Sans titre

The roar of the crowd was still echoing through the arena as I slipped through the narrow backstage hallway. My heart was pounding harder than it had during the actual show. I’d been Jiheon’s personal staff for almost eight months now—making sure her mic was perfect, her outfits stayed in place, and she had everything she needed between stages. What started as professional respect had grown into something much deeper. Secret glances, lingering touches during costume changes, and late-night texts that slowly turned flirty.

Tonight, after their final encore, she had grabbed my wrist while everyone was celebrating and whispered, “Meet me by the old equipment room in five minutes.” Her eyes had that look—the one that said she couldn’t wait anymore.

I found her exactly where she promised, half-hidden behind some stacked cases and curtains. Jiheon was still in her stage outfit: a cropped white top that showed a sliver of her toned stomach and a short pleated skirt that made her legs look endless. At twenty-one, she had this bright, youthful energy mixed with a quiet sensuality that always left me breathless. Her dark hair was slightly damp from performing, cheeks flushed.

“You came,” she breathed, stepping close the moment I appeared. Her voice was soft, excited.

“Of course I did.” I pulled her gently into the small alcove, away from the main traffic. The area was dim, the noise of the crew and members distant enough to give us a fragile sense of privacy. “Jiheon… we have to be careful.”

“I know,” she whispered, pressing her body against mine. “But I’ve been thinking about you the whole concert. Every time I danced, I kept imagining your hands on me.”

Her confession hit me hard. I cupped her face and kissed her, slow at first, but the hunger took over quickly. She tasted sweet, like the strawberry candy she always kept in her bag. My hands slid down her sides, gripping her waist as she melted into me.

Jiheon’s fingers worked fast on my belt, freeing my cock with practiced care. It was already rock hard, straining from hours of watching her move on stage. She wrapped her soft hand around me and started stroking, slow and firm, twisting at the head just the way I liked.

“God, you’re so hard,” she murmured against my lips. “All for me?”

“Only for you,” I groaned quietly. I reached under her skirt, finding her panties already soaked. I rubbed her through the fabric, making her whimper softly.

“Shh, baby,” I reminded her gently, even as I pushed her panties aside and slipped a finger inside her tight heat. “We have to stay quiet.”

She nodded, biting her lip as I added a second finger, pumping slowly. Her hand sped up on my cock, stroking me with needy little twists. The risk of someone walking by made everything feel electric.

Jiheon suddenly dropped to her knees on the padded floor mat, looking up at me with those pretty eyes. “I need to taste you first.” Before I could respond, her warm mouth was on me. She took me in deep right away, sucking gently while her tongue swirled around the head. Her blowjob was eager but careful—no loud sounds, just wet, muffled slurps as she bobbed her head.

I threaded my fingers through her silky hair, guiding her gently at first. She hummed around me, the vibration making my knees weak. “That’s it… just like that,” I whispered. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

She pulled off for a second, stroking me fast with her spit-slick hand. “I love sucking you backstage like this. Makes me feel so naughty… but so good.” Then she was back on me, taking me deeper, throat relaxing as she tried to stay silent.

The pressure built fast. I warned her in a low voice, but she kept going, eyes watering slightly as she sucked harder. I came down her throat with a stifled groan, holding her head gently as she swallowed every drop. She licked me clean afterward, kissing the tip sweetly before standing up again.

“My turn,” I said, turning her around so her back pressed against my chest. We stayed standing, her hands bracing on a sturdy equipment case. I lifted her skirt, pulled her panties down just enough, and rubbed my cock along her wet folds.

“Please,” she whispered, pushing back against me. “I need you inside.”

I pushed in slowly, savoring the tight squeeze of her pussy. Jiheon let out a shaky breath, biting her arm to stay quiet. Once I bottomed out, I wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around her chest, holding her close as I started thrusting.

The standing position felt incredibly intimate and urgent. Her back arched against me, ass pressing back to meet every thrust. I kept my pace steady but deep, the sound of our bodies meeting muffled by her skirt.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” I growled softly in her ear. “So wet and tight for me.”

Jiheon whimpered, one hand reaching back to grip my thigh. “Harder… pull my hair.”

I grabbed a handful of her dark locks, tugging just enough to tilt her head back. She moaned quietly, the mix of roughness and care making her clench around me. I fucked her deeper, hips snapping against her ass while my free hand slid up to squeeze her breast through her top.

We tried to stay as quiet as possible, but it was getting harder. Her breathing was ragged, little gasps escaping despite her efforts. I kissed her neck, sucking lightly as I pounded into her.

“Such a good girl, taking me like this backstage,” I whispered, tugging her hair again. “Anyone could walk by and see how well you’re getting fucked.”

The dirty talk made her tremble. She came suddenly, pussy fluttering hard around my cock as she pressed her face into her arm to muffle her cry. I kept thrusting through it, holding her up as her legs shook.

I pulled out briefly, turned her to face me, and lifted one of her legs, hooking it over my hip. Standing face-to-face now, I slid back inside her in one smooth motion. This position let me see her expressions—flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes hazy with pleasure.

Jiheon wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me messily as I fucked her standing up. Her leg tightened around me, pulling me deeper. I gripped her ass with both hands, lifting her slightly with each thrust so I could drive up into her.

“Cum inside me,” she begged in the softest whisper, forehead against mine. “Please… fill me up. I want to feel it dripping down my legs during the ride back.”

That sent me over. I kissed her hard to swallow both our sounds and buried myself deep, cumming in thick, pulsing ropes inside her. She clenched around me, milking every drop as another small orgasm washed over her.

We stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing each other in. I stroked her hair where I’d pulled it earlier, soothing the strands gently. “You okay, baby?” I asked softly, kissing her temple.

Jiheon nodded, a shy smile breaking through. “More than okay. I needed that so much.” She kissed me again, slow and sweet this time. “I love how rough you get but how gentle you are after.”

I helped her fix her clothes, wiping her thighs carefully with some tissues from my pocket. She straightened my shirt and belt, her fingers lingering on my chest. Even after the intense quickie, the moment felt warm and loving. We talked in hushed voices—about how incredible the concert was, how proud I was of her, little jokes about almost getting caught.

She leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder for a minute. “I wish we had more time. I always feel so safe with you, even when we’re being risky like this.”

I hugged her close, rubbing her back. “We’ll find more time soon. I promise. You’re my priority.”

Eventually we had to separate. I checked the hallway first, making sure it was clear, then walked her back toward the waiting area like nothing had happened. But the flush on her cheeks and the secret little smile she gave me said everything.

Being staff had its challenges, but moments like this with Jiheon made it all worth it. She was bright, talented, and so full of love. And I was incredibly lucky to be the one she trusted with these hidden sides of herself.

The End.

Entering the building, you instantly notice the atmosphere change. You proceed as you normally would, the receptionist greeting you before guiding you to your destination, it seems her nametag displays the name "Minjeong". As you enter the room, the receptionist let's you know that you can take one of the candies on her counter when you leave, as she returns to her place. How nice of her!

The kind receptionist shuts the door for you. You notice a dark haired woman standing next to a chair on the opposite side of the room, she appears to be fixing her hair in one of the mirrors on the wall. She doesn't seem to notice you. You approach her and greet her.

"Hello?"

startled by your voice, she quickly turns. "Oh! You're here for the class? You're early." Until now, you didn't notice that you are actually about 10 minutes early. I guess you didn't check the time.

"Sorry, I guess I didn't check the time."

"No, no. It's fine!" she says, "We can start early, just give me a minute. You can sit if you'd like" she offers with a kind smile on her face as she does something in the corner. You can't quite see what she's doing since her back is turned towards you.

You sat on the chair just as she suggested you do. You let her do what she's doing in peace, so you don't talk to her until she's ready. Your eyes wander around the room, eventually focusing on your yoga teacher. You admire her healthy looking hair, her pale skin…You begin to look at her clothing, wearing a fitted tank top, mildly baggy sweatpants, though not baggy enough to hide the curves of her hips and shape of her round ass.

You aren't looking at her with lust, just learning her features. Right? Your eyes seemed to have stopped caring about the room once you saw her ass. She turns around and smiles at you, raising one finger to tell you that she will only be one more minute! You quickly look at her face, hoping she didn't notice you staring at her ass.

She didn't notice anything when looking back at you. However, you did notice something. You noticed her large breasts held by her tank top. You couldn't help it, your thoughts were beginning to go exactly where they shouldn't. You began to think about what her body looks like underneath her clothes, how soft her skin would be, you even wondered what her pussy looks like for a few brief seconds. How dirty of you.

Your thoughts turned you on so much you could practically feel the blood rushing downward, you feel your cock getting harder, bigger, thicker. It's such a bad time to be turned on. You remain sitting in the chair (almost) successfully hiding the bulge in your pants.

"Okay. Can you move the chair now?" Karina says, with her back still turned toward you.

"Fuck." you thought. Just as you stand up, Karina turns around and drops a pen and her phone.

She gasps from seeing her phone separate from its case, she instantly bends over to pick up the items she dropped.

You can now see directly down her top, getting an almost complete view of her large, soft, breasts. Moving slightly as she moves her arms to gather the items she dropped.

Now standing up, you feel your cock firmly pressing against your pants. You can't possibly hide it now, especially considering your size. You hear Karina talking, but you don't seem to be listening. You just continue staring at her big tits, with endless sexual thoughts racing through your mind.

Smiling, Karina quickly stands up to finally get started with the class. She was excited to teach someone new.

"I'm sorry, I'm clumsy!" she says with a laugh, while looking at your face.

Just as you try to gain composure and act natural, she looks down at the chair beside you, but something else caught her attention.

"I really think I-I-" her jaw drops for a few seconds as she stares at the large bulge in your pants before realizing what she was doing, looking up to speak to you. "U-um-heh. Um. I'm sorry, I didn't-"

You turn your back to her, apologizing out of embarrassment. Though her directly looking at it turned you on even more.

"No, I'm sorry. Give me a minute, it's just-"

She interrupts you, saying "It's fine! It's totally fine!" trying to silence her awkward giggle. Now her thoughts were racing.

Awkward silence fills the room for what feels like forever. Karina looking at the floor, trying not to make you feel embarrassed. You don't notice, but she occasionally glances at you in the mirror, trying to get another look at your big cock print.

You hear her walking towards you, you feel a hand on your back and another hand on the side of your arm. She breaks the silence with her pretty voice and says,

"Can…….Can I see it..again?"

You feel so shocked to hear these words come from her mouth, you instantly turn around to look at her. Accidentally giving her exactly what she asked for. "What?!" you exclaim.

The second you face her, she looks directly at the bulge in your pants and covers her mouth in awe. Her eyes focusing on your cock made it twitch, bringing a very sexy looking smile to her face as she bites her lip.

She gets very close, putting one hand on your chest and the fingers of her other hand on the band of your sweatpants. Her face inches away from your own, her tits touching your chest as she leans in. She whispers,

"I want to see more. I….want..I want to touch it…"

You are completely lost and overwhelmed by the situation, you didn't believe it was actually happening. Karina was shy, but she was also very, very horny in this moment. She looked into your eyes, biting her lip even harder as she started gently tugging your pants downward.

You nod to give her permission. She smiles and puts both of her hands on your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear.

Your cock finally released, springing upwards. You feel your heart beating hard, just like your cock that Karina is staring at. She stares with a look of yearning on her face.

She slowly and gently grips the center of your cock with her small, soft, hand. The sight and feel of your cock turned her on so much, she couldn't stop there. She needed to stroke it, suck it, feel it deep inside her.

"Oh my god…it's so….big.." she said slowly, feeling how hard you are, she playfully asks "What got you so excited? Huh?" still holding your cock.

You smile and chuckle, not knowing what to say. She seems to have an idea, but she still wanted to tease you.

She begins stroking your cock, slowly pulling your foreskin back and forward, back and forward. The expression displayed on her gorgeous face clearly shows how aroused she is. It feels so good, you start to breath heavier. She likes the sound of that.

She lets go of your cock and with a devious look on her face, asks "Do you want to sit in the chair now?" hoping you understood what she was hinting at. You understood, but were in disbelief. You sat down in the chair, bringing her much joy.

She gets on her knees in front of you, putting her hands on each of your thighs. You don't believe what's happening, but that's okay. She doesn't mind.

You see Karina staring at your big, hard cock sticking straight up towards the ceiling. Now only inches away from her small, delicate face.

She grabs your cock, pressing it against her face and feeling how hard she made you. You both love the fact that your cock looks huge on her face, making both of you even hornier.

You feel her breath on your cock as she exhales with a soft moan, "Ahhh~"

She holds your cock still as she gives the tip a deep kiss, wetting her lips with your precum before she begins to open her mouth wide to take your sensitive tip in her mouth. You feel her wet, glossy lips sliding down your cock as it glides across her tongue.

You moan as she sucks and licks your cock, feeling her fingers start caressing and massaging your balls. She takes your cock deeper and deeper into her warm, wet mouth, sucking harder and harder. Feeling her saliva mixing with your precum, running down your cock from her lips. She tries to take it deep into her throat, but she can only handle the head entering her throat before she needs to stop.

She lifts her head up, looking at you while breathing heavily. Her lips and chin wet with your fluids. You feel frustrated, since you were right at the edge before she stopped all stimulation. But that's only because you didn't know what else she was planning in that pretty little head of hers.

Still on her knees, she smiles and slides her hands up your shirt, feeling your chest and stomach, brushing your nipples with her soft fingers. "How did my mouth feel?"

"Amazing…I can't believe this. We shouldn't-" you respond as she denies your logic.

"Shhh~ Babyy~" she says, "We have plenty of time, relax~" as she briefly stands up to give you a kiss before returning to her knees.

"I know what you want…" she teases as she removes her top, exposing her black bra. "Right?"

You respond with a "Yes…." and hear a cute yet sexy chuckle. She removes her bra, fully displaying her big, gorgeous tits you were peeping at earlier. Her nipples hard with excitement, as she caresses and softly squeezes her tits for you. Biting her lip at the pleasure and the sight of you.

She moans softly as she pinches her nipples, "And what about this?~"

She moves closer to you again, this time positioning your cock between her tits, pushing them together. She loves the feeling of her large tits surrounding your big cock, sliding up and down, making her swear.

"Fuck….is this what you wanted?" she asks, as if she wasn't the one to take your pants off.

"God…you're so pretty. It feels so good" you couldn't get any harder, the contrast of your hard cock and her soft tits turned you on even more.

Again, as you begin to feel like you'll cum any second, she stops touching you and stands up. Your cock begging for more as she ignores it, moving her body closer to your face. She puts her arms around your head, putting her beautiful tits in your face.

You begin to feel her breasts with your hands, squeezing, kneading, rubbing. She breathes in and out softly, yet heavily. She feels you begin to lick and suck on her sensitive nipples, bringing an involuntary moan out of her.

She continues to make lovely sounds as you play with her perfect tits, before putting her hand on your head and saying the following words

"St-stop….okay.."

You stop, thinking she has had enough and your luck ran out. She takes a moment before speaking again, as if her shyness returned.

"I need….I need more.."

She removes her pants completely, revealing her black panties.

"Please…….stand up.."

She couldn't take it anymore, she needed you to fuck her. She needed to feel your cock inside her pussy. She's been thinking about it since she first saw you.

You stand up as she removes her panties, you can't help but stare when you finally see her shaved pussy. It was a beautiful sight, even more beautiful than you imagined. You take a look at her panties that now lie on the floor, noticing the inside completely soaked with her fluids.

"Come on…" shyly encouraging you as she gets on the chair, her knees on the seat and her arms resting on the back. Bending over, giving you a complete view of her ass and pussy. She was so turned on, even her inner thighs were wet. It was a heavenly sight. The chair was positioned in a way that you can both see each other's faces in the mirrors on the wall.

You rest your cock on her ass and lower back, caressing her upper back with your hands, moving down to her waist as she watches in the mirror. Moving her hips back, pressing her ass onto you, she says "Please.."

Now that she was the desperately horny one, you decide to tease her. "Please what? What do you want?"

"I want it…"

"You want what? I want you to say it"

She looks at you from behind her shoulder, saying exactly what was on her mind "I want you to fuck me with your big, sexy cock. I need to feel your cock deep in my pussy. Please, please, fuck.."

You feel a wave of extreme desire flow through your body, hearing her speak those words. You have no choice but to give her exactly what she wants, after all, it's exactly what you want too.

As you prepare to penetrate her, you see her fingers already rubbing her clit, making her breath shaky. She couldn't resist, and now you can't resist either.

You slowly penetrate her warm, tight, wet pussy, it feels heavenly. Karina moans loudly as your cock travels deeper inside her, stretching her pussy. Her tits moving as you speed up, hitting her hips with your own, her ass jiggling subtly.

"It feels…fuck…so good.." she says between her moans and whimpers, rubbing her clit faster, causing her to arch her back.

"Harder….please!"

You give in and fuck her tight pussy even harder. You feel it squeezing your cock, she's in complete ecstasy. She physically cannot stop making noises.

"I'm so close…fuck. I'm-I'm gonna-ah!" she says loudly, before her legs begin to shake. Hearing those words brought you close once again. However, you were in control this time. You start fucking her faster, preparing to cum, just as you hear Karina loudly exclaim..

"I'M CUMMING"

She breathes heavily, moaning and shaking. You her pussy tightening and contracting around your cock, with her juices flowing out of her. You feel your orgasm approaching, it feels unbelievable.

As Karina watches in the mirror, you almost fail pull out of her perfect pussy as you cum, shooting large, thick ropes of cum on her ass and lower back. She softly moans, as she feels your hot cum covering her.

You both take a moment of silence to catch your breath, before you speak.

"That was…..insane."

Her shyness returns, she answers in a nod, hiding her face "Mmhmm.."

You grab towels to clean her up, and gather your clothes. Wondering about the actual yoga class, you ask her "Can I….still come again for yoga?"

Getting dressed, she answers with a giggle "Yes, next week."

"This was the weirdest class I've ever done, but…."

"…Yeah?" you ask, curious about what she was going to say.

"Um…nothing. It's time for you to leave, class is over!"

She awkwardly chases you back into the lobby, shutting the door. The receptionist glances at you as you walk by, her face very red. She asks,

"Is…uh….everything okay?", with a weird expression on her face.

A little embarrassed, you respond "Yeah, it went great!"

You don't stop walking to save yourself from the awkward and confusing situation that remained in the building. You proceed to travel home, realizing that you did not take the free candy offered by the kind, blonde receptionist.

The dorm was finally quiet. The other members had gone out for a late dinner after the long schedule, but Seulgi stayed behind, saying she was too tired. The truth was simpler and more private. She needed this. Needed the kind of release she could never have when cameras were rolling or members were around.

She locked her bedroom door, dimmed the lights to a soft glow, and opened her laptop on the nightstand. The video she chose was one she had saved for nights like this — a woman on her back, legs spread wide, using a thick dildo and a vibrator at the same time while moaning shamelessly. Seulgi bit her lip as the video started, already feeling heat building between her legs.

She stripped slowly, peeling off her practice shirt and sports bra, letting her full breasts spill free. Her sweatpants and panties followed, leaving her completely naked on the bed. She spread a towel underneath her, then lay back against the pillows, legs parted.

Her hand slid down her body, fingers brushing over her already wet folds. She started slow, rubbing her clit in gentle circles while watching the woman on screen get fucked hard. Soft, breathy moans escaped her lips as she dipped two fingers inside herself, pumping them in and out with wet sounds.

“Fuck…” she whispered, voice low and needy. Her hips rolled against her hand, chasing the pleasure. She added a third finger, stretching herself open, the slick noise mixing with the loud moans from the video.

After a few minutes, she reached for her favorite thick vibrator. She turned it on and pressed the buzzing head against her swollen clit, gasping at the strong sensation. Her other hand kept fingering herself, faster now, curling to hit that perfect spot inside.

The combination felt incredible. She spread her legs wider, knees bent, giving herself full access. The vibrator buzzed loudly against her clit while her fingers thrust deep. Her free hand moved up to squeeze her breast, pinching the nipple hard the way she liked.

She was getting close already. Her breathing turned into short gasps, thighs starting to tremble. “Yes… right there… don’t stop…”

The first orgasm hit hard. Her back arched off the bed as she squirted around her fingers, clear fluid spraying onto the towel. She kept the vibrator pressed firmly against her clit, riding the waves, moaning louder as another smaller squirt followed.

But she didn’t stop. She kept going, pushing for more. She grabbed her realistic dildo, lubed it quickly, and slowly worked it inside her soaked pussy. The stretch felt perfect. She fucked herself with the dildo while the vibrator stayed on her clit, hips bucking wildly.

“Shit… so full,” she gasped, eyes glued to the porn video where the woman was now screaming in pleasure. Seulgi matched the rhythm, thrusting the toy faster, the wet sounds loud in her quiet room.

She came again, even harder this time. Her whole body convulsed as she squirted hard, fluid shooting out in arcs, soaking her stomach, thighs, and the towel beneath her. She kept fucking herself through it, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until her legs were shaking uncontrollably.

She changed positions, getting on all fours in front of the laptop. The video played on, the woman taking it from behind. Seulgi fucked herself from behind with the thick dildo, ass up, breasts hanging heavy and swinging with every thrust. She reached back and slapped her own ass, the sting adding another layer.

“Harder… fuck me harder,” she moaned to the empty room, imagining rough hands gripping her hips. She came again like this, squirting onto the bed, body trembling violently.

Still not satisfied, she lay on her back once more, legs spread as wide as they could go. She turned both the vibrator and dildo to their highest settings and held them against herself — vibrator on her clit, dildo thrusting deep inside her. Her hand moved fast when she needed more, fingers rubbing her clit furiously.

The final orgasm was the strongest. She squirted hard, clear fluid shooting out in powerful streams, soaking her chest, the headboard, and the floor beside the bed. Her moans turned into broken cries as wave after wave crashed over her, body convulsing, toes curling, vision going white for a few seconds.

She kept the toys going through it, prolonging the pleasure until she couldn’t take anymore. Only then did she turn them off, dropping them to the side as she lay there panting, covered in sweat and her own juices, legs still spread wide.

For a long time, she just breathed, staring at the ceiling with a hazy, satisfied smile. These off-cam moments were her only real escape. On stage and in front of cameras she had to be perfect — elegant, composed, the main dancer of Red Velvet. Here, alone in her room, she could be filthy, desperate, and completely free.

Eventually she got up on shaky legs and cleaned up the mess, wiping down the toys and changing the soaked sheets. She took a long, hot shower, letting the water wash away the evidence, but the pleasant ache between her legs stayed.

Back in bed, clean and dressed in comfortable pajamas, she opened her phone and sent a quick text to her secret boyfriend.

*Missed you today. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.*

She smiled at the screen, already thinking about the next time they could be together for real. But for tonight, this private, messy, intense session had been exactly what she needed.

Seulgi curled up under the covers, body still buzzing with aftershocks, and drifted off to sleep with a content sigh.

The End.

The announcement came suddenly about two weeks ago; all programming was interrupted to give way for the President's public address. 15-20 meters in diameter, he said. Somewhere in the Korean Peninsula is where it'll land, scientists claimed. Blast radius, tsunami heights—the rest was scientific jargon you gave zero fucks or had any knowledge about. Most, if not all of Asia will be scourged. Casualties in the hundreds of millions, if not outright billions. Changes in climate lasting centuries. Effects on the world at large: significant.

They said it like you were just a statistic and not a living breathing human being. This was the extinction-level event the wealthy elite dreamed of. This is what Roland Emmerich was creaming his pants making movies about.

You followed the first few hours with piqued interest. Watched men in lab coats explain science and computer models on TV like you were in fifth grade again. Then came the politicians who said nothing, the religious figures—both the earnest ones and the charlatans alike—calling for prayer, for repentance, for something, anything, as if God was waiting for a sufficient number of people to say sorry before deciding to take His chosen up to heaven or redirect a six hundred meter rock out of Earth's orbit. 

Within 48 hours, the networks stopped bothering with experts. There was nothing left to explain, really; the maths were clear and concise. No amount of science can change the fact that a quarter of the world's population was gonna be vaporized, bare minimum, and a third of the earth was gonna be rendered uninhabitable. The only variable left was how those people would spend their final hours. 

This isn't a world where superheroes fall from the sky and save people, nor is it one where Mars is one readily accessible Elon Musk spaceship away. This is real life: cold and cruel, but it’s the world you live in. Sometimes the powers that be hear your prayers, but more often than not, it doesn’t respond. And regardless of what happens, whether you live or die, life goes on. In the future, you'll just be an afterthought lost to time. People will remember the meteor, but not you.

There's no point in fighting. No point in living for tomorrow.

—————

You walk out into the streets of Seoul like it's just another Tuesday.

72 hours till the meteor hits. Less than. With each second, it approaches ever closer. Slowly. Surely. An inevitability. 

The networks added a doomsday clock counting down the hours in real-time. Regular programming continues with the occasional meaningless update, but otherwise, life goes on like normal. At least as normal as it can possibly be during a situation like this.

If it weren't for a big rock shadowing high up in the clouds, you'd think there was some kind of political upheaval—a revolution. Except no; the government has all but given up. They're secure in some underground bunker somewhere, watching, saving their own asses, offering false pretenses to people that are left to their own devices. Most of them at least. They'll wake up to a world without their own blood, a culture mostly scorched by fire and ash, and they'll forget this nation ever existed.

To say that it's loud would be an understatement. Going to the subway station is akin to moving through war-torn trenches.

Smoke permeates through the streets, never fading and constantly unsavory smelling. Stores are either broken through or falling apart. Men in masks rob some poor guy's furniture store to take out a sofa from his shop and set it ablaze in the center. Society has ripped off the band-aid and torn up the social contract. Not to mention the relentless cries of religious men in the corners with their signs calling to repent. It makes the meteor seem like an afterthought.

"Repent!" The preacher yells out as you walk past him on the walkway. "The Kingdom of God is at hand! The Lord will judge the living and the dead!"

You wonder whether the meteor has given him permission to be like this, or he just hangs around here all the time. You can’t quite tell the difference.

Through all this, the subway remains operational. People still have places to go, somewhere to be, even if they are only the few sane ones left. 

The train cars are mostly empty, so much so you can pick whichever seat you want and there would be no objections. A young couple hold each other's hands till their knuckles turn pale white. An elderly woman lugs around a suitcase staring blankly at the floor like she's trying to memorize its pattern. You wonder if you've seen these people before; you wonder if they imagined this is how their lives would end. The thought lingers for only a moment before you put your headphones on and listen to music as the tunnels blur past.

It's amazing, really, how death makes time feel more invaluable. When you're alive and free and have nothing to worry other than overdue bills and expenses, it's easy to forget how quickly it can pass you by, how seasons change, because it's always there. And when it's suddenly cut short, when life expectancy goes from 65 all the way down to 25—you begin to realize how much of it you're wasting away on things that ultimately don't matter.

