Even after deciding to disband, the team was called in several more times. There was a final settlement to complete, documents to sign. News that the draft press release had been finished sounded like somebody else’s story.

For a group that was already over, there was still an absurd amount left to do. To Choi Jeho, all of it felt like a farce.

Nobody looked happy while listening to explanations and signing papers. Though maybe “nobody” wasn’t quite right. Since the day the disbandment had been finalized, there had been one member they hadn’t heard from at all.

Jeong Seongbin had brought the absent member’s seal himself. Non-disclosure agreement, confidentiality agreement—whatever it was called. His hand shook visibly as he stamped documents promising not to reveal company matters to outsiders.

Once the employee left to retrieve the company seal, silence settled over the meeting room. Beyond the glass walls, the sound of a copy machine from the office became the only noise.

“Hyung, are you still in contact with Juu hyung?”

Kang Giyeon asked Jeong Seongbin.

“Yeah. Not often. Sometimes.”

Ever since the company had informed them they needed to decide whether or not to renew their contracts, Park Juu had seemed mentally absent. The company kept telling them to stay composed because the fans were getting anxious, but what were they supposed to do when they couldn’t stay composed?

Park Juu had stayed tense the entire time before finally being forced to accept the disbandment. After that, he locked himself away and stopped coming out. Apparently he only answered Jeong Seongbin occasionally.

“How’s Juu hyung doing?”

“He’s a lot better.”

Jeong Seongbin smiled bitterly. Kang Giyeon frowned.

He looked like he wanted to say something, then stopped himself. Jeong Seongbin had always been terrible at lying—bad enough for the members to spot it instantly. He’d kept telling those clumsy lies over and over.

Right up until today, the very last day.

Kang Giyeon, who normally argued over every little thing he disliked, stayed completely silent. At some point, his attitude had grown lukewarm outside of work. Jeong Seongbin probably knew too.

Kang Giyeon had given up on him.

“Well... should we at least grab a meal together before we split up? Probably won’t see each other much for a while.”

Kang Giyeon picked up his phone as he spoke. Lee Cheonghyeon scoffed.

“Why bother? How many times have we ever eaten together privately anyway?”

His sharp gaze turned toward Choi Jeho.

“Did we ever go drinking together after company dinners? Did we ever join each other’s family gatherings? Are we suddenly the kind of people who comfort each other and say ‘good work’ now?”

“Enough. That’s not really how you feel.”

“It’s not only how I feel, but it’s still true. Am I wrong?”

Kang Giyeon gave up trying to stop him. As if provoked by the sound of the sigh, Lee Cheonghyeon snapped again.

“Did you even try contacting Juu hyung?”

“......”

He hadn’t.

Because what Park Juu wanted was the group itself, not some pathetic scraps of encouragement. The only solution would have been not disbanding at all, but even if they went back to before the decision was made, everyone would still make the same choice in the end.

None of them knew how, where, or what they could possibly do to repair a relationship that had already cracked apart.

“I’m not asking you to fake concern you don’t have. But you should at least have some basic compassion.”

“......”

For several nights before the final cleanup day, Choi Jeho stayed awake late into the night. He spent hours mechanically scrolling through his phone.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t looked at Park Juu’s contact.

He just had nothing he could do for him.

That fact left Choi Jeho feeling hollow.

“If you count trainee years too, we lived closer than family for over ten years. And you still feel nothing?”

As if he could feel nothing.

Even so, Choi Jeho said nothing. Nothing would change no matter what excuses he made.

After gathering the returned documents, Choi Jeho stood first. Jeong Seongbin quickly rose and stopped him.

“Hyung.”

Choi Jeho looked down quietly at him. He’d never really scolded him harshly, but at some point Jeong Seongbin had started acting timid all the time.

Was it because of his throat injury?

At first, Choi Jeho had worried but not feared the worst. True to his diligent nature, Jeong Seongbin never neglected his care and always fulfilled his role properly on stage. People endlessly talked trash about him going to the military without consulting anyone first, but Choi Jeho had only thought it was the kind of thing the person involved should handle himself. That was why he’d never added his own opinion.

Then Choi Jeho injured his back himself.

Only then did he finally understand Jeong Seongbin’s position.

It wasn’t a matter of whether you could still perform adequately or not. Injury itself turned every single day into a desperate struggle.

He realized that far too late.

“Please... at least once, contact Juu.”

Jeong Seongbin’s voice trembled.

“If you contact him, hyung... he’ll be happy.”

Choi Jeho didn’t really agree. Even Jeong Seongbin was only guessing at Park Juu’s feelings. Choi Jeho knew better than anyone that he hadn’t been a good member to Park Juu—or to any of them.

“...Okay.”

Still, he told him he understood.

That was all he could do for Jeong Seongbin.

Before Choi Jeho could reach for the door handle, someone else stretched out an arm first.

Lee Cheonghyeon.

After opening the door, Lee Cheonghyeon glared at Choi Jeho before looking away first.

“That motorcycle downstairs is yours, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You planning to never dance again?”

