The elevator was narrow.
Brushed steel walls. Scratched. Dented in places. Old.
Ha Joon stood to Chi-Long's left. Eun Byol stood behind them both, pressed into the corner.
Chi-Long faced the doors. Hands at her sides. Red tracksuit vivid against the dull metal.
The doors closed.
A mechanical groan.
Then descent.
---
The elevator shuddered.
Not violently. Just enough to feel. A tremor through the floor. Through Ha Joon's legs.
The cables creaked overhead. Metal grinding against metal. Old machinery struggling.
The sound filled the space.
Low. Persistent.
Ha Joon stared at the panel of buttons. Numbers descending. B1. B2. B3.
They kept going.
The lights flickered.
Once. Twice.
Dimmed.
The fluorescent glow turned sickly yellow-gray and made the steel walls look wet and his reflection stared back at him distorted, stretched, his face thinner than he remembered, eyes hollow like someone had scooped out everything behind them and left only the shape.
His jaw tightened.
His tongue felt dry.
Stuck to the roof of his mouth.
---
Behind him, Eun Byol's breathing was shallow. Fast.
He didn't turn.
The elevator groaned louder. The descent slowed. The cables whined.
---
*Sky blue. Clouds white and shifting.*
*The kite—red plastic—climbing.*
*Then gone.*
*Father's hand on his shoulder.*
*Warm.*
---
Ha Joon blinked.
His heart beat slower than it should.
Not from fear.
From something quieter.
Something that had stopped fighting.
---
Behind him, Eun Byol's fingers twitched against her sides.
She pressed them flat.
---
*Afternoon light through a window.*
*A woman in bed.*
*Smiling. Weak.*
*Hands folded on white sheets.*
---
*Rain.*
*Black umbrellas.*
*Father's hand on her shoulder.*
*Cold.*
---
*Studio lights. Mirrors. Everywhere.*
*Her manager—tall, smooth voice, thin glasses glinting—watching.*
*Always watching.*
*"Again."*
*"Smile."*
*"Perfect."*
---
*Cameras. Applause.*
*Empty dressing room.*
*Alone.*
---
Eun Byol's nails dug into her palms.
The elevator rattled.
A sharp metallic clang from above.
The lights flickered again.
Stayed dim longer this time.
---
Ha Joon's stomach felt hollow.
Not from hunger.
From the absence of something he couldn't name.
*Am I ready for this?*
The question felt old.
Like something asked by someone else.
Someone he used to be.
*Purpose.*
Ash's voice.
Faint. Childlike. Certain.
*"I see greatness in you."*
His father had been great.
A hero.
He died saving people.
They buried a finger.
Was that greatness?
Was that what Ash saw?
Ha Joon's hands hung at his sides.
He looked down at them.
Pale. Thin. The knuckles stood out sharply.
He didn't remember them looking like that.
---
The elevator jolted.
Eun Byol gasped softly.
Chi-Long didn't move.
The descent continued.
B4. B5.
The air felt heavier now, pressing against his chest like water rising slowly, and his ears popped and he swallowed but his throat stayed dry and the lights dimmed again and this time they stayed that way.
The elevator walls looked darker.
Shadows deeper.
Chi-Long's red tracksuit looked black in the low light.
Ha Joon realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd chosen anything for himself.
Not his clothes.
Not his food.
Not his direction.
He'd stopped choosing.
Started following.
The thought didn't frighten him.
It should have.
But it didn't.
---
Behind him, Eun Byol's breathing hitched.
---
*Her father's office.*
*Contracts spread across the desk.*
*Manager's voice smooth and endless like oil spreading.*
*"This is what stars are made of."*
---
*Practice room.*
*Hours bleeding into days bleeding into years.*
*Feet bleeding.*
*Voice cracking.*
*Keep going.*
*Keep smiling.*
---
*Father—short, fat, sweating—counting money.*
*Manager—tall, skeletal fingers adjusting her hair, her dress, her face.*
*"Perfect."*
---
*This is different.*
*Chi-Long is different.*
*No contracts.*
*No cameras.*
*Just control.*
*Direct.*
*Total.*
*Honest.*
---
The elevator slowed.
The cables groaned.
Metal screeched.
The lights flickered one last time then stabilized into dim yellow sickness.
Ha Joon stared at the panel.
B6.
The elevator stopped.
Silence.
No movement.
Just the hum of something distant.
Mechanical.
Alive.
Chi-Long stood perfectly still.
Eun Byol's breathing was shallow.
Ha Joon's heart beat steadily.
Slow.
Empty.
He felt relief.
The thought surprised him.
But it was true.
Relief that the descent had ended.
Relief that he no longer had to decide.
Relief that someone else was in control.
*Into the storm.*
The doors opened.
---
The cafeteria waited beyond.
Gray tables. Steel benches. Empty.
No one.
A ghost town.
The lights were dim. Scattered. Half of them flickered weakly or stayed dark.
The air smelled sharp.
Soap. Bleach. Sterile.
Chi-Long stepped out first.
Ha Joon followed.
Eun Byol followed.
Their footsteps echoed.
Hollow.
Wrong.
Ha Joon's eyes swept the room.
Rows of tables stretching into shadow.
Benches bolted to the floor.
Everything gray.
Everything waiting.
Chi-Long walked toward the serving line, her red tracksuit the only color in the room, the only thing alive, and Ha Joon and Eun Byol followed three paces behind in perfect formation like they'd been doing this for years and maybe they had and maybe this was all they'd ever been.
The cafeteria doors closed behind them.
The silence tightened.
Ha Joon's feet moved before the thought finished forming.
He didn't choose to follow.
He just did.