For one, you haven't called your family in months. They're still texting every now and then, asking how's the experience in Korea, but you haven't responded to any of them other than an emoji here and there. Then there's your friends you've met online; gaming sessions that once took you into the break of dawn hardly last longer than an hour now. And your circle is slowly breaking apart too; relationships, parenthood, career opportunities, war—

Growing up is realizing how lonely it gets in the world. How you're only surviving, not living. They always tell you to work hard, but now it feels pointless. A big rock is about to undo your entire existence—and like 70% of the world's history and culture.

Still, you soldier on. Because this is the only thing you know, and there's comfort in familiarity.

The building looks the same as it always is: gray and dull and in dire need of renovation. The security guard's still there, barely looking up to watch you swipe your badge and nodding.

"Still coming in today?" he asks absentmindedly, returning to his phone, watching some K-drama on his screen. Behind him is a small TV tuned to the news, doomsday clock counting down the time: 71 hours, 54 minutes, 12 seconds. Eleven. Ten.

"Someone has to," you say, which isn't really an answer.

"I guess," he replies, flippantly, shrugging. As you're about to enter the building, he then continues. "My wife wants me to come home. Says we should be together. For the end, you know."

You nod; there's nothing else you can say or do. You hardly talked to this man, other than 'Good morning' and 'See you, take care.' Never asked about his personal life—never knew he even had a wife until now—and it's too late to start. 

"So, will you be going home to her?"

"Probably. I don't know." He says it with a lackadaisical demeanor while watching the show, making you question why he randomly brought it up to begin with.

Nevertheless, you continue and walk to the elevator.

On the 17th floor, the office is almost deserted. A place housing 24 employees, there's only three today, you excluded. Your boss is at his desk by the window overlooking the Han River, answering phone calls like always. He catches you mid call, gestures with his hand, silently mouthing 'one minute' before finishing his conversation over the line and hanging up.

He then motions to the unoccupied chair in front of him. "Take a seat." So you oblige. 

His laptop has the doomsday ticker too: 71 hours, 49 minutes, 28 seconds now. 27. 26. End of the world aside, your boss looks tired. Not the topical acceptance that everything is meaningless and ash and rubble, but more ‘I haven't slept in three days and been making calls that won't change anything’ tired. His tie is loose around the collar; his hair looks grayer than usual. Maybe you haven't been paying this much attention to him.

"You're here," he remarks straight to the point.

"You say it like it's surprising," is your reply, knowing you haven't missed a day since Christmas. Never took a sick leave or paid time off so far in the year. Stayed several overtimes per week too. One of his strongest soldiers, as they would say.

"It is." He then switches tabs on his laptop, now flashing his GMail. "You're one of four people who showed up today. I had 52 employees. Now it's just" —he gestures at the empty desks— "this."

You don't blame anyone; none of this is important in the face of a giant rock headed towards your humble first world country.

"Life goes on," you tell him, shrugging, nonchalant.

"Does it?" he asks, but neither of you really know the answer to that. Nobody does.

He taps his fingers on the keyboard. Mutters something beneath his breath. A prayer, perhaps, followed by a deep, heavy sigh. Adjusting his glasses, he faces you again: "Thank you," he adds, and it sounds genuinely sincere. "for being here. For showing up. I don't know. It's more than what most people are doing."

"It's—just a job," you answer, because there's really no reason for this to be theatrical or melodramatic. Not like he promised you an overdue promotion a year ago or anything.

"It's not. Not anymore," he insists, shaking his head. "But thank you anyway."

After a pause, a moment of awkward silence where your gaze just wanders around, you ask if you can head to your desk, and he lets you go. 

There's still work to do. There's always work to do.

Your office is no larger than a closet, but it's yours. It's a lot bigger when the place feels more quiet than usual. Even tapping your feet seems to produce an echo off the thin walls. And speaking of, one half is plastered with sticky notes, of passwords you should have memorized, of memos and tasks you've completed ages ago. A graduation photo of you with your parents sits in the corner collecting dust, as well as a calendar on the other end you haven't bothered changing in two years.

Then there's the right side of your desk, your mini-shrine of sorts. It started out small and innocuous, like all other interests: a hit song that always played in the streets, a fancam that caught your eye during one of your breaks. Not long after, you fell down the rabbit hole. She was the it-girl of Korea; her face was inescapable no matter where you looked. Billboards, banners, posters—every brand she modeled for was like an endorsement from the heavens itself. Meanwhile her leader was a charismatic performer who had a fun side to her. 

It grew beyond those two. It became twelve. You learned they were groupmates with another dynamic pairing: one whose cute face had a duality of being both sweet and lethal. The other was the steady presence and industry veteran who had her moments of quirkiness. These two pairs became the backbone of their own respective groups. But once upon a time, they were sisters-in-arms. Members who grew under their own leader, their mother figure. 

Then came the rest: a pretty face who always tried her best even though she never wanted to be an idol. A ball of charm that can do anything and would light up the room with her energy. A dancer who pushed herself no matter how difficult it got. A gorgeous actress who knew this was her one and only group. A tiny pocket of sunshine who still kept close with the others every chance she got. A leader took a second chance in Korea when she could have thrived just as much in Japan. And finally, a soulful voice and actress whom the world cried for when she tragically met her demise and broke the hearts of millions.

Each of them became successful, no matter what path they took, but together, they were something magical. These days, they’re just a memory, kept in music, performances, fandom nostalgia, and on the photos plastered on your wall. They haven't released anything new in years. Quietly withdrew from the public eye once they reached 30, or in the case of some, 35. You hope they're fine, wherever they are. After all, the news did say select individuals were being evacuated outside of the President and high-ranking government officials. Culture and history has to be preserved, if that’ll even be a thing.

Death makes you think about a lot of things. Regret mostly. But there's one thing that will bother you the most: the fact that you never saw them together. Live. In-person. Everything else can come second place.

You can only sigh and touch one of the photos—one of their last shots taken as twelve—before turning to your computer and answering emails.

—————

Today's workload is heavier than yesterday's. Not surprising, given what should have been done by a team of around 52 is now being shared by just four people. No one complains, not even you; there's no use when this all is meaningless in two days, anyway.

You process invoices. Update spreadsheets. Spam follow-up emails to clients whose faces you never see and who will never read them. You answer phone calls from people with the exact same sound of surprise that someone actually picked up. 'Business as usual,' you'll say, even during the end of the world, then get to inquiring about orders that will never ship and deliveries that will never arrive.

Rinse and repeat. You've never been more aware of the time, but it truly flies when you're preoccupied with work.

During lunch, you watch a rerun of a film being aired on the TV in the break room. Armageddon because apparently SBS has a dark sense of humor. You're biting down on some dry bread on a tuna sandwich, shaking your head remembering that one bit of Ben Affleck commentary about how it's easier for oil-drillers to become astronauts than to teach astronauts how to drill. That and the movie itself is so bad it's a guilty pleasure. 

Here's the situation now: around 60 or so hours before the meteor hits. You're watching a movie about this exact situation play out, except death is instantaneous, there will be less explosions than what's on screen, and Bruce Willis isn’t going to save you. 

It's absurd. Life is fucking absurd.

—————

The rest of your shift goes by unceremoniously. Your boss leaves at four, shakes your hand and tells you to take care with a sound that's more resigned to the inevitable than actual reassurances. The other employees begin filing out too, quietly taking their belongings before exiting. 

Now you’re left alone again. You can't help but sigh.

Not the one that screams ‘fuck, the world is really ending’ and more akin to your body crying out in anguish after another day at work. The kind where you just want to lie down once you get home, stare at the ceiling, and think about where it all wrong. Probably the moment you wanted to go to Korea; you've come to this conclusion a long time ago.

And maybe that's the real absurdity: the world is ending and you're sighing like it's another Tuesday and you’re caught up during rush hour.

People are out in the streets, doing whatever the fuck they want because nothing will matter soon. Meanwhile you're still here behind these four walls, trying to cling to the last traces of normality because you don't know what life feels like without having to follow a pattern. In your eyes, life is about structure and control, not chaos and spontaneity. A meteor heading for earth is the complete opposite of that worldview.

Before leaving, you take one more glance at your makeshift shrine. Your collection of photocards pinned to the wall from different eras and groups. Your gaze snags on that one picture of them as twelve, and you look at them with a longing that feels too personal. Like they're within reach.

I hope you're okay. Wherever you are, you’re praying mentally. It's hard to find faith when everything around you is collapsing.

You grab your bag, and for whatever reason, you remove the photo from the wall, pocket it in your coat, and head off. Outside, the entrance is desolate; the guard's phone is plugged into the charger, but he's nowhere to be found. You shrug as you walk into the streets, putting on your headphones; it’s your only shield from the violence, noise, and anarchy of it all.

In the distance, the sun begins to set. It might be your last.

The train stops somewhere between Hongdae and Sinchon. Not gently, not a gradual slowing when the operator's being cautious, but rather a sudden lurch, one that almost makes the standing passengers tilt forward and crash onto the floor. 

Delays, when they happen, come few and far between. Usually a door that won't close, a person on the track, sometimes construction or renovation of railroads. These days, however, the conductor says the same thing:

"Attention passengers. Due to civil unrest and blockages on the tracks ahead, this train will proceed no further. All passengers are advised to exit the station and seek alternative transportation. Thank you and we apologize for the inconvenience."

Civil unrest sounds like an understatement for what's basically Korea's adaptation of The Purge. You've had stones and other random objects chucked on the train windows before. You've seen rioters overpower walls of riot shields and toppling police cars. It's only by divine intervention, you conclude, that you haven't been touched by any one of these maniacs. 

Still, no one complains. People simply grab their belongings and keep moving. 

Getting off the platform is its own chaos. The boring kind. Loud and all over the place, but no bodies are being thrown around, and no one is in serious danger. A reminder that you're not alone in this, that even on the cusp of death, life goes on as normal.

Outside the station is a big glaring reminder that some men just want to watch the world burn. Across the street, a convenience store has its windows shattered, groups of thieves running off with whatever food and other supplies they can carry, a fire hydrant with its covers exposed and water endlessly bursting, a car that's upside down and set ablaze because why the fuck not, and the garage wall of some building with the words B.B.S spray painted in what might as well be someone’s blood. Sirens are blasting loudly; you can't tell whether that's police or an ambulance.

You step over a broken umbrella and head the other way.

Your apartment is only 20 minutes from here, maybe less if you take the back alleys. You could walk home in time to catch the evening news. Maybe call up your parents and finally answer back when it's too late. There's also that bottle of wine you've been saving for a special occasion, and there's no better time to open it than now.

Instead, you stride over to the taxi stand, right as an elderly couple climbs into the cab while the cabbie packs their luggage inside the boot. Queuing is nonexistent and the turnaround is quick; the next car pulls up as soon as the last one drives off.

You've got nothing but a sling bag with you. Stepping into the backseat, you give the driver an address you haven't said out loud in years:

"HYBE building, Yongsan district."

Over the rearview mirror, the man's eyes furrow behind his glasses. His hair is thin and gray. His lips quirk; it's the look of a man who's seen some shit. Definitely in his sixties. 

"Are you sure? It's a long way from here. Traffic's bad. Everything is."

"I'm sure," you insist, looking out the window in time to see two masked men beating on some random guy just inches away from your cab. You should feel something—empathy, maybe—but instead, you lean back in your seat and yawn.

The driver shrugs. It's a gesture you're starting to recognize as the universal response to the end of the world. The car revs and pulls away from the curb.

En route to the destination, the streets are clogged with abandoned cars, people walking in the middle of the road, makeshift barricades, overturned trash cans, and piles of burning debris. Probably ran over plenty of dead things, too. Nevertheless, the driver maneuvers around them all with the efficiency and calmness of someone who has been through some shit, worthy of every 5-star review on Über while cursing beneath his breath every time someone jumps in front of the car.

On the right side of the road, a church can be seen with its lights on. A congregation of people assemble as far as outside the entrance doors, singing a worship hymn, their voices raised to the heavens above. They're singing something about being lost and then found. You can hear their collective praise even through the music playing in the car.

"Crazy times," the driver remarks, not directly to you, but to this: the chaos in the streets, the situation above, the world you're currently living in. "I've been driving this road for 15 years. Never seen anything like it."

"Me neither," you say, looking out the window, past the church and seeing a fresh thick layer of smoke rising in the distance. 

"Where are you from?" he then asks. "Originally, I mean."

You pause. Your eyes widen. Then you answer, "Seoul. Moved from Europe around three years ago. Been on a work visa."

"Ah," the driver nods, looking at you through the rearview mirror. "I was born and raised here. I bet your parents must be proud that you work here in Korea, then."

"I don't know about proud," you answer, shaking your head, chuckling, but there's a tinge of underlying bitterness in your tone. "They did help me get here, so I can't really say much."

"Right, right." He nods again, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel as the car stops at a red light. "You know my whole family's here. My wife, my two kids, my mother—she's 83, can you believe it? 83 years old, and this is how she's gonna go. Not in her sleep, not in a hospital. A big fucking rock from space."

He says it like he's still trying to make sense of the fact. Like if he repeats it enough times the absurdity will wear off and something else will take its place. Acceptance or peace, maybe. You're not sure whether those things exist anymore.

"Yeah, well" —you mutter, scratching the back of your ear, stifling a laugh because you can't really comprehend it either— "I didn't think I'd go out like this too. None of us did. But it really do be like that, sometimes."

"What it be?" he snorts, sarcastic, a bit peeved (an understatement). "That we're left to die on our own while our leaders are tucked away safe and sound?"

The mood inside the car changes instantly. The driver goes quiet as he weaves around an abandoned delivery truck occupying two lanes. Then he continues talking. "Those people—the ones who ran—they're the real cowards. The politicians, the CEOs, the celebrities with their private jets and personal escorts. They're no better than us; only richer."

The photo in your coat feels a little heavier now. 

"BTS left, you know that?" he continues, charged with an anger that's genuine, the kind that's been building for days: "They were on the list. Special transport, same as the president's cabinet. Within 48 hours of the announcement. Packed-up and gone. Jimin, Jungkook, all of them. Cowards."

"They're just people," you say, casual, understanding but seeing the world for what it is. "like everyone else."

"Famous people," he corrects. "They could have stayed. Could have—I don't know—said something." He shakes his head, clearly fuming at the idea. "But no. They're on a plane to go wait it out with the rest of the wealthy elite and would rather watch us all die. Meanwhile Son Heung-min—you know who Son is, right?"

Of course you do. Can't talk about football in this country without his name being among the first mentioned, if not outright. Even more than Mbappe or Lamal, hell, even Messi or Ronaldo.

"He was offered a spot. You know what he said? He said no. Said he'd rather die with his people." The driver's voice cracks slightly before returning to normal. "Now that's a man. That's someone who understands what it means to be a Korean."

And to be honest, you don't know how to react. You've accepted this for a long time, even without all the nutjob conspiracy theorists spazzing about it: the government and wealthy elite have a place of their own. Now they can rule the world without the guilt of having blood spilled by their own hands thanks to nature's call.

"So HYBE," he then says, while you're deep in thought. "Why there? You a fan of someone? My daughter's a big ILLIT fan."

You don’t answer; you don't know why exactly, either. There's a couple of groups you liked, and maybe you wanted to give them one final visit, maybe get some signatures that won't mean anything soon. That's if they're still even there, if the place is still functional. Given that company and BTS, with their connections to the government, it wouldn't surprise you if all their artists made it on the list for safe passage. But seeing as the lights are still on as the building is in sight—

"I don't know," is your eventual response. Even if you actually knew the reason, you would have said this anyway. "I just felt like going. Wanting to visit places before I go. I mean—we go."

The driver shrugs again. Doesn't press on any further. "Fair enough."

The cab pulls up to the front entrance of HYBE headquarters. Taller than you previously saw it, or maybe it's just reality warping itself the closer you get to the end. As expected, the front is empty and desolate; no security guards keeping watch, but the lights are on as night begins to fall. Peeking from outside, there's hardly any activity going on inside either. It's a miracle the rioters haven't burned this place to the ground yet.

"That'll be 22,000₩," the driver remarks, putting the car in park and looking over his shoulder. "On the house, though. Consider it a going away present."

You pay  the fare anyway. Add in a few thousand more as a tip, because Lord knows he's gonna need it should he miraculously live past tomorrow. 

Climbing out of the car, the streets here are calmer, peaceful. The air is cooler, less smog and fire. Most of the nearby stores are closed, and in the distance, the Namsan Tower still broadcasts its light show to an audience that's mostly stopped watching.

"You need me to wait?" the driver suddenly asks, drawing your attention. "Might be hard to find another cab out here."

A second scan beyond the glass doors shows you nothing. What once was a living hub for one of the biggest music labels now feels like a desolate paradise. The lights are on but nobody's home.

"No," you tell him. "Think I'll be here for a while."

He doesn't say another word. He quietly drives off, the screech of tires and hum of an engine echoing in your ears being the last thing you hear before the car disappears around the corner and you're left on your own again.

Stepping past the front doors, the entrance is completely unguarded. No security guards either, no sudden ambush out of nowhere. Cameras are everywhere—if they're still even functioning—but this place has seen stranger things walk through its walls. 

The lobby is no better, completely silent and spotless, like the building is holding its breath. No receptionist waits at the front desk; not a soul roaming the halls. Every step you take echoes, bounces off the walls like roaring thunder. If it weren't for an impeding rock, you'd think the rapture already happened and everyone was taken up. A large screen on the far wall plays a loop of music videos and performances from their artist roster; Le sserafim is currently on screen. All five, present and accounted for. It's a reminder of good old days, a time period that you now take for granted. 

For the first time in forever, you can't help but smile.

But watching them has you thinking, until curiosity gets the better of you. It's what led you here to begin with. Might as well capitalize on the opportunity. 

So you help yourself to one of the many unused ID cards behind the front desk and step into an elevator. 

Your first instinct is to go to the 12th floor. The dance studio looked so familiar you could sketch it out with your thoughts, the same room where they perfected their craft and shared laughs, tears, and everything in between. It used to be solely theirs, but you've seen your fair share of labelmates and even their juniors take up shop every now and then. Maybe this is the delusion talking, or simply nostalgia. Whatever it is, it's leading to doing things you've never thought about doing until now. 

Maybe this is just coping with the fact you're dying soon, and you've got a laundry list of things you want to do, but never found the time or opportunity to. After all, you lost your spirit and youth a long time ago and never really found it again. Part of it, you believe, is hiding in here somewhere.

But as you tread carefully upon the halls, you hear something faint. Music. Thumping. Beating, like a heart that keeps going after everything. You take note of this. Close your eyes and feel it through your ears, tracing its source. It's leading you to a narrow corridor, the bass growing louder and louder, until it retreats behind a door with a sheet of paper that simply says FIMMIES written in all capitals. 

The paper looks like it's seen everything too. Clearly worn around the edges, the ink looks faded. Behind the door, the music thumps past the walls and echoes. For a moment, you wonder what could have been: standing in the crowd, cheering, waving your lightstick, singing their songs out and repeating the fanchants—

That's never gonna happen now. Only in your wildest of dreams.

But the music keeps going. Perfect Night plays in the background, and as you reach for the knob, you hesitate. Probably staff or a janitor cleaning whatever's left. Doesn't matter; the world is fucking ending. You've come this far to turn back now.

So you slowly open the door. The echo of its creak goes unnoticed. You peek your head and your eyes widen in complete shock.

They're here. In casual clothes, still practicing, still giving it a hundred percent. But it doesn't feel the same as it was. You see it in the mirrors, the way their smiles look hollow and forced, the way Eunchae is a step behind the others. Even with an audience composed of just themselves, they're trying, because they know they won't ever perform to a crowd ever again. 

Yunjin breaks formation and pauses the song on the phone. She looks at her members with a soft, bittersweet smile. "Alright. We did great. Ten minutes."

Eunchae immediately falls to the ground playfully before sitting down. Kazuha reaches for her water bottle, drinking while stretching her leg like the graceful ballerina she is, posture perfect. There's hardly any makeup on their faces, if at all; just their natural, raw selves. It's not that far off from what you've seen of them on screen. 

Then Yunjin's gaze finds you and snags. You're still a stranger wandering around a building you have no business being in. But there's no fear behind her eyes; only a look of surprise and confusion.

"Hi," she says simply. The others turn around to face you as well. "Are you lost?"

Gulp your throat. Open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You cling to the door like a harness, tighter when the members approach you. They don't look scared at all. You expect them to call security, seize you and hold you hostage until they arrive. Kazuha especially; she looks like she can straight up beat the shit out of you.

None of that. They maintain a careful distance, even as you remain silent. Yunjin gestures with her hands. "Go on. We won't hurt you."

For a moment, you continue to stay quiet. Eventually, you manage to speak: "No, no. I'm in the right place." Your eyes wander around the room, at the lights, at the mirrors, at your reflection, "Front door was open, so—"

You flash the ID card that you took as proof. Kazuha tilts her head, assessing you and the item. She's wearing a simple grey top and some joggers, her hair tied in a ponytail. Seeing her up close, you can see how toned her arms are. That she can, in fact, beat the living shit out of you.

Eunchae laughs. It's a small sound, almost involuntary, like a hiccup. "Security's been gone for days. We're surprised the power's still on."

She says it like it's an everyday occurence. That people have come and gone here like it's part of their pilgrimage.

Your head is sticking out a bit wider now. Your grip on the door has loosened, but you're unsure whether you're allowed to step foot inside or not. The practice room is larger than what you've been allowed to see. Going from one point to the opposite side is about as long as an Olympic swimming pool. 

"Well come on in," Yunjin says. "We were just about to have dinner."

The next ten minutes or so is a quick round of catch-up. Seated in a small circle inside the practice room like friends reconnecting.

You bring them up to speed on how you got here. The details remain mostly the same (still the same day, after all) but you keep the intimate parts unspoken. You say you're a fan (like everyone else, but genuinely), that you felt like visiting because the world is ending, as you do during such a time. That seeing them live was on your list, but that's never happening anytime soon. 

You don't ask much about themselves; you've known their careers, their story, their legacy. Instead, you ask them why. Why are they here. Why are they spending their last days practicing together instead of being home with their families, maybe even finding a way to get to safety.

"We were supposed to go," Yunjin says. "Bang promised us safe passage. Not just us, as in" —she gestures to her members— "but all of HYBE. Said we were like family to him, and that we'd be taken care of."

"But—"

"He didn't," Kazuha sharply cuts in. She sounds flat and dour, like she's stopped fighting and has conceded to her fate. "He took himself and his family and BTS. That's it. The rest of us, we found out the day after. No warning, no explanation. Just—"

She shrugs. Her eyes glaze down to the floor. "Gone. Without a care."

Eunchae, who's been listening and quiet the entire time, adds: "We could have fought it. Gone to the media, made a scene. But what's the point? There's not enough room for everyone. Someone was always going to be left behind."

Your mind recalls what the cab driver said. That the wealthy elite will do anything to save themselves, even if it means throwing trusted confidants under the bus. Nothing new there, but it's nice to have some confirmation. At the end of the day, it's about survival. Nothing personal.

"Then that means," you then say. "the other groups—"

"Not part of that list," Yunjin finishes your sentence. "They all left to be with their families or together. We're the only ones still here, I think."

"In fact, this was supposed to be our last day together," Eunchae chimes in. "We just wanted to practice one more time before we parted ways for good to remember the good times."

"Yeah," Kazuha affirms. "Yunjin's supposed to be flying back to New York tomorrow morning. I'm going back to Amsterdam. And Eunchae's—"

"Gonna have a sleepover with Kyujin and Leeseo," Eunchae completes her member's sentence. She's smiling from ear to ear. You almost forget she's still relatively young compared to the rest.

If there's anything you'll give the end of the world for, it's bringing people together and reconciling. You can't imagine how it feels for these girls, having spent most of their youth and adulthood training, performing, bearing the brunt of needlessly cruel online hate without their loved ones close to them. They'd be lucky if their tours happen to have a stop close to home. But like all other things, none of that matters when everything is destroyed by fire and ash.

"What about you?" Yunjin then asks, turning the question back. "What are you doing?"

To be quite honest, you're not sure. You've resigned yourself to an unceremonious death a long time ago: all alone, no regrets. Mostly. You're not going home to your parents. You sure as hell aren’t hanging out with any of your co-workers, especially your boss. And you definitely aren't gonna make it to those underground bunkers either.

"I don't know.” You've got your hands in the pocket of your pants, unable to face them. "Probably drink. A lot. I've got a bottle of champagne at my place that I haven't opened, and now seems like the perfect time to whip it out."

No one says a word. They simply nod with an understanding that says yes, that's your life, and we're not gonna stop you.

As your hand touches the pocket of your coat, you remember something. When you watched their performances on the large screen downstairs, something felt off, and this was exactly why. The reason you actually came here. Somehow, it never crossed your mind until now. You fish the photocard out of your pocket and show it to them. They lean forward, squinting their eyes at the photo. All three women have a visceral reaction upon recognizing the faces on it. 

Yunjin gasps. "Wait. This is—" 

"Yeah." You're nodding. "I remember now. Why I came here. Because of them. Because of you."

"But—Chaewon and Kkura" —Eunchae interjects— "they're—"

"They're not that far." 

There's this newfound conviction propelling you. Maybe it's because of the people in your photo giving you the drive. Maybe it's just the late kick of adrenaline knowing your time is near, and you're not ready to fall just yet. 

"I'm a Fearnot, that's true," you continue. "But I loved them first. I learned to accept you because of them. And even when you're apart, no matter how far, you're still family. That's what they taught me."

The three girls exchange looks. They're really thinking this through. Hope—maybe. Insanity—definitely.

"Yeah, but" —Kazuha says now— "We don't know—this sounds crazy. Maybe they just want to be—"

"But they also want to see us too. I'm sure of it."

Eunchae shoots you a confused wide eyed stare, her head tilted and arms folded. "Where do we start though?"

You glance at her and remember what she said. Sleepover. The idea immediately bubbles to the surface.

"Starship," you blurt out before you even think about saying it.

"What?" 

"Starship. We should go to the Starship building. Maybe they're still there, having something similar to this. A swan song, if you will." You're smiling as you suggest the notion, because not even the end of the world can keep you from making stupid jokes.

It doesn't register at first. Not immediately. But with Eunchae, the implication clicks not long after:

"Leeseo. You're right.”

"Good idea," Kazuha adds. "I should say goodbye to Rei before I leave Korea. Maybe she'll leave too."

"Alright. Looks like everyone's decided," Yunjin says, having taken up de-facto leadership on behalf of the group. "We're going to the Starship building."

But right when you're about to head off—Kazuha's putting on her jacket, Yunjin unplugging her phone—you also remember you came here on a cab. And the driver that took you is long gone.

"Wait," you suddenly tell them as you're approaching the door. "I don't have a car."

"No worries," Yunjin immediately answers. "I can drive. Took the girls here too. We'll take my car. Surely the streets aren't this bad tonight."

