Asahi’s eyes fluttered open, squinting as harsh sunlight spilled across his face.
A low groan escaped his lips.
His entire body ached—like he had been asleep for far too long… or worse.
Where am I…?
The last thing he remembered was being in Jaehyuk’s unit, resting after cleaning. Then—someone arrived. A visitor.
And everything went black.
“Asahi-kun… can you hear me?”
A voice. Soft. Careful.
His brows furrowed.
Japanese.
“I know you’re confused right now, but I’m a friend. Jaehyuk knows me.”
Asahi tried to focus, blinking slowly as the throbbing in his head intensified.
“I’m sorry about the headache—it’s a side effect. Don’t worry, it’ll fade soon.”
And just like that… the pain pulsed harder, making him wince.
“I hacked into your system to wake you up. Seems like your kidnappers had no plans of doing that anytime soon,” the voice continued. “By the way, I’m Kotaro.”
Miles away, eyes were locked on a screen.
Every movement Asahi made—every blink, every shift—was visible.
Technology at its finest.
“We’re close to their hideout,” Kotaro typed quickly. “We need you to cooperate.”
Asahi gave a faint nod, still disoriented, his gaze scanning the room for anything—any possible escape.
And then—
he froze.
Not far from him, a man sat slumped on a chair, wrists bound tightly behind his back.
“—!”
A gasp caught in his throat.
“That’s our friend,” Kotaro added, glancing briefly at Yeongue beside him. “He was taken before you.”
Asahi’s chest tightened.
“We need both of you out before the police arrive,” Kotaro continued. “But… before that—this might hurt a little.”
Keita offered a small, apologetic smile before pressing a button.
The effect was immediate.
A violent surge shot through Asahi’s system—like his entire body was short-circuiting from the inside.
His vision blurred. His body trembled.
“I’m sorry, Asahi-san…” one of the Japanese members whispered under their breath.
But they had no choice.
They needed to erase his location from the studio’s system—now.
“Byunggon hyung is in a meeting with the CIX unit,” Seunghun explained, eyes glued to the monitors. “They’re a special police division. No one knows they’re working with us.”
They had rented a nearby house—close enough to monitor everything, far enough to stay hidden.
Calls were made. Systems were breached.
CCTV feeds flickered under their control.
“Ask him if there are cameras in the room,” Junhao said quickly.
