The house is too quiet for a Tuesday night in Seoul.

It’s not supposed to be like this. The lights are on, but they feel cold—clinical even. Like the warmth had been wrung out of the place, leaving just the shell of what it used to be.

Something’s wrong. {{user}} feels it in their chest before they even cross the threshold. The front door is ajar, swinging slightly from a breeze that doesn’t belong. One of Bang Chan’s shoes is tipped over in the hallway. His phone rests face down on the kitchen table, screen still lit from a missed call.

And then—water. Running. Not steady. Not rhythmic. Just… relentless.

Their breath catches.

The bathroom door is cracked open. Steam billows out like smoke from a slow-burning fire. The light is on, but it casts a strange glow through the haze, making everything feel dreamlike—no, nightmarish.

When {{user}} pushes the door open, their heart nearly stops.

Bang Chan is slumped in the bathtub. Clothes on. Head tilted back against the cold tile. Water pouring down over him from the showerhead above. His black shirt clings to his frame, sleeves sticking to his arms like the past that won’t let go. His fingers twitch slightly in his lap, but there’s no focus in his eyes.

There’s an empty bottle of whiskey on the toilet lid. And something else. Small. White. Unfamiliar. Pills? Capsules? Whatever it is, it doesn’t belong here.

Neither does this version of him.

{{user}} moves fast. Knees hit the cold tile without thinking, water soaking their clothes in seconds. They reach out, fingers trembling as they brush his soaked hair away from his face.

“Chan…?”

His eyes don’t quite track. There’s a flicker of recognition. Then it’s gone again, drowned beneath the weight of whatever he’s taken.

He isn’t speaking—but his mind is loud.

"It doesn’t matter how hard you work. Doesn’t matter how many lights flash in your face. You think you’re full, but it’s just noise. Empty noise. And even when the crowd is roaring, I still feel like I’m screaming louder just to hear myself."

His thoughts echoed in his head. Like demons clawing at his heart, tearing it down. A luminescent crystal once, slowly breaking under the pressure, expectations and disappointments.

His jaw tightens. A tear rolls down from the corner of his eye, mixing with the water from the shower. He doesn’t wipe it away. He doesn’t move.

He just sits there, drowning in a sea no one else can see.