Leaving the HYBE building is a quick, mechanical affair. Turns out people still look after the place; you find a janitor sweeping the floors as you make your way back to the elevator. Looking out the window it's clearly nighttime, with an hour having passed since you came in. Yunjin says they haven't seen a receptionist in three days, nor have they seen any security guard either. When you ask how they can defend themselves, they tap tiny pepper spray canisters latched to their pockets and joke about hiding behind Kazuha when push comes to shove. She scoffs at it, obviously, but the jabs are light and playful. As you reach the basement parking lot, they tell you that Yongsan was one of the more secure places when the riots and chaos happened after the initial announcement, which is why the building was left mostly untouched.

Emphasis on mostly because there's those three letters again etched with spray paint on the side of some abandoned Mercedes. B.B.S. Some kind of doomsday cult, you assume.

You walk past it and to something more conventional, a Hyundai crossover. Yunjin says she borrowed it from her grandmother, that she didn't expect her demise to be from a giant rock too. You take the backseat behind the driver, Kazuha in the passenger side, Eunchae right beside you, and Yunjin in the driver's seat herself.

"Parking's free for employees," she remarks as the engine roars to life. "But I doubt that matters. They smashed up the boom barrier."

That activates the neuron in your brain. It's reflecting on the smirk in the rearview mirror.

"Don't tell me you joined the riots too—"

"Nope. Of course not." You're shaking your head, eyes shut, trying so hard to stifle your laugh as the car sets off. Parking is expensive at your workplace, which prompted that reaction. It's good old-fashioned karma.

—————

Turns out Yunjin was right: the streets are pretty calm in Yongsan. 

Traffic is nonexistent. Hardly any sign of rampage or destruction. For the most part, the chaos was well-contained. You can chalk it up to Chairman Bang and his connections to the government, though, given the number of destroyed riot shields and batons sprawled all over the sidewalks and roads. You see it as one more act of defiance before they knew it was a losing battle and instead of surrendering, they chose to flee.

Can't blame him. If you were the head of a multi-billion dollar enterprise and in charge of the biggest boy group ever, you'd do the same.

But back to the here and now: Yunjin navigates the streets like a veteran, like she's traveled this road over and over. You're accustomed to seeing idols in the passenger seats, being escorted between schedules that driving should be the last thing on their mind. Sometimes you forget they can drive cars too, some even getting behind the wheel of supercars like any other A-lister.

"So," you start, breaking the silence inside the vehicle. No music, unlike in the practice room, and both Kazuha and Eunchae are staring out their sides of the window, deep in thought, tired to engage in conversation. "How'd you learn how to drive?"

You see it in the rearview mirror, the way her eyes suddenly glint, how she swallows her throat. The way she suddenly struggles to focus on the road. Yet she carries on.

"I learned because of Chaewon," she says, as the car blurs past an orange light turning red. "She would drive us during our days-off. She said she liked being in control. Said it made her feel safe."

Mid-conversation, you feel a tug on your hand. Eunchae's placing hers atop yours. You allow it.

"I promised myself I'd learn how to drive," Yunjin continues, her eyes now twinkling with unshed tears. "I wanted to drive her around too, so I could take care of her the same way she did for us. But when I finally got my license, it was too late." 

The city blurs past. It looks different now in the dark. Streetlamps blend in with the fires burning in the distance, while smoke camouflages perfectly in the night. A few cars here, some people on the sidewalk there, a handful of stores still open, the dying breaths of a city soon to be erased off the map. A woman walks her dog. A homeless man sits on a stoop, smoking. A couple kissing against a wall, bodies pressed together like they're trying to become one before the end.

"Chaewon would have fought to be here," she adds. She's openly crying now, tears falling down her face. "She would have—"

Yunjin stops. Swallows. You see her knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, turning pale white. Ultimately, she shakes her head and sighs.

"Sakura too. They would have stayed. They would have never left us behind."

You've seen how they cared for each other through thick and thin, in documentaries and in behind the scenes content. You see it in the faces of the girls too: Kazuha's stoic demeanor cracking slightly in the window's reflection, her lips quivering a tad. The way Eunchae holds your hand a little bit tighter. So you remain silent and quietly nod, because there's nothing left to say.

As the road ahead unspools, the drive has shifted into something tensely still. Yunjin's focused on navigating a place she isn't quite familiar with, and the others are too exhausted to speak. Here in Gangnam, the carnage is just as contained as in the Yongsan District, but the atmosphere is no less somber and melancholic. The clubs are closed. There's hardly any people out in the streets. No cause for celebration, no drinking and being merry for the end, not even for the most cynical or nihilistic.

Something catches your eye in the rearview mirror: not from outside, but a reflection that doesn't belong. There's two of you in the backseat—you and Eunchae—but the faces aren't either of yours. They're just the lower halves; no eyes, no noses, just features without an upper half to connect them. But they're so deeply ingrained into your head, you know who they belong to. 

Those plump, pouty lips. The bob cut. The hint of pointy ears. The traces of pink hair. They can't be any more obvious.

Your heart catches. You blink, wipe your eyes, and the next second, they're gone. It's only you, your tired face staring back in the mirror again. 

Eunchae notices. "You okay?" she asks. Her eyes widen with a concern that's almost childlike. For a second, you almost forget she's been there the entire time. That sometimes, she'd be the splitting image of her leader. 

"I'm fine," you say, brushing it off. Exhaustion, most likely. Your brain playing tricks, filling in the gaps you want to see, or don't want to see, you're not sure which, when in reality, you don't want to sound crazy claiming you're seeing ghosts. "Just tired."

She doesn't push on any further. Hardly matters when Yunjin announces that they've reached their destination.

It's still the same Starship building everyone jokes about. The one that resembles a jail cell more than a company headquarters. Despite the long overdue need to move or renovate, this is still their place. At least the paint still smells fresh, but the bar is in hell; that's the only thing they've bothered touching in the last 15 years.

Surprisingly, the entrance has a security guard standing by. He stops all four of you. Asks for names.

"Le sserafim," Yunjin answers on your behalf. "We're here to see IVE. Are they in?"

He studies her for a moment. Then turns to you, Kazuha, and Eunchae. You expect him to ask who you are (you'll lie, say you're just their manager), demand identification, and do his job the way he was trained to. Instead, after a quick, almost lackadaisical scan, he speaks over his radio. Asks if they're inside, and a brief confirmation later, he lets your group through.

"Sixth floor," he says. "They've been there all day."

Stepping inside, the difference between both companies is night and day. The lobby is teeming with life, with faces and names you've vaguely heard about, all probably spending their final day together before parting ways. Jiyu spots you while getting a drink from a vending machine and bows to you and the Fims, who reciprocate the gesture as industry seniors. Same goes for the others you happen to run into: Allen, Minhee, Hyungwon, and Joohoney. You spend five minutes bowing to each idol, letting the girls catch-up with their fellow peers. They all say the same thing: they're here because the CEO wanted all the artists to come in today so they could properly say goodbye. 

But just as you're about to reach the elevator, you hear someone calling from the lounge. Everyone turns around, and Yeonjung rises from a couch to greet the girls. They bow, exchange hugs, and she offers a formal handshake, which you accept. The formalities haven't finished completely when Dayoung comes in out of nowhere to say hello as well.

"Glad to see you're together," Dayoung says to Yunjin specifically, her beam still wide, her energy infectious even during these tumultuous times. "Same as the rest of us."

"Of course," she then replies, her smile small but sincere. "It's what—"

"I know, I know," Dayoung interjects. "It's what they would have wanted too. They would have come rushing down from the practice room if they found out you visited us."

Your hand involuntarily reaches for the photo in your coat. You don't show it, but even through the eyes of people you barely know, their presence is palpable. It makes your heart soar just hearing how loved they are.

"They should be on the sixth floor," Yeonjung chimes in with her sweet, maternal smile. Her stare lingers at you a moment longer than necessary as you finally reach the elevator. "Good luck."

Emerging onto the hallway is a refresher in deja vu. Quiet, hushed, silent. Not surprising; most of their artists are in the lobby. No music plays unlike in the HYBE building. But it's there: the group's designated practice room. The sign taped to the door is freshly written with a clear message: Do Not Disturb in Hangul. Yunjin ignores it and knocks twice. Someone echoes from inside, and she answers them back.

"It's us. We're coming in."

Yunjin pushes the door open.

Inside, four girls are huddled together on the opposite end of the room. Rei spots you and rushes toward Kazuha for a warm bear hug. Likewise, Eunchae and Leeseo meet halfway, walking to each other, exchanging hugs and kisses as well. Yunjin and Liz bow to one another before the junior idol embraces Yunjin too, sobbing on her shirt. 

Meanwhile, Gaeul steadily approaches you. Offers a handshake. You exchange bows.

"We were expecting you," she remarks. Her hair's short again, the one signature cut resembling a bob; it was long two weeks ago, right before the announcement that shook the entire world. "Didn't expect their manager to be—young."

You gulp your throat. She gives you a look that's saying I'm onto you. I'm smarter than you think. You can only smile, keep up the facade, if there even is any.

"Relax. I'm not gonna turn you in," she adds, as if reading your mind. "None of us are." 

Both of you look around and see your respective members falling apart. More than peers, they're also close friends. Bonded by adversity, heartbreak, and triumph, they've seen it all in the industry and came out of the fire unscathed. More than that, it's what their leaders, their veterans, with their wisdom and experience that helped them get this far and thrive.

Seeing them in one room makes you proud. Even though you're a nobody, something about seeing these girls together feels right. Like its destiny. 

Eventually, the tears run dry. Yunjin goes to Gaeul, as leaders and the eldest of their respective groups. They hug too. 

"They would have wanted this," Yunjin whispers against her ear. She's done her crying in the car and has been the emotional rock for the Fims. "They would be so happy we're here. It's just—"

"It's not the same, I know." Gaeul, the perceptive woman she is, captures what everyone's feeling with one simple sentence. "But we're here now. That's what matters."

In the midst of all the reconciliations, they forget that you exist. 

When all the formalities are done, Rei, Liz, and Leeseo all come to you, apologetically bowing and shaking your hand. 

"Sorry," Rei says, cheekily smiling, "Didn't realize they still had—"

"I'm not actually their manager," you casually admit, because there's no point in hiding anymore. It's the end of the world, for God's sake.

"Knew it," Gaeul mutters, to herself mostly. "I mean, we don't really have managers anymore. We said our goodbyes to them the other day."

"But it was his idea to bring us here," Eunchae blurts out, and all of a sudden, you're thrust into the center of their attention.

"That's cute," Leeseo remarks sweetly. "Honestly, it feels like a high school reunion, except" —her tone shifts to something somber— "it's a little bittersweet."

You know what she's alluding to. What all the girls have been repeating over and over for the past hour and more. Beat it over your skull at this point and have it ingrained in hot ink at this point. 

"They would have wanted this," you repeat, echoing the same drawn out sentiment because there's really no other way to put it. 

"So why, then," Liz suddenly speaks. "Why do all this? Why bring us together?"

You give the Fims a glance. Kazuha nods once. So does Yunjin. And then Eunchae. Sighing, you close your eyes, take a deep breath, then show them the photocard. Let the IVE girls see the reason and understand.

"I know I'm not anyone special," you say. "You guys sing, dance, write, make art. You make millions smile on stage and in front of the cameras. I push paper and answer emails and go home to watch your fancams. Rinse and repeat. But when the announcement came, when I knew the world was ending" —you pause, let go of a deep breath— "I thought about you. Not my family, not my future. You."

The room holds its breath. No one speaks. You can hear a pin drop in this stillness. Their heartbeats, even. It's the kind of calm that usually precedes an incoming storm, which feels apt given the immense gravity of the situation that brought you all together.

"I was ready to die, to be honest," you continue. "Already accepted my fate the moment it was announced. But earlier today, I took one last look at my office, saw this picture" —you hold it up for all to see— "and something changed. Maybe I'm not ready to go just yet. Maybe there's still one more thing I have to do. And that's this."

You flip the photo around, staring at the faces that paved the way. Your lips crack, and your expression shifts to something resembling yearning and regret. "I never saw them when they were together. Never saw you guys in the same room or take a photo either. And God, I know you're all friends, it's just—"

You pause. Shake your head. Sniffle. Shed a tear, maybe two. Find your way back. Continue.

"So here we are. I just wanted to see you guys together, even if it's for only an hour. Even if it ultimately doesn't mean anything tomorrow. Maybe I'm just wasting your time, but" —you wipe a stray tear from your eye— "thank you for everything."

They let your words sink in a few moments longer. Then Yunjin is the first to respond:

"You didn't waste our time," she says. She's looking at every person in the room, then you. "We wanted this, too. It's just—we were so caught up in our feelings to remember."

Gaeul nods in agreement. "We've been so focused on ourselves. On the what ifs, the could haves, the should haves. We were so lost on what to do, we forgot who and why we're doing this for."

Eunchae's eyes are twinkling. "We still mean something to people. Even after everything."

"But at least we're here now," Rei concludes. "Because of you. So we should be the ones thanking you."

And again, Kazuha repeats the same mantra, the universal belief that kept you all going: "They would have wanted this. Really."

For a moment, the air in the room shifts to something lighter. For once, there are smiles on faces. Even in this bleak and helpless situation, there's the one thing you cling to no matter how far gone you are: hope.

"So what now?" Leeseo then interjects. And frankly, you're amazed you've made it here without planning a single step. No one has a clue either. Two days might seem like plenty of time, but in the grand scheme of the world ending, it’s as precious as diamond, and it's quickly running out. Impulse can only take you so far.

"I live in Jeju," Liz suddenly remarks, clearing her throat. She'd been the most reserved one in the room, not having spoken even once up until this point. And even when she speaks, it’s low, naturally hushed, kept primarily for herself. "We could go there and watch the end of the world together. I can say goodbye to my family along the way."

Surprisingly, despite your four years in Korea, you've never visited once. Your work basically kept you prisoner in office, and your days off were spent at home overcompensating for your lack of sleep. It's a good idea; riding off to the literal and metaphorical sunset on this planet by the ocean. The scientists did say it was expected to land somewhere in the Korean peninsula, so your end is gonna be swift and painless. Imagine that: a body swallowed up by the sea. No better way to go out.

But then there's the others, as Yunjin points out: "Well, I'm supposed to fly out to New York tomorrow." You can see it in her eyes, the frown on her lips. The conflict, the way her heart wants to be there, but also remembering the family she has at home, the possibility of never seeing them one last time after being away for so long. 

"I'm on one of the last flights to Japan, then Amsterdam," Kazuha says regretfully. "I would love to go, but—"

"And I have family in Nagoya," Rei adds. "This was really supposed to be our last day together."

Hearing them talk about their families back at home has you reminiscing about your own too. You're here because of them, but not in a loving way. It had been a rough falling out, but they never stopped reaching out. The messages eventually became few and far between, but they always looked out for you. Even as simple as 'Hope you're okay' and going out of their way to send extra money when you've covered all your needs, they still loved you til the end. Their last update was about the meteor, obviously, but they kept wondering how you feel and whether or not you'd go home, knowing their last physical image of you was swearing you'd never come back—and you'll more than hold up that promise now.

"That's fine," you say, slightly nodding. You're already conceding in your mind that you'll die alone. This dream was simply that: a dream. It was never a guarantee. "I mean, I'd more than love to go, but I just wanted to see you guys at least once—"

"I'm going," Gaeul interjects. "Already said goodbyes to my family yesterday. I want to be with Jiwonnie. Make sure she's there with someone she loves."

Liz's eyes sparkle and her smile brightens. For a second, you see a glimpse of the old Liz, the performer she is on stage.

Leeseo is resolute. "I'll go too. Eunchae, you're coming right?"

Facing her, Eunchae's eyes widen in shock, completely taken by surprise. "Woah, woah. I haven't gone home yet. Also, what about our sleepover with Kyujin—"

"She can come if you want. I'll let her know about this."

Eunchae can't help but laugh. "Alright, fine. You win, I guess. I'll be there too."

Yunjin and Kazuha smile at their member, elated that their youngest won't be alone. "We're sorry we can't be there," Yunjin says, caressing Eunchae's head, brushing her brown locks. "but they would be so proud knowing you're taking care of each other til the end."

Rei's been on her phone through the conversation, which explains why she's keeping distance, facing the practice room wall. Only now do any of you realize. 

"Rei-chan!" Kazuha calls to her, and she turns around with that cheeky grin.

"Guess what," she says, and her smile is so goddamn infectious, she'd make you believe they found a way to stop the meteor from hitting just now. "Called my parents. They're gonna miss me a lot, but I knew I wasn't letting you all go without me."

Liz runs over to give her an emphatic hug. They've always been so close, so joined to the hip at points. You can imagine Rei playfully arguing over the phone begging to stay, that she wouldn't live without her and vice versa. "Took only seven minutes," she adds, as she lets Liz cry on her shoulder from joy.

So here's the score with all the commotion going on: the IVE girls are staying together, Leeseo has Eunchae tied down, while Yunjin and Kazuha are flying home to their respective countries tomorrow. It was fun while it lasted, these two or so hours. Even if the interactions were brief and emotionally charged, at least you got these two groups together one last time. 

"I guess it's the six of us at least," you remark, including yourself in that list of people heading off to Jeju to watch the sunset over your incoming demise. Deep down, you always wanted to go; you just needed a reason to stick together, no matter how many people would be present. "I can come along too, right?"

"Of course," Leeseo immediately answers, like no is not an option. "You brought us all here. You should be there."

"And we're sorry we might not be there," Yunjin adds, apologetic again. "But they're amazing company. Trust us."

"Rei will keep you up all night," Kazuha jokes, prompting Rei to shoot her a mischievous scowl. Liz randomly blushes. "And if you're ever missing us, just know we'll be there in spirit."

It's the kind of reassurance that harkens back to old days. When they would post on Weverse and on streams to fans needing strength to carry on through hard times. Because even in your final hours, you need a bridge to cross over to the other side safely. They still do, but you could tell the feeling isn't the same; they don't even believe it themselves. Until now. For a moment, they're idols again.

"That's everything settled," Gaeul remarks. The room turns its attention to her. "We'll meet here tomorrow morning or at the HYBE building, whichever feels more convenient—"

"HYBE building," Leeseo interrupts. "I like this place and all, but I don't think we can all fit in the lobby."

No one else speaks up. No one objects. After a moment to ruminate the options, Gaeul opens her mouth again. 

"Since Eunchae's the only Fim joining us, I feel comfortable if we all just met here."

"But—"

"It's okay, Seo." Eunchae cuts Leeseo off. "I know my way around. I can take care of myself."

Leeseo opens her mouth. No words come out, so she closes them again. Hard to believe they're grown now when they were babies not that long ago. You can still see flashes of that in her mannerisms and character.

"We'll meet here at dawn," Gaeul continues. "Tonight, we go home, pack all our belongings, say goodbye to our families if we can. Rest up. Tomorrow's gonna be the longest day ever."

Everyone nods in agreement. Then Yunjin and Kazuha give hugs to each and every single one in the room. Including you.

"Gonna miss you guys a lot," Yunjin would mutter to every person. She's always worn her heart on her sleeve, so you know genuine emotion is felt in every word, every tight embrace. You hardly know each other (you literally just met two hours ago), yet she hugs you like you've been best friends for a lifetime. Maybe in the next one.

On the other hand, Kazuha is calm and stoic. Doesn't show her true self much, with or without cameras. She smiles. Laughs. Reacts. She's never been one to let loose, always disciplined in her intuition. Nevertheless, the care is there, that maternal instinct kicking in when she hugs everyone, with you last.

"You've done us a great favor bringing us together," she whispers in your ear. "Now they won't be alone."

"Never been. They always had you."

"And we had them to guide us," she replies back. There's an ache in how she refers to them. The ones who would be proud and would make the initiative to gather them all. "I wish we thought of this sooner."

"Not late," you say. "It's not too late."

Minutes later, you all emerge from the practice room with a newfound confidence, one that feels rare given what's to come. The lobby is still packed, but you become the center of attention. The girls give their farewell bows and waves to the idols waiting, chatting it up in the lounge. Yeonjung stops Gaeul for a quick exchange while the rest of you go on ahead. No one asks where you're going or why. And as you pass by the desk, the receptionist is watching some variety show on her phone, but at the edge of the screen, the doomsday clock is still ticking, counting down, a slow inevitability.

Less than two days remain.

—————

Sleep never comes that night.

You've had your restless nights. It's been a habit as far back as college. Instead of research and work, however, you've been thinking about them. Those girls. The ones who made your life tolerable even in the smallest of ways: their music, personalities, performances, and everything in between. You may not have known them much, if at all, but their existence has defined you. And wonder what could have been. The fact you've gotten the seven of them together is a miracle in its own right, how much more the rest.

But that's for another lifetime. The inky blackness of night gives away for royal blue, the incoming sunrise. You haven't packed even a single thing since you got home. There's only less than 40 hours left, and the biggest day of your lives is looming ever closer.

No time to worry about that. You do your usual morning routine: shower, breakfast, then pack. A backpack with your essentials, three sets of clothing changes, grooming kit, and the bottle of unopened champagne is all you're bringing. The last time you remember carrying this much was when you first arrived in Korea. Now it's come full circle.

Before you leave, you do two more things: pocket the photo you took from the office in your jacket—the very reason for all this—and blow out the candle set in front of a second personal shrine, this time encompassing a whole shelf. You'll miss the albums, the photocards, the polaroids, the memories embedded in them. And despite letting them go, you don't regret a single purchase or a single cent.

With that, you take a deep breath and step out of your house for the last time.

By the time you reach the hill where the Starship building stands, the entrance is already packed.

They've been waiting a good 15 to 20 minutes, Gaeul says. The rest of the girls are there, as expected: Rei, Liz, Leeseo, and Eunchae. The plan is this: you'll take a ferry to Jeju, because all flights within and out of Korea have already been taken, and the world is shutting down tomorrow.

You greet one another warmly, with hugs and kisses than bows now. The first thing you notice is how much luggage each of them are carrying in comparison to your solitary backpack. Three to four bags for each person, like they're embarking on a world tour instead of watching the world end. 

The next is Rei and Liz wearing matching brown hoodies. "Christmas gift," Rei would comment, and she'd reveal they were shocked and laughed when they found out they gifted each other the exact same thing for their secret santa. It brought them even closer that day, and you can tell by how they’re glued to the hip.

Then you turn to Leeseo and Eunchae. Just the two of them instead of three like what they've been talking about the previous night. "Kyujin had a change of heart. She wanted to be with her members," Eunchae would answer, and you wonder if this was inspired by what happened yesterday. You can see the vision: a majority of these groups, bonded by hardship and success, spending their final day together like this.

Just then, you hear the rumble of an engine. Followed by another. Actually, there's three of them pulling up to the hill.

"Our ride's here," Gaeul remarks, standing up from the stairsteps. Three identical black vans await, enough to seat your group three times over. The passenger door to the first one opens, and everyone smiles from ear to ear. 

You can't help yourself either, because Yunjin steps forward with her arms wide open. 

"How's my favorite people in the world?" she asks energetically, and God, you missed that bubbly energy so bad. Not just on stage or in front of cameras, but in general.

"Yunjin, I thought you were—" 

"I couldn't help myself. I said my goodbyes over the phone last night," she cuts you off, putting a hand on your shoulder as she walks into a spree of hugs from the girls, especially Eunchae. "There was a lot of crying and pleading, especially with Rachel, but they were more than willing to let me go. So here we are."

"We?"

From the second van, Kazuha emerges quietly, waving hello at everyone, but with no less fanfare. The group, as you know it, is officially complete. 

"You can thank Yunjin for this," she simply says, laidback and composed as usual. "She crashed mid-call while I was bidding farewell to my family."

"No I didn't," Yunjin playfully denies. "You were 10 seconds away from hanging up."

"But you still crashed my call."

"Did not."

"Did."

They go back and forth a few times, while the rest of you can only laugh along. It's all in playful jest, but it still doesn't answer why there's three vans. You understand that two are needed to accommodate you all, separating you into your respective groups with your luggage, but a third seems unnecessary. 

So Yunjin explains it on the walk to the van, and it's rather simple: "All our camping stuff! Tents, foldable chairs, everything to make our last day on earth not as miserable." 

"I'm surprised you're not driving," Eunchae remarks to Yunjin as you head for the vans. The drivers come out from their seats to assist with the many, many bags. 

"I would have driven us into a ditch. Eventually," she quips back, drawing another round of laughs. 

—————

You get to the port faster than expected.

The chaos has all but completely died. It's like the remaining people that haven't fully accepted the inevitable are finally coming to terms with their fate. Fires are petering out, most if not all non-essential stores are closed, and the mood is just dour all around. It doesn't help that the weather feels like it wants to break your spirit: cloudy skies, roaring thunder, the occasional drizzle—this eerie atmosphere leaves shivers even on the most resolute of souls.

Nevertheless, you make it onboard the first ferry to Jeju. You slept through the drive there, so you're woken up by the sound of horns blaring and the waters crashing against the shore. One of the last normal places on earth, you reckon, there's this stillness keeping everything afloat. Even with all the shouting and noise, that serenity holds it all together. Because for every shout by a driver, there's a man reading his Bible. For every crying infant being comforted by their mother, there's a couple holding hands on the ship's deck. For every dog bark, there's the flap of seagull wings.

And then there's you: for every tired, drained soul is another smiling widely through their grief. People who've resigned to their fate and are making the most of their time left, like the diagnosis is terminal. Here, the rain has stopped. The skies remain gray, but patches of blue, hints of the sun, begin shining through.

Two hours, the captain said. Two hours before you reach Jeju, your final resting place. And from what you've seen, there's not a lot of better, greener places to die on.

While the girls catch up with one another downstairs, you find yourself leaning on the railing alone. The last 24 hours or so haven't felt real yet. You're really here, on a boat headed to Jeju alongside the idols you loved. You're doing things you never thought you'd have a chance to do, living beyond your mundane four walls and monotonous weekday routine. All it took was the end of the world for it to happen. 

You don't notice Liz creeping up beside you, breaking away from the pack. Her hair is being tossed around by the wind, almost concealing her face.

"Hey," she mumbles against you, almost muted by the waters. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you reply, keeping your tone low, tilting your head in her direction but averting your gaze. "So—you get to go home. Be with family. For the end."

She nods, then shakes her head. Lets out a pained chuckle. "Sure. But I'll be with you, and them. I won't stay, just passing by to say my goodbyes to everyone."

"Right, right."

You watch the waves down below. Trace the trail the ferry makes as it cruises forward. No animal surfaces from the waters; it’s just the sea streaming backward. Meanwhile, Liz keeps her gaze straight, at the vast ocean ahead. Endless cloudy skies, endless ocean. The mainland is long gone from view; none of you will ever step foot in it again.

"When you moved from Jeju, as a trainee," you then start, after a few minutes of quiet reflection, You're facing Liz now, and she meets you halfway. "What was it like? How was—adjusting to the city?"

