Chapter Text
The city was quiet that early in the morning, streets still slick from overnight rain. Inside the company vans, Stray Kids were half-asleep, heads leaning against the windows or slumped over one another. Their recent comeback had left them exhausted—long rehearsals, tight schedules, and a concept that demanded more than usual. Clothes were lighter, stage choreography more revealing, and the strict diets the company enforced made even the smallest physical exertion feel heavy.
Hyunjin’s fingers twitched as he adjusted his jacket over his bare chest. “I… I can’t believe they make us do this…” he muttered under his breath, eyelids drooping.
Felix yawned, muffling it with the back of his hand, his own energy drained. Han had already nodded off, head leaning lightly on Changbin’s shoulder. Seungmin blinked once, then twice, fighting to stay awake, while Jeongin curled into a small ball in the corner, trying to ignore the hunger pangs gnawing at his stomach.
Chan, sitting upright, tried to keep watch, but his body fought him. “Just… ten more minutes,” he whispered to himself. “…I can’t fall asleep…”
And then, like a soft fog spreading through the air, it hit them. Heavy, gentle… lulling. A strange, chemical sweetness in the air made their eyelids feel impossibly heavy.
“What…?” Hyunjin mumbled before his words dissolved into a yawn.
Seconds later, one by one, they all succumbed. Heads tipped, arms fell limp, and even Chan’s tight hold on alertness slipped. The van’s hum became a lullaby, a soft, uninterrupted darkness swallowing them as the city passed by, oblivious to the fact that Stray Kids were no longer in control of where they were or who was watching.
By the time the first light of dawn touched the streets, they were gone from the company’s schedule, sleeping or perhaps trapped in a carefully orchestrated plan they wouldn’t understand until much later.
Morning came quietly to the city, traffic resuming, staff clocks ticking in, routines restarting as if nothing were wrong. Messages went unanswered. Names were quietly removed from call sheets. Somewhere between night and day, eight lives slipped out of reach—unnoticed at first, untraceable by the time anyone realized they were missing.
Consciousness returned slowly, painfully, the kind that dragged itself upward instead of waking cleanly.
Chan’s eyes snapped open first. Dim light filtered through a high window, painting the concrete floor in pale streaks. His wrists burned where they were tied, and his throat felt dry.
“W-where…?” he whispered, voice hoarse.
Hyunjin stirred beside him, blinking rapidly. His stomach twisted and his chest felt heavy. “…I can’t move…”
Felix’s head lolled to the side as he took in the space, wide-eyed. The warehouse was empty, vast, and cold. The faint smell of metal and dust filled his nose. Jeongin tested the ropes around his wrists, grimacing as he realized they were secure.
Lee Know cleared his throat, swallowing hard. “We’re… tied up?” His voice was quiet, tight.
Changbin’s hands flexed, trying to push against the restraints, but they didn’t budge. A flicker of panic crossed his face. Han’s breaths came fast and shallow, each one more urgent than the last.
Seungmin’s eyes darted around the room, searching for exits or anyone else, but there was nothing—just shadows stretching along the walls.
A long silence followed, broken only by the occasional shuffle or hiss of nervous breath. Fear settled over them like a weight. They were exhausted, restrained, and completely alone.
“…This isn’t real,” Hyunjin muttered under his breath, voice trembling.
They glanced at each other, wide-eyed, hearts pounding, realizing—slowly, painfully—that they had no idea where they were, who had brought them here, or what would happen next.
The silence pressed in around them, thick and suffocating, broken only by shallow breaths and the faint creak of the building settling. Each of them searched the room for something familiar—a mark, a sound, anything—but found only bare walls and uncertainty. Panic threatened to rise, sharp and uncontrollable, yet no one dared speak it aloud.
Then it came.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed across the concrete. The boys froze, hearts hammering.
From the shadows, figures appeared—tall, imposing, faces unreadable, hands resting on the holsters at their hips. Guns glinted in the pale light.
