"Why do you guys look like you've been running all morning?" Jordan asked, eyes flicking between Eli and Ahn Jae's slightly disheveled appearances.
"That's because we have been running all morning," Eli replied before promptly pinching Jordan's cheeks.
"Ow—ow—ow!" Jordan protested, pouting like a wronged child.
"Quit the googly eyes," Eli said firmly, though his voice softened immediately. "It's not gonna work this time."
Then Ahn Jae turned to August, pinching his ear—just enough to sting, not enough to hurt.
"Ah—hyung, I'm sorry!" August winced instantly. "I was wrong, please forgive me!"
Ahn Jae released him with a sigh.
"This goes for both of you," he said, pointing at August and Jordan like a weary parent who had officially hit their limit. "If you're going to disappear, at least let someone know where you're disappearing to."
"I'm all for freedom, don't get me wrong," Eli added, crossing his arms. "But letting us know where you were would've really helped us not panic the second you vanished."
"But you were sleeping so peacefully," Jordan defended softly. "I didn't wanna disturb you…"
"Yeah!" August nodded vigorously. "Hyung, you've been sleeping really well lately. I didn't wanna wake you up."
"Then at least leave a note," Ahn Jae said, a little firmer now. "Anything. Just something so we know where to find you."
Both August and Jordan jumped slightly at his tone.
Realizing he'd pushed a bit too far, Ahn Jae closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before letting out a slow breath.
"Look… I'm not trying to scold you," he said more gently. "Okay—maybe just a little. But I need you to understand it's because we were worried."
"Yeah," Eli nodded. "We're not trying to make you feel bad. We just want you to be a little more careful next time, alright?"
He reached out, ruffling both Jordan's and August's hair affectionately.
Both younger men nodded, genuinely understanding.
They didn't take it personally—because they knew. They knew the fear came from care, the frustration from love. So they owned their mistake, quietly learning from it.
"That's good," Ahn Jae said with a soft smile once he was sure they understood. "Now—come on. It's time for breakfast."
And just like that, knowing they were forgiven—
Bright smiles returned to both August's and Jordan's faces.
****
They both quickly grabbed their things before all four of them headed out.
Eli gently hooked an arm around Jordan's shoulders, pulling him close.
"Eli… I'm sweaty," Jordan muttered, turning toward him with mild concern.
Eli snorted. "Since when the fuck did that matter?" he said, tugging Jordan even closer just to prove his point.
Jordan flushed instantly, a soft smile creeping onto his lips as he gave up arguing.
They walked like that—practically glued together—while August and Ahn Jae trailed behind them.
"Are you guys together now?" August suddenly blurted out. "Like Bobby and Lili?"
Ahn Jae froze and immediately slapped a hand over August's mouth.
"Augie-ah," he whisper-shouted, "you can't just ask that—"
Too late.
Eli and Jordan stopped mid-step.
"Hm," Eli hummed, thinking for approximately point-two seconds. "Yeah. We are."
"…Wait," Jordan blinked. "We are?"
"Well," Eli said with a soft smile, "only if you're cool with it."
Jordan paused, actually thinking about it for a beat.
"…Yeah," he nodded. "We are."
Eli absolutely beamed.
Just like that—no dramatic confession, no speeches—they confirmed their relationship in the most casual way possible.
Ahn Jae's jaw dropped straight to the floor.
August's eyes sparkled like he'd just been given front-row seats to his favorite drama.
"Really?!" August grinned. "I mean, I kinda thought so. You guys look really good together."
"Aww, thanks, Augie!" Eli said warmly.
Jordan, meanwhile, was busy turning various shades of red.
"But," Eli added, lowering his voice playfully, "don't tell anyone yet, okay? I wanna make sure Jordan's ready before we let everyone know. So—our little secret."
He pressed a finger to his lips and winked.
"Okay!" August nodded enthusiastically.
"What is my life anymore…" Ahn Jae muttered, spiraling quietly as he tried to process Western relationship timelines.
And so, they headed to the buffet, where a few other Bread Music artists were already eating.
"Where have you guys been?" Yone asked as the four sat down with their food.
"These two," Eli gestured toward Jordan and August, chuckling, "decided to pull a disappearing act together."
"What?!" Yone immediately stiffened. "Explain. Now."
So August and Jordan explained—waking up in the middle of the night, not being able to sleep, deciding to dance it out.
