[I just thought it was something I should do as a public figure. Maybe because I went through a lot from a young age...]
It was a coincidence.
That day, I was sick of cold convenience-store gimbap, so for once, I went out of my way to enter a gimbap shop near the subway station. Maybe even this much was a luxury—on the television playing like background music in the shop, Woo Hyun, a former teammate, was giving an interview.
[Singer Choi Woo Hyun, who donated one hundred million won to a pediatric cancer ward, said...]
'...The bastard who wouldn't even scoff when I asked to borrow hospital money....'
Not long after that incident, the group began moving toward disbandment.
The agency president, who had kept us tied down for ten years, was furious. After meeting investors who were raging, he came back like a madman, eyes bloodshot, and assaulted me.
One hit landed wrong, and my eardrum was damaged. Like an idiot, I went to Woo Hyun—who had the best family background among the members—to borrow money for hospital bills. What came back was nothing but resentment and abuse.
"I went through hell and thought I was finally seeing some light, and you ruined everything. And you've got the nerve to come here?"
"Do you really... think that's what I did?"
"Facts don't matter. The public only believes what they see."
"I was a victim too...! Hey, Woo Hyun, I really don't have time for this right now. I'm sorry to say this, but can you lend me some money...."
"Shut up and get out. I don't have any money to lend you. Fuck."
"...S-sorry... Woo Hyun, please... I'm desperate."
"Don't spout bullshit. Do you know who made us get branded as a trash group nationwide...? Seriously, do you even have a conscience? I relied on someone like you as a hyung, even for a while... I'm the crazy one. Get out now, before I kill you."
In the end, I missed the right time for treatment, and my hearing in my left ear was severely damaged.
Music was everything to me.
When my parents divorced and each started new families, I was left alone. Aside from a little living money sent occasionally, there was no human warmth in my life.
Music gave me members and fans like family…
Now I had a body that couldn't make music anymore, and I had to bear the sharp resentment of the people I loved.
After that, I just lived because I was alive. A life where I had to hide thoroughly to be forgotten.
How did it come to this?
That was why I didn't want to go outside.
Thanks to steady support from his family, Woo Hyun managed to establish himself somewhat as an actor.
The other members also rode on Woo Hyun's media play about being pitifully disbanded because of one member, making a decent living through variety shows, modeling, or internet broadcasts.
In the end, once I disappeared, everyone was fine. They all built their own positions—to the point that even if I didn't want to, I'd inevitably run into them.
They grew strong, using me as fertilizer.
"Your gimbap is ready for takeout—."
"Yes, thank you."
I fled the gimbap shop. I should've just bought it at the convenience store.
As I hurried along, the moment I turned from the main road into an alley, a chilling feeling crept up. Heavy footsteps followed behind me.
When I sped up, they sped up. When I slowed down, they slowed down the same.
I wondered if I was imagining it, but before long, I instinctively knew—those footsteps were following me.
After the team disbanded, the few fans I had left all treated me like a traitor. Fans turning into antis happened in an instant. People who knew me better than my own family knew exactly where I'd be hurt the most.
That was why stones thrown by only a handful of them hurt more than stones thrown by countless strangers.
Unable to endure their harassment, I moved several times, deleted my phone number and SNS accounts. That still wasn't enough—I even requested police protection.
Most eventually grew up and stopped such vicious acts, or lost interest in me after I faded from public attention.
But one guy kept chasing me to the end. These footsteps were definitely his. He'd been quiet for a while—how did he find me again?
"Fuck...!"
I threw away the plastic bag in my hand and started running wildly. The man who'd been standing at a distance seemed not to expect me to run and hurried after me.
"Joo Dansol!"
As if he no longer cared to hide it, he shouted my name while chasing me. The moment I turned a corner to escape—
Screeech—
Crash!
I was hit by a delivery truck speeding out of the alley. I'd assumed no cars would be running through such a narrow alley.
A huge crash rang out as I collided. My light body floated up into the air like a bird.
'What is this...?'
Everything around me moved in slow motion. As I slowly turned my head, I saw the anti-fan who'd been chasing me.
I'd always run away because their existence terrified me. The moment I was hit, I realized—maybe today would be my last day.
For once, I wanted to look straight at his face. And ask him why he hated me so much.
I always lived with the words "I want to die" on my lips. Lacking the courage to kill myself, I wished every morning that I wouldn't wake up, that someone would kill me. I never thought it would come true like this.
None of the things I desperately wished for in life ever came true, but the wish to die was granted so easily. It felt so empty that, ironically, I laughed.
Thud.
The man's face was utterly ordinary. No horns, no fangs, no blood-red eyes.
Too ordinary. To capture that ordinary, seemingly kind face, Dansol didn't close his eyes.
Maybe from the impact, hot blood kept streaming from my head.
The man dressed entirely in black looked pained. To anyone else, it might've seemed like he was the one being tormented.
Why….
Because there's no one left to bully now?
He must've always wished I'd die.
Maybe seeing it with his own eyes feels different.
Ah... but I don't want to die.
Why do I have to die?
When I said I wanted to die, what I really meant was that I didn't want to live like this.
I really wanted to live my life well.
I could no longer endure the heaviness of my eyelids. As I closed my eyes, slipping into sleep, moments of my life passed by like film reels.
Four years old, when Mom and Dad shouted at each other. Ten years old, living like a burden, constantly reading adults' moods. Thirteen years old, when I passed my first audition and moved into the dorm.
I think I was a little happy back then—I didn't have to live on others' scraps anymore.
Countless trainees passing through the dorm, the day the debut lineup was finalized, the moment I was first cast in a daily drama, fumbling through variety shows...
Right. Damn it. If only that incident hadn't happened.
If only that program didn't exist, I wouldn't be dying like this. I would've promoted quietly, and even if I faded away, I wouldn't have been branded a national enemy.
This all happened because of that shitty broadcast.
'RO Match Survival in Island.'
A crazy program that locked disgusting genetic supremacists on an island and made them pair up.
If I hadn't been devil-edited on that show, my life wouldn't have twisted like this.
Without realizing it, I tightly grabbed one of the scenes flashing by. If I was going to die like this, I should've at least grabbed the PD by the collar once like this.
Wait, am I really dying?
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