Chapter Text
1:23 AM.
Seo Hojin stumbled as he punched in the door code, having been dragged out for drinks by classmates to celebrate finishing his thesis on time. His face was flushed, and his eyes were bleary as he gazed at the shoe rack on the floor.
"Hyung... I'm home..."
He spoke the words instinctively, only to realize there were no shoes by the entrance. Hojin frowned and looked up at the dark, chilly house. He walked to the bedroom in the middle of the hallway and threw the door open. The room was neat and tidy, yet devoid of the presence he was seeking. Hojin stood there blankly for a moment before slowly making his way to his own room; he set his bag on the desk and pulled out his phone, dialing the single number saved under "Emergency Calls"—without a thought for the time.
Call display: Hyung
He held the phone to his ear, listening to the steady, drawn-out ringing—a sound that seemed endless, almost lulling him toward sleep.
"Huh..."
He started in surprise when the ringing stopped. He didn't lower the phone, keeping it pressed to his ear as he murmured:
"You idiot... if you love working overtime that much, then just don't come home at all!"
His murmur grew into a tone of reproach. He stood motionless in the middle of the room, the phone still against his ear, as if waiting for a response from the other end. He waited for a scolding, a grumbling reminder, or a word of concern and worry. But there was no reply.
...
"..."
...
*Thud!
"Ah!—"
*Crash!!
A sudden, splitting headache struck him like the blow of a hammer; he staggered and bumped into the table, causing it to shake, and hurriedly braced himself against it to keep from falling.
At that very moment, a stream of memories flashed through his mind.
A stage.
Spotlights.
Roaring cheers.
A black-haired man standing amidst four other members. Radiantly brilliant.
It was like a short film of a life playing back in his head—so vivid and real that it made Hojin feel nauseous.
Clamping a hand over his mouth, he rushed out of the room, violently flung open the bathroom door, and collapsed before the toilet, retching uncontrollably. He lost track of time, but Hojin felt as though his insides were churning, threatening to spill out along with the alcohol and snacks he had consumed.
'Fuck... my head hurts so much...'
His vision began to shatter; he saw the ceiling spin upside down before he plunged into total darkness.
...
"Huh!"
Hojin jolted awake, dazed by the lingering aftereffects of the shock. As his senses returned, he realized he had passed out in the bathroom; the chaotic jumble of memories slowly began to sharpen and take clear shape in his mind.
"Damn it... what the hell just happened?"
Running a hand through his hair, Hojin stumbled to his feet and looked for his phone. Realizing it wasn't there, he headed back to the bedroom.
'What the hell was that memory... my brother becoming an idol?'
"Ugh... just thinking about it gives me the creeps..."
Seo Hojin picked up the phone he had dropped. It was nearly 3:30 AM. He scanned the notifications with a sense of disappointment—just a few casual messages from classmates and some spam; there was absolutely no word from the person he was waiting to hear from most.
"Not even a return call... I wonder what the hell is so important..."
Hojin hesitated as he stared at the number on the screen, unsure whether to call. Yet, just ten seconds later, he pressed the call button.
He had barely put the phone to his ear when the call was abruptly disconnected. Confused, he lowered the device and stared, dumbfounded, at the notification displayed before him.
Number does not exist.
A sudden shiver ran through Hojin, creeping over his body like a cold snake. His hands trembled, and his eyes widened in disbelief. He turned back to the keypad and dialed the number again.
The result was the same.
He told himself he must have been too panicked and dialed it wrong.
Number does not exist.
"You've got to be kidding... there must be some kind of mistake..."
Hojin frantically tried everything, repeatedly dialing the sequence of numbers he knew by heart—a number he should never have been able to get wrong.
By the tenth attempt...
Number does not exist.
"What kind of sick joke is this?!"
*Smack!*
He screamed and hurled the phone against the wall; the screen cracked upon impact. The phone fell limply, sliding back to land at his feet. The screen flickered with the wavering message—"Number does not exist"—feeling like a mockery of his very sanity.
Seo Hojin gritted his teeth hard. He threw open the door and rushed into his brother's room; it was empty. Everything was exactly as it had been, yet the person himself was nowhere to be found.
