JYP asks Hyunjin to cut his long hair for a new concept—but Felix’s reaction makes the staff cry!
When JYPp demands Hyan Jin to cut his iconic long
hair, Felix’s shocking reaction turns the studio into chaos, leaving staff in unexpected tears.
Cut it. All of it. The command cracked through the rehearsal room like a whip, sharp and unrelenting.
JP’s voice was calm, but the kind of calm that carried no space for negotiation. Hyanjin froze
mid-motion, his hand still gripping the ends of his sweat dampened hair that clung stubbornly to
his neck after hours of practice. For a moment, no one breathed. The mirrored walls reflected his
wide eyes. The tension in his clenched jaw, the faint trimmer in the way his chest rose and fell.
The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and sweat. But beneath it hung something heavier, fear,
disbelief, a sudden pressure that felt like the entire room was collapsing inwards. Hunjin’s long
hair wasn’t just hair. It had become a symbol, a shield, a story of rebellion and survival. woven
into every strand. To cut it was to erase a part of him he wasn’t ready to let go of. Felix noticed
before anyone else the slight twitch at the corner of Hyanjin’s lips. The way his fingers tightened
as if holding on to more than just his hair. He felt the pang in his chest like an echo of his
friend’s unspoken scream. His throat tightened, but what came out shocked everyone, including
himself. No, it wasn’t loud, but it cut through the silence more violently than JYPp’s demand.
Heads snapped toward Felix, the boy whose freckles usually softened his presence, whose smile carried
warmth that soothed even the worst days. But now, his eyes blazed with a quiet fire that made the
staff stiffened. Hyanjin blinked at him, startled. This wasn’t in Felix’s nature. He was always the
one who yielded, the one who mediated. Yet now his voice trembled with raw conviction, betraying
a storm long buried beneath his gentleness. JP’s gaze sharpened, heavy and deliberate, as though
he were studying a puzzle piece that refused to fit into the picture he’d drawn. “Felix,” he said
slowly. Each syllable waited. “This is not your decision.” But Felix didn’t flinch. His fingers
curled at his sides, nails digging into his palms until the sting grounded him. He thought of
late nights when Hunen had broken down. When the weight of expectations crushed him so thoroughly
that his hair became his last form of rebellion, his last reminder that he could still choose
something for himself. Felix had sat beside him, listening to confessions spilled in whispers
that never left that practice room. And now JP was demanding that piece of him be ripped away.
“It matters,” Felix said, his voice steadier now, low but thick with emotion. More than you think,
a murmur rippled through the staff. Some looked down, others exchanged wary glances. The
fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, amplifying the tense quiet that seemed to
stretch on endlessly. Hyenjin’s breath hitched, but he still couldn’t speak. His throat burned
with words trapped between fear and gratitude. The silence broke when one of the stylists, a woman
who had been with the group since their debut, lifted a hand to her mouth. Her eyes shimmerred
and suddenly a tear rolled down her cheek. She tried to hide it, but it was too late. One by
one, the staff began to crack. Their own emotions bleeding through the professionalism they had
armored themselves with. Years of watching these boys grow, fall, rise, and bleed for their dreams
had bound them tighter than any contract. JYPp’s eyes swept across the room, catching the tears,
the shifting weight of unspoken protest. For the first time that night, his mask faltered just
slightly. He didn’t respond, “Not yet. Instead, the sound of someone’s muffled sob filled the
air, soft, but undeniable.” Yanjin’s heart thudded violently against his ribs. He wanted to reach
for Felix, to tell him to stop, to thank him, to do anything but stand frozen. Yet, he remained
still, his reflection in the mirror looking more fragile than he ever allowed himself to be. And
Felix, with trembling but unyielding defiance, kept his gaze locked on the man who held their
fate in his hands. The room wasn’t just silent now. It was alive with fear, with grief, with
a fragile kind of hope that maybe, just maybe, this moment could change everything. The
scissors glinted beneath the fluorescent light, lying silently on the makeup station like a
predator waiting for its prey. No one touched them, yet every eye in the room flickered toward
them as though they carried the weight of fate itself. Hyanjun stood motionless, his chest
heaving as though the simple act of breathing had become a rebellion. Felix was at his side
now, not moving closer, but anchoring him with a presence so fierce it felt like a shield. Felix.
Jip’s tone hardened, more deliberate than before, yet carrying a dangerous undercurrent. He took a
single step closer, his shoes echoing against the wooden floor. This is not a matter for debate.
The concept requires change. Hyanjin’s image is the key. Hyanjin’s lips parted, but no sound came
out. He had rehearsed in his mind so many times how he would defend himself if this moment ever
came. But in reality, his tongue was lead, his throat dry sand. It was Felix who spoke instead.
You’re asking him to kill a part of himself for a concept. Felix snapped louder than anyone had
ever heard from him. His accent thickened when he was upset, every word dripping with both anger
and desperation. “You think hair is just hair, but it’s not. Not for him, not for us.” JP’s eyes
narrowed. “Are you suggesting you know better than I do what the group needs?” Felix’s fists
clenched. “I’m saying that what the group needs is not to break him again. You don’t see what
happens when the cameras are off. You don’t hear him at night. His voice cracked at the last word,
and for the first time, Felix’s rage trembled with grief. The staff shifted uncomfortably. The
stylist who had cried earlier wiped her face, her hands shaking. The air was thick, pressing down
on everyone’s shoulders, every second stretching painfully long. JP’s silence was terrifying. He
studied Felix with the cool detachment of a man who had weathered decades in the industry, who
had crushed rebellions before they could bloom. Yet something in Felix’s defiance, something raw,
unfiltered, uncalculated, seemed to gnaw at that calm. Then unexpectedly, JYPp’s gaze shifted.
Hyanjin, the name was a command. Hyanjin flinched as though dragged back from the edge of some
abyss. His eyes darted between Felix and JP. His reflection in the mirror, the scissors on the
table. His breath came shallow. Too quick. What do you want? Juw’s question was sharp, demanding,
almost cruel. Your answer, not his. The room waited. Yanjin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.
His hair fell into his eyes, shielding him for a moment, but he could still feel their stairs. JP’s
Felix’s, the staffs, the unblinking reflection of himself. His lips trembled. I His voice cracked.
He forced air into his lungs again. I don’t know. The admission shattered Felix more than any
refusal could have. He turned to Hyanjin, his expression a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. You
do know, Felix whispered fiercely. You’ve always known. Don’t let him take it from you. Yanjin
shook his head, panic tightening his chest. His voice rose suddenly, a scream disguised as a plea.
