Jiwook stared at the still-off television, sipping a juice box.

It was enough of a habit that his bandmates in 1SH0T never questioned it. They probably just figured he had low blood pressure, which wasn't untrue at this stage. But even so, he was always thankful that the wound in his neck closed up after Yun Seo was done...

...Listening.

He shuddered, though not at the thought of being fed upon. He shuddered at the mismatch between the idea of "listening" and the act of "Listening," capitalization being the only on-paper difference between the two in English. One was acknowledging, hearing, and empathizing. The other was intensive, invasive, and painful - that is, of course, if you weren't ready for it.

There was no "high" associated with being a Voice - the polite term Listeners used to refer to feeders. Jiwook assumed that there were some people who got pleasure from the act, but Jiwook was personally more neutral on being a Voice. What he liked about it was not the actual mechanics of it, but instead what it gave others.

He rubbed his neck where the wound had been, and sighed. He wondered if there were more clues in his memories, and if Yun Seo could make use of them.

"Are you okay?" a gentle voice asked him.

Jiwook looked up. Cheolsu was standing there, his eyes warm with concern. His hair was dyed a much more natural-looking brown, adding dimension to his otherwise black hair. His pajama shirt and pants were loose-fitting, but Jiwook could still see his lithe figure.

Jiwook's heart fluttered, which slowed his answer. "I...I'm fine."

Cheolsu tilted his head. "You're not. You want to help find her."

Jiwook sighed gently. "You read me like a book."

"Of course I do. I've known you for ten years." Cheolsu smiled and sat down next to Jiwook on the couch. Jiwook was always struck by how flawless the man's copper skin was. "I know you want to help her."

"She's my best friend. More than that...she's family." The scar in Jiwook's ribs burned. "I would die for her."

"I get it. I'd die for her, too." Cheolsu's posture was relaxed, but his fingers gripped the cushion as he said that.

Jiwook stared forward absently - partly because of the proximity to Cheolsu's exposed collarbones, which made his heart race, but mostly because he was still processing so much about the last several days.

The two shared the silence.

"Do you think she's okay?" Jiwook asked, finally.

Cheolsu looked at Jiwook grimly. "No, I don't think she is."

"What makes you say that?"

The copper-skinned man stretched to relieve the tension in his neck, inadvertently reminding Jiwook of the tension in his own. "If there had been an emergency, she would have told us," Cheolsu said. "If there had been a medical emergency, we would have been notified since we're her emergency contacts. And if her family had found her..."

"Hell would have broken loose," Jiwook said.

"Exactly. Speaking of...have you reached out to her sister, yet?"

Seojin talked a lot about Haru, at least when no one was looking. Only Cheolsu, Jiwook, and the higher-ups at the company knew anything about Seojin's story. Jiwook figured that Yun Seo did too, what with being a Listener and all, but he hadn't pried - that would come later. But Seojin had told them about the vile people her parents were, and how, for many years, her sister was the only light in her life.

"She never gave me her number," Jiwook said. "So I don't have a way to contact her."

Cheolsu looked forward pensively. "If she sees the news, she'll probably contact the police."

"I don't know if she will."

Jiwook's words cut through the air like a knife, and from the look on Cheolsu's face, he knew that there was understanding. Haru, most likely, wouldn't be able to contact them, at least not without her parents being involved. Moreover, from what Seojin used to say about her, Haru was a mature and independent kid. Bringing their abusers into a national scandal was going to make things even more complicated for her.

Jiwook sighed. "If she contacts us, we can be a safe place for her. But we need to take her lead on this."

"Are you sure about leaving that in the hands of a teenager?"

"No. I am sure about leaving it in the hands of Seojin's sister, though."

"I suppose that makes sense." Cheolsu looked into Jiwook's eyes, his burnt amber gaze piercing into Jiwook. "What are you going to do, Ji?"

Jiwook's heart skipped at that, but he tried to stay composed, even as heat rose to his cheeks. "...I'm going to find my friend," he said.

Cheolsu nodded. "Okay. Then I will help you."

"What?"

"I will help you," Cheolsu said again. "I don't know how to help, yet. But I will."

There was a long silence. Jiwook wanted to tell him no, run, run from Seojin's disappearance. Run. Run. Run.

But his face betrayed him. His lips betrayed him.

Jiwook smiled. "Thank you," he said wistfully.

"Always." Cheolsu smiled. "Now, why don't we see what we can find among Seojin's things?"

"We can't break into her apartment, dongsaeng."

"No, but we can break into her recording studio." Cheolsu patted Jiwook's arm. "Let's start small, Ji-ya."

Security at Cosmic Records hadn't even arrived when the members of 1SH0T entered, but Jiwook made everyone swipe their IDs anyway.

"UGH! Why can't you just do it?!" Namil, the group's maknae, asked.

