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Chapter 62: ✦ Maknae [1] ✦

Alright. Here is **Chapter 62**, written as a **full-length ~2000-word Chapter**, controlled pacing, no redundant emotional rephrasing, and a tightening psychological horror tone. This Chapter introduces **external pressure becoming hostile**, **the first clear trigger tied to Do-Hyun’s scandal**, and Kang-Joon realizing that intervention may itself accelerate the collapse.

---

## **Chapter 62: The Shape of a Crack**

The article went live at 6:43 a.m.

Kang-Joon saw it while brushing his teeth, phone propped against the sink, notifications stacking faster than he could clear them.

> **[EXCLUSIVE] STEL-R MAKNAE DO-HYUN—INDUSTRY INSIDERS QUESTION "ATTITUDE" BEHIND THE SMILE**

The headline sat there, neat and impersonal.

Kang-Joon didn’t click immediately.

He finished brushing. Rinsed his mouth. Set the toothbrush down carefully.

Then he opened the link.

The article was written cautiously, the way these things always were at first. No direct accusations. Just phrasing that leaned in the wrong direction.

*"Staff members from Road to Starlight recall moments of tension..."*

*"Some insiders describe him as overly sensitive..."*

*"Concerns raised over emotional instability under pressure..."*

No sources named.

No hard claims.

Just enough to plant something.

Kang-Joon exhaled slowly.

From the hallway, he heard movement.

Do-Hyun was awake.

---

Do-Hyun read the article without expression.

They sat across from each other at the kitchen table, the same place Do-Hyun had been sitting every morning lately. His phone lay flat on the table, screen dimmed now that he’d finished reading.

"That’s not true," Kang-Joon said.

Do-Hyun nodded. "I know."

His answer was immediate.

Too immediate.

"You don’t have to respond," Kang-Joon continued. "The company will handle it."

"I know."

"Then don’t think about it."

Do-Hyun’s fingers curled against the tabletop.

"I should," he said. "They wouldn’t write it if there wasn’t a reason."

"That’s not how this works."

"It is," Do-Hyun replied. "They look for weak points."

Kang-Joon leaned forward. "You’re not a weak point."

Do-Hyun looked up.

For a moment, something sharp crossed his face.

Then it was gone.

"They think I am," he said.

---

At the company building, the atmosphere had shifted.

Staff members were polite, professional, careful. The kind of careful that left no room for error.

Do-Hyun bowed to everyone. Deeper than necessary. More often than necessary.

In the practice room, the choreographer pulled Kang-Joon aside.

"Keep him steady," she said quietly. "We don’t need problems right now."

"What kind of problems?" Kang-Joon asked.

She hesitated. "The kind that get remembered."

When they resumed practice, Do-Hyun was flawless.

Every move precise. Every expression correct.

He didn’t miss a single beat.

He also didn’t blink much.

---

During the break, Jae-hyun handed Do-Hyun a bottle of water.

"Drink," he said.

Do-Hyun took it. Held it. Didn’t open it.

"You okay?" Jae-hyun asked.

"I’m fine."

Jae-hyun studied him for a second longer, then looked away.

Gun-woo whispered to Kang-Joon, "He’s going to snap."

"Don’t say that," Kang-Joon replied.

Gun-woo shrugged. "I’m just saying."

---

The second article came out before lunch.

This one referenced *Road to Starlight* more directly.

A clip resurfaced.

Blurry. Poorly cropped.

Do-Hyun, younger, standing off to the side while another trainee cried.

The caption suggested indifference.

Kang-Joon remembered that day.

Do-Hyun had been sick. Feverish. Barely standing.

None of that made it into the article.

When Kang-Joon found Do-Hyun in the hallway, he was staring at the clip.

"I should have reacted better," Do-Hyun said.

"You were sick."

"I should have smiled."

"That wouldn’t have helped."

"It would have," Do-Hyun replied. "They wouldn’t call me cold."

Kang-Joon reached out, then stopped.

