(Dohyun pov )
The moment my feet carried me away from Jihwa, I knew I'd done something wrong.
But I didn't stop. I just ran, when I felt something unusual in me, what was it though? What was this feeling?
Even when his voice cracked behind me, even when I could almost hear the hurt in his silence, I kept running. He kept on shouting my name. "Dohyun!."
Now, on the dark streets, all I could hear was my own heartbeat. Loud. Uneven. Unfamiliar.
What was this feeling? My chest hurt, it felt like something tight, pulling, almost unbearable. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face — his tears, his stubborn smile, the way he looked at me like I was worth something. That's why I call him the shining star. He manages to just smile perfectly through the pain. One day, I'll come and smile just brighter than ever.
But, the feeling with Jihwa...
It was different.
Why did it make me want to stay? Why did it make me… afraid?
I didn't know the word for it. I didn't know what it meant. I only knew it terrified me. Afraid of the pain it may put me through.
His smile only ever gave me peace in my heart. He shone, brighter than the stars itself. So I call him the shining star for a reason.
By the time I reached the master's place, my legs felt heavy. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Before he arrived home, I decided to sneak into my room pretending to sleep.
My room has a small wooden bed and next to it was a wooden table where I kept my belongings. There was no carpet on the floor and there was just creaks scattered across my room.
As time passed by.
The door creaked open. He was back. He seemed really angry that he'll burn this house by his aurora.
He took a step forward closer to me where I could feel his breath.
"Where the hell have you been?" His voice was sharp, venomous.
I froze, lowering my head immediately. "I… I finished the errand, but—"
Smack.
The slap came before I could finish. My face stung, the disgusting taste of blood pooling in my mouth.
"Liar," Hyok hissed, grabbing my collar and yanking me forward. "You think I don't know when you're wandering off? You think I don't see you wasting time?"
"I'm sorry, Master," I whispered. My hands shook at my sides, my chest pounding with fear. "It won't happen again."
"It better not." He shoved me against the wall. My skull rattled from the impact. "You're mine. Do you understand? Mine to break. Mine to use. And you'll never forget that."
I lowered my gaze and shifted my head downward, completely submitting myself to him. "Yes master."
"Strip," Hyok said coldly. His lab coat smelled of chemicals and smoke. "I just finished working on my experiment. I think it'll work on you."
My hands shook, but I obeyed. I always obeyed. Shirt off, shoulders bare, my skin prickled under the fluorescent light.
Before I could breathe, before I could even think of running, I saw it — the needle in his hand. The same damn needle I'd seen too many times.
"Hurry this—" The words caught in my throat. Begging never worked.
The sharp sting pierced my arm. Cold liquid rushed into me like poison. My body convulsed instantly, muscles locking, fire spreading under my skin.
I bit my lip hard enough to bleed, trying not to scream. But the heat clawed deeper, tearing me apart from the inside.
My pheromones burst free before I couldn't control them — wild, suffocating, filling the room with an intensity I couldn't recognize. It was like being drowned in my own body.
Hyok smiled, cruel satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "Yes… that's it. Stronger than before. You'll learn, Dohyun. You were born for this."
Born for this.
A weapon. A tool. Something to break, rebuild, break again.
AI fell onto my knees as I gasped for air. The pressure was unbearable, my body betraying me, forcing me into the role he carved out.
And yet — through the haze, through the pain — I saw him.
Jihwa.
His grin under the arcade lights. His voice tells me to prove him wrong. His hand tugged me into a world that wasn't cruel.
Why was he here?
Why did his face come back to me, even now?
Tears blurred my vision. I didn't even know why I was crying. Was it because of the pain… or because I wanted to be anywhere but here?
Hyok's voice cut through like glass. "Don't cry. You'll thank me one day. When you finally understand what you are."
But I didn't understand.
Not the heat. Not the ache in my chest. Not the way Jihwa's memory burned brighter than the fire in my veins.
What was this feeling?
Why did it hurt worse than the needle itself?
The fire in my veins burned everything away until my body finally gave in. I hit the floor with a dull thud, vision dimming, breath stuttering like and I couldn't fight it anymore.
Then—silence.
And in that silence, a memory bloomed.
I was small again. A child. Lying across soft fabric, my head resting on warmth that rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Fingers combed gently through my hair, and a low hum filled the air.
A lullaby.
I blinked up and saw her. My mother.
Her long, light brown hair tumbled down around us like a curtain, silky strands brushing against my cheek when she leaned over me. It smelled faintly of lavender — a scent I hadn't known I'd been searching for all these years until it filled me again. Her face was pale but radiant, framed by that gentle cascade of hair.
And her eyes… those grey eyes. The same as mine, but not empty like mine always were. Hers shimmered, alive and deep, like rain clouds carrying both sadness and warmth. She looked at me the way no one else ever had — like I was the only thing in the world worth protecting.
"My little prince," she whispered, brushing my bangs aside with those slender fingers. "Always so serious, always holding everything in." She kissed my forehead, her lips soft and warm, her voice weaving around me like a blanket. "You don't have to be strong all the time, Dohyun. Just rest. Just smile for me. I know your father is a piece of garbage."
Her song floated through me, seeping into the cracks I didn't know I had. I felt safe. For the first time in forever, I felt safe.
"Don't leave me," I whispered, clutching her sleeve. My voice was tiny, desperate — the voice of a boy who had lost too much.
She smiled again, humming as if she hadn't heard the plea, or maybe as if she didn't want to answer it.
I clung tighter. "Please, Mom. Don't leave me…"
But the warmth beneath me began to fade. Her lap grew cold. Her lullaby weakened, each note sounding farther and farther away.
"No… no, don't go—" My fingers slipped through fabric that wasn't there. The memory bled into darkness, her face dissolving into shadow no matter how hard I tried to hold it.
"Mom!" My voice cracked, but she didn't come back.
And then I was awake.
The cold floor pressed into my cheek, the taste of blood sharp on my tongue. The room was dark except for the low glow of a lamp.
Hyok was standing over me, smirking faintly as he adjusted the empty syringe on the table.
"Pathetic," he said, his voice slicing through me. "Even after all these injections, you still cry out for a dead woman."
My chest hollowed. The fire inside had burned everything else out.
I lay there, shivering, with her lullaby still echoing faintly in my ears — fading, fading, until even that was gone.
And once again, I was utterly alone. Tears streamed through my eyes. Mom…. Don't leave me….my heart. Why does it hurt so much?
I lay there, trembling, trying to steady my breath. But the memory wouldn't let go — her face, her hair, her eyes, the warmth of her lap.
And before I realized it, my lips moved.
"I… want my mom."
The words were small, broken, torn straight out of me. My throat burned as the sob forced its way up. "I want my mom… please, just—just bring her back…"
Hot tears spilled down my face, dripping onto the floor. I hadn't cried like this since I was a child, but I couldn't stop. "Mom… I don't want this anymore. I don't want the needles, the pain, the emptiness. I just… I just want you. Mom don't leave me…"
My body shook harder. I pressed my forehead to the floor.
Hyok's shadow loomed above me, cold and merciless. I half expected him to laugh, to call me pathetic again. Maybe he did. But I couldn't hear him anymore.
All I could hear was my own voice, ragged and raw, repeating the same thing over and over until it dissolved into gasps:
"I want my mom. I want my mom. I want my mom…"
For a brief, agonizing moment, I swore I felt her again — the phantom brush of fingers through my hair, the faint scent of lavender.
But when I reached for her, there was nothing. Only the cold, only the dark, only the ache in my chest that never stopped.
And the ugly truth: she was never coming back.