgumi]

𝟏𝟗.𝟗𝟗; chapter two

*:･ﾟ✧ synopsis: seoin’s powers finally awaken during a high-stakes training simulation, but the painful experience leaves her questioning the cost of her newfound abilities. as the boys learns of hybe’s plans to deploy them, their old escape plan resurfaces, sparking a desperate push to protect woonhak and reclaim their futures.

*:･ﾟ✧ pairing(s): taesan x original female character *:･ﾟ✧ genre: sci-fi, coming of age, romance *:･ﾟ✧ a/n: remember how i said i wanted a subtle romance... i don't think i know how to do subtle... *:･ﾟ✧ word count: 9.0k *:･ﾟ✧ 19.99 mlist *:･ﾟ✧ warning: scenes of (fake) death, slightly graphic

The days at HYBE were relentless, each one blurring into the next with drills, combat simulations, and moments of quiet camaraderie that Seoin had grown to rely on. Her training with the boys had intensified, and they were slowly letting her in, their guarded expressions softening as they shared small victories and setbacks.

Taesan was both Seoin’s toughest critic and closest ally. He pushed her harder than anyone, his critiques sharp and unrelenting, but there was no denying that he was always watching out for her. During one particularly grueling session, Seoin dodged a swinging target, narrowly avoiding a hit. Taesan, ever precise, demonstrated the maneuver again, his movements fluid and controlled. “Like this. Don’t react—predict.”

Seoin followed his example, frustration simmering as she struggled to keep up. “Easy for you to say,” she muttered under her breath. “You literally see the future.”

Taesan paused, surprised by her grumbling, but his expression remained calm. “Yeah, maybe. But I still had to learn how to use it,” he said, his tone less about rebuke and more about understanding. “You’ve got something too, Seoin. You just have to find it.”

Seoin tried to focus, letting his words sink in, but her mind drifted, weighed down by the nagging feeling that she wasn’t measuring up. She could feel herself getting stronger, but it never felt like enough. Not when she was surrounded by boys with powers that were second nature to them. She couldn’t help but think of her brother, Jungwon, and how he would have thrived in this place.

This would have been easy for him, Seoin thought bitterly. He was a natural leader, someone who could read a situation and adapt in an instant. Jungwon would have seen every angle, predicted every move, and turned each training session into another effortless win. But Seoin wasn’t Jungwon, and each time she faltered, the gap between who she was and who she wished she could be seemed to grow wider.

Taesan’s strike landed lightly against her arm, pulling her back to the present. He looked at her, a mix of curiosity and concern in his gaze. “You keep pausing like you’re waiting for something. What is it?”

Seoin hesitated. “It’s nothing,” she lied, not ready to admit her struggle to him—or to herself. “Just… trying to get my head around all this.”

Taesan studied her for a moment longer, but he didn’t push. He simply nodded, handing her a water bottle after the session ended. “You’re getting better. Don’t get caught up in what you can’t do yet. Focus on what you are doing.”

Seoin took the bottle, forcing a small smile despite the frustration gnawing at her. She knew Taesan’s words were meant to help, but it was hard to shake the feeling of inadequacy that clung to her. As much as she wanted to rise to the occasion, the thought of her brother lingered, a constant reminder of who she wasn’t. But Seoin was determined to keep going, to keep trying, even if it meant taking each step forward with the weight of her doubts pressing down on her.

The group found a moment of respite in one of the quieter corners of the facility. The boys sprawled out on the benches, catching their breath and rehydrating as they chatted about the day’s exercises. Seoin sat beside Woonhak, who seemed quieter than usual, his usually bright demeanor subdued by the strain of their intense routine.

Woonhak glanced at Seoin, offering a small, tired smile. “You did well today,” he said, nudging her lightly with his elbow. “You’re getting faster.”

Seoin smiled back, appreciating the encouragement more than she could express. Woonhak had become her biggest supporter, always ready with a kind word or a reassuring gesture when she needed it most. Their growing bond felt natural, effortless, like a sibling connection that filled a space in Seoin’s heart she hadn’t realized was empty.

“Thanks, Woonhak. I’m trying,” Seoin replied, leaning back against the wall. She watched him fiddle with a stray thread on his sleeve, his brow furrowed slightly in thought. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

Woonhak nodded, but Seoin could see the fatigue in his eyes. “Just a bit worn out. I guess… sometimes I think about how things might have been if all this wasn’t happening.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t remember much from before HYBE. Just flashes, really. A couple of memories that aren’t even all that clear. But they’re the only happy ones I have.”

Seoin listened quietly, absorbing the weight of his words. She hadn’t realized just how much of Woonhak’s life had been consumed by the war and HYBE’s relentless training. The small, rare moments of normalcy he clung to were all he had left of a world he barely knew.

“That sounds tough,” Seoin said softly, feeling a pang of sadness for him. “I’m sorry you don’t have more of those memories.”

Woonhak shrugged, his expression resigned but not bitter. “It is what it is. But you being here… it’s nice. You remind me of what I think it would’ve been like to have a sister or someone to look out for.”

Seoin’s heart ached at his words, and she couldn’t help but think of her brother, Jungwon. Woonhak’s gentle nature and quiet strength reminded her so much of the bond she missed, and it made her long for the life she’d been torn away from.

“I have a brother back home,” Seoin said, her voice tinged with longing. “Jungwon. He’d always tease me but would look out for me, too. I think he’d get along with you.”

Woonhak’s eyes softened, and he leaned his head gently against her shoulder, a small, comforting gesture that felt like home. “I’m glad you’re here, Seoin. Even if this place isn’t the best, it’s better with you around.”

Seoin smiled, resting her head lightly against his. “Same, Woonhak. I’m glad I have you.”

They sat like that for a moment, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Woonhak had grown up knowing only bits and pieces of a life before HYBE, but in Seoin, he found a connection that filled some of the gaps left by a war-torn childhood. And for Seoin, Woonhak was a reminder of the simple, sibling bond she missed, a tie that made the chaos around them a little more bearable.

As the boys began to wrap up, Woonhak pulled Seoin aside, his expression a mix of concern and brotherly protectiveness. “Hey, if you ever need to talk… about anything, you can always come to me. I mean it.”

Seoin nodded, touched by his sincerity. “I know. And the same goes for you. We’ve got each other’s backs.”

Woonhak smiled, the light returning to his eyes. “Always.”

As they rejoined the group, Seoin felt a renewed sense of purpose. She might still be searching for her place and her powers, but with Woonhak by her side, it felt a little less daunting. In moments like these, when the weight of the world seemed to lift, Seoin realized that family wasn’t just about blood—it was about the people who stood by you when everything else fell apart.

✧✧✧

Over the course of a couple of days, the atmosphere around the boys had shifted, a subtle undercurrent of tension weaving through their interactions. Seoin noticed it most when it came to Woonhak. He had been missing from their usual training sessions more frequently, pulled aside for supplemental lessons that none of them were privy to. Each time he returned, Woonhak looked more worn out, his smiles weaker, and his eyes shadowed with a fatigue that went beyond physical exhaustion.

It was clear that whatever HYBE was doing with Woonhak, it was taking a toll. The other boys tried to keep things light, joking around whenever they could, but the strain was evident. Seoin watched Taesan’s usual stoicism give way to moments of anxious pacing, Leehan’s calm demeanor cracking with uncharacteristic irritation, and Riwoo’s jokes turning into half-hearted attempts to lighten the mood.

Woonhak rarely spoke about what went on during his separate sessions, but the unspoken fear lingered: “completion” was approaching, and none of them knew what it truly meant. Seoin could feel their unease growing, a constant tension that weighed heavily on their group dynamic. The boys were protective of Woonhak, but HYBE’s grip was tightening, and there was little they could do to shield him.

One afternoon, during a rare lull in training, Seoin and the boys were resting near the facility’s back corridors when they overheard two HYBE officials talking in low voices, their conversation echoing faintly down the hall. Seoin and the others exchanged a glance, curiosity piqued, and they listened in silence.

“We need to re-assimilate her quickly,” one official said, his tone brisk and authoritative. “If her powers are still dormant, we’ll have to find a way to trigger them. She was crucial to the mission before—if we can’t get her back to that state, we risk losing everything.”

The other official nodded, her voice laced with impatience. “Her original mission was pivotal. We can’t afford any more delays. We’ll have to monitor her progress closely and make adjustments as needed.”

Seoin felt her stomach twist. They were talking about her, about placing her back on a mission she didn’t even remember. The boys stiffened around her, each processing the implications of what they’d just heard. Taesan’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his face as he turned to Seoin.

“What original mission?” Taesan asked, his voice edged with a mix of confusion and accusation. “You said you didn’t remember anything.”

Seoin hesitated, the weight of their gazes pressing down on her. “I don’t,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “HYBE never told me what my mission was—just that I went missing and my powers haven’t come back. I’m not lying.”

But Taesan’s suspicion didn’t waver. “They don’t send people out without a plan, Seoin. You had a role, something important. How do we know you’re not still under their influence?”

Seoin’s frustration flared, mixed with the sting of his distrust. “I’m not,” she snapped, her voice rising in defense. “I’m just as lost as you are! I don’t know what they want from me or why I’m here. I just want to figure this out, same as you.”

The tension between them thickened, and the others shifted uncomfortably. Leehan placed a calming hand on Taesan’s shoulder, but his own concern was evident. “Taesan, come on. She’s one of us now. If she knew more, she’d tell us.”

Taesan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned away, clearly still wrestling with his doubts. Seoin watched him, feeling the sharp sting of being on the outside again, just when she’d thought she was beginning to find her place.

Woonhak, sensing the brewing conflict, stepped forward, his voice gentle but firm. “We don’t know everything that HYBE’s doing,” he said, his gaze moving between Seoin and Taesan. “But Seoin’s here with us. She’s trying, and that’s more than enough.”

Seoin nodded, grateful for Woonhak’s words but feeling the tension between her and Taesan like a chasm that had suddenly widened. She understood his suspicion—HYBE’s plans for her were as much a mystery to her as they were to the boys. But the sting of his distrust cut deeper than she expected, adding another layer of complexity to their already strained relationship.

As they walked back to their training area, Seoin couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. The looming threat of Woonhak’s “completion,” the uncertainty of her own role, and the tension with Taesan weighed heavily on her mind. She was determined to find answers, to earn the boys’ trust completely, but as HYBE’s secrets continued to unravel, Seoin realized that every step forward only seemed to reveal more questions.

✧✧✧

The facility was quiet, the usual clamor of training replaced by the stillness of night. Seoin lay in her room, staring at the ceiling as thoughts of the day’s events whirled in her mind. Taesan’s words still stung, his suspicion a stark reminder of how precarious her position was among the boys. She tossed and turned, unable to find any comfort in the solitude of her room.

Restless, Seoin decided to take a risk. She slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound, and crept into the dimly lit hallways of HYBE. The facility felt different at night—less imposing, almost peaceful. She moved with quiet steps, her mind aimlessly wandering until she found herself at the entrance of the observatory. It was a place she rarely visited, but tonight, the idea of gazing up at the stars felt oddly comforting.

Seoin pushed the door open and stepped inside, immediately noticing the vast glass ceiling that revealed the starry sky above. The room was bathed in soft, muted light, the stars twinkling like tiny diamonds scattered across a velvet sky. It was beautiful, a brief escape from the confines of the facility. But before she could settle in, Seoin froze. She wasn’t alone.

Taesan stood near the large window, his silhouette framed against the night sky. He was staring up at the stars, lost in thought, unaware of Seoin’s presence. For a moment, Seoin considered turning back, slipping away before he noticed her. But as she moved to leave, Taesan’s quiet voice stopped her.

“You can stay,” he said without turning around, his voice softer than she was used to. “I can go if you’d rather be alone.”

Seoin hesitated, her gaze lingering on him. There was something unexpectedly gentle about the way he stood there, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. She saw a side of him that she hadn’t before—a quiet vulnerability hidden beneath his usually guarded exterior. “No, it’s fine. The observatory’s big enough for both of us,” she replied, her tone cautious but sincere. She walked to the opposite end of the room, taking a seat on a bench and staring out into the darkness. The stars were mesmerizing, their faint light dancing against the glass, and for a few moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Taesan’s eyes flickered toward her, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of his guilt. “For earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just… I’m always on edge when it comes to Woonhak and the others. I can’t help it.”

Seoin continued to stare at the stars, letting his words sink in. She understood his protectiveness—it was a trait that made him a good leader—but it didn’t erase the hurt from his accusations. “I get it,” she said finally, her voice soft but edged with the lingering sting of his doubts. “But it still hurt. I’m trying my best to figure things out, and the boys… you guys are everything I have right now. I don’t know anything else. I’m alone in this world.”

Taesan turned his head slightly, catching the faintest trace of vulnerability in her voice. He watched her, his gaze softening in a way that made Seoin’s heart skip a beat. The silence stretched between them, charged with an unspoken tension that neither knew how to address. “What do you mean by that?” he asked carefully, not wanting to push too hard but unable to hide his curiosity.

Seoin’s hesitance was palpable, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of the bench. She glanced at Taesan, his intense gaze drawing her in despite her reservations. “It’s… complicated,” she said, her voice wavering. For a moment, she wanted to say more, to let him in on the truth she had kept locked away, but the fear of being misunderstood held her back.

Taesan shifted closer, the faintest hint of warmth radiating from him in the cool night air. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice softer, almost tender. “I know I’m not the easiest person to talk to. I just—” he stopped himself, struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t want to lose anyone. Not again.”

Seoin’s heart ached at his admission, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through her defenses. She had never seen Taesan like this, and it stirred something deep within her—a mix of empathy, understanding, and something else she couldn’t quite name. A part of her wanted to reach out, to close the distance between them, but she held back, unsure of where this uncharted territory would lead them.

She finally spoke, her voice tinged with the weight of her hidden truths. “Having no memory of my life before… it’s so isolating. Everyone else seems to know their place, their purpose. But I don’t have any of that.”

She trailed off, the weight of her words hanging between them. Taesan watched her closely, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying. He opened his mouth to speak, but something stopped him—a feeling that whatever Seoin was grappling with was bigger than either of them.

A soft whisper in the back of Seoin’s mind urged her forward. It was Zeoin’s voice, faint and distant, but clear enough to reach her. Trust him. The words were simple, but they struck a chord deep within Seoin, pushing her toward a decision she wasn’t sure she was ready to make.

Seoin glanced at Taesan, her heart pounding. She knew she could turn away, keep her secrets buried, or she could take the leap and let someone in. Taesan met her gaze, his eyes filled with a quiet patience that told her he would wait as long as she needed.

