Chapter 9
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Exhaustion overtook Yewon at last, following reluctant rounds of yutnori hauled from her place, make-believe medical games, and saccharine cartoons she barely tolerated.
Hanwon and Doha exhaled in unison once she drifted off completely.
“Out like a light,” Doha noted softly.
Hanwon nodded wearily. “What a mercy. Catering to her whims almost finished me off.”
Doha’s raw honesty sparked a predatory glint in Hanwon’s gaze.
Hanwon snapped first. “Don’t flatter yourself—I showed up for her sake, not yours. Hearing about her plight tugged at me.”
Doha pressed on without flinching. “Don’t let her bond too deeply with this spot.”
“You grasp it fully: raising her myself isn’t feasible. She deserves a nurturing home brimming with affection.”
Hanwon paled, words failing him as Doha’s unconsidered angle sank in. Had the decision to shelter her here been too rash?
Doha continued relentlessly. “Keep your warmth in check around her. Otherwise, she’ll cling so fiercely she dreads departure.”
A heavy quiet fell the instant Yewon vanished from sight, flipping their dynamic entirely.
Hanwon broke it. “Got a destination lined up for her?”
Doha admitted flatly. “Still searching. Reached out to Yeonho for leads.”
“But what if she fights to remain?”
Pure delusion, Doha countered. Expose a child of seven to our chaos? Reporters and obsessed fans swarm this structure, hungry for scandals. We’re lucky headlines haven’t erupted.
Hanwon’s exhale carried the weight of regret.
Any exposure would scar Yewon deepest. Not our reputations at stake—hers. Her father’s disappearance, our tangled lineage splashed nationwide. Why doom her path forward?
Few understood Doha’s guarded world like Hanwon did.
He knew the scars driving Doha’s secrecy, his fierce grip on solitude. Protest died unspoken.
Public scorn batters us relentlessly already. No need to drag her under the barrage.
The crisis deepened by the day.
GLEET endured nationwide vilification, just as Doha described.
Hanwon yielded with a gusty sigh. “Existence here cuts deep.”
Behind the door, an eavesdropper absorbed every word.
His reluctance made sense now, Yewon reflected gravely. Urgency gripped her—she must counter this fast, lest eviction derail her mission entirely.
Pinpointing the heart of the turmoil became her priority.
She tuned back into their exchange.
Hanwon shifted gears. “Plans to resume track production? Or is that stalled forever? Never seen you idle this long.”
Doha’s retreat into the dorm stemmed from that deadlock.
“Is Eon returning from overseas?” Doha probed.
Hanwon bristled. “Contact him direct, fool. Leader’s your title, not mine.”
That edge explained Hanwon’s uncharacteristic bite.
“Eon’s the type to mobilize at a single summons,” Hanwon added. “Silent grinder, motives shrouded. Who comprehends him?”
One abroad, another vanished—
The rift wounding these remnants so profoundly.
“Updates on Yoo Taeyoung?”
“Taeyoung ghosting everyone still?”
GLEET’s fracture traced to Taeyoung’s exit.
Five men formed the idol outfit at launch, courtesy of Time Entertainment—one of Korea’s elite agencies renowned for polished ensembles—after a six-year hiatus.
Their tracks echoed through city veins.
Even Yewon, fixated solely on screen work, recognized the phenomenon.
Doha anchored as stylistic focal point and architect of melodies, backed by versatile talents who vaulted to stardom.
Mastery spanned creation, verses, orchestration.
Lee Doha embodied prodigy poached from music circles into idols.
Han Hanwon dominated dance circuits, drawing bids from industry giants.
Seo Yeonho rose via juvenile rap battles.
Ian, the Anglo-Korean sensation with magnetic allure, modeled young.
Yoo Taeyoung commanded leads, agency’s prized asset.
Synergy propelled them to pinnacles swiftly.
Debut honors year one, track of the year next, ultimate accolade by three.
Idyll held firm.
“Why Doha perpetually spotlighted? Why his packed roster?”
Discord surfaced fourth year.
Taeyoung’s outburst stunned the quartet.
Doha reeled hardest.
Thrust into prominence and command by agency decree—not ambition—this blindsided him.
Corporate blueprint morphed organic by sophomore release, etching Lee Doha as essence.
Logical evolution: he shaped every record.
Peerless across idols, executives leaned indispensable.
Fans equated GLEET’s core with him.
Comrades embraced it seamlessly.
Taeyoung shattered precedent after years.
Others scoffed. “Out of nowhere? Laughable, Taeyoung.”
Wooyeon, Yeonho, Eon ribbed lightly.
Tension gripped Taeyoung and Doha alone.
“Main vocals bear grueling loads,” Taeyoung vented. “Yet spotlights flock to Lee Doha.”
“Not his doing,” came retorts. “You claimed those burdens willingly. Doha’s range rivals yours; you insisted on spotlight duty.”
Truth rang clear: Doha’s timbre matched elite.
He’d yielded deliberately, cementing Taeyoung’s archetype per design.
Consensus rendered the gripe nonsensical.
Center role chafed Doha; he relinquished without protest.
Wooyeon erupted. “Absurd! Hold your ground—it’s collective gain! I veto this!”
Team cohesion frayed visibly.
Taeyoung bristled yet conceded.
Escalation followed.
Tune refrains to my timbre.
Elevate my showcase in peaks.
Ease choreography pitch.
Taeyoung pleaded tweaks relentlessly.
Members recoiled; Doha complied mutely.
Efforts futile.
Taeyoung departed regardless.
Doha’s residence sprawled in monochrome gleam—ebony and chrome dominating.
Post-nurturing fatigue pinned the lanky duo prone, eyes fixed upward amid dialogue.
Hanwon circled back. “While we’re digging, explain tolerating Taeyoung’s antics then?”
Doha pondered ceiling shadows. “His pain resonated too keenly to dismiss.”
