The next day arrived, bringing with it the beginning of a new week. Everyone in the mansion was already awake and moving. The Dreamies were ready to leave for school; they had managed to convince their leader that attending classes would be the least suspicious option. Their sudden absence after only one week back would attract unwanted attention.
The leader had secretly agreed long before they asked. Maintaining routines—school, mundane obligations, simple habits—mattered to him. It meant they still had something normal in their lives, despite belonging to a world filled with violence and death. Every scrap of normalcy his youngest members could experience was precious to him, especially because he himself had never enjoyed anything close to a normal childhood.
A soft knock echoed through the doorway of his office.
“Come in…” he muttered, voice still thick with sleep.
“Ouu? You don’t sound good. Taeyong, are you okay?” someone asked while stepping inside.
He looked up sluggishly, rubbing the sides of his head and brushing his hair back.
“Yeah… just tired. I didn’t sleep much.”
“Maybe you should sleep a little longer?”
“Mhm… I’ll try later.” He stretched his neck. “Have the Dreamies already left?”
“Yeah. They just left. Yuta is driving them.”
“Hell, that poor car…” Taeyong sighed.
“That’s exactly what Shotaro said!” the other boy replied, making Taeyong let out a tired chuckle.
“Anyway, why did you come?”
“Oh, I wanted to ask what you want for breakfast. Doyoung is preparing something for her too, and then he—what?”
Taeyong’s expression had darkened instantly.
“Nothing…”
“What’s wrong, Taeyong?” the boy asked as he sat down in the chair across from him.
“I just… thought about my conversation with Jeno and Doyoung yesterday, that’s all.”
“It was about her, wasn’t it?”
“They seriously told me to let her go. And Doyoung even told Sungchan to tell their friends the truth about what happened.”
“Taeyong, calm down. I’m not deaf,” the boy sighed. “But why would Doyoung say that?”
“Dude, is my name Doyoung? How should I know?” Taeyong snapped. “Maybe so Jaehyun won’t be mad at him too—like he hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you…”
“Sure he doesn’t,” Taeyong scoffed bitterly.
“The worst part is… I can’t even blame him. I would probably be mad too.”
“Then why don’t you let her go?” Johnny asked, his tone soft but steady, as if he’d been rehearsing this line in his head for hours.
“Because she’s a danger to you!” Taeyong suddenly snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of exhaustion and fear. “To all of you! She could pull us down with a single word! About us. About what happened to her. The police would tear us apart—our enemies would do it twice as fast. Hendery is already injured!”
Johnny exhaled slowly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Hell, Taeyong… you’re spiraling. You’re thinking ten steps ahead into every worst-case scenario.”
