POISONED YOUTH: TWISTED

CHAPTER 41

The ride to the old NCT headquarters was unusually quiet compared to the chaos that normally filled Dream's van. Haechan sat between Mark and Yoonoh, staring silently out the window while the other two remained just as quiet, each of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts. The others had been told to stay behind and guard the house, while Jaemin was sent to the apartment to look after Yeoreum after what had happened earlier.

When they finally arrived, they stepped out of the car and followed the familiar narrow route toward the main gate. None of them had to ask where to go. They had walked these paths countless times before, back when their lives had been simpler and the only things they worried about were training, missions, and which one of them would get yelled at next.

As they approached, the wired electrical gates suddenly unlocked and opened on their own.

Mark raised a brow. "It's like they were expecting us."

He slipped his hands into his pockets and followed the others inside, a sly grin appearing on his face as he looked around.

"Things really don't change."

They entered through the front door and were immediately greeted by a familiar sight: Taeyong sitting at the bottom of the staircase with a bottle of beer in one hand.

Mark's eyes immediately landed on it.

"And not all people changed either. Gimme some, hyung!"

Taeyong let out an airy laugh before standing and pulling Mark into a bro hug. "You didn't change either, Mark."

"I did." Mark proudly pulled away. "I became incredibly nice."

Yoonoh snorted.

The sound caught Taeyong's attention, and his expression immediately softened.

"Good to see you well, Jaehyun."

Yoonoh gave him a small smile and nodded. "I've been better."

"Good."

Taeyong's gaze then shifted toward the quietest member of the group.

Haechan hadn't said a single word since they arrived.

He stood several steps away, eyes wandering across the familiar interior as memories slowly returned to him. The headquarters looked almost exactly the way he remembered it, and for a moment, it felt as though the years between then and now had disappeared.

The walls were still painted neatly in white with black lining, the same clean and modern design that Ten had always insisted on maintaining whenever he found a free day to repaint. The living room carpet was still there too—the same carpet where Haechan and Mark used to sprawl after exhausting training sessions, where they would collapse after gang fights and occasionally end up rolling into each other because neither had the energy to move. It was also where they spent countless afternoons playing board games, arguing over rules, accusing each other of cheating, and somehow turning something as simple as a game into a full-blown competition.

The kitchen remained just as familiar, perhaps even more chaotic than he remembered. It had once been the one place everyone believed would remain peaceful, only for the boys to turn it into another battlefield whenever they had a free day. Cooking and baking competitions were common, with everyone insisting they could make the best dish while somehow leaving the entire kitchen looking like a disaster zone afterward.