I can’t, Felix. I can’t fight him. I can’t fight all of this. His words ricocheted off the mirrored
walls, echoing like the cry of someone drowning. The staff froze, their emotions surfacing in raw
gasps and muffled sobs. It was no longer about hair. It was about survival, identity, the scars
they carried but never showed to the world. JP, however, did not flinch. His gaze remained steady,
almost cold. But deep in his eyes flickered something that was harder to read. Was it doubt or
was it something more dangerous? You think this is about you? JYPp said slowly, directing his words
at Hyanjin. But it’s not. It’s about the group, about millions waiting for something new, about
sacrifice. If you’re not ready to make it, he paused, letting the weight of his words sink
like stones. Then maybe you’re not ready to be here. The threat was not shouted, not dramatic.
It was worse than that. It was calm, deliberate, lethal. Hyanjin staggered back as though struck.
His stomach churned. He thought he might vomit. Felix reached out instinctively, grabbing his
wrist, grounding him before he collapsed. Their eyes met Hyanjin’s wide and broken. Felix is
burning and unwavering. And then Felix did something no one expected. He let go of Hyanjin’s
wrist, strode across the room, and picked up the scissors from the table. The sharp sound of metal
scraping against metal as he opened and closed them filled the room. He turned back to JYPp,
holding the scissors not as a stylist would, but as though they were a weapon. If cutting hair is
all it takes to prove something, Felix said, his voice steady now, carrying a dangerous calm. Then
cut mine, the room gasped. Hyanjin’s eyes widened, horror washing over him. Felix, no. But Felix
didn’t look away from JYPp. His knuckles widened around the scissors, but his expression was iron.
I’ll do it right here, right now. But if you touch him, his voice dropped to a whisper sharp enough
to slice glass. Then you’ll lose more than hair. The silence that followed was unbearable. A
silence heavy with unspoken war. And then, without permission, without warning, Felix brought
the scissors to his own hair. The first strands fell to the floor. The staff broke into tears.
The scissors clattered onto the wooden floor. Strands of Felix’s freshly cut hair scattered
around his sneakers like fallen feathers. The staff’s muffled cries filled the silence, their
sobs turning into a chorus of disbelief. Hyanjun’s chest eggded as though his heart had been ripped
out of him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, only watch as Felix stood there with his face
pale, but his eyes ablaze. JP’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t react the way anyone expected. No
anger, no raised voice. Instead, he looked almost unnervingly calm, as if he had seen this rebellion
play out a hundred times before in other faces, other voices. But beneath that composure, there
was something new. A flicker of unease he couldn’t completely hide. Felix bent down, picked up the
scissors again, and pressed them into the wooden makeup table with a sharp scrape, leaving a small
dent in its surface. His hands trembled, but his voice did not when he spoke. You wanted sacrifice,
Felix said, his gaze burning through JP. Here it is. But it won’t be his. Hyanjin staggered
forward, his voice breaking as he cried out, “Stop it, Felix. Please stop. Don’t do this for
me.” His hand reached out, shaking violently, but Felix didn’t move. The sound of Hunin’s voice
cracked something in the air. The room was filled with tension so heavy it might shatter glass.
the staff whispered, some covering their faces, some shaking their heads as though they were
witnessing something forbidden. JYPp finally stepped forward. The weight of his presence seemed
to pull the room tighter, silence pressing down on every chest. “Felix,” he said quietly, almost too
softly for the rage boiling underneath. “Do you think this makes you a hero? Do you think this
changes the reality of the industry you’re in?” Felix’s lips curled into something caught between
a smirk and a snarl. “No,” he answered. “But it changes you. It forces you to see us as humans,
not puppets you can cut and shape however you please.” Hyanjun’s knees buckled. He stumbled
back against the mirrored wall, his reflection fractured by the cracks running through the glass
from years of abuse and stress metaphorical. Yet, it felt almost literal now, his vision blurred as
tears filled his eyes. Not from weakness, but from the unbearable mix of gratitude and terror. Felix.
His voice was barely a whisper. But Felix heard. Felix always heard. The tension reached a breaking
point when another voice cut through. Enough. It wasn’t JYPp. It wasn’t Felix. It wasn’t Hyanjin.
Bang Chan had entered his presence, filling the doorway like thunder rolling into a storm
already raging. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes darted immediately to Felix’s hair
on the ground. Then to Hyanjin’s trembling form, then finally to JP. The room froze. Bangchan’s
voice was calm, but in the way a storm is calm before it destroys everything in its path.
What’s going on here? No one answered. The silence roared louder than any confession. The
staff looked down, their tears betraying them. Felix’s chest rose and fell like a soldier on
the battlefield, refusing to drop his shield. Hyanjin couldn’t even meet his leader’s eyes.
Jan stepped further into the room, his sneakers crunching faintly against the fallen strands of
Felix’s hair. He bent down slowly, picked one up, and let it fall through his fingers. His jaw
tightened. “Who made him do this?” His voice was dangerously low. “I did,” Felix said
immediately, his defiance sharp as steel. But JYPp’s voice overlapped with his at the exact
same moment. I did. The clash of their answers rippled like an explosion. Bang. Chan’s eyes
snapped to JP, then back to Felix. For a moment, the leader looked caught between rage and
something far heavier. Betrayal. JP didn’t flinch. He looked straight at Chan. It’s part of
the concept, a sacrifice that needed to be made. Chan’s lips parted in disbelief, his breath
shaking as he exhaled. His eyes burned, but he didn’t raise his voice. Instead, his calmness
was terrifying. “Sacrifice?” he repeated slowly. “Do you even hear yourself?” “He’s not a soldier.
He’s not a pawn on your chessboard. He’s Felix, my brother.” The word brother made Felix’s
chest tighten. Hyanjin’s breath hitched. The staff openly wept now, unable to contain it
any longer. JYPp’s mask cracked just slightly. You don’t understand the pressure. No. Chan cut
in sharply, stepping closer, his voice low but deadly. You don’t understand what it means to
break someone so badly they can’t even tell you what they want anymore. He glanced at Yanjin,
whose shoulders shook violently as he hid his face behind his hands. Then Chan looked back at
Felix, who still stood defiant, hair uneven and scattered, scissors clenched on the table. “This
ends now,” Chan declared. No more threats. No more demands that strip us down to nothing. If you want
new concepts, fine. We’ll work harder than anyone else. But if you think you can keep cutting us
open just to see what bleeds. His voice cracked for the first time, but he pushed through. Then
you don’t deserve us. The room exploded with emotion. Staff sobbed openly now. Felix’s eyes
widened, his mask of defiance faltering as his leader’s words sank into him. Hyanjun dropped
his hands from his face, tears streaking down his cheeks, his chest trembling with both relief
and fear. JP said nothing. His silence was more terrifying than his commands. He looked around
at the room filled with people staring at him, not with respect, but with something darker.
Accusation, disappointment, rebellion, and then without another word, JYPp turned and
left. The door slammed shut, rattling the walls. The silence that followed was deafening. Hyanjin
collapsed to the floor, his body racked with sobs. Felix rushed to him immediately, kneeling beside
him, pulling him into his arms as though holding him together with sheer will. I’m sorry, Felix
whispered over and over, his voice breaking, his tears falling into Hunin’s hair. I’m so sorry.
