After Yeon Yu-jin shut the door and disappeared into his room, a heavy silence settled over the dorm’s living room and kitchen—too heavy to endure.
Their faces, previously contorted with anger and accusations directed at Yeon Yu-jin, were now clouded with unease. It was the youngest of the group, Cha Si-yoon, who broke the suffocating silence first.
“…I think we might’ve gone too far with Yu-jin hyung.”
He addressed the group’s leader, Ra Ho-yeon. Ra Ho-yeon had been the loudest and most furious toward Yeon Yu-jin earlier.
At Cha Si-yoon’s words, both Shin Tae-boem and Seo Yoon-chae turned their attention toward Ho-yeon as well.
Still sulking after the heated argument with Yeon Yu-jin, Ra Ho-yeon mumbled with his chin propped up on the kitchen table.
“…So you’re saying I was in the wrong?”
As leader, Ra Ho-yeon had always carried a heavy sense of responsibility and tried to act accordingly.
That’s why Yeon Yu-jin, who never seemed to fit in and floated like oil on water, had always rubbed him the wrong way.
What mattered most to Ho-yeon was debuting—and keeping the team alive.
Despite his princely looks, Ra Ho-yeon came from an ordinary background.
Even though he’d Awakened as an A-rank Esper, he’d chosen not to use that edge to become a Hunter. Instead, he’d bet everything on becoming the singer he dreamed of being—and for that, he had to prove himself with results. To show the world he hadn’t made the wrong choice.
That sense of duty, obligation, and need for proof had weighed heavily on his shoulders. And in that process, he’d decided to leave Yeon Yu-jin behind.
No—he had left him behind.
But when Yeon Yu-jin changed after waking up, he took it back. He hoped they could walk forward together as members of the same group.
Maybe this time… all five of us could shine under the name Secreti.
Maybe that’s why. Ho-yeon had started keeping a close eye on Yu-jin, hoping he wouldn’t revert to his old self. Back to being that insufferable, unlikable mess.
As long as things just stayed like this… just like this…
What happened earlier had stemmed from that anxiety.
The “new” Yu-jin, who had changed so drastically, felt like he was hiding something. Especially during combat—when he moved far too naturally, too comfortably, in battle against monsters.
They’d let it slide at the time, but Ho-yeon had been secretly afraid.
That maybe Yeon Yu-jin would end up leaving for good—living as a Guide for the Bureau of Awakened Ability Users or some private guild.
That’s why, when Yu-jin was officially rated a C-rank Guide, Ho-yeon had felt quietly relieved. Yu-jin himself had seemed relieved, too.
And so, a small hope bloomed—maybe Yu-jin wanted to stay with Secreti, just like the rest of them. But that hope shattered the moment Yeon Yu-jin got out of the car without a second’s hesitation and ran, completely focused on something else.
That look on his face—pure elation—they had never seen that before.
To Yeon Yu-jin, Secreti was still not a top priority. And that was what had ignited Ra Ho-yeon’s fury.
“We’re idols—we have to be careful about every single expression, every move we make. If someone like Yeon Yu-jin, whose image hasn’t even recovered yet, goes off and acts on his own like that without permission, then of course he should be called out.”
“…Ho-yeon hyung.”
“I don’t think I was wrong. If anything, wasn’t he the one who overreacted? It was a totally reasonable question to ask—”
Ho-yeon’s voice was rising. But before he could go any further, Shin Tae-boem cut him off.
“No. You went too far this time, Ho-yeon hyung.”
“…What?”
“Yu-jin’s a lonely guy. His parents are gone, and he came up here alone from some far-off countryside. He never really had any friends, either.”
Seo Yoon-chae, who’d been silently listening, joined the conversation.
“Now that you mention it… When Yu-jin was hurt, we were the only ones who visited him. Just us and a few people from the company.”
“……”
“No one else came. No one at all. Even when he was lying there unconscious like he might never wake up.”
Everyone fell silent again, sobered by Yoon-chae’s words. Cha Si-yoon slumped his shoulders like a wet rag and spoke quietly.
“It’s kind of messed up to say this, but… even though we’re in the same group, we never really showed any interest in Yu-jin hyung. We didn’t even notice he was completely falling apart.”
Yeon Yu-jin had been like a lone island adrift in an endless sea. Before he collapsed, and even after.
In Ho-yeon’s ears, Yu-jin’s angry voice echoed back.
“If you were that worried about me, you should’ve paid attention before. You’re only treating me differently now because I’m useful to you again. Am I wrong?”
Was it… our attitude that really changed?
Ho-yeon’s dark eyes trembled.
He couldn’t deny it—because it was true.
If Yu-jin hadn’t changed after waking up—if he were still the same as before—none of them, not even Ho-yeon, would’ve given a damn. In the end, Ho-yeon lowered his head. Behind him, Seo Yoon-chae murmured.
