Chapter 59 — Silent Threads
The ride back from the ball was wrapped in silence—not the cold, awkward kind, but the heavy kind. Like a velvet curtain drawn over a masterpiece no one was allowed to see.
Jaeheon sat in the back seat, his profile illuminated by the occasional flicker of city lights. His expression gave nothing away, but his silence had a new texture to it. Not detached. Not distant. Almost… content. Like someone who had finally stepped through a door they'd waited years to open.
No one spoke.
No one dared to.
They'd known about the ball, of course. He'd told them—briefly—that an annual gathering existed. One that only the heirs of the world's most powerful families were invited to. "A place where legacies breathe," he'd said once, when Sungchan asked what kind of event could require hand-delivered, diamond-laced invitations.
But what happened inside the ball? Who was there? Why he attended?
They had no answers.
And judging by the silence around Jaeheon now, they never would.
When they returned to the dorm, he walked in first, still immaculate in his tailored tuxedo—worth more than most of their families' combined income—and headed straight for his room without a word. No debrief. No comments. No explanation.
He didn't even take off his watch.
The door closed with a soft click. That was it.
In the living room, the rest of AUREUS sat quietly.
Hyunjae leaned back into the couch, exhaling.
"…You felt that, right?"
Rin nodded slowly.
"Yeah. Something happened."
"But what?" Minjae asked. "He looked—"
"Peaceful," Sungchan finished for him.
The word felt strange coming from them. Jaeheon wasn't the type to radiate peace. He radiated restraint. Control. Power.
But tonight… he looked almost calm. Like a storm that had found its eye.
The manager glanced toward the hallway. "He won't say anything," he said quietly. "Not about this. Not to anyone."
"And we won't ask," Hyunjae replied without hesitation.
They all nodded. It wasn't spoken aloud, but it was understood:
This was sacred ground.
And they had no right to trespass.
Jaeheon didn't speak of it the next morning either.
He woke early—earlier than usual. Sat by the window for over an hour, phone in hand, looking out at the pale gray sky. No smile. No frown. Just stillness.
When Rin passed him in the hallway, he tried for a casual, "Morning."
Jaeheon glanced at him. Nodded once.
Then walked on.
In the studio that afternoon, he composed three songs.
No lyrics. Just music.
Strings, piano, distant notes that sounded like memory.
They weren't love songs. They were longing songs.
One of them was called Moonlight Garden.
Sungchan hovered by the door, listening. "Is this about her?" he whispered to Minjae.
Minjae shook his head. "Don't ask. Not this time."
They didn't.
Online, fans noticed something was different.
Not just in his look—but in his silence. His expression in interviews was more distant than usual. His answers in shows became even colder, more refined. And every now and then, he looked down at his phone—just once, just briefly—before slipping it away again like it burned his hands.
They didn't know about the ball.
They didn't even know such a gathering existed.
But somehow, they felt it too.
Something had changed.