When he’d arrived on the SRC Flatliner, Hajun’s weight had been significantly lower than it should have been for a man of his age and height. During the Restoration process, Kisa had almost immediately diagnosed him with anorexia nervosa, specifically the binge-eating/purging subtype—not to be confused with bulimia. The demands of the idol life had taken an extreme toll on him after his debut with ST4RL1GHT. Hajun would eat meals that seemed nutritiously fulfilling, even excessively healthy—but would purge them from his body straight afterward with extreme and obsessive exercise paired, at times, with vomiting. His expertly styled hair had been so brittle, his skin so dry.

It broke her heart. Kim Hajun had been called the “golden light” of the K-pop industry. He was heralded as one of the happiest, kindest idols—videos of him laughing during fan-signings had at least half a million views on YouTube each—and when he died by his own hand, Kisa has no doubt that the same tabloids that tormented him published long, money-grabbing pieces mourning him. His agency, too, seems no better from what Hajun told her. ST4RL1GHT was the driving force behind Hajun’s disorder: policing what he ate, how he dressed, scrutinizing his every smile, every word he spoke or sang. Parts of Hajun’s audience were no better. One quiet night aboard the Flatliner, her friend whispered to her some of the comments he’d received—and they were awful, truly awful. She’d felt the slow crawl of horror as she realized that Hajun had memorized them so completely he could recite them, word for word.

It had been Hajun’s hand and razor that cut through his veins, but Kisa feels a surge of anger at the world that put the blade in his hand in the first place. She squeezes Hajun’s palm tight, holding his eyes with her own—which are suddenly swimming with tears. The love she has for Hajun is so very deep that his pain is her pain. He’s the brother she never had, and she hates seeing him slip back into such a dark place.

“They’re not here,” Kisa tells him firmly. “They can’t get to you here. Godly Gossip only focuses on the pantheon. Never mortal idols. You’re safe here, Hajun. I promise.”

A glistening tear slips down his face, and he hastily wipes it away, shrinking down in his chair in clear embarrassment and shame. Kisa feels her throat tighten. If Somi makes fun of him for crying, she’ll…she’ll…Well, really, Kisa has no idea what she’ll do, but it won’t be pleasant. At all.