“PD-nim, are you feeling okay?” I answered in a rush, still fidgeting with my phone. Pushing the lingering unease to the back of my mind, I switched my wallpaper back to the default. The assistant director was watching me with concern, but I ignored him and turned on the computer to double-check everything. The file I’d been working on was still intact. And the date remained: January 14th, 20XX. “...This is seriously weird. Something going on?” Next, I opened the portal site and searched my name. Next to the words “Seo Hoyun,” my familiar profile popped up. A picture of me holding a mic at a press conference. QBS PD. With my heart thumping like mad, I typed in The Dawn’s name. Only unfamiliar book titles and song names came up. I typed the members’ names one by one into the search bar, but all I found were unrelated people with the same names. The idol group The Dawn, as I knew it, didn’t exist. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ Raking a hand roughly through my hair, I messed it up completely and got up from my seat. “Uh, where are you going? Don’t tell me—to the director?” “No. Mind your own business.” I grabbed only my phone and stepped outside the office. Everything looked exactly the way I remembered it. Walking quickly through the crowd of exhausted station staff, a few familiar faces nodded greetings. But that couldn’t be right. The memory of coughing up blood and collapsing in Min Jiheon’s house was still far too vivid. Looking at the reflection of my face in the black screen of my phone, it clearly wasn’t the 24-year-old idol version. My dark circles from consecutive all-nighters reached all the way down to my jawline. My skin was dull and rough, lips cracked and bloodied. Not glowing—but sharp and drawn. This was clearly the PD version of me. “PD Seo, good to see you!” “...Ah, yeah, hello.” I gave a half-hearted bow while my eyes stayed fixed on my phone. I pulled up Seo Hojin’s contact but hesitated to call. After a moment’s pause, I finally pressed the call button. The ringtone rang endlessly, but it never connected. Peeling at a bit of dead skin on my lip, I sank into thought. This had to be the world Min Jiheon called my subconscious. A world built from my memories. He said that if I found the thing tangled up inside me and figured out what it was, I could get out. I stood there like an idiot with an anxious face, pacing the same spot, when writer Lee Jiseok—someone I’d worked with before—came back from a meal with some staff, holding coffee and chatting loudly. Then he spotted me, smiled brightly, and called out: “PD Seo! Let’s hit the smoking room.” “Ooh~, PD-nim! Let’s go?” The staff around chimed in, nudging me playfully. Even as I said that, I felt something hard and square in my chest pocket. I opened my jacket, reached inside, and pulled out a lighter—along with a pack of cigarettes. Was it just a manifestation of what I wished for? Or maybe this was a piece of memory, something I actually had back then? Pressing my lips tightly together, I tried to figure it out. Lee Jiseok gave me a half-lidded look and chuckled. “Yeah right, like you actually quit.” I clicked my tongue internally but said nothing, just followed the others toward the smoking area. As we stepped outside, the crisp and dry scent of winter hit me full in the face. Despite the chilly air, the sky was bright and clear. ‘How the hell am I supposed to get out of here?’ I remembered Min Jiheon’s advice. Roughly summarized, it was: don’t get attached, just wrap things up and get out. There was no one here I’d want to get attached to. I’d always wanted to leave this place early, always hoped to get away from the station. I didn’t know how much time had passed in reality, but all I’d said to Sung Jiwon was that I was stepping out to see the manager. After that, # Nоvеlight # I collapsed in Min Jiheon’s house—so the longer I delayed, the worse the cleanup would get. Best to finish this fast and leave. As I held an unlit cigarette between my fingers, spinning it instead of smoking, trying to gather my thoughts, the voices of those chatting around me slowly faded—and suddenly, everyone’s eyes turned toward me. “...PD-nim, we’ll leave you to it.” “We’ll head off first!” They quickly disappeared. I raised a brow at their hasty retreat—and then saw who was standing behind them. A sharply cut bob brushing her jawline, a small and slender figure. But the air around her was anything but soft. Please let this be just a memory. If this is my subconscious manifesting stuff, this is just way too pathetic. I fought to keep the corners of my mouth from twitching. “Knew I’d find you here.” Her tone was casual, familiar—it was jarring after how we’d parted. “...Why are you here?” “I used to work here too, you know. Why wouldn’t I come? I had something to say. Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Unless I misread the date, it had been a while since we broke up. And now Kim Heeyoung was suddenly looking for me? Coming all the way to a different network? She sighed, pulled out a cigarette from her back pocket, and lit it up. Her expression was complicated. “Ugh, what’s with that tone. What.” Sensing something strange, I asked carefully—half in fear, half in desperation: “What... what are we to each other right now?” I’d seen so much weird shit already, I just had to check. But the moment I said it, she kicked me hard in the shin. And even though this wasn’t supposed to be reality, it really fucking hurt. “You asshole! Don’t be sarcastic! We broke up, and now I show up and it’s a problem?!” “I wasn’t being sarcastic—” “You do know you’re a real piece of shit, right?!” Yep. We definitely broke up. I rubbed the spot where she kicked me. Kim Heeyoung’s face was red with anger. She seemed properly pissed. “God, you bastard. I came because I was worried, okay? As someone who knew you. But you just trample over people’s feelings and make everything a fucking mess. You’re so good at cutting people off cold.” “...You say that like I was the one who broke up with you.” “How is it any different? Technically speaking, you were the one who dumped me, weren’t you?!” What a loaded statement. She was the one who said it was over—and I was the one who nearly got slapped. But I had no reason to stir up that mess again, so I kept my mouth shut. