By the time they got back to the dorm, the video had already leaked.
Haru never uploaded it.
But someone had.
Maybe someone in the shadows who had always known. Maybe someone who had been waiting for the moment to strike.
Either way, it was out now.
Director Park's face. Minju's name. The word cover-up flashing in real-time across social media.
Seojun sat by the window, phone in hand, unreadable.
Riki paced the room. "You're trending. Number one. For real. Not the group. You."
Minhee held a pillow to his chest. "There are news articles. Dispatch. Naver. Even international press."
Shiro was quiet. He had known something had changed the moment Haru walked back in.
And Haru?
Haru stood at the sink, letting cold water run through his hands. His phone vibrated every few seconds.
Minju hovered nearby. Not flickering. Not fading.
Still here.
"I didn't do it for attention," Haru said quietly.
"I know," she replied.
A knock at the door.
Their manager. Pale. Breathless.
"You need to come with me. Now."
The company conference room was packed.
Legal. PR. Board members. The CEO.
Haru sat at one end. Seojun beside him. The rest of Eclipse down the hall, waiting.
The CEO leaned forward, voice low. Controlled.
"We need to get ahead of this. Say you were manipulated. Say it was a deepfake. We can still spin this."
Haru shook his head. "No."
The PR lead stepped in. "You don't understand. This isn't just your career. It's the company's survival. Yours. Your members'. If you push this, you all go down."
Seojun looked at Haru. "Then we go down fighting."
Haru spoke slowly. Clearly. "She didn't get justice. So no, I'm not signing your script. I'm not deleting the video. I'm not apologizing for telling the truth."
The CEO leaned back. "Then you're suspended."
Haru stood. "I'm not staying in a system that kills kids and buries them under songs."
Silence followed.
Then a second voice.
Minhee.
From the hallway.
"You're not going alone."
He stepped in.
Then Shiro.
Then Riki.
Until the entire group stood behind Haru.
Minju floated by the doorway.
Tears in her eyes.
The CEO stared at them all. "You're throwing everything away."
Seojun smiled. "No. We're building something new."
The press caught wind of it in hours.
#JusticeForMinju trended globally.
Other idols—trainees from different labels—began sharing their own horror stories. Quiet, buried names were spoken aloud for the first time.
Minju was no longer a whisper.
She was a name.
A storm.
And Haru?
He didn't know what would come next.
But for the first time in his life, he wasn't scared of being seen.
Because now, he wasn't standing in the shadows.
He was standing in the light.