Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

San woke up uneasy.

Seonghwa’s voice from the call last night kept replaying in his head.

Whatever you do, do not open social media.

San pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes and exhaled slowly. Seonghwa had sounded calm when he said it—too calm. Anyone else might have believed it. But San had known the man long enough to recognize the warning signs beneath the polished tone.

That eerily calm tone only happened when something had already exploded.

Which meant somewhere, somehow, something had gone terribly wrong.

His phone had been vibrating all morning, a continuous buzz that did nothing to ease his nerves. Not fan notifications, not event tags, not even photos.

San turned his head and stared at the screen.

Dozens of notifications had already piled up.

By the time he blinked, the number climbed higher.

Messages.

Not just a few either—hundreds. Then thousands.

Most of them were from numbers he didn’t recognize—

—toomanytoomanytoomany—

—His stomach tightened. It was clear that something had gone awry. That familiar, creeping dread began pooling in his chest, the same suffocating sensation he hadn’t felt in years. The kind that made your breathing shallow and your thoughts spiral faster than you could catch them. His fingers hovered over the phone, suddenly hesitant.

He knew he shouldn’t open it—Seonghwa had told him not to.

But not knowing was worse.

His pulse kicked harder in his chest as another vibration rattled the table.

And another. Then they started flooding his screen like a harsh current.

San’s throat felt dry. He reached for the phone, thumb hovering over the screen as the notifications kept multiplying faster than he could count. For one terrible moment his mind jumped to the worst possibilities. What if it was a bad review going viral? A leaked chapter? Some misunderstanding blown out of proportion?

Or something worse.

His pulse started climbing, each beat louder than the last. His breathing grew shallow.

The phone vibrated again.

And again.

And again.

And aga—

—can’tbreathecan’tbreathecan’tbreathecan’tbreathe—

—Then the screen lit up.

Not a random number this time.

2 New Messages from woo

The message preview appeared before San could even unlock the phone. And San gasped as he could finally breathe again.

woo

Missed call 

San.

Please tell me you’re awake.

Another message popped up immediately after.

yeo

Don’t reply to anything yet.

San blinked.

A third notification appeared.

Yunho

Hey

Are you okay?

Then a fourth.

Mingi

Missed call

Missed call

Please answer your phone.

The buzzing hadn’t stopped, but the panic clawing at his chest loosened just enough for him to breathe again. If everyone was messaging him at once…then whatever was happening, he wasn’t facing it alone.

Still, the knot in his stomach didn’t disappear.

If anything, it tightened.

Because if all of them were panicking like this, whatever had gone wrong last night wasn’t small—not even close. And San still had absolutely no idea what it was.

Before he could spiral even deeper, a familiar ringtone cut through his thoughts.

Incoming call: Big Boss

San reached out to accept the call before he could even process what happened.

“San, you haven’t gone out yet right?” Seonghwa’s stern voice emerged from the speaker, yet his voice had an underlying hint of tension that San couldn’t discern.

San blinked at the seemingly random question, confused on how to answer. “….No, I haven’t hyung. Is anything going on right now? Should I be worried?” He joked despite the grim situation, trying to lighten the mood.

“Great. I sent a company car your way, it should arrive in ten—it’s a black Cxdillxc Xscxlade XXX. It’ll take you to the company building, we’re holding an emergency meeting.” Seonghwa added briefly.

This deeply confused San. In the very long time he’s worked with Arriba Agency, he has never been escorted by a company car before, always commuting by bus or train—sometimes even walking if he feels like it. Heck, San didn’t even know they had company cars stashed away somewhere.

Combined with the emergency meeting and frantic notifications from his phone, San grew even more wary.

Realizing that he left his hyung waiting without a response for way too long, he rushed to reply. “Ah, yes hyung. Thank you for the company car.”

“Don’t mention it, your safety is the priority here.” Seonghwa reassured.

There was a brief pause—like he wanted to say something else.

“…San.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t talk to anyone on the way here. Just get inside the car and come straight to the building, meeting room 1117. I’ll explain everything when you arrive.”

San’s grip on his phone tightened slightly. “…Okay.”

“Good. Call me if anything feels off.”

“…I will.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

The line clicked dead.

For a moment, San just stared at his phone.

“…Don’t talk to anyone, huh.”

That was new.

Seonghwa wasn’t the type to give instructions like that—not unless something had already gone very, very wrong.

His phone buzzed again.

Then again.

And again.

San’s brows furrowed as he unlocked it this time.

Wooyoung. Yeosang. Unknown numbers.

San swallowed, locking his phone without replying to any of them.

“…I’ll check later.”

It came out quieter than he expected.

By the time he stepped outside, the air felt…different. He felt someone across the street glanced at him—then looked away too quickly.

San’s shoulders stiffened.

Don’t talk to anyone.

…Right.

True to Seonghwa’s word, a Cxdillxc Xscxlade XXX pulled up to the curb, smooth and silent.

The window rolled down just enough.

“Mr. Choi?”

San blinked at the formality before nodding. “…Yes.”

The driver stepped out immediately, opening the back door for him.

San hesitated for a second, before he remembered what Seonghwa said:

| Your safety is the priority.

He got in the car without hesitation, and the door shut with a soft, heavy thud behind him. Once he went in, he was greeted by silence.

San placed his bag beside him, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating again.

“…Um,” he started, leaning forward slightly. “Do you know what’s going on at the company?”

The driver met his eyes briefly through the mirror.

“…I’ve only been instructed to get you there safely, sir.”

Right.

Of course.

San leaned back slowly, letting his gaze drift to the window. Only then did he notice the dark tint, muting the world outside.

What little he could see didn’t look familiar.

This wasn’t his usual route.

San straightened slightly.

Slowly, his attention sharpened—tracking the turns, the rhythm of the traffic, the way the car moved through it.

Something felt…off.

Almost instinctively, he glanced back and saw another black car following closely behind.

San kept his gaze there for a second longer than necessary.

Then two.

It didn’t overtake them, nor did it fall behind. The car just lingered behind, silently tailing them.

His fingers tightened slightly against his sleeve.

It had to be a coincidence—this wasn’t a movie, and despite his standing in the book world, he wasn’t a high-profile celebrity outside.

San leaned forward a little, glancing toward the driver.

“…Excuse me—”

The words stalled in his throat.

“Don’t talk to anyone on the way here.”

Right.

He leaned back again, slower this time.

“…Nothing.”

The driver didn’t question it, he didn’t even react.

That somehow made it worse.

San’s gaze drifted back to the window.

The car was still there.

“…Those guys are probably security…” he muttered under his breath, like saying it would make it true.

It made sense, right?

His phone buzzed again in his hand.

This time, the sound felt too loud in the quiet.

Minutes stretched painfully as San watched the city blur past the tinted windows. His phone sat heavy in his hand, screen still glowing faintly with unread notifications.

He tried not to look at them. Really, he did.

But every buzz dragged his attention right back.

‘Do not open social media.’

Seonghwa never said things like that unless something was seriously wrong, which only made San want to know more.

His thumb hovered near the screen before pulling away again.

Maybe he should wait until he got to the building. Maybe hearing it directly would be better.

…Or maybe that was just another excuse to avoid looking.

San exhaled sharply through his nose. “Okay,” he muttered under his breath. “Enough.”

He unlocked his phone properly this time, forcing himself to look at the flood of headlines and messages.

His stomach twisted.

I’ll just check one.

His thumb moved toward the first notification—

And the car abruptly slowed to a stop.

San jerked slightly as the driver hit the brakes.

“Mr. Choi,” the driver said evenly, like he hadn’t just shaved ten years off San’s lifespan. “We’ve arrived at the company building.”

