Rain fell gently outside the windows of DC Entertainment's office. The sky over Seoul was gray, as if it knew something was about to break today.
Darren Hwang sat silently on the sofa in the third-floor meeting room, hands trembling as he gripped a water bottle that had long gone cold. Across from him, Kim Kyun Bin sat with his head down, his jaw clenched. Jung Chan Hee stared blankly at the table, while Choi Jae Min nervously twirled a ring on his finger. No one spoke. They were waiting.
The door opened. The CEO entered, flanked by two legal staff and their manager, Jihoon-hyung. The manager—usually warm and full of energy—now wore a stiff, empty expression.
Without any small talk, the CEO placed a document on the table. One sheet of paper, one final sentence.
["DC Entertainment officially terminates the contract with the boy group Dream Night, effective immediately."]
Silence.
No crying. No shouting. Just a suffocating quiet, as if the world had stopped breathing.
"Why?" Kyun Bin—the group's leader—spoke, his voice cracking, hoarse with restrained anger. "Did we do something wrong? We still have promo schedules, fan meetings, a comeback—" His words trailed off.
"We're sorry," the CEO replied flatly. "This decision is final."
"And you may leave the company premises after this," he added.
Darren felt his body go light—not from relief, but as though his soul had floated out of him. Six years. Six years of training, debut, touring, hard work, and dreams… crushed in a single sentence.
Chan Hee stood abruptly, his chair screeching back. "You can't just throw us away like this. We're people, not products you can shut down whenever you want!"
Jae Min closed his eyes. A single tear fell silently.
Darren looked at his hands. The same fingers that once trembled with joy while holding a mic for the first time now felt numb. He tried to speak, but only one sentence came out:
"Then… what are we supposed to do now, after leaving this place?" Darren asked.
There was no answer.
The curtain had closed. And for Dream Night, that stage would never open again. Even if it did, they could no longer stand upon it as Dream Night.
***
Darren exited the building wearing a mask, a black cap, and his denim jacket. He didn't care about the rain falling on Seoul. For him, the world had simply stopped. Clenching his fists tightly, he walked away without paying attention to his surroundings—though many people passing by glanced at him, full of questions.
Soon, the Korean-American man disappeared into a white sedan that drove off.
The other two members followed, their footsteps echoing on the concrete as they tried to avoid the flashing cameras. Like Darren, they entered separate cars and drove off.
Last was Kyun Bin. He walked out calmly, but his heart was shattered. He tried to greet the press without wearing a mask, so his facial expression was clearly visible. He tried to hide something.
But it didn't take long before Kyun Bin picked up his pace, walking along the sidewalk. He was headed to a place he once called "home."
An old recording studio in Yongsan District—now more dilapidated than ever. A place once filled with Dream Night's laughter and dreams, now just him, alone, wrapped in sudden grief, crashing down like lightning without pause.
His body felt broken from within. His mouth no longer capable of speech. All he could think about was the sudden disbandment announced by DC Entertainment—a decision he had no warning of.
He had only received a vague hint from Manager Jihoon about a storm approaching Dream Night. And it turned out, the warning had been accurate.
Kyun Bin sat cross-legged in front of a large mirror, blasting a random song at full volume through the speakers. He didn't care. His ears no longer heard the noise—only the chaos inside his mind, overwhelmed by dreams that had just crumbled.
***
Elsewhere, on the way to Gangnam District, a 22-year-old man with pale-dyed hair sat quietly. His eyes, hidden behind black sunglasses, stared blankly out the window. He watched the busy world pass by outside—a world that looked fine, though to him it felt like he had just fallen from the tallest building, hitting the ground hard.
His chest was tight. Throughout the trip, he barely spoke a word to the driver—only nodding or gesturing when necessary. He wanted to be left alone.
His phone was flooded with random notifications ever since leaving the company building. And there it was, on Dream Night's official Instagram account, clearly posted for all to see:
["Five beautiful years have passed, but we will always cherish our sweet memories with STARRY."]
No "thank you." No recognition for the members' efforts. Just that.
His eyes reddened, filled with restrained rage. He never imagined his dreams would end like this—in betrayal.
He accidentally glanced at the comment section. Many fans were speculating that Dream Night had been disbanded without notice. And of course, images of each member leaving the building—disguised though they were—had already spread online. Netizens were connecting the dots with that final post.
He turned off his phone, hoping not to see any more of the heartbreaking news. He still clung to the hope that this was all just a bad dream. One he would wake from once he reached his apartment.
***
At the dorm, everything was quiet—until a tall man erupted. He unleashed his fury that night—smashing vases, slamming doors, screaming alone in his room. But after all the destruction, he fell silent, like a statue. No crying. No words. Just stillness, staring at the ceiling as if waiting for something to fall from it.
He didn't know what to do. After five years of glory, they were suddenly forced into darkness. As Dream Night's main rapper, Chan Hee recalled all the times before their downfall. They had no scandals, no controversies. In fact, it was because of them that DC's stock kept rising each year. Dream Night had stood alongside other top groups—except now, they were pushed down as if they never existed.
His chest ached. Chan Hee couldn't speak anymore, even though his phone kept lighting up with notifications. He didn't want to open any of them. The pain was already too much.
Soon after, Jae Min arrived. He was shocked to see the dorm in chaos and one of his brothers—his family—kneeling with his back to him.
Jae Min's eyes were cold, his gaze empty. The cheerful spark he used to show to cameras was gone. As if his public image had shattered. The eldest member ignored Chan Hee—not out of hatred, but because he too was drowning in disappointment with DC's executives. He had already decided to return to his hometown of Busan that night.
His phone was off. He refused to check social media, refused to speak to the manager, even to his mother. He just wanted to sit by the ocean, listening to the waves—hoping their sound could replace the fan chants that once filled stadiums.
***