The Eclipse idol group had always been five—five faces the world adored, five talents that shone brighter together than apart: Taeyong, their steadfast leader; Kai, the sharp-tongued rapper with a voice that could cut through any silence; Seoyoen, the main dancer whose movements were poetry in motion; Jisoo, the visual whose mere presence could stop hearts; and Minjae, the main singer, whose voice carried the kind of soul that could make the stars weep.
But Three years ago, everything changed. An accident—some whispered it was fate, others whispered it was deliberate—tore through their world like lightning through glass. Minjae had been hiding a storm inside him, a life of scars both visible and invisible, marks from a past no one could ever imagine. He carried them silently, buried beneath his songs, behind his smile—but there was one person who knew, the one who had been with him in the final moments.
The city stretched beneath them like a glittering, indifferent ocean, its morning haze cutting through the streets with the harsh light of reality. Kai's chest heaved, each breath a jagged rhythm as he sprinted across the rooftop, desperate to catch up. Minjae was already there, running straight toward the edge as if the wind itself were calling him home, tears streaking down his face and a trembling in his limbs that no words could reach.
"Minjae, stop!" Kai's voice tore through the quiet hum of the city, sharp, desperate, almost ragged. But Minjae didn't. He didn't stop. He didn't even look back.
"Don't stop me, Kai! Don't make this harder than it already is!" Minjae shouted, his voice breaking under the weight of something no one could see, no one could touch—a storm of pain he had buried for years behind hollow smiles and effortless melodies.
Kai's hands shot forward instinctively, fingers trembling, reaching for the friend, the bandmate, the soul he could not lose—not like this. "Minjae, please… think this through. You can't… you can't do this. If you—if you fall, the band, everything we built—it'll crumble. Don't let it end like this."
Minjae let out a hollow, humorless laugh that cut through Kai's heart, laughter not meant to amuse, but to wound. "It's always about the band with you, isn't it? Always about keeping the image intact, keeping the machine running, even if we're broken inside!"
Kai's jaw clenched so tightly it ached, and in that instant, the air around him seemed to darken, the city noise fading into a low, distant hum as his aura shifted, subtle at first, then undeniable. He muttered something under his breath, low, venomous, enough for Minjae to catch, the words a knife twisted in silence.
And then, in an instant that felt stretched into eternity, Minjae's feet left the rooftop. Time fractured—slow-motion in Kai's mind. Minjae's body disappeared into the unforgiving drop below.
Kai froze at the edge, every nerve screaming, his vision narrowed, his breathing caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. He staggered to the edge, peering down at the lifeless form of the friend he had tried to save, his heart slamming against his ribcage like a war drum. But before he could process further, a hand—firm, commanding—grabbed him and yanked him back.
"Kai! We have to go! Now!" It was Taeyong, the leader, the anchor. Panic and duty blending in his voice. "Reporters are already swarming the streets. If they find you here… if they see anything… it'll destroy us all. The car's at the back. Let's move."
It was enough to snap Kai back to reality. His knees weak, chest still pounding, he nodded, swallowing the scream in his throat, and they fled the rooftop together, the morning sunlight unable to warm the frost in his soul.
The news hit like a bomb later that day, exploding across every screen and social feed: Minjae had died. Official statements attributed it to depression, a tragic suicide. Fans mourned, but whispers—and in some corners, accusations—spread like wildfire. A few claimed to have seen Kai at the building, claiming he had done the unthinkable to seize Minjae's place, a cruel narrative fueled by envy, speculation, and grief. Lawsuits followed, public outrage, relentless scrutiny.
Kai denied it all. And yet… the secret, the truth, the shadow of that morning, rested only with him—and the few who knew the truth: Taeyong, Seoyoen, Jisoo, and the band's manager.
"If the public ever finds out you were on that roof, if they realize you were the last person with him… it would ruin everything. The band, our careers, our lives.You were home that day. You and Taeyong were together. You knew nothing until the news broke. We carry this alone. No one else can know."
And even as the hate-fueled rumors swirled, even as fans debated and cried and pointed fingers, Kai kept walking, the memory of that morning etched into him like fire under his skin, a burden he would carry forever.
The news exploded across every channel and feed: Minjae had been struggling with depression, and his death was ruled a suicide. The rumors that Kai had pushed him faded like smoke, leaving only whispers that he had been there to stop him, to save him. Everyone believed the story at face value—they had no reason to doubt it.
But the truth… the truth was far darker, heavier, and no one knew it but Kai. Only he knew what had really happened on that rooftop, what had truly led to Minjae's final moments. Had it been Kai's hand that nudged fate along? Or had it been something he said, a word or a glance that unraveled Minjae's fragile mind, leaving him teetering on the edge while Kai watched, calm, almost impossibly still, as his friend spiraled into the abyss?
The question lingered in the silence that followed: Was Kai merely a witness, powerless against the storm? Or had he been the storm itself, silent and cold, letting the inevitable unfold without a shred of intervention?