The haunted house stood before Han and Lee Know, its dark windows and crumbling exterior sending an unsettling chill down their spines. Han, never one for haunted places, hesitated, but Lee Know’s playful teasing and challenge eventually got him to step inside. The floorboards creaked under their weight as they ventured deeper into the darkness, their flashlights casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Despite Han’s discomfort, Lee Know kept the mood light, cracking jokes to ease the tension. “You scared already?” Lee Know teased, his voice echoing through the empty halls.
Han forced a laugh, but the uneasy feeling gnawed at him. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with,” he said, though his voice trembled.
The atmosphere grew heavier as they moved further into the house, the flickering light of their flashlights barely illuminating the dark corners. The silence seemed suffocating, and Han couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Suddenly, the house groaned and shuddered, the lights flickering violently before plunging them into darkness.
Han froze, his breath catching in his throat. “Lee Know hyung?” he called, panic creeping into his voice. He reached for his flashlight, only to find that it had gone out. “Irinoo!” he shouted again, this time his voice trembling.
But there was no response.
His heartbeat quickened as he stumbled around in the dark, trying to find Lee Know. The silence was deafening, and the darkness seemed to stretch endlessly around him. He couldn’t feel Lee Know’s presence. It was as if the world had swallowed him whole.
Suddenly, the lights flickered back on, but the surroundings had changed. Han blinked in confusion, finding himself no longer in the haunted house but in what looked like a backstage area—a familiar space, yet entirely unfamiliar at the same time.
He was lying on a couch, the scent of backstage chaos in the air. The sound of people talking, of equipment being moved around, filled the space. Han sat up quickly, his mind racing.
“What… where am I?” he muttered, his hands trembling as he ran through the series of events. He had been with Lee Know, walking through the haunted house just moments ago. But now, he was here. Alone.
A staff member approached him, clipboard in hand, and smiled. “Oh, you’re awake! Your concert is about to start, so we need you to get ready.”
Han stared at the staff member, his mind spinning. “Wait, concert? What are you talking about? Where’s Lee Know Hyung?”
The staff member blinked, clearly puzzled. “Lee Know? I’m not sure who you mean. There's no one by that name on the list.”
Han’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean, no one by that name? Where’s Chan hyung? Where’s the rest of Stray Kids?”
Han snapped his head back in confusion.
"Stray Kids? You meant kids who stray out there? Why are you asking about them? Are you going to donate to them after the concert?"
The words echoed in his ears, and a sinking feeling settled deep in his stomach. He stared blankly at the staff member, the room around him spinning. This wasn’t possible. How could this be real? He had been with Lee Know just moments ago in that haunted house, laughing, teasing, and challenging each other. Now, he was alone.
Han, still trying to make sense of everything, turns to the manager once more. “Can you take me to the haunted house I went to earlier? The one I was with Lee Know at?”
The manager looks at Han with an expression of confusion and a bit of concern. He pauses, unsure how to answer. “Haunted house? Han... what are you talking about? You’ve been preparing for your solo concert today, remember? There’s no haunted house. There’s no Lee Know either. No one was with you.”
Han blinks, his thoughts starting to spiral. “What do you mean? I... I was there with him, with Lee know. We went together... just a few hours ago.”
The manager tilts his head, now even more concerned. “There’s no Lee Know, Han. There never has been. The haunted house? I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no place like that around here.”
Han’s stomach tightens. “No... no, this can’t be right. There has to be a mistake. I was there with him.”
The manager gently places a hand on Han’s shoulder, trying to reassure him. “I don’t know what you’re remembering, Han, but there’s no one here but you. You’ve always been by yourself— no Lee Know, no haunted house.”
Han shakes his head violently, panic creeping in. “No, this isn’t true. I—I was with him. With Lee Know. He’s real. He’s supposed to be here.”
The manager looks at him sympathetically. “Han, calm down. I think you might be a bit overwhelmed. You’ve been working nonstop lately, and your mind’s probably playing tricks on you. Let’s get you some rest, alright? We’ll figure this out.”
Han reached for his phone, trying to steady his breath. It didn’t make sense. He quickly opened his contacts, but as his eyes scanned the list, confusion replaced the panic. The numbers and names in his phone weren’t familiar. There were people listed there, but none of them were the members of Stray Kids. Some of the names didn’t even sound familiar.