"It has to be some kind of sick joke... his stuff is still right here..."
Seo Hojin clenched his fists, then ran back into the room, grabbed the long puffer jacket he’d worn out for drinks, along with his wallet and his phone—its screen badly cracked—and rushed outside.
He hailed a cab, trying to steady himself as the car took him to the building where his older brother worked.
"I'll be right back; please wait a moment..."
"Alright, make it quick."
Stepping out, he stared blankly at the building, which was still brightly lit. Hojin approached the entrance but was stopped by a security guard.
"Hey, who are you? Do you have an employee ID?"
"No... I... I have a family member who works here... I'm here to see him..."
Hojin panted as he answered, trying to calm the frantic pounding of his heart. The guard made a sound of realization and asked helpfully:
"Oh, really? Who is your family member? Let me call them for you."
Hearing this, Hojin composed himself slightly and spoke.
"Seo Hoyoon... I'm looking for PD Seo Hoyoon."
"Huh... but—"
'Damn it...'
The guard’s gaze turned skeptical as he looked at him. Hojin recalled that his brother had never revealed he had a younger brother, fearing Hojin would suffer due to his own bad reputation.
However, contrary to that assumption...
Just as Hojin was trying to figure out how to explain the situation, the security guard spoke up.
"I'm sorry, I don't know any PD named Seo Hoyoon... Is he a new hire?..."
"What?..."
Hojin felt his ears ringing, and another wave of nausea surged up his throat. Swallowing hard to keep himself composed, he clenched his trembling hands and asked the guard again, trying to maintain as calm a demeanor as possible.
"PD Seo Hoyoon—the one known as the 'Devil PD,' famous for malicious editing—you really don't know him?..."
"Huh? Is there someone like that? I... I honestly don't know. I'm sorry..."
Perhaps noticing the panic in Hojin's eyes, the guard's voice grew hesitant.
That confirmation was like a death sentence for Hojin. He suddenly collapsed and retched violently right there, to the guard's horror. He coughed and gagged, his throat burning, though nothing actually came up.
"Young man! Are you alright?! S...shall I call an ambulance for you?!"
Hojin hurriedly stopped the guard, who looked on the verge of tears as he reached for his phone.
"No... I'm fine. Sorry for the trouble..."
Helped up by the guard, Hojin gave a quick bow and ran back to the car that was still waiting for him.
"Driver... take me back to where we started..."
"Oh... right. But are you alright, young man? What happened? You look so pale..."
"I'm just anemic... please, could you take me back quickly?"
"Alright..."
...
Back at the apartment, Hojin was like a wild beast, frantically tearing through every corner and rummaging through everything.
'A photo... there has to be a photo of him somewhere...'
He ransacked the entire apartment, oblivious to his surroundings as he knocked things over and sent them crashing to the floor. Their kitchen was left in shambles, with every cabinet door flung wide open.
"It's not here..."
His voice choked up, and he felt a stinging heat rise in his eyes. Hojin collapsed onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands; his large palms were soon wet with tears. Then, a memory from earlier suddenly flashed back into his mind with startling clarity, and he jerked his head up.
'Wait a minute... the call was still connected back then...'
A thought—perhaps not entirely rational—crossed his mind.
'Have I lost my mind? ..'
Yeah, it was definitely madness. Thinking his brother had suddenly vanished *because* he had *recalled* that memory—that wasn't normal at all.
Just then, his phone rang. Startled, he glanced at the screen.
'Unknown Number'
A strange flicker of hope ignited in Hojin’s eyes; he answered quickly but didn't dare speak first, simply pressing the phone to his ear and waiting for the other person to break the silence.
"Hello?"
It was the voice of a middle-aged man. Disappointed, Hojin was about to hang up when the man continued.
"Seo Hojin? Are you there? How have you been lately? Living all alone must be tough, huh?"
"What did you just say?..."
He froze, his gaze turning fierce as he stared intently at the ongoing call displayed on his shattered screen.
"I know living alone is hard for you; losing your parents so early was already such a huge disadvantage..."
