Cc

The silence of the backstage hallway was deafening, broken only by the ragged, uneven rhythm of Jiyong’s breathing. He was slumped against the cold, industrial wall of the venue, his legs splayed out before him like discarded pieces of a marionette whose strings had been cruelly snapped. He had tried to stand three times. Each time, his knees had buckled before he could even exert pressure, sending him crashing back down onto the hard linoleum.

His phone was pressed so hard against his ear that his knuckles were white. On the other end of the line, the muffled sounds of a high-stakes meeting—the clinking of coffee cups and the low drone of corporate jargon—provided a sickening backdrop to his manager’s vitriol.

"I don't care if you have to crawl to the van, Jiyong," the manager hissed, his voice a sharp blade of impatience. "I am in the middle of a contract negotiation for your Japanese tour. Do you have any idea how much money is on the line? Stop being dramatic. You’ve been tired before. Get up."

"I can't!" Jiyong screamed, his voice cracking into a sob. He hammered a frustrated fist against his thigh, but the limb felt like dead weight, a numb extension of a body that had finally decided it had given enough. "You don't understand. My legs... they won't move. I’m hitting them and I can’t feel it. I’m stuck in the back hallway by the service exit. Anyone could walk in here!"

"Keep your voice down," the manager snapped. "If you keep making a scene, I'll have the legal team look into a breach of contract for unprofessional conduct. We can find someone else to fill a suit, Jiyong. You aren't as irreplaceable as you think you are when you're acting like a spoiled child."

"A child?" Jiyong’s voice dropped to a terrified whisper. "I’m scared. If a fan finds me like this... if someone gets back here... I can't protect myself. I can't even run. Please. Just send a security guard. Just send anyone."

"Figure it out," the manager said, and the line went dead.

Jiyong stared at the black screen of his phone, a cold wave of panic washing over him. He was twenty-two years old, the 'King of K-pop,' the golden goose of YG, and he was currently shivering on a dirty floor, unable to stand, abandoned by the people who were paid to protect him. His social anxiety, usually a low-grade hum in the back of his mind, surged into a roaring tide. Every shadow at the end of the hallway looked like a camera lens; every distant sound of a door closing sounded like a mob of people coming to tear pieces of him away.

He felt small. He felt skeletal. His clothes, expensive and flashy for the showcase, felt like a heavy costume he no longer had the strength to wear.

He scrolled through his contacts with trembling thumbs. He couldn't call his parents; they would panic. He couldn't call the other members; they were already at the recording studio, pushed just as hard as he was. Then, his eyes landed on a name that felt like a lifeline: Yon SoHyun.

SoHyun wasn't like the others. He didn't yell, he didn't demand, and he didn't look at Jiyong like a walking bank account. He was the man who handled the "private matters"—the one who quietly fixed the messes the company preferred to ignore.

Jiyong hit dial. It rang twice.

"Jiyong?" SoHyun’s voice was calm, a soft baritone that immediately cut through the static of Jiyong’s panic. "The showcase ended twenty minutes ago. Are you in the van?"

"SoHyun-hyung," Jiyong choked out, his composure finally shattering. "I’m... I’m on the floor. Near the Stage B exit. I can’t get up. My manager... he hung up on me. He said he’d fire me."

There was a brief pause on the other end—not the silence of someone who didn't care, but the silence of someone already moving. Jiyong heard the jingle of car keys and the soft click of a door closing.

"Stay exactly where you are," SoHyun said firmly but gently. "Deep breaths, Jiyong. I’m in the parking lot. I’ll be there in three minutes. Do not try to move. Just stay on the phone with me."

"Hurry," Jiyong whispered, closing his eyes. "Please, just hurry."

True to his word, it wasn't long before the heavy fire door at the end of the hall groaned open. The rhythmic tap of dress shoes echoed against the walls. Jiyong flinched, pulling his knees toward his chest with his arms since his legs wouldn't do the work, until he saw the familiar silhouette.