The moment hung in the balance, and Seoin knew that whatever she chose to say next could change everything.

Seoin’s mind raced as she considered her next words. The room felt charged, the air thick with unspoken emotions, and the faint whisper of Zeoin’s encouragement echoed softly in her thoughts. She glanced at Taesan, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her, waiting patiently despite the tension that lingered between them.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “I don’t know how to explain this in a way that makes sense,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “But I’m not… I’m not supposed to be here, Taesan. This world, this reality—it’s not where I’m from.”

Taesan frowned, his confusion evident, but he remained silent, letting Seoin speak at her own pace.

“In my world, there’s no war. No HYBE, no superhuman experiments,” Seoin continued, her words spilling out faster now, as if saying them aloud made them more real. “I was just… normal. I had a family, friends, a brother. My twin, Jungwon. I was ordinary in every way, and then suddenly, I was here.”

Taesan’s expression shifted from confusion to something closer to understanding. “So, you don’t remember your life because… it’s not your life?”

Seoin nodded, feeling both relief and fear at finally voicing the truth. “Exactly. When I woke up here, everything was different. I’m not the Seoin you all think I am. I don’t even know what happened to… her, the Seoin from this world. But I keep having these dreams where I meet her, and she tells me things. It’s like our minds are connected, and she’s asking me to fix what she couldn’t.”

Taesan’s gaze softened, and he moved closer, his usual guardedness replaced by a quiet empathy. “That’s… a lot to take in,” he said, his voice gentler than Seoin had ever heard it. “No wonder you feel so lost.”

Seoin nodded, feeling the tears prick at her eyes. “It’s like I’m constantly trying to play catch-up in a game I don’t understand. I don’t know why I’m here, what I’m supposed to do, or how I’m supposed to help. And every day, it feels like I’m failing at something I never signed up for.”

Taesan was silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of her confession. He looked up at the stars, his expression contemplative, as if searching for answers in the vast, endless sky. “I don’t know what brought you here, Seoin,” he said finally, “but I don’t think you’re failing. You’re here, trying to make sense of something impossible, and that takes more strength than you realize.”

Seoin blinked back her tears, surprised by his words. She had expected skepticism, maybe even disbelief, but not this quiet acceptance. “You’re not scared?” she asked, her voice small. “That I might be some kind of risk to you all?”

Taesan shook his head. “I’m not scared of you, Seoin. I’m scared of what HYBE’s doing, what they want from all of us, and how little control we have. But you… you’re trying to do right by us, even when you don’t have to. That’s all I need to know.”

The tension between them eased, replaced by a newfound understanding that bridged the gap left by their earlier argument. Seoin felt a warmth spreading through her chest, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone in this as she thought.

“Thanks, Taesan,” Seoin said quietly, her voice filled with gratitude. “For listening. And for… believing me.”

Taesan offered her a rare, small smile, his usually stoic demeanor softening. “Anytime. And Seoin… you’re not alone. Not as long as you’ve got us. Not as long as I’m around.”

Seoin’s breath hitched at his words, the sincerity in his voice sending a flutter of warmth through her chest. It was a simple statement, but it carried a promise she hadn’t expected, and in that moment, Seoin felt the first flicker of something more between them—a connection that went beyond words.

They sat together in the observatory, side by side but not touching, the stars above them a silent witness to the fragile bond slowly taking shape. As Seoin glanced at Taesan, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she could trust him with more than just the pieces of her past. Perhaps, she could trust him with her heart as well.

✧✧✧

The morning after her late-night conversation with Taesan, Seoin felt a mix of exhaustion and something unfamiliar—hope. The night had been filled with confessions and shared vulnerabilities, and though neither had spoken directly about it, there was an unspoken understanding that things had shifted between them. It was a quiet change, a soft undercurrent of trust that now ran beneath their interactions.

Training resumed with its usual intensity, but Seoin found herself more focused, her movements sharper as she tackled each drill. Taesan was still tough on her, his critiques as pointed as ever, but there was a subtle shift in his tone, a quiet encouragement that hadn’t been there before. Every time Seoin faltered, she could feel his presence nearby, a steadying force that helped her push through.

During a particularly grueling exercise, Seoin found herself paired with Woonhak, who was clearly struggling. His steps were sluggish, and the spark that usually lit up his eyes was dimmed by the exhaustion that clung to him like a shadow. Seoin watched him carefully, her protective instincts kicking in as she adjusted her pace to match his.

“You okay?” Seoin asked, her voice low as they moved through the simulation together.

Woonhak nodded, but Seoin could see the fatigue etched into his features. “I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just… tired.”

Seoin placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard, you know. It’s okay to take a break.”

Woonhak shook his head, his determination evident despite his weariness. “I can’t afford to. Not with everything coming up.”

Seoin understood what he meant without needing further explanation. Woonhak’s looming “completion” hung over them like a storm cloud, and HYBE’s relentless expectations were wearing him down. She wished she could do more, but all she could offer was her presence and the quiet promise that she would be there, no matter what.

As the session continued, Seoin noticed Taesan watching them from across the room. His gaze lingered on her. Seoin met his eyes briefly, and in that shared look, there was a flicker of something that made her heart skip—a reminder of the stars, the soft light, and the whispered confessions that had drawn them closer.

The boys regrouped after training, settling into their usual spots as they caught their breath. Taesan approached Seoin, handing her a water bottle with a casualness that belied the charged moment they had shared. “You’re improving,” he said simply, his voice steady but with a warmth that hadn’t been there before. “Keep it up.”

Seoin took the bottle, her fingers brushing against his in a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of warmth through her. “Thanks,” she replied, her smile genuine. “I’m trying.”

Leehan and Riwoo exchanged knowing glances, picking up on the subtle shift between Seoin and Taesan. It was nothing obvious—no grand gestures or overt changes in behavior—but the air between them felt different, lighter somehow. The others didn’t comment, but the quiet acknowledgment in their eyes spoke volumes.

Woonhak, sitting beside Seoin, leaned in slightly, his expression mischievous despite his exhaustion. “Did something happen?” he asked in a whisper, his tone teasing.

Seoin blushed, shooting him a playful glare. “Nothing happened,” she said, though the memory of Taesan’s soft words and the warmth of his presence lingered in her mind. “We just talked.”

Woonhak smirked, satisfied with her response but clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Just talked, sure.”

Seoin nudged him lightly, grateful for the teasing banter that momentarily lifted the heavy mood. It was in moments like these that she realized how much the boys had come to mean to her. They were her makeshift family in a world that still felt foreign, and with each passing day, her bond with them grew stronger.

As the group dispersed, Taesan lingered, watching Seoin with an expression that was both contemplative and reassuring. He didn’t say anything more, but his presence was enough—a silent promise that whatever came next, they would face it together. And for the first time, Seoin felt that maybe, just maybe, she was exactly where she was meant to be.

✧✧✧

Taesan had been watching Seoin closely ever since their conversation in the observatory, his protective instincts sharpening each time she seemed to struggle with her powers. They had spent several training sessions experimenting, trying different methods to help Seoin trigger the elusive abilities that Zeoin had told her about. But every time, they came up short. Seoin’s frustration grew with each failed attempt, and Taesan’s determination to help her only intensified.

They stood alone in the training room, the faint hum of the facility’s machinery the only sound. Seoin was tired, her patience wearing thin after another fruitless session of trying to connect with her powers.

“It’s like there’s a wall in my mind,” Seoin said, exasperated. “Zeoin said I need to feel it, but nothing makes sense. I’ve tried everything.”

Taesan rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze thoughtful. “Zeoin said it’s triggered by a strong pull, something instinctual, right? We’ve tried calming you down, meditation, everything to relax you.”

Seoin nodded, her shoulders slumping. “Yeah, but it’s like it’s just… blocked.”

Taesan hesitated, a new idea forming in his mind. It was risky, and he wasn’t sure if it was the right approach, but it might be the only way to elicit the kind of reaction that Zeoin had described. He glanced at Seoin, conflicted but determined to help her unlock her potential.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I’m sorry, Seoin,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with reluctance.

Seoin frowned, confusion crossing her face. “What are you—”

Before she could finish, Taesan walked over to the interface and activated a battle simulation. The room around them transformed, the lights dimming as the walls shifted to create a chaotic battlefield. Seoin found herself standing alone in the midst of it, surrounded by smoke and the distant sound of gunfire. She looked around, disoriented, when she spotted Riwoo just a few feet away.

He was crumpled on the ground, blood seeping from a wound in his side. Seoin’s heart lurched at the sight, panic surging through her. She rushed forward, but as she got closer, she saw Leehan desperately trying to reach Riwoo. Just as he stretched out his hand, a laser beam sliced through Leehan’s chest, piercing his heart.

Leehan staggered, his face twisted in pain, but he didn’t stop. He dropped to his knees beside Riwoo, desperately trying to slow down time around him, to give him just a few more precious seconds. Seoin watched, helpless, as Leehan’s strength failed him. He collapsed, inches away from Riwoo, his powers unable to save his friend.

Seoin’s pulse pounded in her ears. This wasn’t real—it couldn’t be—but the agony of watching her friends fall was visceral, cutting through her like a knife. She felt paralyzed, caught between the urge to help and the suffocating fear that nothing she did would make a difference.

Woonhak appeared at her side, his usual smile strained but still present. He hadn’t yet seen the carnage in front of them. “Seoin? What’s going on?” he asked, but when he followed her gaze, his face drained of color. Without hesitation, Woonhak sprinted to Leehan and Riwoo’s side, his hands trembling as he tried to use his powers.

“Stop the bleeding,” he commanded, his voice breaking as he focused on Riwoo’s wounds. But in his panic, Woonhak’s control slipped. Instead of stopping the bleeding, his powers turned against him. Riwoo’s and Leehan’s hearts stuttered, then stopped entirely.

Woonhak’s face contorted in horror, tears streaming down his cheeks. “No, no, no—please, not this.” His voice broke as he tried to reverse what he had done, but it was too late. Before he could grieve, a laser beam shot through Woonhak’s head, the light extinguishing in his eyes before he crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

Seoin screamed, the grief and terror overwhelming her senses. She felt her heart racing, pounding so fiercely that it drowned out everything else. The anguish of losing them, even in a simulation, tore through her. The sheer intensity of the emotion was like a switch flipping in her mind, and suddenly, Seoin felt a pull—deep and undeniable.

Her consciousness shifted violently, and for a moment, Seoin was caught between realities. She saw flashes of herself in different lives—a scientist, a warrior, a healer—each one familiar yet foreign. Zeoin’s voice whispered urgently in her ear, barely audible over the rush of images. Focus, Seoin. You know what to do.

Seoin blinked, and her vision split. Through one eye, she saw the battlefield, and through the other, she found herself in a sterile hospital room, dressed in scrubs. She was a doctor in this life, with steady hands and a wealth of medical knowledge that suddenly flooded her mind. She could feel both realities at once, like two overlapping dreams.

In the battlefield, Seoin moved on instinct, rushing to the boys’ sides. She dropped to her knees beside Riwoo and Leehan, her hands working frantically to apply pressure, administer aid, do anything to save them. Her actions were precise, guided by the skills of the doctor she had glimpsed in that alternate life. But despite her best efforts, it wasn’t enough. Their bodies remained lifeless, their wounds too severe for her to mend.

The simulation dissolved around Seoin, the battlefield fading back into the familiar confines of the training room, but the images of her friends’ lifeless bodies were burned into her mind. She collapsed to the floor, her entire body trembling as sobs tore from her chest. The grief, the guilt, and the sheer terror of what she had witnessed coursed through her like a tidal wave, refusing to let go.

Taesan was at her side in an instant, his usually calm demeanor shattered by the sight of Seoin breaking down. He knelt beside her, his heart pounding as he reached out, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. Seoin clung to him, her grip desperate and unsteady, as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded in a world that had spiraled out of control.

“I’m sorry,” Taesan whispered, his voice thick with regret. He held her tightly, his hands gently running along her back in a soothing motion. But Seoin’s sobs only grew louder, the sound echoing in the empty room, raw and unfiltered. Taesan rocked her slightly, trying to offer any comfort he could, his own eyes stinging with tears he refused to let fall. “I’m so sorry, Seoin. It wasn’t real—they’re okay. You’re safe. None of it was real.”

Seoin’s cries didn’t ease; they came in waves, her entire body shaking as she buried her face in Taesan’s shoulder. The weight of the simulation, the sight of her friends dying over and over, was too much to bear. Every breath felt ragged, like she couldn’t get enough air, and she clutched at Taesan’s shirt, desperate for something solid to hold on to.

Taesan didn’t let go. He tightened his embrace, anchoring her in the present with every firm squeeze and gentle murmur. “It’s okay, Seoin,” he repeated, his voice breaking with the effort to stay calm. “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

Minutes passed, but it felt like hours as Seoin’s cries slowly began to soften, each sob turning into a quieter, hitching breath. Her face was wet with tears, her chest aching from the strain, but Taesan’s presence—steady, unyielding—slowly brought her back to herself. He whispered words of reassurance, his fingers brushing soothing patterns along her back, and gradually, Seoin’s grip on him loosened.

She pulled back slightly, her face still tear-streaked, her eyes red and swollen from crying. But even then, she couldn’t fully let go, her hands still clutching his sleeves as if afraid he might disappear. Taesan brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek as he wiped away a lingering tear with a tenderness that sent a new wave of emotion crashing through Seoin.

“I thought… I thought I lost them,” Seoin choked out, her voice fragile and unsteady. “It felt so real. I couldn’t save them.”

Taesan’s heart twisted at her words, and he cupped her face gently, his touch warm and grounding. “It was just a simulation,” he said softly, though the conflict in his voice was unmistakable. “I knew it would be intense, but… it’s what finally worked for me. That fear, that pain—it’s what triggered my powers. I thought it might help you too.”

He paused, the guilt of his actions weighing heavily on him. “I didn’t want to put you through that. I hated doing it, but I didn’t know how else to help. And now, seeing you like this…” Taesan’s voice broke, and he pulled her close again, his own regret surfacing. “I’m sorry, Seoin. I really am.”

Seoin nodded, though her breathing was still uneven, the reality of what had happened settling heavily in her chest. She rested her forehead against Taesan’s, her eyes closing as she tried to find her bearings. Taesan’s touch was reassuring, and his quiet murmurs—promises of safety, of protection—finally began to break through the fog of grief.

“I’m here,” Taesan whispered again, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of Seoin’s emotions. “You’re okay. The boys are okay. I’m so sorry, Seoin.”

The minutes dragged on, but Taesan never let her go, his hands tracing gentle circles on her cheek, his own breaths shaky but steadying for her.

“It worked,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the determination in it was clear. “It finally worked.”