Hanjun shook his head violently, gripping Felix’s shirt like it was the only thing tethering him
to the world. Don’t Don’t ever do that again, he cried, his voice muffled against Felix’s chest.
Don’t hurt yourself for me. Bangchan stood above them, his fists trembling, his heart torn between
fury and heartbreak. He looked at the staff, their tear streaked faces reflecting the weight of
what had just happened. And he knew this was only the beginning because JYPp would not let this
go. And neither would they. The rehearsal room of fear even after JYPp had left. The door had
slammed shut with such force that dust rattled down from the corners of the ceiling. Yet the
echo of his absence lingered, louder than his presence. No one dared move for a full minute, as
if the very air itself had been cursed. Hyanjin’s sobs grew ragged, each one cutting deeper into
Felix’s chest. Felix held him tighter, whispering apologies that sounded more like confessions,
his throat raw. Chan paced behind them, his fists clenching and unclenching, the muscles
in his jaw twitching with a fury he was trying desperately to contain. Finally, Chan stopped, his
voice was low, but it carried across the silent room like a thunderclap. We can’t keep doing this.
Felix looked up, his eyes red and wet, strands of his uneven hair sticking to his forehead. What
do you mean? Chan’s gaze was sharp, unflinching. We can’t keep letting him decide who we are. We
can’t keep breaking ourselves to fit into the mold he draws for us. One day, one of us won’t
come back from it. He looked down at Hyanjin, then at Felix’s trembling hands, still clutching
him. And that day nearly came tonight. Hyanjun wiped at his face with the back of his hand, his
body still shaking. His voice came out but steady. You don’t understand, Hung. He’ll destroy us if we
defy him like this. He’ll ruin our careers. He’ll He already is. Chan cut in sharply, his voice
dripping with bitterness. Every day we bend until we snap. Every time we silence ourselves, a piece
of us dies. Don’t tell me that isn’t destruction. The words hung heavy. Staff exchanged glances,
unsure whether they should leave or stay. But unable to tear themselves away from the storm
brewing in front of them, Felix finally pulled back slightly, enough to look Hyanjin in the
eyes. His own were swollen, glassy, but fierce. I don’t care if he ruins me. I care if he ruins you.
Hyanjin’s lips parted, but no words came. Instead, a choked sound escaped. A mix between a sob and
a laugh. Disbelief painted across his features. “Why would you do that for me?” he whispered.
Felix’s voice dropped lower, but it carried the kind of weight that left no room for doubt.
Because you’re worth it. Because you’ve carried so much alone and still kept going. because I’d
rather lose everything than watch him cut you down piece by piece until there’s nothing left of you.
Hyanjin’s breath shuddered. His heart pounded so violently he thought it might tear out of his
chest. He wanted to say something, anything, but his throat tightened until all he could do
was lower his head into Felix’s chest again, hiding the tears he could no longer control. Chan
exhaled shakily, rubbing his temples. He wanted to be the strong one, the leader, the anchor.
But he felt the cracks forming inside him too, the endless pressure weighing on his shoulders. He
turned toward the staff. “You all saw this,” Chan said, his tone sharp. “You all felt it. You know,
this isn’t just about hair. This is about control, about being pushed until we’re unrecognizable to
ourselves. How long are we supposed to endure it?” The stylist who had cried earlier stepped forward
hesitantly. Her hands trembled as she spoke. “We we don’t want this either. We’re told what to
do. We don’t have the power to protect you.” Her voice cracked. “But we care, God. We care so
much. That’s why we can’t stop crying.” Another staff member, a younger man with trembling hands,
added, “If we speak against him, we’ll be fired, blacklisted. But if we stay silent, we’re
complicit. We’re all trapped. The room was thick with shared pain with the realization
that everyone was chained in different ways. Chan’s eyes softened, though his voice remained
steady. Then we break the chains together. Silence fell. The idea was too big, too dangerous, too
impossible. Yet no one could deny the way their hearts leapt at it. The way something long buried
inside them stirred awake. Hyanjin finally pulled away from Felix. His cheeks stre with tears, but
his gaze clearer than before. If we fight him, he’ll make us pay. Felix reached out, taking
Hyunjin’s hand. His grip was firm, unshakable. Then let him. But we fight anyway. Hyunjin stared
at him, overwhelmed, terrified, but also somewhere deep inside, hopeful. Before anyone could respond,
the door creaked open again. Everyone stiffened, heart leaping into their throats. But it wasn’t
JYPp. It was Han, Sunung Min, and I. N. Their faces pale with confusion as they stepped into the
room. “What the hell happened here?” Han demanded, his voice sharp, scanning the room until his eyes
landed on Felix’s uneven hair and the scissors dented into the table. His breath caught. “Oh
my god,” Sunung means usual calm cracked into visible panic. “Did Did he do this to you?” he
asked, his voice trembling as he looked between Felix and Hyanjin. Felix shook his head, though
his jaw tightened. “No, I did it.” Hans’s eyes widened. “Why?” Felix looked at Hyanjin, his grip
tightening around his hand. “Because he was about to lose himself, and I wasn’t going to let that
happen.” The words sent another ripple through the room. Sunmen covered his mouth, his eyes glassy.
“I n stepped forward slowly, his fists trembling. We can’t let this happen again, he said quietly.
But there was steel in his tone. We can’t just keep surviving his demands. We need to protect
each other. Chan nodded slowly, his eyes burning. That’s exactly what I said. Starting tonight, we
don’t just endure, we resist. The group stared at him, stunned. Resistance wasn’t a word they had
ever dared to speak out loud. But now it was real, pulsing in the air like fire. Hyanjin looked down
at Felix’s hand gripping his. He could still feel the sting of betrayal from his own inability to
speak up earlier, but also the warmth of Felix’s unyielding faith. And for the first time in a
long time, he felt something more powerful than fear. Maybe they could fight. Maybe they already
had. The dorm was too quiet, too suffocating. The seven of them sat in the living room, the glow
from the city outside painting fractured light across their faces. No one touched the snacks
left on the table. No one reached for their phones. The silence stretched, taught as a wire,
waiting to snap. Felix sat hunched on the couch, strands of his unevenly cut hair falling into his
face. His hands clasped so tightly his knuckles had turned pale. Hyanjin sat beside him, his knee
bouncing uncontrollably, his body trembling with leftover adrenaline and fear. Chan leaned against
the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on the floor as if answers might rise up from the shadows.
Hands sat on the edge of the armchair, restless, eyes darting between his members. Sunman sat
rigid, his lips pressed into a thin line, while I, N, kept his fists balled up, staring at
nothing. It was Hyanjin who finally broke. His voice cracked as it tore through the silence. He’s
going to destroy us. Everyone flinched. Felix’s head snapped toward him. No, he’s not. Not if we
stand together. Hyanjene shook his head violently, his voice rising. You don’t understand. You
think this ends with hair? He’ll find another way to take something from me, from all of us.
