“Ichae, go get some rest.”
Sitting in the corner of the hospital room, eyes fixed on the floor, he heard a gentle voice at his ear. When he slowly lifted his gaze, he saw Sung Jiwon, his brows faintly drawn.
“You look terrible. You’re the only one who hasn’t gone back to the dorm even once.”
“......”
“Go sleep for a bit.”
After a moment of blank staring, Kang Ichae nodded slowly.
‘...How many days has it been now?’
Thanks to Joo Woosung’s quick response, Seo Hoyun had been taken to the hospital before things got worse, but he still hadn’t regained consciousness.
A lot of people had come to see him. Everyone who heard the news late and rushed over had the same reaction—utter disbelief.
For Kang Ichae, it felt like he was holding Seo Hoyun’s funeral a second time. Just sitting there, numb, without any sense of reality.
‘I can’t... do anything.’
The only small relief was that Seo Hoyun was still alive.
Ichae had been waiting endlessly for Min Jiheon to visit. Maybe Jiheon would know something, anything.
But when they finally met, Jiheon said he knew nothing. He hadn’t received any separate contact either.
He simply stood there, silently looking down at Seo Hoyun for a long moment before leaving the room without a word.
‘I can’t do anything....’
Rubbing at his eyes, Ichae covered his face, a long sigh spilling from between his lips. Then he sensed someone nearby.
“Kang Ichae.”
It was Kim Sunghyun. He had just finished talking with the manager. Patting Ichae’s shoulder, he knelt down to meet his gaze.
“Hey, Seo Hoyun’s gonna be fine. Go home. If anything happens, I’ll call you right away.”
Those around them seemed to believe Seo Hoyun had done something reckless under pressure, but none of the members agreed with that.
They trusted him completely. He wasn’t the kind of person to do something like that.
“Remember last time? He got through it then. He’ll get through this too.”
It wasn’t even the first time Seo Hoyun had lost consciousness.
“...Okay.”
But this time felt different. Unlike the world where he had been an actor, Ichae couldn’t shake the sense that Hoyun might not come back.
He couldn’t bring himself to say that to Sunghyun, who was trying so gently to comfort him.
He only took the bag Sung Jiwon had packed for him and stood up quietly—just as the door burst open.
“Oh~! Ichae-hyung, finally heading to the dorm?”
Jung Dajun’s head peeked in through the door.
Their eyes met, and he smiled brightly, striding over with open arms to pull Ichae into a tight hug.
“You know, Ichae-hyung. Hoyun-hyung told me something.”
Warmth—almost too hot—spread through the embrace. Dajun’s voice came small and firm beside his ear.
“He said he’d be back soon.”
With a grin, Dajun stepped back and patted Ichae’s back hard.
Ichae couldn’t say a word in return. With a heavy heart, he left the hospital and slipped out through the back door.
There, on a bench littered with cigarette butts, sat a man hunched forward.
The man who had deceived them all.
Ichae had avoided him before they could meet, ignored every call and message.
He tried to pass by again as if he hadn’t seen him, but the man suddenly lifted his head and called out.
“Ichae.”
“Let go.”
“I’m sorry. I really am. Just—please, let’s talk...”
Ichae was about to snap, but when he turned and met Seo Hojin’s eyes, his anger ebbed away instantly.
He exhaled, giving a slight tilt of his chin. Hojin cautiously released his arm, his voice trembling as if he might cry.
“Thank you... yeah, thank you.”
“......”
“...My brother did something crazy.”
Of course he did.
Now that Ichae remembered everything, it wasn’t hard to understand how things had come to this—Seo Hoyun in a coma, Seo Hojin standing here.
The man who would die for his brother must have made a reckless move.
“...I’m scared that if I keep going like this, I’ll lose my memories of him. I want to fix it somehow, but the system won’t appear anymore. I thought maybe... maybe you could see it.”
His trembling voice said it all.
He wanted to go back to Seo Hoyun.
Even knowing what that would mean for Ichae.
Looking down at the desperate man clinging to him, Ichae thought,
‘You really do look alike.’
Both outwardly and inwardly.
With swollen eyes, Seo Hojin looked up at him, and Ichae muttered softly,
“Hojin... I can’t see it either.”
“......”
“I can’t see anything.”
The distorted expression on Hojin’s face crumbled completely. Ichae whispered an apology and turned away.
