“Let go of me!” I shout, fighting the man-T.O.P’s-steel grip as we cross the street. He opens a door and drags me in, managing to hold my wrists behind my back so now he pushes me forward from behind.
I look around, realizing I stand in a place similar to the backstage of something.
“Your fans missed you Kibum,” he speaks as a woman dressed in professional attire comes up, and begins applying makeup to my face. While she does so, T.O.P points to a black and white TV screen mounted from the ceiling.
I see the boy-Onew- sitting on the bed, Izawa sitting behind him with a gun at his head and a knife at his throat.
His hands were bound and my pulse raced as I took in the image.
“You better put on a good show Kibum. His life is depending on you.”
I feel like I can’t breathe, and my throat goes dry as the woman clips on the microphone to my shirt, wrapping the wire around and putting the earpiece in place.
As soon as she’s done, T.O.P pushes me forward through a gap and I realize I’m on a stage. People scream as a spotlight turns on and reveals me. For once, I’m absolutely speechless.
I look back at T.O.P who watches me closely with a smug smirk and mouths the word ‘Go.’

I my dry lips, looking out at the crowd of people. Shawols. Fans.

“Anneyeong Shawols!” I wave and they scream disrupting my thoughts.

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