He didn't reply immediately, waiting for the middle-aged man on the other end to go on.
"But you know, back then I helped you a lot during those difficult times... and lately, I've been in a bit of a bind... I was wondering about the insurance money—"
"You know I'm 'living alone,' yet you still have the nerve to say that?!!"
Overcome by pent-up rage, Hojin could no longer hold back. He screamed into the phone, slammed it onto the table, and then—in a fit of fury—grabbed the glass of water sitting nearby and hurled it against the wall by the TV.
However, Hojin froze when he caught sight of a small compartment beneath a nearby shelf. A thick book with an ivory-white cover was visible inside.
'That's...'
Ignoring the phone—which was still emitting shrill, ghostly static—Hojin rushed straight to the shelf. He shoved aside anything blocking his path to the book; when he finally held it in his hands, he realized it was a small photo album. His family rarely took pictures—Seo Hoyoon especially—yet Hojin let out a soft sigh of relief.
"It's still here..."
Overjoyed, Hojin opened it.
Photos of his parents.
Birthday photos.
Childhood photos.
Then, he came to a page.
There was a blank space.
He frowned.
He turned the page.
Another blank space.
He turned the page again.
The further he went, the more blank spaces there were.
As he flipped to the middle of the album, photos from his infancy up to age ten remained, yet the specific pictures he clearly remembered taking with Seo Hoyoon had vanished completely.
"It can't be... If the other belongings are still here, the photos should be too..."
His phone rang again. He glared at the screen, then paused when he saw the caller ID:
Incoming call: Kang Ichae
Hojin stared blankly at the glowing, incessantly vibrating screen. He picked it up with difficulty but didn't answer immediately; instead, he trudged heavily back to his room, his other hand still clutching the album tightly.
'That... is gone too...'
Hojin gazed listlessly at the photo frame by his bedside; only he remained in the picture, standing there all alone. Finally, he answered the call.
"Ichae?..."
...
The four members rushed out of the restaurant and hailed a taxi.
"Take us to this address."
Ichae held up his phone for the driver to see. Seunghyun leaned forward from the back seat, whispering into Ichae's ear.
"Ichae, do you actually remember hyung's home address?..."
Jung Dajun, sitting right next to him, marveled at this.
"That's amazing. Even though 'it' felt so real, I still couldn't remember all the details."
Jiwon, sitting nearby, simply smiled, though his hands were tightly clasped, betraying his anxiety.
Ichae didn't reply; his gaze was fixed entirely on the passing scenery outside.
No one else spoke, and the silence in the car grew so heavy that the driver kept glancing nervously at the rearview mirror.
After fifteen agonizing minutes, the car pulled up to the apartment building where Seo Hojin lived.
Ichae hurriedly pressed a large-denomination bill into the driver's hand and led the group away. None of them paid any heed to the driver calling out, "You gave me too much!"
They entered the elevator and, guided by the redhead, made their way straight to the apartment. Seunghyun watched in bewilderment as Ichae unhesitatingly punched in the floor number and located the unit; ignoring Seunghyun's gaze, Ichae pressed the doorbell and called out loudly.
"Seo Hojin! Are you in there?"
There was no response. He rang the bell again.
"Seo Hojin! It's Kang Ichae! Are you home?!"
There was still no sign that anyone inside was about to open the door. The youngest member looked on anxiously as his older brother's voice grew increasingly sharp; he glanced around, worried the noise might attract the attention of the neighbors. Dajun suggested:
"Maybe we should just call him..."
"...No need."
*Beep, beep, beep.*
Ichae decisively punched in the front door passcode, ignoring Dajun’s shrill, startled shriek.
*Click.*
The door swung open.
"You knew the passcode? Then why did you bother knocking in the first place?"
"Just for the sake of protocol; I’m a polite guy, after all."
Seunghyun grimaced at Ichae’s innocent smile. That smile, however, faded the moment the scene inside the room was revealed.