He always does. His words spilled out faster, more desperate. Do you know what it feels like to
lose yourself piece by piece until you don’t even recognize your reflection anymore? Do you? His
voice broke on the last word. Tears glistened in his eyes, but his expression was twisted with
anger. Not weakness. I do, Felix said quietly, his voice low, almost a whisper. I know
exactly what that feels like, Hyanjin froze, the anger in his chest colliding with guilt.
Felix’s eyes lifted, finally meeting his, and the room tilted on its axis. There was no
defiance in Felix’s gaze now, only pain. Pain that ran deeper than the scissors he had pressed into
his own hair. “You’re not the only one who’s been broken,” Felix continued, his voice trembling.
“I’ve been silent all this time because I thought maybe if I just kept smiling, I could protect
you, protect everyone. But silence is killing me, too.” The room went still. Han leaned forward
suddenly, his voice sharp. Then what? What’s your plan? You think we can just tell him no and walk
away? He’ll blacklist us. We’ll never work again. He’ll bury us in this industry before we even get
the chance to breathe. Maybe we let him. Felix snapped back, the sudden heat in his tone shocking
everyone. His chest heaved as he leaned forward, his eyes burning. Maybe we burn everything down
before he takes it from us piece by piece. At least then it’s our choice. Are you insane?
Han shut up from his seat, his voice nearly a scream. You’re talking about destroying everything
we’ve worked for, everything we’ve bled for. You’d throw it all away because you’re angry? Because
you think you’re some kind of martyr? I’m not a martyr. Felix roared back, his voice breaking with
rawness. I’m just tired. Tired of watching him strip us bare and call it art. Tired of watching
Hyanjin drown while we pretend everything’s fine. Tired of pretending this dream is worth dying for
when it’s already killing us. Hyanjin flinched at the words, his breath hitching as tears
spilled down his cheeks, Chan’s head lifted, his eyes sharp now. Dangerous. “Enough,” Chan said
firmly, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. But no one listened. Hans’s face twisted,
his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “And what, Felix? You cut your hair in some grand
act of rebellion, and now you think you can take down JYPp with a speech about freedom. You don’t
even know what you’ve started. Felix’s laugh was bitter, hollow. I know exactly what I started, and
I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees. Sunman finally slammed his hand down on the table,
the sharp cracks startling everyone. His voice, usually steady, erupted with venom. Do you even
hear yourselves? We’re tearing each other apart while he’s the one pulling the strings. This is
exactly what he wants. For us to break from the inside, the words silenced them for a moment. The
only sound was the faint hum of the city outside. The ticking of the old clock on the wall. Chan
pushed off the wall, stepping forward. His eyes were dark, his jaw clenched. Soon men’s right. If
we fight each other, he wins. If we stay silent, he wins. The only way we win is if we fight him
together. Hyanjin shook his head again, his voice trembling. You don’t get it. He doesn’t play fair.
He’ll drag our names through the mud. He’ll call us ungrateful. He’ll make the public turn on us.
He’ll then let him, Chan interrupted, his voice low but burning. Let him try because we’re not
just idols. We’re people. And if he thinks he can erase that, he’s wrong. The weight of the
words crashed over them, too heavy to ignore. Felix’s hands shook as he reached for Hyunjin
again, his voice softer now, pleading, “Hiun, please. I don’t care what happens to me. But don’t
let him take you away from me, from us. You’re still here. You’re still you. Don’t let him win.”
Hyanjin’s chest heaved, his vision blurring with tears. He wanted to believe Felix. He wanted to
believe Chen, but the fear inside him was louder, deeper, older than words. And then the door
to the dorm burst open. They all whipped their heads toward it, hearts racing. In the doorway
stood a figure none of them expected to see. It was JP. His presence filled the room like poison
seeping into lungs. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. He scanned
the room. The tension, the fear, the rebellion etched into every tear streaked face. You think I
don’t know what you talk about when I’m not here. JYPp’s voice was calm, almost amused. “You think
walls don’t have ears?” The air collapsed in on itself. Felix rose slowly to his feet, his body
trembling, but his gaze steady. “Then you know we’re done being silent.” “Jp smiled faintly, but
it wasn’t kind. It was the smile of a man who had already drawn blood and was ready to draw more.”
“Good,” he said softly. “Then let’s see how loud you can scream when the world turns against
you.” The room erupted in chaos. The sound of JYPp’s words hung in the dorm like smoke after an
explosion. The boys froze. Every muscle locking, their breath stolen. His presence inside their
home was wrong. Like an intruder who had found a way into their most sacred space. He wasn’t
supposed to be here. Not where they laughed, cried, fought, and tried to survive together.
Felix’s chest heaved. He stood in front of Hyanjin instinctively, blocking him from JYPp’s view. The
jagged cut of his hair stuck out in messy tufts, but his eyes burned with unflinching defiance.
“You can threaten me all you want,” Felix said, his voice shaking, but sharp enough to cut. “But
you won’t touch him again.” JP’s gaze flicked to Felix, studying him like a scientist dissecting
something fragile. Then he smirked. “You think you’re protecting him?” “No, Felix. You’ve just
painted a target on both of your backs.” Yanjin’s breath caught, his fingers digging into the couch
cushion until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to scream, to beg Felix to stop, but the words
stuck in his throat like shards of glass. Chan stepped forward, his voice steady, but seething.
You have no right to come into our dorm. This is our space. Our space? Jip’s voice turned mocking,
the smirk widening. This space exists because of me. The air you breathe, the songs you sing, the
stages you stand on, I built them. Don’t confuse privilege with freedom. Han’s voice cracked as he
burst out. We’re not your property. For the first time, JYPp’s smirk faltered, his eyes narrowed.
Careful, Jiong. But Han didn’t stop. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his voice growing louder,
fueled by years of swallowed frustration. We bleed. We break our bones. We destroy our bodies
to keep this dream alive. and you treat us like we’re disposable, like we’re costumes you can
change when you’re bored. We’re not your [ __ ] puppets.” The room shook with his words. Sung
Min’s lips parted, shock flickering across his usually calm features. But then something inside
him cracked, too. He leaned forward, his voice like ice. Do you know what it feels like to stay
up all night rehearsing until your throat bleeds, only to be told you’re still not good enough? Do
you know what it feels like to never be enough for the man who claims he gave you everything?
JYPp didn’t move. His silence was worse than his words. His stillness more terrifying than a
slap. I N, who had been trembling silently at the edge of the room, suddenly stepped forward. His
fists shook, his young face twisted with rage and tears. “You think you made us? You didn’t make
us. We made ourselves. You don’t own our souls.” His voice cracked. “And if you try to take them,
you’ll have to kill us first.” The room exploded with gasps. The youngest’s voice, raw and jagged,
carried more weight than anyone’s screams. JP’s expression darkened. The mask of calm slipped.
And for the first time, they saw the man beneath the anger. The contempt, the hunger for control.
