With an almost disbelieving excitement, the host spoke, as if he still couldn't believe he had finally secured this interview.
"Eight years… eight years of complete silence. No interviews. No explanations. Only his voice speaking through his music."
He paused, giving the audience a moment to absorb the weight behind the name.
"No appearances… no statements… just music."
The host smiled at the camera, but the smile lingered awkwardly on his lips, never reaching his uneasy eyes.
"And yet… he's here."
The studio lights were different tonight. Not bright as usual, but dim—cold—almost as if they were trying not to disturb a secret buried for years. The audience filled every seat, yet no one spoke. The silence was so heavy that even the sound of breathing felt like a cry for help.
Even the cameras moved slowly… carefully… as though any sudden motion might shatter something invisible and fragile.
"His first appearance in eight years…" the host's voice dropped, his earlier enthusiasm fading. "The star who made millions cry without ever speaking a word beyond his songs… please welcome Park Minsoo."
He entered.
One step… then another.
No dramatic music. No visual effects. Just the sound of his shoes striking the marble floor.
Tok… tok… tok.
Each step echoed with an unnatural clarity, like a countdown to something inevitable. His clothes were black—simple—unassuming. Yet his presence absorbed every ounce of light in the room.
When he slightly raised his head
Breaths halted.
Those were not the eyes of a star awaiting applause. They were the eyes of someone who had seen things that should never be seen. Someone staring into an abyss no one else could perceive. His skin was pale, as though the light refused to touch it, and his black hair framed his neck like a mourning veil.
He sat down slowly.
For the first time in eight years, he looked directly into the camera.
"Why now?" the host asked, his voice trembling.
The silence that followed was not ordinary.
One second… two… four…
Each passing moment felt like an eternity. The host began rubbing his hands nervously.
Then Minsoo spoke.
"Because the silence… has started to become louder than my voice."
His tone was low, unsettlingly calm—like the whisper of wind before a storm.
"Your songs are different," the host tried to regain control. "They're not just rap. There's real pain in them. Where does it come from?"
Minsoo didn't look at him.
Instead, he stared at his slightly trembling hands… as if they still carried traces of warm blood.
"From something…" he paused, exhaling heavily. "Or someone."
The host hesitated, then forced a faint smile. "Do you mean… a girl in your life?"
Silence fell again.
Minsoo lifted his gaze—but not toward the host. He looked at a dark corner of the studio ceiling. In that moment, his pupils widened slightly.
The host heard nothing.
But Minsoo did.
The flutter of wings.
"I was never an ordinary child," Minsoo said, his voice eerily calm. "So I couldn't grow into an ordinary man who loves… and is loved. Sometimes, when I see two people holding hands on the street, I wonder… will I ever be able to look at someone like that… without seeing the shadows behind them?"
The host exhaled inwardly, trying to escape the growing darkness.
"Well… everyone has memories. What's your earliest one?"
At that question
Everything changed.
Minsoo slowly closed his eyes.
And the studio disappeared.
A scream tore through the silence of the past.
A man roaring in rage.
A blurred image of thick blood… so much blood… mixing with rainwater on the filthy ground of a narrow alley. The stench of soaked garbage.
The shadow of a small child trembling beside a restaurant dumpster. A streetlamp flickering, on the verge of dying.
Then
A red umbrella.
Red heels.
A drop of water falling slowly from its edge… landing on a blue feather lying in the mud.
Minsoo returned to reality.
He opened his eyes slowly, a cold smilesomething not quite human—forming on his lips.
"Perhaps… I remember the first time I met my siblings… Suhyeon and Himi."
He raised his gaze toward the camera. There was something strange in his eyes—like a message meant for someone watching from the other side.
"We grew up together in an orphanage. They are the roots that keep me from falling into the abyss."
Silence returned once more.
But this time… it wasn't ordinary.
Because everyone knew
Minsoo's childhood had never been a normal one. It was a child's struggle against loss and abandonment… a boy who had lost every memory before the age of ten.
No name.
No identity.
This was what everyone knew about Minsoo—a world-famous idol rapper who had endured a painful childhood, and who had finally been smiled upon by life.
But inside Minsoo… there was no one who truly knew him except Minsoo himself.
His eyes trembled slightly.
Cold drops of sweat rolled down his forehead.
On the host's shoulder, a glowing blue feather slowly descended—unseen by anyone in the studio… except Minsoo.