Damien paused just outside of the glass doors of the company building.
It had been a few days since that locker room incident, but the memory still clung to him. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his cap a little lower and adjusted the mask covering half of his face. He ducked his head reflexively, avoiding the eyes of the staff and trainees passing by.
As he stepped through the doors, his heart pounded against his chest—half from anxiety, half from the flood of memories that hit him. Kian's face flashed through his mind—his dark eyes wide with worry, his strong arms pulling the younger into an embrace that stabilized him.
Damien's cheeks heated from shame and embarrassment. He still couldn't believe he had broken down so completely. He hadn't lost control like that since he was Skye.
No. Don't think about those days... And stop thinking about the stupid locker room!
He quickened his pace across the lobby, as if he could outrun the memories.
But the memories came anyway.
That day in the locker room, Damien had been overwhelmed by such a crushing wave of rage. He fought against it, nails scraping at the cold floor, desperate not to lash out in fear of ruining his plans (and possibly getting involved in a murder scene).
A voice cut through the haze.
"Damien! Damien, look at me!"
Kian's voice was urgent. In the chaos that was Damien's mind, he dimly registered Kian kneeling in front of him. A warm hand cupped the side of his face firmly, forcing him to stare ahead.
"Breathe. It's okay, you're safe. Just breathe with me."
The raven-haired boy wrapped one of his arms around Damien's trembling shoulders to keep him steady.
Damien's surroundings had spun in and out of focus. He remembered the surprisingly clean scent Kian carried even after training, and the way Kian had wrapped him up in a tight hug. Damien's chin rested on top of Kian's shoulder as he leaned into him.
"You're okay.. You're okay..." Kian murmured over and over, one hand patting Damien's back softly.
In that blur, another figure hovered nearby. Yejun's voice had been higher-pitched with alarm.
"Is he having an attack? What should we do—call someone? Kian, is he okay?"
At the time, he only caught Yejun's worried face pale with fear. He also vaguely felt Yejun draping a jacket over Damien's shoulders.
During the chaos, Damien heard a ding—a familiar robotic chime.
[Ding! Dangerous Levels Of Instability]
[Alert!: Host Destabilizing]
[The Fixing System (110) Administering Emergency Aid]
[Temporary Removal of Skill Lock: Unshakable Resolve]
The words had been accompanied by a cool and calming sensation washing through him. It felt like a bucket of icy water thrown over raging flames. In that critical moment, the system panicked just as much as Kian did. It overrode its usual restrictions to activate one of Damien's locked skills.
[Ding! Host Stabilizing]
[...]
[Ding! Mental Stabilization Achieved]
Gradually, the haze receded and Damien's reason began come back. The world came into focus: the cool tiles of the locker room floor, the metallic tang of blood where he'd bitten his lip, the firm solidity of Kian holding him, and Yejun's hand gripping his arm to anchor him.
Damien's once ragged breaths and gasps evened out.
And his hollow eyes finally regained their lustre.
He had blinked up in confusion, finding himself half-encircled in Kian's arms on the floor. The relief in his eyes when Damien finally focused on him was clear.
Yejun knelt on Damien's other side, holding out a water bottle with a trembling grip.
"Drink slowly, Damien," Yejun urged softly. "You... You really scared us."
What happened?
Kian...? Yejun...? When had those two become so close?
Damien recalled his wonder, noticing how naturally both Kian and Yejun worked in tandem to help him. Kian must have summoned Yejun the moment he knew something was wrong. Had he been so wrapped up in his own troubles—and his obsession with catching Hajoon—that he'd missed the growing camaraderie between these two? Apparently so.
They were there too when I was at the hospital... Maybe it was ever since then...
The flashback to his momentary weakness made him cringe as he walked toward the company elevators. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
He really should have thanked them. But ever since then, he hadn't been able to face either of them properly. After all, how was he supposed to look him in the eye after they witnessed him broken and trembling like that? After Kian had literally cradled him through a breakdown he couldn't control. Hell, not even Lukas or even his own mother had seen him like that.
