A Birthday in Limbo

I knew I was ill, but I had no idea the extent of my condition. They told me I had been unconscious, wandering in a dream-like state, for a full two days. Once I regained consciousness, a series of tests followed, and amidst the unfamiliar medical jargon, a few words pierced through clearly.

Weakness.

Fatigue.

Shortness of breath.

‘If you experience symptoms like shortness of breath or arrhythmia, you must come to the emergency room immediately. Even a slight misstep could lead to a serious incident.’

The doctor’s words made me realize anew just how reckless my trip to the uninhabited island a few months prior had been.

Fortunately, my recovery was faster than anticipated. After another two days, I was able to be discharged, coincidentally, precisely on my birthday.

Becoming aware of the date, a slight sense of regret settled within me.

While I wasn’t typically fond of sweets, on my birthday, I always shared a whole cake with the other members. I found myself inexplicably longing for the modest birthday spread—a simple cake and some chicken. More than the food itself, I missed the boisterous atmosphere we shared around it.

Of course, I hadn’t had time to taste the cake that made its way onto the concert stage. And even if I bought one now, I couldn’t eat it, having been strictly warned to be especially careful about my diet for the foreseeable future.

“Why am I even bothering to care about such things?”

My face felt hot, though no one could possibly peek into my thoughts. Perhaps watching a twenty-year-old’s life for a while had made my own thoughts regress to that age.

The car returning to the dorm was driven by the familiar ‘Secretary Choi’.

“It’s such a nice day; how about we take a little detour before heading back?”

“…Pardon?”

I had expected someone rigid and formal, fitting the image of a secretary, but he was a surprisingly bright and cheerful middle-aged man. He would sometimes utter odd remarks, like suggesting that rice gelato was permissible because it contained rice, before subtly weaving in what he truly wanted to say.

He mentioned that my father wanted to see me.

‘Really? He didn’t seem like the type to say something like that.’

In any case, having nothing else to do, I indulged the secretary’s wish and aimlessly drove around. It was only as we pulled into the parking lot beneath the dorm that I realized his true intention: he was simply trying to delay returning to work, even for a little while.

The dorm, now empty of its residents, was eerily quiet.

…

It felt, somehow, like the calm before a storm.

Yoon Jihyuk had definitely said we’d talk at the dorm. While I was in the hospital room, the HEX members who visited, one by one as their schedules allowed, seemed to deliberately avoid deep conversations. It was as if they had all agreed to do so beforehand.

It felt highly probable that they would all converge on me today, ready for a serious discussion. First, though, I needed to see the one I could meet right away.

I headed directly to Kwon Yohan’s room.

‘-…Ah!’

“Hello.”

‘-…You’re late?’

Kwon Yohan’s eyes darted around, his face wary. ‘Why was he acting like that?’

“I was taken to the hospital, you see.”

‘-During the concert?’

“Well, yes, but it was almost at the very end. They said there weren’t any major issues.”

‘-I see…’

With that listless reply, the conversation abruptly ceased. Amidst the uncomfortable silence, I recalled several questions I wanted to ask him.

But there was one thing I wanted to say more than anything else.

“Kwon Yohan.”

At the sudden call of his name, Kwon Yohan’s eyes widened. His tension was palpable.

“Happy birthday.”

His clear eyes instantly clouded over at my words. His cheeks seemed to flush slightly.

‘-Oh, uh, thank you. I guess the date has already come around.’

“You didn’t know it coincided with the concert?”

‘-I was only told it was sometime in the summer. My birthday isn’t that important, anyway…’

“What are you talking about? Your fans probably consider your birthday more important than their own.”

Leaning against the wall, I recounted the events of the past few days. Unlike the brief reports I had given until now, I spoke in a bit more detail.

I told him about the surprise birthday celebration during the concert and how his mother had brought him homemade seaweed soup early this morning.

Listening to the story with a complex, nuanced expression, Kwon Yohan finally spoke, his face rigid.

‘-How… how was it?’

“What was?”

‘-Being celebrated by the fans.’

“Curious?”

When I asked with a knowing look, Kwon Yohan swallowed hard and nodded quickly.

“It was so good, I wondered if I was even allowed to feel that way.”

It was an unadorned, pure sentiment.

“And I also wondered if I was allowed to take something like that away from you. I don’t know what you think, but I feel a bit… guilty.”

However, I now understood. I knew that Kwon Yohan didn’t take his fans’ affection lightly, and I knew what it truly meant to him.

Kwon Yohan’s achievements could not be my own.

I wasn’t Kwon Yohan; I was merely borrowing his body.

What is borrowed must always be returned. Even if it wasn’t something I had wished for, I couldn’t just use someone else’s life as I pleased.