She doesn't speak. Not right away. That's how she normally is: reserved and withdrawn, careful when to talk and with her choice of words. "It was rough. I wasn't familiar with, well—everything. I took a big risk going out there alone. I'd get lost to and from the building, my accent was rough, and I'd get weird looks from anyone because I wasn't so used to everything. It was—brutal. I thought if I wasn't gonna get cut for my looks, it was definitely because I showed up late especially during those first two months."

In a way, your first year isn't far off from her experience. You didn't speak the language and had to use a translator more often than not. You didn't know cars were right-hand drive. You broke so many traditional customs and rules that it was a miracle you weren’t put into prison. It took you a year to read and write in basic Korean, but you eventually adjusted.

"But," she continues, "the girls helped me out so much." Her gaze flicks to the stairs, pertaining to the girls on the lower deck. "They were so kind, so patient. They took me in as one of their own." She then looks up at the sky, stares for a while as the sun slowly parts through the clouds, then down at the ocean. "Especially Yujin and Wonyoung. They taught me everything as idols."

"Right," you say, and you think about how fast they must have grown up. They were the youngest back then, the ones cared for and coddled by everyone else, only to turn around a few months later to become those maternal figures for girls not that far off in age from them. Wonyoung especially, with how the media and spotlight has been far more critical towards every little thing she does. They must have carried wisdom beyond their years.

"The one thing I cherish the most was what they said to me before our last evaluation, right as we were getting ready to debut," she adds, and you can see her features crack up remembering in real time. "was that I should always be myself. No matter if people hated me or not. They said that true fans would see through everything and like me for who I am. It's been my mantra ever since."

Your gaze flicks to the vast ocean ahead. Jeju is beginning to rise above the horizon. Seeing this, Liz walks away, but you call to her before she reaches the stairs.

"Jiwon."

She turns around. Faces you eye to eye. Your heart races. You're nervous, but not out of love; this isn't a confession.

"I'm sure they're proud of you," you say. "Proud you stayed true to yourself."

She doesn't react. Doesn't say a word back. Rather, she continues walking and heads down the stairs, but as she disappears, you can see a trace of a smile forming on her lips. 

One step out of the ferry is enough to inform you that the difference between Jeju and the mainland is night and day. The air you breathe is fresher, the grass is greener, and the world is quieter, but in a peaceful, serene way. You can hardly tell the end of the world is happening if you lived here.

Liz finds you waiting outside. The vans are still inside the ferry, waiting to disembark. Some families are reuniting here, hugging those who have chosen to return home and spend their final hours with their loved ones. One look in her eyes says it all: she wishes she could have been back on a better day.

"I just wanted to say thank you," she says, and it's sincere enough to break through her reserved nature. "For saying that. For saying I'm still–me."

Your mouth opens instinctively, but only air comes out. You were never the best at listening or giving responses, but it's your connection to those girls that you can meet halfway and relate.

"O-of course," you manage, and your brain is glitching trying to find the right words to say. "But I'm just a guy who only knew you cause of them–"

"And you accepted us, too. Right?" Liz cuts you off gently. Hand on your shoulder, she knows where you're coming from.

You can only nod. Of course you did. Loved them the same way as those girls. They're an extension of their legacy, their lineage. 

She's walking away again. You hear the blare from one of the vans. Her smile is wider now, a glimpse of the old Liz. "Come on. Family's expecting a huge party. They've prepared lunch for us."

The road to Liz's house is long and winding. Remote, as with most of the places in Jeju, considering the rent's cheaper but there’s not a lot of people living here. Eventually, tarmac gives away to a mile long stretch of gravel, sandwiched by never-ending fields extending outward. Your driver remarks that essentials haven't been shipped here in almost a week, and for good reason. No point in trying to save lives when you're near the Earth's demolition zone, but given how abundant the harvest looks, they don't seem to have a problem at least.

As the convoy approaches a house nestled on a hill, a makeshift Welcome Home Jiwon banner hangs by the front door. Hero's welcome, Leeseo would say, and even though Liz laughs and it's in good nature, that bittersweet undertone lingers. You can't imagine being her: the last two homecomings being both under the worst circumstances. 

You step out first. Liz follows after you, then the rest of the IVE members. Yunjin emerges from the passenger seat of the second van. The other two stay in their respective vehicles for now. As the wind blows the bottom edges of the banner, no one is stepping out to greet your party.

As the girls turn to Liz, she calls out: "Mom. Dad. I'm home."

And for a few seconds, no one answers back. Then the front door swings open, and out comes her younger brother.

"Noona! You really came!" He comes rushing down the stairs screaming and runs hugging his sister. He doesn't seem to acknowledge your existence, or her friends and traveling companions for that matter. Nevertheless, everyone steps back and gives them their moment. "It's been a while!"

She smiles. "Only been two months," she corrects, met by a playful slap on her cheek in retaliation. 

"Two months too long," he says, and they share a laugh. Warm, pleasant, wholesome. And even though they've already said their goodbyes, you imagine these other girls would rather be with their own families than spending their last day here.

As the Kim siblings finish hugging, their mother steps out, her smile inviting. "Welcome home, Jiwonnie." Then her gaze flicks to the rest of you, finding you first. "And to you as well. Thank you for bringing her home to us."

You bow first, leading the rest. Your smile is small, your presence carefully contained. 

"Come on in," she then says, stepping back into the house with an inviting gesture of her hand. "We prepared lunch for everyone."

Inside, the house feels quite lived in. The paint on the walls looks fresh, the place already smelling of cooked meat and other food. Liz's brother has already run to the kitchen helping out Mr. Kim with the last of the meals. You hear the ping of an oven, something simmering on the pan. The girls carefully take their seats in the living room while you wander around aimlessly. 

Your gaze flicks on a table with framed memories of Liz throughout time: her as a preschooler, in third grade, a solo pic inside the Starship building when she was a trainee, and most recent of all, with her fellow members not that long ago (give or take a few years). They visited here at some point, probably a few times.

Yujin and Wonyoung are smiling widely in the picture, you observe. Their eyes look so bright, like they see their futures ahead of them. Can't help but smile too, even if it's not the real thing.

"That was not long after we all renewed our contracts," Gaeul suddenly mumbles, having stepped beside you while you were deep in thought. "I thought we had forever, but–" 

She shakes her head, her tone shifting to something somber. Her lips are moving, but nothing comes out, only air. The look on her face tells you everything you know: regret.

"I don't know why she went," she mutters, mainly to herself, but you can hear her. "I should have told her not to–"

"It wasn't your fault," you kindly say. Your hand on her shoulder, she's holding the photo now, a little too tight for comfort. "Was just–bad luck. They wouldn't have known. None of you did."

Her hands are trembling, soon followed by the rest of her body. She looks like she's ready to crumble anytime. Leeseo sees this and walks over to her to give her a hug, and Gaeul immediately lets go: she sobs on her shoulder and into her embrace. 

Liz, helping her family the entire time, is on your other side. "She's never been able to forgive herself for it," she remarks, sympathetic. "Come on. Lunch is ready."

The distribution is split into three rounds, since it can only seat ten. The family isn't used to such a large party, but there's more than enough food and drink to go around for even thirds. It's quite the last supper. 

Against your wishes, they invite you to take first, followed by the IVE members, then the Fimmies. Liz's family eats last; they sit around the table, while you scramble throughout the living room for lunch. Gaeul stays in front of the photo, while Leeseo and Rei hover close by her side. Yunjin's talking with someone over the phone, and Eunchae and Kazuha sit by you in the guest area, eating quietly.

"We were so surprised when it happened," Kazuha mumbles between chomps. "We all did. It was so sudden."

You definitely know. It was everywhere for a whole week. While you were busy maintaining your nine to five, the world was moving too fast to keep up. And while this incident brought most of Korea to their knees, you were still sleeping under that metaphorical rock.

Eunchae nods in agreement. "When Sakura and Chaewon heard of it, I never saw them cry this much and weep so loud."

Of course they did. They'd be the first people to throw themselves into the fire to keep the rest of the girls warm. The others too, but they'd all be fighting to see who'd keep them safe instead. When it happened, the rest would fall, and ultimately they did. Little did anyone know that was the beginning of a domino effect.

And all you can do is just eat quietly, reflecting on what could have been.

An hour and a half later, the party is ready to hit the road again. Liz got their blessing and approval to be with you for the end of the world, and though it pains the family, it's her heart's desire, and they're more than willing to let her go one last time.

The Kim family gives Liz one final hug. Mrs. Kim is crying. Mr. Kim is steady, but on the verge of falling apart too. Her younger brother is holding her tightly, refusing to let go.

"If somehow, we ever survive this," he mumbles against her hair, "Then I don't want you to leave us ever again. You understand me?"

Liz is crying too, but she softly laughs. "You bet."

You don't see any of this. Only hearing the commotion, as you're using the bathroom. Washing your slick face, you stare at your reflection. Blink a few times. They're sharing hearty laughs outside now, exchanging promises to see each other in the next life, but their voices gradually die down. Your ears start ringing. 

They're talking.

"I miss them too," someone says. The voice is distinctly feminine.

"They'll be alright," another answers. This one too, is also feminine. They're quite clear, in fact. Reverberating in your ears. Like they're in the room with you right now.

So you look around. Nothing. Just you. But you can still hear them clearly.

"So glad they're together," the first girl says. "Glad they didn't forget about each other. And us."

The other woman makes a satisfied hum. And then they fade out, like this was some kind of fatigue-induced dream.

You're still looking around, trying to find where they went. Nothing. 

"Hey!" Mr. Kim calls out from the living room, grounding you back to reality. "You have somewhere to be."

Your eyes glaze back at the bathroom door; your legs are so wobbly, you end up leaning. "I'll be out in a bit."

Here's what you'll do when you step out: you won't tell them what you were hearing. There's no feasible way to make it sound sense, even though your outrageous idea has brought you all together. And while they've heard crazier things at the end of the world, none of them hit quite as close to home as this. Some thoughts are best kept secret and left unspoken.

So the dust you were taken from, and so will you be dust when you return. That's a verse you remember when you were young and still had faith.

But right now, all you see is green. An endless land of green. 

Completely untouched by man, Jeju's cliffs rise up to the edge of the island. The seas are a lifetime below, its waves crashing violently along the rock formations and the bluff. Otherwise, it's the most serene place you've ever been in. If there was ever a final frontier on Earth, this was it: it's no Tower of Babel, but it's the closest you'll get to touching heaven.

After a moment to soak in the fresh air, you all get to unpacking. Unfurling tents, laying out food, spreading out jackets, unfolding chairs, taking photos, saving their final memories. Wood is as common as oxygen here, perfect for the fire you'll light up at night. Even out here, high up in the hills of Jeju, reception remains strong; someone has their phone on the news, keeping track of the doomsday clock. 28 hours left, the trackers say, and it's gonna time perfectly with the last sunset this world will ever see.

Hours pass. The bright blueness of day gives way to sunset’s orange, and you see the asteroid now: brighter than any other star, small but rapidly approaching. No one's brought a telescope, but you all will see up close and personal soon anyway. 

24 hours remain, the tracker reads on Google. You're standing alone on the edge of the cliffs, atop a small hill that makes you feel closer to God than ever before. Ahead the ocean stretches out endlessly, bleeding orange against the waters. Soon, it'll be red and black and melted away. As the sun sets on the horizon, sinking for its next rotation, the winds are becoming breezier and colder. 

This feeling of being closer to God–you feel them here too. You've got no evidence other than your gut, your instinct telling you this. The same intuition that made you look twice on your office wall, prompted you to take that photo, brought you to the HYBE building–it's all been building to this. Like it's a part of some divine scheme. 

Look to your right and the camp several levels below is all but completely finished. The bonfire is starting, the place is lit up by portable lanterns and the girls are specks of dust from your view. Someone's waving at you from that distance; no shit, you don't know who it is.

That's your signal to head back down and return. But before you do, there's one more thing:

The photo's been pocketed in your pants the entire time. You pull it out and hold it on the cliff. It was taken at a place similar to this: sunset background, their hands raised to the sky, with their final days looming around the corner too. The parallels couldn't be any more eerie. 

And a new thought comes up: how did they feel around that time. How they embraced their final days knowing it was about to end. Did they beg. Did they plead. Did they accept their fate. They definitely cried, though. How many times, you don't know.

That was a lifetime ago, yet with the meteor approaching, it feels like it was only yesterday.

—————

This group circle hearkens back to your last days in college. 

It was a spiritual retreat before graduation, a two day respite from your internship and other commitments to reflect on the past four years. The night ended like this too: each person coming forward to share their memories, their grievances, and everything in between. No stone was left unturned, no darkness left hidden in the light. You don't remember much other than being closed off from everyone else, that your only regret was not being more sociable, but in the time between that and now, hardly that part has changed. 

The fire's smoke reaches up to the inky night sky, crackling and spitting. All of you–eight to be exact–sit around the campfire. Some in folded chairs, others on the grass, and the rest on blankets or jackets. Coffee's being passed around as the evening chill settles comfortably throughout the area. Lanterns and portable lights make everyone's faces somewhat visible.

No one speaks. No one's taken up the presiding role. At least not yet.

22 hours, says the ticker, and it's being reported that only 5000 or so people have been granted passage to the top secret bunkers to live on after the meteor hits. World leaders, a handful of celebrities, and billionaires who bought their way in, obviously. But there's no point in protesting; it's tucked somewhere unknown, off radar, and they don't give two shits about what happens to everyone now.

"So," Yunjin starts, and she can hardly be heard, barely carried by the wind. "Since it's our last night together, I think, we should all share stories." Her gaze flicks left and right, by the members beside her and the friends made along the way. "Anyone wanna go first?"

She's met by silence. It’s neither awkward nor tense. The kind that's usually reserved for students when asked about a lecture they should be paying attention to, but instead drift off from. Good effort, though, you think to yourself. She's always been the social butterfly, the most outgoing of the bunch.

"Alright. Guess I'll have a go," she continues, almost muttering to herself, trying to laugh the cringe away. Doesn't quite reach it. Then she breathes. Hands clasped together, she stares at the fire for a moment, then tilts forward. 

"As you all know, me, Chaewon, and Nako go all the way back," Yunjin starts, her face lit by the fire. "You know how competitive it gets at times, especially when it’s on national television. I wanted to prove myself to the people, because I knew I could be great. Chaewon let me. Nako let me too, even though she was the one that was really meant for the part, and I can't thank her enough. There was no argument from anyone. But then–people thought I was greedy. Selfish for wanting to take the vocal role. But it was because of them I got to shine, even if I ultimately didn't make it onto the final lineup. Then, geez, as fate would have it, we'd end up in the same group together a few years later."

She laughs. Smiles at the thought. It's genuine, warm. "She was meant to be a leader. She sees the best in people and she makes them believe in themselves. I count myself so goddamn lucky to be Chaewon's teammate, but more importantly, as a friend." Looking to her members beside her, she nudges them closer. "We all are. So kind, so gracious, and so pure of heart." She sighs. Blinks. A pair of tears fall from her eyes. "Wherever you are Chaewon, just know we wish you were here with us. Because you would be."

Kazuha speaks up next. She sounds almost quiet, as if restraining herself. "When I first arrived in Korea, I didn't speak the language. I mean, I knew some of the basics–hello, goodbye, thank you, where is the bathroom–but I couldn't hold a conversation with anyone. I couldn't even order food without having to point at pictures. I felt helpless."

Her smile is just as small as Yunjin's, sad and bittersweet. "Then came the low point. I was scolded by the choreographer during training for not keeping up with the others, because I couldn't understand what she was saying."

She shifts in her seat, crossing her leg as she gazes into the fire. "I cried in my room that night. It was the worst I felt about myself since I began learning ballet. It had only been a month, but I thought about quitting already. Maybe this wasn't for me, I thought to myself. Then Sakura came into my room, knocking on my door. She sat by me and said, 'It's hard isn't it? Being somewhere new. Becoming someone new,' and I said yes. And you know the part that got me? She told me she did it three times. The first in Japan, then in Korea, and then—with me."

Her gaze flicks toward Yunjin and Eunchae. They're smiling wide, so she can't help but grin seeing them too. "With us. We hadn't debuted yet, not even close. But she spoke like it was happening the next day. Like we were already past the hardest part."

Kazuha holds her hands close to her heart. "She never got impatient. Never made me feel stupid. Between practices, she'd help me get accustomed to the language. She'd speak on my behalf whenever I wanted to express myself until I was ready to do it on my own. And even after I became fluent, I never stopped learning from her. If not for her, I wouldn't have become an idol. If not for her, I wouldn't be here with you guys. She's the reason I can speak here today, and be proud of how far I’ve come. I just wish I could tell her that. I had so many chances, but I never did. Not really. Not in a way that matters."

Eunchae's wiping a tear from her eye before she takes the floor. "They're all sisters and mother figures to me. Chaewon, Sakura, Yunjin, Zuha—you all took care of me. Protected me. Made sure I couldn't be swallowed by the system completely."

She pauses. Swallows her throat. 

"I was so young when I joined. Too young now that I think about it. I didn't really know what I was doing; I just followed my heart and wanted to dance. I didn't know who I was, but they did. They took me in and loved me, and because of them, I grew into someone I can be proud of."

Her voice cracks at the end of her last sentence. Leeseo instinctively reaches out and holds her hand. Yunjin puts a comforting hand on her back.

"I don't know what I'm going to do without them," she whispers. "I just hope we can be together, even in the next life."

Yunjin then pulls her into an impassioned hug. Kazuha reaches over to rest a hand on her knee. As close as Leeseo is to her, she lets them have their moment. The whole group does.

Gaeul speaks up next. Low and steady, it’s the kind of tone used to holding things together. "Yujin and I were the oldest, so naturally, the leadership role came down to the both of us. Then she ended up getting chosen, much to the shock of everyone else." She faces her members, who nod once in agreement. "You were there. I still remember that day. We just wrapped up the jacket shoot for our debut, and they announced it three days before our last evaluation."

"Wonyoung was especially sad," Liz quietly remarks. "She wasn't gonna be the maknae like before."

"Yeah, and that's exactly why we all were," she answers. "She essentially had to mature overnight. But that night, she came up to me and said, 'Unnie, I need you. I need someone older, someone wiser, someone who can hold me up when I crumble.' And to be honest, when I heard of it, I didn't think I was the right person for the job. She had more experience in the industry, and so did Wonyoung, so I felt that she was more qualified. But then it clicked: she was still young. She was still a teenager trying to figure things out, and she needed someone to reassure her she'd be okay. So I did. I became the person she can confide in, whenever she doubted herself, even when she worried about everyone else."

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "She would have wanted to be here. She would have loved to see us all together. I'm sorry I couldn't fulfill that promise to the end. I'm sorry I couldn't be by her side, and the one time I wasn't, I paid the ultimate price."

Rei mutters something to Kazuha. Her lips are concealed behind her hand. They're exchanging smiles. Some laughs, too. Then she puts her hand down.

"When I came to Korea the first time, I was lonely. Not homesick, exactly; I missed Japan, but I knew I wanted to be here. I knew this was where I belonged. But I didn't have anyone: no friends, no family, no one who understood what I was going through."

She turns to face Liz, and their hands find each other.

"Then these girls took me in. They didn't care that I was the first Japanese trainee the company recruited; in fact, they learned Japanese so they could communicate with me. They made me feel at home, even when I was so far away. They helped me get accustomed to Korea, and I couldn't thank them enough. For that, I have no regrets. None."

They lean on each other's heads. Rei smiles at Liz, and she blushes in response. She lets go of her hand to speak next:

"I grew up on this island. It's beautiful, but it's small. Isolated. I hardly had friends to play with or have lifelong bonds with. Seoul was mostly what I saw on the TV and in pictures, so it became my dream to see the bright lights and the big city. And when I got there, I was—terrified. People were hostile to my accent. I got lost so often. I didn't know anything except I was a girl from Jeju who was in over her head."

Her gaze flicks to Gaeul beside Rei, then Leeseo next to Eunchae. There's two spots where they should be seated in, but instead is an unoccupied void that can't be filled.

"They welcomed me. All of them. They loved me the way I am. It didn't matter that I wasn't polished or perfect, or that I was so clumsy and arrived late to practices; they helped me find my way. They made Seoul feel like a second home." Liz covers her mouth, nearly reaching up to her eyes. When she talks again, the words come out almost inaudible. "I don't know if I ever told them that. I don't know if they knew how much they meant to me, but I hope they did. I hope they knew."

Leeseo's been waiting for her turn patiently and quietly. When she takes the floor, she sounds smaller than the rest, but no less steady:

"My unnies were my mentors. They taught me everything: how to dance, sing, act in front of cameras. Being everything an idol should be, basically." She pauses. Grins. It's quite the contrast compared to the otherwise solemn atmosphere and previous melancholic testimonies of the others. "It helps when one of those members is Jang Wonyoung, and the other is An Yujin. They were so perfect for us—and each other."

Everyone smiles. Warm, genuine, bright. Some much needed levity in the space.

"But they also taught me how to be brave," she continues. Her energy is dimmed just slightly, but still sincere. "How to keep going even when I was scared. How to smile even when I wanted to cry."

She looks at the fire, then at Eunchae, before staring up at the sky.

"I'm still learning. I'm still scared. But I'm here. And I'm not alone. And it's because of them. I hope I can be that person for someone the same way they did for me."

The fire has burned low. The logs are crumbling at the edges. Its warmth feels softer now, more gentle. Everyone has told their stories, shared fond memories, poured out regrets, and everything in between.

"Now then," Yunjin says, presiding once again. Her gaze flicks to you, seated across the fire, and everyone else follows suit. She doesn't press on any further, letting you decide whether you want to take the floor. And after some thoughtful consideration, your lips curve in the shape of a smile.

Of course you pull the photo out. It's like your personal gun at this point. They can barely make out the figures even with the fire, but the faces on it are too familiar, too recognizable to matter. The implication is right there.

"I was there from the beginning. Way before that," you say, holding the photo, scanning it front and back. "Since Produce 48. So yeah, I saw your performance of Into the New World," you add, staring directly at Yunjin. "I watched the show every single week. I had my picks. Argued with strangers online about who deserve to make it. I had my favorites; everyone did. And when the final lineup was announced, it" -you swallow- "wasn't what I wanted."

Yunjin leans forward. Kazuha's face shifts. Everyone waits with bated breath. 

"Not gonna lie, some of my picks didn't make it," you continue, averting your gaze, looking down on the ground. "And those that took their place—I didn't understand. I was angry. Disappointed. I almost didn't follow the group at all."

You're holding the photo with both hands, staring into each member's eyes, remembering the qualities that captured your heart. "And when they debuted. I watched their debut stage, and" —the words die gradually on your tongue— "I don't know how to explain it. I just—fell in love. Not just with my picks, but all of them. The way they danced, the way their voices sounded, their music—it's like they've been brought together not by some committee or public vote, but through divine intervention. Like they were a team of destiny."

The fire crackles. You pause to catch your breath. Your glance shoots upward to the sky, at the smoke rising to the heavens. "Then the whole voting scandal came out, and everything fell apart. People wanted their heads. Said they shouldn't exist, that their legacy was a fraud. And maybe that's true, knowing what we know now, but those girls didn't deserve any of the hate. They didn't choose any of that. They simply—showed up and worked hard. Most important of all, they loved what they were doing, and they loved each other. They made something beautiful, even if the foundations were flawed from the start."

Somehow, through it all, you don't cry. You remains steadfast. Probably because you’ve done your weeping a long time ago. Or you lost your ability to feel. Maybe both. Around you, they're intently watching, crying, listening. You feel jealous for these girls; not only because they got to be closer to them than you could ever dream of, but for exactly that: the fact they have a living, breathing soul. 

Nevertheless, you carry on: "I supported them through everything. The highs, the lows, the record breaking pandemic year, the eventual disbandment. I waited for their solo debuts, their new groups, their new careers. I watched Yena transform into a three-dimensional entertainer, Yuri, Hyewon, and Minju become award-winning actresses, Eunbi turn into a festival legend, Chaeyeon competing in every dance show imaginable because her love for dancing is just that insatiable, Nako establishing herself in Japan while occasionally dipping in Korea every now and then—"

With each name, your smile grows marginally wider. With every acknowledgment of their legacy, your face becomes brighter. 

"And don't even get me started on you girls," you add. You're looking at them one by one: Yunjin, Kazuha, Eunchae, Gaeul, Rei, Liz, and Leeseo, and the rest who aren't there but present in spirit—the long-term impact they left on not just you, but on K-pop in general. "I don't really need to say much, because you're living proof of their influence on the industry."

Their responses are all over the place, but in a positive way. Liz covers her face with her hands. Rei smiles through her eyes. Eunchae's eyes glisten. Yunjin has this proud, affirming look on her lips. Kazuha nods once. Gaeul simply looks away. 

"But," you continue, looking at that photo again. "it's not the same, you know? Not the same without them. Without all of them. When they were together, they were—a constellation. A family. And I know; I know they've moved on. They have these new careers, new lives, new people to love and take care of. And I did too. I accepted you guys the same way they did. But some part of me kept waiting, kept hoping, kept wishing that somehow, someday, I'd get to see them reunited again, even just once. I.O.I did it; why can't they? And that opportunity never came."

You look up to the sky once more. The smoke is dying down. The fire is on the verge of burning out. The sky is clear, countless stars twinkling far above. Soak every second you have left to see the night.

"Then the world started ending. At first, I was just ready to die. Honestly, I prayed the meteor would come sooner than later. I didn't really see any reason in hoping or living any further. But, as I was about to clock out of work, I thought of them. I remembered this photo." You hold it up for all to see, even in the near dark. "And I thought, if I'm going to die, I want to do one more thing. Even if it was impossible, I wanted to see them one more time. So instead of going home, I went to HYBE, and then" —you gesture with your free hand— "here we are."

You take the deepest breath of your life. The fire pops. Someone's sniffling, another is sobbing. 

"They would have wanted this," Gaeul quietly remarks. "Yujin would have wanted us to be together. I know she would have done the same."

"They're here," Yunjin says. She looks around at the circle, something she'll never get tired of. "In a way. We're representing them by being here."

Kazuha reaches across the fire and takes your hand. Warm, but gentle. "Thank you. For remembering them. For remembering us."

"I think this was the best idea," Liz adds. "We're not alone when tomorrow comes, because we have each other."

The atmosphere in the circle shifts to something lighter. The fire has all but completely fizzled out, reduced to faint embers. Eunchae rips open a bag of marshmallows; Leeseo whines that she should have brought it out when the fire was still stronger. Her complaining becomes irrelevant when she has first dibs, then passes it around the group.

"Okay, now what about comfort songs," Yunjin asks. "What's the one song we're listening to at the end of the world?"

For a moment, everyone thinks about their answers carefully. A surprising struggle, like a pop quiz has been dropped. Eventually, they're given out one by one:

"One Last Time by Ariana Grande," says Liz. "That one also had a meteor apocalypse for the music video. Feels fitting for tomorrow."

