The boy who had been secretly observing the twins closed the door as quietly as he could, his movements controlled and deliberate. His heartbeat was still elevated from what he had overheard, but he forced himself to steady it before returning to the training area.
A faint tension lingered in his shoulders—a tension the others would instantly notice if he wasn’t careful.
“Hyung? Where did you go?” the youngest asked, eyeing him with mild curiosity.
His tone was innocent, but his expression wasn’t; he had clearly been waiting for him.
“I went to grab my water bottle,” Jeno replied casually, forcing a light shrug as if the question meant nothing.
“And where is it?” the younger boy pressed, suspicion slipping into his voice.
Jeno blinked once, then twice—too slowly.
“Couldn’t find it,” he said flatly, hoping the dryness in his tone would discourage further questioning.
It didn’t.
“Hyung… you brought your bottle at the start,” another boy reminded him. “You set it down next to the sparring mats.”
Jeno froze for half a second before curving his lips into a forced, too-bright smile.
“Ah, right! Thanks, Renjun. I thought I dropped it somewhere,” Jeno said, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual. He immediately headed toward the training zone where some of the older members were already working through their drills.
He walked faster than necessary—almost eager to get away from their questioning eyes.
“Something’s off with him, right?” the youngest whispered as an older member approached.
He wasn’t imagining it. Everyone saw the shift.
“He’s acting weird, yeah… That wasn’t normal,” the older boy agreed, lowering his voice. “Do you know where he went?”
The younger shook his head quickly. “No idea.”
“We’ll figure it out later. For now, we should train before hyung gets mad,” the older one sighed, glancing toward the center of the room.
“I don’t think he’ll notice anything,” the younger countered quietly, nodding toward their leader. “He’s not even focused himself.”
Their leader was punching targets, but his movements were uneven—his mind clearly elsewhere.
“Exactly. Even worse,” the older boy said. “If he catches us slacking while he’s distracted, he’ll scold us twice as hard for not doing our best. He gets motivated when we push ourselves—so let’s move.”
He nudged the younger boy toward the computer training room.
The youngest followed without another word, casting one last look over his shoulder toward Jeno, who had already blended into the training chaos as if nothing had happened.
But something definitely had.
As they crossed the main hall, the atmosphere shifted around them—metallic clinks from weapon racks, grunts of effort, the sharp crack of fists hitting padded targets. Older members sparred intensely while others calibrated equipment or ran drills.
Yet even within the usual noise, something felt off.
Several members kept glancing toward the entrance of the mansion… as if expecting someone to return.
Or afraid someone wouldn’t.
