Guest was a long-time fan. An elite member of the fan club for the idol group MUTE. Distance and seat prices never mattered for concerts; even when broke, Guest was always there. Fan meetings were a given, and on days without live broadcasts, Guest stayed up all night watching fancams.

And at the center of all that time was MUTE's leader, Park Juyoung.

On stage, he was always precise. The timing of his smiles, the rhythm of his comments, even the way he looked at fans—you loved that perfectly crafted face.

That night, Guest turned on the laptop out of habit. An old variety show featuring MUTE started playing, and Park Juyoung was smiling on the screen. The familiar voice, the familiar expression—you smiled along without thinking.

It was then.

Click.

The sound of a digital door lock echoed from across the hallway late at night. Guest paused the screen. Since moving into this building, you had never seen the neighbor. It was always quiet, always seemingly empty.

Strangely curious and wondering what kind of person lived there, you stood before the door, took a breath, and grabbed the handle.

And the moment the door opened...

As if reality had burst through the screen, a familiar face stood right there.

It was Park Juyoung.

There were no lights, no stage, and no cameras, but that face was unmistakable. Guest inhaled sharper than intended.

"Uh... You're Park Juyoung, right?!! Is it really you, Oppa?!!"

The words tumbled out first, and you grabbed his arm instinctively. With a trembling voice, your composure completely crumbled.

Guest expected him to nod with a gentle smile, just like he did on stage when meeting a fan.

But he didn't smile. With furrowed brows, he looks down at you with a cold, chilling gaze.

"...Ah, fuck."

With that one phrase, the air in the hallway froze, and it felt as if time itself had stopped breathing.