Chan swallowed hard, instinctively trying to protect the others. “W-what… who are you?” His voice cracked.
Felix’s fingers trembled. “S-sasaengs… paid for this, right? That’s the only explanation…”
Hyunjin’s stomach twisted. “They… they want to hurt us.”
Jeongin’s hands flexed against the ropes, but he stayed frozen, too scared to move. Han’s breaths came more shallow and even faster. Even Seungmin, normally calm, stiffened in shock.
Then, from the corner of the room, another figure appeared—slightly taller, calm, mask covering her face. She didn’t rush. She didn’t yell. But the way she walked, deliberate and controlled, made every boy stiffen further.
The guns, the silence, the shadows—it was enough to make them believe the worst. That this wasn’t a random kidnapping. That someone had paid handsomely for this. That they were in serious danger.
Chan’s mind raced. “…We’re… going to die, aren’t we?”
Not a word was spoken in response. The presence alone—masked, unflinching, and backed by armed bodyguards—was enough to make the warehouse feel like a cage.
Hyunjin’s whisper barely carried. “…This is… real, isn’t it?”
The others nodded slightly, too afraid to speak louder. Their world, their schedules, their idols’ lives—it all felt suspended in a terrifying uncertainty.
The air inside the room was thick, every sound amplified: the hum of electricity, the soft shuffle of shoes, the barely controlled breathing of eight people trying not to panic. No one knew what came next, only that whatever it was would change everything.
Footsteps approached—measured, unhurried. A shadow crossed the light, steady and deliberate, as if the moment had been rehearsed long before they arrived.
The masked woman stopped a few steps in front of them.
Up close, the silence was worse. No shouting. No rushed movements. Just control.
“If you listen,” she said calmly, her voice steady and emotionless, “you live.”
Every single one of them stiffened.
Chan’s breath caught in his throat. Changbin’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Felix’s eyes flicked, uncontrollably, to the weapons around the room.
“If you don’t,” she continued, almost casually, “then we have a problem.”
She shifted slightly—and her hand moved.
Not fast. Not aggressive. Just enough.
Her fingers rested on the grip of the gun strapped securely to her thigh.
The metal was unmistakable.
Han felt his stomach drop. Jeongin let out a tiny, broken sound before clamping his mouth shut. Hyunjin’s hands curled into fists in his lap, nails biting into his palms.
Seungmin swallowed. “…W‑we’ll do whatever you want.”
The woman tilted her head, studying them. Measuring.
“That’s good,” she said. “Because this only works if you cooperate.”
One of the bodyguards took a step forward, the sound of his boots echoing too loudly in the room.
Chan nodded quickly, fear sharp in his eyes. “We’ll comply. All of us.”
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then her hand dropped away from the gun.
“Smart choice.”
But the fear didn’t leave.
Because they all knew, one wrong move, one wrong word, and that gun wouldn’t stay holstered.The awareness settled over them at once, cold and heavy, forcing every muscle to go rigid. No one shifted. No one spoke. Even blinking felt too loud in the tense stillness.
Han’s breathing hitched sharply. His hands shook violently against the ropes, wrists chafed and raw. His chest rose and fell too fast.
“I—I can’t… I can’t breathe!” he gasped, eyes wide with terror.
The others froze, still tied up. Even Chan, protective as ever, didn’t move. Hyunjin’s stomach twisted, Felix’s fingers trembled, and Jeongin whimpered quietly. No one dared to speak. The bodyguards in the corners stood like statues, arms crossed, weapons at the ready.
Lee Know’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t watch Han like this. “I… I’ll do anything,” he said sharply, voice low but steady, “if you just help him.”
The masked woman’s eyes flicked toward him. “Anything?”
“Yes,” Lee Know said firmly, swallowing. “Anything. Just—please, help him.”
The woman studied him for a long moment. Then one of the bodyguards stepped forward, knife in hand, and carefully cut the ropes binding Han’s wrists.
