Most of the boys had already gathered in the dining room, filling the long table with quiet chatter and the soft clinking of cutlery. Some were already seated, others leaned against their chairs impatiently.
“Where is hyung again?” one of the younger ones asked, twisting around in his seat to glance toward the hallway. His stomach growled audibly. “I’m hungry,” he added with a dramatic sigh, resting his chin on the table as if he might starve any second now.
“Chenle, calm down,” another voice chimed in, half-amused, half-exasperated. “Maybe he’s still upstairs talking to noona.”
“But he always talks forever,” someone else complained, tapping his chopsticks against his bowl. “He should hurry. I’m hungry too.” The impatience spread through the room like a quiet ripple, though none of them truly meant it with disrespect.
“Why don’t we just start without him?” one suggested, shrugging. “It’s not the first time he’s late.”
Immediately, another voice snapped back, sharper this time. “No. We’ll wait for hyung. He said he’d come. Have some respect.”
“Oh, you mean respect for you?” someone scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Sorry, not interested in that today.”
“You—! I should—” The sentence broke off as tempers flared, chairs scraping lightly against the floor as bodies leaned forward, ready to argue further.
“Doyoung, calm down,” his brother cut in firmly, his voice carrying just enough authority to immediately shut him up. Doyoung stiffened, lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned back, swallowing whatever sharp retort he had been about to throw out.
“And Haechan,” his brother continued, turning his gaze to the younger one now, “it’s really not nice. Sometimes your comments are funny, yes—but sometimes they’re just rude. Get yourself a grip.”
The room fell noticeably quieter after that, the tension dissolving into an awkward silence.
“Yes, hyung… sorry, hyung,” Haechan muttered, suddenly much smaller in his chair, his usual confidence fading under the reprimand.
GongMyung simply nodded, arms crossed, clearly satisfied that the point had landed.
Still, after a few seconds, another voice hesitantly spoke up, softer this time. “Hyung… should we really not start already? He always takes a long time when he talks to noona, and the food’s just going to get cold…”
A brief silence followed, heavy with indecision. GongMyung glanced at the staircase once more before letting out a slow sigh.
“Fine… let’s start,” he finally said, taking his seat at the head of the table.
Haechan opened his mouth, clearly ready to add something, but the moment his eyes met Jaehyun’s expression—calm, tired, yet unmistakably warning—he immediately shut up and grabbed his chopsticks instead, choosing survival over sarcasm.
Soul’s fingers curled slightly into the fabric of her sleeves.
Her stomach was empty—she could feel it—but the thought of eating made her chest tighten instead of growl. Every sound, every voice around the table felt louder than it should, her thoughts constantly drifting back to the basement, to blood on the floor, to the way Taeyong’s eyes had looked when he lost control.
If I eat now, they’ll watch me. They’ll worry. I don’t want them to worry again.
“Soul, don’t you want to eat something?” one of the older ones asked gently, noticing how untouched her place at the table still was.
“Uhmm… no… not now. Maybe later?” she replied quietly, avoiding eye contact.
“Soul, you shoul—”
“I’m really not hungry right now, oppa,” she interrupted softly but firmly, forcing a small smile. “I’ll eat later. I promise. I just… I really want to lie down and rest a bit more.” Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.
Her voice was calm, but the way she hugged her arms around herself betrayed how drained she truly felt.
“Okay,” he said after a moment, clearly not fully convinced but unwilling to push her. “Then go. We’ll be quiet. I’ll bring you something later, okay?”
She smiled gratefully, the expression a little too tired to be fully genuine, and slowly got up before curling herself up on the couch in the living area.
Her brothers watched her go, their gazes lingering far longer than necessary, a shared worry settling heavily in their chests.
