“...—It could just be simple overwork... but usually, people don’t stay unconscious this long....”
A bad sense of déjà vu hit me.
“...—Still, it would be better to run more tests—.”
It was the same feeling I had near the end of Shining Star Season 2, when I had already sensed failure creeping in.
“......Hojin....”
Like when I abused the system and received penalties, my whole body was drenched in sweat. Seo Hojin lay limp, face red, breathing shallow and rapid.
“...Guardian...!”
My heart pounded like it was attached to my eardrums.
“—Guardian!!”
“...Ah, yes.”
I slowly lifted my head at last. The doctor looked troubled.
“Are you absolutely certain your brother has no chronic illness?”
By the following morning, Hojin’s detailed examinations were done.
“...As far as I know, none.”
The doctor spoke more, but none of it reached me. I just nodded reflexively and left the office.
Outside, my manager approached with a worried look.
“You okay? They just moved your [N O V E L I G H T] brother into a private room.”
“Thanks. I’ll go get some air.”
“Why don’t you go back to the dorm and rest? I’ll stay here.”
“No. I’m fine.”
I pulled down my cap out of habit and wandered until I found a deserted spot. Past a cluster of small trees and a flowerbed, there was a lonely bench. I collapsed onto it and leaned back.
“Maybe I should check around.”
So I checked.
“Just like I shared in my brother’s suffering, maybe someone’s sharing in his burden too.”
All I did was eat tens of thousands of won worth of Hanwoo.
Did that make me feel safe?
‘I let my guard down.’
Something disgusting crawled inside my stomach. Maybe it was just self-loathing.
I pressed my palm against my eyes, then muttered.
“...Was it you?”
I didn’t know how long Hojin had been suffering.
All I knew was that I was the idiot who never noticed.
“Have you been sick for a long time?”
As I growled the words through clenched teeth, a long silence shattered, and a blue light flickered in my vision.
[Even if someone did it, no matter how long, what would it change?]
[What you want, Seo Hoyun, isn’t to know why he’s sick. You want to know how to keep him from suffering again.]
Annoying as it was, the system had struck true, leaving me speechless.
And then another message appeared.
[If you want, I’ll help.]
[But it won’t be easy.]
I scrubbed my face hard with my palm and glared at the words, laughing bitterly.
“You’re fucking awful.”
When was anything ever easy?
I had nowhere left to retreat.
***
The IV needle in his arm proved he was in a hospital.
Opening his eyes to the seagull pattern on the ceiling, Seo Hojin thought the whole thing felt unreal.
He remembered cleaning up a mess caused by juniors, then studying in the department office. He’d been tired, his head aching, when Woo Gyeongun showed up, loud as always. After that, his memory went black, as if sliced away.
‘My body feels lighter though.’
Sitting up and rotating his shoulders, Hojin scratched his head. The constant fevers were gone, the crushing fatigue lifted. He actually felt great.
Clack.
The door opened.
He looked up to see Seo Hoyun, dressed in a linen shirt, thin slacks, and a cap. Black from head to toe like someone had dumped paint over him.
“...Are you the Grim Reaper?”
Hoyun twitched his brow but said nothing. He pushed Hojin back down onto the bed. He must have decided to let it slide since Hojin was still a patient.
“Lie down, idiot.”
“So I’m dying? Is it my time to go?”
“You’re spouting nonsense, so you’re fine.”
It hadn’t been that long since they’d last met, but Hojin oddly felt glad—even Hoyun’s scolding sounded welcome. Tugging at the crinkly hospital blanket, he blurted out:
“Hyung, aren’t you busy?”
“No. Not busy.”
Hojin narrowed his eyes, studying him closely.
Since becoming an idol, Hoyun had always been busy. Any scrap of free time, he stuffed with practice, cutting into his sleep.
“Sorry. Because of me, your schedule must’ve—”
People always called Hojin cold and harsh, but compared to Seo Hoyun, he was nothing.
Today, too, Hoyun’s schedule had surely been wrecked.
“...Forget it.”
Hoyun, sitting in the folding chair with legs crossed and chin in hand, answered slowly. His face was hidden under his cap’s shadow.
Even so, there was an anxious edge to his calm tone.
“I’m used to it.”
“Used to it?”
“Yeah. You’ve been like this since you were a kid.”
“Me?!”
