I don’t know why I wanted to ask Yur something like that.

I just... felt confused.

No. Was I simply empty?

I didn’t know.

I didn’t know why I still hadn’t jumped.

Why I was sitting here instead.

Yur stayed silent.

As the steam cleared, pale yellow tea slowly revealed itself beneath it.

“That’s a difficult question. Problems are relative, after all. What feels serious to me might seem trivial to you, Mr. Iwol.”

The more famous someone became, the more they became the subject of gossip. If anything, Yur probably had it worse than I did, not better.

“If I had to pick the closest example, I’d say company issues.”

That wasn’t the answer I expected.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“......”

“It’s the same thing. Obviously the environment is better than at a mid-sized agency, or a smaller one. But even considering the advantages, there are still disadvantages you can’t simply overlook.”

The harsh labor conditions and unfair treatment idols endured had been a source of disputes for ages. Things had gradually improved over time, but new forms of exploitation constantly appeared in blind spots throughout the industry.

“There were a lot of toxic clauses in the original contract.”

Yur took a sip of tea as he spoke.

“So I thought about it a lot... but I wanted to keep using the team name, and it looked difficult for all of us to renew together if it wasn’t under MYTH. So I stayed. I chose money and stability.”

Yur was honest.

“Most things improved. Except for a few things. Like if an artist damages the company’s reputation. You could say a new type of restriction appeared.”

“......”

“Things like, ‘They lobbied a program to manipulate rankings and demand favorable editing,’ or ‘They deliberately copied a specific group.’ If comments like that get mentioned publicly and damage the company’s image, they’ll demand responsibility in the form of massive compensation fees. And as for activities not explicitly stated in the contract...”

The moment I heard that, I remembered Polo insisting on meeting me for a meal.

I remembered the look on his face while deliberately leaking stories about MYTH intentionally copying Spark.

I could also guess what Yur had left unsaid.

A company willing to impose fines on purpose would obviously have no problem restricting its artists’ activities too.

“To Chaejun, protecting his conscience matters more than protecting his own comfort. He’s an honest person. So being told to ignore unfair things or take care of juniors he doesn’t even like is humiliating for him.”

Yur laughed quietly.

Polo recklessly sprinting onto a Han River bridge in the middle of the night—despite the possibility of getting dragged into serious trouble—perfectly supported Yur’s words.

“We decided to start our own agency.”

“...What?”

Yur remained calm despite dropping such a shocking statement.

Hellas was MYTH’s flagship group.

Even if their activity frequency had decreased significantly compared to their peak years, the fact that a long established top-tier group could still remain active and produce results every time was proof of Hellas’s position.

There was no team that embodied MYTH’s identity more than Hellas. As successors, Parte had failed to achieve the same level of fame or accomplishments as their seniors.

The symbolic face of an agency—the representative group of an entire generation—leaving an organization fully equipped to support them?

It wasn’t impossible if everyone went their separate ways and only reunited occasionally for group activities, but this kind of case was rare.

“When you renew contracts, the terms usually aren’t set too long. That gives you enough time to prepare without forcing you to wait forever.”

“You’re telling me something like this...?”

“I’m only telling you specially. If it leaks out, you’re the culprit.”

“...What?”

“I’m joking. Industry people already roughly know. It’s a small world—everyone’s connected through somebody. Do you really think an industry that coordinates paparazzi timing and article releases wouldn’t know about this? Though it would still be a problem if someone openly talked about it.”

Yur emptied his teacup before continuing.

“If it looks like there’s no escape route, then all you can do is carve out a new path, right? Since there are several of us, it’ll probably be easier than doing it alone.”

A new path.

Together with the members.

Then someday, if a moment came when I had to choose between Spark and something else—

Would I spend the rest of my life making choices endlessly?

I couldn’t organize my thoughts.

Yur quietly observed me before speaking again.

“I don’t know what kind of situation you’re in, Mr. Iwol, but I hope you don’t think my actions are some ideal answer.”

Perhaps he realized I didn’t immediately understand what he meant, because he added more.

“I have enough money to start a small company. I also have the connections I’ve built over the years, the ability to hire labor attorneys for consultation, and the experience needed to jump directly into the industry ecosystem myself. Most importantly, every member is actively moving toward the same goal.”

“......”

“That’s why I can make ‘any choice.’”

“......”

“On the other hand, if someone’s circumstances narrow the choices available to them, I don’t think that’s something to blame on their own capability. Imagine how painful it must be for a person forced to act within circumstances that leave them no alternative.”

Jeong Seongbin had said something similar before.

That calling the only remaining option a “choice” when someone had already been cornered was cruel.

“There’s one more thing I want to say.”

Yur refilled the empty teacup.

Warmth spread into the hand holding it.

“If the thing you want to run from is a person or a situation, ask the people around you for help. There are plenty of cases where something impossible to solve alone gets resolved quickly once several people work together.”

“......”

“But if what you want to turn your eyes away from is ‘your own choice’...”

Yur’s eyes met mine.

“Then let yourself rest a little. Don’t push yourself so hard.”

“......”

“There’s no such thing as something being completely one person’s fault. I mean you shouldn’t carry everything alone.”