Yon SoHyun looked exactly as he always did: a casual suit with no tie, his glasses perched neatly on his nose, and an expression of profound, patient stillness. He didn't gasp when he saw the state of the company's biggest star. He didn't pull out a camera or check his watch. He simply knelt on the floor in front of Jiyong, ignoring the dust that ruined his expensive slacks.

"I'm here," SoHyun said softly. He reached out, pausing to ensure Jiyong wouldn't recoil, before placing a steady hand on the younger man’s shoulder. "You’re safe. I’ve locked the outer door."

Jiyong reached out, grabbing SoHyun’s forearm with a desperate grip. "I tried to get up, Hyung. I tried so hard. They just... they stopped working."

SoHyun looked down at Jiyong’s legs and then back at his face. He saw the dark circles under the idol’s eyes, the way his collarbones protruded sharply against his skin, and the tremor in his hands. It wasn't just exhaustion; it was a total systemic collapse.

"It’s called burnout, Jiyong. Your body is forcing you to stop because you wouldn't listen to it when it whispered," SoHyun said, his voice tinged with a rare hint of anger—not at Jiyong, but at the building they were in. "And your manager is an idiot. Forget what he said. No one is terminating your contract tonight."

"He was so mad," Jiyong whimpered, his head drooping. "He said I was replaceable."

SoHyun reached out and gently tilted Jiyong’s chin up, forcing him to make eye contact. "You are the soul of this company. But more importantly, you are a human being. He’s forgotten that. I haven’t."

SoHyun stood up and turned his back to Jiyong, crouching down. "Lean forward. Wrap your arms around my neck. I’m going to carry you to the car."

"You can't," Jiyong protested weakly, even as he reached out. "The staff... if they see..."

"The staff have all gone to the after-party or the office," SoHyun dismissed him easily. "And if anyone sees me carrying a tired friend to a car, they can answer to me tomorrow morning. Hold on tight."

With a grunt of effort, SoHyun lifted Jiyong. The idol felt terrifyingly light, like a bird made of glass. As they moved through the dim hallways, Jiyong buried his face in SoHyun’s shoulder, the scent of cedar and laundry detergent grounded him. For the first time in months, the crushing weight of being 'G-Dragon' felt like it was being shared, if only for a few minutes.

They reached SoHyun’s private SUV, parked in a shadowed corner of the garage away from the prying eyes of any lingering paparazzi. SoHyun settled Jiyong into the passenger seat, reclining it so he could lie back. He reached into the backseat and pulled out a soft wool blanket, tucking it around Jiyong’s shivering frame.

"I'm taking you to my place," SoHyun said as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Jiyong blinked, his vision blurry. "Not the dorms? The manager said I have a photoshoot at 6 AM."

SoHyun started the engine, the hum of the car a soothing vibration. He looked at Jiyong through his glasses, his eyes hard and determined.

"There is no photoshoot tomorrow. I’ll call the department head myself. If they want to argue, they can explain to the Board why they’re working their primary asset into a hospital bed," SoHyun said. He reached over and adjusted the heater. "Tonight, you’re going to eat something that isn't a vitamin shake, and you’re going to sleep until your body decides it’s ready to wake up."

Jiyong felt a tear slip down his cheek. "Why are you being nice to me? Everyone else just... they just want me to keep going."

SoHyun put the car in gear and began to drive out of the garage, leaving the neon lights of the venue behind.

"Because I remember who you were before the stage names and the costumes, Jiyong," SoHyun said quietly. "And I’d like to make sure that person is still there when all of this is over."

Jiyong tried to respond, but the warmth of the car and the sudden release of tension were too much. His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing finally evening out into a deep, heavy sleep. As the city lights flickered past the window, SoHyun reached over and briefly squeezed Jiyong’s hand—a silent promise that for tonight, at least, the world could wait.