“…Right.” San stared at the screen for one lingering second before locking it with visible reluctance. “Thanks.”

San noted that the driver had specifically chosen the more discreet, back entrance of the company building. The moment San stepped out of the car, the driver was already moving ahead to open the building entrance for him.

It was too formal, way too formal.

San muttered another awkward thanks before slipping inside quickly, instinctively lowering his head despite the lack of reporters outside.

The lobby was quieter than usual.

Not empty—just…tense.

Staff moved briskly across the floor, voices lowered into hurried murmurs. A few people glanced up when he entered before immediately looking away again.

Someone’s phone buzzed nearby.

San caught his own name before the conversation abruptly cut off.

His stomach sank.

The elevator ride felt unbearably long.

By the time the doors slid open onto the executive floor, San’s nerves were stretched thin enough to snap.

A staff member waiting outside immediately straightened.

“Mr. Choi, this way please.”

Right.

No one ever called him that either.

The closer they got to the meeting room, the more muffled voices he could hear through the walls.

Sharp. Tense.

Then—

Silence.

The staff member stopped in front of the door.

“…They’re waiting for you.”

With a confused nod of acknowledgement, San opened the door slowly. As expected, Seonghwa was already standing infront of the large screen in the meeting room, looking prim, proper, and professional. Yet despite that, he clearly looked concerned. To his right, Wooyoung and Yeosang were seated. The former looked pale as he waved at San, a strained smile evident on his face while Yeosang sat unnaturally still beside him.

“…You made it.”

Somehow, that more than anything made San’s stomach twist.

“Sit down next to Yeosang first,” Seonghwa said gently.

San obeyed automatically.

A beat of silence passed before Seonghwa spoke again.

“…Did you eat today?”

“…What?”

“You heard me.”

Wooyoung made a strangled noise somewhere beside him. “Hyung, now’s not really the time for—”

“I know exactly what time it is,” Seonghwa interrupted quietly.

Silence.

Then his gaze returned to San. “…How much have you seen?”

“Not much,” San admitted frankly. “I followed your advice.”

Seonghwa exhaled a sigh of relief. “Good. The less you saw alone, the better.”

Seonghwa’s words caught San offguard.

“What about you, Wooyoung? Yeosang?”

“Just the basics, but I don’t know to what extent.” Wooyoung shook his head.

Yeosang nodded. “It’s the same for me, hyung.”

San felt his heart lurch as his mind jumped to conclusions. How bad was the news, to the point where such questions were being asked?

Seonghwa hummed in understanding. He then turned towards an opened laptop on the head of the table, occasionally typing and clicking as he spoke. “There’s something that I have to show all of you. We’re going to go through this together first.”

Seonghwa moved the mouse, pointer finger hovering over it. But before he could do so, he hesitated. “Before you react, please remember that articles like this are written to provoke people.”

For a few seconds, nothing happened. San, Wooyoung, and Yeosang waited with bated breath, the tension in the room palpable. Seonghwa seemed to have made his decision, clicking on the mouse with a little more force than necessary.

An article popped up on the projector behind him soon after.

“Read this slowly, and take the time to understand it.” Seonghwa added, stepping aside to let the three others read it.

Questions Raised Over Similarities Between Sunny's Latest Novel and Upcoming Drama 'Stars Alight'

Popular fantasy author Sunny, best known for the bestselling Tempest of Oblivion series, is facing scrutiny after apparent similarities were discovered between the latest installment of the franchise, The Fall of Mythria, and the unreleased drama Stars Alight starring the power couple actor Jeong Yunho and idol Song Mingi.

An investigation conducted by this outlet identified several notable overlaps between the two works despite Stars Alight not yet having aired publicly.

Among the similarities observed are:

• A major plotline involving a trusted companion secretly working against the protagonist from within their own faction.
• The recurring symbolic use of a "burning constellation" tied to sacrifice and destiny.
• A climactic rooftop confrontation between the leads during a citywide conflict.

While any one of these elements may be considered a common storytelling trope, the accumulation of multiple similarities has raised questions regarding their origin. Further examination uncovered photographs taken during Author's Alley on December 20, 2025, showing Sunny in the company of Stars Alight cast members Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi. Witnesses report that the three later shared a private meal following the event.

As Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi are directly involved in the production of Stars Alight, the discovery has prompted concerns regarding the possibility of unreleased production information being circulated outside authorized channels. Several industry figures contacted by this outlet declined to comment on the matter. However, one source familiar with drama production described the similarities as "unusual" if no prior access to production materials existed.

Neither Arriba Agency nor Silver Light Entertainment responded to requests for comment prior to publication.

As questions continue to emerge regarding the relationship between the parties involved, this outlet will continue investigating the matter and provide updates as additional information becomes available.

The room fell into a suffocating silence again after everyone had finished reading the article.

Wooyoung was the first to burst. “What the hell is this?! This is fucking obscene!”

He leaned forward sharply, nearly snatching the tablet from the table.

“They’re accusing San because his story contains a rooftop confrontation? A betrayal arc? Those tropes have been common since creative writing was first invented!”

“Wooyoung, calm down.”

“No, seriously how can you ask me to calm down!” he snapped, disbelief bleeding into frustration. “This article’s acting like San committed a federal crime because two stories have symbolism!”

Yeosang, who had been unusually quiet beside him, finally spoke. “…It’s not the similarities they’re relying on.”

Wooyoung frowned. “What?”

Yeosang’s eyes remained fixed on the screen.

“It’s the timing.”

“The photos. The actors. The fact that the drama hasn’t aired yet.” His expression darkened slightly.

“…They’re framing speculation like evidence.”

Wooyoung scoffed haughtily, “Great, even more reason to scorn these scumbags! Bet those fuckers got—”

“—Wooyoung, sit down.”

Silence settled again as Wooyoung plopped back down with an annoyed huff, crossing his arms petulantly.

San stared blankly at the article, though the words barely registered anymore.

Burning constellation.

Rooftop confrontation.

Trusted companion.

His stomach twisted.

“…How would they even know about Stars Alight?” Wooyoung muttered. “Isn’t that stuff confidential?”

No one answered immediately.

And somehow, that silence felt worse.

San’s thoughts spiraled despite himself. Sapporo. The aquarium. Author’s Alley. The restaurant.

He tried replaying every interaction in his head at once, searching for something he might’ve missed. Something careless.

“…Maybe I let too much slip.”

The words slipped out before he realized he’d spoken aloud.

Wooyoung whipped around instantly. “What?”

San swallowed hard, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

“In Sapporo, and in Author’s Alley” he murmured. “Maybe I said something without realizing. Or maybe they saw my drafts or…”

“No.”

Seonghwa’s voice cut cleanly through the room like a knife, firm and quiet.

San finally looked up.

Seonghwa’s expression remained composed, but the tension in his jaw was unmistakable.

“We are not jumping to conclusions based on one article.”

“But hyung, what if I—”

“No.”

This time softer. “You are not going to blame yourself for rumors we haven’t even verified yet.”

The room fell silent again.

San lowered his eyes.

Somehow, that only made the guilt settle heavier in his chest.

A phone vibrated against the table.

Then another.

Wooyoung glanced down at his screen before grimacing. “There’s already repost accounts picking this up. It hasn’t even been a whole day since the article was posted.”

Yeosang checked his own phone next. His expression sharpened almost immediately. “…This spread too fast.”

Seonghwa looked over. “What do you mean?”

“The engagement.” Yeosang frowned slightly as he scrolled. “Multiple large accounts posted it within minutes of each other.”

His brows knit together.

“…This didn’t spread naturally.”

The implication hung heavy in the air.

Wooyoung looked horrified. “You think someone planned this?”

Before Yeosang could answer, another knock sounded outside the meeting room.