August carefully left out why sleep hadn't come.
"Thankfully nothing major happened," Ahn Jae finished. "We found them at the studio."
Yone let out a long breath of relief.
"Just… be more careful next time, alright?" he said, choosing not to scold them further.
Both August and Jordan nodded obediently.
Now, you might be thinking: aren't August and Jordan both adults? Why is everyone treating them like kids?
Fair question.
The answer is simple—they're artists under Bread Music now. Public figures. Their lives don't belong solely to them anymore.
Things they could do freely before?
Now come with consequences.
Disappearing without telling anyone—even unintentionally—can spiral fast.
They were lucky this time. They stayed in the hotel. Nothing bad happened.
But if they'd gone out?
If something had happened?
That wouldn't just affect them—it would affect Bread Music as a whole.
Because the internet doesn't wait for facts.
People build narratives, assign villains, sharpen pitchforks. They don't care about context—only about having someone to blame, something to condemn, something to feed their twisted sense of justice.
That's the reality.
And unfortunately—
That's the internet.
****
Now—going back.
Breakfast had been… peaceful.
Too peaceful.
The kind of quiet that feels staged, like the universe holding its breath before dropping something catastrophic.
Remember at the beginning—when Foca sent four executives to Korea, but only three returned?
Salazar. Illiyana. Seth.
That's because one of them had been given a special assignment.
And now—
that someone had finally returned.
He wasn't supposed to come back this early. But after the disaster-ridden dinner, Foca had immediately recalled him.
The man boarded a private jet and flew back without rest—twelve straight hours awake, not lounging, not sleeping. He spent the entire flight organizing intel, cross-checking reports, and finalizing conclusions.
He arrived with a mission.
Three firm knocks echoed through Foca's office before the door opened.
"Aslan reporting!" the man announced confidently as he stepped inside. "I have returned, sir."
Golden-blonde hair framed his face like a lion's mane. Sharp eyes. Striking features. His presence alone commanded attention—regal, controlled, dangerous.
Like the king of the jungle had just entered the room.
"Aslan," Foca nodded approvingly. "Welcome back. Good work."
"Woah…" Hyouka muttered, openly staring. "He gives off a totally different vibe from the vampire squad."
"That's because Aslan's from a different department," Luca smirked. "While the vampire squad manages Bread Music artists—Aslan belongs to Foca's intelligence division."
Hyouka blinked. "Wait. Sir Foca has his own CIA?"
"You didn't hear this from me," Luca leaned closer, lowering his voice, "but his division is more competent—and better treated—than you-know-who."
"Sana ol rich…" Hyouka whispered in awe.
Aslan bowed briefly before striding forward and placing a black leather folder on Foca's desk.
"These are all findings from my assignment."
Foca opened the folder.
The moment he did—his expression darkened.
The room went silent. Heavy. Suffocating.
Then Foca abruptly let go of the folder, letting it drop onto the desk with a sharp thud that made Hyouka jump.
He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You alright, boo?" Tuesday asked cautiously.
"Not even close," Foca replied grimly.
"…It's actually fucking worse."
Everyone froze.
Hearing Foca swear meant one thing—
this was bad.
Hyouka swallowed and leaned forward, stealing a glance at the open page.
Her blood ran cold.
"Oh my God…" she gasped. "Is this real?!"
Now fully alarmed, Tuesday and Luca looked as well.
"HOLY FUCK." Luca blurted.
"Aw hell to the nah," Tuesday muttered, horrified.
The report detailed a sprawling sex-trafficking ring—run by Kang Seo-yul, alongside numerous prominent figures in Korea… and even beyond.
A nightclub.
A façade.
A hunting ground.
Drugs.
Blackmail.
Revenge porn.
Extortion.
Abuse stacked on abuse.
The name printed at the top of the report:
The Blazing Sun.
Seo-yul had created it at sixteen—funded by his father's money.
Did his father know?
Absolutely.
Why didn't he stop it?
Because it was profitable.
Powerful figures were regulars. They spent obscene amounts of money—but money wasn't the real prize.
Connections were.
Secrets.
Leverage.
Once inside that club, everyone became owned.
Whether they liked it or not.
A twisted web of corruption so vast and vile it screamed only one conclusion—
There was no redemption here.
No mercy.
Only punishment.
And no death would ever be cruel enough.