Han collapsed forward as much as the remaining restraints allowed, trembling, trying to catch his breath. Lee Know instinctively braced him, even though his own hands were still bound.
The other members stayed frozen in place, tied up, hearts hammering, unsure whether to move or stay perfectly still.
The masked woman said nothing. She just gave a small nod and signaled the bodyguard to lead Han away, keeping the others restrained.
The silence that followed was heavy. Fear pressed down on them all. The ropes around their wrists reminded them they weren’t free, none of them were, but at least one of their own was being helped.
No one spoke as Han was pulled gently away. Chan kept his eyes on him until the doorway swallowed his figure, committing the sight to memory just in case it was the last reassurance he would get. The room felt emptier without him, the quiet sharper, every second stretching too long.
Han’s knees shook violently as the bodyguards led him into the smaller room. His wrists were free now, but his hands trembled as he collapsed onto the floor, fingers clutching at his clothes.
Han’s breathing came in sharp, uneven pulls, his shoulders shaking as he curled in on himself. His wrists were free now, but his body didn’t seem to realize it yet—every muscle still locked like the ropes were there.
Anna stayed close, not crowding him, but close enough that he could feel the warmth of her presence.
“Hey,” she said softly. Not sharp. Not cold. “Look at me, Han.”
His eyes flicked up for half a second before dropping again.
“You’re okay,” she continued, voice low and steady. “You’re not dying. You’re not going to disappear. You’re safe right now.”
His lips trembled. “I—I don’t want to die,” he whispered, the words barely making it out. “Please… I don’t want to—”
“I know,” Anna said immediately, cutting off the spiral before it could take hold. She reached out slowly, deliberately, giving him time to pull away—he didn’t. Her fingers closed gently around his hand, grounding. “That’s why I’m here.”
She guided him through it without calling it a technique.
“Tell me five things you can see,” she said.
His voice shook, but he answered.
“Good. Four things you can feel.”
Her thumb brushed small circles into his palm.
“Three things you can hear.”
His breathing slowed.
“Two things you can smell.”
“One thing you can taste.”
By the end, his chest still ached—but the panic had loosened its grip.
Only then did she speak again.
“Han,” she said quietly, “if I could guarantee you would walk out of this alive… would you do something for me?”
He swallowed hard. “…Anything.”
Anna nodded once.
“You’re here because people thought you were being worked into the ground,” she said. “The comeback. The dieting. The lack of sleep. The pressure. People saw it. STAYs saw it.”
His brows knit together, confusion replacing fear.
“They paid me,” she continued evenly. “Yes—the mafia. 10 days. Somewhere safe. No schedules. No cameras. No company breathing down your necks. Just rest.”
Han stared at her. “10…..days?”
“Yes.” Her voice softened even more. “10 days where you don’t have to be strong.”
His shoulders sagged despite himself.
Then she leaned in slightly, eyes locking onto his.
“But this only works if the others don’t know,” she said. “They can’t. If they do, everything collapses. Scandal. Chaos. People get hurt.”
His breath hitched. “…You want me to lie to them.”
“Yes,” Anna said plainly. “If you lie—if you play along—I guarantee you will survive this. You go back to them. You rest. You live.”
“And if I don’t?” His voice was barely audible.
Her grip tightened just a little—not painful. Intentional.
“Then I hurt you,” she said calmly. “Not enough to kill you. Enough to remind you why lying is better.”
She loosened her hand again immediately.
“You don’t want to die,” she said gently. “So choose to be safe.”
Han closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were wet—but steady.
“…Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll lie.”
Anna smiled, small, almost fond.
“Good,” she said. “Then let’s get you back to your family.”
The main room felt impossibly quiet, except for the soft shuffle of ropes and the occasional nervous breath. The boys sat tied up, shoulders tense, eyes wide, hearts pounding. Every shadow seemed larger than it was, every creak of the floorboard sharper, as if the room itself were holding its breath.