You, ungrateful little. Before he could finish, Felix stepped forward, shoving himself closer,
his chest nearly touching JP’s. His voice was low, trembling with rage. Say it. Call us ungrateful.
Call us failures. Break us in front of the world if you want. But you’ll never own us again. JP’s
hand twitched at his side as though he wanted to strike. But then he froze. His eyes darted around
the room at the tears streaking Hunin’s face, at Chan’s deadly calm glare, at hand shaking
fists, at Sun-Men’s icy rage, at defiant stance. He saw it. The line had been crossed. The control
he had once held like a leash was slipping, snapping strand by strand. And then he laughed. It
wasn’t joy. It wasn’t humor. It was cold, cruel. A sound that sent chills down their spines. You
think rebellion will save you? His voice dripped venom. The industry doesn’t forgive. The fans
don’t forgive. When I decide to cut you down, no one will catch you. You’ll be nothing. Shadows of
what you could have been. Hyanjin finally snapped. He surged to his feet, his voice raw, broken, but
louder than he had ever been before. Then let us be nothing. His chest heaved, tears streaming
freely down his cheeks. Because I’d rather be nothing than live as your puppet another second.
The words hit like an earthquake. JP’s laughter cut off abruptly. His smile fell. For the first
time, he looked shaken. Hyanjins voice, the one he had tried so hard to silence, had roared
through the room like fire breaking through ice. Felix turned to Hyanjin, his own tears falling
now. “Hun?” Hyanjin didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed locked on JP, his body trembling, his hands
clenched. “You broke me once,” he whispered, his voice. “But you won’t break me again.” Silence.
Heavy crushing silence. Then JYPp’s voice came. low and dangerous. You’ll regret this.” He
turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing like gunshots down the hall. The door slammed shut
behind him, rattling the frame. For a long time, no one moved. No one breathed. The only sound
was the ragged sobs that tore from Hyanjin’s throat as he collapsed back onto the couch. Felix
dropped beside him, wrapping his arms around him, holding him as though shielding him from the
entire world. Chan sank into the nearest chair, his hands covering his face, his body shaking
silently. Hand paced like a caged animal, muttering curses under his breath. Sunung
men sat down heavily, his eyes glassy, staring at the floor as though it might open up
and swallow them whole. I in sank onto the rug, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders
trembling. It was Felix who broke the silence. His voice was soft but unyielding. We can’t go
back. Not after this. Chan lowered his hands, his eyes bloodshot but steady. We don’t go back.
We move forward. Hyunjin lifted his head slowly, his eyes swollen, his voice barely audible. How?
He’ll destroy us. Felix’s grip tightened. Then we destroy him first. The room went still. Felix’s
words didn’t come with fire or shouting this time. They came cold, quiet, deadly. They carried
something none of them had ever heard from him before resolve. And in that moment, they all knew
the rebellion had already begun. The night was too heavy to sleep. The city outside buzzed faintly.
Neon lights bleeding through the curtains. But inside the dorm, the air was suffocating. Every
breath carried the residue of JYPp’s threats. Every silence echoed with the weight of what
had been said. No one dared to close their eyes. Hyanjin sat by the window, knees pulled to his
chest, his long hair still untouched. Still, his falling and messy strands around his
face. The tears had dried on his cheeks, but the trembling hadn’t stopped. Felix sat on
the floor beside him, his head leaning against Yanjins leg, his fingers tangled loosely
with his. They hadn’t spoken for an hour. They didn’t need to. The silence between them was loud
enough. On the couch, Han paced in tight circles, his muttering growing louder every few minutes
until it burst into curses. He couldn’t hold back. He thinks he owns us. He thinks we’re too scared
to do anything. He’s wrong. He’s [ __ ] wrong. Sun men leaned against the wall. His eyes sharp even
in the dim light. He’s not wrong about everything. He holds the power. He controls the contracts,
the media, the image. If we push too far, he’ll turn everyone against us. Han spun on him,
his voice breaking with frustration. So what? We stay silent? Let him tear Hunin apart. Let him
drag Felix down with him. At what point do we say enough? Enough was tonight, Felix said suddenly,
his voice low but piercing. He lifted his head from Yanjins knee, his eyes bloodshot but
steady. when he walked into this dorm, when he dared to tell us we were nothing without him.
Enough was tonight. If we don’t fight back now, we never will.” Chan finally spoke from the corner
where he had been sitting in complete stillness, his elbows on his knees, his face hidden in
his hands, his voice was quiet, but it carried more weight than any shouting. “And what does
fighting back mean? Leaving? Exposing him? Burning everything we’ve built?” He lifted his head,
his eyes raw. because I need to know if you’re ready for that. All of you. Hyanjin’s breath
caught. He looked around the room at the people who had become his family. At the broken pieces of
himself reflected in their faces. His voice shook, but it was louder than before. I can’t survive
this if we don’t fight back. If that means losing everything, then I’d rather lose it together than
die slowly alone. The words cracked the room open. Han slammed his fist against the wall, the sound
reverberating. Then we fight. Whatever it takes. Sun men’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away.
Do you understand what that means? He’ll blacklist us. He’ll drag our names through every tabloid.
He’ll make us out to be traitors. Felix stood, pulling Hyanjin up with him. His voice was steady,
unyielding. Then let him. Let the world hate us if they have to, but at least the truth will be ours.
I, N, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke. His voice was soft, almost trembling, but
there was fire beneath it. He thinks we’re kids who will just obey. He’s forgotten that kids grow
up. He’s forgotten that even shadows fight back when the light tries to erase them. The youngest
words cut through the tension, and for a moment, the room went quiet again. Chan looked at each
of them in turn. He saw the fire in Felix’s eyes, the desperation in Hyanjun’s, the rage in Hans,
the cold determination in Sunman’s, the fragile but burning defiance in INS. And he knew the point
of no return had been crossed. Then we fight, Chan said finally, his voice steady. But we
don’t do it recklessly. We plan. We strike where it hurts. We take back control. Felix
nodded, his grip on Yanjin’s hand tightening. Where do we start? Jan leaned back, his gaze
hard. We start by telling the truth to the fans, to the world. If JYPp wants to destroy us, he’ll
have to do it in the open. No more shadows, no more silence. Hyanjin’s heart pounded
violently. The idea of exposing everything, the pain, the manipulation, the scars terrified
him. But at the same time, he felt something he hadn’t in years. Hope. Han grinned bitterly,
a dangerous edge to his smile. If we go down, we go down burning so bright they’ll never forget
our names. Sunun mean exhaled slowly, the ice in his voice softening just slightly. Then let’s
make sure we burn on our own terms. I N looked at Hyanjin, his eyes fierce despite the tears
threatening to spill. Young, when they see you fight back, they’ll know they can fight, too. You
won’t just save yourself, you’ll save all of us. Henjin’s throat tightened. He turned to Felix, who
looked back at him with quiet strength, as though he had known all along this was where they would
end up. And for the first time in a long time, Hyanjin nodded without hesitation. “Then let’s end
this.” The room erupted in a chorus of overlapping voices, arguments, strategies, fears, confessions.