A taxi ride later, The Dawn’s song “In May” came through the car speakers—the song from a time when they’d believed that together, they could overcome anything.
Back at the dorm, he collapsed onto the bed but couldn’t fall asleep. Sitting up, he rubbed his face hard with both hands, then turned on the computer and put on his headset. He played the song he’d last left unfinished.
Lately, he hadn’t been able to sleep. His thoughts were hazy.
‘...What am I supposed to do now.’
He tapped the keyboard absently like an idiot before opening a browser for the first time in a while.
The news front page was plastered with Seo Hoyun’s face. Ichae’s mouth twisted faintly.
“Wow, this guy’s really popular now, huh....”
A few years ago, no one would’ve imagined it. But now everyone wanted to know everything about Seo Hoyun. His every move had become gossip.
And that made Ichae wonder.
“...I’m scared that if I keep going like this, I’ll lose my memories of him.”
Would the public really forget Seo Hoyun, just like Hojin feared?
If he truly was trapped in his unconscious mind, he’d probably erase every trace of himself.
Then the world would live on, oblivious that Seo Hoyun had ever existed. The members and he would no longer be able to find even a shadow of him.
Would the four of them just keep promoting, not even realizing they’d forgotten?
“...Wow.”
Leaning back in his chair, Ichae exhaled heavily.
‘...Was I too naive?’
Telling himself that everyone meets and parts, that happiness and sorrow both come and go—that ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ it’s the natural order of things.
Maybe it was finally time to accept that.
That the pure hopes and new solutions he’d wished for didn’t exist.
That what he’d wanted was nothing more than a miracle.
He was staring blankly at the monitor when—
Ding!
A notification chimed in his ear.
Not the system Hojin had been so desperate to see, but an email alert popping up on his computer screen.
“...What,”
Ichae straightened instantly and clicked the mouse.
[[Seo Hoyun] Subject: Ichae.]
For a brief, wild second, hope surged—maybe Seo Hoyun had woken up. But it quickly sank; it was probably a scheduled email.
‘I don’t want to read it.’
His hand hesitated on the mouse for a long time, like the day he’d avoided opening his mother’s farewell letter.
Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and clicked.
[Hi, Kang Ichae.
You’re probably really mad, but please don’t throw this away. Read it to the end.]
Maybe it was an apology—for causing all this, for failing to come back like he’d promised during Song Camp.
But it wasn’t.
At the bottom of the long message were attached videos.
[I’ve attached a few videos to this mail. Check them out.]
He downloaded the files and opened one at random.
Through his headset came familiar sounds—laughter, quiet voices, melodies that made his chest ache.
[Upload them in the order I marked, one every two days.]
Ichae forgot to breathe as he kept reading.
Everything was written there.
What state Seo Hoyun was in now, what he had prepared, and what he was asking—of Ichae, and of all the members.
Ichae watched each video, unable to skip even a second. Finally, he opened the very last file.
With trembling hands, he wiped his face.
[When this spreads, it’s going to make waves. Not just me— you guys will get cursed at too, probably for the rest of your careers.]
He looked back at the email’s body, teeth clenched, something hot rising in his throat. Slowly, painfully, he kept reading.
[Honestly, it’s not a good plan. I thought about it a lot.
And I’m not even sure it’ll work.
But once in a while, you’ve got to bet everything you’ve got.]
The monitor glowed faint blue in the darkness, casting its light over him as he scrolled down.
[I don’t want to make you suffer any more, but no matter how I think about it, there’s no one else I can ask.
Sorry for being a pain in the ass to the end.
You’ll do it, right?]
Even at that line—so typical of Hoyun’s shameless tone—Ichae couldn’t laugh like usual.
He had to reread the final line over and over again.
[See you again, okay?]
Dawn lingered at his feet.
Only then did he realize he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, removed the headset, and brushed his hair back. The chair creaked as he stood and walked to the window.
Opening it, he gazed out at the dark sky, now slowly blushing red at the edges, and muttered under his breath—
“...Bastard.”
His cheeks were damp.
“Bastard... of course I’ll do it.”
Outside, the sky was brightening, and somewhere, an unknown bird was singing.
Kang Ichae inhaled deeply, letting the cold air fill his lungs.
He fixed his eyes on the things he’d loved most.
Dawn was approaching—
Their beginning, and their end.
The brilliant time when they had given everything without hesitation.