The assistant opened the door slightly, visibly tense. “Director Park,” she said carefully. “Silver Light Entertainment has arrived.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.

Seonghwa sighed, posture straightening. “Since this scandal is also tied to their talent, I took the liberty to invite them.” He turned to the assistant. “Let them in.”

The assistant gave a curt nod, immediately complying as she opened the slightly ajar door wider to accommodate the guests.

Jongho entered without a care in the world, only stopping to bow at Seonghwa, give a curt nod to Wooyoung and Yeosang, and shoot his signature gummy smile at San—who responded with a teeth-clenched smile—before taking the seat nearest to the door.

“Wait, you’re part of Silver Light Entertainment?” Yeosang marvelled, eyes wide. Only then did San realize that he was the only person who saw the billboard at Sapporo, thus being the only one to know Jongho’s second job.

Jongho stilled for a brief second, before regaining his composure. “Who did you think I was, Yunho hyung and Mingi hyung’s chaperone?”

“My bad, we don’t really keep up with stuff like that.” Wooyoung admitted with a sigh, raising both arms in a sign of defeat. “We’re not really on the…normal side of the internet.”

Yunho and Mingi soon went in the meeting room as well, greeting the others with poise albeit rather strained. They must be concerned about the scandal too, San thought.

They took the two seats beside Jongho, leaving the seat closest to the screen. Before San could speculate who the last person might be—

“Hongjoong hyung?!”

San, Wooyoung, and Yeosang exclaimed—surprise apparent in their expressions. The shock was enough to momentarily halt San’s spiral into despair.

“Wait—you mean to tell me that Hongjoongie-hyung, our Joongie-hyung, is the ringleader of Silver Light Entertainment?! The same hyung that got so wasted at karaoke night last week he puked all over Yeosangie’s new jacket?!” Wooyoung sputtered, appalled by the revelation.

Yeosang shook his head and sighed dissapointedly, “That was a very dark moment in my life.”

“Wait, you managed to get Hongjoong hyung to hop in on some karaoke?!” Mingi gasped, right hand covering his mouth in a dramatic sign of surprise. “Spill! How’d you do it?”

“Oh, you know—lover perks.” Wooyoung grinned mischievously.

“I think we’re missing the point here.” Jongho deadpanned.

Yunho raised his eyebrow. “….The scandal?”

“No,” Jongho smirked. “How you lot didn’t even know that Hongjoong hyung is our boss, when he’s your boss’ fiancé.”

“Hey, I don’t think about doing background checks on my boss’ potential husbands, Seonghwa hyung can love whoever he wants!” Wooyoung huffed.

“Maybe you should keep up with the news instead of sticking your nose in books 24/7.”

“This is what I do for a living, dude. I have to keep doing it whether I like it or not!”

San let the ramblings of his friends fade into the background. From his peripheral, San saw Hongjoong about to interrupt the petty debate currently ongoing, but Seonghwa held him back with a soft grip on his wrist and a shake of his head. He whispered something in Hongjoong’s ear, causing the other to nod with a sigh.

It seemed that Hongjoong was only able to hold his patience for a while, however, as he addressed the room with a hint of annoyance. “Although this has been very entertaining, I believe we have more pressing matters to discuss.”

The conference room felt noticeably smaller now, as a tense silence filled the room once more—everyone had been brought back to reality as if splashed by cold water.

San sat stiffly between Wooyoung and Yeosang, resisting the urge to stare at the polished table.

Across from him sat Hongjoong.

Yunho.

Mingi.

Jongho.

All of them unusually serious.

A tablet rested in the center of the table, displaying the article.

Nobody looked particularly happy to be sharing oxygen.

Hongjoong broke the silence first. "Before we discuss responses, I need complete honesty from everyone involved."

His gaze swept across the room.

"Did any information regarding Stars Alight leave production?"

Yunho answered immediately.

"No."

Mingi nodded.

"Same here."

Hongjoong didn't react.

Instead, he turned toward San.

"And did any production details reach you before publication?"

The room went still.

San hated that question.

Not because it was unfair.

Because it had to be asked.

"No."

His voice came out quieter than intended. "I've never seen a script."

Hongjoong held his gaze for a moment longer, assessing and calculating. Under the older’s gaze, San felt as if he was laid bare in front of him.

Hongjoong nodded once.

"Good."

Wooyoung frowned.

"Good?"

Hongjoong turned.

"If someone was lying, I'd rather find out now than after the next article."

The room chilled instantly.

"Joong.” Seonghwa's voice was calm.

Dangerously calm.

"Watch your wording."

Hongjoong didn't back down.

"I'm being realistic."

"And I'm telling you my staff isn't the enemy."

"There are three careers attached to this scandal, and two of them are under my care." Hongjoong folded his arms. "Being realistic isn't the same thing as being cruel, or slandering."

Seonghwa's jaw tightened.

"And being realistic doesn’t mean that you have to treat everyone involved like potential suspects.”

Hongjoong leaned forward slightly. "The article specifically implies a leak." His finger tapped the screen. "If we're going to dismantle the accusation, we first need to understand where it came from."

"And we'll do that." Seonghwa replied.

"But not by interrogating the people we're supposed to be protecting."

The room fell silent.

San suddenly wished the floor would open.

Because now they were arguing about him.

Again.

"Can we not do this?" Yunho finally spoke.

Everyone turned.

His expression remained composed.

But only barely.

"San's been getting attacked even before he stepped into this room." His voice was measured.

"Maybe let's not make him defend himself in this room too."

A flicker crossed Hongjoong's face.

Not guilt.

Something closer to realization.

Before he could answer—

Mingi slammed both palms onto the table.

Everyone jumped.

"Thank you, Yun! This is why I love you!"

"Mingi."

"Sorry."

He wasn't sorry.

Mingi pointed at the article. "This…thing literally accuses three people of career suicide and somehow we're already acting like we're acknowledging this bullshit, when none of this is even true!"

Jongho spoke up, casually leaning back. "To be fair."

Everyone groaned.

"Historically speaking, Mingi would absolutely leak a script by accident."

"Yah! That’s a lie and you know it!"

"See?" Jongho shrugged. "That's a more believable headline."

Even Yeosang snorted.

The tension cracked.

Just a little.

Not enough to disappear, but enough that everyone could breathe again.

Then Hongjoong exhaled.

Slowly.

"...Fine." He rubbed his temple. "I'll rephrase."

Hongjoong shifted his gaze to San. "I believe you."

San looked up.

"But belief isn't a strategy."

The room fell silent.

Hongjoong continued, "Our job is to find every fact that supports the truth, every inconsistency in their claims, and every question they can't answer."

"That's how we protect all of you."

Hongjoong snapped his fingers. “Now that all the sappy stuff’s over, it’s time to get back to business. Let’s start from the beginning and identify every point where the article could have gotten its narrative from, starting from your first meeting.”

Sensing what his fiancé had planned to do, Seonghwa pulled a whiteboard in the corner of the room and grabbed a marker. “I’ll write everything down, so just focus on retelling.” He nodded at everyone, but smiled at Hongjoong, who shot a fond grin in response.

“Eugh, gross. Keep that stuff for when we can’t see it, will ya?” Wooyoung playfully grimaced. “But to answer your question, three weeks ago, I decided to take Sannie and Yeosangie to Sapporo on an impromptu vacation, because Sannie was going through a slump.”

“That’s what the emails about ‘getting some fresh air’ were about?” Seonghwa muttered to himself as he wrote 3 WEEKS AGO and SAPPORO on the board, yet everyone could hear it.

“We met Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho when we were visiting Maruyama Zoo.” Yeosang noted. “From then on, we were together.”