Taesan’s brow furrowed, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He reached up, wiping the last of her tears away, his touch lingering as he traced the curve of her cheek. “You did it,” he said quietly, pride and relief mingling in his tone. “You found your power.”

“How did you even get that simulation?” Seoin asked, her voice tentative but curious. “The things it showed—how did you make it so real?”

Taesan hesitated, his expression tightening as he looked away. He hadn’t planned to tell her, but the question was unavoidable. “It wasn’t something I made,” he said bitterly, the edge in his voice sharper than before. “It was my simulation. My fear simulation.”

Seoin’s eyes widened in shock. “Your simulation? HYBE made that for you?”

Taesan nodded, the bitterness clear in every word. “Yeah. They designed it specifically for me when I first went through enhancement. I couldn’t trigger my powers on my own, so they used that. Made me watch it over and over until I could predict every outcome, anticipate every loss. Until my powers finally kicked in.”

Seoin’s heart sank as she processed his words, the true extent of what Taesan had been through becoming painfully clear. HYBE hadn’t just trained him—they had broken him down, using his deepest fears as a tool to force his abilities to the surface. The simulation that had torn Seoin apart was something Taesan had endured countless times, a personal hell crafted just for him.

“I’m sorry,” Seoin said, her voice trembling with the weight of her sympathy. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was like that for you.”

Taesan shrugged, but there was no hiding the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. “It’s just how they do things here. Fear is the fastest way to unlock powers, and they don’t care how much it messes you up in the process.”

Seoin could feel the bitterness in his words, the resentment he carried for being pushed so far. She reached out, her hand resting lightly on his arm—a simple gesture of comfort, but one that spoke volumes. “Thank you,” she said softly, her gratitude mingled with the sadness of knowing what it had cost him. “For sharing that with me. And for… for helping me, even if it was hard.”

They sat together for a while longer, the world around them slowly coming back into focus. Seoin knew the pain of what she had just experienced wouldn’t fade easily, but Taesan’s presence—his unwavering support—was enough to help her through it. And for the first time, Seoin felt a glimmer of hope that she could truly harness her abilities, not just for herself, but for the people she cared about.

Taesan’s arms remained around her, a silent promise of safety, and in that moment, Seoin knew that no matter how difficult the path ahead, she wouldn’t have to face it alone.

✧✧✧

The sound of simulated gunfire faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of Seoin’s controlled breathing. She stood at the center of the training room, her hands still trembling slightly from the adrenaline of battle, but for once, there was a sense of accomplishment coursing through her veins. She had done it—triggered her powers without hesitation, her movements precise and instinctive as she navigated the simulation with newfound skill.

The trainer watched her with a rare look of satisfaction, his stern expression softening as he made a note on his tablet. “Well done, Seoin,” he said, his tone grudgingly approving. “That’s the kind of performance I expect to see. Keep this up, and you’ll be back on mission readiness in no time.”

Seoin nodded, trying to mask her relief with a confident smile. It wasn’t often that the trainers offered praise, and even less so when it came to her. The boys exchanged excited looks, their pride in Seoin’s success palpable. Woonhak gave her a thumbs-up, Riwoo let out a cheer, and Taesan’s quiet nod of approval was enough to make her feel like she was truly starting to belong.

“In light of today’s performance, you all have the rest of the day off,” the trainer announced, much to the boys’ delight. “Make good use of it.”

As soon as the trainer left, the boys erupted into celebration, dragging Seoin into the lounge area. The room quickly filled with the sounds of laughter and playful banter as they set up a console and dove into a competitive game. Seoin watched, her heart warm as she saw how easily they interacted, the camaraderie that had been forged through their shared struggles.

Woonhak handed her a controller, his eyes bright with excitement. “Come on, Seoin! Show us what you’ve got!”

Seoin joined in, and the hours passed in a blur of friendly competition. For a moment, the harsh reality of HYBE faded, replaced by the simple joy of just being together. Taesan, usually so serious, even cracked a smile as he battled Riwoo on the screen, the tension of the past few days momentarily forgotten.

The sound of an unfamiliar beep cut through the room, snapping everyone out of the carefree atmosphere they had created. Riwoo’s face went pale, and the boys immediately dropped their controllers, darting to Riwoo’s side. The sudden shift in their demeanor was startling, and Seoin watched, bewildered, as they crowded around Riwoo, their expressions tense and focused.

Riwoo pulled out a phone—something Seoin knew none of them were supposed to have—and glanced down at the screen, his brows furrowing in concentration. Seoin stood off to the side, her confusion growing. Phones were strictly forbidden for trainees, and yet here they were, all huddled around one like it was their lifeline.

“What’s going on?” Seoin asked, her voice edged with concern. The boys didn’t immediately respond, their attention fixed on the glowing screen.

Noticing her confusion, Woonhak nudged Taesan, prompting him to explain. Taesan looked to the others, silently checking if it was okay to share what they had been hiding. With nods from each of them, Taesan turned to Seoin, his expression serious yet slightly hesitant.

“There’s something we haven’t told you,” Taesan began, his voice careful. “Before you came, there were two more members of our group. Jaehyun and Sungho. They were like brothers to us—trained with us, fought alongside us.”

Seoin listened closely, taking in Taesan’s words and the somber expressions on the boys’ faces. “HYBE took them. They started asking questions, poking around where they shouldn’t have, trying to figure out what this place is really about. HYBE didn’t like that, so they tried to lock them up. But before they could do anything, Jaehyun and Sungho managed to escape.”

Seoin’s mind flashed back to the two cells she had seen when she first arrived at HYBE, their doors broken and empty. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now it all started to make sense. “Those cells,” Seoin murmured, piecing it together. “I saw them when I got here. They were broken open.”

Taesan nodded, his expression darkening. “That was them. They broke out before HYBE could do whatever it is they had planned. But before they left, they managed to slip this phone to Riwoo. It’s the only way we can keep in touch.”

Riwoo held up the phone, and Seoin could see a message blinking on the screen, though she couldn’t make out the words. The boys’ eyes were fixed on it, as if it were a lifeline connecting them to their lost friends.

“They’ve been sending us updates whenever they can,” Woonhak added quietly. “It’s dangerous, and they have to stay hidden, but they promised they’d keep us informed if they found anything important.”

Seoin felt a rush of emotions—fear for Jaehyun and Sungho, respect for their bravery, and a deepened sense of loyalty to the group standing beside her.

Taesan’s hand tightened slightly on her shoulder, grounding her. “This stays between us, Seoin,” he said firmly. “No one else can know. HYBE’s watching everyone, and if they find out about this… it won’t be good.”

Seoin nodded, the weight of this new knowledge settling over her. She was more determined than ever to stand by the boys, not just as a teammate but as someone they could trust with their most closely guarded secrets.

The room was heavy with silence as the boys crowded around the phone again, their eyes scanning the latest message from Jaehyun and Sungho. Seoin stood just behind them, watching as the boys’ expressions shifted from concern to outright alarm. The gravity of the words on the screen was palpable, and Seoin could feel her heart begin to race.

Riwoo read the message aloud, his voice tight with anxiety. “We’ve been monitoring HYBE’s correspondences closely. In a week’s time, they’re sending you all to the battlefield.”

Seoin’s breath hitched, and she looked at the boys, their faces pale as the reality of their impending deployment sank in. This would be their first time facing actual combat, a terrifying prospect that loomed larger than any simulation.

Jaehyun’s message continued: “HYBE’s pushing to finalize their agenda. They’re releasing Woonhak soon—he’s their strongest weapon. We don’t know exactly what they’re planning, but they’re moving fast.”

Woonhak stiffened, his usually kind eyes clouded with fear. The weight of being HYBE’s prized experiment was a burden he carried silently, but now it was clear that HYBE had no intention of letting him remain in the shadows much longer.

There was a pause as Riwoo scrolled further, his thumb hesitating over the final part of the message. “Sungho added something else,” Riwoo said, his voice quieter. “He says… to be wary of the Phantom. Encrypted messages from HYBE are hinting at the return of one of their soldiers. They’ve named this soldier Phantom, and they’re about to be deployed soon.”

A chill ran through the room as Riwoo’s words sank in. The boys exchanged uneasy glances, their minds racing with the implications. Then, almost in unison, their eyes shifted to Seoin. The timing, the secrecy—it all felt too coincidental.

Seoin’s heart pounded as she realized what they were thinking. The connection was obvious, and she couldn’t deny the uncomfortable truth of it: she had appeared out of nowhere, with no memory of her previous life, fitting perfectly into the narrative of a lost soldier returned. The unease in the boys’ eyes made it clear that they were starting to question everything.

“You think I’m the Phantom,” Seoin said, her voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a question—it was a statement of the growing doubt that was spreading among the group.

Riwoo and Leehan exchanged worried looks, and even Woonhak seemed to pull back slightly, uncertainty flickering across his face. “Seoin, it’s just… it’s a lot to take in,” Leehan said, his tone cautious. “We don’t know what HYBE’s done or what they’re planning. But this… it matches up too well.”

Seoin’s throat tightened. She wanted to explain, to tell them everything she knew about Zeoin, about her power, and about how she didn’t belong in this reality. But the words stuck, and all she could feel was the weight of their suspicion.

Taesan, who had been silent, suddenly stepped forward, his expression firm. He reached out and grabbed Seoin’s hand, his grip warm and reassuring against her cold fingers. “Whatever HYBE might think,” Taesan said, his voice steady and full of conviction, “Seoin is on our side. I’ve trained with her, fought beside her, and I know she’s with us. That’s all that matters.”

The room fell silent again, Taesan’s declaration hanging heavily in the air. Seoin looked up at him, gratitude and relief washing over her in a wave. Despite the doubts and the unknowns, Taesan’s unwavering trust was a lifeline she desperately needed.

Woonhak glanced at Taesan, then back at Seoin, his tension slowly easing as he nodded. “I believe you,” he said softly, his voice filled with the kind of quiet sincerity that made Seoin’s chest tighten. “We’re in this together, no matter what. Remember?”

Riwoo and Leehan hesitated, but seeing the resolve in Taesan’s eyes, they exchanged a look and nodded in reluctant agreement. Seoin squeezed Taesan’s hand, feeling a renewed sense of determination. She knew she couldn’t erase the boys’ doubts overnight, but she would prove herself to them in every way she could. They were her family now, and she wasn’t going to let anything—least of all HYBE’s manipulations—tear them apart.

Seoin and Taesan sat on the edge of one of the sofas, her mind still reeling from the boys’ reactions and the unsettling realization that her arrival wasn’t just a coincidence. She could feel their eyes on her, a mix of trust and lingering suspicion, but above all, there was a shared understanding that HYBE’s plans were accelerating. They were running out of time.

Woonhak broke the silence first, his voice wavering but resolute. “We can’t let them take us. Not like this. Not when they’re planning to use me.” He looked around at his friends, his fear for them clear in his eyes. “HYBE’s never going to let us go, and I don’t want to be their weapon.”

The boys nodded in agreement, their expressions hardening as they processed Woonhak’s words. The idea of HYBE deploying them, especially Woonhak, felt like a final nail in the coffin—one they weren’t willing to accept.

“We’ve talked about this before,” Taesan said, his tone more serious than Seoin had ever heard. “Escaping. We never went through with it because it seemed impossible. But now… with this new information and with Seoin here, maybe it’s our only chance.”

Riwoo glanced at Taesan, his brows furrowed in thought. “We know HYBE’s keeping a close eye on us, especially now that they’re gearing up to send us out. But if we wait, it’ll be too late. Once Woonhak’s out there, they’ll use him however they want, and we won’t have any control.”

Seoin listened, her mind racing as the boys began to consider their options. Leehan leaned forward, his expression tense but determined. “We’d have to time it perfectly. HYBE’s security is tight, and they’re expecting us to follow orders. But if we could find a way to get out… all of us, including Woonhak… it’s worth the risk.”

The boys fell into a deep discussion, tossing around ideas and strategies, their voices tinged with a mix of fear and defiance. They talked about the schedules they had memorized, the weak points they’d observed in HYBE’s routines, and the potential distractions they could create. Each plan was riddled with risks, but the thought of being free—of taking control of their own fates—was enough to keep the conversation going.

Seoin watched them, feeling a surge of admiration for their courage. They were tired, scared, and constantly under HYBE’s watchful eye, but they were still fighting, still clinging to the possibility of a life beyond the walls of the facility. It made Seoin’s heart ache to think of how much they had already endured, and how much more they were willing to risk for the chance to protect one another.

Taesan turned to Seoin, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. “You’re a part of this now,” he said, his voice unwavering. “We can’t do it without you, Seoin. We need you on our side.”

Seoin nodded, the weight of his words settling over her like a promise. She didn’t have all the answers, but she knew she couldn’t stand by and let HYBE use the boys as pawns in their twisted game. “I’m in,” she said firmly, her resolve solidifying. “Whatever it takes, I’m with you.”

Woonhak looked at her, his expression both grateful and relieved. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll find a way to protect each other.”

As they continued to strategize, Seoin felt a renewed sense of purpose. The fear of being the Phantom still lingered, but it was overshadowed by the fierce loyalty she felt for the boys who had become her family. They weren’t just talking about escape anymore—they were planning it, and this time, they weren’t going to let HYBE decide their fate.

Together, they would find a way out.

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[fgumi]

hii! i don’t know if you have a taglist for your bnd works, but if you do, i’d love to be part of it!!

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[fgumi]

ꕥ after-party; — heeseung drabble, wc: 770, genre: fluff

the prada after-party was alive with energy, the room filled with fashion’s elite, each corner buzzing with conversation and laughter. the lighting was low, a mix of reds and blues flashing to the rhythm of the music, creating a vibrant, dreamlike atmosphere. you were right in the middle of it all, dancing with an effortless joy that made you stand out even in the crowded room.

enhypen sat off to the side, watching the party from their seats. heeseung, ever the introvert, preferred it that way—quietly observing rather than diving into the chaos. but tonight, his eyes rarely left you, drawn to the way you moved with such ease and happiness.

you turned, catching his gaze, and a playful idea struck. with a mischievous smile, you pretended to tug on an invisible rope, playfully trying to ‘pull’ him toward you. heeseung’s lips curled into a reluctant smile, his expression caught between playful and flustered. he loved dancing, but parties were not his scene—except when it involved you.

“you’re really gonna do this to me?” he mouthed, though the fondness in his eyes gave him away.

the rest of enhypen chuckled as heeseung reluctantly stood, dramatically acting like he was being pulled forward. “he’s whipped,” sunghoon joked, nudging jay, who laughed in agreement. his bandmates laughed, cheering him on as he approached you, clearly amused by his playful reluctance.

heeseung rolled his eyes, but his smile never faded as he stumbled toward you, playing along with your game. as he reached you, the song shifted, and bruno mars’s “versace on the floor” began to play, filling the room with its sultry beat. the irony wasn’t lost on either of you, and you both broke into laughter, leaning closer as the music enveloped you.

