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Kim Taehyung - considered to be the idol of idols in the k-pop industry, the epitome of perfection, the object of envy for many, and the role model for every idol in the Korean music scene. He was the face of k-pop, the soulf...
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Taehyung
“How do you know?” My jaw drops open momentarily, and my voice sounds airy.
“Taehyung-ssi,” Yi-Seo drags her chair closer to the table and moves to the edge of her seat. “Why did you choose to inject yourself? Why didn’t you let the medical team do it?” Her tone drips with regret, which should actually be what I’m feeling, but she is exhibiting that, and I have no idea why my words are playing dead at the moment.
I also have no clue how she found this out.
My eyes wander all over the place, but Yi-Seo exhales a long breath, and our eyes finally find each other. “I asked you something,” she says softly, leaning forward a little from her seat.
Setting my chopsticks down, I take a few sips of water and clear my throat before I begin speaking.
“It was just a regular injection in the vein, and it wasn’t something that I was doing for the first time. I had done it many times myself in the past, and I also had just a few seconds to go back up on stage. There was a delay in the medical team’s response, and I couldn’t really wait for them to come in and inject me because they wouldn’t do that without checking my vitals, and that would have taken up a lot more time,” I state my reasons plainly, and Yi-Seo is listening with her every last ounce of attention.
“But it was such a big risk to take,” she remarks in a remorseful tone.
“Miss Kwon, as I said, it wasn’t new to me, and the injection that I was given for the pain was a morphine shot, and it will leave traces in the blood for a few hours to a day,” I pause to gauge her reaction, and as expected, she looks confused.
“So then why did it become an issue when your blood had narcotics in it? Morphine is a narcotic drug, and it is widely used as a pain management medicine, and if it will leave traces in your blood, then the company and everyone else must have known about it too, right?” Yi-Seo raises a questioning brow at me.
Nodding, I chuckle softly, running a hand through my hair. “I wouldn’t have passed out on stage if the tested level in my system was within the permissible amount to rule out intoxication by morphine, which is twenty nanograms per milliliter of blood.”
“And how much was present in your system?” She questions me, tilting her head to one side.
“A little over one hundred and fifty nanograms per milliliter.”
“WHAT?” Her voice shrieks, her eyebrows fly skyward, and her elbow slips from the tabletop; she quite literally stumbles even while seated. “How did that happen? I’m pretty sure the prescription medicine that you were supposed to take had only a low concentration of morphine.” Yi-Seo states confidently.