Would that somehow make it not my fault that I erased the possibility of stopping my sister’s accident with my own hands?

Was there really no better choice I could have made?

Wouldn’t I regret that moment for the rest of my life?

It hurt so much.

I wanted to turn back time so badly...

But even if I did return, even if I made a different choice, would my heart actually feel at peace?

‘I just hope hyung doesn’t keep hurting himself more.’

Jeong Seongbin’s words continued floating through my mind.

Yur not only gave me his room, he practically pushed me all the way to the bed.

“Sleep well. Let’s eat leisurely later.”

Then he simply closed the door and left.

At first I wondered why he was going so far to stop me from leaving, but eventually I thought about what I must have looked like when I first stepped into this house.

‘Like someone completely insane.’

I heard Polo had gone home while I was showering. They probably exchanged a rough explanation during that time.

Still, willingly allowing someone else into your home wasn’t easy, so there was no doubt Yur had done me a great kindness.

I awkwardly climbed onto the edge of the bed.

At first I tried not to use the blanket out of politeness, but Yur’s voice telling me to make sure to sleep under the covers echoed in my ears, so in the end I covered myself with it too.

The moment I lay down, depression washed over me.

My entire body felt heavy, like enormous weights had been tied to it.

My head felt numb.

I couldn’t think about anything.

In my dream, a familiar intersection appeared.

The me inside the memory data stood in front of the crosswalk where the accident happened, but the me inside the dream stood on the opposite side.

People had gathered across the street.

Cars tore viciously across the road.

I waited desperately for the signal to change.

I wanted to run across immediately to where my sister was standing.

But until the moment I woke up, the light never turned green.

I had barged into someone else’s house in the middle of the night, yet I slept for hours.

At some point, I vaguely remembered Yur opening the door once. He only adjusted the blanket over me before leaving, and I fell asleep again before I could even wake properly.

I finally woke once sunlight completely filled the room and became blindingly bright.

I hurried out into the living room and found Manager Chanyeong already there.

“Manager, I...”

Ever since joining UA, I could confidently say I had never caused an accident this massive before.

This went beyond leaving without notice. I had stayed out overnight, left my phone behind without contacting anyone once, and on top of that, the place I ran to was a senior artist’s house from another company.

“I’m sorry.”

I had no excuse no matter how many mouths I had, so I apologized first.

I could feel my hands trembling.

“No, you don’t need to apologize.”

But instead of scolding me, the manager pulled me into a tight hug with reddened eyes.

“You came back safe. That’s enough.”

Hearing those words, I realized what had happened.

The events from dawn had already been passed along.

As promised, Yur even cooked a meal for me.

I bowed deeply enough for my waist to form a right angle while apologizing to him for troubling him, and I promised to repay him properly someday.

On the way back, we stopped by the hospital so I could receive counseling.

“Iwol.”

“Yes.”

While waiting at a traffic light, the manager called my name.

“Let’s take a break from activities for a while.”

“......”

“I don’t mean just you. All of us.”

A suffocating silence followed.

If I agreed, I’d be burdening the group.

If I refused, then countless people would end up worrying over me because of my own stubbornness.

“Spark should rest. We’ve never even taken a proper long vacation before. I’m sorry this became something we’re informing you about after the fact, but the internal discussions are already finished.”

It was only eleven in the morning.

The thought that at least an entire quarter’s worth of schedules had been stopped within just two hours left me unable to speak.

UA had always fully respected Spark’s opinions regarding schedules.

The reason they were suddenly being so firm now was probably because they were trying to stop me—the person who had always forced forward anything he decided to do.

“This is an important period...”

My head naturally lowered.

The manager gently patted my hand as my voice trailed off.

“There’s nothing more important than being healthy.”

“......”

“The same goes for the other members. They all went through something shocking too. So I hope you won’t blame yourself.”

Come to think of it, were they okay?

I had been so consumed by my own situation that I forgot something just as important.

When a member gets injured, the leader can’t help but worry because they represent the group.

Park Juu hated seeing people get hurt.

Lee Cheonghyeon was especially attached to the members.

Kang Giyeon needed to be careful because something like that could traumatize him on stage.

And a lighting rig had fallen right beside them.

It was an accident severe enough that it would be strange not to be shaken by it.

As for Choi Jeho...

I vaguely remembered him saying he wasn’t hurt.

I also remembered that after hearing those words, I never actually checked myself.

“If you’re really worried about it, just think of this as time to reorganize. You’ve heard of refresh vacations, right? Let’s think of it as preparation to come back even better.” 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

The manager deliberately used office worker terminology to comfort me.

He probably thought that was the best way to persuade me.

And honestly, he was right.

Up until now, I had always relied on the habits and manuals I developed while working as a company employee.

As a result, the methods others used to persuade me had also become the language of Hanpyeong Industry—the very thing I wanted most to escape from.

Just like the system.

The end result of becoming a person without a self was ending up incapable of accomplishing anything on your own.

Maybe there were still countless things wrong with me that I hadn’t fixed yet.

Just like how I failed to notice my own inability to feel pain or recognize my depression—

Perhaps I simply hadn’t realized them yet.