"F*ck... How embarrassing..." He murmured to himself. "Sometime soon, I'll thank them properly. Just... not yet."
A heavy sigh escaped him.
Complicated thoughts swirled in his mind, but he pushed them down. Right now, he had something important to deal with—a meeting with the training department. It was a discussion about his training regimen going forward.
When Damien entered the small conference room, a single staff member awaited him. Choi Hana, one of Starlite Media's training development coordinators sat down, papers in hand.
After his collapse during evaluations and underwhelming performance, it came as no surprise when she handed him a revised schedule.
While he'd continue with advanced songwriting and producing, he'd be moved to beginner-level dance and vocal classes conditioning to help him recover at a sustainable pace. It wasn't framed as a punishment—more of a precaution—but the shift still stung.
Being pulled from the usual classes meant seeing Kian and Yejun less, and though part of him was relieved to avoid their concerned stares, another part ached at the quiet sense of being left behind. Still, he nodded and accepted it without protest, knowing it was the only way forward.
Ms. Choi's shoulders eased as if she expected more resistance. "We'll review your progress in a few weeks and adjust as needed. For today, you're excused from training. The new schedule will be posted on the app as well."
"Yes, ma'am," Damien replied. "Thank you..."
...
After his meeting, he quickly left the building and headed home.
He decided to finally do the thing he had to put off—sort the evidence gathered.
Therefore, Damien sat cross-legged on his chair, staring at the array of items on his desk. In front of him was his computer, a USB drive, printed screenshots, and a notebook filled with his scrawled notes.
Above the table, a translucent screen hovered in mid-air—the system interface. Lines of text and video thumbnails glowed faintly, projecting the compiled data.
He chewed the inside of his cheek, green eyes flitting from one piece of evidence to another. After the locker room confrontation and his collapse, he had been too drained—physically and mentally—to immediately sift through everything the system had collected. He'd shoved it to the back of his mind while he recovered.
But now that he was thinking clearly again, it was time.
"Alright... let's see what we have."
He reached and picked up the USB drive, rolling it between his fingers. It contained security camera footage the system had pulled from the company's internal network. Damien had quietly ordered the system to obtain it a long time ago when he found out that his bottle had been laced.
Being linked to a system certainly had its advantages—hacking into CCTV feeds was child's play for it.
He slotted the drive into his laptop and opened the video file. Although Damien didn't see anything incriminating, he saw something interesting the day he Hajoon decided to visit him late at night.
After Hajoon had left the practice room that day, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hands. It was the same handkerchief that Damien saw when he rummaged through Hajoon's locker. And it had been delicately wrapped around a plastic bag.
Knowing what he knew, the substance that he wiped off was probably the rut inducer. Didn't that mean that as long as Damien got this handkerchief, he'd have physical evidence tying Hajoon down to a crime?
"But... Are rut inducers easy to wash off?"
System: [Answering the host, rut inducers are very difficult to wash off. Washing only removes the surface residue, but the compound—like how it seeps into a person's system—seeps deep into fabric. So, if you acquired the fabric. It will highly likely be tested positive for the compound.]
Damien stayed silent for a few moments.
Why had Hajoon kept it in the locker? Perhaps he was trying to find a place to throw it away? Not like he could wash it off at home since the substance would coat everything.
Maybe he was just arrogant.
"But whatever the reason might be, its still a pretty lucky find... Now I just have to sneak back in there again."
He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly to keep his cool.
"What about your other findings?"
System: [I'll compile them to make it easier for the host to browse.]
[Loading Files…]
» Unauthorized Substance Possession
﹄ lab test of water bottle
﹄ rut inducer information
﹄ CCTV footage file
» Sabotage of Other Fellow Trainees
﹄ witness accounts
﹄ incident reports and others
» Leaks of Private Schedules and Info to Outside Parties
﹄ incident reports and others
﹄ past victims list
Damien's eyes skimmed each line, his heart sinking further with each point. Seeing all the evidence compiled like this was shocking.