“Yep! This was when we all took that break after my world tour, hyung.” Mingi nodded, turning to Hongjoong as he spoke, the older humming briefly as he processed the information.

“In the evening, we decided to return back to our respective hotels, only to realize that we’d booked the same hotel. Because of that, we decided to walk back together. We didn’t go anywhere else that day” Yunho continued, hands on his chin as he tried to remember the day’s events.

“I remember that! Honestly, what were the odds that we’d pick the same hotel?” Wooyoung chortled.

Jongho pretended to think before rebutting. “Yeah, what were the odds that we’d pick the only five star hotel near the area with consistently good reviews and a reasonable price?”

Wooyoung let out a disgruntled Yah! In response.

“And none of you went out or did anything else?” Hongjoong pressed. He was met with resounding nos from the group.

Seonghwa dutifully noted everything they had said. “Okay…what about the next day?”

“Well, for the next day we spent the morning in the hotel, before heading out to the aquarium at noon. We spent a couple hours there.” Yeosang recounted.

“Sounds nice.” Seonghwa acknowledged. “Did anything happen while you were there?”

“Actually, something did happen while we were there.” Jongho replied. “Some reporters were there, they were snapping photos. San-hyung approached them and managed to convince them to stop following us.”

At Jongho’s words, everyone turned to San.

“…San?”

No response.

“San!”

San jolted visibly as he was shaken out of his stupor. When he came to be, he noticed that everyone had stopped the discussion to stare at him. “Ah, sorry hyung, what were you saying?”

Seonghwa coaxed patiently. “We heard something about you encountering some reporters?”

San stilled unnaturally. After a few moments, he flinched before explaining with eyes downcast and hands fidgeting. “Oh—uh, yeah. Some reporters were there to take photos and videos of me, but I managed to talk them into deleting all the footage they had with the condition that we took a group photo.”

“…That is quite alarming,” Seonghwa stilled for a moment before writing the words SURPRISE ENCOUNTER WITH REPORTERS. “Thank you for telling us, San.” He added a moment later, eyes filled with warmth.

San awkwardly nodded, “Ah, no problem…”

“Let’s just take note of it first and come back to it later.” Hongjoong decided, “what happened after?”

“We went to some discreet onsen to chill, before going to a nearby festival.” Yeosang shrugged. “After that we went back to the hotel and immediately headed to the airport on the next day.”

Jongho raised his hand. “Does the hotel rooftop count as ‘going outside’?”

“No?” Hongjoong answered with a confused look on his face. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, nothing. Don’t mind me hyung, just thinking.” Jongho crossed his arms, winking at San. San looked up from where he was seated, surprised that Jongho would ask something like that.

He smiled back nevertheless.

“Okay…” Hongjoong nodded as he looked at the two suspiciously.

“Then came Author’s Alley.” Seonghwa prodded.

“Then came Author’s Alley.” Mingi nodded. “Yunho and I went to meet my favourite author Sunny—who would’ve known Sannie is actually Sunny! We did notice some people looking, but they didn’t do anything suspicious.”

Seonghwa quickly jotted down WITNESSES on the board with his neat scrawl.

Yunho glanced at San, but when he noticed the younger was in no right mind to answer, he continued. “We then went to grab some lunch at a nearby restaurant before taking San back to the venue. We stayed there a little longer and helped with closing before going our separate ways.”

“That must be the ‘private meal’ they were referring to in the article, then.” Hongjoong deduced.

A tense moment of silence passed, before Seonghwa stepped back from the whiteboard, the marker lowering to his side.

3 WEEKS AGO

SAPPORO

• Maruyama Zoo
• Hotel
• Aquarium (surprise encounter with reporters)
• Onsen
• Festival

↓

YESTERDAY

AUTHOR'S ALLEY

↓

TODAY

The room fell quiet.

Hongjoong folded his arms as he stared at the board for a long moment. "...That's it?"

"That's everything." Yunho nodded.

"..."

"...You really only spent three days together."

"Two and a half," Mingi corrected absentmindedly.

Hongjoong let out a slow breath. "And now the country's convinced you've been secretly exchanging scripts for weeks."

Nobody laughed.

San found himself staring at the words Maruyama Zoo.

A lion had sneezed that day. The saliva droplets went everywhere—some landing onto Yeosang, who rapidly batted his hands with a grimace as he tried to shake the slobber off. He only stopped when a polite woman saw him fretting and wordlessly handed him a wet wipe.

Wooyoung had laughed so hard he'd nearly fallen over the railing. If San didn’t catch him, he would’ve fallen right into the enclosure infront of the dozens of people there at the zoo. He said right after that his heart had beat faster than any evaluation session could ever make him, and if his heart beat even faster he would’ve gone into cardiac arrest.

Mingi had somehow convinced a toddler that Yunho worked at the zoo. The toddler looked amazed, asking Yunho about questions about his life working at the zoo. Yunho must’ve felt obligated to keep up appearances, because he made up grandiose stories on the spot. Everyone was none the wiser.

...

Why was he remembering that?

His fingers tightened around his phone.

"The article's already been translated overseas."

San blinked.

When had Hongjoong started talking again?

"...International fan communities picked it up around three this morning."

"..."

"Entertainment pages are reposting it."

"..."

"Publishing forums too."

The words blurred together.

International.

Publishing.

Statements.

Contracts.

Lawyers.

They bounced around the room without meaning, overlapping until they became nothing more than noise.

The room fell into another heavy silence.

The whiteboard now stood crowded with dates, locations, and hastily scribbled notes.

SAPPORO.

AQUARIUM.

AUTHOR'S ALLEY.

TODAY.

San couldn't stop staring at it.

Just a week ago, those words had been memories.

Now they looked like evidence.

"...Legal wants copies of every manuscript revision you've made over the last year."

San blinked.

Seonghwa lowered his phone after ending yet another call.

"They'll also need any planning notes. Drafts. Even abandoned versions."

Hongjoong nodded in agreement.

"My legal team is requesting the same. We need everything documented before someone else gets their hands on it."

"...Alright."

The word slipped out of San's mouth automatically.

He wasn't even sure if anyone had asked him a question.

A phone vibrated.

Then another.

Then another.

The conference table seemed to buzz endlessly.

Seonghwa frowned at another notification. "The reporters are still outside."

"My PR director says the story's climbing the trending page again." Hongjoong rubbed at his temple.

"Publishing forums have started picking it up too," Yeosang added quietly.

Wooyoung frowned at his laptop. "...People are already making compilation posts."

"They're moving fast," Yunho muttered.

"They always do," Hongjoong replied.

The conversation continued.

San couldn't.

The voices slowly dissolved into scattered fragments.

Legal.

Evidence.

Drafts.

Statements.

Contracts.

Trending.

Investigation.

His fingers tightened around his phone until his knuckles turned white.

"...San?"

He looked up.

Everyone was staring at him.

Hongjoong's expression softened.

"I asked whether your handwritten planning notebook still exists."

San opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Notebook?

Planning?

He knew the answer.

He couldn't remember the question.

"...Sorry."

His voice barely rose above a whisper.

"...Could you repeat that?"

Nobody teased him.

Nobody smiled.

Hongjoong repeated the question, slower this time.

San swallowed hard.

"...Yeah."

"...I still have it."

"Good."

Another vibration.

Another notification.

Another reminder that somewhere outside this room, the world wasn't waiting for them to catch up.

Seonghwa set his phone face-down. "They're asking if we'll be releasing a statement this afternoon."

"We won't," Hongjoong answered immediately.

"We don't even know what we're responding to yet."

Silence settled over the room again.

It should've felt peaceful.

Instead, it made every tiny sound impossibly loud.

The hum of the air conditioner.

Someone shifting in their chair.