The entire apartment was pitch-black; the only illumination came from the hallway light and a faint sliver of early morning sun struggling through the window. The place was in shambles—so chaotic it looked as though a burglar had just ransacked it. Cabinet doors stood wide open, their contents completely emptied out and scattered across the floor. A potted plant had toppled over, spilling soil everywhere. There was a large wet patch on the wall near the TV, and shattered glass lay in fragments at its base.
Ichae was the first to regain his composure; he coolly swept his gaze across the room before looking at the shoe cabinet nearby.
'A pair of shoes... he's still home.'
He stepped inside and began searching room by room. The other three members snapped out of their daze; Seunghyun slowly closed the door, while Jiwon and Dajun went to look for the light switch.
Ichae wandered down the hallway. He glanced into a room with its door wide open; to his surprise, it was incredibly neat and clean—a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Stepping back out, he noticed another door slightly ajar at the far end of the hall. He strode toward it, only to hear the sound of sobbing drifting from within.
He gently pushed the door open; it let out a long, eerie creak. Light spilled into a room that was just as wrecked as the rest of the place. Seo Hojin was sitting on the floor right beside the bed. His head was bowed low, his hands hanging limp, clutching a shattered phone.
"Hojin-hyung?..."
At the sound of his name, Hojin stirred slightly and slowly looked up, his face haggard and streaked with tears.
"Hyung! Did you find Hojin-hyung?!"
Dajun approached but started in surprise when he saw Hojin. Hojin wiped his tears with his sleeve, his deep voice still thick with emotion. Ichae frowned as he looked at the scattered photos from what appeared to be an album lying beside Hojin.
"I'm sorry... I didn't hear you. But how did you know the passcode—"
Before Hojin could finish, Ichae rushed forward and raised his voice.
"Seo Hojin! Tell me—what do you know?!"
"Hy... hyung!!!"
Dajun shouted in alarm, instantly drawing the attention of the two older members.
"Dajun! What's wrong?"
As Seunghyun and Jiwon looked over, they were stunned to see Ichae gripping Hojin tightly by the shoulders. His voice was harsh—far removed from the composed Ichae they knew. Hojin, facing him, looked pale; tear tracks still lingered on his cheeks, and his eyes were wide with shock as he stared at Ichae.
"Ichae! What are you doing?!"
"Tell me! You’ve been having those dreams too, haven't you?!"
A sudden silence fell over the room; a whirlwind of emotions flashed across Hojin's face. He didn't answer; instead, he shook off Ichae's grip on his shoulders.
"Let's go outside and talk..."
"..."
"...Alright."
No one said another word as they stepped out. The lights were on, revealing the living room and kitchen in a state of total disarray.
"...Let's clean up first—just the kitchen for now,"
Seunghyun suggested, and Dajun was the only one to respond.
Ichae, walking at the back of the line, paused in front of a door that was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and peered inside, surprised to find the room spotlessly clean and tidy—unlike the other areas.
"Hyung! What are you doing?"
"...Nothing."
...
After a rough cleanup, Seunghyun, Dajun, and Ichae sat at the dining table, waiting for Jiwon and Hojin to finish making tea. Moments later, the two emerged, carrying the drinks.
"Sorry, I don't usually have guests over; I only managed to find a few tea bags that had fallen on the floor."
Hojin spoke in a flat, monotonous tone, his eyes devoid of warmth or friendliness. Holding his own cup in one hand and two others in the other, he set them down on the table and slid them toward Seunghyun and Ichae.
"Oh... i-it's fine..."
Seunghyun’s eyelid twitched slightly as he hesitated, eyeing the tea; judging by Hojin’s attitude, he was likely questioning whether it was safe to drink.
"It’s not poisoned."
"No! I didn't say anything like that!"
Seunghyun started and hurriedly waved his hands in denial. Dajun, sitting across from him, also took a sip.
"It's so sweet! Do you like sweet tea, Hojin-hyung?"
Hojin’s hand, which had been stirring the tea, faltered slightly.
"...No. Hyung is the only one who likes it this way."
Dajun jumped in surprise; he looked back at his cup, his face falling as he murmured apologetically.
"Ah... I'm sorry..."
Ichae, who was sitting closest to Hojin, lifted his own cup and took a sip.