“versace? at a prada party? how off-brand,” you joked, wrapping your arms around his neck.

heeseung’s smile was shy but genuine, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “yeah, but we’ll make it work,” he said, his voice low and laced with affection. he placed his hands gently on your waist, pulling you into a slow dance. you swayed together, your movements soft and natural, finding a rhythm that was just yours.

heeseung’s gaze softened, his cheeks still tinged pink as he took in every detail of you. “you look beautiful tonight,” he whispered, his voice barely louder than the music. “i’d rather be anywhere but a party, but… with you, it’s different.”

you smiled, your heart fluttering at his words. “you’d rather be at the hotel, right?” you teased, leaning your forehead against his. “but i’m glad you’re here.”

heeseung nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “yeah, sleeping sounds nice, but… i wouldn’t want to miss this,” he confessed quietly. “you make all of this worth it.”

you twirled lightly, letting his touch guide you back to him, your movements synchronized like you were in your own little world. the flashing lights, the crowded room, and the pounding music all faded away, leaving just the two of you swaying gently in each other’s arms.

heeseung pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “thanks for making me feel… less out of place,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere. “i’d dance a thousand times if it meant being close to you.”

you giggled softly, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. “you’re the best dancer here, hee,” you whispered. “but i’m glad you’re dancing with me.”

the two of you continued to move together, sharing smiles and quiet laughter, wrapped up in a moment that felt like it was made just for you. and even as the song played its final notes, heeseung stayed close, his arms around you, content to let the world fade away for just a little while longer.

later that night, after the party wound down, you and heeseung found your way back your hotel rooms, exhausted but happy. as you both drifted off to sleep, neither of you knew that twitter was already buzzing with excitement, fans going wild over the rare sight of heeseung out of his seat and on the dance floor.

“heeseung dancing?? with that smile? i’m done 😭💕” “you can tell he’s so in love… they’re adorable!” “he looks so happy. they bring out the best in him!” “only they can get heeseung to dance at a party. i’m soft.”

the clips of your dance were everywhere, capturing every smile, every shy glance, and the quiet joy that radiated between you. fans couldn’t stop gushing over how sweet it was to see heeseung stepping out of his comfort zone, all because of you.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. a/n: did y'all see this damn video? that's what has been playing in my head throughout the weekend. wdym he's that kind of boyfriend?? ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[fgumi]

ꕥ soft songs; — taesan drabble, wc: 752, genre: fluff

taesan sat at his piano, fingers dancing across the keys as a soft melody filled his room. the warm glow of his desk lamp cast gentle shadows, making the space feel cozier than usual. his live stream had taken on a different vibe tonight—one that was softer, lighter, with each song carrying hints of warmth and unspoken feelings. gone were the angsty tunes his fans were used to. instead, the air was filled with melodies that felt like love letters set to music.

fans were quick to notice.

“taesan, who’s inspiring these songs? 👀” “is our boy in love? these are all love songs!” “your smile is different today. are you thinking of someone?”

taesan’s hands faltered briefly on the keys, the blush on his cheeks unmistakable even in the dim lighting. he didn’t address the teasing directly, but his shy smile and the way he tried to hide behind his piano spoke volumes. desperate for a distraction, he picked a comment asking him to play his newest piece, and with a shy nod, he started to play.

the room filled with a soft, romantic tune, each note carefully chosen, echoing the quiet tenderness that had been bubbling inside him for weeks. it was a song about the little moments—glances that lingered, smiles that warmed the soul, and unspoken words that hung in the air. as he played, taesan’s expression softened, lost in the music as if each note was meant for someone special.

then, a gentle knock interrupted, and taesan glanced up, startled. the fans couldn’t see, but just out of frame, you poked your head inside, immediately noticing the live stream. your eyes widened, and you mouthed a quick, silent apology. taesan’s smile faltered, replaced by a mix of surprise and nervousness as he glanced back at the camera. “uh, i’ll be right back,” he mumbled, standing up from the piano and stepping out of view.

outside, you handed him a small bag, your smile bright and cheerful. “jaehyun told me you hadn’t eaten yet,” you said, your voice warm. “i was going to get us food from this new place i wanted to try, but i thought it’d be more fun if we went together, you know?”

taesan’s heart did a little flip at your words, and without thinking, he blurted out, “so, it’s a date, then?” the words slipped out before he could stop them. you both blinked in surprise, eyes wide as the weight of what he’d just said settled between you.

taesan’s face turned beet red, and he fumbled to cover his tracks. “i—i mean, thanks for this,” he stammered, clutching the bag tightly. he rushed back into his room, too flustered to linger a second longer.

the chat exploded with curiosity the moment he returned.

“what was that?!” “taesan, you look like a tomato!” “who are you grinning for??"

taesan laughed nervously, trying to play it off as he set the food on the table. “sorry, guys. just jaehyun dropping off some food,” he lied, hoping it would quell the fans’ curiosity. as he reached inside the bag, his fingers brushed against a small note, folded neatly at the bottom.

he hesitated, unfolding the paper with cautious fingers. his eyes widened as he read the familiar handwriting:

“i’ve liked you for a while now. i wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud, but i will be soon. 💕”

taesan’s breath hitched, the note sending his heart into overdrive. a shy smile tugged at his lips, his cheeks heating up all over again. he glanced at the camera, but the note was still just out of view, escaping the fans’ watchful eyes. he folded it quickly, tucking it away with a small, sheepish laugh.

“just jaehyun messing around as usual,” he said, hoping the excuse would fly. he returned to the piano, his mind still swirling with your confession. as he played the next song, every note felt different—softer, sweeter, carrying the weight of emotions he hadn’t quite gathered the courage to voice yet.

he finished the song with a lingering smile, his fingers resting gently on the keys. the fans continued to tease and prod, but taesan didn’t mind. for the rest of the live, he played one soft love song after another, each melody a quiet, unspoken promise, a secret shared only with the one person who knew the truth behind the music.

and as the live drew on, taesan’s smile never faded. he was happy, and for tonight, that was more than enough.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. a/n: i want them to be in love so bad... can you imagine with boynextdoor's producer line? how cute their love songs would be? i know we have "but i like you" and "serenade", but something like keshi's "soft spot"? it'd be over for me. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[fgumi]

𝟏𝟗.𝟗𝟗; chapter one

*:･ﾟ✧ synopsis: seoin yang finds herself trapped in a brutal, war-torn reality where she struggles to fit in among the superhuman trainees at the hybe facility. as she grows closer to boynextdoor and faces the unsettling truth about her powers, a dream encounter with her alternate self.

*:･ﾟ✧ pairing(s): boynextdoor x original female character *:･ﾟ✧ genre: sci-fi, coming of age *:･ﾟ✧ a/n: i locked in using the pomodoro method. i definitely like the flow better this time around. *:･ﾟ✧ word count: 8.4k *:･ﾟ✧ 19.99 mlist

Seoin woke abruptly, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights that beat down from the ceiling. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but exhaustion had pulled her under without warning. Her neck ached from the awkward angle, and as she sat up, the cold metal cot beneath her offered no comfort.

She took in her surroundings: the blank white walls, the sparse, sterile room, and the ever-present security camera blinking in the corner. It all felt clinical and distant, as if every part of this place was designed to strip away any sense of comfort. Seoin rubbed her eyes, willing herself to focus.

The door to her cell opened with a grating creak. A guard, face obscured by a helmet, gestured for her to follow. Seoin hesitated but knew she had no choice. Rising slowly, she stepped into the corridor, where more guards flanked her, their presence a silent but constant reminder of her captivity.

The hallway stretched long and empty, the overhead lights reflecting off the glossy floors. Seoin’s steps were unsteady as she followed the guards through a maze of identical corridors, catching glimpses of rooms filled with advanced medical equipment and trainees moving in sync. Everything about this place felt tightly controlled, as if each movement had been rehearsed a thousand times.

They finally stopped in front of a glass-walled room filled with buzzing monitors and medical devices. Officials and technicians were already inside, their attention focused on data streaming across screens. Seoin was ushered into a chair, surrounded by machinery that hummed and beeped, and the air was thick with the scent of antiseptic.

The lead official, a woman with sharp features and a tablet in hand, approached. She looked Seoin over, her expression a mix of frustration and scrutiny. “Seoin,” she said, her tone sharp, “you’ve been missing for weeks. We need to know what happened.”

Seoin shifted uncomfortably, struggling to find the right words. “I wasn’t missing,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended. “I was at home, and then I was… here. I don’t understand.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she exchanged a look with the others, their skepticism palpable. “Home? You expect us to believe that? People don’t just vanish from classified missions. You’re either lying, or something went wrong.”

Seoin’s grip tightened on the armrests. “I’m not lying,” she insisted, but the officials continued their whispered discussions, their distrust clear. They spoke about her as if she were a problem to be solved, not a person sitting right in front of them.

“Run the assessments,” the lead official ordered. “We need to know if this amnesia is real or if she’s withholding information.”

The next hour passed in a blur of tests—scans, questions, and constant evaluations. Seoin tried to keep up, but the barrage of instructions and flashing images was overwhelming. The technicians worked quickly and without explanation, moving around her as if she were nothing more than another task on their list.

The tests ended, and Seoin was escorted back down the hallways, her thoughts swirling with confusion and fatigue. She was deposited in a waiting area just outside the glass-walled room, her vision still blurry from the barrage of lights and screens. The guards stood nearby, their presence a constant reminder that there was no escape, but Seoin barely noticed them. Her mind was stuck on the cold efficiency of the tests and the whispered conversations she couldn’t quite catch.

Inside the room, the officials gathered around the lead scientist, reviewing the results on the screens that had been hooked up to Seoin just moments ago. Data streamed across the monitors, displaying brain scans, vitals, and other assessments, all forming a detailed but complex picture that none of them could fully comprehend.

“She doesn’t remember anything,” one of the technicians said, flipping through the pages of his report. “No clear signs of deception, but it’s hard to say if it’s genuine amnesia or something else. The scans are inconclusive.”

The lead official—a woman whose sharp, no-nonsense demeanor had grown only more severe—leaned against the table, her fingers tapping restlessly on her tablet. “And her powers?” she asked, cutting through the murmur of voices. “Any indication of impairment?”

Another official, a stern-looking man with graying hair, adjusted his glasses and shook his head. “No signs of degradation. If anything, her abilities appear to be stable, maybe even stronger than before. We can’t afford to lose her, not when her potential is this high.”

The woman frowned, scrolling through the data on her screen. “But she doesn’t remember how to use them,” she said, her voice edged with frustration. “She’s more liability than asset right now. If she can’t control her powers, we could be looking at a bigger problem than her just being missing.”

A third official, younger and with a calculating expression, spoke up, his tone more measured. “We need to bring her back into the program. Her abilities are too valuable to lose. Even without her memory, she’s one of our most successful subjects. We’ve invested too much to let this slip away.”

The lead official considered this, her eyes fixed on the screens as data continued to scroll past. The room was tense, the decision hanging heavily in the air. HYBE didn’t tolerate failures, but it also didn’t waste resources—especially not when those resources held the kind of power Seoin did.

“Re-assimilate her,” the lead official said finally, her voice carrying the weight of the decision. “We’ll retrain her from the ground up if we have to. Use whatever means necessary to get her back to full capacity. We can’t afford to lose her powers, not with how much we stand to lose if we don’t complete our initiative.”

The other officials nodded, some reluctantly, others with a sense of grim determination. There was no room for argument; the decision had been made. Seoin would be brought back into the fold, whether she remembered her place or not. HYBE had its hands on her, and they weren’t going to let go.

“Start reconditioning immediately,” the lead official ordered. “We’ll monitor her closely. If her memory starts to return, we need to know exactly what she remembers—and what she doesn’t.”

Outside the room, Seoin sat on the edge of her seat, unaware of the conversation unfolding just a few feet away. She watched the guards out of the corner of her eye, trying to keep her nerves under control. She didn’t know what was coming next, but the cold, calculating stares of the officials inside told her that whatever it was, it wouldn’t be up to her.

The decision was made. Seoin would be re-assimilated, her potential too valuable for HYBE to lose. And though she couldn’t yet see the path that lay ahead, the wheels were already in motion, pulling her deeper into a world that demanded more from her than she’d ever imagined.

Seoin was led down yet another hallway, her thoughts still tangled from the endless tests and the officials’ piercing questions. She was trying to hold onto the fragments of her own memories, but every step forward felt like another piece slipping away. There was no time to process, no chance to catch her breath. She was pushed from one moment to the next, each more unsettling than the last.

The guards brought her to a new section of the facility, where the white noise of machinery was replaced by the sharper sounds of voices, commands, and the rhythmic impact of fists against punching bags. Seoin’s heart sank as she realized this was no ordinary training area. It was a battlefield simulation, complete with obstacle courses, combat drills, and equipment that looked more suited for soldiers than trainees.

A stern-looking trainer, tall and broad-shouldered with a clipboard in hand, stepped forward. He barely glanced at Seoin, his focus already on the trainees spread throughout the room. “You’ll start with basic drills,” he said brusquely, as if her reappearance meant nothing more than a minor inconvenience in his schedule. “Follow the routines. No exceptions.”

Seoin nodded, though she wasn’t sure if he even saw. She was ushered toward the back of the room, where a line of trainees was going through an obstacle course. They moved with precision, vaulting over barriers, crawling under barbed wire, and scaling walls with practiced ease. It was clear they’d been through this routine many times before.

Seoin hesitated at the edge of the course, feeling the weight of the eyes around her. She didn’t know where to start, didn’t know the rules of this new game, but the trainer’s voice cut through her uncertainty. “Move!” he barked, and Seoin found herself sprinting forward, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.

She stumbled through the first few obstacles, her movements clumsy and uncoordinated compared to the fluid motions of the other trainees. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she pushed herself to keep up, but it was clear she was out of sync. She wasn’t just physically outmatched; she was mentally unprepared for the sheer intensity of the drills.

As she crawled under a low-hanging net, the ropes digging into her back, Seoin’s gaze drifted to the far side of the room, where a group of four boys stood apart from the rest. They were different from the other trainees, moving with a quiet confidence that marked them as something distinct. Each boy was focused, their presence almost magnetic, drawing attention without trying.