The faint squeak of Seonghwa's marker as he underlined today's date.

San's breathing.

Too fast.

Too shallow.

He lowered his gaze to the table.

Just breathe.

He inhaled.

Nothing changed.

He tried again.

His chest felt impossibly tight.

As if the room itself had shrunk without anyone noticing.

"...San?"

This time it was Yunho.

Gentle.

Careful.

San stood so abruptly that his chair scraped harshly across the floor.

Everyone startled.

"I..."

His voice cracked.

He tried again.

"...Excuse me."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and hurried out.

The conference room door swung shut behind him.

He only made it as far as the restroom.

The restroom was empty.

San staggered to the sink and gripped its edge until the porcelain cut into his palms. Air hit him wrong—short, serrated pulls, like dragging breath through a narrow straw. His chest beat too fast; he could feel his heart slamming against his ribs in frantic double-taps. Sweat prickled across his forehead and down the back of his neck. Each exhale felt stolen away as soon as it left his mouth.

His vision smeared into watercolor at the edges. The fluorescent light turned grainy; the hum tunneled into a high, insistent whine behind his ears. A metallic taste coated the back of his tongue.

Get it together.

You're fine. You're fine.

His fingers trembled; the words shook with them.

You're not fine.

The thought struck like a dropped stone, and the pond of his mind roiled with what-ifs.

What if they were right?

What if everyone believed them?

What if I really destroy everyone?

What if—

—His knees failed and he slid down the cabinet face-first, forehead pressed into sweating palms. The sink anchor scraped along his skin. Pain rolled through his chest in tight wires; pins and needles chased each other down his fingertips until his hands buzzed with numbness. He felt oddly cold in the core and hot everywhere else, like a fever he couldn't name.

A soft knock at the door. He didn't answer.

Another knock. The latch clicked; the door eased open. Jongho slipped in and shut it with a careful hand. He didn't approach too close. He didn't say anything loud. He moved like someone who understood that silence could hold more than words.

San's breathing was a ragged percussion. The pulse throbbing in his throat was loud enough to count: one-two, one-two—fast, uneven. He thought he might pass out. He thought he might vomit. He thought worst of all—he might be exactly the person they accused him of being.

"…Go away," he managed, voice raw.

Jongho ignored the dismissal. He sat against the opposite wall, leaving a deliberate space—near but not invasive. For a long time, nobody spoke. The only sounds were the scrape of his own shirt when he shifted and the brittle tick of the fluorescent light.

Then Jongho reached into his pocket and produced something that flashed: a foil-wrapped mint. He didn't offer it like aid or instruction. He placed it on the floor between them with a small, unobtrusive clink.

San stared at it through watery eyes.

"...What's this supposed to do?"

Jongho shrugged.

"Nothing."

"..."

"...I just figured you could use something to focus on besides your thoughts."

San stared. His hands still trembled when he reached out, but his fingers found the foil and felt the cool bite of metal. He rolled it between thumb and forefinger, a tiny, repetitive motion that tethered the buzzing in his limbs. A weak peppermint scent ghosted free when the wrapper cracked a hair. For a breath—just one—his inhales lengthened by a fraction. His pulse thinned from a frantic scrap to something less jagged. The pins-and-needles back of his hand softened to a residual tingling.

He didn't unwrap it. He didn't need to. The mint gave his nervous system a focal point: cold foil, crinkle under nail, the thought of a tiny burst of freshness somewhere ahead. The storm inside him lost some of its edges.

Jongho watched without speaking. He didn't say You're okay, or It'll be fine. He simply was—an unmoving presence that demanded nothing.

San let out a ragged, laugh-shaped breath. "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said," he croaked.

"I know," Jongho said, flat and small, like pulling a thread taut and letting it sit there. It was exactly the wrong thing to say, and exactly what San needed. The sound steadied him further.

When he finally let go of the sink, the sting on his palm punched through the fog. The porcelain had cut him where his grip had been the tightest; a thin red line darkened the skin. He blinked at it like it belonged to someone else.

Jongho watched the slow bead of blood and shifted, just enough. He came back with a small antiseptic wipe already pinched between two fingers. No fanfare. No fuss. He knelt on one knee without getting close enough to make San flinch, and held out the wipe like an offering.

"Hold still," Jongho said, neutral and accurate.

San's hand shook when he extended it. The antiseptic smelled sharp—alcohol and something medicinal—and it sent a hot sting across the nick. He hissed; his body jumped in a way that felt too big for the small cut. Jongho worked quickly: dab, press, peel back the wipe, then slip a sterile pad into place. He wrapped a thin strip of tape with efficient fingers. All of it was functional; all of it felt like permission. Jongho kept his distance; even the act of treating him respected the quiet boundary between them.

"Thanks," San muttered, surprised at how small the word felt. He didn't know if he was thanking Jongho for the first-aid or for the fact he'd stayed without asking anything in return.

Jongho gave the ghost of a shrug. "Don't turn it into a soap opera.” He said, the tone flat but not cruel.

San almost laughed, accidental and raw. He flexed his palm; the bandage stuck like a promise. Jongho rose, slid the little first-aid kit back into his pocket, and for a beat looked down at San with something that might have been worry, or something gentler—concern, folded tight.

"I'll wait out here," Jongho said finally. "You good?"

San swallowed. "Yeah."

The word was paper-thin. Jongho's shoulders relaxed a fraction. He didn't touch him. He didn't say more. He left the doorway open when he stepped out, like a book saved to come back to.

San sat back on the cabinet and stared at his bandaged hand until the fluorescent light stopped stinging. He rolled the mint foil between his fingers again, letting the crinkle be a metronome against the aftershock of adrenaline. The hallway beyond the doorway felt far away, though he could hear muffled voices and a distant slam.

The sudden thud of the bathroom door made his head snap up. Yunho's voice—noising like a straight line of worry—petered into the room. "San?" The syllable broke on the edge of panic.

Yunho came in like weather: abrupt, warm, a personal storm. He took him in at once—San's crouched shape, the bandage, the way San's breath still hitched on long exhalations—and crossed the tiles in three strides. Before San had time to assemble a reply, Yunho's arms were around him.

It was almost more intimate for being so sudden. Not a theatrical embrace, nothing cinematic—just one body folding over and anchoring another, shoulders pressed, Yunho's face tucked against the side of his head. The contact was immediate heat and steady pressure. San froze, a small animal caught by surprise.

His head filled with a dozen tiny, contradictory thoughts all at once: his pulse ricocheted—he’s warm, and soft….

…Why am I noticing that?

He made no move to push him away. He did not return the hug. Instead he stood there, rigid and soft at once, palms flat against his knees so no one could see how his fingers were curled.

Yunho seemed to finally notice the position they were in, pulling back abruptly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to suddenly hug you.”

San blinked as the warmth he was embraced in disappeared as quickly as Yunho pulled back, leaving the harsh chill of the restroom to envelop his body. “Ah, no, it’s fine…”

Please come back…

…Wait, why did that come to my head?

Even though they weren’t hugging anymore, Yunho still kept his hands busy—one slid under San’s bandaged hand and checked the padding, then cupped the wrist with fingers that smelled faintly of soap and something like mint. "You okay? Did you—was anyone there? Does anything still hurt?" His voice was urgent, each question a small pebble tossed for an answer.

San tried to answer but the words pooled behind his teeth. He found he couldn't think of the scandal, with the rapid fire questions and the arms fussing around him.

Jongho returned at that point, stepping into the doorway with a cup of coffee that San assumes he must’ve nabbed from the office pantry—a small, practical motion. He paused on the threshold and registered the hug with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. He didn't step in, he left the pair that close and put the bottle on the sink with a soft clack.

"He's fine," Jongho said to no one and everyone. "I cleaned it."

