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I let out a humorless laugh.

This shit again.

It has been years and they’re still talking about it like I walked out yesterday.

You’d think I’d murdered someone instead of leaving a boy group.

The media doesn’t know the truth. They just built a story, repeated it enough times, and eventually mistook it for the truth.

The reality?

It’s all bullshit.

Yes, HADEX made me.

But HADEX also broke me.

One of the biggest K-pop groups the world has ever seen.

Back then, I was the main rapper.

The visual.

The fan favorite.

But I was also management’s biggest headache.

The black sheep.

The kid they could never fully control because I refused to become the polished little fantasy they wanted to sell.

I wasn’t interested in pretending I’d had a perfect childhood.

I wasn’t going to smile on command and thank people for saving me.

Looking back at that version of myself now feels wrong. Like I’m watching security footage of a man who died years ago.

On the television, the asshole anchor smiles as he talks about HADEX’s downfall. The smug bastard looks giddy as fuck.

Zymon looks up from his phone and glances at the screen before looking back at me with the same bored expression I’m wearing.

Neither of us needs to hear the rest.

We already know the script.

They never change the story.

They just find new ways to recycle the same damn lie.

“They really can’t let this shit go,” Zymon mutters, absentmindedly spinning the silver chain around his neck.

I drop into the chair beside him.

I keep my eyes on the screen. “They don’t want to. There’s a difference.”

If I disappear tomorrow…they lose their favorite villain.

If I keep winning…they keep cashing checks every time they say my name.