Chapter 53 — Gold Threads and Closed Mouths
The silence after the invitation lingered like perfume in a locked room.
The members tried to return to their lives — the game controller was picked up again, half-heartedly. The TV remained on, flickering light across confused expressions. Sungchan tried to distract himself by rearranging his sock drawer. Rin pretended to scroll his phone, but hadn't blinked in two minutes. Minjae had opened the fridge and was staring inside without actually seeing anything.
But nothing was the same.
Not after that.
And not with Jaeheon moving with quiet deliberation into his room, case still in hand, expression still unreadable.
Thirty minutes passed.
Then his door opened again.
And everything unraveled.
He stepped out holding three garment bags, each one long, matte black, and bearing no brand. Just a single golden seal stitched in the shape of a stylized crescent — an emblem none of them recognized.
"Are those… your stage clothes?" Hyunjae asked hopefully.
"No," Jaeheon said, setting them gently on the table. "They're for the ball."
"You already picked out your outfit?" the manager asked, eyebrows raised.
Jaeheon nodded once. "I've had them prepared for years. I just wasn't sure when the invitation would arrive."
"You what—" Rin nearly choked on his water.
Jaeheon unzipped the first garment bag with clinical precision.
And the room went absolutely still.
What they saw wasn't fashion.
It wasn't even couture.
It was art.
The suit inside was entirely handcrafted, composed of an iridescent black silk that shimmered like the surface of obsidian. Threads of metallic gold and platinum had been invisibly woven into the fabric — but only revealed themselves under specific angles of light. The lapels were embroidered with microscopic filigree patterns of constellations — and not random ones, but the star map from the night of Jaeheon's birth.
Minjae's jaw dropped. "That's… that's not just a suit."
"No," Jaeheon agreed.
The second was even more startling.
A long coat, tailored to his exact frame, lined with crushed midnight velvet, and fastened with real sapphire-inlaid buttons — subtle but unmistakable. A thread count so high it couldn't be measured by normal means. The inside bore hand-stitched calligraphy: Latin, Greek, and something they couldn't even identify.
Sungchan squinted. "Is that… code?"
Jaeheon looked at him. "Ancient contracts."
Rin whispered, "Contracts with what?"
"The Seven Legacy Courts," Jaeheon replied, like it was obvious. "It's ceremonial. Symbolic."
The third garment bag was slimmer.
He opened it — and revealed a mask.
Full-face, sculpted from black gold alloy. The surface was etched in lace-like designs — thin as breath, sharp as blades. One side bore a single diamond, cut into a teardrop. The inside was lined with obsidian silk and reinforced with platinum thread. It wasn't meant to conceal.
It was meant to crown.
The manager spoke at last, voice hoarse. "Jaeheon… do you know how much each of these pieces must cost?"
"Yes," Jaeheon said simply.
"Okay," Minjae said, pulling out his phone, "but I need to see it. I need numbers."
"No need," Jaeheon replied.
Too late. The members were already searching online — cross-referencing the tailoring emblems, decoding the stitch markers, hunting through obscure forums that talked about 'invisible auctions' and 'closed circles.'
Rin froze. "Wait… this… this thread alone—"
"—this fabric—"
"—this tailor only takes seven clients per decade—"
"Bro," Sungchan whispered, nearly dropping his phone. "Your sleeve costs more than our whole dorm."
Jaeheon said nothing. He adjusted the cuff calmly.
Minjae looked up, pale. "Hyung… are we standing in the presence of a human worth… over a billion won in cloth right now?"
The manager had to sit down. "I manage the most expensive man in Korea and I didn't even know it."
"But—why haven't you ever worn this before?" Hyunjae asked, half-panicked.
"Because it's not for now," Jaeheon said quietly. "It's for that world."
Minjae frowned. "And you're just walking into it like it's normal?"
Jaeheon looked at them, his expression softening slightly.
"It's not normal," he said. "It's mine."
The weight of the words settled around them like velvet.
They had always known Jaeheon was different.
Genius. Perfect. Distant.
But this wasn't about being better.
This was about being beyond.
Sungchan finally whispered what they were all thinking.
"…she is going to be there , right?"
Jaeheon paused.
Then turned back toward the garment bags.
And for once, didn't answer.