Whenever Lee Cheonghyeon held back anger, blue veins stood out along his throat.

Just like now.

“Get rid of it. Stop doing insane shit.”

The door Lee Cheonghyeon shoved open swung back and forth after he left. Reflected faintly in the glass was Kang Giyeon, still seated at the table.

He was crying behind a white document envelope held over his face.

By the time the procedures were over and Choi Jeho stepped outside, the world had gone completely dark. The sky was cloudy enough that not even a single star could be seen.

Pulling on his helmet, Choi Jeho rode for a long time. The wind didn’t feel cold at all. It was as if his senses had dulled beyond numbness and disappeared entirely. His grip tightened around the handlebars.

Back when he could still dance, he’d never even looked at motorcycles like this.

Because one accident and it was all over.

Even now, everything still felt unreal. Like if he just took off his helmet, he’d return to a concert hall filled with roaring cheers.

But Choi Jeho had personally put an end to everything with his own hands.

Just now. Right in front of everyone.

Nobody had asked to stay together any longer.

That was Choi Jeho’s reality.

He parked the motorcycle in a designated area near the river. Streetlights reflected across the water. Since there was no wind, the surface remained calm. Only after collapsing down beside the motorcycle did it finally feel like he was alone.

Had Jeong Seongbin gotten home yet?

Was Park Juu already asleep by now?

His hair blew across his eyes in the breeze. But more than that, the image of Kang Giyeon crying wouldn’t leave his head.

‘You planning to never dance again?’

Lee Cheonghyeon’s voice echoed in his ears.

≫ If Choi Jeho loses dance, he’s basically finished

└ Huh? He’d still make bank doing photoshoots lol

≫ Crazy how someone can fail this badly at being a person

└ I mean, Spark still did pretty well though?

└ The problem is Choi Jeho only managed Spark

└ If he’d gone to a major company instead of X소 he wouldn’t have ended up in some underground prison lol he couldn’t control his personality and went there to play king around younger kidsㅋㅋㅋ who’s he blaming

≫ If not for the injury, he probably would’ve transferred agencies first, right?

└ Yeah, no doubt he got tons of offers

└ But why hasn’t there been any transfer news about these guys...? Usually when contracts are about to expire you hear they’re “in discussion” or something. Doesn’t seem like they’re re-signing either

└ Probably under embargo

└ Who cares enough about washed-up idols to put them under embargoㅋㅋㅋ

└ No matter how much you call them washed up, Spark isn’t disbanding because they failed~ they’re the ones leaving

└└ That’s what pisses me off more

If he’d climbed onto the gambling table willingly, at least there would’ve been something to resent.

But Choi Jeho had spent his entire life never recklessly betting anything.

And still, in a single instant, he lost everything.

When emptiness exceeded a certain limit, it became pain. Because there was nothing left, Choi Jeho suffered viciously.

Once the disbandment articles went up...

Once the sasaengs and reporters who only cared about him as an active idol lost interest and disappeared...

Once the messaging service shut down and the fanclub vanished...

There truly would be nothing left.

The opposite side of the river glowed brightly. Light spilling from high-rise buildings glittered like stars. Only the place where Choi Jeho sat remained low and dark.

Like the ground where he used to sit catching his breath after shooting hoops alone near the dorm, the surface beneath him was cold and hard.

When he bent forward, a lighter rolled from his pocket. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

It was the flint lighter a manager—constantly criticized for his attitude—had left behind in the car.

Under normal circumstances, Choi Jeho would’ve thrown it away immediately. Instead, he’d secretly slipped it into his pocket.

Then he went to a convenience store.

Planning to ask for any random pack of cigarettes.

But after reaching the door, Choi Jeho ultimately turned around.

If he couldn’t dance anymore, then at least he needed to keep singing. That was the only remaining way for Choi Jeho to maintain any kind of lifespan as an idol.

And now even that no longer mattered.

Choi Jeho gripped the lighter in his hand. The small amount of gas left inside sloshed faintly. He tried to spark it, but the wheel only spun uselessly without igniting.

Would things have changed if he’d swallowed his disgust and drank together with them?

Should he have forced everyone to sit down and talk instead of giving up beforehand because they’d inevitably fight the moment they opened their mouths?

Was this really how Spark was supposed to end?

Should he have at least asked once whether they truly wanted to disband?

Slowly, Choi Jeho covered his face with both hands. Dry fingertips dragged down over his face. The breath he exhaled spread into the air like a sigh.

Like having nowhere to say what was in his heart.

Like being left completely alone with nobody left to visit.

Like knowing the fault was too much his own to hide behind excuses, and feeling miserable because of it.

Emotion crashed over him. The sound of leaves brushing together swept across the riverside in the wind.

Choi Jeho forcefully shoved down the surge rising in his chest. He held it in so tightly not even a sigh escaped him.

At least for someone like Choi Jeho, the right to cry would never be granted.

The thing he had avoided for so long.

The thing Choi Jeho should have let go of long ago, yet kept pretending not to see.

It was time to accept loneliness.