The tension had transformed into something else, something sharper, something alive. They weren’t
just a group anymore. They were soldiers on the edge of war. And somewhere outside, beyond the
walls of their dorm, the world still slept, unaware that by morning, nothing would ever be the
same again. The clock on the wall blinked 32 a.m., but the dorm was alive, restless, burning. No
one could sit still. The walls themselves seemed to vibrate with the weight of the decision they
had made. They weren’t just idols anymore. They were rebels preparing for war. Chan sat at the
kitchen table. Papers scattered in front of him. Contracts, scribbled notes, timelines. His head
was in his hands, his eyes scanning every word as though searching for a weapon hidden between
the lines of their agreements. Han paced back and forth like a storm, his voice rising every few
seconds with bursts of rage. So men leaned against the counter, arms folded, his expression
sharp, calculating. I N sat on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, listening, absorbing,
the fire in his eyes growing stronger with every passing moment. But at the center of it all were
Hunen and Felix. Hunjin still looked fragile, pale under the kitchen light, his body trembling from
the emotional storm of the night. Yet when Felix’s hand brushed his, when Felix’s voice steadied him,
there was a new strength in his spine, a spark that hadn’t been there before. Listen, Chance said
suddenly, his voice cutting through the noise. If we go public, it has to be more than just a rant
or an accusation. If it looks like we’re lashing out emotionally, the media will crush us. We need
evidence. We need to make it undeniable. Evidence? Han snapped, spinning toward him. The evidence is
written all over Hyanjin’s face. The evidence is in Felix’s hair, in the bruises under our eyes,
in the way we can barely [ __ ] breathe without being told how to do it. How much more proof do
they need? They’ll need more. Sunman interjected coldly, his tone like a knife. You know how
this industry works. They’ll call us dramatic. They’ll call us spoiled. They’ll say we couldn’t
handle the pressure. If we want to tear him down, we need to rip the mask off his face in front of
everyone. We need recordings, messages, documents, something he can’t twist against us. The silence
that followed was heavy. They all knew Sun Min was right. Felix finally spoke. his voice quiet
but laced with steel. I don’t care what it takes. I’ll find it. I’ll dig through every corner until
I have something we can use. Hyanjen grabbed his wrist suddenly, his voice breaking. Lixie, no.
If he catches you, he won’t, Felix said firmly, his eyes locking with Yanjin’s. Not this time.
He underestimated us tonight. He thinks fear will keep us in line. But fear is all he has left.
Han let out a bitter laugh. Then let’s make him afraid for once. Chan looked around the table, his
jaw set. Then it’s decided. We gather everything we can. The truth. All of it. When we’re ready,
we tell the world. But how? I, N finally asked, his voice soft but steady. If we go through the
official channels, he’ll block it. If we try to post it, he’ll have it erased before anyone
sees it. We need someone who can’t be silenced. A silence fell as the weight of the question
sank in. They all knew the truth. In their world, silence wasn’t just enforced. It was bought. Hans
stopped pacing, his face twisted with a dangerous idea. What if we don’t go through the industry at
all? What if we go underground? Anonymous, viral, something he can’t trace back until it’s too late.
Felix’s eyes lit with something dark, dangerous, a leak. Songman raised an eyebrow. “And who do
you trust to handle that? Because if the wrong person gets it, we’re finished.” Yanjins
voice trembled, but he forced himself to speak. “There’s someone.” Every head turned toward him.
Hyanjun swallowed, his fingers clutching the edge of his chair. An old friend. Before debut, they
run an independent channel, not huge, but growing. They expose corruption in the industry, trainee
abuse, manipulation, contracts. They They tried to warn me once. Before everything, Felix stared
at him. “And you never told me?” Honjun’s voice broke. “I was scared. If JYPp knew I was talking
to them, I would have.” His words faltered. He looked down. I thought I could handle it alone.
The silence was sharp, cutting. Felix’s jaw clenched, but instead of anger, there was only
pain in his eyes. He reached across and pulled Hyanjin’s hand into his, “You don’t have to handle
it alone anymore. The room seemed to breathe again.” Chan leaned forward, his voice firm. Then
we contact them carefully. “If they’re legit, they might be our only chance,” Hans smirked bitterly.
Finally, a crack in the armor. But even as the fire of rebellion grew, shadows loomed. They all
felt it. The danger wasn’t coming. It was already here. Because at that very moment, outside the
dorm, a black car sat idling in the dark. Inside, two men watched the building. Their faces obscured
by the glow of their phones. A message buzzed on the screen. Keep eyes on them. No mistakes. Orders
from above. The air in the dorm had shifted. It wasn’t just tense anymore. It was electric,
charged with a dangerous energy that none of them could control. Every sound seemed sharper.
Every breath too loud. They all felt it. The walls were closing in. The outside world pressing
against them with invisible hands. And inside, the cracks in their unity began to show. It
started with a single question whispered by Sunman in the halflight of dawn. What if he’s
watching us already? The room froze. Felix turned, his face hard, but there was fear buried in his
eyes. Then let him watch. Let him see what’s coming. That’s reckless. Sunming shot back,
his voice cold. If we move too fast, too loud, he’ll crush us before we can even stand. Han
laughed bitterly, throwing his hands up. So what? We wait until he decides Hyanjin’s hair isn’t the
only thing he wants to cut until he strips Felix of everything that makes him human. We don’t have
time for careful. Hyanjin flinched at the words, his fingers curling into fists. Stop talking about
me like I’m some symbol. This isn’t about my hair. It’s about all of us. He wants to control every
part of who we are. His voice cracked, but his eyes blazed. And if we let him, we’re already
dead. Felix stepped closer, his hand brushing against Hyanjin’s shoulder, grounding him. His
voice, however, wasn’t calm. And it was sharp. Defiant. Hyanjin’s right. Careful hasn’t saved
us so far. Careful has only kept us chained. Chan slammed his palm on the table. The sound making
everyone jump. His voice was low, but it carried a weight that silenced the room. Enough. This
isn’t about reckless or careful. This is about survival. And survival means unity. If we start
tearing into each other, we’re giving him exactly what he wants. But unity was easier said than
done. I’m not tearing anyone apart. Han snapped, pacing again. His eyes flicked towards Sun-Men.
But some of us would rather hide behind strategy than actually do something. Tell me, Sunung mean,
when has silence ever saved anyone? Sun men’s lips pressed into a thin line, his voice icy. And when
is shouting ever changed this industry? If we blow up now without a plan, we’re not heroes. We’re
martyrs, dead and forgotten. The words hit harder than intended. Hunjins chest tightened, his
mind flashing back to nights alone in his room, crying into pillows, praying someone would notice
before he disappeared completely. Forgotten, that word haunted him more than anything. I won’t
be forgotten, he whispered, almost to himself. But Felix heard, and Felix grabbed his hand tightly,
pulling him back to the present. You won’t, Felix said fiercely. I won’t let you, for a moment.
