No Longer Human

I never knew that my life would turn out like this.

Just a few minutes ago, I was walking down the street, thinking about what to do for tomorrow’s schedule.

It was another jam-packed day of producing, composing, dance practice, and concept planning. But now here I am, sprawled out on the road, my pulse faint, my breaths getting weaker with every second.

Damn it.

I should have confessed to Jihoon.

Maybe it would have ruined everything—our friendship, my career. Or maybe keeping it to myself was the right thing all along.

But still, I can’t help but wish I had a little more time with him.

And with the members.

But definitely more time with him.

Can Jeonghan even handle them all on his own? It’d probably be better to put Jihoon in charge, but Jihoon’s already overwhelmed with all the composing he has to do.

Maybe Wonwoo should lead? He’s calm, level-headed, and even though he’s never led before, I know he could handle it.

Ahh.

I wish Jeonghan would stop cheating in games. Some of us would like to win sometimes you know?

I wonder if Joshua will finally stop singing “Sunday Morning.” His voice is amazing, but honestly, I wanted to hear him try a different song once in a while. He sings that song way too much.

I hope Jun makes it big as an actor in China. His acting on the last drama was good, and I know he’ll only improve as he gains more experience.

And Hoshi... I hope he’ll look after Jihoon.

They’re best friends, after all.

But God, do they have to spend so much time together?

I get jealous sometimes watching them.

But even if I’m not around, at least Jihoon will have Hoshi by his side.

Wonwoo needs to open up a bit more.

He carries so much on his own, and I wish he’d let us in. I think he could finally let down his walls if he’d just talk to us.

Dokyeom—I hope he never changes. He’s one of the most energetic people I know, though it’d be better for his vocal cords if he could lower his volume a notch. He’s always shouting, and I don’t think his voice can keep up with him forever.

And Mingyu... stay as you are.

Be the face of the group, carry us forward. You’ve got talent, and I know you’ll go far if you keep pushing yourself.

Minghao, I hope you keep pursuing your passions, whether it’s martial arts, dance, or whatever else you fall in love with. I just want you to be happy.

And I never said this before, but I’m sorry to Seungkwan. Sorry you had to take on so much just to get our name out there. You were one of the younger ones, and I should’ve taken better care of you. But I’m thankful, too. You were one of the main reasons Seventeen is where we are now.

Vernon, you can stop hiding those Twix bars in the practice room. We all know you’ve got a stash there anyway.

And Dino—our youngest. Sorry for picking on you all the time, but you’re the best little brother we could’ve asked for.

Finally, there’s Jihoon.

My Jihoon.

Damn it.

We should have gone through with our “wedding” that day, even if it was just for laughs.

I wish I had taken that chance.

Ah.

I can feel myself losing consciousness.

It’s a strange feeling, drifting between awareness and emptiness.

I’m really dying, aren’t I?

I wish I wasn’t.

I wish I could have a little more time with them—with him.

But it’s too late now. I just hope the guys will be okay and that they’ll keep moving forward.

I guess this is goodbye from your leader.

For the last time, Say the Name, Seventeen!

The street stretched out in heavy silence, every corner was empty and lifeless. No cars passed by, no pedestrians wandered through— and only the faint, muffled hum of distant traffic drifted in from somewhere far off can be heard.

Seungcheol’s body lay sprawled on the cold pavement, still and alone, his life having slipped away in an unsettling silence.

He wasn’t just anyone, either.

Choi Seungcheol was a member of one of the world’s most famous bands, Seventeen, known by millions of people.

And yet here he was, motionless on the ground, the accident having gone unnoticed.

No onlookers gathered; no cries for help had rang out.

It was as if the city had collectively chosen to turn its back on him, to pretend that this accident had never happened.

The streetlights flickered weakly, casting pale circles of light that only emphasized the emptiness of the scene.

Shadows from nearby buildings stretched across the street, making everything feel even darker, heavier, as if the night itself had a role to play in keeping this moment hidden.

After a few long moments, a figure finally appeared, slipping out from the shadows on the far end of the street.

He moved with an eerie calm, his footsteps silent on the asphalt.

There was no hesitation, no hurry in his approach, it was as if he had all the time in the world.

Then he stopped, just beside Seungcheol, his gaze cool and assessing, studying the lifeless figure lying on the ground.

He knelt down, his movements unnervingly smooth, and leaned in close, observing Seungcheol’s face, now pale and lifeless.

Then his lips parted slightly, revealing a pair of fangs that glinted in the faint light, sharp and unmistakable. And with one swift, almost gentle motion, he lifted Seungcheol’s body, the weight of it looking like it was no more than a feather in his hands.

Cradling him with surprising ease, he turned, as silent as he had come, and walked back into the darkness, taking Seungcheol’s lifeless body with him.

But the street had remained as it was—empty, silent, as if nothing had happened, the only witness to the strange scene now the lingering shadows and the distant hum of a city unaware of what had happened under the cloak of the night.