“I also stole some coffee from the pantry, hope you don’t mind.” He adds, confirming San’s suspicions as he sips on a mug of his own. “It’s for you, so keep it out of my tab, will you?”

San couldn’t help but let out an involuntary scoff at that.

"Nice, thanks Jjong." Yunho answered for him, grabbing the coffee and handing it to San, who gratefully accepted it with both hands.

He spoke again, this time softer. "Don't scare me like that.”

San wanted to protest; instead he let out a short laugh that felt like a breath finally finding its shape. The laugh turned the corner into something tender and more personal. Up close, Yunho's eyes were wet and overly earnest, and San had to work to keep his face from betraying whatever heat flared there.

"Thanks," San said again, and this time it was warmer. He set his bandaged hand against Yunho's palm by reflex—an accidental press that lingered. Yunho squeezed back, quick and possessive and bright with relief.

Jongho gave a small, almost-gruff, satisfied noise. "I'm leaving. I’m gonna make sure I’m there if Hongjoong-hyung decides to have a lover’s spat with your boss—I need some good entertainment," he said, businesslike. "Call me if you need anything else." He didn't wait for permission; he had already started toward the door.

"Wait," San said before he meant to. The word surprised him because it came from a place he couldn't map. "Thanks." More specific than before: thank you for staying, for the kit, for the way you sat there like you didn't expect anything in return.

“And…spill all the details if they do fight.” San said, in an attempt to make a lighthearted mood.

Jongho looked at him, shock filling his expression before he softened for a sliver of time. "Don't do anything reckless," he said, so low San almost missed it. "And don't tell anyone I'm the one who patched you up." The attempt at teasing was thin but genuine. It landed on San like a small, important thing.

San laughed, a tiny thing that made Yunho grin. Jongho stepped out, closed the door with the same soft click he'd used before, and left them in the small island of bathroom light.

For a long minute after the door shut, Yunho held him at arm's length, foreheads almost touching. "Talk to me," Yunho whispered. "Tell me what happened."

San thought of the black car coming to escort him to the office, the disastrous reveal of the article that set it all off, the sudden entrance of Silver Light, and the tense discussion that came afterwards. He thought of Jongho sitting against a far wall and doing nothing more than occupying space; of Jongho's quiet; of the way he’d handled the scene like a person who trusted humans to be okay without performances. And he thought of Yunho, who despite not needing to, barged into the bathroom in search for San to comfort him.

Yunho, who was sitting right in front of him as he patiently waited for San to respond, as if they had all the time in the world.

He swallowed. "It...it's complicated," he said. The words were true and also not true enough.

Yunho didn't press for sentences. Instead, he rested his forehead against San’s, a private punctuation. It made San feel something—something that he couldn’t categorize or describe. He wanted to narrate his feelings like a sane person, but instead he hiccupped out another laugh and tucked his bandaged hand into Yunho's.

"Stay with me?" he asked after a second, surprised at his own need.

Yunho answered with a half-smile that was all claim and all comfort. "Yeah," he said, and then he wrapped an arm around San again, this time slower, more deliberate—but still small and not dramatic, because both of them had the muscle memory of restraint.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

They stayed like that until the fluorescent hum softened into something tolerable. Outside the door the world continued to spin scandal and rumor, but inside that lit tile box, with a bandaged hand and two kinds of quiet guardianship, San let himself be held without deciding what it meant. The warmth was confusing and right and not yet a label.

When they finally stood to leave, Yunho offered his shoulder and San accepted it like a lifeline. Jongho was at the corridor corner, halfway between leaving and staying. He gave San one last look—an unreadable expression—and then walked away without another word.

San watched him go. He felt gratitude like a small weight in his chest and something else, sharper and unnamed, that left him both bewildered and oddly electric. He stuffed the feelings down into the same small box he'd used for panic, mint foil, and embarrassment, and walked out into the hallway with Yunho holding his arm.

Back in the meeting room, the conversation had already paused before San realized he'd pushed the door open. Six pairs of eyes swung toward him like a single animal, and for a heartbeat nobody spoke. He shifted under their attention, fingers tightening around his hoodie sleeve. "Sorry for storming out like that," he murmured. "I…”

His voice trailed off.

"...I'm okay now." He added with more conviction

Wooyoung was the first to move, breaking the awkwardness. "You absolute idiot."

San blinked.

Before he could respond, Wooyoung marched across the room and smacked him lightly on the shoulder—a quick, affectionate smack that was more alarm than anger.

"You scared the life out of us." The reprimand landed gruffly, but his fingers lingered on San's shoulder for a breath before he stepped back, and the threat in his tone softened into concern.

"...Sorry."

"You'd better be." Wooyoung's hands lingered for half a second on San's shoulder before he stepped away again.

"You can't just disappear during an emergency meeting."

Across the room, Mingi let out a breath so dramatic it bordered on theatrical.

Mingi dramatized the relief for everyone, flopping against the table with a ridiculous sigh. "Oh thank goodness. I was already rehearsing my prison speech," he announced.

Wooyoung frowned.

"...Prison speech?"

"You know."

Mingi shrugged. "'Your honor, I simply punched one journalist.'"

"You would've punched all of them."

"True."

The exchange was small and silly, exactly the thing that let the tension crack, and the room let out a few reluctant laughs. Even Seonghwa's lips twitched.

San let the levity wash over him and almost believed for a moment that things would uncoil back to normal. He started to apologize again. “Still, I’m so—”

"No."

The reply came unexpectedly.

Hongjoong.

Everyone turned to look at him.

Hongjoong rested both forearms on the table, fingers loosely folded together. His expression remained composed and professional as he exuded charisma—he had the kind of face that could negotiate contracts worth millions.

"...Don't apologize for having a limit."

Then, before anyone could react or respond, he continued. "If anyone here should apologize… it's us. We spent nearly two hours discussing evidence. We forgot that the people affected were in the room with us, and we didn’t think to check on your feelings even once."

The room went still.

Even Seonghwa glanced sideways.

San blinked.

Hongjoong exhaled quietly.

"We won't make that mistake again."

There was no showy speech, no grand apology—just a plain admission, and that made it land harder than any flourish could have. San lowered his head. "Thank you," he said, small and sincere.

A chair shifted softly.

Seonghwa rose without fanfare and walked over. He didn't make a production of it; he simply straightened San's crooked collar with one practiced, efficient motion, hands lingering long enough to smooth the fabric and no longer. "You look like you've been through a washing machine," he said, deadpan.

San let out a weak snort. "...Feels about right."

"There." Seonghwa brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders and stepped back. "Much better."

No hug, no fuss—just his version of checking in, which for them was exactly enough.

"Sit down." he added, stern in tone but not in heart, and San obeyed as if the command were an anchor.

Yeosang slid a bottle of water across the table and pretended to reorganize his papers while avoiding San's eyes. "…Drink," he muttered, then brightened with an awkward attempt at expertise: "Dehydration makes anxiety worse. Or so I've heard." San smiled despite himself and accepted the bottle. Yeosang offered the smallest nod in return.

Yeosang offered another bottle of water to Wooyoung with an unreadable expression on his face. “Here, have some too. You’re gonna die a premature death from dehydration at this rate.”

“Oh, thanks Yeo!” Wooyoung grinned, happily accepting the bottle. From where he was sitting, San could see Yeosang’s expression grow slightly fonder as he started fiddling with his own bottle. San squinted his eyes, what exactly was going on here? But he decided not to mention it.

Across the table, Jongho had slipped back into his original seat and looked as unruffled as ever—calm, composed, like someone who'd simply been out to get a thing and returned with it. If nobody had seen him leave, they would've assumed he hadn't moved. When San glanced over, Jongho's eyes found his for the briefest moment and a single raised eyebrow asked, silently: you good? San nodded the faintest nod. Jongho looked away first, neutral and unobtrusive; Yunho noticed the exchange but didn't interrupt it.