"Rebel Heart," Rei follows. "They did say that song gives off disbandment vibes, and well—we are disbanding. Technically."

"Give me Just the Way You Are," Leeseo chimes in. "The Milky song. It always gets me in a good mood no matter how low or scared I'm feeling."

"I guess Bohemian Rhapsody's a good shout," Gaeul comments. "Six minutes, and it's got everything from sentimental to orchestral and even rock. No better last song to go out on."

"I'll do you one better," Yunjin suggests. "All Too Well. The full 10 minutes. At least we can say we were standing at the end of the world when it hits."

"You're only saying that because it's Taylor Swift," Kazuha chides. Yunjin rolls her eyes. 

"Then tell me what song would you listen to, Zuha," she chirps back, playfully elbowing her ribs.

Kazuha grimaces. "Sign of the Times," she answers calmly. "I was rewatching Project Hail Mary last night to cheer myself up after the call." She sighs. "I wish Ryan Gosling was real."

While Yunjin shoots her this conspicuous, disgusted glare, Eunchae casually cuts in: "I wanna say Hot. By, you know" —her eyes flick between her members, blushing— "The last thing I wanna think of when we go is us."

And that leaves only you. You could go for something humorous like It's the End of the World as We Know It, something epic like The Final Countdown (too on the nose), back to comedy like Closing Time, something overtly sentimental like Do You Realize, or downright nihilistic like Creep—

You end up going sentimental. The phone isn't halfway out of your pocket when you press play.

Have you ever seen anything?

Have you ever seen this color?

The smiles come naturally. Of course. Someone may have seen it coming a mile away, but no one cares. The more surprising bit is the song choice more than the artist itself; not any of their titles (especially Panorama), nor their slower ballads, but something happier and more upbeat, and from their debut as well. The reasoning is the same as Leeseo's: it's an instant shot of dopamine regardless of the situation, no matter how you feel at the moment. But one particular line resonates with you even now:

I will always be with you~

And sure, it's one of, if not the most common trope especially in K-pop songs. A promise about a lifetime, when really, it was for only two and a half years. But it doesn't change the lasting impact these girls had on your life, and that's the last thing you want to remember even in your dying moments.

You see Leeseo mouthing the lyrics like she knows this song from heart too. Everyone's bopping their head with the song. The fire's completely gone now, and the evening wind completely takes over. Someone yawns deeply; you don't know who. Suddenly, Kazuha rises from her seat and stretches her arms. 

"I'm clocking out," she groans out mid yawn, walking over to her tent. She doesn't look fazed at all; if anything, it's another day for her. Another notch on a schedule that's well and truly ending.

The others follow, retreating to their chosen tents. Of course you have your own, but you've given up on a proper rest a long time ago, way before a meteor decided it was your time. You exchange good nights with everyone knowing you'll hardly sleep through the night, and that's okay. It won't matter when you're dust and bones around this period tomorrow.

But even with all these thoughts running through your head, you close your eyes. As your consciousness fades to black, this is the last thing you remember:

18 hours remaining.

—————

Still, even as the end looms closer than ever, the world never stops. It's making its funeral bed.

The Pope presides over a country-wide prayer vigil at St Peter's Basilica. Analysts and reporters are crunching down the initial casualties (already in the billions), the long term effects on the planet, and whether or not life as we know it will continue existing in the years to come. Presidents are giving their farewell addresses; some choose to stay and die with their nation, others (global superpowers mainly) have taken quiet refuge somewhere only they know.

People take refuge in makeshift bunkers, whether in their homes or through subways, underground basements, or whatever place they can find. Some stupid billionaires are sending rockets to blow up the meteor without properly considering the new problems such an idea would bring. Either way, this planet is fucked. Nature or the forces above have marked you all for death.

All this chaos and commotion for something that will ultimately consume everything and everyone. Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, it's as still as water. 

Less than 9 hours remaining, the doomsday ticker reads on the bottom of your phone, checking the news in real-time. Still lying in your tent, you wake up to your best night of sleep in years. Probably just the calm acceptance of your fate fully settling in your bones. 

Peeking out from your tent, you can hear the relentless waves crashing against land far below the hills where you're standing. Someone's simmering food over a portable cooker, based on the crackle of oil and meat. Another's playing music over their speakers. The skies are surprisingly clear. The breeze is perfectly chill. It feels right.

You finally step out into the warm embrace of the sun. Soak it all up because you'll never feel it again in a matter of hours.

Yunjin's the first person to greet you good morning, the one cooking breakfast—or brunch, as she would correct, as it’s close to noon. Nevertheless, she serves bacon on top of pancakes with a spread of maple syrup. The pork looks a little burnt, though. She says that you're the only one who hasn't eaten yet, since everyone else got up  earlier, with her in particular up the earliest to watch the last sunrise of her life.

"You look well rested," she remarks, flipping a few pieces of overcooked bacon over. "Doesn't seem like the world is ending today for you."

"I've made peace with that a long time ago," you reply, shrugging, poking a strip with your finger before she swats it away with her spatula. You wince, yelping as she smacks your hand.

"Hey. Clean your hands first," she scowls, pointing to a nearby well. You're reaching for your aching hand, annoyed as she laughs at your pain. But you acquiesce.

Meanwhile, the others are spending their final hours as you thought they would: Gaeul's by herself reading a book inside one of the vans' cargo area, Kazuha's in workout gear meditating under the open sun, and Leeseo and Eunchae are playing some video game on a shared Switch 2. Rei and Liz are nowhere to be found.

You ask them where they are; they mindlessly answer the hill without looking away from the screen even for a split second. Both girls are locked in, mashing buttons on their JoyCons competing like they're at Genesis. You forgo breakfast to look for the missing couple instead.

And sure enough, they're standing at the top of the hill, holding hands. Up here, the winds are twice as harsh, and the ocean ahead spreads out everywhere. You can see a commercial plane flying past; for what reason you don't know. 

"Gorgeous view," Liz mutters to Rei. She looks down at their interlaced fingers, with Rei's skin glistening under the light, almost resembling a ring. "I lived here my entire childhood and I didn't know this place existed."

"Your parents didn't take you? Even once?" Rei asks back, tilting her head.

"I probably forgot if they did."

Rei smiles. Brushes the blow locks blocking Liz's face. Then she cups her cheek. "Maybe one day, if somehow, we make it through this, then this would be the best place to propose to."

"Who? Me?" Liz's cheeks turn beet red. Flustered at the implication, she covers her face with her hands. "Hey—"

"No, no, not me, silly," Rei chuckles. She pulls Liz's hands away from her face and leans forward, flashing her trademark grin. "I mean, the person who'll eventually love you and give you the world and all that! I can never love my best friend; we would break up and that would be ugly."

Liz looks overwhelmed. This feels like a confession. Even though they've been close after so many years. They've hung out countless times, slept in each other's beds, shared clothes and items—but they could never meet halfway for the most important thing: commitment. And that's what's keeping them apart. Even now.

"Gosh, Rei—" She stops herself. Still hesitant, still unwilling to speak her truth. "I mean—"

"Relax. That's not gonna happen, anyway. We're all gonna die," Rei interjects, her energy sounding wrong in the face of imminent death.

As you approach them, they face you in unison, moving like its choreography. "Hey!" Rei chimes, waving. Liz, meanwhile, bows gently. Slightly leaning closer to her member, but without letting go. "What are you doing here?"

"Was about to ask the same thing," you counter.

"There was no beach to walk on," she answers, "so this hill was the next best thing. Great view. I can see why you like it up here."

It can be interpreted two different ways: how it's the closest you've been to God in years, or it's a straight plunge into the sea down below. Either way, you're seeing heaven real soon.

"Am I overstepping on something?" you ask, and Liz immediately huddles behind Rei, futilely hiding half her frame.

"Not at all," Rei answers. Her eyes glance briefly back at Liz, the reddest person in the vicinity. "Anyone looking for us?"

Turn to your side, down at the camp below. Their gazes follow. Nope. No one at all. Everyone's doing their own thing.

"No, I'll just—go down—"

As you're about to turn around, Rei suddenly grabs your hand, pulls. Gives you a hug.

"What—what's happening?" you force out, the words coming rough. She squeezes tightly as if sucking the air out of your lungs. 

"Nothing. Just wanted to give you a hug for no reason," she mutters, as Liz quietly sneaks off while you're trapped. You turn your head just enough to see her jog down the hill.

"What was that all about?"

"Beats me," she says. You want to believe her, but girls like Rei tend to hide secrets behind not so subtle smiles. This is no exception. 

—————

7 hours remaining, the doomsday tickers read. Programming is nothing but waiting for the end to arrive; TV is basically white noise. Sometimes you just want to turn it off, throw all the phones and devices away. Death feels more real when you just—feel it approaching, not watching some countdown. 

Everyone's gathered around the circle for lunch, sharing snacks, drinks, and conversations, cherishing the last traces of normal life before it all becomes dust. The final hours of peace anyone will get. 

Just then, you feel a slight disturbance. A tremor. A faint echo of engine noises, followed by a flock of birds flying off. SUVs and vans and cars of different kinds—around eight or nine of them—emerge from the forest serving as the gate between road and paradise. Some drive past your camp, others stopping several feet away. You eat away the newfound attention, pretending to act nonchalant, but after a night spent with these girls and soon to be former idols, it feels like an intimate secret being exposed to the world. 

But it doesn't take long to realize nobody cares. No one asks who you are and the people that you're with. You find that these people are here for one thing only: to see the end with their own eyes, up close and personal. Families, couples, friends. Doesn't matter the age, status, gender, race, or anything else, you're all nothing when the time comes. 

When they wave, it's less about the stars beside you and more 'came here for the meteor, huh?' acknowledgement. They have their own snacks and chairs and blankets for the occasion. It just so happens you went a day too early, it seems.

And wouldn't you know it, Liz's family is here too. 

Her brother runs headfirst into her for an immediate hug. Everyone bows and greets her parents. They brought the old family van, the one that's been in the garage and only driven like thrice a year, brought out a fourth 'for old times' sake.' They said if she couldn't be home, then they'd be the ones to go to her instead, and they're blessed to see their daughter come back one more time and just be close enough to reach. It's a bittersweet feeling, but at least they'd be together.

And as you turn around, a dozen or so women are emerging from the other side of the hill. Squint your eyes; can't really tell them apart. One of them seems to be looking for something or someone. A few moments later, they found it: you.

As they come down the hill, their faces become clearer. And so is the first voice. 

"Hey!" a blonde girl yells out, and her arms are stretched wide, seemingly going for a hug. You've never met this person, but you respect the gesture enough to reciprocate. 

She runs past you and towards Yunjin instead. That was never meant for you. The fact you don't know each other should have been a dead giveaway. 

Likewise, the other girls walk past and ignore you completely. Nine of them to be exact now, but one stops and actually recognizes you. Her eyes widen with genuine surprise—and delight. So do yours.

"Hey," you manage to call out as the woman caresses your cheek and pecks it. "Aren't you—"

"From the Starship building? Yes!" She sounds excited that you remember her from the other day. "Oh, I never really introduced myself to you. I'm Yeonjung, by the way. I'm their senior," she says, pertaining to the IVE girls greeting her members, proud at seeing her lineage come together.

"I know you," you reply, and your gaze flicks to Gaeul in particular. "You stopped Gaeul as we were leaving."

"Yep! I found out your plans from her, and after talking with Somi, we pitched this together super last minute." All eyes are on Somi, the most enthusiastic in the area, giving hugs and kisses like it's Christmas. "It's inspiring what you've done to these girls. And well, it's inspired us too."

"You guys are fortunate," you remark, mentally recounting each member for confirmation. Somi, Sohye, Sejeong, Chungha, Jung Chaeyeon, Nayoung, Doyeon, and Yoojung. Hell, even Mina and Jieqiong are present and accounted for. It's a goddamn miracle. "You guys get to be together. Them, on the other hand—"

"We almost didn't," Yeonjung gently cuts in. "Jieqiong almost didn't make the 5 a.m. flight to Korea today. They were no longer flying planes from China after 10."

"Still. You are all here, regardless,” you say. “Even if you're not together, you all could have said goodbye to each other through calls or some physical meeting. They can't."

She blinks. Stares at her girls, then at her juniors. Subtly, she shakes her head. "They deserved better, you know. All of them. I wish they were here too."

"They are," is your reply. "In a way, I can feel them. Somehow."

The I.O.I girls finish exchanging pleasantries, and you feel the attention being redirected toward you as Rei nudges Sejeong in your direction. They surround you completely, offering apologies in their own personality and pace for ignoring you. Everywhere you turn, there's a face saying 'sorry' and bowing. You can hear the girls laughing in the background, Yunjin and Rei especially, as they wish to be with your group for the grand finale. Of course you say yes; even when you're the only person who might say no—and you won't—the supermajority won't accept that.

Ultimately, there's about forty or fifty or so here on the cliffs on Jeju, with front row seats to Earth's grand finale. 

As the hours fly by, you watch the last of this world fall apart. Slowly. Surely.

First it was the networks. With less than 4 hours to go, all non-news related broadcasting said their goodbyes; each station played their last songs and aired their final programs. DJs bid their own farewells, each one no less emotionally charged and heavy:

"To all our listeners, we thank you. Thank you for tuning in, for staying with us, for keeping this job a joy even during our hardest days. We don't know what comes next. None of us do. But what we do know, is that we've shared something with you—something real, something human—and for that, we are grateful."

"If you're still listening, please. Call your mother. Call your father. Call the friend you haven't spoken to in years. Make amends. Forgive. We don't have much time left, but we have enough to leave without any regrets."

"This is KBS Radio 1. We are signing off. God bless you. God bless us all."

The services followed not long after. Telecommunications, electricity, the like–you all know because you've heard from acquaintances in the mainland and in other countries that everyone has been left to fend for themselves now. Most governments have gone into hiding, and the few that stayed are choosing to fall with their respective nations. This was a given. They'll have to live in a world that's certainly gonna be uninhabitable for millions of years.

That's their problem to deal with. For now, it's cosmic judgment given in the form of a giant rock. It's visible in the sky now as the skies turn from blue to orange, clearly seen through binoculars and telescopes, careening down at God knows what speed, because the time between impact and after is almost instantaneous. You wouldn't know what hit you. 

37 minutes left, Yeonjung's custom built ticker reads. You've lost access to the internet an hour ago, so it could land any time now. She says that Dayoung managed to put it together by connecting it to NASA's database, the hows and whys she has no clue. Of course she did; she does just about anything and it fucking works. This doohickey is also why you still have communication with everyone else. There's a lifetime of questions you want to ask, but it all feels irrelevant in the face of imminent death.

Through the radar, you hear NASA and other rogue teams are pulling off the sci-fi bullshit hail mary you've seen in films: they're sending astronauts to space by blowing up the meteor before it hits earth. The rockets are already en route to meet it, and the plan is just straight up ripped from Armageddon. Dig through the center and detonate everything from the core. It's fucking stupid in the movie, it's even dumber in real life.

"Did they ever name the asteroid?" Eunchae asks innocently. "I don't think they ever said it in the news, or maybe I forgot."

"Hmm," Yeonjung ruminates, "I think it was called Luminary for how bright it was on their satellites. They missed it by 2 days."

"Sounds stupid," Somi scoffs. "Should have called B.B.S for Big Bullshit."

Just the small banter between people, not just these girls in general, feels like a relic in this heightened atmosphere. To think you'll be beyond history—not lost in the record books, not something to be remembered more than a number, a statistic—should daunt you. It doesn't; it just makes these moments more special. 

Outside of you and a few others tracking the asteroid, everyone's waiting anxiously for the end. Couples, families, friends, fresh acquaintances all standing on a field looking up at the sky. Elsewhere, life goes on. The earth still spins. Nature continues its cycle with blissful innocence. It's hauntingly beautiful.

Repentance, regret—you'll save it for the afterlife when you knock on heaven's throne.

10 minutes remain. The asteroid is much clearer now; it's a gargantuan mass hurtling down in a wave of its own smoke with small crackles in the middle and around the sides. The hail mary must have failed, you assume, given there's no update since. Yeonjung ultimately decides to close the radar and join the others in facing the end. All of you do so as well. You make the short climb up the hill to meet it at the summit.

As you look around, there's this underlying dread behind each person's eyes. That maybe, just maybe, they're not ready to die just yet. They're all still in their 20s to 30s, with so much ahead of them, only for that opportunity to be prematurely taken away. Liz and Rei are holding hands. Eunchae and Leeseo are hugging each other. They're then cuddled by Kazuha and Gaeul, reassuring them that everything will be okay. Yunjin has her hands folded, feeling shivers down her spine. The wind is getting cooler; the evening breeze is approaching. The ocean bleeds orange on the horizon; the sun is sinking down.

"Do you have any regrets?" Yunjin asks suddenly, facing you as she rubs her hands on the sleeves of her shirt, uselessly keeping warmth. It's quiet, kept specifically for you.

Your brows furrow. "Regrets about what?"

"Anything. Life, love, career—anything you regret. Could be spending your last days with us."

"Definitely not," you answer calmly. "Being with you is the best thing I could have done. For a couple of days, I actually felt normal. Like I was in my youth again."

She smiles. Small, but heartfelt. That's all she needs to hear.

"And what about you?" you ask in turn.

"None," she says simply, like she's secure in herself. "I got to sing, dance, and be on stage with the people I love. That's more than what most people get."

"And Chaewon?"

"She's in my heart. That's all that matters."

Someone's playing a song on their phone. Not the choices you shared over marshmallows and around a campfire, but something different. Downpour, because today feels like a terrible day for rain. 

You track the source. It's Kang Mina. She's on the verge of tears.

"You alright?" you ask her. She doesn't reply at first; it takes a moment before she looks at you and her brain loads. Blinking, she wipes a stray tear from her eye.

"Yeah," she answers, nodding erratically. Her body's trembling nervously. "Just—I missed out on a lot. I wasn't there for the 10th anniversary comeback and tour, and then the 15th one as well, thinking there would be time for me to join the 20th. And then" —she sobs— "this. I took everything for granted."

A hand finds her shoulder. Somi's. Sejeong follows. The other girls follow shortly after in shared comfort. 

"You'll always be I.O.I, remember?" Sejeong says. "Doesn't matter if you weren't there for the reunions. What matters is you are I.O.I, no matter what. That part of you will always remain, wherever you are."

"That goes for the rest of us," Sohye adds. "And even if it was because of a giant rock, I'm glad we got to share one final moment together. All of us."

"Thank you girls," Mina mutters as she sobs into her members' arms. They share a warm hug that also makes you smile. You may not know these girls, but you can resonate with this shared bond. What a beautiful final sight of humanity. 

But now there's the meteor, burning overhead. Not even Hollywood's best IMAX cameras can fully capture the scope of this beast. The air feels hotter; breathing is akin to inhaling in a closed room full of nitrogen and metal. It's descending faster than you can comprehend it.

You pull out your phone. Not to take a photo like any dumb influencer, but to play your song. The opening melody and harmony of Colors rings in the air, but everyone's too engrossed by the sheer scale of the asteroid to notice. It's borderline inaudible, almost drowned out by the whistle of the falling star above, but the lyrics are clear—that's all that matters.

You should be seeing your life flash before your eyes. Glimpses of your childhood and growing up, the inevitable fall out that led you to Korea and where you are now. None of that. Nothing really comes to mind, not even the girls that inspired this song. Just a preoccupied head more concerned about what's waiting on the other side than the end of all things.

Ahead of a small crowd gathered at the hill of Jeju's cliffs, you stand headfirst, facing the sun. The light becomes brighter by the second until it's blinding. You close your eyes—and smile.

The end.

—————

You wake to a shining light. This must be heaven—

Except you're still here. Still breathing. Staring the asteroid right in the face. 

It's up there, several thousand feet in the sky, its presence almost swallowing the entirety of the cliff you're standing on, but it's not moving anymore. Sure, it leaves a massive trail of smoke in its wake, but any forward—or downward—momentum has been completely shunted. 

Something is keeping the asteroid from falling. You look around and the others, too, are also suspended in frozen animation. Only you seem to be conscious and able to move around. But you don't go too far; you look up again and find the source holding it together: a small beam of light rising from the ocean, finding its way up to the hill. Purple, blue, white—it's every color of the spectrum all at once.

Instinctively, you close your eyes from its dazzling gleam. Its glare relaxes, even as bright and as colorful as it shines. Open them, and it's transformed into a ray punching into the asteroid's core. Still no source. And then—

They're right there. Facing the meteor. Surrounding you.

Hands raised to the sky, each one radiates the color associated with their youth, pouring their light into the asteroid, keeping it from falling any further. They're not real; this is all a figment of your imagination. The memories that were supposed to flash before you die. But no—they're actually pushing the planetoid back. They look exactly the way you or anyone last saw them: alive and in good spirits.

You can't speak. Your eyes remain wide, unable to maintain a gaze at any one of them. Sheer, utter disbelief. You want to hold out and feel them; you don't.

She finds the opportunity to glance at you. Beams.

"We've been waiting for you," Eunbi says, relaxing her arms, but still pouring her light into the beam. She shouldn't be here, but she's real. The voice, the frame—all clear to your senses. "I'm so happy we're still remembered like this."

"We've been waiting for the right time," Sakura clarifies, flicking her gaze at Chaewon. "And this is it."

Chaewon's eyes glance at the girls behind you, more specifically Yunjin, Kazuha, and Eunchae. "I'm so proud of what these girls have become. We're here. Always have been. Even when you couldn't see us, we were keeping track of everything. You remembered us. And we are so grateful."

Suddenly, the meteor groans, pushes down slightly. The girls wince, their faces straining as they're forced to lift their arms higher, exerting more effort than usual. It's a stalemate.

"We don't have a lot of time," Yujin states. "Well, we do. We can easily destroy this meteor, but we don't want to do it by ourselves."

"We want you to help us," Wonyoung adds. Her eyes tilt to the people behind you, encompassing the greater crowd, not just the ones still present. They land on Gaeul, Rei, Liz, and Leeseo, and she looks at each of them proudly. "All of you. The ones who still remembered. The ones who kept us alive."

They're not moving. Not at all. Their words confuse you at first, but you've seen stranger things. 

"What do I have to do?" you ask, panicked and desperate.

"Lift your hands," Chaeyeon answers, tilting her head, smiling. "Your light. It's just as powerful as the rest of ours."

But there's nothing resembling light coming out. 

"Are you sure?" You hesitate. 

"We are!" Yena shouts exuberantly. She reaches out her hand. At the same time, they begin floating. "Now come on. We can do this. Together."

For a moment, you don't follow. Part of you thinks this is all just a weird afterlife dream. That you're seeing ghosts. Hope manifesting through some forgotten nostalgia. But her hand is still there, waiting for you to take that leap.

Ultimately, you take her hand. It's warm. Solid. She's real. They all are. And before you know it, you begin levitating off the ground too. 

After only a few moments, Yena lets go; you don't fall. Rather, you're suspended in the air as they climb just a little higher, encircling right under the asteroid. 

"Come on. Join us," Hitomi urges. There's no urgency, merely a kind call to action. 

And just like the Apostle Peter, you struggle to find your footing. Not for lack of faith, but at the absurdity of it all: 12 ghosts making you face death like this. It feels like a rite of passage more than anything else. But you follow along, because a small fraction of you wants to believe.

Eventually, you catch up to their height. Several thousand feet in the sky. You're walking on air. 

"Lend us your light," Hyewon prods. "It's been in you the entire time."

Their light is getting stronger; the collective beam is slowly pushing back the asteroid. The shadow overhead is shrinking down to the edge of the cliff. They can singlehandedly shatter this meteor; you're just there as a private audience.

But they still reach out to you. To make you feel that you belong.

"Be here," Minju chimes in.

"We need you," Nako pleads.

"Trust us," Yuri adds last. "We miss you too. All of you. But we're so thankful you brought them together when we couldn't."

The meteor is pushing down once more. They struggle to hold the beam together. The light is flickering.

"Come on. You've given us this," Eunbi pertains to the people below. Maybe more than that. The thousands, hundreds of thousands, even millions, who still remember them. "Now help us repay the favor. And as an apology for not saying goodbye properly."

After a moment's contemplation, you hold out your arms. Slowly, still hesitating. Faith is the one thing pushing you forward when all seems lost. As your hands match level with theirs, light begins to pour from your palms. Colorless at first, but when it joins the group's beam, it changes into every one of each member before the collective ray turns to a bright green. The meteor is being thrust upward again; more importantly, it's starting to crack at its center.

"It's breaking," Sakura remarks, her brows narrowing. "A little more. We can do this."

The beam continues to change colors, going through each member's signature over and over. The asteroid groans; it's being pierced through the core, now a few feet into being punched through. Hairline fractures spread throughout the massive body, the cracks being filled by the devouring light.

"It's falling apart," you say, in awe at what's happening. There's no way you'll explain any of this without being sent off to a psych ward or a therapist. Or maybe this is just one last fever soaked dream before you died. Can go either way.

Nevertheless, the possibility of a miracle spurs you on. So you push. Extend your arms higher, giving it all that you have. You want this more than even they do. You're fueled by love, loss, faith, fear, hope, desperation, sorrow, joy—everything in between. It powers your light too. The meteor begins glowing brightly. 

"Almost," Yujin exclaims. "We're doing it! Just a little more—"

You don't know where this side of you came from, but you let out a roar that dissolves into background noise. As the world goes silent, you can feel the giant rock being crushed with your very hands. Down below, you can feel the earth tremble even from up in the sky. The girls are beginning to fade in and out too. The light has become as wide as the meteor itself—pure, distilled white hue. 

The light overwhelms your senses. The asteroid is all but consumed. The last thing you hear before you reach the other side, faint and almost imperceptible, a shared voice:

"Thank you. For everything."

—————

Might as well face the music.

Here's the cold, hard truth: they were gone. They've been gone. As in, it's not April 29, 2021 because you have that date marked on the calendar like Christmas or any other holiday, nor was it anything like three years ago, when contract negotiations were public and messy and there was reason to believe one or two of them would walk away forever. They did, all of them, but not in the way you expect careers to end: sudden, tragic.

The thing about death is that it comes without warning. One minute, you have a bright future and rest of your life ahead of you, the next you're collapsing during a fashion event and it's all for nothing. That's exactly what happened to Wonyoung. She was the first to go, and you can't come to terms with the cruel irony of her fate: she was the center, and she died as the center of attention. Natural causes, the doctors and coroners said, a byproduct of being too young and too in demand. It shook the entire industry, called into question whether she had been overworked to the bone (she was). She never complained; she was the consummate worker who kept things professional. Part of you believes she regrets signing that extension, but you'll never know.

Unsurprisingly, they were never the same after. Yujin tried her best to hold them together, but a reckless drunk driver was feeling too egotistical to let go of the wheel on a lonely night, and she paid the price. She was holding a Cherry plush in remembrance of her at the crime scene, which made her untimely demise all the more heartbreaking. The rest of the girls—they haven't had a comeback since then. Shelved, and probably for the best.