The tallest among them, with dark, sharp eyes, watched the drills with a cold, calculating gaze. His stance was rigid, and though he appeared calm, there was a tension in his posture, like he was always ready to spring into action. Beside him, a boy with tousled hair and an unreadable expression leaned casually against the wall, his eyes flicking between the trainees as if assessing each one’s worth.

A third boy stood slightly behind the others, his softer features set in a wary expression. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his attention constantly moving, like he couldn’t afford to let his guard down for even a second. The last boy, who looked the youngest, had a gentleness in his eyes that seemed out of place in such a harsh environment, but the way he stayed close to his group suggested he was anything but weak.

They didn’t train with the others. Instead, they stood as a unit, their silent observations making them seem both a part of the facility and separate from it. They exchanged the occasional glance, communicating without words, their movements synchronized even when they were standing still.

Seoin couldn’t help but watch them, feeling an odd pull toward the group. They were clearly important, different, and in a place like this, that kind of distinction wasn’t easily earned. There was something about the way they carried themselves that spoke of experience and a shared understanding, an invisible line that set them apart from everyone else in the room.

She pulled herself over the final obstacle, landing awkwardly on the other side. Her palms stung from the rough surface, and her muscles ached in protest. She looked around, searching for any sign of acknowledgment, but the other trainees were already moving on, their focus never wavering. There was no room for mistakes here—no patience for those who couldn’t keep up.

“Faster,” the trainer snapped, his tone devoid of sympathy. “You don’t have time to fall behind.”

Seoin forced herself back into motion, her body screaming in protest as she pushed through the drills. She didn’t know what she was training for, didn’t understand the purpose behind the relentless pace, but she knew that stopping wasn’t an option. Not here. Not when every misstep felt like another mark against her.

As she moved through the exercises, Seoin’s gaze kept drifting back to the boys. They were cohesive, each movement precise and purposeful, as if they had been doing this for years. The air around them was different, heavier, and Seoin could sense that they weren’t just trainees—they were something more, something valuable to HYBE in a way that no one else seemed to be.

The boys didn’t approach her, and she didn’t dare move closer. She could feel their subtle glances, but they made no effort to engage. Seoin stood alone, trying to make sense of the controlled chaos around her. Each movement, each interaction felt heavy with unspoken rules, and she was painfully aware of how out of place she was.

The drills blurred together into a punishing rhythm of commands and movements. Seoin forced her body through each exercise, her muscles burning with every push, pull, and sprint. The other trainees moved like clockwork, their motions precise and unhesitating, while Seoin fought to keep pace, tripping over her own feet as exhaustion took its toll. She felt the trainer’s eyes on her every misstep, each stumble met with an impatient glare that only fueled her anxiety.

Seoin’s hands trembled as she gripped the edge of a climbing wall, struggling to pull herself over the top. Her fingers ached, and sweat dripped into her eyes, blurring her vision, but she kept going, driven by the urgent need to prove that she could. There was no applause, no encouragement—only the cold indifference of a place that demanded perfection at every turn.

She dropped to the ground on the other side, landing awkwardly on her knees. Pain shot up her legs, and she bit back a gasp, forcing herself to stand. Her breath came in ragged bursts, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to steady herself. Around her, the other trainees continued without missing a beat, their focus unwavering.

Seoin’s gaze flickered back to the group of boys she’d been watching earlier. They were still observing, standing apart from the rest, their expressions unchanging. The tallest boy’s eyes were fixed on the drills, his gaze following the movements with a detached intensity that made Seoin feel as if she were being evaluated. The others stood close, their presence a quiet but powerful reminder of the hierarchy that existed within these walls.

A whistle blew, signaling the end of the drill. The trainees fell into lines, their postures straight and attentive, waiting for the next command. Seoin stumbled into place at the back, her legs shaking with fatigue. She was painfully aware of how out of sync she was, how every movement felt just a fraction too slow, too clumsy. She could feel the trainer’s disappointment, the unspoken judgment hanging in the air.

“You’re all expected to be at peak performance,” the trainer barked, his voice echoing across the room. “No exceptions. No excuses. If you fall behind, you put everyone at risk. And I don’t have time for liabilities.”

His words stung, each one landing like a blow. Seoin stared at the ground, willing herself to stay upright. She knew she wasn’t keeping up, that she was failing the unspoken test that everyone else seemed to pass without effort. But she couldn’t afford to show weakness, not when every eye in the room felt like it was waiting for her to slip.

As the trainees broke off into smaller groups for combat simulations, Seoin found herself pushed toward a station at the far end of the hall. A row of training dummies stood in front of her, each one marked with faded scars from countless impacts. The task was simple: hit the target, again and again, until you couldn’t anymore.

Seoin clenched her fists, feeling the sting of raw skin against her knuckles. She threw a punch, the impact jarring up her arm, and immediately followed with another. Each strike was clumsy, fueled by frustration more than skill, but she kept going, her breaths coming in sharp bursts as she tried to drown out everything else. The pain in her hands was a welcome distraction from the gnawing sense of inadequacy that had been building since she arrived.

She lost track of time, lost in the rhythm of hitting and retreating, until the sound of footsteps broke through her focus. Seoin glanced up, her gaze meeting the tall boy’s eyes from across the room. He stood with his arms crossed, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and something else—something that Seoin couldn’t quite place.

He didn’t speak, and neither did she. The moment stretched between them, silent and charged, before he turned back to his group, his expression unreadable. Seoin watched as he rejoined the others, their movements fluid and synchronized, every gesture a reflection of their unity. They were a team, something Seoin wasn’t a part of, and the gap between them felt impossibly wide.

Seoin resumed her practice, her strikes becoming more forceful, each hit an outlet for the anger and confusion roiling inside her. She didn’t know what HYBE expected of her, didn’t understand why she was being pushed so hard, but she knew she couldn’t afford to fall behind. Not when failure meant losing whatever tenuous grip she still had on this place.

The session dragged on, and by the end, Seoin’s arms hung heavy at her sides, her knuckles bruised and raw. She leaned against the wall, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps, as the other trainees finished their drills and began to disperse. The room was quieter now, the relentless pace finally easing, but Seoin’s mind was still racing.

She glanced toward the boys one last time, catching a brief glimpse of their tight-knit formation before they disappeared into the crowd. They were a mystery—one that Seoin was determined to understand. But for now, she was alone, trapped in a place that expected everything and gave nothing in return.

As Seoin made her way back to her cell, escorted by the silent, ever-present guards, she knew that today was only the beginning. The facility’s demands were unrelenting, and there would be no room for hesitation. If she was going to survive, she would have to learn to adapt, to push past the fear and exhaustion, and to find her place in a world that felt increasingly out of her control.

The door to her cell closed behind her with a heavy clang, and Seoin sank onto the cot, her body aching from the day’s ordeal. She stared at the ceiling, the harsh fluorescent lights still burning overhead, and wondered what it would take to meet HYBE’s impossible standards. The path ahead was uncertain, but Seoin knew one thing for sure: she couldn’t afford to break. Not now. Not when everything depended on her ability to endure.

✧✧✧

It had been a week since Seoin first arrived at the facility, and the days had blurred into a relentless cycle of drills, tests, and grueling simulations. She had quickly learned that HYBE expected nothing less than perfection from its trainees, and every mistake was met with impatience or a cold reprimand. Seoin’s body was constantly sore, her muscles aching from the punishing regimen, but she forced herself to keep up, determined not to fall behind.

By now, the routines had become familiar, but the intensity never waned. Each day was a battle to prove she could keep pace, and though she still felt like an outsider, Seoin was slowly finding her footing. She had learned to watch, to observe the unspoken rules of the facility, and to anticipate the trainer’s commands before they were shouted across the room. But despite her efforts, there was always a sense of being on the edge, one misstep away from being left behind.

Today, Seoin noticed something different as the trainees were called into the training hall: Woonhak—she had learned his and the others’ names through the whispers of other trainees—was missing. The absence was subtle, but it created a gap in their formation. Seoin caught glimpses of their guarded expressions—fleeting moments of tension and quiet concern that hinted at a disruption beneath their calm exteriors.

Taesan, who usually moved with unflinching precision, seemed slightly off, his focus sharper but tinged with a restlessness that wasn’t there before. The group exchanged few words, their interactions clipped and restrained, as if they were all keenly aware of the missing piece in their tightly knit unit.

Midway through the day, the trainees were called into a large, open room lined with training stations and simulation equipment. The walls were covered in screens displaying complex data, and a series of holographic projectors flickered to life, creating a virtual combat environment that was both immersive and disorienting.

The trainer’s voice cut through the chatter. “Pair up. Today’s simulation requires a partner. You’ll need to work together to complete the objectives. Failure is not an option.”

Seoin looked around, her eyes scanning the room for a familiar face, but the other trainees had already begun pairing off, gravitating toward those they knew and trusted. Seoin felt a pang of uncertainty, realizing she was once again on her own, when she caught sight of Taesan standing nearby, seemingly without a partner—a clear sign of Woonhak’s absence.

He was observing the setup with his usual detached expression, but when he noticed Seoin’s gaze, his eyes flicked to her briefly, assessing. There was no sign of irritation, just a cool, measured look that made it clear he was weighing his options.

Seoin hesitated, but with no other choice, she approached him cautiously. “I—uh—don’t have a partner,” she said, her voice faltering slightly under his scrutiny. “Would you mind if we—?”

Taesan didn’t respond immediately. He glanced around the room, as if considering a better alternative, but then nodded once, curtly. “Fine,” he said simply, his tone neutral. It wasn’t an enthusiastic acceptance, but it was better than being left behind.

The simulation began with a flash of light, and suddenly, the room was transformed into a virtual battlefield. The scenario was complex, with moving targets and shifting obstacles that required quick reflexes and strategic thinking. Taesan took the lead, his movements precise and controlled as he navigated the environment. Seoin struggled to keep up, following his commands as best as she could.

“Stay low,” Taesan ordered, his voice calm but firm. “Watch your flank.”

Seoin ducked behind cover, just as a holographic enemy appeared, and she narrowly avoided a simulated hit. Taesan dispatched the target with efficient ease, barely breaking stride as he moved to the next objective. There was no hesitation in his actions, no wasted effort. He moved like someone who had done this a hundred times before.

Seoin did her best to match his pace, but her inexperience showed. She fumbled with the controls, nearly missing a key shot, and she could feel Taesan’s eyes on her, assessing every mistake. There was no open criticism, but Seoin could sense his frustration in the tight set of his jaw and the brief, sharp glances he threw her way.

“Keep your guard up,” Taesan said, his tone clipped. “We’re not here to lose.”

Seoin nodded, swallowing her nerves as she focused on the next set of targets. Taesan’s words were blunt, but there was no malice behind them—only the expectation that she would rise to the challenge. He didn’t coddle, didn’t waste time with encouragement; he simply expected her to do better, and in a strange way, that drove Seoin to push herself harder.

By the time the simulation ended, Seoin was drenched in sweat, her muscles burning from the exertion. Taesan finished the last objective with a calculated strike, and the virtual environment dissolved back into the empty training hall. Seoin took a moment to catch her breath, glancing at Taesan, who stood with his usual composed demeanor, his expression unreadable.

“Not bad,” he said finally, his voice neutral but lacking the sharpness from before. “You kept up.”

It wasn’t praise, exactly, but Seoin took it as a small victory. She nodded, unsure of what to say, but before she could respond, the trainer called for the end of the exercise, signaling that it was time for lunch.

The trainees filed into the mess hall, a spacious but utilitarian room lined with long tables and benches. Seoin collected her tray, the food bland and unremarkable, and scanned the room for a place to sit. Most of the trainees had already clustered into their usual groups, their conversations low and guarded. Seoin was about to find a quiet corner when she saw Taesan and the three other boys from his group seated at a table near the back, Woonhak among them now, looking worse for wear.

Woonhak’s usual bright demeanor was noticeably dimmed; he sat slumped slightly, his shoulders tense, and his eyes downcast. There was a faint pallor to his complexion, and he picked at his food without much interest, barely taking a bite. The other boys surrounded him, their quiet vigilance palpable as they subtly shifted their focus to him without making it obvious.

Seoin hesitated, uncertain whether she was welcome, but Taesan’s brief nod toward the empty space beside him was enough of an invitation. She approached cautiously, setting her tray down and taking a seat. The boys barely looked up, continuing their quiet conversation, but Seoin felt the weight of their presence and the unspoken concern that lingered between them.

As Seoin took her seat, she noticed the small, almost imperceptible ways the others were looking after Woonhak. The boy with the tousled hair pushed his bread toward Woonhak’s tray without comment, nudging it closer when Woonhak didn’t immediately react. Taesan passed him his own drink, a wordless gesture of care that Woonhak accepted with a quiet nod of thanks. The boy with the calm demeanor shifted slightly closer, his posture subtly shielding Woonhak from the curious glances of the other trainees.

Woonhak took a slow sip, his movements deliberate, as if every action required more effort than it should. The youngest boy glanced at him frequently, his brow furrowed in a way that suggested a mix of worry and frustration, but he didn’t push. Instead, he offered a small piece of his own food, setting it on Woonhak’s tray with a gentle nudge.

Seoin picked at her food, unsure of how to insert herself into the scene unfolding before her. The boys’ quiet support of Woonhak was understated but undeniable, a stark contrast to the harsh, competitive atmosphere of the facility.

The quiet stretched, and Seoin decided to break it. “Thanks for partnering with me today,” she said, directing her words toward Taesan but aware that the others were listening. “I know I’m not… I mean, I’m still learning.”

Taesan glanced at her, his expression inscrutable. “It’s fine,” he replied simply, but his tone held no judgment. “You kept up. That’s more than most.”

The boy with the tousled hair smirked slightly, his gaze shifting to Seoin. “Not many can keep pace with him on their first try,” he remarked, the faintest hint of a challenge in his voice. “You must be tougher than you look.”

Seoin wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a subtle test, but she nodded, meeting his eyes with a flicker of determination. “I’m trying.”

Woonhak, who had been quiet until now, glanced up briefly, his eyes meeting Seoin’s. He offered a faint smile, tired but genuine, before returning his attention to his tray. The youngest boy offered a small, encouraging smile, his posture relaxing slightly. “It gets easier,” he said quietly. “You just have to keep at it.”

The dynamic between the boys was clear: they were more than just a team. They were protective of each other in a way that went beyond the facility’s demands, and Woonhak’s return, bruised but not broken, only underscored their bond. Seoin felt a strange mix of relief and unease. The interaction was brief, stilted, but it was a start—an opening into the closed-off world of these boys who seemed so untouchable.

✧✧✧

The days at the facility were grueling, but Seoin found herself gradually drawn closer to the group of boys who had, against the odds, welcomed her into their tight-knit circle. Despite their reserved nature, each day brought small moments that chipped away at the wall between them—shared meals, quiet conversations, and the subtle ways they supported each other during training. Seoin was beginning to feel a sense of belonging, though a part of her still couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider.