Hongjoong folded his hands together, steadying the mood. "I know today has been...considerably worse than any of us expected."

He glanced directly at San.

"Listen carefully." His tone remained steady. He paced the list of people in the room with a sure hand, tapping the table as if setting stakes instead of reading a report.

"If this meeting ends with nothing else, it will not end with you believing you're facing this alone."

San's head slowly lifted.

Hongjoong looked around the room.

"Eight people with thriving careers walked into this building today. We’ll make sure that all eight can march out of this room with their careers intact, no exceptions."

The room grew impossibly quiet.

Hongjoong leaned back. "I've managed artists through injuries, military enlistments, dating scandals, and contract disputes."

"I've watched careers collapse, and I've watched them recover."

His gaze softened almost imperceptibly.

"This?" He gestured toward the scattered articles. "...This is ugly."

"But it is still just a problem."

"It is not a funeral."

San hadn't realized how tightly he'd been holding his breath until then.

"...Yes, hyung," Mingi answered quietly.

Hongjoong nodded once before looking toward Seonghwa.

"Your turn."

Seonghwa sighed.

"...As you can see, despite our…blossoming relationship, we rarely see eye to eye when it comes to matters regarding work and talent treatment. Although I don’t like agreeing with him,"

Hongjoong smirked.

"I know. You need not look so smug."

"But he's right."

Seonghwa looked directly at San, before looking at the others. "I hired you because I trusted you. For those who work in Arriba, I hired all of you because of this trust, and for those in Silver Light I’m sure Joongie had the same thought in mind when he hired you."

His voice remained calm. "I have seen absolutely nothing today that changes that."

San's eyes stung.

"So, until someone gives me actual evidence...I refuse to give up on any of you."

The room fell silent again.

Wooyoung abruptly sniffed. "...Okay, whoever’s cutting onions reveal yourself! I shall deal with you myself!"

"No one," Yeosang answered.

“Absolutely no one,” Jongho added.

"...Then why am I getting emotional?"

"Because you're dramatic."

"Am not."

"You cried during that dog food commercial."

"The dog found his owner, Yeosang! And we were—what—twelve! I was going through a very rough time in my life."

"It was an advertisement. Also, absolutely nothing happened when we were twelve other than you ignoring classes to stare at the window."

"It was cinema. Such skilled cinematography shouldn’t be wasted on a mere add!"

Another laugh spread around the table.

This one lasted longer.

Long enough for San to actually smile.

Hongjoong interrupted the beautiful scene with a thunk! sound as he slammed his hands on the table. “Okay! Enough of that sappy shit! As much as I yammered all about this meeting ending with nothing happening, I think I’ll actually blow up if we don’t get anything done—so let’s do some research of our own.”

The room collectively groaned.

“We had a good mood going on, Joong.” Seonghwa sighed, smacking Hongjoong on the back rather harshly.

Perhaps this is Seonghwa’s way of retaliating? San thought curiously.

“Way to kill the mood.” Wooyoung chimed.

Hongjoong shook his head in disappointment. “Come on, don’t you know that am—”

“—ple preparation is the key to success.” Yunho recited with a deadpan. “I’m sure that we’re well aware of it by now, considering how much times you’ve repeated that phrase.”

“I could probably repeat it in my sleep by now…” MIngi shuddered, as If the thought of being able to do so was a nightmare in reality.

Hongjoong clapped enthusiastically, ignoring any forms of protest from the others as he articulated. “Social media platforms, news articles, leave no stone unturned!”

“Eugh, buy me a coffee first hyung.” Mingi slouched on the table, Yunho patting him on the arm in consolation with a fond look.

…What was that? San mused as he grabbed his laptop from his totebag and started it, but before he could delve into it any longer—

“—San.” Seonghwa singled out, causing San to stare at him in shock. “You, can pull your work later. Now you should focus on picking yourself back up first.”

San, who had just been caught red-handed, complied. “Uh, okay, thanks hyung.”

“Don’t mention it.” Seonghwa glanced around the room. "Other than that—this goes for everyone by the way—don’t make any public statements. If reporters approach you, direct them to your company. Don't answer questions, don't speculate, and don't try to defend yourselves online."

Wooyoung raised a hand. "So... I shouldn't start arguing with strangers on Twitter?"

"No."

"...Even if they're objectively wrong?"

"Especially then."

"...Fine."

Yeosang leaned over just enough to look at Wooyoung’s screen, "He already started." Yeosang informed the room, hand covering his mouth in a faux whispering position as he looked at everyone.

"Tattletail! I did not."

"You have five draft replies. Each with carefully, curated, creative insults and at least three paragraphs."

"...Those don't count, I didn’t post them yet!"

A few reluctant chuckles circled the room. Even Seonghwa succumbed to the urge to laugh.

San sat quietly, listening. His chest still felt heavy after the bathroom, but it no longer felt impossible to breathe.

Beside him, Jongho reached into the paper bag he'd somehow acquired during the meeting and placed a small chocolate on the table without a word. “Here.”

San looked at it. "...What's this?"

"You look like someone who needs sugar."

“Jongho! Are you trying to take me to an early visit to the dentist?!” San accused dramatically.

Jongho deadpanned. “Yep, this is all part of my masterful plan to incapacitate you so you don’t run yourself ragged again.”

He couldn’t help but let a small smirk through, though.

"Wow, thank you so much.” San quipped, mimicking Jongho’s energy. “I’m sure my dentist will be so proud of you.”

"I’d say ‘don't mention it’, but please do. I need to get some sway within the community somehow."

San couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

A few minutes passed in a comfortable and serene calm as everyone completed their own tasks, the only sounds audible being the clicks and clacks of keyboards and mouses. The moment was broken by Wooyoung, as he froze before muttering. "...Huh."

Nobody looked up, to engrossed in their own business.

"...Guys."

Still nothing.

"…Gentlemen and gentlemen."

Yeosang sighed. "What now?"

"I..." Wooyoung slowly turned his laptop around. "...Think I found a something."

The room immediately stiffened, everyone bracing for the worst. Hongjoong frowned. "Another article?"

"Well, not exactly…"

Everyone leaned forward to see Wooyoung’s screen. The caption read: 'From enemies to lovers in 72 hours?? #JongSan'. On the screen was an edit, to which Wooyoung pressed the play button. Soft, romantic music played out. On each beat, slow-motion clips of San and Jongho at the airport in Sapporo played—Jongho handing out his Kxndle for San to sign, San giving Jongho his gift, and the warm embrace they shared—each from different angles. Each clip was flourished with heart animations, and the pink subtitles of the lyrics somehow managed to stand out despite everything.

The thing that San would argue was the most shocking part of the edit, though, was the fact that the video was able to amass over five hundred thousand likes in the span of eight hours.

When the edit finally ended the room fell absolutely silent.

San blinked once.

Twice.

"...What was that…."

Wooyoung scrolled further with a cheeky grin. "Oh, it gets better."

"'The way Jongho smiled here proves everything!’"

“’The closet was made out of glass. No wonder Jongho didn’t react when he had to shoot a drama with that one actor!’”

"'They're definitely hiding something! I’ve been a fan of Jongho for 3 years and I’ve never seen him act so smitten.'"

“’Love is real, they’ve successfully convinced me so!’”

"'He's so gentle with him.'"

San leaned closer. "...Gentle? Are we in another universe?!"

Jongho deadpanned. "Hey, at least they picked a nice filter. The color grading’s not bad too."

