As soon as Joen.J sits in the car, his face is full of worry. His assistant, Jea, quickly opens the door.
The driver (his Appa's driver), Sangho, smoothly starts the car and pulls away from the airport.
Gunwoo, his personal guard, watches him from the front seat. "Joen.J, don't worry. Bamson will be fine—we'll find him."
Joen.J shakes his head. His voice is tense. "Sangho, any update?"
Sangho grips the steering wheel. "Still no sign of him, hyung. We're searching everywhere."
Joen.J presses his lips together, trying to control the panic rising in his chest. His heart pounds. Bamson is alone. Somewhere out there. Scared.
Joen.J lets out a heavy breath. "I didn't even think. I just—left." His hands tighten into fists.
Joen.J leans forward slightly. "Sangho, take me to Appa's house first. I need to check everything myself."
The streets, the sea breeze, the narrow alleys—they all hold pieces of his past. Whenever he flew abroad for concerts, he always left Bamson at his parents' house. They loved Bamson deeply—almost as much as he did. His mother called him her "third son," and his father often took him on evening walks around the neighborhood. It was the only place Joen.J ever felt safe leaving Bamson behind.
Sangho nods, stepping on the accelerator. The car speeds through the night, heading straight to Joen.J's family home—where Bamson should be.
Joen.J leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment. His mind is restless, filled with thoughts of Bamson. Where could he have gone? The worry is suffocating, tightening his chest.
Then—
A voice.
Soft, almost like a whisper, but clear enough to send a shiver down his spine.
His eyes snap open. His breath catches as he looks around the car, his heartbeat quickening. The dim lights from the street flicker through the windows, but there's no one unusual inside—only Jea, Gunwoo, and Sangho.
Yet, the voice lingers in his ears. A voice that feels… familiar.
His gaze darts around again, his mind racing.
And then it hits him.
The airplane.
She was sitting right behind his seat.
Joen.J remembers now. Hours ago, on the flight to Busan, a girl had been sitting in the seat behind him. He hadn't paid attention at the time, too lost in exhaustion. But now, he recalls
She was talk with someone.
A Softly, with deep emotion. The same voice he just heard now.
His hands tighten into fists. Why is her voice echoing in my head?
Joen.J swallows hard, shifting in his seat. His eyes flicker to the window, watching the city blur past. But his thoughts remain locked on that voice.
Who was she? And why, at this moment of panic, is her voice the only thing cutting through the chaos in my mind?
What was she saying? Who was she praying for?
Yes… now I remember.
She was saying:
"Ya Allah, guide him. Bring him to the right path. Make his heart recognize the truth. Give him peace, Ya Allah. Help him find the way to You…"
But… she was saying something else, too.
Some lyrics. Wait—those were from our song. What?
She was reciting our lyrics? And talking to someone?
What is this?
Oh God, what is this?
I'm overthinking. No, I can't think about this right now.
I have to find Bamson first.
Joen.J leans forward and rests his forehead gently on the back of the front seat, taking a long breath.
After an hour and a half, Joen.J finally reaches his parents' house. He greets everyone quickly, but his mind is elsewhere. Without wasting a second, he starts checking the house again—every corner, every possible place where Bamson could be hiding.
But it's useless.
Bamson is nowhere to be found.
"When you call me Appa, my heart beats fast... You don't know—Bamson is like a son to me. When I heard he was lost, I didn't know what to do."
All the staff members nod. "It's understandable. Bamson is family."
Then, I called Kim Joon. He told me not to worry, that everything would be fine soon.
He said:
"If you want to go find Bamson yourself, go. But don't forget, these are practice days. You need to come back before the concert. If you don't, we'll have to tell the media, because everyone is waiting for every member—not a single one should be missing."
I said:
"No. I'll come back before the concert. I just hope Bamson is okay. I'll find him and return in time."
After updating Kim Joon and informing the others, I got ready for the airport. There was only one connecting flight available—it reached Thailand first, then another flight would carry passengers to Korea. But at the Thailand airport, I faced another problem: business class was full. Only economy seats were available—three, but not together.
I agreed immediately. I didn't care. I just needed to reach Korea. My personal guard Gunwoo and my assistant Jea were with me. We adjusted in economy class and did our best to hide our identities because of the crowd.
"Call an animal tracker," he orders, his voice firm but tense.
Jea asks, "Are you sure, hyung?"
"Yes," Joen.J replies.
Jea nods immediately and steps aside to make the call.
Within minutes, the tracker arrives and begins their search.
Joen.J stands still, staring at the ground. His heart feels heavy. His mind is a storm of thoughts—not just about Bamson, but something else.
That voice.
Why did he hear that girl's prayer again?
And why now?
He exhales sharply, pressing a hand to his forehead.
Right now, none of that matters.
The only thing that matters is finding Bamson.
To be Continue...