Six years after debut, a member vanished without permission.
It was bone-chilling.
The instant the elevator carrying Steer Cha Yujin descended, we sprinted down the stairs—but it was already too late.
Our new dorm sits on a high floor; no matter how fast our reflexes, we couldn’t catch up to an elevator.
And so... at dead of night, the company was thrown into chaos.
“...What?”
From the manager team leader who couldn’t believe it, all the way up to the president’s ears, the news awakened almost every staff member—sending them scouring Seoul like vermin.
Of course, we were no exception.
Ryu Cheong woo’s face was grim as he darted between the security office and our dorm.
“Have they checked the CCTV?”
“They tracked him on foot up to the front gate, then the footage went dark. He probably hailed a taxi...”
“.......”
And to trace that taxi, we’d have to file a missing-person report with the police.
But of course filing a report would be insane—unless we wanted tomorrow morning’s entertainment headlines to preemptively splash “Cha Yujin Missing!” across every news outlet.
‘Fuck.’
I almost bit my tongue in frustration.
I kept my feeds on SNS open, watching for eyewitness posts while I tried to guess where he might go.
‘Last time he bolted during a tour, we found him.’
If you know someone well, you can roughly predict their route.
But...
“.......”
The problem was, we didn’t know him well.
‘Because he’s Steer Cha °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Yujin.’
Right. I’ll admit it.
Before Park Mundae became “Testa,” office worker Ryu Geon woo was intrigued by Steer—he researched him extensively. That’s why in the hospital he’d recognized this Cha Yujin as the same one from Steer’s era.
But that doesn’t mean you know the person.
Everything I know about Steer Cha Yujin has been filtered through the media—idol-related info only. I have no idea what places he personally likes or frequents.
And besides...
“...Well, no one else is saying anything now, so I’ll speak up.”
Big Sejin ruffled his hair and smiled wryly.
“...You know we have a group schedule tomorrow evening, right?”
“.......”
“The event.”
That’s right. Our nearly final domestic group appearance is tomorrow—
A summer festival.
“We announced Yujin’s absence in advance, but if we stay up all night hunting him down and then botch the show... that’s a problem too.”
Exactly.
Our only alternative would be canceling the event entirely... but...
‘Can you salvage a headliner-level act’s cancellation at this scale?’
It’s harsh to say, but events carry different reputations—canceling one has varying fallout.
“And tomorrow’s event is....”
“Waterbomb.”
“.......”
We’re screwed. Fuck.
Canceling at the last minute would leave us roasted.
‘No excuse would fly.’
Once we cancel, it’s guaranteed headlines. Even if we go on without him successfully, if a report surfaces that Yujin—who supposedly skipped due to illness—was spotted fine outside...
Yujin already had a strike on his record for that camera-assault incident. No matter what we did, he’d be dragged through hell online.
‘...What do we do?’
Even I had no damn answer. Other than keep searching.
But morning came—and still no sign of Cha Yujin.
“.......”
Of course, no one got a full night’s rest. Half the team’s still at the office; I, too, welcomed dawn in the living room, bleary-eyed.
I massaged my temples, thoughts spinning.
‘If only the album had flopped a bit more...’
I thought that was the right call at the time, but what about Yujin’s career now? How do we fix this mess?
“.......”
My head hurt.
‘Too much to handle.’
Even if we find Steer Cha Yujin... where do we start with damage control? The company, public opinion, our activities... and what to do with him for the next month?
‘All I can think of is an extreme solution.’
I pressed my eyes shut.
Then—
Plop.
A glass of cold water appeared on the table before me, as if to say, “Drink.”
“.......”
I picked it up and drank. Sitting opposite was Bae Sejin.
Maybe he thought Yujin bolted because of him; Sejin didn’t look any better.
He looked unwell.
“Hyung, we have filming the day after tomorrow... I mean, tomorrow too. Maybe you should rest.”
“I’m fine. I’ve pulled all-nighters for shoots before.”
Sejin replied flatly, then frowned in confusion.
“I just... don’t understand why he’d go this far.”
“.......”
“No matter how many different experiences he’s had in recent years, he’s still Cha Yujin. I never thought he’d do something like this.”
“Something like this.”
Though Yujin seems impulsive, when he senses someone’s in trouble, he knows how to show consideration—without making a big deal of it, just naturally.
‘Sejin must have been shocked hearing him say, “I don’t care what happens to you,” so bluntly.’
