stars × cnblue kangminhyuk

18 : Shadows of Truth

Hyojin stood frozen in the entryway, suitcase still at her feet, the glow of her phone screen burning into her eyes.

[Would he be this happy if he knew who killed Sora?]

The words pulsed like a brand, her hand trembling so hard she nearly dropped the device. For a long moment she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The warmth of Kyoto vanished like mist, replaced by the heavy chill of dread curling in her stomach.

She slammed the door shut behind her and pressed her back against it, as though someone might already be outside watching.

"No... no, no, no..." she whispered, sinking against the wood.

Her chest heaved, panic threatening to spill over, but she forced herself to move. To act normal. If Minhyuk came home and saw her like this, what could she possibly say?

She dragged her luggage into her room, unpacking automatically, her hands folding clothes she didn't even see. Her thoughts circled like vultures. Who sent it? Who knows? And why now?

Her phone buzzed again.

This time it was Minhyuk.

[Meeting with a producer at the agency. Might be late. Don't wait up for me.]

Her breath hitched. Relief tangled with fear. At least it wasn't another unknown number. But the timing felt cruel, like fate itself was leaving her alone with her ghosts.

She dropped her phone on the dresser and hurried into the bath. Steam curled up around her as she sank into the water, her skin prickling from the heat. But even here, even stripped of everything, she couldn't escape. The words followed her like whispers.

Would he be this happy... if he knew?

Her lungs tightened.

By the time she stepped out, she wrapped herself in armor—a cream knit sweater, dark leggings, hair quickly blow-dried. Not glamorous, not fragile. Just normal. Just safe.

She brewed tea in the kitchen, clinging to the small routine: the clink of porcelain, the hiss of boiling water. The sound calmed her nerves, if only for a moment. She sat at the table with her cup between her palms, listening to the clock tick, the hum of the refrigerator, the faint noises of life outside their apartment.

For a moment, she could almost believe nothing had changed.

Until the bell rang.

Her cup rattled in the saucer. She froze. Every nerve in her body screamed don't answer. But her legs moved on their own, carrying her to the door.

When she opened it, her breath caught.

"Jungshin oppa?"

He stood there, tall and composed, but his eyes betrayed urgency.

"Can I come in?" His voice was steady, but there was something underneath—concern, maybe even alarm.

"Y-Yeah, of course." She stepped aside. He walked in, his presence filling the space, grounding it.

She tried to smile. "This is... unexpected. Did you just get back from Japan too?"

He shook his head. "No. I came here because of this." He held up his phone.

Her stomach dropped.

"I got a message." His gaze pinned her, sharp and unwavering. "Anonymous. It said Minhyuk is in danger."

The mug slipped slightly in her grip, hot tea spilling onto her fingers. She didn't even flinch.

"Danger...?" she whispered.

"Yes." He raked a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "And it doesn't sound like a prank. Whoever sent it knows something."

He studied her face carefully, as if searching for cracks in her composure.

"You look pale," he added softly. "Did... you get one too?"

Her heart lurched. Words clawed at her throat, desperate to spill out—Yes, I did. Yes, I know why. Yes, it's about me.

But she forced a shake of her head. "No. Just... just tired."

His frown deepened. He didn't believe her.

They sat at the dining table, the half-finished tea between them. Hyojin clasped her hands tightly in her lap, forcing herself not to tremble.

"Oppa..." she began, then faltered. What could she say? That the person Minhyuk trusted most might be harboring a lie big enough to destroy him? That her own hands were not clean?

"You know him better than anyone," Jungshin said quietly. "If something feels off, tell me. Please."

His tone was firm, protective—but also personal. His concern wasn't just for Minhyuk.

It was for her.

Her chest tightened. For a heartbeat, she almost confessed. Almost.

Jungshin finally leaned back, exhaling slowly. His shoulders dropped, his sharpness softening into something gentler.

"I've known Minhyuk a long time," he said. "He's steady, careful, cautious to a fault. But you—" his lips curved in a faint smile—"you changed him. The moment you walked into the agency, I saw it. He couldn't take his eyes off you."

Hyojin blinked, startled.

"And I understood why," Jungshin added, his voice quieter now. His gaze lingered on her face, just a fraction too long.

The silence stretched. She knew what he wasn't saying. The confession tucked between the lines.

Her heart twisted. Once, she'd adored him from afar, her first crush, her CNBlue bias, the unreachable star. Now he was here, sitting across from her, looking at her with something almost like longing.

"Why are you telling me this?" she whispered.

His expression sobered. "Because if something happens to you, Minhyuk would break. And if something happens to him..." He shook his head, a rare flash of emotion crossing his face. "No, I can't let that happen. Not to him. Not to you."

Her throat ached. The truth clawed against her chest, but she swallowed it down.

And just as she opened her mouth—

The front door clicked open.

"Hey," Minhyuk's voice filled the space, warm and familiar. He stepped in, dropping his bag by the door. His smile lit up the room, exhaustion tucked behind it.

But then he froze. His gaze flicked between them—Hyojin sitting rigid, Jungshin leaning back in his chair, the air between them heavy with unspoken words.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing," Hyojin said too quickly, standing so fast her chair scraped against the floor.

Minhyuk's brow furrowed. "You're both acting weird." His eyes narrowed slightly, lingering on her, then on Jungshin. "Did something happen?"

Hyojin opened her mouth, but no sound came.

Jungshin's expression smoothed into practiced calm, though his knuckles were pale against his knee. "Just catching up. That's all."

As Minhyuk walked past, his eyes drifted to the dining table—where Jungshin's phone lay face-down, screen still lit faintly at the edge.

Something about the sight made him pause, his jaw tightening for the briefest second.

But he said nothing. He simply moved into the kitchen, the sound of the refrigerator opening breaking the silence.

The weight didn't lift.

If anything, it grew heavier.