"How is it?"
Hojin asked abruptly. Startled, Ichae looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"Well... it's alright, I guess?"
Hojin gave a dry, mocking laugh.
"Ha... that's good. I accidentally stepped on your tea packet earlier."
"Huh?"
Seunghyun, sitting beside Ichae, drank his tea with one hand while pinning Ichae’s wrist—veins bulging—firmly against the table with the other. He wondered why he had ever felt at ease letting Ichae and Hojin sit so close to each other.
They sat in silence. By the time their cups were nearly half-empty, Ichae—having completely lost his patience—spoke up first.
"So, can you answer my question now?"
"..."
Hojin glanced up at Ichae briefly before lowering his gaze again.
"I don't know anything."
Ichae slammed his hand onto the table.
"...Then what was that whole mess about?! You realized he was gone too, didn't you?!"
"Ichae!"
"Hyung! Let me handle this; I’m not going to start a fight."
Ichae shot to his feet, glaring at Hojin, who still showed no intention of revealing anything. Unfazed—and not even sparing Ichae a glance—Hojin continued speaking.
"I have no idea what the hell kind of dream you're talking about."
"Then why do you still remember him?"
Hojin’s eyes widened as he looked up; they trembled, as if he had just realized something.
"Oh... so you guys call that 'memory' a dream?"
"What are you talking about?..."
"I suppose so... something that absurd couldn't possibly be real..."
"No... Seo Hojin, what exactly did you see?..."
Hojin slowly turned his gaze toward him, his eyes dark and unfathomable.
"What did I see? I saw the stage lights—I saw him standing there! That stupid 'idol' dream!"
"Hey! You're crossing the line!"
Hojin, on the verge of exploding, grabbed Ichae by the collar.
"So what do you want me to do now?! I came home, drunk and in agony, and told him that if he didn't like coming back, he shouldn't bother anymore! And then he left behind those bizarre memories... and really never came back..."
His voice choked up as he spoke, and tears slowly welled up in his eyes.
"His things are still here, but he’s nowhere to be found! I don't even have a single photo of him! So, what am I supposed to do now?!! He was the only one I had..."
Hojin’s hand trembled as he gripped Ichae’s rumpled collar; his earlier aggression faded, his grip loosened, and his voice grew quieter.
He hung his head, unable to see Ichae’s expression until the younger man grabbed his wrist, squeezing hard enough to force him to look up. Only then did Hojin clearly see the look on his face.
There was no anger or coldness there. He wore a mature air that belied his age, yet his eyes burned with an unfathomable fire of determination.
"Go find him."
"Huh?.."
It wasn't just Hojin; the other members also turned to look at him in astonishment.
"You asked me what you should do, right? Well, I just told you!"
Ichae smirked—a genuinely mischievous smile that made Hojin frown.
"Find what?"
Ichae glanced at Hojin as if looking at an idiot.
"Are you serious? Find your hyung, of course. Or do you not want to anymore?"
"Y-you mean... we can actually find him?!..."
Hojin exclaimed in astonishment; his panicked, bewildered expression—as if he’d just had a bucket of cold water splashed in his face—made Ichae want to laugh, though he merely sighed as he looked at the large man before him.
"He’s the only one you’ve got left, after all; you have to find him, no matter what."
Hojin furrowed his brows, looking dazed, yet a spark of clarity gradually returned to his eyes. Seeing that Hojin had calmed down, the other man seized the moment to tease him.
"Don't want him anymore? Then he's mine~"
The hand that had been loosening its grip on the other's collar suddenly tightened—clamping down even harder than before, as if intent on choking the life out of him.
Watching the tension in the room finally dissipate, Seunghyun felt a weight lift from his shoulders; he let out the deepest sigh of relief he’d breathed all day and slumped heavily into a chair. Dajun, who had been crying at some point, was now being tended to by Jiwon—who was staring blankly at the pair while wiping the boy's nose with a cloth.
Seunghyun glanced at the wall clock in the living room, which was still in a state of disarray.
It was past seven in the morning.
He turned around and looked at everyone in the room.
It was time to get to "work".