Jiwook rolled his eyes at the vocalist. "Because someone kidnapped our coworker, so we need to make sure that all our movements are accounted for."

Namil narrowed his eyes at his senior, but didn't argue, simply swiping his ID. The others followed suit, and they made their way to their studio.

The main studio for 1SH0T was on the same floor as the admin offices and conference rooms. Normally, that would probably disturb administrators, but Jiwook had noticed that the administrators enjoyed showing off their idols hard at work. It explained the glass doors on the producer side of the upper-floor studios, at least - privacy only mattered as long as investors weren't walking by.

Jiwook started his bandmates on vocal warm-ups. It kept everyone busy, as each of them had a different set they did. Jiwook and Namil were both in the tenor range, Cheolsu and Minwoo were on the higher edge of tenors, and Juntae was a rapper who was in the baritone range. It didn't make sense for them all to be doing the same exercises.

More importantly, it gave Jiwook a chance to sneak out when Cheolsu graciously decided to cause a distraction and help him out. "Nam-i, you need to put more of a growl in it when you say 'rebel', this is a mature concept."

"I'm doing that, Cheolsu-hyung!" Namil groaned.

"No worries, let me help you." Cheolsu began walking Namil through the words as Jiwook slinked out of the room and closed the door.

Seojin's studio was, conveniently, right next door. She had also, conveniently, given him the passcode for the room, since she was liable to work for hours on end without coming up for air. Jiwook was fully aware that putting in the passcode would bring scrutiny to him, but Jiwook had a habit of lending out his songbooks to Seojin anyway, so that would be the excuse.

Jiwook input the passcode - 8153. The light turned green, and he heard the knob click. He thanked the cosmic forces at play that the building security hadn't changed the passcode on him.

The room was much the same as it had been the day Seojin went missing. The studio was covered in notepads, sticky notes, pens of every color. Concept ideas covered the walls - not sketches, she was never so inclined, but cutouts from magazines, random photos, Polaroids from her camera. She even had a picture of Jiwook up on her idea board - specifically, her with the members of 1SH0T, out for drinks a few weeks ago.

Jiwook swallowed. Despite everything around him in this moment, all of the pieces of Seojin he could see, it all felt hollow.

He stepped past the threshold and began to sort.

The pile of songbooks haphazardly thrown in the corner did contain Jiwook's piano book, so that was one mystery solved. He flipped through it to see if any messages were left for him, but there weren't. It seemed that the text was the only written note he had been provided. That was fine, since it at least put him in contact with Yun Seo.

He continued his search. "Why do you own so many phone chargers?!" Jiwook demanded of the empty room. The snare created by Seojin's phone chargers mocked him from the corner of her desk. Jiwook made an executive decision not to search through the snare, lest he get entangled in it himself.

Jiwook searched under the desk. No notes written on the underside, no strange dents, no debris tossed around the room. He did find himself encountering a shocking number of HDMI cords, considering the fact that Seojin didn't usually bring her camera to the studio.

Jiwook turned his attention to the filing cabinet. Nothing in there of note, just office supplies like scissors and staplers. In the next drawer, there was some basic recording equipment, and to his abject horror, more cords.

"For the love of God," Jiwook grumbled. He loved Seojin, but her chaos was unfortunately meticulous. Nothing on the walls or in her drawers gave any indication as to her whereabouts. She didn't even have a photo of Yun Seo - even one of those classic "my boyfriend is shy so he's covering his face" photos.

If he didn't know better, he would have assumed she was just another victim.

But she wasn't just another victim. This was Ha Seojin, his best friend, and he was going to move Heaven, Hell, and everything in between to find her.

As Jiwook turned around to leave, he saw it. A glint of black, right by the doorstop.

Jiwook walked forward slowly and examined it more closely.

Wrapped around the doorstop was a string of black obsidian beads.

Jiwook knew Seojin had matching bracelets with Haru. She never took the bracelet off. The few times she had to, she simply moved the elastic band to her ankle. The only time he'd ever seen Seojin cry was when it broke, and she, Jiwook, and Cheolsu spent four hours hunting for all the beads in a field they'd been shooting in that day. Cheolsu had bought her new elastic and instructed her to replace the elastic on the bands every few months. She had done so relentlessly.

And yet.

Here it was.

Wrapped around the doorstop.

Jiwook immediately fell to his knees and removed it gingerly. It had been cut and tied off on both sides. He counted the beads like they were a rosary.

"...there's supposed to be 25..." Jiwook whispered to himself.

He started scouring the floor. He searched every corner and cabinet. He looked between every cushion and cord.

The black bead had vanished into thin air.

Defeated, Jiwook sat on the floor, holding the beads in his hand. They stared up at him like eyes.

"What happened to you?"