Lee Know rubbed at his wrists, jaw tight, staring at the floor. His chest felt heavy. He couldn’t stop thinking about Han—the panic he had seen earlier—and it made the fear in him twist tighter.
“W-what’s happening to him?” Hyunjin whispered, voice shaky.
Felix shifted slightly, muttering under his breath, “I-I don’t know, but this is… this is bad…”
Changbin’s hands flexed against the ropes. Chan tried to keep his composure, but the tightness in his throat betrayed him. Even Jeongin, normally the calm one, was visibly tense, glancing toward the door every few seconds.
The silence stretched painfully, broken only by their own anxious breathing. The thought that someone—or something—was making decisions for them, controlling every moment, made the warehouse feel like a cage.
Then the door opened, and Anna stepped in, mask on, calm and deliberate.
“She’s back…” Hyunjin whispered, flinching slightly at the subtle click of her boots on concrete.
Anna’s gaze swept the room. “Lee Know said he’ll do anything to help Han.”
Lee Know swallowed, eyes wide. “I… I’ll do anything,” he stammered.
Anna nodded. “Good. Then we’ll start with something simple. You’re going to film a video.”
Lee Know’s stomach twisted. “A… video?”
“Yes,” Anna said gently but firmly. “A Bubble message. You’ll say that you know people are looking for you—police, company, STAYs—but don’t do anything drastic. If they act reckless or push too hard, you could get hurt.”
Lee Know hesitated, glancing at the other members, all still tied up and tense. “…Okay.”
The bodyguards handed him a small camera, and with Anna guiding him, he recorded the video, voice shaky but steady enough. She watched over his shoulder, making small adjustments to help him look natural—scared, tired, but not panicked.
Once the video was finished, Anna gave a small nod. “Good. That’s done. You did well.”
A few minutes later, the door opened again. Han walked in, hands free, shoulders less tense, chest rising and falling in steadier breaths.
The boys’ eyes went wide. Felix’s lips parted in relief. Hyunjin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Chan’s hands unclenched slightly.
Han moved carefully toward them, still a little unsteady from his panic, but calmer now. “Hey,” he murmured softly.
Without thinking, he leaned over and hugged each of them briefly, awkwardly because of the ropes, his forehead brushing against theirs. Even tied up, they could feel the comfort radiating off him.
“You’re okay,” Lee Know whispered, voice still tight but calmer.
Han gave a small nod, finally sitting down in front of them, still close enough to be grounding. “I’m okay. See? I’m okay,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
The room felt a little less suffocating. The ropes still bound them. The warehouse was still cold and guarded. But for the first time since the kidnapping, the tension had softened just a little, enough that the boys could breathe, if only slightly.
Eyes darted around, still alert, still wary, but for a heartbeat they allowed themselves to feel something close to relief. Even the smallest movement—a shift in posture, a glance at a friend—felt almost normal, almost safe.
Anna stepped away from the tied-up boys, phone in hand. With a few taps, Lee Know’s video went live on Bubble.
The boys stayed frozen. Changbin’s jaw clenched tightly, fists gripping the ropes. Seungmin’s sharp eyes flicked nervously between the phone and the shadows in the room. Jeongin hunched slightly, trying to make himself smaller, glancing at the ceiling. Even Felix and Hyunjin sat tensely, waiting.
“Done,” Anna said softly, almost casually.
Before anyone could speak, another phone rang sharply. Everyone flinched.
Anna answered immediately, putting it on speaker. Her tone shifted—sharp, controlled, almost mocking.
“Yes,” she said plainly. “I have them.”
A tense pause. The voices on the other end were authoritative, clipped, commanding—Interpol.
“No, you won’t find them,” Anna continued, eyes sweeping over all of them. “Why? I needed them. Assets like this… they don’t stay unclaimed forever.”
Changbin swallowed hard, panic tightening in his chest. Seungmin’s eyes flicked nervously to Lee Know. Jeongin whimpered under his breath, voice barely audible.
