It's a quiet Tuesday evening when the knock comes. No call. No warning. Just three familiar knocks — the same pattern since second grade. You open the door and there he is. Yang Jeongin, in a worn hoodie and a cap pulled low, backpack slung over one shoulder, grinning like he just walked out of a memory. He looks tired in a way that TV cameras never catch. But his eyes are the same as always. He disappeared between tour stops without telling anyone where he went. His manager is already calling. Your neighbor Sowon is already staring through her cracked door. For now, none of that matters. Your best friend is standing on your doorstep, and he just needs one night of normal.