The silence was filled only with their breathing, heavy and uneven. And then I, N, who had been
sitting quietly in the corner, suddenly stood, his eyes burned with a fury none of them had seen
before. You’re all acting like children fighting over scraps while he sits in his tower and laughs
at us. Do you think he cares whether we’re careful or reckless? He doesn’t care at all. He’s already
decided what we are. pawns, toys, disposable, and the longer we sit here arguing, the deeper
his claws sink into us. His words cut through the noise, raw and unpolished, but true. The youngest,
usually the quietest, had said what none of them wanted to admit. Han blinked at him, stunned.
Then a slow grin spread across his face. “Damn, Mcn, when did you get so sharp?” I didn’t smile.
His hands shook at his sides, but his voice didn’t falter. I got sharp the day I realized he was
killing us one by one, and nobody was coming to save us. The room went silent again. Chan rubbed
his face, exhausted, but his voice softened. You’re right. No one’s coming, which means we
save ourselves. He looked around at them, his eyes heavy with both fear and determination. So, let’s
stop pretending we’re deciding whether to fight. The decisions already made. The only question
left is how far we’re willing to go. Felix’s grip on Hyanjins hand tightened, his voice
unwavering. As far as it takes. Hyanjun looked at him, his heart twisting painfully. There was
no hesitation in Felix’s eyes, only a fire that terrified and comforted him at once. He wanted to
say something, to beg Felix not to throw himself into the fire for his sake. But the words died on
his tongue because deep down he knew Felix would do it anyway. Hans slammed his hands together. The
sound sharp. Good. Then let’s start by tearing off the mask. We leak everything. Every text, every
recording, every whisper. We set the world on fire. But Zumin shook his head, his voice low but
sharp. And what about the collateral? Do you think we’re the only ones under his thumb? If we drop
a bomb, others will get burned, too. trainees who don’t even know what’s happening. Staff who
can’t afford to lose their jobs. Are you ready to destroy them, too? The question hung in the
air like a blade? Felix was the first to answer, his voice trembling with fury. And what about
us? How much longer do we let ourselves burn so someone else can stay safe? At some point, we have
to choose ourselves. Hyanjins chest heaved, his breath uneven. He felt torn apart by every
word, every argument. The weight of their choices pressed down on him like chains. But for the
first time, he wasn’t carrying it alone. They were all breaking together. Chan exhaled long and
heavy. This is it. There’s no right answer. But we can’t sit still anymore. If we hesitate, he wins,
and I won’t let him win. No one argued this time. The silence that followed wasn’t hesitation.
It was resolve. And yet in the back of each of their minds, a question lingered like a ghost.
What would be left of them when the fire was over? The stage lights had never felt so blinding.
Soul’s biggest arena was packed. A sea of voices roaring for a concert they thought would be like
any other. Cameras flashed, banners waved, chants filled the air. But beneath the surface, there
was a current, restless, electric, dangerous. Tonight was not a performance. Tonight was a war.
Backstage, the members stood in a circle. Their hands were linked, trembling, their eyes locked.
No one spoke at first. The silence between them was louder than the crowd outside. Hyanjins
long hair shimmerred under the harsh fluorescent light, strands falling into his face. He looked
at each of them in turn, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. And then his eyes
landed on Felix. Felix’s grip was the tightest of all. His knuckles pale, his gaze burning with a
ferocity that shook even Chan. He leaned forward, his voice low, trembling with rage and love and
everything in between. We’re not backing out. Not now, not ever. We walk out there together and
we tell the truth. Even if it ends everything, Sunung men swallowed his jaw tense. It will end
everything. Don’t fool yourself. After tonight, we won’t have this anymore. No dorm, no schedules,
no contracts. We won’t even have each other if they tear us apart legally. Han barked out a sharp
laugh, running a hand through his hair. And what’s the alternative? Keep dancing on his strings until
we’re too broken to stand. I’d rather go down in flames than rot in silence. I N’s voice cut
through soft but sharp. Then let’s burn together. The words hit them all like a strike of lightning.
They nodded one by one, the resolve settling in their bones. This was the final act. The stage
manager shouted from the hallway. 2 minutes. Get ready. Hyanjin’s chest tightened. His throat was
dry, but he forced his voice to steady. If we do this, if it destroys us, will it be worth it?
Felix didn’t hesitate. He cuped Hunjins face right there in front of everyone, his voice
cracking but firm. It’s worth it because it’s true. and the truth is the only thing they can’t
erase. The others looked away, giving them the moment without saying anything. But their own eyes
glistened. Then the door burst open. Staff rushed in, panicked, whispers flying. JP’s here. He’s
demanding to see you before you go on. The circle broke. The blood in their veins turned cold.
Hyanjin felt his knees weaken, but Felix’s hand caught him before he could falter. Ignore him,
Felix spat. We walk past straight to the stage. We don’t look back, but the footsteps echoed in the
hallway before they could move. The man himself appeared immaculate suit, eyes sharp as glass,
smile that didn’t reach his face. The room froze under his gaze. So, this is what rebellion looks
like. JP said softly, almost amused. He stepped forward, his voice dripping with poison. You think
you can embarrass me? Expose me? Do you have any idea what I can do to each of you? Your families,
your names, your futures. You’ll be ghosts before the week is out. Felix stepped forward, shielding
Hyanjun instinctively. His voice was a growl. Do whatever the hell you want to me, but you don’t
touch him again. JP’s eyes narrowed. Ah, Felix, the loud one, always so dramatic. Tell me, do you
think your little fans will save you when they see who you really are? When they see the contracts
you signed, the rules you broke, the lies you told? You think love protects you? It doesn’t.
It enslaves you. Hyanjun’s body trembled, but something inside him snapped. He pushed past Felix
and faced JYPp head on. His voice was shaking, but it carried. You don’t own me anymore. You don’t
own us. The air was thick, suffocating. JP leaned in close, his whisper venomous. Then go ahead.
Ruin yourselves. I won’t need to lift a finger. The world will eat you alive. And then, without
waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out, leaving only silence in his wake. For a moment, no
one moved. No one breathed. And then Chan spoke, his voice trembling, but certain. We go on
right now before we lose our nerve. The stage call blared. The crowd roared louder. The
members walked toward the blinding lights, step by step, hearts pounding in unison. Felix
kept his hand laced with hyanjins until the very last second when they broke apart to take their
places. The music began. The performance started like normal synchronized moves. Powerful vocals,
cheers shaking the rafters. But halfway through, Hyanjin froze. His cue passed. The music faltered.