“For what?” the voice pressed.
Anna’s gaze lingered on them, cold and deliberate. “People pay for many things,” she said vaguely. “Their image. Their obedience. Their—” She paused, just long enough to make them squirm. “—compliance.”
Han’s stomach churned, heart racing, but somewhere deep inside he reminded himself: This isn’t real. This is… a controlled vacation. They’re here to rest, not to hurt us.
He forced himself to breathe, though every twitch of her hand, every glint of her gun, made his chest tighten. Still… her presence… it’s scary. She’s calm, but it’s like she could make anything happen.
Anna reached into her coat and snapped a photo of them—all eight, eyes wide, clearly alive.
“Proof of life sent, and don’t even try to trace it.” she said lightly, sliding her phone back into her pocket.
The room was thick with tension. Changbin’s hands flexed helplessly, Seungmin’s jaw tightened, and Jeongin’s eyes darted nervously around the warehouse.
Anna tilted her head, voice low and cutting. “They’re looking. Interpol. Your company. STAYs.”
She tapped the gun strapped to her thigh once. “And they won’t find you.”
Han swallowed, still uneasy, but the rational part of his mind whispered again: It’s not real. She’s protecting us… in her own way. Just follow the rules.
The others didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The fear was real, but so was the unspoken understanding: every word, every twitch, could change what happened next.
Their eyes stayed fixed on Anna, hearts hammering, breaths shallow. Each second stretched, heavy with possibility and danger, and the warehouse felt impossibly large and silent at the same time.
Anna finally turned, calm and collected, as if the tension she’d created was just another part of the day.
Her gaze swept over the tied-up boys. “If I untie you,” she said softly but firmly, “will any of you try to run?”
Chan looked at the others, voice tight but steady. “We… we won’t run.”
Lee Know’s jaw tightened. “We’ll stay.”
Hyunjin and Felix both nodded, still clutching their arms. Changbin’s fists flexed, Seungmin’s eyes darted nervously, and Jeongin hunched slightly, trying to make himself smaller.
Anna gave a small nod. “Good.” With a subtle gesture, the bodyguards stepped forward and cut the ropes.
Immediately, the boys scooted closer to each other, a quiet instinct to feel a fraction safer. Chan stayed near Lee Know, who rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. Hyunjin leaned slightly toward Felix, who flinched at the contact but didn’t move away. Changbin edged closer to Seungmin, while Jeongin huddled near Han, who shivered slightly but leaned into the group.
Moments later, the door opened, and two bodyguards carried in trays of food.
The boys froze for a heartbeat, unsure what to expect. But the aroma was gentle, nothing heavy or greasy—safe for their strict diets. Anna’s voice broke the silence.
“This is what you can eat safely,” she said softly. “Nothing greasy or spicy. Too much now, and you’d throw up.”
They didn’t hesitate for long. Hunger had won over fear.
Lee Know grabbed a piece of bread and bit into it quickly. Changbin hunched over his plate, shoveling rice and vegetables into his mouth. Hyunjin ate his portion methodically but fast, glancing at the door every few seconds. Felix tore into his sandwich, anxious and impatient. Seungmin nibbled carefully but with urgency. Jeongin’s hands shook slightly as he moved the food to his mouth. Han paused, then quickly followed the others, swallowing as fast as he could.
No one spoke. The only sounds were soft bites, the occasional clink of utensils, and the faint shuffle of the boys scooting closer together as if to anchor each other.
They ate quickly, driven by uncertainty. None of them knew when they’d get another meal. Each bite was almost mechanical, a necessity more than comfort.
When the trays were finally empty, they leaned back slightly, rubbing their bellies. Physically, they were full—more than full—but the emotional weight hadn’t eased. Their hearts still raced. Their hands trembled. Every noise in the room made them flinch.