“Maybe he lost his memories because… he wanted to forget how awful his past was.”
Shin Tae-boem nodded slowly.
“It’s possible.”
Cha Si-yoon wore a worried expression.
“Then… doesn’t that mean we just stomped all over Yu-jin hyung’s trauma triggers?”
“……”
At the maknae’s words, everyone went silent, heads bowed like guilty criminals.
Ra Ho-yeon, who had said the cruelest things, felt his heart being pierced again and again.
Now that the anger had cooled and the situation became clearer, he realized just how low he’d sunk.
Romance? Really…?
It could’ve just been that he was happy to see an old friend after such a long time. But Ho-yeon, consumed by anxiety and suspicion that Yu-jin might’ve gone off the rails again, had lashed out. With no proof. Just baseless assumptions.
He’d hurled words like knives—wounds that couldn’t be taken back.
“…Yeah. I was wrong.”
He should’ve known better—as an idol himself. How painful it is to be misunderstood and falsely accused. How deeply it wounds.
“I—we—were too harsh on Yu-jin.”
A wave of bitter regret washed over him. Yu-jin had been right. They had no right to say they cared just because they were on the same team.
Ra Ho-yeon suddenly stood up. The three other Espers looked at him.
“We need to apologize. Before it’s too late.”
Seo Yoon-chae looked up, dazed.
“H-How? He completely shut us out.”
Shin Tae-boem mumbled in a defeated voice.
“Right before he went into his room… I think I saw tears in his eyes. If we push him now, it might just make things worse.”
As if to suggest Yu-jin needed time alone. But Ra Ho-yeon shook his head.
“We can’t wait. We can’t leave him alone anymore. That’s… the only real way we can atone.”
“……”
His words carried a serious weight no one could argue against. Instead, they started helping.
Cha Si-yoon went to the kitchen and returned with a metal chopstick. Handing it to Ho-yeon, he spoke solemnly.
“Hyung. Use this to pick the lock. I bet Yu-jin hyung locked the door—he was really mad.”
The thin metal chopstick gleamed under the bright ceiling light.
“…Thanks. But let’s keep this as a last resort.”
As expected, when Ho-yeon knocked on the door and tried the handle, it wouldn’t budge. Locked.
“…Yeon Yu-jin. I’m sorry. I said too much earlier.”
“……”
“I just want to apologize. Can you come out to the living room for a moment?”
“……”
But despite the sincerity in his voice, silence was all that came from beyond the door. The Secreti members grew increasingly anxious.
“You haven’t eaten dinner yet, right? You must be hungry… I know seeing us probably isn’t easy right now, but… could you just come out for a bit? We’ll make whatever you want for dinner. Just… give us a chance to make things right. Please.”
At Ho-yeon’s plea, the others joined in.
Seo Yoon-chae, Shin Tae-boem, and Cha Si-yoon stood at the door in turn, practically begging.
“We… We messed up. So please, don’t skip dinner.”
“As punishment, we’ll eat nothing but chicken breast and veggies tonight—seriously.”
“No, forget that. If you tell us to starve, we’ll starve. Just… don’t skip your meal, Yu-jin hyung.”
But even after their heartfelt appeals, silence remained behind the door. The members, lingering outside the firmly locked room, leaned in and pressed their ears to it.
“…It’s way too quiet. You think he’s asleep?”
It was a valid point. Honestly, if he’d just shouted at them, they might’ve backed off. But now they were worried. So they resorted to their last resort.
“Pick the lock.”
Finally, Ra Ho-yeon took the chopstick and slid it into the door’s keyhole.
Click.
With a soft sound, the locked door eased open. Inside the dark room, Yeon Yu-jin lay on the bed, eyes closed.
“…Yeon Yu-jin?”
Was he asleep? Cautiously, Ho-yeon reached out and gently shook Yu-jin’s shoulder.
“Ugh…”
Yu-jin only groaned and didn’t get up. Seo Yoon-chae and Shin Tae-boem exchanged uneasy glances.
“He’s sleeping fine—should we really wake him?”
“Maybe we should just leave him be.”
“…Hold on a sec.”
Ho-yeon reached out and placed a hand on Yu-jin’s forehead. Seo Yoon-chae flinched beside him.
“Wh-What are you doing, hyung?”
“When I touched his shoulder earlier, I thought he felt hot.”
“What?”
“…He’s burning up. Like, really burning.”
Ho-yeon pulled his hand back from Yu-jin’s forehead and pressed it to Seo Yoon-chae’s cheek. Yoon-chae jumped.
“Hot! That’s hot!”
The heat coming off him was like touching a ball of fire.
Alarmed, Shin Tae-boem and Cha Si-yoon quickly checked Yu-jin’s forehead as well—and sure enough, it was searing. Their expressions hardened.
Ho-yeon spoke.
“Do we have fever reducers at the dorm? Let’s give him one first.”
