The Party That Killed || Hyunlix

45 🕸️

3rd person pov.
Chan sat in the corner of the room, trying to avoid his father’s furious glare. He felt his body trembling but did his best not to show fear. His father loomed over him, hands stuffed into his pockets as if trying to restrain his own anger.

"You really think you can just get away with this?" the man began, his voice as cold and sharp as steel clashing against steel. "You’ve stopped stealing. You’ve stopped training. You’ve become…" He paused, searching for the right word. "A coward!"

Chan glanced up for a moment, his cheeks burning as a lump formed in his throat.

"I never stole," he said quietly, almost in a whisper. "You just didn’t notice until you gave my brother away."

That was the spark that lit the fire. His father stepped closer, leaning down so far that Chan could feel his breath on his face.

"Liar!" his father growled. "Your brother ended up in a foster home because he was weak. Just like you are now. If you don’t straighten up, you’ll end up just like him!"

Chan clenched his fists. His heart pounded like a hammer, but he didn’t respond. The words echoed in his mind: Weak... just like you.

≈🎃≈

3rd person pov.
The room was cloaked in an uncomfortable silence, interrupted only by the faint hum of a tape being rewound. Seungmin sat in the corner, his eyes fixed on the screen, tension evident in his posture as though he expected something to leap out at any moment. The screen flickered briefly, as if the equipment was about to fail. Felix hit pause, rubbing his eyes.

"I don’t know if I want to keep watching this," he admitted quietly, his voice wavering as though it might drown in the oppressive atmosphere of uncertainty.

"We have to," Jeongin said, reading his thoughts. "With every recording, I feel like I’m getting closer to understanding what happened to him."

From the screen came the faint sound of Chan’s voice, speaking as though to himself, trying to make sense of something chaotic. “It all started with the symbol…” he said, and Felix glanced at Seungmin, who froze.

It was the same symbol he had seen in his dreams, in his thoughts. In that moment, something that had only haunted him in the shadows took on a dark, tangible reality.

Before anyone could speak, the screen went black, plunging the room into an uneasy silence. Moments later, Chan’s voice returned, quieter now, as though he were confessing something that should never be heard.

“It’s better if I put this in a letter…” His tone was strained, hesitant. “I feel like they’re everywhere. Listening. They know what we’re doing…”

The recording cut off abruptly. The screen remained dark, and a deep silence enveloped the room. Seungmin’s heart raced, his mind teeming with thoughts he couldn’t grasp.

"He knew," Felix whispered, staring at the screen as though expecting something else to appear. "We can’t ignore this."

"We have to find that letter," Jeongin said, his eyes never leaving the blank screen. "It’s the only thing that might explain what happened."

≈🎃≈

When the boys unfolded the next letter, their eyes immediately locked onto the words written there. This time, it wasn’t a recording but words Chan must have penned in desperation, confessing things he had never dared to reveal.

"Seungmin… I’m sorry. I don’t know how to begin this. I’m sorry I never told you, but you need to know. The symbol I mentioned—it’s tied to my family. To what happened to your brother. The cult my family was part of is responsible for what happened to him. They killed him. They did it, Seungmin. I know you might not believe me, but it’s the truth. They’ve done things I deeply regret. Everything they did—it’s all tied to things I’ve never shared with you."