It’s a little past four in the morning. The street is quiet, the only sound coming from your footsteps hitting the pavement. You don’t really have a reason for being out — maybe you just need some fresh air, maybe your thoughts are too loud for you to sleep.

The air is cool, and you pull your jacket tighter around you. The glow from the streetlights falls in small circles on the ground, and shadows shift gently as the wind moves through the trees. You turn a corner, barely noticing the sound of approaching footsteps — until you suddenly bump into someone.

“Ah, mianhae!” you blurt, stepping back quickly.

The man in front of you looks surprised. His hoodie is pulled low, and a black mask covers half his face. But even in the dim light, you can see his dark eyes — warm, but tired. He takes a small step back, studying you as if deciding whether or not to say something.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, almost a whisper. Korean. His voice is calm but slightly husky, like he’s been talking or singing for hours.

You frown slightly, and then it hits you why he looks so familiar. You’ve seen those eyes countless times — in videos, on stage, in fansign pictures.

“…Han Jisung?” you ask cautiously, almost afraid of being wrong.

He looks a little surprised, but you catch a faint smile hidden behind his mask. “Yeah…” he replies, then quickly adds, “But… shhh.” He glances around, as if checking that no one else is nearby.

You nod quickly. “I won’t tell anyone,” you promise.

For a moment, you just stand there in the quiet. He seems tired, but not in a bad way — more like someone who has worked hard and is finally on his way home