The following morning, the cassette tape lay in the center of the conference table.
No one had played it.
Not yet.
Minji, Hana, Joon, the company executives, and the security investigators all stared at it in silence.
The tape was old, its clear plastic slightly yellow with age.
A small white label was attached to one side.
In neat handwriting were the words:
“For Minji…
when she’s ready.”
The investigator carefully picked it up.
“Our forensic team examined it.”
“No fingerprints?”
“There were fingerprints, but they’re too old to identify.”
“What about the handwriting?”
“We’re still comparing it with archived Project Starlight records.”
Minji swallowed nervously.
“So…
can we listen to it?”
The investigator nodded.
“I think it’s time.”
The tape clicked into an old cassette player.
For several seconds, only static filled the room.
Then…
A child’s laughter.
Minji’s eyes widened.
She knew that laugh.
Another voice followed.
“You always laugh when you win.”
“I do not!”
“You do.”
The room became completely silent.
Minji slowly covered her mouth.
“That’s…”
“My voice,” she whispered.
The recording continued.
“We’re going to become famous someday.”
“Of course we are.”
“And when we perform on the biggest stage in the world…”
“…we’ll meet again.”
The second child laughed.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
A few seconds of silence passed before the boy spoke again.
“My name is Jiho.”
“And I’m Minji.”
The tape ended with both children counting together.
“One…”
“Two…”
“Dream big!”
The cassette clicked to a stop.
No one in the room spoke.
Even the investigators looked emotional.
Minji wiped away tears she hadn’t realized were falling.
“I forgot all of it…”
Joon gently placed a box of tissues beside her.
“You remembered now.”
She nodded slowly.
“I remembered.”
Later that afternoon, the investigators returned with another discovery.
“We found records from the final Project Starlight camp.”
A thick folder was placed on the table.
Inside were attendance lists, instructor reports, competition schedules, and handwritten notes.
Most of the pages had faded with time.
One report immediately caught Minji’s attention.
Participant 17 – Han Jiho
Outstanding musical talent.
Excellent pianist.
Natural leader.
Recommended for advanced scholarship.
Status…
The line beneath had been blacked out.
Completely.
Someone had intentionally covered it with thick black ink.
“Why would they erase that?” Yuri asked.
“No idea,” the investigator replied.
“But it wasn’t done recently.”
“The ink is at least ten years old.”
Someone had hidden Jiho’s record long before Minji became an idol.
That evening, Minji couldn’t stop thinking about the tape.
She walked onto the rooftop of the company building.
The city sparkled below, alive with traffic and neon lights.
A cool breeze carried the distant sounds of Seoul.
The rooftop door opened.
Joon stepped outside carrying two cups of coffee.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
She smiled faintly.
“You know me too well.”
He handed her a cup.
They stood side by side without speaking.
Finally, Minji broke the silence.
“I forgot my best friend.”
“You were a child.”
“I still forgot.”
Joon looked at the city.
“Memory is strange.”
She looked at him.
“What if remembering hurts?”
He smiled gently.
“Then you won’t have to face it alone.”
His words settled warmly in her heart.
She wasn’t alone anymore.
Not with her members.
Not with her family.
Not with Joon.
Meanwhile, inside the abandoned music academy, the elderly caretaker unlocked a hidden office.
Dust floated through the beam of his flashlight.
He carefully opened another locked cabinet.
Unlike the first one, this cabinet contained photographs, journals, and student evaluations.
At the very back rested a sealed envelope.
Across the front were three handwritten words.
Open Only If Necessary.
His hands trembled as he opened it.
Inside was a letter.
He began reading quietly.
“If you’re reading this, it means the truth could no longer stay hidden.
Project Starlight didn’t end because of money.
It ended because someone inside betrayed the children we promised to protect.”
The caretaker’s face turned pale.
He continued reading.
“One child disappeared before the final showcase.
Officially, the records say his family moved away.
That wasn’t the truth.”
The letter ended abruptly.
The final page was missing.
“Torn out…” the caretaker whispered.
Whoever had taken that page had also taken the most important answer.
Across the city, a hooded figure sat inside a parked car, watching LUNA5’s company building from a distance.
On the passenger seat lay an old scrapbook filled with newspaper clippings.
Most of the pages featured Minji.
But hidden near the back was a faded photograph of two smiling children.
Minji.
And Jiho.
The figure gently touched the photograph before closing the scrapbook.
“This time,” they whispered softly,
“I’ll make sure the promise is kept.”
The engine started.
The car disappeared into the night.
Far above the city, the lights of the practice rooms still glowed.
Minji had taken one more step toward the truth.
She still believed the mystery was about her childhood.
She didn’t yet realize that Jiho’s disappearance—and the collapse of Project Starlight—were connected to a secret that powerful people had tried to bury for more than a decade.
And that secret was finally beginning to surface.