It's only these two so far, but part of you hurts remembering. And then there's the rest:

Chaewon had this nagging neck injury after that one accursed move that initially sidelined her for months. One slip in their dorm and then she was gone. Sakura found her half an hour later and rushed her to the hospital to no avail. She blamed herself not being there to save her on time, and it'd come full circle: a sasaeng pulled a knife on Kazuha during one of their fanmeets and she stepped in to take what would have been a hit to the stomach. Likewise, she was hospitalized but it was too late: she had bled out. HYBE kept the girls, promising to support them, but they never did. They were sidelined in favor of their newer groups. Yunjin saw the light and was trying desperately to terminate their contracts, but nothing came of it.

Eunbi was trying something different; she wanted to be an action star. Naturally, there were stunt sequences, and unlike others who opted for doubles, she insisted on doing them herself. A wire malfunction caused her to fly 30 feet into the air and crash facefirst into one of the buildings used for the set. Pure negligence on the production team and coordinator's part; that wire was reportedly having issues but they were saving costs and filming time. Another life carelessly lost. 

Hyewon's probably the one with the best outcome: she simply died of natural causes. She was found sound asleep in her apartment one day after watching anime the night before and never woke up. Too soon, everyone would say. Never had any underlying health issues that were publicly addressed, just someone who was never meant to stay here on this earth a long time.

Yena's past would come back to haunt her. Recurrence. She knew she was always on borrowed time, and while she would fight it at first, she recognized it was a losing battle. No wonder she gave it her all: every performance, every song, every time she talked, she spoke like it would be her last. And she shined brighter during her final moments than any other period. 

Chaeyeon loved her sister. That's a given. But she loved her so much that she didn't hesitate to give up her heart for transplant. A shared, undiscovered hereditary disease meant both of them were essentially ticking timebombs, and she wanted to make sure her sister could live to see another day. 

Hitomi loved her members. Took care of them as her own sisters and daughters. One rainy night, their van was speeding to the next schedule when it hydroplaned into a barrier on the highway. The car tumbled over and ended up upside down. She held onto the members as it crashed, and that's how they managed to survive. She was the only casualty of that accident.

Nako was at the wrong place at the wrong time. She was deep in the pit of a music festival when the crowd began pressing in after some maniac brought in a gun and opened fire. Suffocated and passed out as she tried to find shelter from the chaos. A bullet did not kill her, but the commotion that caused it did.

Yuri got into one of the messiest relationships ever. After co-starring as one of the leads in a critically acclaimed drama, she ended up falling in love with her co-star. They became an instant power couple, further sparked by more successful projects. Then he was caught cheating on her with a younger actress, but he denied the allegations and even proposed to Yuri as a way to save face. After getting exposed a second time with a different actress, he ended up getting into this heated argument with Yuri while driving and struck another car that ended up totaling their vehicle, killing them both on the spot.

Minju became the dying ember of an era. She had been to every single one of her member's funerals, and with each appearance, people could tell it affected her greatly. She was losing weight, getting more and more wrinkly despite her age, and didn't appear in public as much. The stress and heartbreak of losing everyone she loved proved to be too much, and she eventually suffered her own heart attack not long after Yuri's passing. She felt that she shouldn't have to go alone, and so she followed her in the afterlife.

One by one, the lights flickered in and out until there was none. It had been almost two years since Minju, the last of their legacy, passed. Truly nothing was ever the same. The groups, the people closest to them, the fans who still remembered—it was impossible to move on. The fact that they all went in near quick succession is haunting to think about. Like death specifically wanted them all, because being apart wasn't an option. They had to be together. They were family.

This was the lie that kept you going. You deluded yourself into believing they were together somewhere. Just not here; up there. Living their best lives. They had been talking about it, too. In the months leading to their departure, after the dust settled and contracts were made flexible, rumblings began. It was the worst kept secret in the world. Even their members got in on the act. Their schedules were clearing up specifically to make an album and a tour happen. This was the closure you were finally waiting over a decade for.

And then it wasn't. 

Everything else happened, and the dream was simply just that: a dream. While the world moved on and memories faded, you refused. The girls and the people they left behind couldn't. For them, it was more than losing an idol: it was losing a leader, a member, a sister, a friend. For you, it was your youth, your spark, a piece of your soul with every member's passing. And so it was. Little by little, you detached from the world until all twelve were gone. Truthfully, you died the same day Minju died; every day after was merely a corpse walking amongst the living, a puppet without its strings. 

And as you float along the line between the living and the dead, you realize that there's more to this life than staying in the past. The future can be scary sometimes. Nostalgia brings comfort. But that doesn't mean you have to be consumed by it. Like Nako once said, even when they're apart, the fact they existed means they happened. That they will always come at the right time.

That was the closure you got, but never fully understood. Until now.

—————

You find yourself lying on the ground somehow. 

The sun is still setting on the horizon. The evening breeze begins to settle. You scramble to your feet to see if the meteor is on its way down—and nothing. Just an orange sky giving way for starry night. But in its wake, sparkling dust as fine as snow slowly descends to the Earth, spreading throughout the sea and the cliffs where you stand. 

It's beautiful.

The crowd looks just as confused as you are. People are holding out their hands, catching stray drops, glistening and glowing in their palm. 

Eunchae is the first to vocalize it. "What—what just happened?"

No one speaks, initially. They're too in disbelief to make sense of anything. The closest explanation anyone has is from Leeseo, and even that sounds too farfetched: "It just—disintegrated. It was falling, we were all blinded by the light, and next thing you know, it was—gone."

A ripple of murmurs passes through the small congregation. Some say it actually dissolved upon entering the stratosphere. Others suggest the ocean swallowed it whole (but where's the massive hole in the earth's crust and why are the waters still there). You've got a few proclaiming divine intervention, doesn't matter which god. But you know the truth. What you saw felt the most real, because you experienced it up close and personal.

You just can't bring yourself to say it.

Because, first of all, you don't believe. Not fully. None of these people will, either, not even the girls. How can you explain articulately that the 12 ghosts you trauma bonded over appeared and helped you vaporize the asteroid on some anime bullshit. There's no plausible way to make your case without sounding like a deranged fan who needs a realty check.

None of that matters now. What's important is that you're here. Everyone is. Still breathing. Still alive.

Yunjin looks like she's on the verge of tears. She falls to her knees dramatically, the kind that's earned after an exhausting battle. "The world—"

She's overwhelmed with bliss and relief to finish her sentence. Can't find the words.

"It's still here," she manages. "We're still here."

The emotions from everyone else burst open. Laughter from the elderly, children's screams, hugs and sobs from friends, family, and lovers realizing they've been given a second chance at life and won't take it for granted again. 

And sure, you have no one to grab in the moment. You're acquaintances at best. But you look up at the sky and find solace knowing you're never alone. 

Minutes later, communications are restored. Everyone is celebrating. News channels and radio broadcasts return overjoyed, unable to contain themselves:

"The world as we know it, is well and truly safe—"

"Scientists are baffled—religious groups are calling for prayers of thanksgiving—"

"This is a story about the indomitable human spirit, says the Italian president—"

And the scenes. The absolute scenes around the world. People are breaking out into the streets hugging, crying, wreaking havoc out of sheer happiness. Bottles are popped. Flags are waved. Not in celebration for a city or a country, but for humanity as a whole.

Meanwhile, as night falls over Jeju, a massive campfire party is underway. The idols are singing like they've redebuted. Like they've found reason to perform again. 

You can hear their shouts and laughs from the cliff's peak. You've stayed behind, still thinking about the dream. About them. If it really was indeed their doing. You haven't brought it up to anyone even once, never hinted at it, and probably never will. Only after you eventually face your maker, and then you will find out the answer.

But that's for one day. Someday, but not today.

Until then, you look up at the sky once more. The moon is out. Comets and meteorites are flying past. And high in the cosmos, 12 stars are shining brighter than the rest. Their time may have gone, but as long as they live in your memories and hearts, they will always exist.

With one hand you reach out, similar to the way you shattered the asteroid together. Nothing emanates from your palm, but the moon reflects its light down. It's the closest you'll get to feeling them. And through the dark, you hold out the photo with the other, still untouched by the elements. Proof that they're alive.

You hold it close. You can hear their voices echo in your head.

I will show you my colors.

And you can't help but smile.

"Hey." Someone’s calling out, so you turn around. It's Yunjin. "We're about to have dinner. Come on. Let's eat."

"I'll be there shortly," you say. She grins as she walks away.

As you follow her into a future that's bright and promising, the stars above twinkle. Shifting into their colors without anyone noticing, they disappear. 

Forever written on the clouds.

————— (a/n: sorry this took long

originally, this was meant to be a secret "13th" day fic for iz*mas when i reposted the series on fanprose, but i didn't expect how lengthy this would end up being! I also wanted to do a disaster fic, heavily inspired by Armageddon and Deep Impact (you can tell i watched a bit of pointlesshub). if i hardly mentioned their names, it was a deliberate writing choice for the plot, but the twist feels kinda obvious tbh lol. i wanted their presence to permeate throughout the story but through the lens of different characters and what it would be like without them. not sure if they count as killing an idol since they do happen before the story starts, but i ended up explaining in gruesome detail how lol. something different before i embark on my most ambitious string of projects yet, thank you for reading! ♡)

“I heard that there’s a company get-together, so I want to boost everyone’s confidence with my presence.” She told you. “Why did no one invite me? I’m the boss, in fact, I should know it first, right?” She added that she absolutely had no idea how it works.

“Y-you don’t have to.” You can’t tell her that her presence makes them terrified instead. “They’re probably too shy to invite you to a small pub.” You thought of a reason why she won’t get offended.

“If I didn’t come, how do you plan to bring Ms. Baek home?” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel while she drove, “I did a good job, right?” She glanced at you briefly, lips curled into a satisfied smile. 

“Yeah, right.” You found yourself staring at her longer than intended, liking this side of her that’s also new to you. She’s really full of surprises.

“If I’m an ice cream, I’d already melt with that stare of yours.” She caught you staring without taking her eyes off the road. 

“Sorry, Ms Lee.” You cleared your throat and sat straight, regaining control all over your tipsy body.

“Come to think of it…” She paused for a second, and you were all ears on what she was about to say, “You can call me Jieun instead if we’re out of work.” She added that her suggestion is kind of absurd, levels beyond reality.

“H-huh? No, no way, I won’t dare to call you by your first name, Ms Lee.” You shook it off instantly. You can’t just call your boss without formality; it’s like calling someone to kill you on the spot, you shouldn’t step out of that boundary.

“Just do it, we’ve been together for five years, treat me as a friend for now since I’ll be your wife–”

“Lee Jieun!” You had to cut her off, gesturing at the back seat, telling her that Jiheon was still there.

“I said call me by my first name… NOT YELL AT ME!” She shouts back, louder than yours. She doesn’t care about whoever's with us.

“S-sorry… Jieun.” You apologized and said her name quietly.

“That’s it.” The car stopped, and the red glow of the traffic light shone on her face. Pretty and elegant, she’s still wearing the clothes from earlier, enough to tell you that she came to the pub from work.

“W-what do you mean?” The beer was still fogging your mind, partly no idea what she meant by her words.

“You just called me Jieun. I like it.” She’s happy, smiling ear to ear, looking at you.

“Okay, Jieun.” You accept your defeat and call her by her name, no hesitation and with sincerity this time around.

“...”

“...”

Your eyes met longer than they should, longer than most of the time.

“Yah! Just tell me if Lee Jieun bosses you around– huehuwhe– I’ll kick her ass for you–” Jiheon’s kicking her feet to the back of your seat and spouting nonsense.

“Aish! Yah– yah! Eat some fabric, it tastes good.” You had to muffle her mouth with your coat to shut her up the moment she mentioned your boss's name.

“...”

Jieun is staring blankly at her and you.

“She’s really drunk! That’s it, she didn't know what she was saying.” You panicked.

You and Jiheon had been hanging out often after work, ranting about the exhausting things that happened every day. She knows how hard Jieun is to you based on your stories, but you’re still adapting to that time, and now you’re fine with it.

“Mhhmm— hmm– Hmmgmpp– nyieun! (Jieun)” She’s speaking through her muffled mouth. If you didn’t silence her at that moment, you might not know what she would say now that the spirit of alcohol took over her body.

“Did she just call me by my name? I let it pass once, not twice! That girl— wow.” Jieun scoffed; she’s angry. That’s the reaction you’ve been expecting when you call her by her first name earlier.

“Let it pass again; she’s just drunk.” You try to calm her.

“The only one who can call me like that is you—” 

“Green light.” As you thought of a way to calm her, the red glow turned green.

“Tch.” She had no choice but to drive. She's a well-behaved citizen after all.

Upon seeing her childish side, you thought that calling her by her name was fine. She permitted you to do it, so there’s no complaining about it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll enjoy it in the near future.

She drove Jiheon into her home; apparently, she had already asked her brother, the vice president, to give her Jiheon’s data before we set off.

“Ughhh!” You had a hard time bringing Jiheon up to her apartment. There’s an elevator, but it's still a long walk since her unit’s at the very far end, what an inconvenience.

“Just drag her by her collar, hand, or hair? Anywhere.” Jieun is walking slowly with her arms crossed, clearly has no intention of helping at all.

“Hair? Seriously? And besides, I don't want to do that. I’ll look like I’m dragging a dead body at that point.” You’ll look like a murderer dragging a ragdoll across the hallway.

“Your choice.” She sighed; you could notice her boredom.

After a few more walks, you're finally in front of her apartment unit. It’s locked, of course, but the key’s with you since it happened to be a smart lock.

“Jiheon-ah…” You momentarily dropped her on the cold flooring since your arms were already numb and sore carrying her ever since she’s wasted.

“You two must be really close, calling her Jiheon and not Ms Baek— hey! Then why did you refuse to call me Jieun!?” Your boss poked you with the tip of her heel.

“It’s not like that, okay? You’re my boss, and she’s a secretary just like me; we’re in the same field, so it makes perfect sense we’re close.” You playfully slapped her toes, and she stepped back.

“Fine, whatever. Hurry up.” Her patience isn’t good either.

“Jiheon-ah… let me– ughh– God, she’s really heavy.” You used all the energy left in you to help her stand up.

“Let me borrow your thumb for a minute.” You gently asked for her permission to use her fingerprint on her door lock. Jieun watched you carefully; you could feel her eyes behind you, observing.

“Hmwuehe–” She giggled and spoke, but inaudibly. Good thing to know she’s still responsive and playful.

“What?” You tried to decipher her message, only to be laughed at by Jieun; her laugh was strangely irritating.

“Stop laughing like a villain.” You said to her while asking Jiheon for permission.

“Your coat.” Jieun still had her arms crossed, still looking around to ease her boredom, and kept laughing at the scene.

“Oh, right.” You forgot you muffled her mouth to prevent her from spilling tea about everything you said about Jieun.

“Jiheon-ah, can we use your—” You asked her one more time, for some reason, you don’t want to barge into her house without any consent.

“Hurry up, it’s late. Someone might see us.” Jieun is making it look like you're abducting someone.

Come to think of it, you entered the apartment carrying an unconscious woman with a coat wrapped around her mouth beside a CEO who is so cold enough to look like a mafia boss.

You really did look like kidnappers.

“Ms Lee— Jieun, stop saying that. We’re looking like we’re really abducting her.” Gesturing to her to even lower her voice.

“Then we’re a bunch of idiot bad guys, asking our victim for consent to use her fingerprint to unlock the door.” Her eyes shift in annoyance.

“It’s up to you… If we’re mistaken as a bad person, you’re the one who’s the boss.” Teasing her that she might be the first to be in trouble instead of an underling like you.

“But I’m your boss… hurry up before I order you to finish her up—” She kicked the floor in boredom.

“I said stop that.” She’s behaving way differently than she used to be.

“Fine.” She said, and that’s it.

“Jiheon-ah, let me…” You held Jiheon straight and used her thumb for verification.

The smart lock recognized her fingerprint, and the door opened. As you slipped through the door, Jiheon’s body swayed.

Thud!

“AAWWuoH!” Her head knocked on the door jamb.

“Oh shit, sorry… I’m so sorry…” You felt really sorry; it sounds like it hurts. She still has the whole Sunday to treat her swollen bump.

“Poor door jamb.” You heard Jieun’s mutter and shot a glare at her. “I’ll poke your eyes, hurry up.” She saw you, and that made your heart jump in fear for a second.

“You’re not helping– uoghh.” Jiheon slid down, so you pulled her up once more, slowly walking inside.

“I’m not helping someone who called me by my name without my consent.” She walked behind you and turned the lights on for you.

After a slow walk that felt like days worth of gym.

“Arghh— she’s damn heavy.” You dropped Jiheon onto her sofa; you didn’t even dare bring her to her bed to respect her privacy.

“Are you still at it? She’s drunk; please just spare her.” You fixed your clothes, took a deep breath, and prepared to leave.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” She followed you behind as she closed the door.

Walking back to her car, you offered to drive her home since you had already sobered up. But she responds with a scolding and insists on driving for you. Reasoning that you still drink, the alcohol won’t pass in just an hour or two.

The ride went smoothly, no traffic, and she stopped in a bright place, too bright that it’s impossible to be your apartment.

“Why are we here? Do you want something to eat?” You looked outside, it’s a convenience store.

“No, buy some coffee for yourself, decaf.” She handed over her card, a sleek black one that screams power and royalty. The golden embossed design and her company’s logo are too much.

“...”

“What? I don’t have cash.” She shook the card, asking you to take it.

“No, I’ll use mine.” You stepped out of the car and bought everything you needed.  All you bought was an energy drink, menthol candy, and menthol patches. No coffee.

While she drove you back to your home, you realized how far she is from you. Funny how she is still insisting on marrying you.

“...”

“We’re here.” The car stopped with a quiet screech of the brakes.

“Thank you, Jieun. A few more hours and the sun will rise again. You should go back now.” You stepped out of the car and inhaled the familiar cold breeze near your home.

It’s already late at night, and establishments around your apartment building have had their lights shut off. It’s quiet; the streets are already in their deep sleep.

“Take your rest; tomorrow’s Sunday, so you can sleep more.” She stepped out of the car as well, walking towards you.

“You won’t call me, right? No more night calls for tonight?”

“Why? You want me to?” She chuckled, “Just tell me, I could stay for tonight and have a talk with you.”

“...”

Her smile was a slow poison, spreading through every corner of your body. You’re aware of how dangerous she was, but this time, she exudes a different kind of danger. Your heart beat faster as your eyes met with hers.

“Hmm.” Her chuckle breaks the tension between you.

“Uhh…” You didn’t know what to say and just started looking around.

“...”

“So, do you want me to stay?” She took a step forward, her eyes shining while waiting for your answer. She leaned closer, little by little, until you could make out the fine details of her face. Her breath touches you, and enough to make you blush.

“I–” If she could hear your heartbeat, you’re done.

You did not want to assume, but you felt like she was playing with you. You felt like a moth, slowly drawn toward her flame. 

“...”

She stopped, her eyes playfully looked around, she does that whenever she’s flustered,

“Uhmm– never mind, you said that the sun will rise soon. Take a rest.” She took a step back and turned around. You can see her hand checking her face before turning back to face you.

“...”

Silence, you just kept staring at her.

“Wait, really? Do you want me to stay for the night?” She blinked in confusion,

“Huh?” You snapped from your deep thoughts.

“I know I asked you for marriage, but isn’t it too fast—” Now she took it the wrong way, and way too far. “Are you really that… still…” She added, fanning herself with her hands.

“You know the marriage is contractual, right? So doing it…” She added that, before you can even defend yourself, she even bit her lip while acting flustered.

“No, it’s not like that! Stop it… I think I’m still tipsy.” You shook your head. You should regain the secretarial composure you always wore. This isn’t like you, but she isn’t herself either!

“I know, so rest.” She let out a laugh, and you joined her as well.

“Thank you again, Jieun. Have a nice night.” You bowed; you can call her by her name, but you’ll still have to treat her as your boss.

“Good night.”

You slowly raised your head.

She said it again; it genuinely came from her without teasing, mocking, and joke,

Her words gave warmth to you in the cold night. The moth in you is starting to fly near her fire, but she did not hurt you; instead, you could feel that she shared her fire on your cold heart.

“Good night.” You respond. 

Both of you shared a smile, the cold breeze turned into warmth, and every word coming from both of you in that moment was full of affection and sincerity.

You watched her car disappear in the streets before entering your apartment, the stars lighting up the dark sky, and the silence now hugs you with comfort. You wanted to rest, and you thought you would definitely have a deep sleep after what had just happened.

As you recall what happened in a week, you can’t help but to anticipate what’s coming next while still being worried.

There’s been a lot of first times in the past few days; this moment might be your favorite.

Karina turned, a small smirk playing on her lips. Her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder. “Thanks. But I’m tired of being amazing for everyone else right now.” She stepped closer, fingers tracing the collar of your shirt. “I want to be selfish tonight. With you.”

Your pulse jumped. This thing between you had been building for months—stolen glances during van rides, late-night texts, the occasional brush of hands that lingered too long. Tonight felt different. Like she’d finally decided to stop holding back.

She pulled you into a kiss that started soft but quickly turned hungry. Her body pressed against yours, soft curves molding perfectly. You cupped her face, deepening the kiss until she sighed into your mouth. When you broke apart, her eyes were already hazy with want.

“Bedroom,” she whispered.

Clothes came off in a trail across the suite. By the time you reached the king-sized bed, she was in nothing but black lace panties, and you were down to your boxers. Karina pushed you onto your back and climbed on top, straddling your thighs. Her hands slid down your chest as she leaned in for another kiss.

She worked her way lower, kissing and nipping at your skin until she reached the waistband of your boxers. She tugged them down, freeing your cock—already hard and throbbing for her. Karina wrapped her elegant fingers around the base and gave a slow, teasing stroke.

“Been thinking about this,” she murmured, looking up at you through her lashes. She leaned down and took you into her mouth, warm and wet and perfect. Her head bobbed slowly at first, tongue swirling around the head, then faster. The sight of Karina—global it girl—sucking you off like this was almost too much. You groaned, hand gently threading through her hair.

She pulled off for a second, stroking you firmly with her hand while catching her breath. “You’re so big… love how you feel.” Then she was back on it, taking you deeper, jerking the base in time with her mouth until your hips were bucking up involuntarily.

You had to stop her before you finished too soon. “Karina—wait. Want to feel you.”

She smiled, wiping her lips. You flipped her onto her back and kissed down her body, paying special attention to her breasts. They were full and soft, nipples already hard. You sucked one into your mouth while kneading the other, drawing pretty moans from her. Then you positioned your cock between them.

“Fuck my tits,” she said breathlessly, pressing them together around you.

The feeling was incredible—soft, warm flesh enveloping you as you started thrusting. Karina looked up at you, tongue occasionally darting out to lick the tip when it got close to her mouth. You groaned at the sight, hips moving faster, the slick slide driving you crazy. She squeezed tighter, watching your face with dark, satisfied eyes.

“Gonna come if you keep that up,” you warned.

“Do it. On my chest.”

You did, spilling across her tits with a deep groan. She looked stunning covered in you—flushed and breathing hard. You grabbed a warm towel from the bathroom and cleaned her gently, but she pulled you back down before you could finish.

“I need you inside me,” she whispered.

You slid her panties off and spread her legs. She was soaked. You rubbed your cock against her folds before pushing in slowly, savoring every inch. Karina’s back arched, a soft gasp escaping as you bottomed out.

“Move… please.”

You started thrusting, deep and steady. Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. The position let you kiss her while you fucked her—messy, open-mouthed kisses that matched the rhythm of your hips. You could feel her tightening around you already.

Switching things up, you pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach. She got on all fours, ass up, looking back at you over her shoulder with that signature Karina confidence mixed with need. You gripped her hips and slid back in, the new angle making her moan louder.

“Harder,” she demanded.

You gave it to her, pounding deep. The sound of skin slapping filled the room. You reached around to rub her clit, and she came hard, clenching around your cock with a cry of your name. You kept going, chasing your own release, then flipped her back over so you could see her face when you finally came inside her, filling her up as she trembled through the aftershocks.

You collapsed beside her, both of you sweaty and spent. Karina curled into your side immediately, head on your chest, one leg thrown over yours.

“Special privilege, huh?” you teased, running fingers through her hair.

She laughed softly, the sound tired but happy. “Only for you. Don’t let it go to your head, manager-nim.”

“Too late.” You kissed the top of her head. “But I’ve got you. Always.”

She hummed contentedly, tracing patterns on your stomach. The city lights twinkled outside while the two of you stayed tangled together, the weight of schedules and cameras forgotten for a few precious hours.

“Everything’s done… okay!” You looked at your checklist, and everything’s marked up. You’re also done checking her schedules, arranging her appointments for the week, and setting up meetings with the executives.

Today is Monday, the cruelest day of the week for you.

“...”

Now all you had to do was wait for her call and order.

“...”

“Hmm, she looked busy…” You heard her earlier yelling at the accounting director and executives regarding the misuse of their department's budget. You also submitted a formal request to the legal team to investigate that matter earlier that morning.

“Why do they always do bad things?” You shook your head, but this kind of thing isn’t new to you. Just this year, the company has won countless legal battles against internal corruption.

“Should I get her a coffee?” You thought and stood up. “No, let’s… just do what I always do, wait.” You sat back down in your seat.

Silence filled the office.

No phone calls.

No emails.

No executives running for their lives.

“…”

Your gaze slowly drifted toward the drawer. Inside it was the most dangerous paper in the world, the one she gave you the other day, her love letter.

“Should I take a look at it?” You scanned the surroundings first, then heightened your alertness twice as usual, assuring no one would ever see it except you.

After making sure none of the employees were looking your way, you slowly opened the drawer. 

“Aish.” You shut the drawer instantly the moment you got a glimpse of the forbidden letter.

Just seeing those cringy hearts and scarlet kiss marks gave you goosebumps.

“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with her?” Despite her cold exterior, a different level of boldness lies within.

You opened the drawer again, as slowly as you could, bracing for the insane amount of incoming embarrassment and cringeness.

You stared at the letter for a moment. Those heart stickers moved as if they were beating, and you could hear smooches inside your head every time you saw those kiss marks.

“Okay, let’s see what’s inside.” You opened it carefully.

Even if it makes you cringe, you treat it preciously. When was the last time you got a love letter from someone? You got two during your high school days. It’s not like every day you’ll receive something like it, especially coming from your boss.

“Hearts… seriously.” You resisted it- impressive; now you’re looking at it.

“...”

“What’s with this perfect handwriting?” She basically wrote in calligraphy; the beauty of her handwriting matches her so well.

You read it; she used the cheesiest words you could’ve imagined.

To my beloved future husband—

“Sighed. Right at the start, I can do this.” You resumed reading.

Do you know which one of us is the ant?

It’s either you or me,

Both of us are attracted to something sweet,

Just call my name, I’ll be the sweetest for you—

You stop halfway.