Hojin shot up, only for Hoyun to press a finger to his forehead and push him back.
“You were always dumb, slow to understand, in and out of hospitals constantly.”
The insults began.
“Even though you weren’t a picky eater, you were smaller than other kids. And without me, you couldn’t do anything. Oh, and come to think of it—you weren’t even that cute as a kid.”
Had this bastard gone senile?
“...That’s a lie, right?”
“No. The ugly part is true.”
Hojin wanted to argue, but his childhood memories were foggy, hidden in mist.
When he started biting his nails, Hoyun grabbed his hand and pulled it down with a faint smile.
“When was it... One time, you didn’t come home until late. I thought some creep lured you off with candy, so I went looking. You didn’t have a phone back then...”
Hoyun paused, then continued.
“After wandering for ages, I got a call from the ER. I rushed over, and there you were, face covered in blood. Turns out you’d been playing with a friend, fell down the stairs, split your forehead, and needed stitches.”
His gaze lingered near Hojin’s temple before curving into a mischievous grin.
“You were trying so hard not to cry with your swollen eyes. It was hilarious.”
Hojin was speechless.
No matter how he searched his mind, he had no such memory.
“...I really did that?”
“......”
“But if it was childhood, why’d they call you, not Mom and Dad?”
Hoyun stood, smirking as if about to crack a joke.
“Who knows.”
“What the hell.”
“Seo Hojin, go back to sleep.”
He tapped Hojin’s forehead, then covered his eyes with a palm.
“I’ll handle the rest.”
Though Hojin felt better, exhaustion piled up, and drowsiness overcame him.
His vision shut, but every sound sharpened—the fridge door opening and closing, Hoyun’s tongue clicking.
“The patient’s awake.”
Hoyun pressed the call button, then stopped briefly before walking away.
“...——Hey, Min Jiheon. Can you—...”
The last thing Hojin heard was Hoyun’s voice on the phone as he left the room.
Three days later, Hojin was discharged in perfect health.
All tests had come back clean. The doctors chalked it up to stress-induced symptoms.
As he left the hospital, he texted Hoyun through the manager.
[Me: Hyung, thank you so much]
[Me: Can I call you now??]
But there was no reply, not even after he got home and unpacked. Just as he considered calling, a short message arrived.
[My brother: It’s fine, busy]
“...Busy?”
No reason for him to lie. Hojin closed the chat and called Woo Gyeongun instead. He needed to thank him for calling the ambulance.
[Hey! Seo Hojin!!!]
“You trying to rupture my eardrum?”
As soon as the call connected, Gyeongun shouted. Whatever gratitude Hojin had evaporated.
[You okay?! How does a healthy guy just collapse like that? Was it really stress?]
“They said nothing’s wrong, so what else can I do.”
[Hmm... Anyway, you know I saved your life, right?]
“So?”
[So shouldn’t you repay me? Hand over those precious IRIX points.]
“Hang up.”
[Ahhh! Hey! You can’t treat your savior like this!]
“Shut up, unless you want to find out how I treat a real savior.”
He glanced at the clock—it was well past mealtime.
Balancing his phone on his shoulder, he opened the fridge. To his surprise, it was packed with rice porridge and side dishes.
He let out a baffled laugh and pulled one out at random.
Meanwhile, his friend’s chatter continued in the background.
[...—Your brother is unbelievable. Like there’s an aura glowing behind him! Is it just because he’s a celebrity?]
“He’s always been like that.”
[Always? Since when, as a kid?]
“Probably.”
Carrying his food back, he caught sight of a small mirror on the wall.
And remembered that hospital conversation.
“...Huh?”
Lifting his bangs carefully, he saw it: a faint mark near his right temple.
So faint you had to look closely to notice.
“...It’s really there?”
[Huh? What is?]
.
.
.
Meanwhile—
“...Cough, urgh!”
Seo Hoyun clutched the sink in a strange bathroom, vomiting.
Red drops spattered the white porcelain, soon staining it entirely.
“Fuck...”
He was at Min Jiheon’s house, left vacant during an overseas shoot.
Outside the bathroom, Jiheon’s dog barked anxiously.
“Shut it...”
Soaked hands clutching his head, Hoyun slumped to the floor, muttering with his face pressed to the sink.
“Make that dog shut up...”
The price of his deal with the system.
The start of a grueling month-long survival.
