Trty

The glow of the smartphone screen cast a harsh, artificial light over Lee Seunghyun’s face. To the millions watching the live stream, he was still the "Great Seungri," the charming, mischievous youngest member of BigBang, flashing his signature grin and cracking jokes that made Daesung double over in laughter beside him.

They were in a private lounge, the atmosphere thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the faint, lingering smell of ramen they had finished minutes prior. Daesung was leaning into the frame, his eyes crinkling into half-moons as he read the scrolling comments.

"Everyone is asking when the next tour is," Daesung said, his voice bright and melodic. "They miss us, Seungri-ya."

Seunghyun leaned back, adjusting his silk shirt with a practiced flick of his wrist. "The fans know we never stay away for long. I’m working on so many things right now. Business is booming, the music is coming—everything is perfect."

He believed his own lie. He had to. For months, the whispers had been growing louder in the dark corners of the nightlife industry, but Seunghyun had convinced himself he was untouchable. He was a king in an empire they had built from sweat, tears, and blood.

The door to the lounge didn't just open; it slammed against the wall with a violence that made the camera shake on its tripod.

Daesung jumped, his laughter dying instantly. Seunghyun froze, his hand halfway to his hair.

Kon Sonhyun, the man who had managed BigBang’s internal affairs and personal schedules for years, stood in the doorway. His face wasn't its usual mask of professional calm. It was a terrifying shade of mottled red, his chest heaving as if he had run a marathon. In his hand, he clutched a thick folder and a tablet that was glowing with news headlines.

"Sonhyun-hyung?" Daesung asked, his voice wavering. "We’re live. Do you want to say hi to the VIPs?"

Sonhyun didn't look at Daesung. His eyes, burning with a cold, lethal fury, were fixed entirely on Seunghyun. He took three long strides into the room, ignoring the tripod and the thousands of viewers watching the pixels of his rage.

"Turn it off," Sonhyun hissed. It wasn't a request.

Seunghyun reached out, his fingers trembling slightly, but he didn't end the stream. He tried to summon the persona. "Hyung, what’s the matter? You’re interrupting a very important moment with the fans—"

"Important?" Sonhyun roared, the sound distorting the audio of the live stream. He slapped the folder down onto the table, sending the ramen bowls skidding. "You want to talk about important, you arrogant, pathetic little boy? I just spent four hours with legal. I just saw the logs, Seunghyun. I saw the chats. I saw what was happening at Burning Sun."

The air in the room vanished. Daesung’s face went pale, his eyes darting between the manager and the youngest member. "Hyung, what are you talking about? Burning Sun is just a club..."

"It’s a graveyard, Daesung!" Sonhyun yelled, turning briefly to the older singer before snapping his gaze back to Seunghyun. "It’s a graveyard for everything you four built. Jiyong’s genius, Youngbae’s heart, Tabi’s soul—all of it, burned to the ground because this disgusting, stupid child wanted to play gangster."

Seunghyun stood up, his chair screeching against the floor. "You don't know what you're talking about. Those are private matters. It’s business. I can fix it."

"Fix it?" Sonhyun let out a harsh, jagged laugh that sounded like glass breaking. He stepped closer, invading Seunghyun’s personal space, completely indifferent to the fact that the phone was still broadcasting his every word to the world. "You’ve been pimping out women, Seunghyun. You’ve been bribing police. You’ve been recording people without their consent. It’s all coming out. The reporters have the files. The police are moving."

"Hyung, stop," Seunghyun pleaded, his voice cracking. He glanced at the phone, seeing the comments scroll by at a blinding speed. *What is happening? Is this real? Burning Sun? Police?* "We’re on V-Live! Think about the image!"

"The image is dead!" Sonhyun screamed, slamming his fist onto the table. "You destroyed it! You think you’re a businessman? You’re a parasite. You took the fame your hyungs earned with their lives and you used it to shield your filth. You are disgusting. I look at you and I want to vomit."

Daesung reached out to grab Sonhyun’s arm. "Hyung, please, let’s talk about this privately. The fans... the whole world is watching."

Sonhyun shook him off, his eyes never leaving Seunghyun, who was now backed against the wall, looking small and fragile.

"Let them watch," Sonhyun said, his voice dropping to a deadly, low vibration. "Let them see the real Lee Seunghyun. Not the 'Great Seungri,' but the coward who sold his soul for a bit of power in a basement club. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Jiyong is going to be dragged through the mud because of you. Youngbae’s reputation will be stained just by being in the same group as a predator. You’ve ruined them. You’ve ruined everything."

"I did it for us!" Seunghyun cried out, tears finally spilling over. "I wanted to build an empire so we didn't have to rely on the music forever! I did it for the future of the brand!"

Sonhyun stepped forward and grabbed Seunghyun by the collar of his expensive silk shirt, bunching the fabric in his fist.

"Don't you dare lie to me," Sonhyun whispered, though the microphone on the table picked up every syllable. "You didn't do this for BigBang. You did this because you’re insecure. You did this because you wanted to feel bigger than the shadows of your members. And in the process, you became something so vile I don't even recognize you."

He shoved Seunghyun back. The younger man stumbled, hitting the wall with a dull thud.

"You’re done," Sonhyun said, the fire in his voice replaced by a chilling finality. "The agency is going to cut you loose. The members... if they have any sense, they will never speak your name again. You’re not a member of BigBang anymore. You’re just a criminal who happened to sing."

Seunghyun sank to the floor, his head in his hands. He began to sob—harsh, gulping sounds of a man who realized his golden cage had finally shattered. "Hyung, please... I’m scared. I didn't mean for it to get this bad. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

Sonhyun looked down at him, and for a moment, there was a flicker of the man who used to make sure Seunghyun ate his meals and got enough sleep during world tours. But the flicker died quickly, extinguished by the weight of the evidence in the folder.

"I don't care about your feelings, Seunghyun," Sonhyun said coldly. "I care about the victims. I care about the four men whose legacies you just set on fire. Your tears don't mean anything. They’re just another performance, and I’m tired of watching."

Sonhyun finally turned his attention to the tripod. He walked over to it, his face filling the screen. The comments were a chaotic blur of horror, denial, and outrage.

"The show is over," Sonhyun said to the camera.

He reached out and swiped the screen. The light died. The room was plunged into a heavy, suffocating silence, broken only by the sound of Seunghyun’s weeping and the distant sound of a siren beginning to wail in the streets of Seoul.

Daesung stood frozen in the center of the room, his hands trembling. He looked at his youngest brother—the one they had protected, the one they had joked was the "baby" of the group. He looked at the folder on the table, the physical manifestation of a betrayal that would change the landscape of their lives forever.

"Is it true?" Daesung asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Seunghyun didn't answer. He couldn't. The weight of the crown had finally crushed him, and there was no one left to pick up the pieces.

Sonhyun walked to the window, looking out at the city lights. He had spent a decade protecting these boys. He had fought off reporters, handled scandals, and kept their secrets buried deep. But this wasn't a secret he could bury. This was a rot that had started at the core, and as he watched the blue and red lights of police cruisers reflect off the glass of the skyscraper, he knew that BigBang—the real BigBang—had died in that lounge tonight.

"Get up," Sonhyun said, not turning around. "The police are downstairs. Don't make them come up here."

Seunghyun stayed on the floor, a broken idol in a room full of ghosts. He had wanted the world to adore him, to see him as a king of industry and entertainment. Now, the world had seen him for exactly what he was.

The silence that followed was the loudest thing any of them had ever heard. It was the sound of an era ending, not with a bang, but with the pathetic, wet sobs of a man who had traded everything for nothing.