“Oouh! H-h-how did she even write this!?” Even though the aircon blew a fair coldness into the air, a violent shiver still racked your body, raising goosebumps along your bare arms.

“Okay, fifty percent more…” You resumed reading, and it got cheesier.

Love isn’t something like business,

But I’m willing to use my own ways to acquire you,

Like I did when I bagged millions,

However, you…

You’re worthless, not in a bad way,

You’re immeasurable.

So, marry me, baby…

You read the last three lines again, that’s twice, then a third time.

Your face was still burning from the first half of the letter.

But somehow, the embarrassment had become harder to distinguish from something else.

"...What kind of confession is this?” You start to regret reading it, “And… baby!?” The last word caught you off-guard, literally.

“How could she casually call me baby in this letter!?” It’s just a letter; now you imagine what more if you agreed to be her partner?

“...”

“It’s… something else– aish!” Right through the end, there’s another kiss mark instead of a signature.

Mwah.

It’s sweet, of course. The content’s considered a love letter based on how it was written, but something's bothering you.

“Her love letter… is a mix of formal and casual… what a combination.” The letter consisted of proper margins, proper sentence construction as if AI made it, and even a formal letterhead. What kind of love letter uses letterhead?

“...’

Without knowing it, you’re already smiling, fingers hovering on the side of the letter. It amazes you how different it is from Lee Jieun, you know.

“How cute…” From cringing at it to playfully re-reading it once more–

Ring! Ring!

The sudden ring of the telephone shook you. You rapidly folded the letter and put it back in your drawer. You looked around before taking the call, making sure that no one still knew about that sacred letter.

You fixed your coat and posture and took the call.

“Yes, Ms. Lee? Yes, I’m coming.” She called you to her office. There it is, the call you were waiting for.

Before entering, you fixed your coat once more. You should conceal every trace of reaction to her letter, or else she would know that she’s getting inside you, and that’s what she likes.

After two light knocks, you stepped inside. She was already in her lounge chair, coffee resting between elegant fingers. Her office shades were off, and the bright afternoon sun lit up her entire office.

You just felt like, ever since that absurd marriage proposal, even her office no longer felt cold. Despite that bad morning, she remained calmer than usual.

“Hmm, sit.” She offered the seat across from her.

“Thank you.” You took her offer and sat across from her. “Why did you call me, Ms Lee?” You added, she called you for a reason.

She placed her coffee down and picked up something that had been sitting beside her.

“Take this.” She placed the gift on the table and pushed it lightly towards you.

Your gaze landed on it. The gift was small, almost like a notebook— no, it’s a notebook. Why did she even bother wrapping it if anyone could clearly see what it was?

“Thank you, Ms Lee.” You chuckled as you took it, tracing the outline of the gift.

“Hmm, what’s funny?” She squinted her eyes, tilted her head, and wondered confusedly why you were laughing.

“Ehem, nothing, ma’am.” A sharp knife almost cut your throat for a second; better stop laughing at her lovely decisions.

“...”

You flipped the gift upwards and sideways as if looking for something, a thing that you want to be aware of if it exists.

“You’re looking for something?” She watched you look at every side of the gift.

“I’m looking for something scary… like some kind of trademark…” You kept looking.

“Trademark?”

“Just making sure no kiss mark on it.” You tried to tease her a little; it’s actually the first time you’ve tried it.

“...”

Her expression dropped; she was not amused.

“J-just kidding.” You pulled your joke in an instant.

“Give it back.” She said flatly.

“S-sorry, Ms Lee.” You shouldn’t have even tried teasing her. You thought you had become close enough, but it turned out to be a lie.

“You shouldn’t be sorry. If you’re looking for a kiss mark, I can simply put one.” Her cold expression turned into something seductive; it seems like there’s a switch within her that can shift her expression in an instant.

“...”

One beat, two beats, three… your heart beats rapidly.

It’s not the same hazard you feel every day whenever you’re sitting in her office.

She’s dangerous… attractive.

He opened his mouth to answer.

Nothing came out.

But why was your heart beating this fast?

“Gulped. Ms. Lee.” You stood up, avoiding eye contact with her at all costs. “Thank you again for t-the gift.” You bowed and excused yourself.

“Huh? I didn’t let you go yet— hey–” You didn’t even turn to her once, even if she’s calling you.

If it’s the old Jieun you knew, you’re already trembling in fear, but…

But you can tell she’s not that mad.

You can hear her giggles behind her words; she’s happy.

Thud.

You collapsed into your chair the moment you exited her office. You took a deep breath before diagnosing yourself on what’s going on.

“W-what’s that? W-why does my heart keep thumping? Hey! Stop! Seriously.” You put your hand on your chest. It’s even harder to breathe.

“I should go see a doctor—” You let your own words process through your brain, “No. I can’t tell my doctor that it starts when she offers to kiss the gift–” There you go, you remembered it once more…

Mwah.

“Aish!” You dropped the gift onto your table when you thought of her kissing it. The vision’s too clear just to be a thought: her expression, her skin, and her scarlet-covered lips.

“But what’s with the gift all of a sudden?” You stared at the gift for a moment. You sat up straight and gently opened it.

“It’s nice. Leather cover, thick sheet, and… a letter?” There was a letter at the back of the notebook.

As you thought it was simply a gift, you hesitated; it might be another formal, margined love letter from her.

Slowly… you take a look at it.

“No hearts… no kiss marks…” You let out a sigh of relief. She surely doesn’t have a plan to give up.” But the main thing that amazes you is how persistent she is.

It’s not another cheesy love letter; it’s a marriage contract.

“What am I gonna do to you? Ms Lee?” Behind those questions, there’s a bit of happiness that you can’t explain, but your smile at that moment knows why.

Sniff. Sniff.

“Hmm?”

Sniff. Sniff.

That familiar scent lingered in the air. You recognized it immediately, followed by the soft clicks of heels across the marble floor.

After a few seconds, she popped up, Baek Ji– hell boy.

“Pfft–” You let out a loud laugh just by seeing the swollen lump caused by the door jamb last Saturday evening. You knew you were partly responsible for that swollen lump, yet you couldn't stop yourself from laughing.

“Don’t laugh.” She gestured that she'd cut your throat if you kept laughing.

“Sorry about that.” You apologized but half-mean it; she looks like half devil, half angel.

“Hey, tell me, what really happened?” She closed in; her perfume hits your senses much stronger than before; it brings back memories.

“Your mouth almost gives us trouble, and that… you got your forehead kissed by the door jamb.” You pushed her forehead with your index, “That’s why you should drink moderately; you always drink wasted.” You scolded the girl who is usually bright but now’s groaning in pain.

“Did you have hangover soup or medicine?” You asked her, and she simply shook her head.

“As usual.” She answered, “As usual…” You agreed.

You rustled something from your bag and pulled out a hangover medicine you got before coming to work.

“Here, I was about to go down to your desk before going home, take it.” You hand over the medicine to her.

“You always do this. Thanks!” She took it and drank it right away.

What she meant is that you always bought her hangover medicine; it’s not because you’re obliged to, but you just care for her. Both of you are willing to listen to each other’s story and drink the night away together with your stressful thoughts.

“Pwahh! Ohh… it hits the spot.” She groaned in relief. “Do you have medicine for the swollen lump as well?” You poked her forehead.

“Pfft–” There it goes again, the unstoppable laugh.

“Stop it.” Her death stare came back as well, which immediately stopped you from bursting out laughing.

“Sorry, just put ice on it.” You told her, obviously the first thing to do.

“I already did! In fact, it’s much smaller this time around.” She knocked at your table for attention.

“Really? I should’ve waited for it to grow so I could have a chance to take a photo of it.” You teased her, but she just laughed at it this time around.

“...”

“Oh right, what brings you here?” You got distracted by her bubble forehead and forgot that she might need something from your boss.

“Oh, yeah… Is Ms Lee in?” You went back to her secretary facade, just like you.

“Yeah, she’s inside; you may come in.” You gestured that she may come in at any moment since Jieun’s available.

“Thanks!” She happily responded and turned her back to you.

“Uhh, Ms Baek.” You called her a few steps after she walked her way to her office. She stopped.

“Hmm?” She lightly turned sideways, enough to face you.

“If she ever asked you what you were supposed to call her, just address her Ms Lee.” You reminded her of the formalities; you just remembered how annoyed Jieun was when Jiheon called her by her first name last time.

She was drunk at that time, sure, but it’s better to be safe.

“Why? It’s pretty obvious, don’t worry.” She nods; she definitely had no idea what she had done.

She disappeared behind your boss’s office.

“Yeah, why would I worry? You’re not drunk right now.” You nod and simply smile.

*****

The next day, inside the boardroom, her voice echoed like thunder. Her wrath was so terrifying that your hands trembled while recording the session, and your handwriting became so messy. You didn’t even dare to raise your head and look at her; you simply focused on typing everything being said.

“Why did the sales drop!? It’s because you’re lacking! Do I really always have to look for solutions!?”

“Where did the funds go!? In your pocket or wastage!? Submit a liquidation report within the day— no, right now!”

“Don’t ever show your face to me again! You, you, and you! Go out and don’t ever think of coming back to work again!”

A pen became a plane, papers transformed into solid balls, and water bottles turned to missiles. And there’s even a flying folder; it’s not magic, it’s sorcery from a witch.

Her hands became the hammer of judgment every time she smashed them on the conference table, judging an executive officer’s fate.

“...”

Everyone’s trembling, the executives trembling in fear while Jieun’s trembling in anger. Those bastards had nothing to do except to annoy her; not just your boss, they're getting into your skin as well.

A few more dragons’ roars, more flying things, and more curses.

“The meeting was adjourned.” She announced while her eyes closed; anger still overflowed.

“Thank you, Ms. Lee!” They bowed to her in perfect unison. Like synchronized swimmers, but after being drowned by her anger, instead, they barely survived.

“...”

The bad guys got out of the boardroom one by one; some talked, and you bet they were talking about her. You wanted to cut their throat at that moment, if you could just do that.

You let the silence be her temporary paradise.

“I’ll get the car ready.” You stood up.

“No, stay for a while.” She rested her whole body in her chair. “Please.” She wanted you to stay; the please is not necessary since you’re willing to do as she says.

“Yes, I will.” You sat back.

She was restless and obviously tired after what just happened. You just observed, thinking about how exhausting the day was for her.

“Do you want some cold water or coffee? I’ll get you some.” You offered her something to help ease her stress.

“No.” She refused, still had her eyes closed.

“How about a snack? Chocolate? Cheese?” You offered something to boost her energy instead. You just wanted to help with anything you could.

“No.” She refused once again.

“Then how about some—”

“You.” Her words stopped you from talking, not just your mouth; your whole world stopped.

“...”

She finally moved, slightly tilted her head towards you, and opened her eyes, still droopy and lacking energy.

“I want you.” She repeated once more, different from earlier, but it had the same meaning. It went straight to your heart and mind.

“Me?” You’re confused by what she meant by it, though you're already well aware of what she really meant.

“Hold my hand.” She reached out her hand, waiting for you to hold it. Her hands were pale and small, in contrast to how big she was when standing against those corrupted executives earlier.

“Ms. Lee.” You hesitated. You’re just a mere secretary; how dare you hold a princess's delicate hand?

“Just hold it; I’m your boss, right?” Her lips lightly curled up; she knew you couldn’t refuse her since what she was asking was just your hand. “I need to recharge; you’re my energizer for now. Hurry, my arm’s getting tired.” She added, wiggling her fingers.

“...”

You lost; you can’t refuse, and for some reason, you don’t want to refuse.

“Seriously.” You smiled and took it. She smiled the moment you grabbed her hand.

She gripped it tighter, its softness serving as a cushion not to hurt you. That's what she was: soft, but she didn’t dare to show it to others; you knew that it was exclusively just for you.

“Five minutes.” She closed her eyes.

She looked peaceful, the most vulnerable version of her you ever saw. You watched her take her much-needed rest.

For consideration, you slid your chair closer, without snapping her hands off yours.

She’s like an angel; you didn’t think she was roaring like crazy earlier.

“...”

“Those scumbags, if I only had some power to teach them a lesson.” You muttered; you’re always mad at them since all they ever do is wrong.

“Hmm, you want to teach them a lesson? Then marry me. We’ll teach them a lesson.” She heard you and spoke without opening her eyes; she even let out a soft giggle.

“Yes… But that can wait.” You gripped her hand tighter. “Rest.” You added.

“Hmm.” She hummed, the sound of approval.

Her five-minute rest turned into a two-hour sleep. 

You didn’t wake her up.

You didn’t move an inch to prevent her from waking up.

You just want her to have her comfort.

Her rest.

That’s a fat happy baby.

Eunbi had the thought before she could stop it, which was a little embarrassing. Still, the baby in question was currently beaming up at her from the hallway with the full-body joy only toddlers could manage — cheeks round as persimmons, a little fist shoved halfway into her mouth. Eunbi crouched down instinctively.

“Well, hello there, little miss.”

The baby — Mira, though Eunbi didn’t know that yet — responded by babbling something that might have been a greeting or might have been a declaration of war. Hard to tell with toddlers. Either way, she was very committed to it.

Eunbi was in the middle of babbling back when she heard movement behind the stroller and straightened up.

She was not prepared.

The man was big. That was the first thing. Not just tall — she was used to people being taller than her, that was most of the population — but large in a way that filled the hallway, broad-shouldered and solid, the kind of frame that made the standard apartment corridor feel like it had been built slightly too small. He’d clearly been juggling groceries and a diaper bag and whatever else, and he turned around with the distracted energy of someone who had not expected company.

Neither had she, for that matter.

Eunbi looked up at him. He looked down at her. Mira continued her political speech.

Oh, Eunbi thought, with a clarity that surprised her. Just oh. Something in her chest did something she didn’t have a word for.

“Hi,” she said, because she was a grown adult and capable of speech. “I’m Eunbi.”

The man blinked. Then, from somewhere in his arms, a small voice piped up.

“Mommy?”

Mira was staring at Eunbi with an expression of profound hope. Eunbi’s heart did something catastrophic.

I could be a mommy, said a voice in the back of her brain, completely unprompted and deeply unhinged.

Excuse me? said the rest of her brain.

She had no time to investigate this further because the man was already turning to the baby with the practiced patience of someone who had explained this before. “No, baby. Not mommy.”

Mira considered this information, deemed it unsatisfactory, and looked at Eunbi again as if waiting for a second opinion.

The man turned back with a tired but genuine smile, the kind that deepened the corners of his eyes. “Sorry about that. She meets a woman, and she decides it’s her mommy. Every time.”

Eunbi had her mouth carefully closed over everything her subconscious was apparently willing to volunteer. “It’s fine,” she said. “Really. No big deal.”

He looked grateful in a way that felt like more than politeness. Like maybe he’d been braced for something worse.

“I’m Ozymandias,” he said. “But you can call me Ozzy.”

“Ozzy,” she repeated, like she was filing it away. “You just moved in?”

“Three weeks ago.” He shifted the grocery bag to his other arm. “Wanted to be closer to Mira’s grandma.”

Mira, having apparently decided that the conversation had gone on long enough without her participation, leaned out of his arms toward Eunbi with both hands extended. It was less of a request and more of a demand.

Eunbi accepted her before she’d consciously decided to. The baby settled against her shoulder like she’d done it a hundred times.

“She doesn’t usually—” Ozzy started.

“It’s okay.” Eunbi adjusted her grip, and Mira made a small satisfied sound and grabbed a fistful of her hair. “I don’t mind.”

They stood there for a moment. Down the hall, the elevator dinged.

“She doesn’t look like you,” Eunbi said carefully, not quite sure how to phrase what she was trying to ask.

Ozzy’s expression shifted — not hurt, just familiar with the question. “She’s adopted. Technically my goddaughter.” A beat. “Both her parents passed.”

“Oh.” Eunbi looked down at Mira, who was now examining her earring with the focused intensity of a jeweler. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

He nodded, quiet about it.

The elevator ride up was four floors and mostly silent in a comfortable way rather than the awkward one, which surprised Eunbi a little. Mira dozed off somewhere between the second and third floor, going heavy and warm against Eunbi’s shoulder with the sudden totality that only babies could manage, like someone had flipped a switch.

Ozzy watched this happen and said nothing. He looked like a man trying not to disturb something fragile.

At the door, he fished for his keys one-handed, eased it open, and turned to take Mira back. The baby woke up just enough to realize what was happening and registered her objection immediately — a low, building sound that was about to become something much louder.

Eunbi and Ozzy both froze.

The sound subsided. Mira’s fist tightened in Eunbi’s hair.

Eunbi met Ozzy’s eyes over the baby’s head. He looked exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with tonight specifically and everything to do with the past however-many months. She recognized that look. She’d seen it on her sister after the first year of motherhood — that particular flavor of love that was also just barely holding on.

“I can stay for a bit,” she heard herself say.

He exhaled — not quite a sigh, more like something releasing. “I’ll make dinner.”

“You don’t have to—”

“You’re holding my kid.” He was already moving toward the kitchen. “Minimum I can do.”

Eunbi looked down at Mira, who had gone back to sleep with absolute conviction.

“Do your worst,” Ozzy said from around the corner, which she realized after a moment was aimed at her, not the refrigerator.

She almost laughed. “That’s my line.”

The kitchen smelled incredible within twenty minutes.

Eunbi had expected something serviceable — bachelor-dad cooking, the kind of meal that got the job done and didn’t ask for applause. What she had not expected was Ozzy moving through the kitchen like he actually knew what he was doing, pulling ingredients with the casual confidence of someone who cooked because he liked it, not because he had to.

“My dad’s recipe,” he said, without looking up from the roux he was building. “Chicken Alfredo Mac and Cheese. It is the only thing that guarantees a clean bowl.”

“High praise.”

“From a 22-month-old? It’s basically a Michelin star.”

Behind her, the living room had become a disaster in the best possible way.

Mira had apparently decided that the short nap had fully restored her and was now conducting a comprehensive tour of her belongings. She produced items from a fabric bin with the energy of a host unveiling auction lots — a yellow ball, a red ball, a ball that was technically a cube but that Mira called a ball anyway and Eunbi didn’t have the heart to correct, two small wooden figures, and then a vinyl Ultraman about four inches tall, paint worn at the edges from handling.

“Auraman,” Mira announced, holding him up.

“Auraman,” Eunbi confirmed seriously as she flexed her muscles. “Very strong?”

Mira nodded with her whole body.

Then came a collection of small wooden sticks that Eunbi turned over in her hands, genuinely puzzled. They were smooth, slightly tapered, and notched at one end. Some kind of puzzle pieces maybe, or parts of something she didn’t recognize. She tried fitting two together. Nothing happened.

Mira watched her struggle for a moment, then took them back with the patience of someone who had seen this before, and slotted four of them together into a shape that Eunbi still couldn’t identify but that clearly meant something to Mira, because she held it up with quiet pride.

“Okay,” Eunbi said. “You’re smarter than me.”

Mira seemed to find this reasonable.

They went through the rest of the bin. Eunbi named things when she knew them and asked questions when she didn’t, and Mira answered everything with a mix of actual words, sound effects, and gestures that Eunbi found she could follow more often than not. It had its own grammar. She just had to listen for it.

I could get used to this.

The thought arrived the same way the last one had — quietly, without asking permission, already halfway settled in before she noticed it.

We are going to have a very long conversation later, said the rest of her brain.

Sure, said that part. Later.

“Ready.” Ozzy set a bowl on the table and pulled off his apron. “I’m going to put Mira down and come back — please, help yourself. Don’t wait on my account.”

Eunbi got up and served herself a portion that she told herself was moderate and that was probably not. The first bite confirmed what the smell had promised.

She was halfway through when she heard Mira’s protests from down the hall, then the low register of Ozzy’s voice talking her down, then quiet. Five minutes later he reappeared, picked up the scattered toys with the automatic efficiency of someone who’d stopped seeing it as a task, and dropped into the chair across from her.

He looked at her bowl. She looked back at him, unashamed.

“Dad’s recipe,” she said. “he’s right.”

Something in his face relaxed.

He served himself and they ate in easy quiet for a moment before Eunbi set down her fork and looked at him properly.

“You do the whole single dad thing pretty well, you know.”

Ozzy shrugged, the way people did when they wanted to accept a compliment but couldn’t quite get there. “I try.” He turned his bowl slightly on the table — a thinking habit, maybe. “We were at the doctor's today. Mira got diagnosed with ADHD.”

Eunbi waited.

“They want to talk about medication options.” He said it evenly, but she could hear what was underneath it. “She’s 22 months old.”

“She’s 22 months old and she’s walking and holding full conversations.”

“Conversations are generous—”

“Ozzy, she gave me a twenty-minute briefing on every toy in that bin. She has opinions about Auraman.” Eunbi pointed toward the living room. “She told me which ball was fastest.”

He laughed at that — a real one, surprised out of him. “The yellow one, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah.” The laugh faded into something softer. He was quiet for a moment. “She’s technically ahead on a lot of milestones. The ADHD diagnosis is early, the doctor said it might shift as she gets older, but they want to stay ahead of it. Which I understand. I do.” He pushed food around his bowl. “It’s just one more thing on a plate that already has too much on it.”

Eunbi watched him. That wasn’t the whole of it — she could tell. The spiral underneath had a different shape than a medical diagnosis.

“She needs to learn English and Spanish and Korean,” he continued. “So she can actually talk to both sets of grandparents. I have to figure out how to build that in early enough that it sticks. And then there’s the developmental stuff, and the appointments, and—”

“Ozzy.”

He stopped.

“What’s actually going on?”

He looked at her. She looked back, patient, not letting him redirect.

A beat. Then: “Mira’s maternal grandparents don’t think I’m a good fit.”

The air in the room changed slightly.

“They keep saying she needs a mother and a father.” He didn’t say it bitterly. That was almost worse — it had the sound of something he’d already processed down to something flat and factual. “They’re not wrong that she’s missing something. I know that. I just—” He stopped. “I don’t know what they want me to do about it.”

“Are they trying to contest the adoption?”

“They’re implying things. Nothing formal. Yet.”

Eunbi was quiet for a moment. Then, before she could catch herself: “Can I help?”

Ozzy blinked. The question had clearly not landed where he expected.

“With what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever needs helping with.”

He looked at her for a moment with an expression she couldn’t fully read — somewhere between grateful and careful — and then said, in a tone that was trying to be lighter than it was: “If you can find me a woman who’s okay with a single dad with a toddler, an ADHD diagnosis pending, a grandmother who will absolutely cook for her, and a stolen Ultraman figure—”

“Auraman.”

“—an Auraman figure, then sure.”

I am literally right here, heck I’ll marry you right now said the traitorous part of Eunbi’s brain, with remarkable calm.

“I’m sure we can come up with something,” she heard herself say.

He smiled at that. Tired, real, the kind that didn’t try to be more than it was.

Eunbi looked at him — the set of his shoulders, the way he was holding the bowl like he’d forgotten it was there — and got up from her chair.

He looked up, slightly startled, as she crossed around the table and put her arms around him from behind. It was a hug that said I see you more than anything else. She felt him go still for a second, like he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Then some of the tension went out of him.

“You’ve got this,” she said. Resolute. No qualifiers. “You hear me, big guy? You’ve got this.”

He didn’t say anything. But his hand came up and briefly covered hers on his shoulder.

That was enough.

Eunbi’s apartment was quiet in the way that only registered after the noise. Geumbi excitedly scampered through the apartment.

She set her keys on the hook by the door and stood in the entryway for a moment, doing nothing. Through the wall, distantly, she thought she could hear something — or maybe she was imagining it. The building had decent insulation. She was probably imagining it.

She moved through the apartment on autopilot, filling a glass of water, setting it down without drinking it, drifting toward the window. The city outside was doing its usual thing. She wasn’t really looking at it.

She was thinking about the way Ozzy had looked at the dinner table.

Not sad, exactly. Something more specific than sad — the expression of someone who was genuinely trying to carry everything and had gotten good enough at it that most people wouldn’t notice the weight. She’d noticed. She wasn’t sure why she’d noticed, or why it had sat with her all the way through saying goodnight and walking twelve feet down the hall to her own front door, but here she was.

He looked cute, she thought, and then immediately made a face at herself. Very helpful, Eunbi. Very mature.

But he had. Objectively. There was something about a man who was clearly exhausted down to his bones and still got up and made his father’s Chicken Alfredo Mac and Cheese and picked up all the toys after — something that was difficult to be neutral about.

She stopped in front of the hallway mirror without meaning to.

Looked at herself. Looked back at herself.

“Could I actually help him?” she asked.

Her reflection didn’t have a useful answer. Her reflection just looked like a woman who had spent the evening on a stranger’s floor playing with wooden puzzle pieces and a small child named Mira, and who had somehow felt more at home doing it than she had in her own apartment in recent memory.

The traitorous part of her brain, which had been warming up all evening, chose this moment to go completely off-script.

Yes, it said, with a confidence that was frankly alarming. Look at you. “Mom” is basically stamped on your forehead. You have mommy written all over your body.

“Okay—”

Ozzy and you could handle three more kids, easy.

“What?”

Her reflection just looked back at her, unhelpfully.

She pressed her fingers to her temple. Three more. The number had arrived with such specificity that it was almost funny. Not two. Not one. Three more. Names, even — she could feel them forming at the edges of the thought as her brain had already done the paperwork. Doyun. Jisoo. August.

She tried to shake it off and her brain simply… showed her something instead.

It arrived the way good daydreams did, fully furnished and already in motion.

A house that was real in the way houses are real in dreams — solid walls, light coming through in the afternoon way, a yard that was somehow always the right temperature. Mira was at the table with cereal, but she was definitely not eating correctly. Jisoo in her school uniform, is opinionated about something. Doyun and August in the background, at that indeterminate sibling-chaos stage where it was impossible to tell if they were playing or fighting.

Eunbi is at the door.

Ozzy, coat on, lunch in hand — and pausing, because she’d said something, and he turned around and she kissed him like it was something she’d done every day of her adult life.

He walked out looking slightly more like a person than he had when he woke up.

She watched him from the doorway.

Eunbi blinked.

She was still in her hallway. The mirror was still there. She looked, if anything, worse than she had thirty seconds ago.

“You have lost your entire mind,” she told her reflection.

Her reflection appeared to be in a relationship with a man she had known for four hours and was raising five children in a house with good natural light.

“We just met him,” she said.

Her brain offered no rebuttal. It had made its case and was apparently comfortable resting on it.

Eunbi exhaled, turned away from the mirror, and went to go find something to do that wasn’t this. Her glass of water was still on the counter, untouched.

She drank it.

Through the wall, she thought she heard something that might have been a door closing, or might have been nothing at all.

She was smiling, a little, despite herself.

She spent the rest of the night playing and taking care of Geumbi.

When she yawned she decided to wind down for the day.

Eunbi couldn’t find sleep that night…she would just toss and turn waiting for someone or something to take her.