“Who are these people?” Han whispered, swiping through unfamiliar numbers. His fingers moved shakily over the screen, trying to find something that made sense. But nothing fit. The contacts were full of strangers—names he didn’t recognize, faces that felt foreign.
Panic rose within him again, but he quickly forced himself to calm down. His thoughts raced, trying to find some clarity in this bizarre situation. His eyes darted around the backstage area—empty but organized. Everything looked ready for a performance.
The staff member stepped forward, clearly eager to get Han moving. “Your concert is about to start. You should get ready.”
A concert? Han blinked, his brain scrambling to keep up with everything. He couldn’t afford to let his panic show. Not now. He had to be professional. He had to keep it together. He was an idol, after all, and idols didn’t falter.
“Right… my concert.” Han took a deep breath and pushed the fear aside. “Where can I find my outfit?” he asked, trying to sound calm. The staff member nodded and directed him to a nearby dressing room.
Han moved quickly, his feet almost mechanical as he walked into the small space. His reflection in the mirror seemed surreal, like a stranger staring back at him. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady his nerves.
Taking a few more deep breaths, he stepped into the outfit that had been set out for him. As he examined the clothes, something struck him—something that felt familiar. The outfit, the colors, the design—it was exactly what he would wear for a Stray Kids performance. But… there were no Stray Kids here. There was no one to share the stage with.
He took a deep breath and tried to focus. He needed to find out what kind of performance he was about to give. He had to make it through this, no matter how strange everything seemed.
Han looked around the room until he spotted a sheet of paper on the table. It was a setlist. His setlist. He quickly scanned through it, the sinking feeling from earlier slowly lifting.
The songs listed were his own—songs he had written and performed in (maybe) "another" universe, with Stray Kids. In this strange reality, they existed here too. He would still sing the songs he loved, the ones he had poured his heart into.
A sense of relief washed over him. This place- universe was different, yes. But the music—his music—was the same. His heartbeat steadied. He could still perform. He could still do this.
For the next few minutes, Han focused on preparing himself. He ran over the lyrics in his head, mentally rehearsing every move. The stage was waiting for him, and though the reality he was in was foreign and unsettling, he had to push that aside for now. He would perform the concert. He would make it through. He wouldn’t let the strangeness of this universe break him.
As the time to perform drew nearer, Han took one last look in the mirror, steadying himself. He knew this wouldn’t be easy, but it was the only thing he could do now. He had to keep moving forward, even if everything around him felt like it was falling apart.
The staff member returned and gave him a nod, signaling that it was time.
Han straightened up, his heart pounding, but his resolve hardening. He was going to get through this. He was going to do his best.
And with that, he walked toward the stage, the curtain about to rise on a concert in a universe where Stray Kids didn’t exist. But Han knew something—he would find a way back to them. He had to.
***
After the concert ended, Han immediately looked for his manager. "C-can you take me to this address? This is the haunted house I was at today. Please, there's something I need to find..." he pleaded, his voice trembling.
The manager didn't question further, sensing Han's desperation but attributing it to exhaustion. They arrived at what Han was sure was the haunted house's location. His breath hitched in his throat as they pulled up to the building. The place was completely different—no eerie decorations, no creaking doors, no ominous vibe. Instead, it was a sterile, white hospital, cold and uninviting. The sign outside, glowing under the streetlights, read St. Agnes Medical Center.
Han blinked, feeling his heart sink to his stomach. This was wrong. This wasn’t what he was looking for. This was the opposite of everything he had imagined.
The manager noticed his discomfort and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Han, it’s okay. I know you’ve been through a lot. Maybe you're just disoriented. Let’s go back. We can take a break and figure things out.”
But Han’s thoughts were too scattered. His mind raced as he looked at the sterile walls, the glowing hospital sign—it felt like a nightmare that wasn’t his own. "No," he said in a quiet voice, his hands gripping the edges of his jacket. "I need to go inside."
Without waiting for the manager’s reply, Han grabbed his mask from his pocket, pulling it over his face. He didn’t want anyone to recognize him—not now, not when everything felt so upside down. His steps were hurried, driven by something more than curiosity. He was searching for something, anything, that would make sense of the chaos swirling in his head.
Aksara