“FOUND HIM!” YangYang shouted, nearly making everyone jump.
“No need to yell, YangYang, I’m right here,” Taeyong said, pushing himself away from the van he’d been leaning against. He came to stand beside the younger one, his tone sharp but his eyes already searching the screen.
The blue light of the monitor reflected in his tired face, casting deep shadows beneath his eyes.
“So? Where is he?” Taeyong asked quickly.
“There—at the intersection between the park and that hotel near Han Forest,” YangYang replied, pointing to the blinking red dot on the map.
“That’s at least twenty-five minutes away!” Taeyong exclaimed.
YangYang nodded grimly.
“And in the complete opposite direction from home…” Jaemin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The tension in the air thickened.
“Okay, then we need to hurry. Even if Johnny drives full speed and ignores every traffic rule, it will still take at least fifteen minutes to get there. And by the time Chenle reports back and we get home again, we’ll have lost another good hour.”
He exhaled, frustration slipping through his usually calm tone.
“The longer we take, the more time Wonchan and his brother have to do—God knows what.” Taeyong sighed again. “Is Chenle still moving?” he asked sharply.
YangYang shook his head. “No. Not for a while now.”
A frown carved its way across Taeyong’s face. “Damn it… who knows how long he’s been out there. Get in the van—we move now.” The boys already piled into the van, waiting for Sungchan to be steady enough to move again.
Taeyong went over where Sungchan was still sitting with Doyoung on the pavement, trying to keep his breath steady.
“You feeling any better?” Taeyong asked, crouching beside Sungchan.
The boy nodded weakly.
“He’s still a bit shaky,” Doyoung said, keeping his voice calm. “Once we get home, some food and water should stabilize him.”
“Good. Then get ready—we found Chenle. Maybe we’ll have a lead, but we need to move fast. Every minute counts.”
Doyoung nodded, wrapping an arm around Sungchan's shoulders as he helped him to his feet. The boy's body was still trembling, exhaustion settling deep in his bones.
"Easy," Doyoung murmured. "You're okay. Just take it slow." Doyoung stayed close to him, making sure he kept breathing steadily.
Taeyong sat in the front seat, but his eyes kept flicking to the rearview mirror—back to Sungchan, pale and silent, staring at the floor.
“You did good, kid,” Doyoung said softly, handing him a bottle of water. “You just need rest.”
“I don’t deserve rest,” Sungchan murmured, barely audible. “She’s out there alone because of me.”
Taeyong heard it but didn’t turn. His grip around the seatbelt tightened. How many times had he thought the same thing himself?
Seventeen minutes later, they pulled up near the location where Chenle’s signal had stopped. Johnny eased the van to a halt a short distance away from a parked ambulance, its red lights flashing softly against the dark pavement.
“Hyung?” Haechan’s voice came from the back seat, confusion and worry tangled in it. He pressed a hand to the window, peering out.
Johnny glanced sideways at Taeyong, who had already frozen—his eyes locked on the sight before them: Chenle was sitting in the ambulance, pale, an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. Two medics hovered beside him, checking his vitals and murmuring to each other.