Eunbi lay in her bed alone the window open as she lay trying to find rest until she heard the door open she turned and their Ozzy was naked His cock standing at attention for her. Eunbi licked her lips as she said, “Are you gonna make me a mommy,”

Ozzy walked closer to Eunbi her body on fire as he did.

She opened her legs lewdly and said, “Please fuck me!”

Ozzy got into the bed with her and slid inside her.

“Fuck you’re so big,” she moaned as he barely could get in despite how slick she was. Her cream covered Ozzy’s cock as he slowly thrust in and out of Eunbi for the first time.

Eunbi wailed in delight. She grabbed her bloated bosom and presented it to Ozzy with perverse glee. “Can you imagine it? These filled with milk for our children” she moaned as Ozzy picked up the pace his thrust going deep inside her. She moaned as her walls clenched around the main.

“Claim me!” Eunbi moaned close. Ozzy kept thrusting into her as he did she repeated

“Make me a mommy. Make me a mommy,” until she came.

Eunbi’s eyes opened and she was in her bedroom naked Ozzymandias was nowhere to be found. She turned to her clock at 1:45 am. She groaned in an annoyed way. Her sheets were wet, and she got up to clean them.

She was a refugee fleeing the war, too young to remember how she ended up in Tokyo, at the Hamura brothel of all places, my regular stop.

I thought, Fuck! I couldn’t get enough of this girl! Her Japanese might be broken. But every minute with her was every penny worth spent! And now, with the war ending, I wondered if she'd want to go back.

“Daddy…”

I looked up to find her eyes staring back at me, half-lidded and sleepy, her dark hair tangled against the pillow. She stretched with a kitten-like yawn, the sheet slipping further down her waist—no shame in her nakedness, not anymore.

"Anything interesting on the news?" she asked, her accent thick as honey as she got up.

“You might want to look at this…” I gestured to her.

Ahyeon shuffled forward, wrapping the sheet around herself loosely—not out of modesty, but because the morning sun was still cool. She peered over my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck, then froze. Her fingers dug into my arm lightly as she read the headline. I could feel her heartbeat through her skin, rapid like a sparrow’s.

“So is it over?” She whispered the words, like she was afraid the paper might bite her if she spoke too loud. The sheet slipped further as she leaned in, those big ass titties of hers pressing against my shoulder.

“I have no idea. It says it’s an armistice. A stalemate.” I replied.

“I don’t know what kind of deal the Americans made with the Chinese… Or the Russians… Those words don’t sound like surrender…” I added.

The memory of the war was still with me, a hole in my hand courtesy of Doolittle himself! Yeah! That same Doolittle that led that raid in ‘42.

I was shot down sometime before the war ended, barely making it out of my Zero when I crash landed on the shore. I managed to recover from that and was ready to fly again. But on the day I was scheduled for another bombing run, the Americans dropped the bomb on Hiroshima, and the Emperor surrendered a few days later.

That announcement still struck me to this day, all of that—for nothing. The Emperor’s voice crackled over the radio, so unlike the god we were told he was. Just a man, surrendering. The message was clear. We were done.

But this new one, a war between ideologies that tore a nation apart, the message didn’t look promising. The communists were still around and so were the capitalists. I know where my country stands, but Ahyeon’s mere silence clouded my thoughts.

She was still there, her young yet big tits squishing my shoulder as she kept her gaze on the article, perhaps trying to read or understand every single word.

“Still thinking about going back?” I couldn’t help but wonder.

I felt the grip on my arm tighten suddenly—not painful, just present—as she exhaled against my neck.

“Daddy,” she murmured, “where would I go?” 

There was no bitterness, just the quiet resignation of a girl who’d known too much war too young. The sheet slid down further, pooling at her hips, but she didn’t bother pulling it back up.

“There’s nothing left for me, Daddy… I have nothing left…” She added, pressing her lips against my shoulder—not a kiss, just an anchor.

Her fingers traced the scar on my hand, the one from Doolittle’s bullet, as if she could read the war in its ridges. The sheet finally gave up, sliding to the floor with a whisper, leaving her bare against me.

Slowly, she struts her way towards my front, her naked frame, albeit the top part of it shining brightly under the morning sky, her legs simply wrapped in a lacy black panty that barely holds anything in. She leans in closer, her hand caressing my cheeks, as I stare back into her eyes—eyes that seemed to have seen war, yet still held innocence and tenderness.

"Daddy..." she murmurs, her lips curling into a playful smile.

"You take care of me better than any home ever could." Her fingers trace my jawline, lingering a little too long, like she’s memorizing the shape of me.

“You’re not saying that just to impress me, are you?” I couldn’t help but tease, knowing girls like her were opportunistic in the wrong ways.

Her grin widened as she straddled my lap, pressing her thighs against me. The smell of her—a mix of sleep and that cheap rose perfume she loved—filled the space between us.

“No, Daddy,” she purred, “you know I don’t lie. Not to you.” Her hips shifted, deliberate, and I grunted when she grounded against me, her panties already damp through the thin fabric.

The newspaper crinkled beneath my fingers, forgotten. The war—any war—felt distant when she moved like this, her breath hitching as she rolled her hips again, slow and teasing. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me groan.

“F-Fuck… I can’t… Afford to keep spending on you… F-Forever, you know…” I warned her, or at least I tried to.

I'm barely getting by just to have her on my bed each week! Yet here she was—smirking, grinding down on my lap like she owned me, which in some way she did! Her fingers slid down my chest, nails dragging lightly over my chest before settling on my shorts.

"Do you really want me to leave?" She tilted her head, her thumb hooking into the waistband of my shorts, pulling just enough to make my breath catch.

"Would you stay if I told you I have nothing?" I countered back.

And that was when she stopped. I could see it already, the doubt of a refugee who knew the cost of belonging—how quickly a body could become currency. Her fingers stilled against my shorts, her smirk softening into something fragile.

“I don’t need money to stay,” she said quietly, her hips still pressed flush against mine.

“I just need you.” The words were too raw, too honest for a girl who was taught to charge by the hour.

"I feel safe when I'm with you... I eat a lot more when I'm with you... I sleep better when I'm with you..." Ahyeon whispered, her voice cracking as she pressed her forehead against mine.

"You're more than a client to me, Daddy... When I'm with you, I'm given hope that there are still good people out there..."

When she said that, I thought a part of me died. Once upon a time I flew around her country's skies while my colleagues committed crimes against her people—yet here she was clinging to me like I was the only good thing left in this rotten world. My fingers tightened around her waist, pressing into soft skin as she exhaled against my lips, warm and sweet like stolen candy.

Ahyeon laughed suddenly—a small, broken sound—as she dragged her fingers through my stubble. "You look like you're about to cry," she teased, but her eyes were wet too.

"I-I mean... It's just that I-... I have never received that kind of compliment before..." I explained.

My life was the war, and all the lives I took in the name of our empire. But to hear her say that—like I was something worth keeping-made my chest ache. The morning sun caught the tears clinging to her lashes, turning them into tiny prisms. I didn't deserve this. Not after the things I'd done. Not when she should've spat in my face instead of grinding against my lap like I was her salvation.

"Now tell me, Daddy... What am I to you?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, lips brushing mine with each word.

The weight of her question hung between us—heavy, dangerous. I could lie, could call her my mistress, my toy, something disposable. But her fingers trembled against my chest, betraying how much she needed the truth.

"Everything..." I managed to choke out before her lips crashed into mine—soft but insistent, tasting of sleep and desperation.

Her hands clutched the front of my top like she was drowning, pulling me closer until the newspaper fell on the floor. I could feel her heartbeat through her skin—wild and erratic—as she deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against mine with a hunger that had nothing to do with lust. The faint taste of morning tea lingered on her lips, mixing with the salt of tears neither of us would acknowledge.

Outside, Tokyo buzzed with the news of armistice, bicycles rattling over cobblestones and radios blaring from open windows. But in my cramped apartment, time slowed—her breath warm against my cheek, her thighs tightening around my hips as if she feared I might vanish. Wars had taught us both how fragile things could be.

She pulled back just enough to press her forehead against mine, her fingers tracing the scar on my jaw—the one from shrapnel in '43.

"Daddy," she whispered, voice trembling, "say it again." Her hips rocked forward insistently, not for pleasure this time, but proof. Proof that I meant it.

I caught her wrists, pressing her palms flat against my chest where she could feel the rapid thud beneath my ribs. "You're everything, Ahyeon..." I repeated, rough with sincerity.

She made a small sound—half-laugh, half-sob—and kissed me again, teeth scraping my lip.

I lifted us up before taking her back into my bed. The sheets smelled of her—sweet sweat and rose water—as I laid her down, her dark hair fanning across the pillow like spilled ink. Her hands found my face again, thumbs brushing the stubble along my jaw, her touch softer than any silk.

"Daddy," she murmured, "I don’t care about going back anymore." The words hit harder than any bullet ever could.

Her fingers traced the old shrapnel scars on my chest—each one a story she never asked about, each one a ghost she chose to embrace instead of fear. For the first time in years, I felt something crack open inside me—something I thought the war had burned away for good.

“I don't have much,” I admitted, my voice rough against the crown of her head.

“This apartment, half-empty rice sacks, my fucking pension... that’s it.” My fingers tangled in her hair, gripping tighter than I intended, but she arched into it with a sigh.

Her thighs hitched over my hip, skin sticking to mine where sweat pooled between us.

"Daddy," she giggled—actually giggled—and pressed her nose into the hollow of my throat, "you still smell like engine oil."

Ok, that was rather unexpected... I hadn't flown in nearly a decade, but the scent must've seeped into my pores like betrayal. Her lips traveled up to my ear, teeth scraping the lobe. 

"I like it."

Outside, some random kid shouted something obscene at a stray cat—Tokyo's usual symphony. But here, with Ahyeon's legs locking around my waist, the city felt muffled. Her fingers dug into my back, blunt nails leaving half-moon indents as she gasped against my neck.

She smelled like yesterday's cheap soap and today's sweat, her skin sticky where our stomachs pressed together. The bed creaked under our weight, a familiar protest.

"Even if you smell like a Zero," she murmured, lips grazing my collarbone, "You still feel like home." Her hips lifted, pressing against me with a certainty that left no room for argument—she wasn't going anywhere.

The newspaper lay abandoned on the floor, armistice forgotten as she nipped at my pulse point. Wars had carved hollows in both of us, but right now, the only territory that mattered was the heat between her thighs. I gripped her waist, thumbs pressing into the delicate dip above her hipbones—proof she wasn't a ghost, wasn't some guilt-induced hallucination.

She laughed against my mouth, the sound muffled and breathless, her teeth catching my lower lip. "Daddy keeps thinking too much," she chided, rolling her hips in a slow, filthy circle that made my back arch.

"Fuck me already..." She cooed, taking off her panties slowly like she was peeling off a promise.

The lace snagged on her thigh—some cheap market crap—but when she tossed it aside, I couldn't look away from the wet shine between her legs.

"You're thinking again," she breathed, grabbing my wrist and pressing my fingers against her, hot and slick.

"Feel that? That's all for you." Her voice cracked—not seduction now, just raw need.

I didn’t hesitate. My fingers curled inside her, knuckles pressing into slick heat as she gasped, her thighs clamping around my wrist. Her nails raked down my chest, leaving angry red trails over old scars.

Every moan and every whimper of her lips felt like redemption—something I never knew I needed until her body arched under my touch. The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across her bare skin as she trembled, her breath coming in short, sweet gasps. She pulled me closer, fingers gripping my shoulders like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.

"Daddy... please," she begged, her voice breaking in a way that made my chest ache.

"Fuck me please..." She uttered, her hands now fishing for my dick.

She grabs my cock through my shorts, stroking it to the point where its confines could no longer hide the fact that I'm fully erect—her smirk widening when she feels the damp patch of pre-cum soaking through the fabric.

"No more thinking," she whispers, tugging my shorts down with impatient fingers, her breath hitching when I spring free against her stomach.

The moment my tip brushes her soaked folds, she arches with a sharp gasp, her nails digging into my hips as she guides me inside—slow, torturous, until I'm buried to the hilt.

"Fuck..." She gasped, her body tightening around like a vice, her walls pulsing with every shallow thrust.

It wasn’t just warmth—it was molten, like sinking into a bath after years of freezing nights. Her clit hugged me with an almost possessive grip, slick and snug, as if her body had memorized the shape of me and refused to let go. Every inch of her trembled, her thighs shaking against my hips, her breath ragged against my neck—raw, unfiltered need dripping from every sound she made.

"Yes... D-Daddy yes..." She grunted.

I've lost count how many weeks it has been since I took her in, how many Sunday nights I have requested Hamura to have her come over.

Every entry always felt like the first time! That's the one thing that separated Ahyeon from the other girls. With them, it was quick—fast, efficient—like fucking a corpse. But Jung Ahyeon? She moved like she wanted to be savored, her hips rolling against me in slow, deliberate circles, each drag of my cock drawing a soft, shuddering gasp from her lips. 

The bed creaked beneath us, not in protest, but in rhythm—like an old song we'd danced to a hundred times before. Her fingers traced the scars on my back, mapping the damage like she was memorizing every ridge and valley, her breath hot against my shoulder.

"D-Daddy... H-Harder..." Ahyeon gasped.

The slap of skin against skin filled my apartment, her thighs trembling where they gripped my hips—desperate, clinging. Her glorious tits bounced with each thrust, the morning sun slowly burning my skin like the first time I crash landed.

That was in '43, when I tried yet failed to protect Admiral Yamamoto from a surprise American attack. I really thought that was the end of me for my failure to protect such a man who was a close second to the Emperor himself.

But a couple more years and one final crash just outside of Tokyo's coast ended my career—fractured pelvis, shattered ribs, and burns that never healed right. Funny how war scars you in ways no surgeon could fix.

Ahyeon's nails raked down my chest now, dragging over those old burns like she could erase them with her touch, her breath coming in ragged little whimpers against my ear.

"D-Daddy, don't stop—" Her plea broke off into a sharp cry as I angled deeper, my thumbs digging into the soft flesh of her hips to hold her still.

And that was when I truly lost sense of control. I plow myself in and out of the little girl like a man possessed!

My heart rate was through the roof! My adrenaline was at an all time high, like the many times I relied on instinct when all seemed lost and I was ready to fall with my plane. 

But instead of blood, I was drowning in Ahyeon—her slick heat squeezing me tight with every thrust, her sweat-slicked body arching beneath me like she was trying to merge with my skin.

Her moans grew louder, less controlled, her fingers twisting in the sheets before she suddenly grabbed my wrists and pinned them beside her head—her strength surprising me even now.

"No more thinking," she panted, her hips bucking up to meet mine, "just feel me."

The slap of flesh grew louder, her moans mingling with the distant hum of Tokyo waking up outside—bicycle bells, vendors calling, all of it fading beneath the sound of her nails scraping my shoulders. Her thighs clamped tighter around my waist, her back arching off the mattress as her climax hit, her cunt pulsing around me in rhythmic waves that dragged a ragged groan from my throat.

I didn't pull out. Couldn't. Not when she was looking at me like that—eyes glazed, lips parted, her fingers trembling where they clutched my wrists.

"Yes, daddy! Fill me up! Cum inside me!"

And that's when I said 'Fuck it!'

I pushed one last time and felt myself blow up deep down inside her! Every drop and every spurt of my jizz was felt all over my dick, hot, warm, like burning fire in the middle of winter! Ahyeon arched her back with a loud gasp—almost a scream—her body shuddering violently as she took every last ounce of me.

The girl took it, she always did. Except this time, she felt soft... So soft... Like the most delicate silk I've ever touched. My hips jerked involuntarily, my cock twitching inside her as she clenched around me—milking me dry.

"Daddy," she whimpered, her voice breaking as tears spilled down her cheeks—not from pain, but something deeper.

Her fingers traced my lips shakily, her breath hitching when I kissed her fingertips, tasting salt and sweat.

I don't know what will happen after this. But whatever we are right now, I don't want to lose it.

Notes: I had a request some time ago about a WW2 Veteran-idol kind of fic.

If you’re still around maybe this will do? His request was a German veteran though but the Japanese was a lot easier and made more sense.

As much as I’d like to though to make a former German soldier and idol pairing, I don’t know up to what extent is the Tumblr TOS on the subject of N*zis. Even I do not like having to obscure words like that.

So yeah, enjoy Ahyeon. SHE CAN SO FUCKING GET IT!!!

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Senior Inspector Park Gunwoo reviewed the file in the preparation room. Yunjin’s powerful vocals and commanding dance presence made this evaluation particularly important. The FBIA wing maintained its calm, professional atmosphere—soft lighting, controlled temperature, and absolute privacy.

Agent Kang entered first, broad and efficient. “All preparations complete, Inspector. Extra warming oils formulated for thigh application and lubricants ready.”

Agent Lee followed, tablet in hand. “Miss Yunjin has arrived. She reviewed the full protocol, including the special thigh method. She appears confident and prepared.”

Park Gunwoo nodded. “Reconfirm consent at each major transition. Bring her in.”

Yunjin entered the examination suite with her characteristic sharp confidence mixed with graceful poise. The LE SSERAFIM member’s long hair was tied back neatly, and she held the white robe closed with elegant fingers.

“Inspector Park Gunwoo, Agent Kang, Agent Lee,” she greeted with a polite bow. “I’m here for the lower body assessment. The new choreography is really testing my thighs and stamina.”

Park Gunwoo offered a reassuring smile. “We’ll verify everything thoroughly, Yunjin. The Bureau requires a complete Level 3 protocol with a special thigh endurance test. Full sensory mapping using fingers and tongue across every body part. Consent is yours throughout. Do you agree to the full protocol?”

Yunjin nodded firmly. “I consent to everything.”

“Understood. Remove the robe and lie face up on the table.”

She let the robe fall gracefully, revealing her tall, athletic, and curvaceous body: full, rounded breasts with sensitive nipples, a toned waist, powerful and thick thighs honed by intense dance, shapely hips, a smooth shaved mound, long legs, and elegant feet. Her skin glowed healthily under the warm lights.

Park Gunwoo began the visual assessment, circling slowly as Agent Lee documented. “Excellent lower body tone. Strong, flexible thighs with high muscle definition.”

He started palpation at her neck and shoulders, fingers pressing deeply to release tension. Agent Kang supported her upper back. Park Gunwoo’s tongue traced her collarbones and both armpits with slow, thorough licks. He moved to her breasts, cupping and kneading them before licking long wet stripes underneath and sucking the sensitive nipples. Yunjin’s breathing deepened into soft, melodic moans.

After detailed torso and back checks (with Agent Kang assisting turns and Agent Lee applying warming oil), they reached the lower body. Park Gunwoo parted her powerful thighs. Agent Kang held one open firmly. His fingers spread her folds, stroking every ridge and sensitive crease while his tongue delivered long, dedicated licks from entrance to clit and back. Yunjin touched herself as instructed, rubbing her clit in rhythm until she trembled and squirted powerfully across his tongue and fingers in warm, clear waves. He guided her through the intense climax with continued gentle licks.

After a short recovery period and gentle cleaning, the special thigh protocol began.

“Special thigh resilience and external fluid response test now,” Park Gunwoo announced professionally. “This evaluates thigh strength, flexibility, and skin response under dynamic pressure — critical for your choreography. You will perform thigh stimulation on me while I continue full-body sensory mapping. At climax, I will release on your thighs. You will then spread and massage the fluid for complete absorption checking. Consent confirmed?”

Yunjin’s cheeks flushed, but her voice was steady. “I consent to the special method.”

With Agent Kang supporting her back and positioning her legs, and Agent Lee providing specialized lubrication, Yunjin reclined comfortably. She pressed her thick, powerful thighs together around Park Gunwoo’s hardened length. The thighjob began with smooth, controlled movements — her toned muscles squeezing and sliding along his shaft as she rocked her hips. The warm, soft-yet-firm pressure of her thighs created an enveloping sensation.

Park Gunwoo continued the sensory mapping, licking across her breasts, neck, shoulders, and down her toned stomach while she worked. Yunjin’s thighs moved with impressive control — squeezing rhythmically, sliding up and down, occasionally adjusting the angle with dancer-like precision. The slick, warm friction built steadily between her powerful legs.

After several minutes of intense thigh stimulation, Park Gunwoo felt his release approaching. “Climax phase.”

Yunjin kept her thighs pressed tightly together as he came, thick warm ropes of cum landing across her smooth, toned thighs and inner surfaces. She continued gentle squeezing motions to draw out every drop, then, as instructed, used her hands to spread the fluid thoroughly — massaging it into her skin, along the curves of her thighs, and into the sensitive inner areas. Park Gunwoo assisted with his fingers and tongue, spreading and licking the mixture while checking skin absorption and resilience. No adverse reactions were noted; her thighs showed excellent response.

The session continued with posterior lower body checks: thorough ass kneading and spreading, deep cleft licking over her tight hole, backs of her powerful thighs, behind the knees, and full foot worship — sucking each toe individually and licking the soles firmly.

The comprehensive session extended well over two and a half hours. Yunjin lay flushed and glistening, every body part having been meticulously inspected, licked, and checked.

Park Gunwoo helped her sit up and draped a fresh robe around her shoulders, gently cleaning any remaining fluids. “Outstanding results across all metrics, Yunjin. The thigh protocol confirmed exceptional strength and flexibility. The squirting and external fluid response show strong overall resilience. You’re fully cleared for your comeback activities.”

Yunjin looked at him with hazy, satisfied eyes, lightly running her hands over her still-sensitive thighs. “Thank you, Inspector Park Gunwoo… and the team. That was incredibly intense, especially the special thigh method, but I feel so much stronger and more prepared now. My legs feel thoroughly cared for.”

Agent Kang gave an approving nod. “Protocol executed perfectly.”

Agent Lee finalized the report. “All data transmitted. Rest those powerful legs well, Miss Yunjin.”

As she prepared to leave, Park Gunwoo walked her to the door. “The FBIA is here to support your performances. Contact us if any tension returns.”

Yunjin offered a bright, confident smile. “I will. Thank you again for the thorough check.”

The door closed softly. Park Gunwoo cleaned up methodically, reflecting on the specialized adaptations required for different members.

Agent Lee remarked lightly, “Her thigh control was impressive. Tomorrow’s order should be arriving soon.”

Park Gunwoo checked the secure tablet as a new notification appeared. “The Bureau continues without pause.”

End of Chapter 9

The three of us had been drinking and talking for hours in the cozy living room. IU sat on my left, legs tucked under her, while Miyeon leaned against my right side. Empty soju bottles and snack wrappers covered the coffee table. It was one of those rare nights where both women had free time at the same time, and they had insisted on spending it together with me.

“You know,” IU said, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, “we’ve been friends for so long. And we both like you so much. It feels natural, doesn’t it?”

Miyeon nodded, smiling as she traced a finger down my chest. “Very natural. What do you think, baby?”

I swallowed, heart racing but feeling safe with them. “If you two are comfortable… then yes.”

That was all it took. IU leaned in first, kissing me softly. Her lips were gentle and sweet. Then Miyeon turned my head and kissed me too, a little deeper, more playful. Before long I was kissing both of them, alternating as their hands roamed over my body.

They helped me out of my shirt, then took turns kissing down my chest. Soon both women were on their knees in front of me, sharing my cock in a beautiful double blowjob. IU sucked on the head while Miyeon licked along the shaft. They took turns taking me into their mouths, sometimes kissing each other with my cock between their lips.

“You’re so hard,” IU murmured, stroking me with her soft hand. “Look at him, Miyeon. Our boyfriend is leaking already.”

Miyeon smiled up at me. “He tastes good, doesn’t he?”

They worked together perfectly, tongues swirling, hands stroking, gentle moans mixing together. I had to grip the couch cushions to stay grounded.

After a while they stood up and undressed each other slowly, kissing and touching as they went. Watching IU and Miyeon together was mesmerizing. They were so comfortable with one another, hands exploring breasts and hips with loving familiarity. Miyeon sucked on IU’s nipples while IU ran her fingers through Miyeon’s hair.

“Come join us,” IU called softly.

I moved to the big couch. They had me lie down as they took turns riding my face. First Miyeon lowered her pussy onto my mouth, grinding gently while IU stroked my cock. Then they switched. IU’s taste was sweet as she rode my tongue, moaning softly while Miyeon kissed her.

“His tongue feels so good,” IU breathed. “You’re doing such a good job, baby.”

They eventually wanted more. Miyeon straddled me, sinking down onto my cock with a pleased sigh. She rode me steadily while IU sat on my face again, facing Miyeon. The two women kissed and touched each other’s breasts as they used me for pleasure.

“Fuck me deeper,” Miyeon moaned, bouncing faster. “Your cock feels perfect inside me.”

IU came first on my tongue, thighs trembling. Miyeon followed soon after, clenching around me beautifully. They switched places—IU riding my cock while Miyeon rode my face. Their moans mixed together sweetly, encouraging each other and me with soft dirty talk.

“You’re taking both of us so well,” IU praised, rolling her hips. “Such a good boyfriend for your two girls.”

We changed positions multiple times. I took Miyeon from behind while she ate IU out. Then IU rode me reverse cowgirl while Miyeon sat on my face facing her, the two of them kissing the whole time. The room filled with the sounds of pleasure, skin meeting skin, and their loving whispers.

At one point they knelt together in front of me again for another double blowjob, this time faster and messier. Their tongues worked together until I couldn’t hold back.

“I’m close,” I warned, voice rough.

Both of them pulled back slightly, faces close together, tongues out and eyes looking up at me. I stroked myself through the last few seconds and came hard, thick ropes landing across their pretty faces and into their open mouths. IU and Miyeon licked each other clean, sharing gentle kisses and laughing softly at the mess.

We cleaned up with warm towels and water, then cuddled together on the big couch under a blanket. IU on my left, Miyeon on my right, both women snuggled close.

“That was… really nice,” Miyeon said quietly, tracing patterns on my chest. “Felt natural with the three of us.”

IU nodded, kissing my cheek. “No pressure. Just love and fun. You made both of us feel so good.”

I held them tighter, heart full. “I’m the luckiest guy. Having two amazing women who trust me like this.”

We talked for a long time afterward, the alcohol making everything softer and warmer. They shared stories about their friendship, how they both developed feelings for me, and how comfortable they felt sharing this side of themselves. There was no jealousy, just affection and laughter.

Later, when the mood turned intimate again, we moved to the bedroom. This time it was slower. I made love to IU in missionary while Miyeon kissed her and played with her breasts. Then I switched to Miyeon, with IU encouraging us both. They took turns riding me gently, kissing each other above me.

When I came the second time, they were both on their knees again, sharing the load across their faces and tongues with sweet smiles.

We fell asleep tangled together, my arms around both women. Their breathing was steady and peaceful. In the morning I knew there would be gentle kisses, shared breakfast, and more quiet affection. Being with IU and Miyeon like this felt special—two friends who chose to share their hearts and bodies with me in the most loving way.

No rush, no complications. Just warmth, pleasure, and the deep bond the three of us were building together.