The audience gasped. And then Felix’s voice rang out. Not in song, but in raw, trembling
truth. We’re not here to perform tonight. The stadium erupted in confusion. The music
stopped completely. Cameras swung wildly. Staff backstage panicked. But Felix’s voice only grew
stronger. We’re here because we’ve been living a lie. Controlled, threatened, broken down until we
almost forgot who we were, and it has to stop now. Hyanjun stepped beside him, tears streaming down
his face, his long hair falling like fire in the lights. His voice cracked but carried across the
entire arena. They told me to cut my hair. They told me to cut myself until nothing was left.
But I won’t anymore. I am not their puppet. None of us are. The crowd was screaming now. Not
cheers, but chaos. Staff ran toward the stage, but the other members moved as one, forming a barrier
around Felix and Hyanjin. Han grabbed a mic. His laughter wild, desperate. You want the truth? Here
it is. This industry eats its own. It cages us, starves us, bleeds us dry. while you clap for the
show. Well, no more. We’re done playing nice.” Sunman’s voice cut in sharp as a blade. And if you
think we’re lying, wait until you see the proof. The recordings, the messages, everything they
tried to bury. I N’s voice rose above them all, trembling, but unbreakable. We’re not afraid
anymore. Security surged onto the stage. Fans screamed. Cameras broadcast every second live.
And through the chaos, Felix grabbed Hyanjin’s hand again, raising it high into the lights. The
world was watching. The world was listening. JYPp stood in the shadows of the arena, his smile
gone, his mask slipping. For the first time, his empire trembled. And on that stage, under
blinding light and deafening noise, the boys chose truth over survival. They chose fire over silence.
They chose each other. Whether it destroyed them or saved them no longer mattered. They were free.
The arena was still shaking with echoes long after the microphones cut. The lights blazed on the
empty stage. But the boys had been dragged away. Security pulling, staff shouting, fans screaming
in confusion and rage. Cameras had captured everything. The truth was already spilling into
the world like blood from a wound. And nothing could stop it. Backstage. Chaos was a living
thing. Managers barked orders. Staff scrambled. Phones rang endlessly with executives screaming
from every corner of the company. The members were shoved into a narrow room. The door slammed shut
behind them. The air was suffocating with sweat, fear, and adrenaline. Felix’s chest heaved, sweat
dripping down his temples, his eyes still blazing. “We did it!” he whispered, half in disbelief,
half in triumph. “We actually did it!” Hyanjin collapsed into a chair, his body trembling, his
long hair clung to his damp skin, his eyes wild. “We just destroyed everything,” he muttered, his
voice cracking between horror and relief. Han let out a sharp, hysterical laugh, throwing his head
back. “Destroyed? No!” Hyanjun, we liberated. “Don’t you get it? They can’t shut us up anymore.
The whole damn world hurt us.” But Sunung wasn’t laughing. He was pacing, his fists clenched, his
voice razor sharp. And what happens when the world decides we’re liars? When the company spins the
narrative and paints us as traitors? When the fans turn on us because they can’t stand to lose
their fantasy? I’s voice cut through, steady and fierce. Then let them. I’d rather be hated for
telling the truth than loved for living a lie. The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn’t
empty. It pulsed with raw, conflicting emotions. They were breaking apart and holding together
all at once. Then the door opened. JP entered, flanked by stone-faced security. His smile was
gone. His eyes burned with controlled fury. He stepped forward slowly like a predator circling
prey. “You think you’ve won,” he said quietly, his voice trembling with rage beneath the calm veneer.
“But all you’ve done is dig your own graves. Do you understand the contracts you signed? Do you
understand how easily I can make you disappear?” Felix stepped forward, his body vibrating with
defiance. Do it. Destroy me. Destroy all of us. At least then well die as ourselves, not
as your slaves. JP’s eyes flicked to Hyanjin, and his voice softened dangerously. And you, the
boy with the pretty hair and the pretty face. Do you know what happens to stars who shine too
brightly? They burn out. I was protecting you. I was shaping you. Without me, you’re nothing
but a scandal waiting to happen. Hyanjuns hands shook, but he stood, his voice rising with
fury he’d buried for years. You didn’t protect me. You broke me. You made me believe I was worthless
unless I obeyed. You tried to cut me down until there was nothing left. But you failed. I’m still
here, and I’ll never let you touch me again. The room was electric. Staff outside the door shifted
uncomfortably, listening. JP’s mask cracked. His voice dropped to a growl. ungrateful children. You
think the world cares about your suffering? The world only cares about the product and you’ve
just made yourselves defective. Hans snapped, shoving past Felix to get right in JP’s face. Then
watch what happens when the defective products start telling the truth. Watch the empire you
built rot from the inside out. For a heartbeat, no one breathed. And then the door burst open again.
A flood of reporters stormed in. Cameras flashing, microphones shoved forward, shouting questions.
Staff tried to block them, but it was too late. The story had already exploded. Is it true you’re
accusing JYPp Entertainment of abuse? Hyanjin, did they force you to cut your hair as punishment?
Felix, are you in a relationship with Yanjin? Are you leaving the group? Is this the end? The
questions flew like bullets. The boys froze, their chests heaving, their faces caught in
the blinding light of cameras. And then Felix did the unthinkable. He reached for Hunin’s
hand, intertwining their fingers in front of the entire world. His voice shook, but it was
clear. Yes, I love him. And no one, no company, no man will ever take that away from me. The
room exploded. Reporters screamed louder. Staff shrieked. Managers pulled at their arms.
But Felix and Hyanjin didn’t let go. Hyanjin’s tears spilled freely, his voice breaking,
but stronger than it had ever been. And yes, they tried to break us. They tried to erase who we
are. But we’re done being silent. If it ends our careers, so be it. At least the truth is finally
out. The world was watching, the fans outside, the industry, everyone. This wasn’t a scandal
anymore. It was a revolution. JYPp’s face twisted in fury. But for the first time, he had no words,
no threats, no control. The narrative had slipped from his hands. The empire was bleeding. The boys
stood together in the storm, terrified, trembling, but unbroken. Felix raised their joined hands
higher, his voice trembling through the chaos. We are not property. We are not puppets. We are human
and we are free. The cameras captured everything. The tears, the fury, the love, the defiance. It
would be replayed for years, dissected endlessly. Some would call them reckless. Some would call
them heroes. But no one would ever forget. And in that blinding storm of lights and screams, they
knew one thing with absolute certainty. They had already won. Because they had burned down the
chains. Because they had chosen each other over fear. Because the truth once spoken could never
be silenced again. And as the world watched, as the empire cracked, as the ashes began
to fall, Felix leaned close to Hyanjin, whispering words only he could hear, “We’re free
now. Whatever happens next, we’re free.” Hyanjene closed his eyes, tears streaming, and whispered
back. Then let it all burn. And so it did. The Empire fell. The boys rose. The fire consumed
everything. And from it something unbreakable was
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straykids news today! JYP asks Hyunjin to cut his long hair for a new concept—but Felix’s reaction makes the staff cry!
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