Jaeyel sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the floor as his group members bustled around the dorm. Their voices were lighthearted, teasing as they tried to convince him to go out for dinner.

“Come on, Jaeyel, you barely ate today.”

“Yeah, you need some real food, not just instant ramen.”

Jaeyel forced a small smile, shaking his head. “I’m not hungry. I just want to rest. You guys go ahead.”

They groaned in unison, but ultimately relented. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Jaeyel exhaled heavily, his body sinking into the mattress. The revelation from earlier still gripped him like a vice.

Had Yang… really known him before he became an idol?

The thought sent another wave of unease through him. He had been trying to avoid Yang all day, desperate to keep his distance.

The idea of being alone with him right now was unbearable. That’s why he left with the members, ensuring he wouldn’t be left behind with him again. And Yang didn’t even know Jaeyel had changed his schedule.

He wasn’t aware Jaeyel was already back at the dorm.

Jaeyel ran a hand down his face. His stalker was still out there, watching, taunting.

The messages hadn’t stopped. The gifts kept arriving. He still felt eyes on him in the darkest corners.

But now, something else unsettled him even more—Yang. The revelation that he might have known him before his debut was a different kind of fear, one that gnawed at his mind more than the unseen stalker ever had.

A lump formed in his throat. In moments like this, he thought of his grandparents. They were his warmth, his safe haven. But they were gone now. He swallowed hard, his chest tightening as a sudden wave of emotion crashed over him.

He needed comfort, something real.

Jaeyel sat up and reached for an old wooden box tucked away in his closet. His grandparents’ box. He brought it with him when he moved into the dorm, a piece of them he couldn’t bear to part with. Lifting the lid, he let out a shaky breath as he sifted through its contents—photographs, letters, tiny trinkets filled with memories.

He pulled out an old picture of himself as a child, sitting between his grandparents, all three of them grinning widely. His fingers brushed over the worn edges, a small smile ghosting his lips.

Another picture. Another memory. And then—

His heart stopped.

In one of the photos, his grandmother’s wrist was adorned with a delicate bracelet. His breath hitched as recognition struck him like a lightning bolt.

That bracelet…

It was the same one he saw at Yang’s place.

Jaeyel’s body went rigid. His pulse pounded against his skull. No… that couldn’t be right. He now remembered that bracelet. He had taken it with him before his debut. It was one of the few keepsakes he kept close, but—

It went missing one day.

He never thought much of it. He had other mementos, after all. But now… it was at Yang’s place?

A violent shudder ran through him. His hands trembled, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The room suddenly felt too small, too suffocating. The walls seemed to close in as fragmented memories twisted together, forming a terrifying picture.

Why was his grandmother’s bracelet in Yang’s possession?

Jaeyel’s entire body shook. His blood turned ice-cold. A dreadful question clawed its way to the surface, one he had been trying to ignore for so long.

Was Yang… the stalker?

No. No, it couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense. But then, who was the person at the park that night? Why did Yang always know where he was whenever something happened? Why… why did everything always lead back to him?

Jaeyel shot up from the bed, his breath ragged. He had to confront Yang. He needed answers. He couldn’t let this uncertainty eat him alive.

He stormed out of his room, barely registering his members calling after him. “Jaeyel! Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His mind was too preoccupied, his body moving on autopilot as he rushed toward the door. He fumbled for his phone, his fingers shaking as he tried to call Yang. The dial tone barely registered in his ears. He just needed to hear Yang’s voice, to demand the truth—

Then, everything went black.

A strong arm wrapped around his torso from behind. A large, gloved hand clamped over his mouth and nose. Panic exploded in his chest as he thrashed violently, his phone slipping from his grip and clattering onto the pavement. He struggled, kicking, clawing, but the grip was too strong. His vision blurred. His lungs burned, desperate for air. The last thing he heard before his world faded was the rapid pounding of his own heart.

Then—darkness.