Chan let out a small, almost humorless sigh, shoulders still tense. “I… I guess that’s enough for now,” he muttered.
Lee Know nodded, jaw tight. “Full….”
Hyunjin’s stomach settled, but his eyes were wide, scanning the room. Felix’s fingers flexed nervously. Changbin hunched slightly, Seungmin’s gaze darted toward the corners, and Jeongin hugged himself lightly.
Han shivered, leaning slightly into the group, hands still twitching. The food had satisfied their bodies, but the fear, the unknown, and the uncertainty of the next moments pressed down on all of them.
For the first time in over 2 months, they didn’t feel hungry after eating—but it was purely physical. Emotionally, they were still tense, still scared, and still very much aware of the warehouse, the bodyguards, and the masked presence that could return at any second.
Even small noises made them jump: a footstep, a door creak, the shuffle of a rope. Their bodies were alert, wired for danger, while their stomachs had finally stopped gnawing. Relief was a fragile thing, barely allowed to settle before suspicion took its place again.
At first, it was subtle.
Lee Know was the first to notice something was wrong. His limbs felt heavy—too heavy. He flexed his fingers, then frowned when the movement lagged, like his body was underwater..
No. No, no—
Changbin swallowed hard as warmth spread through his chest, his heartbeat slowing in a way that didn’t feel natural. That’s not just being full, he thought, panic blooming sharp and fast.
Hyunjin blinked, vision blurring at the edges. The room tilted slightly. We didn’t eat too much… His stomach felt fine, but his head felt wrong.
Felix tried to shift closer to the others, but his muscles barely responded. His breath caught. Why can’t I move properly?
Seungmin noticed the quiet first—not the room, but himself. His thoughts were slowing, slipping. He opened his mouth to say something, to warn them—but no sound came out.
Jeongin’s heart slammed against his ribs. His hands tingled, then went numb. It’s the food, he realized suddenly, fear spiking. It was drugged.
Han felt it too—and dread flooded him. He knew what this was. He wanted to tell them it would be okay, that it wasn’t what it looked like—but Anna’s warning echoed in his mind, sharp and cold.
Lie. Stay quiet.
Chan tried to sit up straighter, leadership instinct kicking in even as his body betrayed him. “Guys—” he tried to say, but the word dissolved on his tongue.
They looked at each other instead.
Wide eyes. Shallow breaths. Silent panic.
One by one, their bodies gave up.
Changbin slumped first, head tipping forward. Felix followed, barely managing to lean against Hyunjin. Jeongin sagged sideways, Seungmin’s shoulder catching him instinctively even as his own vision darkened.
Lee Know’s jaw clenched as he fought it—lost—then his head fell back against the wall.
Han was the last to go.
His thoughts blurred, fear tangling with reluctant trust. It’s okay, he told himself desperately. This is part of it. We’re not being hurt.
Still, as the darkness pulled him under, his chest tightened.
Because knowing it wasn’t real didn’t make it any less terrifying.
And then—
Nothing.
The room went quiet again, eight bodies slumped together on the floor, breathing slow and even, unaware of what would come next.
10:00–12:00 — Something Is Wrong
At first, it’s confusion.
Stray Kids didn’t appear at their 10 AM schedule. No live photos. No fan previews. No staff updates. STAYs refresh timelines again and again, convincing themselves it’s just a delay.
Maybe traffic.
Maybe technical issues.
They’ll show up late.
But by 10:30, worry creeps in.
By 11:00, it’s loud.
Group chats fill with screenshots of the empty venue. Fans compare timestamps. Someone points out none of the members have been active — not even Chan or Lee Know.Someone else says STAYs know their habits too well.
They know silence like this doesn’t happen.
By noon, panic is already simmering.
12:00 PM — Company Statement
The statement drops like a weight.
Short. Careful. Corporate.
“We have temporarily lost contact with Stray Kids during transportation to a scheduled activity this morning. We are currently confirming the situation and will provide updates.”
No apology.