San slowly turned to him. "Out of everything going on with this video, you're choosing to focus on the filter?"

"What can I say? I appreciate good editing." Jongho nodded, looking smug. "They're surprisingly well-tracked."

"Choi Jongho!” piped San, whose face was covered beneath his hands. “You are an absolute nutjob!”

“We live to please.”

“Wait—they covered me in flowers?!” Wooyoung gasped. “How dare they cover us!”

“We are the side cast to the budding romance happening between the main cast, aren’t we?” Yeosang conceded, patting Wooyoung. “Maybe we should just accept that.”

Even Hongjoong let out a short laugh. “Give it twelve hours and it might just cover up the scandal for us.”

"Out of every possible rumor you could’ve gotten..." Seonghwa simply sighed.

San turned to Yunho and Mingi, expecting a comment or a joke from either of them. But when he looked at them, Mingi smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes as he nodded and provided clipped answers. Yunho hid his displeasure better, but his jaw flexed as he slid his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his grip on the pen he was currently holding tightening impossibly.

….Am I missing something here?

Wooyoung was still scrolling. "Oh my god."

"What now?"

"Someone wrote a thirty paragraph analysis on Rxddit analyzing the airport hug and how it’ll change society’s perspective on modern romance!”

San buried his face in his hands. "...I'm accused of plagiarism and people are somehow writing dissertations about a hug."

Jongho glanced over. "Not gonna lie, it was a pretty solid hug."

“Jongho, you narcissist.” San looked up in mock offense. "You hugged me."

"And?"

"You started it! Of course it’s good by your standards!"

"I don't remember asking for historical accuracy."

Wooyoung wheezed so hard he had to clutch Yeosang's shoulder for support. Behind them, Seonghwa and Hongjoong looked close to losing it too.

Yeosang shook his head. "I've officially lost faith in the internet."

"You had faith?"

"...Fair point."

San found himself laughing too. It escaped before he could stop it.

A genuine laugh.

The first one he'd had all day.

The room had finally settled into something resembling productivity.

Half-finished cups of coffee littered the conference table. The whiteboard was now crowded with dates, names, arrows and hastily scribbled notes that only made sense to the people inside the room. They weren’t arguing or joking anymore, they had all fallen into a productive mindset.

Yeosang quietly sorted through screenshots while Jongho cross-referenced timestamps beside him. Wooyoung had somehow claimed three different laptops and was simultaneously refreshing social media, drafting responses, and loudly complaining about internet users.

"I'm telling you, media literacy is dead. The article clearly never said that, and they’re mentioning it—all while citing the article no less!"

"Literacy was never alive," Yeosang replied without looking up. “That’s why the textbooks in libraries are never sold out.”

"...Fair enough."

Across the room, Hongjoong and Seonghwa spoke in hushed voices over a growing stack of legal documents.

"We'll need the server logs."

"I've already requested them."

"And the original manuscript files."

"Already on their way."

Neither of them sounded panicked anymore.

San watched everyone from his seat. He hadn't contributed much since returning from the bathroom. Not because he didn't want to, but because every time he looked around the room someone else had already picked up another piece of the burden—they simply never made him carry anything.

His chest felt strangely light. Despite everything, he felt less lonely. He could even say he felt—

—bzzt bzzt—

—His phone buzzed.

Everyone's did.

Eight identical vibrations echoed across the conference room.

The conversations stopped.

Wooyoung frowned first.

"...Why's everybody looking at their phones?"

Mingi unlocked his screen.

The color drained from his face.

"...Hyung."

Hongjoong looked up immediately.

"What is it?"

Without answering, Mingi turned his phone around.

A newly published article filled the display.

‘EXCLUSIVE: PRIVATE PHOTOS SUGGEST AUTHOR 'SUNNY' MAINTAINED SECRET CONTACT WITH STARS ALIGHT CAST PRIOR TO OFFICIAL COLLABORATION.’

Beneath the headline were the photographs. Photos from the aquarium, restaurant, airport, and even the onsen. The article had every candid shot they'd hoped nobody had taken.

Silence settled over the room once again.

San's stomach dropped.

His fingers instinctively curled against the edge of his chair.

Here we go again.

He lowered his head. "...I'm sor—"

"Don't."

Seonghwa's voice cut through the room before he could finish.

San couldn’t do anything else but stare.

The older man didn't even look up from the article. "You're apologizing for someone else's choices, and I'm getting tired of hearing it."

"...The timing's deliberate." Across the table, Hongjoong exhaled through his nose.

"They waited." Jongho nodded. "They released it after business hours."

"So we couldn't respond immediately," Yeosang finished.

"They're controlling the news cycle." Yunho muttered.

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair. "...Okay."

“Now I'm offended." He cracked his knuckles.

A surprised laugh escaped Mingi. "...You're offended?"

"Have you seen those photos?! They’re horrendous!”

The room stared at him.

"What?"

"I have standards! How dare they take photos of my bad angle in not one, but five of the photos! That’s nearly half of the photos in the articles!"

Even Jongho snorted.

The tension fractured just enough for everyone to breathe again.

Hongjoong stood. "Enough."

Every conversation stopped.

He picked up a marker and drew another thick line beneath the timeline on the whiteboard. "So, they played another card."

Hongjoong added it to the already full whiteboard.

Nobody spoke.

Hongjoong uncapped the marker again. "Our turn."

Without another word, he wrote three new tasks beneath the headline.

VERIFY PHOTO DATES.

IDENTIFY PHOTOGRAPHER.

TRACE ARTICLE SOURCE.

"Jongho."

"I'm on it."

"Yeosang."

"I'll compare metadata."

"Wooyoung."

"I'll see how it's spreading."

"Mingi. Yunho."

"We'll start contacting legal."

Each response came instantly—no hesitation, and no questions. Laptops opened, folders transferred, phones ringing, everyone worked together like gears finally learning how they fit together.

San remained seated.

Watching.

Listening.

Trying to understand when exactly this had stopped feeling like two separate companies and started feeling like something else.

Seonghwa noticed him first.

"You planning on decorating that chair?"

San looked up. "...Huh?"

"You've been staring at us for five minutes."

"...Sorry."

"There it is again." Seonghwa sighed dramatically. "The apologizing."

San sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "...It’s kind of become habit, hyung."

"I noticed."

A small smile tugged at Seonghwa's lips. "So."

He slid a laptop across the table. "Our legal defense needs a complete timeline of The Fall of Mythria."

San looked at the laptop.

Then at Seonghwa.

"...You still want me working on this?"

Seonghwa frowned. "Who else am I supposed to ask? You wrote the book."

Hongjoong folded his arms. "I'd certainly hope the author remembers when he wrote his own book."

A ripple of laughter spread around the room.

San stared at the empty document on the screen.

For the first time all day, nobody was asking him to defend himself.

They were asking him to help.

To contribute.

To fight alongside them, and not behind them.

His fingers slowly settled over the keyboard.

"...Okay."

He drew in a slow breath. "I'll start with the earliest drafts I can find."

Yunho glanced toward him.

Their eyes met for only a second.

He smiled proudly, and the smile stayed with San long after Yunho had looked away.

Mingi bumped San's shoulder lightly as he walked past. "Told you."

"What?"

"We're pretty cool under pressure."

San rolled his eyes. "That's definitely not what happened today. And that’s definitely not something anyone said today."

"No," Mingi admitted with a grin. "But it sounds cooler."

Another laugh.

Another tiny crack in the storm.

Outside, headlines continued multiplying by the second.

Notifications refused to stop.

Tomorrow would almost certainly be worse.

But inside the conference room...

Eight laptops opened almost in unison.

Eight chairs scraped against the floor.

Eight people leaned toward the same table.

The scandal had only just begun.

So had they.