Chapter 54 — A Thousand Mirrors, None Enough
It started with one outfit.
Then two.
Then twenty.
Then one hundred.
And then no one could count anymore.
The dorm's floor was an active warzone of silken chaos. Shoes lined up like soldiers in militant rows. Jewelry boxes — real ones, the kind with velvet interiors and black cards from private vaults — lay open across the coffee table. Custom-tailored coats draped over the backs of chairs. There were dress shirts that shimmered when the light hit at an angle, cufflinks forged in pure platinum, and lapel pins shaped like blooming obsidian roses.
Rin stood on the sofa like a stunned cat. "I… I think I just stepped on something that cost more than my life."
Sungchan held up a suit jacket in disbelief. "This… this tag says ₩1.6 billion."
"₩1.6 billion won?! FOR A JACKET?!" Minjae nearly choked.
"No, just the lining," Sungchan corrected, his voice shrill. "The lining, hyung."
The manager had gone pale thirty minutes ago.
He hadn't spoken since Jaeheon began moving like a man possessed — trying on outfit after outfit, changing before anyone could register the last one. The living room had become a revolving door of transformation.
Every time he walked out, it was like seeing a different version of him. A colder one. A sharper one. One that didn't belong in the idol world. One that belonged in the kind of world none of them dared dream about.
Minjae leaned close to Hyunjae and whispered, "Why is he doing this?"
"Because it's her," Hyunjae replied without hesitation. "It's always been her."
They didn't need to say her name.
They never had to.
That was the rule.
And Jaeheon had never broken it.
But now… now his entire body spoke in a language more powerful than words.
He stood before the full-length mirror for the seventh time that hour, adjusting the smallest details. A cuff. A chain. The angle of a collar. His reflection looked still, but his hands never stopped.
He wasn't just dressing.
He was chasing something.
Trying to match a memory that was gilded in his mind.
Trying to stand in front of her again and not look like a boy who had once stood in the shadows.
Trying to show her — without ever saying it — that he had become a man who remembered.
Who still remembered.
Everything.
"Hyung," Rin asked quietly, "Why's he trying so hard? He never cared about clothes before. He wears the same black hoodie four days in a row…"
Minjae smiled faintly.
"Because love is quiet," he said, "until it needs to scream."
Four hours passed. No one dared stop him.
The manager finally sat on the floor in stunned silence, flipping through the digital tags of the clothing now strewn across their living room like the aftermath of a war between stylists and royalty.
"That coat," he muttered, pointing. "₩2.8 billion."
"Those shoes? ₩900 million. EACH."
"Cufflinks? That's a f***ing car."
The final outfit was simple.
Not the flashiest. Not the most expensive.
But the one.
A deep blue so dark it looked black under artificial light. Tailored to the millimeter. Crisp white cuffs peeking out like snow on the edge of a frozen lake. A single brooch at his chest — sapphire encased in ancient silver, its meaning unknown.
He didn't say anything when he finally chose it.
Didn't ask what they thought.
Didn't need to.
He walked to his room and came out again, tie adjusted, hair combed back with precise elegance.
The air changed.
The living room felt like a museum now.
And they — the members, the manager, even the very walls — were simply watching someone cross into a life they could never reach.
He stood in front of the mirror, exhaled once, and picked up a black velvet box.
Inside: the invitation.
Still glowing faintly.
He didn't smile.
But the silence around him pulsed with one message:
He was ready to meet her again.