Chapter Text
The concert had gone better than expected.
As the final echoes of the encore faded into the vast darkness beyond the stage and the roar of thousands of fans gradually softened into distant cheers.The adrenaline that had sustained them through hours of performances was finally beginning to sweep away, leaving behind the pleasant heaviness that always followed a successful stage.
The venue lights had already begun transitioning into shutdown mode. Brilliant spotlights that had illuminated every movement only minutes ago were being switched off section by section, plunging portions of the massive stage into deep shadows while staff hurried through post-concert procedures.
The audience was still present, but the house lights were rising.The performance was over. Everything was supposed to be over.
From where Kim Iwol stood beneath the stage lights, breathing slightly harder than he would ever admit aloud, everything looked perfect.
Perhaps that was why he didn't notice the danger immediately. Or perhaps it was because for the first time in what felt like in peace, the System had been silent.
No warning messages. No red notifications. No sudden penalties. No ominous countdowns lurking at the edge of his vision. The silence should have comforted him.
And now, as he walked alongside the members toward the backstage exit while exchanging tired conversation, the System remained equally silent.
For the first time in a long while, Iwol found himself thinking that perhaps tonight would truly end without incident. Maybe they would return to the dorm, everyone would shower, would order late-night food and complain about their aching muscles. Maybe they will fall deeply asleep tonight.
Suddenly, all at once, a blurred scene from the performance flashed through Kim Iwol’s mind.
When Kim Iwol glanced toward Choi Jeho during one of the final formations, a faint smile tugged at his lips despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on every muscle in his body. Choi Jeho looked so happy, genuinely happy. The kind of happiness that softened the corners of his eyes and made him seem years younger.
Watching him, animated and carefree even as the concert neared its end, allowed some of the tension lingering in Kim Iwol's chest to loosen. Maybe tonight really would end peacefully. Maybe for once everyone would return to the dorm exhausted but safe.
The thought never had the chance to finish. Something flickered at the edge of his vision.
Not from the audience. Not from the stage. Not from the countless spotlights hanging overhead.
A strange, translucent glow.
For a fraction of a second, it wrapped itself around Choi Jeho's silhouette before vanishing completely.
That sight made Kim Iwol freeze. His heartbeat stumbled. The smile disappeared from his face. Just that brief, inexplicable light. And then it was gone.
No. Not now. Not after everything.
A familiar glow. One he knew all too well. The System had never shown him that glow without reason.
His gaze sharpened instinctively, locking onto Choi Jeho.
The glow had lasted only a moment before disappearing entirely, subtle enough that anyone else might have dismissed it as a trick of the eyes. Yet Kim Iwol knew better. He had seen it too many times. Impending danger where the future about to go wrong.
His pulse quickened. He waited.
For a warning notification. For a mission window. For anything.
But the System remained silent.
Nothing appeared. No message followed. No explanation came. Only silence.
By now, sections of the stage had begun to darken as the lighting crews gradually powered down equipment after the performance.
Choi Jeho trailed several meters behind the others, exactly as expected. As one of the last members to leave the stage, he lingered at the rear of the group while the rest disappeared ahead into the maze of backstage corridors.
Near the edge of the unlit passageway, Kim Iwol waited in silence. The dim lighting made it difficult for anyone to distinguish faces from a distance, leaving the area cloaked in a veil of obscurity.
Hidden within that darkness, Kim Iwol kept his gaze fixed on Choi Jeho. He couldn't look away.
Because the System had shown him that light. And it had never once done so without a reason.
Something was wrong. He didn't know what.
But something was wrong.
From where he stood in the shadows of the backstage area, Kim Iwol watched Choi Jeho continue walking forward, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. This man's attention remained elsewhere, still caught in the lingering excitement of the performance as he followed the path ahead without a second glance.
And directly in his way…
A maintenance hatch had been left open.
Forgotten amid the rush of post-concert teardown, the dark opening gaped in the stage floor, nearly invisible beneath the sparse lighting that covered the backstage area.
Choi Jeho never saw it.
He kept walking, unaware that only a few more steps stood between him and the drop concealed by the darkness.
The moment Kim Iwol saw the dark opening in the floor and realized exactly where Choi Jeho was heading, sheer panic surged through him so violently that it felt as though his heart had stopped beating altogether.