There was a distance in Do-Hyun’s posture that hadn’t been there before.

"You don’t have to be perfect," Kang-Joon said.

"I do," Do-Hyun replied. "That’s my role."

---

The meeting with Starline’s upper management happened that afternoon.

STEL-R wasn’t invited as a group.

Only Do-Hyun and Kang-Joon were called in.

The room was quiet. Clean. Too clean.

The executive smiled as they entered.

"Sit," he said.

Do-Hyun bowed. Sat.

Kang-Joon sat beside him.

"We’ll be addressing the rumors," the executive said. "But we need cooperation."

"Of course," Do-Hyun said.

The executive nodded. "You’re young. Fans project onto you. That’s a responsibility."

"I understand."

"Good. Then be careful."

"With what?"

"With yourself."

The executive’s gaze lingered on Do-Hyun.

"People are watching now," he continued. "They expect consistency."

"Yes."

"No emotional displays. No misunderstandings. No weakness."

Do-Hyun didn’t hesitate. "I won’t disappoint."

Kang-Joon felt something tighten in his chest.

The executive smiled again. "Excellent."

---

After the meeting, they rode the elevator down in silence.

Kang-Joon broke it.

"You don’t have to agree to everything they say."

Do-Hyun shook his head. "It’s fine."

"It’s not."

"This is how it works," Do-Hyun said. "You know that."

The elevator chimed.

The doors opened.

Do-Hyun stepped out first.

He didn’t wait for Kang-Joon.

---

That night, Do-Hyun skipped dinner.

Again.

Kang-Joon knocked on his door.

No answer.

He opened it.

Do-Hyun sat on the floor, back against the bed, knees pulled to his chest.

The lights were off.

His phone lay face-down beside him.

Kang-Joon closed the door behind him.

"You need to eat," he said.

"I’m not hungry."

"You haven’t been hungry for days."

"I don’t need it."

Kang-Joon crouched in front of him.

"Look at me."

Do-Hyun didn’t.

"Do-Hyun."

Slowly, his gaze lifted.

His eyes were bloodshot.

"I’m doing everything right," Do-Hyun said. "Why is this happening?"

Kang-Joon didn’t answer immediately.

Because he didn’t know.

"This isn’t your fault," he said finally.

Do-Hyun laughed once.

"That’s what people say before they leave."

Kang-Joon reached for his shoulder.

Do-Hyun flinched.

"Don’t," he said.

Kang-Joon froze.

"I’m fine," Do-Hyun repeated. "Please."

Kang-Joon stood up.

He didn’t know what else to do.

---

Later that night, Kang-Joon sat alone in the living room, scrolling through old footage from *Road to Starlight*.

He found the full clip.

Do-Hyun, pale and shaking, leaning against the wall. Not cold. Not indifferent.

Just barely conscious.

The edit had erased everything else.

Kang-Joon closed the app.

A thought formed, slow and heavy.

This wasn’t new.

It had just been waiting.

---

The next morning, Do-Hyun collapsed again.

This time, in front of staff.

It wasn’t dramatic.

His knees buckled. Kang-Joon caught him before he hit the floor.

"I’m okay," Do-Hyun said immediately.

His skin was cold.

The manager swore under his breath.

"Get him water."

"I’m fine," Do-Hyun repeated.

The manager looked at Kang-Joon. "Keep him upright."

Do-Hyun’s head lolled forward.

"I said I’m fine," he insisted.

Kang-Joon tightened his grip.

For the first time, he didn’t believe him at all.

---

That night, Kang-Joon couldn’t sleep.

He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet breathing from the other rooms.

Something had shifted.

The pressure wasn’t just internal anymore.

It had a direction.

And it was pushing Do-Hyun toward something narrow and final.

Kang-Joon realized then—

If he tried to shield Do-Hyun the way he always had, it wouldn’t work.

And if Kang-Joon didn’t find a way to interrupt it—

This would end the same way it always did.

He just didn’t know that yet.