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs n0velfire.net She sighed deeply, waving her hand like she didn’t even want to think about it anymore. “Whatever. That’s not what I came here to talk about. You had a show wrap recently, right?” That idol survival program for trainees. The one where I tried to push Sung Jiwon out—and failed. I nodded, and she continued. “Our station is about to launch a very similar program. ...I saw a bit of it, and honestly? It’s basically a copy of yours.” Yeah, I’d heard the rumors back then. In this industry, ripping off a hit show was just business as usual. “You knew? Did you see the proposal?” “Then doesn’t it piss you off?!” It was annoying, sure, but... “It’s not like it’ll be more popular than mine.” I replied indifferently, and Kim Heeyoung snapped the cigarette she was about to light in half. “God, you... Don’t you care what people say about you?” “They’re all calling you the villain editor, the devil—and you’re not even a little bit upset?” I paused and thought. It was true—I had given them villain edits. It was just a tactic to boost ratings. I didn’t really think I had anything to be upset about. “...Not really? Oww!” Kim Heeyoung smacked me hard on the back. “You! You don’t explain yourself at all, and people are just losing their minds over it! Everyone thinks you’re the bad guy!!” “So what? It’s not like I had some grand evil plan. I just did it for ratings.” “Bullshit! And it’s not like you do that to everyone! Do you know how many people you saved from being buried by editing them right?!” Abruptly, she stopped. She brushed up the bangs that had been shadowing her eyes. “...Forget it. You’re right. It’s not my place.” She really had too much leftover affection. If I were the Seo Hoyun of The Dawn, I would’ve only said that in my head. But now, I said it out loud. Kim Heeyoung didn’t react much—just looked up at me. “Don’t worry. I’m eating well and living fine.” Then I broke eye contact and looked away—only to freeze. Past Kim Heeyoung, far off in the distance, someone was staring straight at me. “What is it? Why do you look like that?” She asked, seeing my eyes widen—but her words didn’t even register. I stepped past her and took a few steps forward. The moment I did, the figure flinched and darted behind the building. “Hey! Where are you going?!” I shook off Kim Heeyoung’s hand as she grabbed my shoulder and sprinted in the direction of the figure. Then something strange happened. The flat, brown sidewalk tiles cracked and began to ripple. I nearly tripped but caught myself, looking up just in time to spot the small figure slipping into the emergency exit. Calling out, I dashed toward the emergency door. And just then, the building beside me folded in half with a deafening crash. No, not just the building—the ground itself folded upward, overlapping in massive square panels that blotted out the sky. I stopped dead, stunned by the abnormal scene, as people around me went about their business like nothing was happening—chatting, sipping drinks, walking casually. That’s when it hit me for real. This couldn’t be reality. ‘Back to the real world, my ass!’ Jolted by the reflection of my own face in a building window, I snapped out of it and burst through the emergency door, sprinting down the hallway. Familiar faces turned in surprise, calling my name, but I had no time to respond. “Hey! If you get caught, you’re dead!” That little shit kept just enough distance between us, teasing me like he was asking to be chased. I yelled, and he flinched hard—then turned the corner at the far end of the hall. I twisted my body, aiming to reach that intersection first. I knew this broadcasting station like the back of my hand. BANG! I shoved open the door connected to the emergency stairs, bounded down, and burst through the third door. Boxes filled with documents toppled everywhere. Some even floated or bounced unnaturally, making it hard to get through. It was like the world itself was trying to block me from getting closer. Papers slashed past me, boxes struck my body. Ignoring the pain, I sprinted after the figure climbing the stairs. I only saw his silhouette, the back of his head—but I knew. The moment I called, he stumbled, losing his footing. Seizing the chance, I closed the distance and grabbed him before he could fall. He was unbelievably light. I turned his shoulder and cupped his face with both hands, lifting it. I’d already suspected, but facing him directly, my heart dropped. Soft cheeks, fuzzy baby hair, small body far too young for his age— It was Seo Hojin. Ten years old. And suddenly, Min Jiheon’s words echoed in my mind. “Whatever appears—don’t let it enchant you.” His long lashes trembled. His moist, glistening eyes looked up at me. “...I’m okay, hyung.” How the hell was I supposed to not get enchanted by that?