"Jeho!"
The name ripped itself from his throat. He was already moving before the sound had fully left his lips. The distance between them wasn't far. Only a few meters at most but in that moment it felt impossibly vast.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[Unexpected Hazard Detected]
[Analysis Complete]
[Probability of Choi Jeho Injury: 94.7%]
A translucent red window exploded into existence before his vision.
[WARNING]
[Current User Condition: Severe Fatigue]
[Accumulated Physical Strain: Elevated]
[Recent Recovery Status: Incomplete]
[Recommended Action: STOP]
[Recommended Action: WAIT FOR STAFF INTERVENTION]
Of course, Kim Iwol ignored it.
The system immediately responded.
[WARNING]
[Physical Exertion Beyond Recommended Limits]
[Risk of Multiple Injury Increased]
[Risk of Collapse Increased]
[User Fatigue Level Exceeding Safe Parameters]
Choi Jeho continued forward without hesitation, his attention elsewhere, and completely unaware of the danger waiting directly in front of him.
Kim Iwol was right. He could guess exactly what was about to happen.
The pale glow the System had shown him moments ago flashed through his mind. Everything suddenly made sense.
"CHOI JEHO!"
Every instinct in his body screamed at him to move faster, to reach him before it was too late. He stretched his arm forward as far as he could, fingers straining desperately toward the retreating figure just beyond his reach.
For a horrifying second, he thought he wouldn't make it. That he would arrive only in time to watch Choi Jeho disappear.
Then his fingertips brushed fabric. His hand closed around the sleeve of Choi Jeho's jacket with desperate force.
Got him.
The relief that flooded through him lasted less than a heartbeat.
Because Choi Jeho's forward momentum had already become impossible to stop.
The sudden tug caused Choi Jeho to stumble violently in surprise. The movement threw both of them off balance instantly.
Kim Iwol tightened his grip. Refused to let go.
And then, in a way that felt strangely distant despite how immediate everything was, he understood with absolute clarity that neither of them were going to make it out of this intact, if at all.
Time slowed.
A calmness settled over him at that realization, the same internal certainty that had driven him to sacrifice himself before without hesitation because there had always been, beneath everything else, only one answer that mattered.
Protect Choi Jeho.
Even now. Especially now.
Kim Iwol moved before thought could catch up, twisting instinctively despite the impossible angle, forcing his body beneath Choi Jeho’s falling form with a kind of desperate precision that left no room for hesitation, and wrapping his arms around him not with enough strength to stop the fall or change what was coming, but only enough to shield, to absorb, to take whatever could be taken if it meant Choi Jeho might be spared even a fraction of the inevitable impact.
And then came the impact.
A brutal explosion of pain tore through Kim Iwol’s body.
The impact was not just painful but absolute, a brutal collision that detonated through Kim Iwol’s body the moment his back struck the concrete hidden beneath the stage, the force running through his spine that seemed to split him apart from the inside as agony erupted across his ribs and chest with such intensity that his lungs emptied instantly and a broken, involuntary gasp escaped him before he could even comprehend what had happened.
And then, Choi Jeho landed on top of him.
The additional weight crushed down immediately, driving him harder into the unforgiving surface, and the world flashed white.
Before he could recover even a fraction of himself, the back of his head struck metal, a hidden beam buried in the darkness beneath the stage, and the impact rang through his skull with a sickening clarity that sent a violent, endless ringing flooding his ears while the world tilted sideways and blurred at the edges until he could no longer trust whether he was conscious or slipping away.
Through the haze, through the agony threatening to drag him unconscious, Kim Iwol forced his eyes open. The first thing he searched for wasn't himself.
It was Choi Jeho.
And when he finally saw Choi Jeho beginning to stir in the darkness above him, relief washed through him so intensely it almost hurt more than the injuries themselves.
A trembling breath escaped his lips.
Choi Jeho was moving. He was saved from the impact.
Good.
If Choi Jeho was moving, then Jeho was alive, and that alone, absurdly and painfully, was enough to make everything else feel survivable in comparison.
“Ah…”
And then, despite everything, he spoke again with his voice hoarse.
“Jeho-yah…”
A pause, trembling and fragile, stretched between them as his vision swam and darkened at the edges, and still, against all of it, he forced the words out with little strength remaining.
“…are you okay?”