It had been surprisingly difficult to insist I head to the MedLab on my own. Seriously, it was just a straight path, but apparently it was y trapped or something because even Jin offered to me. After fending them off like needy puppies, I managed to squeeze out the front door. Once I was out of there, alone, I took a deep breath. I appreciated each and every one of those guys and I had enjoyed their company immensely, but I had to admit that this little tiny window of freedom I had was rather nice. Ensuring the gate was properly shut behind me, I made my way down the soft dirt path, taking my time as I watched my moccasins displace the fine earth with each step I took. I was in no hurry. My time window had been ‘morning’ and since there were no clocks or timepieces of any kind, the fact that the sun was very firmly in the eastern quadrant, I had nothing to really worry about.

Regretfully, I spotted the familiar building up ahead after quite enjoying my quiet walk alone. With a deep breath, I made my way up the few shallow entryway stairs and pulled open the standard wooden door. I had grown so used to the dungeon-esque steel doors of the compound that I threw the door a bit too forcefully, sending the knob into the outer panels of the building with a loud, rattling thud. I winced slightly as I reached to grab it, pulling it gently behind me as I stepped through. A man was watching me from behind a light wood desk, his eyes full of agitation. “Sorry,” I muttered with a little bow before approaching him. “Yoo Seoyeon,” I introduced, my Korean name sounding foreign on my own lips.

“Yes,” he droned, “I know who you are.” He turned to rifle through some files on a rack behind him, so I simply waited quietly, habitually playing with the hem of my shirt. The hard man turned back around, his eyes bored and irritated, “Here,” he a file into my hands, “Second door on the left.” And with that, he returned his attention to the papers on his desk, very clearly done with me.

I stood there for a moment, my lips pursed into a tiny line. “Well alright then,” I murmured to myself as I turned to head down the sterile hallway, the bright fluorescent lights and white linoleum floor such a stark contrast to what I had grown used to. I entered the allocated room, the door already open and waiting, and I was struck with how normal it looked. There was the standard chalky blue segmented exam chair in the center, the counter with a sink along one wall with cabinets hanging on all sides, as well as a few chairs along the back wall. It had been so different during my initial exam. If I had just walked down the hall a bit longer, I might have seen the bright white testing room and holding cells that I had been pushed around in just four days ago. Instead, I sat down in the central chair, the plastic leather squeaking with every move I made. I resisted the urge to open the file that I had set in my lap. There was a pretty high chance that there was information in there that I would just rather not read. Regardless, I was getting bored from the quiet waiting.

Just as I was about to crack open my own file, I heard footsteps, and I straightened up in the chair. Two men shuffled into the little room, both wearing long white coats and medical masks. Just by their eyes, I could tell the taller man was older, the skin around his eyes slightly leathery and creased, whereas the shorter man was distinctly younger, his eyes narrow, but bright and smooth. “Good morning,” the older man greeted, reaching a hand out for my file.

Taken aback by his bright greeting, I was hesitant before handing him my file, “Good morning,” I returned, but my tone was more of a question rather than a statement. I glanced to the short, younger man, but he simply hung back, clearly doing his best to stay out of the way. If I had to guess, he was a trainee or apprentice of some kind.

“Right,” my attention was pulled back to the tall, slender old man who had been flipping through pages in my files, “It’s way too soon for a pregnancy test, so we’ll just be doing a proof of ion scan today.” I cringed at the choice of terminology, but opted to keep quiet rather than question anything this guy said. “Please ensure the patient remains still,” he spoke to his younger counterpart, who simply nodded and moved to stand at my side.

The exam was pretty much what anyone would expect- invasive and embarrassing. But at least it was relatively brief, and wasn’t painful. I was relieved they didn’t need to take any of my blood, but they did check all of the standard vitals and gave me a few more injections that went unexplained. And to my relief, once it was over, the older man dismissed me to return home.

When I left the lab, I looked up to find it somewhere close to noon. With a little sigh, I started back on the familiar path to return to the compound. I walked briskly, anxious to get back. According to the schedule, I had to make these visit to the lab once every few days. Kicking up some of the dirt as I walked, I wondered what the guys had been up to this morning without having me there to fuss over. I finally made it to the gate, punched in the obnoxiously long code on the keypad and pushed the gate open.

I heard the scuffling of feet from nearby, so I slowed the backswing on the gate, letting it close as quietly as I could. Following the sound of displaced gravel, I tiptoed around to the other sound of the building and came across a scene that I had certainly never expected to see. It was Hobie, alone, dancing in the shade of the compound building. It wasn’t some casual dance, either. His movements were quick, precise, and practiced. This wasn’t just some impulse or hobby. Hobie was powerful and athletic, while lithe and graceful. I supposed it was time to put two and two together. But first, I indulged myself by simply watching him for a long few moments, until he spotted me. Clearly startled, he nearly fell over, eyes wide as he looked me over. “Zoey!” he panted heavily, clearly worn out.

Arms crossed over my chest, I leaned against the rough concrete, watching him struggle to compose himself, “You guys were some kind of boy band, weren’t you?”

“What?” he asked me incredulously, “You catch me dancing once and you just jump to a conclusion like that?” his feigned offense was not at all convincing.

“Come on,” I laughed once, “You are a group of six- no, seven- attractive young men who have clearly known each other for a very long time, but there’s a five year age span between you,” I started listing my points on my fingers, adding emphasis as I continued, “Everyone except for you has closed ear piercing scars, and there was that whole thing about when Namjoon was surprised that I didn’t know who you all were, so clearly you were famous somehow.”

“Alright,” Hobie threw up his hands, but I saw a smile start to creep across his face as he moved  to sit on the concrete bench bolted to the rear of the building, “Alright,” he repeated as he settled in, patting the seat next to him, “I guess it is time.”

“Plus,” I continued with a little laugh as I joined him, “Have you seen Jin’s face? What a waste of a face if he weren’t famous.”

At his, Hobie laughed heartily, resting his head on the cool wall of the building, “You’re right,” he agreed once his laughter had calmed down some, though his breathing was still labored. “We were an idol hip-hop group before the Reclamation,” his voice made a sharp turn from amused to depressed incredibly quickly. “We were pretty popular, too,” he added with a sad sigh.

This raised a ton of questions in my mind, and I just didn’t know where to start. At least Hobie sat patiently for me, his wide, comforting smile keeping me grounded. “Okay,” I breathed, “The buy-outs,” I started, raising my eyebrows, “Were you not successful enough to afford getting out of here?”

“No,” Hobie looked away, off between the slats of the wooden fence, “The big three labels were able to buy themselves and all their artists out, and some artists were wealthy enough to buy their friends or families, though as you might imagine, most idols had near million-dollar prices considering they were prime breeding candidates,” his voice grew incredibly sad, and I found myself reaching out to him, resting a hand on his arm. He looked down at the point of contact and smiled a little, “And I’m sure you heard about the American pop star who bought out the entirety of VIXX.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, though I knew nothing about the group in question, “I heard it cost her pretty much her entire net worth plus a huge benefit concert.”

He nodded, “And as for us, we were on a small label, and Jungkook had been labeled as not-for-sale. Even Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung, and I who were deemed unfit were still too expensive just because we were idols. So we were steril