It was during one of these mornings, just after the usual drills, that Seoin noticed a shift in the atmosphere. The trainees were ushered into a different training hall, one she hadn’t seen before. It was darker, with dim lighting that cast long shadows across the walls, and the air felt charged with a strange energy. Seoin’s nerves prickled with anticipation, sensing that today’s session would be different.

The lead trainer, flanked by several officials, stood at the front of the room, his expression stern as he addressed the group. “Today, we’re testing a specialized skill set,” he announced, his gaze sweeping over the trainees. “This isn’t about speed or strength. It’s about control. Mastery of your individual abilities.”

Seoin’s heart skipped a beat. She knew that many of the trainees had been enhanced, given powers that set them apart from ordinary soldiers. She had seen glimpses—quick reflexes, unnatural strength—but nothing that fully showed what they were truly capable of. Today, it seemed, she would finally see those abilities in action.

The trainees were divided into small groups, each directed to a different part of the hall. Seoin found herself with Boynextdoor again, feeling a familiar mix of anxiety and curiosity. Taesan led the way, his usual reserved demeanor intact, while Leehan, Riwoo, and Woonhak followed in their practiced formation, each exuding a quiet confidence. Seoin had grown accustomed to their dynamic and she felt a strange comfort being near them.

The trainer activated a series of targets and obstacles, more advanced than the ones Seoin had seen before. They moved unpredictably, their patterns erratic, and the room buzzed with a low, electric hum. It was clear this wasn’t a simple combat simulation; it was designed to push their powers to the limit.

Riwoo was the first to step forward. His sharp eyes locked onto the targets, and with a flick of his wrist, the light seemed to bend around him, manipulating the space between himself and the obstacles. The targets wavered as if caught in a heat mirage, their paths shifting unpredictably. Seoin realized Riwoo was controlling the light itself, using it to distort perception and mislead his opponents, making it nearly impossible to predict where a hit would land.

Leehan followed, usually calm and collected, his power was a stark contrast to his composed demeanor. As the targets moved, Leehan’s focus intensified, and suddenly, they slowed—almost as if the air had thickened around them. Seoin could see the strain on his face as he manipulated time, pulling the moments around him like threads and stretching them to his advantage. It wasn’t just control; it was the power to bend time itself, making his movements seem almost premeditated.

Taesan was next, his steps measured and deliberate. The targets sped up, moving erratically as if testing his limits, but Taesan’s movements remained smooth, calculated. He dodged effortlessly, every motion precise, as though he could see the trajectory of each target before it moved. Seoin understood now—Taesan’s power wasn’t just instinct or training. It was precognition, the ability to foresee the immediate future and react before anyone else could.

Woonhak, the youngest and often most guarded of the group, stepped forward with a quiet determination. As the targets advanced, Woonhak’s posture straightened, and his eyes hardened. He didn’t move to strike. Instead, he spoke a single command: “Stop.” The targets obeyed instantly, freezing in place as if Woonhak’s voice alone had the power to command them. His power was undeniable—persuasion at its most dangerous, the ability to compel anything to obey his will.

Seoin watched in awe as each of the boys demonstrated their powers. It was an impressive display of control, precision, and sheer will. But as the trainer turned to her, Seoin felt her confidence waver. She still didn’t know what her power was, let alone how to use it. The trainer gestured for her to step forward, and Seoin’s heart pounded in her chest.

“Your turn,” the trainer said, his tone expectant. “Show us what you’ve got.”

Seoin took a deep breath and focused on the target ahead. She tried to summon something—anything—that would reveal her abilities. She closed her eyes, willing herself to feel the power that she knew was somewhere within her. But as she reached out, there was nothing. No surge of energy, no flash of insight. Just silence.

She opened her eyes, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as the target remained unmoved. The trainer’s expression tightened, his disappointment evident. “Try again,” he barked, his frustration barely contained. Seoin nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she tried once more, but the outcome was the same. She was met with empty air and the cold realization that whatever power she was supposed to have, it was still beyond her reach.

The other boys watched, their expressions shifting from supportive to confused. Taesan’s brow furrowed slightly, and Leehan exchanged a glance with Riwoo, each clearly perplexed by Seoin’s inability to manifest anything. Woonhak, usually the most reserved, looked genuinely concerned.

The trainer sighed, rubbing his temples as if trying to find the patience to deal with yet another setback. “She’s not ready,” he said finally, turning to the officials. “Her powers are still dormant. We’ll need more training—more time. We can’t rush this.”

The boys exchanged looks, uncertainty rippling through them. Taesan stepped closer to Seoin, his voice low and directed at her but loud enough for the others to hear. “Did you… already go through enhancement?” he asked, a hint of confusion lacing his tone.

Seoin shrugged, feeling the weight of their expectations and her own growing frustration. “I don’t… I don’t remember,” she admitted, feeling small under their scrutiny. The boys’ expressions tightened, their confusion deepening at her response. It was as if Seoin’s presence here made less sense now than ever.

Riwoo glanced between Seoin and the trainer, his brow furrowing. “What does he mean by ‘dormant’? Are your powers blocked or something?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

Seoin could only shake her head. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t remember.”

Leehan looked over at the trainer, who was now speaking in hushed tones with the officials, and whispered, “They’re not saying something.”

Woonhak nodded, still visibly drained but alert enough to sense the tension. “Maybe you’re just… different,” he offered quietly, though it was clear even he didn’t fully understand what that meant.

The uncertainty lingered between them, a mix of frustration, concern, and the gnawing mystery of Seoin’s abilities—or lack thereof. Though the boys tried to reassure her, their own doubts were evident, each grappling with the unknown in their own way.

The session ended with no answers, only more questions. As the group made their way out of the hall, Seoin could feel the boys’ lingering confusion. Taesan gave her a reassuring nod, and Leehan offered a quiet, “It’ll come. Just give it time.”

After the training session, the trainees were dismissed, given a rare sliver of free time before the next round of drills. Seoin followed the boys to a quieter corner of the facility, away from the constant buzz of activity. The air was still, but for once, it felt less like a prison and more like a brief reprieve from the unrelenting demands of HYBE.

They settled on a set of worn benches, tucked into a shadowy alcove near one of the observation windows that overlooked the facility grounds. Seoin sat with her back against the wall, watching as the boys fell into their usual quiet camaraderie. Taesan leaned back, eyes closed as if lost in thought, while Leehan and Riwoo spoke in hushed tones, their conversation easy and familiar. Woonhak, still visibly tired, rested with his head down, his gaze distant but occasionally flickering back to Seoin.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn toward the events of training. Riwoo, ever observant, broke the comfortable silence with a question that had clearly been on their minds. “So… what happened back there?” he asked, his voice gentle but direct. “When you said you don’t remember. What did you mean?”

Seoin hesitated, feeling the weight of their expectant gazes. She hadn’t fully explained her situation to them, not the way she should have. And now, with the opportunity laid bare, she found herself torn between the truth she knew and the one HYBE believed. The boys were watching her with a mix of concern and curiosity, their expressions open but tinged with caution.

“I…” Seoin began, struggling to find the right words. She glanced at each of them, feeling the quiet support they offered but also the pressure to answer. She could tell them everything—the confusion, the sudden shift from her world to this one—but it felt too raw, too strange to lay out all at once. Instead, she chose the path that HYBE had set for her, the truth they knew.

“They said I’ve been missing,” Seoin finally said, her voice steadying as she leaned into the story she had been told. “HYBE thinks I was lost in battle, but… I don’t remember any of it. I woke up here with no memory of what happened. They said my powers are dormant because of it. That’s all I know.”

The boys exchanged glances, processing her words. Leehan frowned, his eyes narrowing as if trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. “Missing in battle? That doesn’t make sense. HYBE keeps tabs on everyone.”

Riwoo nodded, his fingers drumming lightly against the bench in a rhythmic, absent-minded motion. “They don’t lose people. Not like that. If you were gone, they’d have found you sooner.”

Taesan’s expression remained calm, but his brow furrowed slightly as he considered her explanation. “And they never said how you went missing? What you were doing before?”

Seoin shook her head, the uncertainty she had felt since her arrival bubbling up again. “They didn’t tell me much. Just that I was part of something classified, and then… nothing. It’s like that part of my memory is just gone.”

Woonhak looked up, his eyes soft with empathy. “That’s… messed up. They put you back in without any answers? And they expect you to just… pick up where you left off?”

Seoin nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt. She was telling them what she knew, but it was only a piece of the larger, more complicated truth. HYBE’s story gave her a place in this world, but it didn’t account for the way she felt—the way everything around her seemed just a little bit off, like she was a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

“They think my powers will come back eventually,” Seoin added, her voice quiet. “But I don’t know how long that will take. Or if it even will.”

The boys listened intently, absorbing every word. Their confusion hadn’t been entirely eased, but they seemed to accept what Seoin told them, though Taesan’s expression remained thoughtful, as if he was still turning her words over in his mind. He gave a slow nod, almost to himself, before speaking.

“We’ll figure it out,” Taesan said, his tone reassuring but laced with determination. “Whatever’s going on, we’ve dealt with worse. We’ll help you, Seoin.”

Leehan and Riwoo nodded in agreement, their support unspoken but clear. Woonhak offered Seoin a faint smile, his expression softening despite the exhaustion still lingering in his eyes. “You’re with us now,” he said simply. “We’ve got your back.”

Seoin looked around at the boys, feeling a surge of gratitude that she couldn’t quite put into words. She was still an outsider, still grappling with the unknown, but for the first time, she didn’t feel entirely alone. The boys didn’t have all the answers, but they were willing to stand by her, and in this strange, unpredictable world, that was more than enough.

After returning to her room, Seoin drifted into an uneasy sleep, exhaustion finally pulling her under after a long day of training and unanswered questions. Her mind swirled with fragmented images—the faces of the boys, the targets she couldn’t hit, and the disorienting sense of not belonging. The darkness around her seemed endless, but slowly, shapes began to form, pulling her deeper into a place that felt both familiar and foreign.

She found herself standing in a vast, open field. The sky above was a muted gray, and the air was thick with a strange, heavy stillness that pressed down on her chest. In the distance, she saw the outline of a figure, partially obscured by the fog that clung to the ground like a shroud. As Seoin stepped closer, the figure came into focus, and her breath caught in her throat.

It was herself—or rather, a version of herself. The girl before her was identical in every way: the same eyes, the same posture, but there was an undeniable weight in her expression that Seoin had never seen in her own reflection. This wasn’t just a mirror image; this was her, the version of Seoin who belonged to this war-torn world.

Her own eyes looked at her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. There was a heaviness between them, a shared understanding that transcended words. The other Seoin’s gaze was filled with a mixture of regret and determination, her shoulders hunched as if carrying an invisible burden that she could no longer bear.

“You’re finally here,” other Seoin said, her voice tinged with exhaustion and something else—relief, perhaps, or desperation. “I was wondering when we’d finally meet like this.”

Seoin swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. She had so many questions, but in the face of this mirrored reality, the words felt stuck in her throat. “Where are we?” Seoin asked instead, glancing around at the empty, desolate landscape.

“This place isn’t real,” other Seoin replied, gesturing to the sky and the ground that seemed to blur and fade at the edges. “It’s a dream—a space between us. It’s the only way I can reach you now.”

Seoin took a step closer, studying her face. There was something haunted in her eyes, a shadow of guilt that Seoin couldn’t ignore. “You’re… me,” Seoin said quietly, the truth settling over her like a heavy cloak. “Or I’m you.”

She nodded, her expression tightening. “We’re the same, but different. I’m the version of you from this reality. I’ve been fighting in this war for years, doing things I’m not proud of.” She paused, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I made mistakes. I thought I was helping, but I was wrong. And now… now it’s too late for me.”

Seoin felt a chill run through her. “What do you mean? What did you do, Seoin?” She hesitated, feeling awkward saying her own name in such a strange context. “Uh, Seoin… I mean, I know it’s your name but also my name… This is confusing.”

Her mirror self let out a small, amused snort, the first break in her otherwise somber demeanor. “Yeah, this is weird, isn’t it?” She rubbed her temples, shaking her head with a wry smile. “Okay, this is going to be a mess if we keep calling each other Seoin. Just… call me Zeoin, alright? It’s a nickname I went by once anyway, and it’ll help avoid this whole ‘talking to myself’ situation.”

Seoin blinked, slightly taken aback by the unexpected humor. “Zeoin, huh? Alright, I can work with that.”

“Great,” Zeoin said, her smile fading as she got back to the matter at hand. “Now, where was I? Right. I made mistakes—bad ones. I thought I was making a difference in the war, but I was wrong. And now… it’s too late for me to fix it.”

Seoin’s brow furrowed. “But why? Why can’t you fix it yourself? Why am I even here?”

Zeoin’s expression darkened as she took a step closer, her presence almost tangible despite the dreamlike setting. “When I used my powers to try and fix what I’d done, something went wrong. Our consciousnesses blended instead of just letting me go back. So, I thought I could guide you, help you correct what I couldn’t.”

Seoin’s mind reeled, trying to grasp the implications of Zeoin’s words. “Why didn’t it work? What happened?”

Zeoin hesitated, the weight of her regret visible in her every movement. “When our consciousnesses blended, I thought I could remain in control, but instead, it’s you who ended up in charge. You’re the dominant one now. I’m just… stuck.”

Seoin stared at Zeoin, the enormity of what she was hearing settling in her chest like a stone. “So, you want me to fix your mistakes? To save this world instead?”

Zeoin’s expression hardened, and she stepped closer, her presence almost demanding despite the surreal backdrop. “I don’t expect you to do it for me,” she said, her voice low and laced with urgency. “But you’re here now, and you have a chance to make things right in a way that I can’t. I’m asking you to try, Seoin. Because I failed.”

Seoin’s mind whirled with confusion, anger, and the suffocating weight of expectation. “Why should I? I don’t even belong here! I just want to go home. Back to my family, back to my life.”

Zeoin’s expression softened, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I know you didn’t ask for this. But this world is broken, and I… I can’t change what I’ve done. You’re not just here by accident, Seoin. You’re here because I failed, and maybe—just maybe—you’re the only one who can fix it.”

Seoin felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, the overwhelming sense of responsibility crushing down on her. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Zeoin took a deep breath, her expression shifting to something more earnest, as if she were letting Seoin in on a deeply held secret. “Your power—our power—isn’t just about moving between worlds. It’s about drawing strength, skills, and knowledge from different realities. When I trigger it, it feels like a door opening in my mind, a rush of memories and instincts that aren’t mine but feel like they are.”

