A dark space.
Jeong Hangyeol lay sprawled in the center of it.
A faint cluster of light had barely formed into the shape of limbs, but they couldn’t yet move. Only his head had taken on the complete form of a human.
His lusterless eyes stared blankly ahead. Though there was no trace of life in his gaze, his dry lips still exhaled breath.
‘Who am I?’
Jeong Hangyeol thought.
‘I hope I’m nobody.’
His instincts didn’t seem to want to answer the question—they seemed to want to prevent him from asking it in the first place.
‘Where is this?’
He thought again.
‘I… am someone who shouldn’t exist anywhere.’
He didn’t know why, but he believed that his very existence was wrong.
“That’s not true.”
Suddenly, a voice rang out.
Cold and heavy, like iron.
When he turned toward the voice, a man and a woman had appeared beside him.
The man, Aiden, was smiling gently as he looked at Jeong Hangyeol.
“You’re not wrong.”
Aiden stepped closer to him as he spoke.
“You’re confused right now, but that’s only because your soul lacks density. You don’t need to worry. There are only a few pieces left.”
“…Soul density?”
Hangyeol asked. Aiden nodded.
“You were shattered and scattered all over the world. It felt like I was gathering pieces of your dismembered body from every corner of the earth. Souls really do circulate in the most inconvenient ways.”
Hangyeol stared quietly at Aiden’s face.
It looked like the face of a child asking for praise for a job well done. A pure expression that didn’t suit such a firm face. And from that expression, Hangyeol instinctively sensed something was wrong.
<It seems he can think for himself now.>
The woman—The Mother Who Burns Forever—gazed calmly into Hangyeol’s face.
<But he still has no grasp of his identity.>
Her gaze turned toward Aiden.
<So, what do you plan to do? Will you tell him? Or leave him to realize it on his own?>
“We’ll see.”
Aiden shrugged with a smile.
Then he bent down toward Jeong Hangyeol.
His limbs, not yet functional, merely held the shape of arms and legs, splayed out loosely.
His mind must’ve been the same. Like a puppet suddenly granted a brain—he didn’t even know who he was, nor why he questioned it.
‘You haven’t changed at all.’
Aiden thought as he looked at Hangyeol’s face.
I’m going to disappear.
The words Jeong Hangyeol had once said echoed in his memory. And just like that, one day, he disappeared.
Jeong Hangyeol’s very existence vanished.
‘Why?’
Aiden stared into Hangyeol’s eyes—depthless eyes with not even a fragment of emotion. To those eyes, Aiden asked silently:
‘Why…’
Even though you erased yourself from everyone’s memory.
‘Why didn’t you erase yourself from me?’
He wanted to grab Hangyeol’s head and beg for answers. Why did you vanish? Why didn’t you vanish from me? Why did you leave behind the empty space caused by your absence…
‘And leave all of it to me?’
But reviving the man in front of him wasn’t to seek an answer.
‘It must have been what you wanted.’
So there was no point in asking.
‘It wasn’t about needing an answer… I just couldn’t endure it.’
Aiden smiled at that thought.
“Let’s leave him be.”
He turned to The Mother Who Burns Forever.
“There’s no need for me to tell him directly. That would feel like cheating. I’ll let him stay as he is until he becomes a proper human being.”
<If that is your wish.>
She then turned her gaze to Hangyeol.
Looking between the man and woman who had fixed their gaze on him, Jeong Hangyeol asked:
“Who… are you?”
<Let’s just say we’re people connected to you.>
The woman answered.
<Strictly speaking, we have nothing to do with the current you. You don’t know who you are, nor do you feel the need to know. To you now, we must look like gods.>
Strange.
Somehow frightening.
That’s the kind of dynamic that defines the relationship between a god and their creation.
<But I am not your god. Your god was my partner…>
The god who wished to disappear from this world.
<…a man who kept running away until the end.>
“He won’t understand what that means.”
Aiden placed a hand on her shoulder.
<I apologize. I got emotional.>
“It’s alright.”
Aiden gently grasped Hangyeol’s chin, aligning their eyes.
“Do you want to know who we are?”
“I don’t know.”
Hangyeol replied in a lifeless voice.
“I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know why I should. I don’t know anything.”
“It’s better that you don’t know right now.”
Aiden whispered in Hangyeol’s ear.
“Because the world will figure out who you are faster than you will.”