It was a quite the damning dossier.
He clicked on the file labeled "Sabotage of Other Fellow Trainees." It was a list of incidents over the last few years within the company's trainee pool. As he read through them, a chill slithered down his spine. The incidents were dismissed as accidents or personal mistakes.
One trainee's heels suddenly snap, causing her to fall. After this incident, she had never been able to recover her record, slowly underperforming until she was let go by the company. Another trainee had mysteriously sprained his ankle a day before the the evaluations. He had submitted his own resignation out of his own volition right after.
At the time, these things were chalked up to bad luck, carelessness, laziness, or the trainee pushing themselves too hard.
But now the pattern was obvious.
The trainees affected were al promising talents, ones who could have become serious competition for others—especially for someone as fiercely competitive as Hajoon. And every single time, Hajoon had been around, offering a sympathetic smile or a helping hand to the victim in the aftermath.
Bastard...
His stomach churned.
Hajoon would hurt them from the shadows, then play the concerned friend while they crumbled. It made Damien feel sick.
Next, he clicked the last folder and his gaze fell to the list of names of the victims. There, he found an unexpected name.
Li Xingyuan?
Damien's eyes widened and he immediately straightened up.
He clicked on the name, bringing up a specific incident report. About a year ago, there had been a company scandal where a sasaeng fan had somehow gotten hold of private photos of Li Xingyuan leaving a therapist's office—personal, sensitive information which had somehow circulated around Starlite Media.
Li Xingyuan, proud and hot-tempered, had nearly quit over that breach of privacy. Higher ups thought that it had been an internal leak due to a staff member or a hacker.
But here in front of him were transcripts of an online chat between two anonymous users. The timestamp was just days before the event happened. The anonymous user had fed the fan details of Li Xingyuan's schedule.
The system had already done the work of tracing the two anonymous accounts, linking it to two emails—one an email to a sasaeng fan account, the other a dummy email which ultimately led back to an IP address frequented by Choi Hajoon.
Damien frowned, brows furrowing. He couldn't believe that even Li Xingyuan was affected.
When the system had mentioned Li Xingyuan's problem with stalkers and how they showed up to his location without fail, he had found it odd. How could they know his every move? Now he finally found out why that was the case.
It was nearly certain that Hajoon had been the "anonymous" tipster who led obsessive fans right to Li Xingyuan, violating his privacy and deteriorating his mental wellbeing in the process. Luckily, Li Xingyuan's mental fortitude was high, or else he would've quit already.
"Hah..."
He set the laptop aside and dismissed the interface, rubbing his temples right after.
This made question why this serial saboteur had yet to be caught. Was it due to his white lotus* halo? To the company and most fellow trainees, Hajoon appeared nothing short of ideal—a charming, dependable sunbae who trained diligently and encouraged others. Few would ever think to suspect him. Besides, many of the names on the system's compiled list of victims had either left voluntarily or been dismissed due to stagnating progress.
The pattern, subtle as it was, helped keep him hidden. Hajoon worked slowly—undermining a trainee over the course of several months until their performance declined beyond repair. At most, he caused two or three to drop out per year—a rate that didn't raise suspicion, especially in a system where that kind of turnover was seen as routine.
And really, who would ever suspect a trainee in the first place? Let alone that trainee—the one with a 'spotless' record.
But now, with all of this evidence in hand, power was his.
And since all the data was already stored on his computer, compiling it would be easy—whether he chose to send it electronically or deliver it anonymously.
He pulled out the USB from the computer and held it up.
A cold gleam flickered in his eyes. It was sharp and it was calculated.
"Now... I wonder how I should slip this through to the company?"
...
**White Lotus: A character (usually female) commonly found in Chinese novels. It refers to characters who appear innocent, pure and naive on the outside but uses this reputation to backstab, blame, and sling mud onto others.