Zeoin paused, searching for the right way to explain. “It’s like… tapping into something larger than yourself. You’ll feel a pull, a tug deep inside, like gravity trying to reel you in. When it happens, you’ll know. You have to let go of your doubts and trust that it’ll guide you. The first time is the hardest because it doesn’t feel natural—like trying to remember a song you’ve never heard before.”

Seoin listened, absorbing every word, the description resonating in a way she couldn’t quite articulate. It felt both foreign and strangely familiar, like a forgotten instinct she’d yet to awaken. “So… it’s all about feeling it?” she asked, still uncertain.

Zeoin nodded. “Exactly. The more you try to force it, the more it slips away. Just let it happen. I know it sounds impossible, but when you stop overthinking, that’s when it comes to you.”

Zeoin reached out, her hand brushing Seoin’s arm in a gesture that was both comforting and desperate. “You’re stronger than you think. And you’re not alone. Those boys—Taesan, Leehan, Riwoo, Woonhak—they don’t want to fight. They’re hoping for something better, something more. Just like you.”

Seoin nodded slowly, feeling the flicker of resolve begin to build within her. Zeoin’s words echoed in her mind, a call to action that she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she wanted to. “I’ll try,” Seoin said finally, meeting Zeoin’s gaze with determination. “I don’t know how, but I’ll try.”

Zeoin smiled faintly, the first genuine expression of hope Seoin had seen from her. “That’s all I’m asking,” she said softly, her form beginning to blur and fade as the dream started to unravel. “Just… don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

As Zeoin disappeared, the dreamscape dissolved into darkness, and Seoin was left alone, surrounded by the quiet weight of her own thoughts. When she finally woke, her heart was pounding, and the reality of her new mission settled firmly in her chest. She wasn’t just here by accident. She had been brought to this world for a reason, and now, it was up to her to see it through.

turn the page? forward

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idols. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[fgumi]

Hiii, will the new 19.99 also be a taesan x reader?

yes! i always wanted it to be subtle though because of the comeback's concept being coming of age. as the story progresses, you'll see the taesan X ofc tag in the pairing(s) line :) thank you for giving the new 19.99 series a try!

[fgumi]

im glad that my prev message flipped your frown around 🥰🥰 it's great that telling your friends managed to soothe your worries 🙏🏻🙏🏻

the newest addition to the idol!bnd x idol!reader was sooo good 😖😖 it made me laugh so hard while I was reading it 😮‍💨😮‍💨 i cant wait to see what you cook up next🩷🩷

AH! ty for reading it hehe. it's my favorite series to write for. i'm thinking that i do another event that is humorous. i don't know if anyone even wants a romance within this series. i wouldn't mind it, but i know that it's just fun and platonic right now. i don't wanna ruin that for some people.

[fgumi]

𝟏𝟗.𝟗𝟗; a boynextdoor series

*:･ﾟ✧ synopsis: seoin yang’s ordinary life is shattered when she’s thrust into a war-torn alternate reality where young adults are conscripted into battle, and hybe, a powerful biomedical facility, creates superhumans to serve as soldiers. mistaken for a missing soldier, seoin is captured and drawn into the cold world of hybe. there, she meets boynextdoor, a group of superhumans desperate to escape before hybe forces woonhak, their strongest member, to use his terrifying powers.

as seoin searches for a way home, she uncovers dark secrets about the war—secrets that could end the conflict if revealed. caught between her desire to return to her family and the unfolding struggle around her, seoin must decide whether she has the strength to fight against the forces that control this world.

*:･ﾟ✧ pairing(s): boynextdoor x original female character *:･ﾟ✧ featuring: enhypen *:･ﾟ✧ genre: sci-fi, coming of age, hints of romance *:･ﾟ✧ status: ongoing *:･ﾟ✧ a/n: dare i say revamped without painful plotholes?? seriously, writing this series is both enjoyable and painful. all of my ideas are unable to translate because i suck at writing. prologue and masterlist under the cut! *:･ﾟ✧ prologue word count: 5.3k

The city was a ruin of crumbling concrete and twisted steel, shrouded in smoke and the acrid scent of burning. Enhypen wove through the wreckage, their figures barely more than flickers in the chaos of battle. Explosions rocked the ground beneath them, rattling what was left of the skeletal buildings that once stood tall. The war had stripped this place of everything but desperation and destruction.

Jungwon led the group with calm precision, his eyes scanning the battlefield with a keen intensity that had saved them countless times before. Heeseung moved beside him, his enhanced perception catching every subtle movement—a glint of a sniper’s scope, the faintest flicker of an enemy’s shadow. Together, they were a formidable force, commanding the battlefield with a mix of strategy and instinct that set them apart.

“Enemy at three o’clock,” Heeseung’s voice cut through the comms, sharp and controlled.

Without missing a beat, Jake vanished from their side, reappearing behind enemy lines with a flash of blue light. His teleportation was fluid, almost effortless, but today, it felt strained. The war was wearing on all of them, and every jump took a little more out of him.

“Clear,” Jake’s voice buzzed through the earpiece, and Jungwon nodded, signaling the rest to advance.

Sunghoon took the rear, his ice barriers snapping up just in time to deflect a hail of bullets. The sharp crack of frozen water sounded like gunfire itself, and Sunghoon’s breath was visible in the frigid air around him, eyes narrowed with focus. They pushed forward, weaving through the debris, each step calculated, every move a testament to their years of training and the bond they shared.

As they reached their target—a fortified bunker that had been raining hellfire down on allied forces—Sunoo activated his powers. A shimmering veil of illusions spread out, masking their approach. The enemy, confused by the shifting mirages, fired blindly into the emptiness, unable to pinpoint the true threat.

“Now!” Jungwon’s command was instant, and Enhypen struck as one, a coordinated assault that took out the bunker in a flash of ice, fire, and raw power. The battle was over in seconds, but the weariness in their eyes told a different story. Every victory came at a cost, and today was no exception.

Jungwon glanced over his team, reading the exhaustion in their faces. Sunoo’s usually bright expression was muted, and Jake leaned heavily against a crumbling wall, catching his breath. Even Heeseung, the sharpest of them all, had a flicker of doubt in his eyes as he scanned the horizon for threats that were always just one step away.

“We need to move,” Jungwon said, voice steady but laced with an unspoken urgency. The war was never truly over; it just shifted to the next battlefield, the next impossible mission. They were heroes out here, but back at HYBE’s facility, they were just tools—powerful, valuable, but ultimately expendable.

As they made their way back, Jungwon couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The war felt wrong in a way he couldn’t quite articulate, a nagging suspicion that the battles they fought weren’t about victory. It was a thought he kept to himself, buried beneath layers of duty and necessity. For now, they had to keep moving. For now, they were just trying to survive.

As Enhypen slipped back into the shadows, the battlefield faded behind them, but the weight of their actions lingered like the smoke that clung to their uniforms. They moved silently through the war-torn streets, navigating the twisted remnants of what had once been a vibrant city. For a moment, there was a fleeting sense of victory—a small, fleeting triumph in a war that seemed endless.

Enhypen returned to the HYBE facility under the cover of night, slipping through the heavily guarded gates like ghosts. Here, their victory was met with cold indifference. The compound was a stark contrast to the chaos outside: all glass and steel, sterile and precise, like the heart of some great, unfeeling machine. Enhypen had been here too many times to count, but the place still felt alien—more prison than home.

The facility buzzed with activity, scientists and military advisors moving with purpose, their gazes fixed on screens displaying live war feeds and data. Enhypen moved through the decontamination chamber, the hiss of pressurized air and the bright, sterile lights making the world feel cold and disconnected. Gone were the sounds of gunfire and explosions; here, the only noise was the hum of machines and the faint beeping of monitors.

They were ushered into a debriefing room, where a panel of HYBE’s executives awaited them, flanked by rows of monitors displaying footage of their recent mission. The air was thick with tension, the kind that came from being constantly evaluated and judged by people who saw them as assets rather than individuals.

“Excellent work,” an executive said, her tone devoid of warmth. “Your efficiency on the field remains unmatched.”

Jungwon nodded, his face a careful mask. The praise was hollow, a routine acknowledgment that held no real value. He scanned the room, taking in the sterile environment, the impassive faces of the scientists, and the constant stream of battle footage playing on the screens. This was HYBE’s nerve center, where decisions were made, and strategies were crafted.

“We’ll need you back out there soon,” another executive continued, tapping away at a tablet. “The eastern front is unstable, and your presence is critical.”

There was no room for rest, no time to process. Enhypen’s missions blurred together, one battle bleeding into the next, each one more grueling than the last. Sunoo shifted uneasily, his eyes darting to the screens showing other superhumans in action, their faces as tired and worn as his own. He glanced at Jungwon, who gave a slight nod of acknowledgment—just enough to keep them steady.

Jungwon’s gaze drifted back to the monitors. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The battles played out like a choreographed sequence, each one seemingly designed to keep the conflict in perpetual motion. He couldn’t pinpoint what bothered him, but the sense of unease lingered—a quiet, insistent feeling that there was more happening than what they were told.

As the briefing concluded, the screens shifted, and for a brief moment, a different set of footage appeared—grainy surveillance video from deep within the facility, showing two figures, bound and escorted by guards through a dimly lit corridor. Enhypen’s attention snapped to the screen, drawn by the unexpected change.

The figures were young, not much older than themselves, their faces bruised and exhausted. The grainy footage made it hard to discern details, but one thing was clear: they weren’t supposed to be there.

“Is this part of the briefing?” Sunghoon asked, his brow furrowing as he watched the scene unfold. The officials glanced at the screens, and one of them quickly moved to change the display, but not before Enhypen caught the names flashing briefly on the screen.

Jaehyun and Sungho.

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed. He had never seen these two before, but there was something about the way they were being handled that felt wrong—too harsh, too secretive. They were being dragged, not led, and the guards’ tight grip suggested more than just routine discipline.

The screen flickered back to the usual battle footage, but the image of the two boys lingered in Jungwon’s mind. The officials exchanged tense glances, quickly dismissing the footage as a “security matter” that didn’t concern the team. But Jungwon knew better.

“We’ll review the next steps tomorrow,” the lead executive said curtly, brushing off the momentary interruption. “You’re dismissed.”

As Enhypen filed out of the room, Jungwon couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was very wrong. He didn’t know who Jaehyun and Sungho were or why they were being detained, but the brief glimpse into that hidden corner of the facility stirred a sense of disquiet that wouldn’t be easily dismissed.

“Did you see those kids?” Heeseung asked quietly as they made their way down the hallway. “Something about that wasn’t right.”

Jungwon nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah. And I don’t think we were supposed to see it.”

The group fell silent, the weight of what they’d seen settling over them like a shroud. Enhypen was powerful, but they were also kept in the dark, shielded from the true workings of the war they fought in. But now, for the first time, Jungwon felt the pull to dig deeper, to understand what HYBE was hiding—and what it meant for them all.

They continued down the corridor, their footsteps echoing in the barren halls, each of them quietly haunted by the fleeting image of Jaehyun and Sungho. It was a reminder that even within these walls, where they were meant to feel safe, there were secrets—dangerous ones—that HYBE would do anything to keep.

After the debriefing, Enhypen was led to the medical wing for their routine check-ups. The scientists were thorough, scanning each member with a detached efficiency, their focus on data rather than the people in front of them. Jungwon lay back in the examination chair, staring at the bright lights above as the technicians worked in silence.

“You’ve been pushing hard,” one technician noted absently as she adjusted the sensors on his arm. “Keep it up. You’re HYBE’s best.”

Jungwon gave a faint, noncommittal smile. The compliment was as mechanical as the process itself. His thoughts drifted back to the battlefield, to the uncertainty that lingered with each mission. And then there was the question of Jaehyun and Sungho—their capture breeding gnawing concern.

Jungwon’s eyes flicked to Heeseung, who was sitting across the room, staring blankly at a monitor. There was an unspoken understanding between them—HYBE was hiding something. They’d learned to trust their instincts, and right now, those instincts were screaming that something was wrong. But without proof, they were left empty-handed, unable to do something about the suspicion burning up.

The group was dismissed, and as they walked back to their quarters, Jungwon stole a glance at the facility’s towering walls, reinforced with barbed wire and armed guards—a base that was more of a leash.

As they settled into the dimly lit barracks, the exhaustion set in, but sleep was elusive. Jungwon lay awake, replaying the day’s events in his mind. The missions were relentless, the stakes higher with each passing week, and the lines between right and wrong had long since blurred. Enhypen was powerful, but despite their efforts, they couldn’t bring an end to this war.

There was a quiet resolve in Jungwon’s eyes as he stared at the ceiling, a determination to find answers, even if he had to piece them together one mission at a time. He didn’t know what HYBE was hiding, but he intended to find out. Because the war wasn’t just about the enemy outside—it was about the battles being fought within these walls, the ones that no one was supposed to see.

A few hours before Enhypen’s return, deep within the heart of the HYBE facility, Jaehyun and Sungho moved silently through the dimly lit corridors, their footsteps barely audible against the cold, polished floors. They had been on countless missions before—dangerous, high-stakes operations on the battlefield—but this one was different. There were no enemies to fight, no explosions rocking the ground beneath their feet. Instead, they found themselves navigating the bleak, restricted areas of the facility itself, where even the slightest mistake could mean discovery.

It had started as a simple hunch, something that nagged at Jaehyun ever since he’d overheard a fragment of a conversation between two high-ranking officials. They spoke in hushed tones, words clipped and guarded, but it was enough to spark his curiosity. Sungho, ever the loyal partner, hadn’t questioned Jaehyun’s instincts. They had seen enough to know when something didn’t add up, and HYBE was a place where secrets ran deep.

“Are you sure about this?” Sungho whispered, glancing around nervously as they moved deeper into the facility. The walls seemed to close in, lined with surveillance cameras that blinked with a menacing red light.

Jaehyun nodded, his senses heightened. “There’s something they’re not telling us. I don’t know what it is yet, but we need to find out.”

They continued forward, slipping past security checkpoints with practiced ease, using the cover of shadows and their training to avoid detection. The air was thick with tension, every creak of metal and hum of machinery amplified in the silence. They knew these hallways well—had walked them a hundred times—but tonight, everything felt different, charged with an underlying sense of danger.

Jaehyun led Sungho to a secure data room hidden at the end of a deserted corridor, far from the eyes of the regular personnel. He had overheard that this room housed information beyond their usual clearance, files that were off-limits even to those highly ranked. With a quick scan of his surroundings, Jaehyun approached the door, his fingers deftly bypassing the security lock. The door slid open with a soft hiss, and the two of them slipped inside.