Aiden turned and walked away.
Hangyeol silently watched his receding figure.
<Try not to be too concerned with your existence.>
The Mother Who Burns Forever said gently.
<Existence… doesn’t vanish so easily, even through a miracle.>
For some reason…
Jeong Hangyeol thought her words sounded like a curse.
Filming was over.
After seeing off the exhausted crew, I collapsed onto the couch in Rowen’s studio and let out a deep breath.
<You staying here again tonight?>
The Star, perched on the armrest, asked.
“Mm. For now.”
There were still things I needed to talk to Rowen about. Now that I had some grasp of Aiden’s intentions, it was impossible for Rowen to stay uninvolved. I figured it would be better to share everything clearly and ask for help.
<Just so you know, the constellations won’t get involved in this.>
“I figured.”
What I saw as a serious issue was probably nothing to the constellations.
After all, history was full of far more catastrophic events.
A constellation who chose to leave this world.
A person erased from everyone’s memory.
And someone who seeks to revive that person by harvesting fragments of other souls already nestled within new bodies.
To them…
‘It must seem trivial.’
From their vantage point in the heavens, it probably did. But I wasn’t looking from there. I had decided to face this head-on—so I couldn’t consider it trivial.
<I like your foolishness, but…>
The Star narrowed his eyes at me.
<Don’t forget—you’re only human. Without me, you could die at any time.>
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
<Then let’s grab some snacks and head back to the dorm.>
He stood up.
After seeing him off, I walked over to Rowen.
He looked just as tired from filming, slumped over a studio chair.
“Did your manager leave?”
He asked, and I nodded. Then I dragged over a plastic chair and sat beside him.
“Let’s solve our problem now.”
“Ah… sure.”
Rowen sat up straight.
“Where should we even start? Maybe from the projects that haven’t progressed at all…”
He muttered tiredly and reached for the Bluetooth mouse.
And at that moment—
Buzz!
A noise like tangled electricity filled the air. The studio lights went out, and all powered devices shut down.
“…Huh?”
I blinked in confusion and looked around.
“Power outage?”
That couldn’t be—the sunlight outside was still bright.
“Ahh… don’t worry about it.”
Rowen’s voice came from the darkness.
“My constellation just expressed their opinion.”
He said it so casually.
“Sometimes they talk to me through electricity. No need to worry. It’ll be back soon. Only this room lost power, so no one else should be affected.”
“You say that like it’s normal.”
“It actually happens pretty often. That’s why I obsessively save my files.”
Bzzt…
As he said, the power returned shortly after, and the room lit up again.
Rowen rested his chin on his hand and looked at me with interest.
“I think, Eunyul…”
He said with a faint smile.
“My constellation doesn’t really like you.”
“…All of a sudden?”
“Well. They’ve always preferred women. Never been too fond of men—unless it was their own son.”
“Pretty petty for the highest god of Greece.”
“Don’t say that. We might get another blackout. And the reason Lightning That Whirls Like the Wind doesn’t like you is simple…”
It’s because you might put me in danger.
Rowen whispered.
“So let me ask. How exactly are you planning to endanger me?”
“Ah…”
I looked away from his gaze, lost in thought.
Since Lightning That Whirls Like the Wind was a constellation, they probably didn’t want Rowen to get close to the truth about Jeong Hangyeol. It would be hard to count on any constellation’s help with this. The Star had a different set of values, so maybe he was the exception, but…
“If I say too much, I might get struck by lightning…”
With that as a joke, I began telling Rowen everything I had learned.
About Jeong Hangyeol’s existence. About Aiden’s intentions.
That the Aiden we both knew wasn’t the real Aiden, and that the Aiden who debuted with Rowen was actually Jeong Hangyeol.
That for some reason, Hangyeol’s constellation chose to disappear from the world, and with them, Hangyeol’s existence was erased from everyone’s memory.
Rowen listened calmly to the whole story.
But he was definitely working hard to process it all internally.
“How did you figure all this out?”
He asked, eyes narrowed.
“My constellation told me.”
That was the safest answer.
“You probably can’t hear it, but…”
Rowen looked up at the air.
“My constellation is very angry right now. Telling me not to get any more involved. Saying no constellation should be dragged into this…”
Then his gaze returned to me.
“Guess your constellation isn’t included in ‘all constellations,’ huh?”
Little Pink Starfish 
Leave a comment