True. If you don’t know the backstory, you can’t gauge how stressed Steer Cha Yujin is by this environment. He literally quit being an idol, then we throw him into a month of success? No wonder he snapped.
‘I should’ve handled his mental care better.’
In focusing on getting him through 30 days safely and back to normal, I neglected his emotional welfare.
“.......”
My head felt heavy as silence settled.
“Um.”
A low voice broke the quiet.
“Do you really think that’s the way?”
I looked up to see pale-faced Kim Rae bin, tentatively on the sofa.
“I don’t think Cha Yujin purposely ran off to cause us trouble.”
“...!”
Sejin looked up sharply.
“I wish that were the case—but you heard him. He said it’s none of his business.”
“Yes, but... I don’t think he meant to cause deliberate disruption.”
“Huh?”
“Did Cha Yujin ever say he wanted to harm Testa’s career on purpose?”
“No—but if he doesn’t care, of course he’d end up doing so.”
“.......”
Wait.
I felt like I’d just been slapped—pleasantly.
“Wait a moment.”
“...! Park Mundae?”
“Rae bin’s right.”
Clearing my head, I picked up my phone. It was still silent—no updates on Yujin.
But flipped around, that meant no eyewitness reports either.
Is that possible?
‘He’s been gone over five hours without a car.’
Without a personal vehicle, even with luck... for an idol of Testa’s notoriety to wander the streets without a single sighting? Impossible.
‘Unless he’s deliberately avoiding being seen.’
“Right now, Cha Yujin is moving in ways that avoid being spotted.”
“......!”
“If he’d wanted to blatantly sabotage Testa, he’d be clubbing or something. But he’s not.”
He’s using idol-hardened instincts to dodge prying eyes. Even now, he’s respecting boundaries somehow... I don’t know why.
I absentmindedly recalled his words:
“.......”
‘Could it be... he’s scared?’
Just then, Kim Rae bin raised his hand again.
“Pardon me if this is presumptuous, but...”
“You can speak freely.”
“...Thank you.”
Bin spoke earnestly.
“I think we need to have more conversation with Cha Yujin.”
“......”
Sejin muttered sadly,
“We tried, but it didn’t work.”
“Excuse me? Perhaps I chose too broad a word. What I mean is...”
He searched for precise wording and continued,
“I believe we tried persuasion disguised as conversation. But with no conversation without ulterior motive, we failed to build trust.”
“.......”
“Why... why so?”
“No.”
We both stared at Bin in astonishment—his analysis was razor-sharp, unbelievable for someone thought to lack social intuition.
“...Ahem. You’re right.”
“! Yes. Because we were so worried about him, we couldn’t help but try persuasion.”
I looked at Bin, thinking, ‘He must have wrestled with this deeply.’
His usual reticence now made sense. Despite his confusion, he spoke with conviction.
“I don’t fully know what’s on Cha Yujin’s mind...but I want to know.”
“.......”
I met his gaze and nodded.
“Alright.”
“...!”
“I agree too.”
I want to know what he’s thinking. Since he’s crossed the line, an honest talk seems best.
“Thank you!”
We needed to find him first, though.
“Yes.”
I reopened my phone. Realizing he’s avoiding detection narrowed possible locations: transport methods and destinations.
‘Somewhere an idol would go.’
Sejin nodded.
“In that case... we can narrow it with what we know.”
Focusing on Cha Yujin’s “Ajusa” participation and earlier info. The person who knows him best—makes sense.
“Did Yujin ever frequent any places as a trainee?”
Kim Rae bin answered seriously.
“He preferred crowded spots.”
“.......”
That’s vague.
“Can you be more specific?”
“Scenic outdoor cafes or barbecue restaurants... noisy, open spaces. He tended to choose outdoors over indoors.”
“Oh—that sounds like a place that reminds him of home.”
We honed the range. Then one thought struck:
‘If he wanted to escape, he might go far.’
“Did he ever go outside Seoul as a trainee?”
“Except for his hometown... he did visit the coast once.”
“The coast?”
“In Ganghwado.”
“...!”
My mind clicked.
‘Cha Yujin lived near a beach in San Diego.’
When he bolted on tour, we found him at a seaside cafe.
...and from that variety show he did during Steer’s era, he filmed at Ganghwado.
The Ganghwado beach was Steer’s first variety-show location.
“There.”
“Yes?”
“Let’s search there.”
And two hours later—
“Cha Yujin!”
Steer Cha Yujin meets a friend.