This wasn’t an item like clothes or stationery that could simply be replaced. It was life itself, and that made it even more so.

“Because you collapsed this time, your mother was furious. I somehow managed to persuade her not to make you quit immediately, allowing you to finish the tour, but whether I can persuade her again after that is uncertain.”

Kwon Yohan’s expression suggested he was forcing himself to endure words he didn’t want to hear. It was the face he usually wore before his patience ran out, especially in front of his mother.

Regrettably, I had no intention of letting him avoid it. I took a short breath, then spoke again.

“Let’s be clear about one thing. If you return and are no longer Yohan of HEX, can you accept that reality?”

‘-That won’t happen.’

“How can you be so sure?”

‘-Never. Because I won’t go back.’

He spoke as if he could choose when his soul came and went, but that couldn’t possibly be true.

Saying he was going to let go anyway, that he no longer coveted it, and that he was more comfortable now that he’d shed it—treating something he once cherished as sour grapes… it was a form of rationalization.

Just as I had been desperate to resolve the immediate issues, Kwon Yohan, too, must have been desperate to endure his current situation.

‘What am I supposed to do about this…?’

“Now that I think about it, what have you been doing while I was gone?”

‘-Huh? Uh… just existing.’

Setting aside the events since he was recruited into the team, which I had no way of knowing, Kwon Yohan’s current environment, where he had to be alone almost all day, was eerily similar to when he had been trapped in his own solitary cave a year ago.

In fact, it was worse, as he lacked even the freedom to move. I should have considered this sooner.

“Aren’t you bored?”

‘-I am bored, but it’s fine. I’ve gotten used to it now. People are creatures of adaptation, after all.’

“Adaptation, my foot. Hmm… Should I hang something on the wall here? It would be better if you could watch videos or something, wouldn’t it?”

‘-Huh?’

It had been a serious suggestion, but Kwon Yohan burst out laughing, seemingly taking it as a joke. His face, which had been gloomy throughout, finally seemed to lighten a little.

‘-You’re surprisingly silly, senior.’

“Silly, am I? Anyway, you do it too.”

‘-…Do what?’

“Say happy birthday.”

Kwon Yohan said, with a reluctant tone.

‘-Ha, happy… birthday?’

It seemed he had misunderstood, thinking I meant for him to wish himself a happy birthday.

“Yes. Thank you. But why are you suddenly speaking informally?”

‘-…It’s your birthday too, senior?’

I nodded wryly.

That’s precisely the problem. I’d received countless congratulations, like stars in the sky, but not a single one was for me. When I opened my eyes after a brief moment, Kwon Yohan’s reaction was similarly complex and nuanced.

****

Upon hearing the news of my discharge, the members, who had returned home one or two at a time, were all gathered by early evening. Though I had braced myself for it, no sooner had Choi Seung-beom entered than a knock sounded at the door.

“Hey, come out here.”

Han Doyoung called out to me in a sharp tone, as if he had come to collect a debt.

Stepping into the living room, I found the members already seated, clustered together. They had left the central spot on the spacious sofa conspicuously empty. Was this meant for me? It was a seating arrangement that overtly placed pressure on me.

Still, what could I do? I took the designated seat.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

No sooner had my backside touched the sofa than Lee Seon lunged forward with his question. Indeed. I didn’t precisely know why Kwon Yohan had hidden his health condition from the members until now.

However, I could infer it from his words and actions.

“Because it hurt my pride.”

“What?”

“To admit that I was holding you back, and that I would continue to do so… I didn’t want to accept it.”

No one was more fed up with Kwon Yohan than Kwon Yohan himself.

“It’s unsightly, isn’t it?”

‘Ah, I’m getting too immersed. I shouldn’t be.’

“I’m sorry. Still, I should have told you before I caused any trouble.”

Lee Seon’s brow furrowed deeply. The lines etched into his scrunched face were prominent. He looked like a chihuahua about to bite its owner.

“That’s not what we’re talking about right now!”

Choi Seung-beom, who was sitting next to him, let out a deep sigh and covered Lee Seon’s mouth. Lee Seon struggled for a moment before quietly surrendering.

“Incidents and accidents happen everywhere, but if you’re struggling to keep up with activities, whether physically or mentally, you should have coordinated with the company to take a break or adjusted things to avoid overexertion. Isn’t knowingly pushing yourself, aware that problems could arise, exactly what it means to hold us back?”

Choi Seung-beom, usually a man of few words, spoke fluently today, as if reciting something he had prepared. Yoon Jihyuk, who would typically intervene and mediate if the atmosphere became this sharp, remained silent instead. His gaze, fixed on me from his shadowed face, was intense.

Han Doyoung, unable to bear it any longer, interjected.

“They both worried about you, you know.”

He ran a hand through his red hair and added,

“So did I.”