The room was small, filled with rows of servers and a single terminal glowing faintly in the dim light. Sungho moved to the terminal, his fingers working swiftly to access the files. He navigated through layers of security, bypassing firewalls and encryption protocols with the skill of someone who’d been trained to handle the facility’s technology. Jaehyun stood watch, his eyes darting between the door and the flickering screen.

“What are we even looking for?” Sungho asked, his voice barely audible as he pulled up a series of files.

“I don’t know yet,” Jaehyun admitted, tension lacing his words. “Anything that doesn’t make sense. Anything they wouldn’t want us to see.”

Sungho’s eyes scanned the data, his brow furrowing as he came across a series of encrypted communications. The files were heavily redacted, their contents obscured, but the subject lines alone were enough to make his stomach drop. Terms like “Project Phantom,” “Iron Curtain,” and “Directive Serpent” flashed across the screen, and the further he dug, the more unsettling it became.

“Jaehyun, this doesn’t look right,” Sungho said, his voice tight with unease. “These are mission logs, but they’re not ours. They’re documenting something else—someone else.”

Before they could delve deeper, the soft buzz of an alert filled the room, and the terminal’s screen shifted to a flashing red warning. They had triggered a security breach, and the room’s access was being cut off remotely. Jaehyun’s eyes widened, and he grabbed Sungho’s arm.

“We need to go. Now.”

They bolted for the door, but it was too late. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder with every second. Guards flooded into the hallway, their weapons raised, blocking any chance of escape. Jaehyun and Sungho were seized, forced to their knees as their hands were bound behind their backs. The guards didn’t ask questions; they acted with the cold efficiency of those who were following orders without hesitation.

“What the hell were you two doing in there?” one of the guards snarled, pulling Jaehyun to his feet with a rough jerk.

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent. Beside him, Sungho struggled against his restraints, anger flashing in his eyes. They hadn’t found what they were looking for, but whatever HYBE was hiding, it was big enough to warrant this level of security—and that meant it was worth the risk.

The guards dragged them down the corridor, their grip unyielding. Jaehyun caught glimpses of surveillance cameras tracking their every move, capturing their capture from every angle. He knew this footage would never see the light of day, that whatever HYBE was hiding would remain buried beneath layers of deception. But as they were shoved into a holding cell deep within the facility, one thought remained clear in Jaehyun’s mind: they were onto something, and HYBE was desperate to keep it hidden.

The door slammed shut, leaving them in darkness. The last thing Jaehyun saw was the flicker of the red recording light on the ceiling, capturing every second of their captivity. He and Sungho were alone, trapped in a web of secrets they didn’t fully understand, but they weren’t giving up. They would find a way to get the truth out—one way or another.

Far from the chaos of HYBE’s facility and the relentless war raging in this reality, Seoin Yang’s world was quiet and unremarkable. The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows of her family’s modest home, casting a warm, golden light that softened the edges of the living room. It was a peaceful scene, one that Seoin often took for granted.

She sat at the kitchen table, her textbooks spread out before her, though her mind wasn’t entirely on the pages. The muffled sounds of a soccer game played on the TV in the next room—Jungwon, her twin brother, was absorbed in yet another match, cheering on his favorite team with an enthusiasm that filled the house. Seoin glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Jungwon was the prodigy, the one who shone effortlessly in everything he did. She was proud of him, but there was always that small, nagging feeling in the back of her mind—a sense of being overshadowed.

Seoin turned her attention back to her notes, trying to focus. She had a test coming up, but the material felt dull and uninspiring, like so many things in her life. It wasn’t that she disliked school or soccer; it was just that everything felt...average. Mundane. She often wondered if there was something more she was missing, some part of herself that had yet to be discovered.

In the background, the commentator’s excited voice rose in pitch as a player made a break for the goal. Seoin let her thoughts drift, staring absently at the half-finished assignment in front of her. She loved her family, loved the normalcy of her life, but sometimes she couldn’t help but feel small in the grand scheme of things. Invisible, almost.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Seoin leaned back in her chair, her gaze wandering to the framed photos on the wall. Pictures of her and Jungwon growing up—soccer games, school events, family vacations. Memories captured in moments of joy and simplicity. For a fleeting second, she envied the version of herself in those photos, free from the quiet ache of feeling ordinary.

Seoin sighed, closing her textbook. There was no point in forcing herself to study when her mind was elsewhere. She stood up, moving to the window to watch the fading light. In her heart, she made a small, unspoken wish—a quiet longing for more than the average life she was living. She didn’t know what that meant or how it could ever happen, but the feeling was there, persistent and undeniable.

Outside, the first stars were beginning to appear, twinkling faintly against the deepening sky. Seoin stared up at them, feeling a strange pull, a sensation that was both familiar and foreign. It was as if something was calling to her, something just out of reach.

Then, without warning, the room around her seemed to waver. The soft glow of the kitchen lights flickered, and for a split second, the world felt unsteady. Seoin blinked, disoriented, her heartbeat quickening as a wave of dizziness swept over her. She reached out, gripping the windowsill for support, but the sensation only intensified.

The air grew heavy, charged with an energy that didn’t belong in her quiet home. It felt like being caught in the eye of a storm, everything around her twisting and warping in ways that defied explanation. She tried to call out for Jungwon, but her voice caught in her throat, lost in the swirling dissonance that filled her ears.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the world went dark.

Seoin’s consciousness flickered, caught between one reality and another. She felt herself falling, weightless and unanchored, pulled by an unseen force that dragged her far from the safety of her home. There was no sense of direction, no up or down—just an endless, chaotic rush that swept her away.

When she opened her eyes again, everything had changed.

Seoin found herself lying on the cold, hard ground, surrounded by unfamiliar sights and sounds. The sky above was a sickly gray, tinged with smoke and ash. The air was thick with the distant rumble of gunfire and the harsh clang of metal on metal. She pushed herself up, heart racing as she took in the war-torn landscape before her. This was not her world.

Confusion and fear gripped her. She didn’t understand what had happened or where she was, but instinct told her to move. She stumbled forward, her mind reeling, trying to make sense of the impossible.

The city around her was in ruins, a desolate maze of crumbling buildings and debris. Seoin stepped cautiously over broken glass and twisted metal, every noise amplified in the eerie silence that followed the distant booms of artillery. This was nothing like her normal day-to-day—everything here was sharp, hostile, and alien.

She wandered aimlessly, her heart racing as she took in the wreckage. Graffiti in a language she didn’t recognize was scrawled across walls, and torn posters flapped in the wind, their faded images barely distinguishable. The streets were empty, littered with abandoned vehicles and signs of a hasty exodus. It was as if the entire city had been evacuated, leaving behind only the ghosts of whatever battle had torn it apart.

Seoin turned a corner and froze. In the distance, she saw figures moving—a squad of soldiers, their faces obscured by helmets and masks. They moved with a mechanical precision that set Seoin on edge, their weapons held at the ready. She ducked behind a stack of rubble, her breath hitching as she watched them pass. They were unlike any soldiers she’d ever seen—swift, efficient, and utterly emotionless.

Seoin staggered through the war-torn streets, her senses overwhelmed by the smoke, ash, and distant sounds of conflict. Her mind was spinning, disoriented by the abrupt transition from her quiet home to this nightmarish landscape. She had no idea where she was or how she’d ended up here, but every instinct screamed at her to find shelter, to hide from whatever dangers lurked nearby.

This wasn’t a place she recognized, and it definitely wasn’t safe. Seoin pressed herself against the wall, trying to piece together the fragments of what had happened. She remembered standing by the window in her kitchen, feeling that strange, disorienting pull. She remembered the sudden darkness, the sense of falling—and then she was here, wherever here was.

She continued to move, keeping low and out of sight, her eyes darting to every shadow, every movement. As she rounded another corner, she spotted a small alleyway that led to what looked like a market square, now deserted and ravaged by conflict. The remnants of makeshift barricades and burnt-out stalls told the story of a fight that had been fought—and lost.

Seoin’s footsteps echoed softly as she crossed the empty square, her gaze drawn to a large screen mounted on the side of a building. It flickered intermittently, displaying propaganda messages in a language she couldn’t fully understand. Images of soldiers—strong, heroic, and unnervingly uniform—flashed on the screen, followed by the logo of an organization she had never seen before: HYBE.

She watched, transfixed, as the screen showed clips of these soldiers in action—jumping into battle, wielding weapons that seemed almost otherworldly. They moved with a coordinated power that was awe-inspiring and terrifying all at once. Seoin couldn’t tear her eyes away, feeling a strange mixture of fear and fascination. What was this place, and who were these people?

As she tried to make sense of the images, a soft noise caught her attention. Seoin turned quickly, spotting two figures darting between the buildings on the other side of the square. Unlike the soldiers she’d seen, these people moved erratically, almost desperately, as if they were being hunted. They disappeared into the shadows before she could get a clear look.

Seoin hesitated, unsure whether to follow. She was lost, alone, and frightened, but staying put felt just as dangerous as venturing deeper into this unknown. She moved cautiously in the direction the figure had gone, clinging to the hope that they might be able to explain what was happening, or at the very least, weren’t a threat.

The alleyway narrowed, the walls closing in as Seoin edged forward. The air was thick and acrid, stinging her lungs with every breath. She rounded another corner, expecting to find the figures, but the space was empty. Just more rubble, more decay, and the unsettling sense that she was being watched.

A faint hum filled the air, low and constant, like the distant thrum of machinery. Seoin’s eyes scanned her surroundings, searching for the source, but there was nothing to see. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, every instinct screaming at her that she was in over her head.

She tried making sense of her surroundings. She glanced down briefly at herself, too stunned to notice the unfamiliar gear she was wearing—fitted tactical attire with markings she didn’t recognize, far more advanced than anything she owned. The chaos of her sudden arrival had obscured the details; she was focused only on finding safety.

The sound of a vehicle’s engine rumbled closer. Seoin crouched instinctively, hiding behind a pile of rubble as an armored truck rolled to a stop nearby. Soldiers dressed in tactical gear jumped out, scanning the area with sharp, practiced movements. They hadn’t seen her yet, but Seoin knew it was only a matter of time.

She held her breath, trying to inch further back, but her foot dislodged a small piece of debris that skittered across the pavement. The sound echoed, and the soldiers’ heads snapped in her direction. Seoin’s heart pounded as she tried to back away, but one of the soldiers raised his hand, signaling the others.

“Hey! Stop right there!” a soldier barked, pointing his weapon toward her. “Who are you?”

Seoin froze, her mind racing. She couldn’t think of what to say, and the soldiers’ expressions were a mix of suspicion and confusion as they closed in, keeping their weapons trained on her.

One soldier stepped closer, eyeing her outfit with a frown. “That gear… isn’t that one of ours?” he muttered, glancing at his companions. “HYBE’s issue. What’s she doing out here in that?”

Another soldier, the squad leader, looked Seoin up and down, his face hardening with suspicion. “You’re not supposed to be out here,” he said sharply. “What’s your clearance? Where’s your unit?”

Seoin looked at them, bewildered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m lost. I don’t even know how I got here.”

The soldiers exchanged uneasy looks, clearly unsure of what to make of her. The leader, trying to keep control, nodded toward the truck. “We’re taking you in. We’ll sort this out back at the base.”

Seoin was grabbed roughly, her arms restrained behind her as they led her toward the truck. She struggled, trying to explain, but her words were met with gruff indifference.

The ride back was tense and disorienting. Seoin’s mind whirled with fear and unanswered questions as the truck rumbled along uneven roads. She had no idea where they were taking her, but every instinct told her that whatever awaited her would be far from comforting.

When the vehicle finally stopped, Seoin was marched into a large, fortified facility—an imposing structure of metal and glass, fortified and unwelcoming. Inside, everything was pristine and uninviting.

The soldiers led her through the maze of corridors, barely pausing as they pushed her toward a holding room. Seoin’s heart raced as she was shoved inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind her. She was left alone in the stark, brightly lit space, her hands still bound, and her mind swimming with panic.

Moments later, the door swung open, and a group of officials entered, their faces etched with disbelief. They approached cautiously, eyes flicking between Seoin and the screens displaying data and surveillance feeds.

The lead official, a woman with sharp features and an air of authority, stepped closer, her gaze fixed on Seoin. “You disappeared during the last operation,” she said, her voice edged with suspicion. “We lost all contact. Where have you been?”

Seoin stared, bewildered by their familiarity. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was at home, and then suddenly… I’m here.”

The officials exchanged baffled looks. One of the men, dressed in a crisp uniform, leaned closer, his tone filled with a mix of confusion and irritation. “You vanished weeks ago, and now you just show up without warning? What happened to the mission? Command’s been scrambling to figure out what happened.”

Seoin’s fear spiked. These people were talking to her like they knew her, expecting answers she couldn’t give. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t even know where I am.”

The officials’ expressions tightened, frustration mounting as they struggled to make sense of Seoin’s behavior. “You don’t remember anything?” the woman pressed, her tone edged with disbelief. “No memory of the battle? Or what happen before you went missing?”

Seoin shook her head, her voice trembling. “I don’t know any of this. I’ve never been here before. I’ve certainly never been on any mission. I was just at home, studying for a midterm.”

The officials exchanged more hurried whispers, their confusion deepening. The lead official finally gestured to the guards, her patience worn thin. “Take her back to the cells. We need to figure out what’s going on. This doesn’t make any sense.”

Seoin was escorted out, her mind reeling as she was marched through the facility’s stark corridors. She caught glimpses of high-tech labs, soldiers training, and screens filled with surveillance footage—images of a world that felt distant and unwelcoming. There were two cell doors hung off their hinges, metal frames twisted and dented, evidence of a desperate escape attempt. Flickering lights cast shadows over the jagged edges, where wires dangled loosely, sparking intermittently in the eerie silence.

Before she could see more, Seoin was pushed into a small, windowless cell. The door slammed shut behind her, the screech of the sliding lock bouncing of the walls. Seoin sank to the floor, overwhelmed and terrified. She was alone, mistaken for someone else, trapped in a reality that defied everything she knew. As she stared at the unyielding walls, Seoin knew one thing: she needed to find a way to prove who she was and find a way home.

But for now, all she could do was wait—and hope that whatever lay ahead, she would find the strength to face it.

✧ chapter one: released! ✧ chapter two: released! ✧ chapter three: released! ✧ chapter four: to be released ✧ chapter five: to be released ✧ chapter six: to be released ✧ chapter seven: to be released ✧ chapter eight: to be released ✧ chapter nine: to be released ✧ chapter ten: to be released

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idols. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

taglist is open! (tbh it's all gonna be released within the next two days so i dunno if it's necessary)