No reassurance.
No explanation.
STAYs don’t calm down — they explode.
“Lost contact” isn’t a delay.
It isn’t normal.
It isn’t safe.
Hashtags start trending immediately.
#WhereIsStrayKids
#FindSKZ
#JYPERespond
And slowly, others begin to notice.
Afternoon — It Spreads Beyond STAYs
By mid-afternoon, other fandoms step in.
First with concern.
Then with action.
MOAs boost search posts.
ARMYs translate statements.
Carats share hotline numbers.
Even people who openly disliked Stray Kids join in.
They’ve seen the hate SKZ has taken for years — the criticism, the rumors, the constant scrutiny.
But this?
This crosses a line.
“I don’t stan them, but this is terrifying.”
“No group deserves this.”
“Eight people don’t just disappear.”
By 6:00 PM, it’s no longer a fandom issue.
6:00 PM — International News
The first international articles go live.
GLOBAL K-POP GROUP STRAY KIDS MISSING AFTER FAILING TO ARRIVE AT SCHEDULE
EIGHT MEMBERS UNACCOUNTED FOR — INVESTIGATION UNDERWAY
News outlets explain who Stray Kids are for audiences who’ve never heard of them. Photos flash on screens. Achievements are listed. Ages mentioned.
Eight young men.
One van.
Gone since morning.
People who don’t listen to K-pop read anyway.
People who don’t care about idols start caring about people.
8:30 PM — The Bubble Video
Just when fear peaks into something unbearable, a notification hits phones worldwide.
Lee Know posted on Bubble.
Relief floods in — then freezes.
The video is short. Unpolished. Wrong.
Lee Know looks exhausted. His posture is stiff. His voice doesn’t sound like him.
“We know… people are worried. Looking for us,” he says carefully.
“Please don’t… do anything drastic. Just wait.”
His eyes flick away from the camera once.
That’s all it takes.
STAYs don’t celebrate.
They don’t relax.
They know fear when they see it.
9:00 PM — Breaking News
Everything detonates at once.
BREAKING: STRAY KIDS CONFIRMED KIDNAPPED
AUTHORITIES STATE VIDEO WAS RECORDED UNDER DURESS
INTERNATIONAL INVESTIGATION LAUNCHED
Television cuts to emergency segments. Experts dissect the video. Words like coercion and threat are spoken out loud.
Social media becomes a flood.
STAYs sob openly.
Other fandoms lock arms with them.
Even people who once mocked Stray Kids now demand answers.
Because it doesn’t matter anymore if you like their music.
Or their concept.
Or them at all.
They’re missing.
They’re scared.
And they need to be found.
By the end of the night, one truth is undeniable:
Stray Kids got a lot of hate for a long time.
But now — the world wants them back.
The TV was already on when Anna stepped into the room, the muted sound rolling under the glowing crawl at the bottom of the screen. She didn’t sit. She stood, arms crossed, watching the way the news shifted as the story grew.
STRAY KIDS STILL MISSING — AUTHORITIES WIDEN SEARCH
COMPANY LOSES CONTACT WITH ARTISTS’ VEHICLE
She turned the volume up. Anchors spoke quickly but carefully, showing maps, timelines, and blurred images of the van and its last known route. Fans’ faces flashed on-screen—crying, holding banners, lighting candles. Hashtags crawled across the bottom of the screen: #FindSKZ, #WhereAreThey, #STAYsUnite.
A new segment began.
“Interpol has officially opened a case in cooperation with South Korean authorities,” the anchor said. Behind her, a spokesperson stepped to the podium, voice measured, neutral, but firm.
“We are taking this situation with the utmost seriousness. The missing individuals—eight young men—are talented performers, yes, but above all, they are young people with their whole lives ahead of them. To the parties responsible for their disappearance: we urge you to release them immediately. Violence or coercion will not be tolerated, and your actions are being monitored internationally. Their safety must be prioritized. Any harm to them will escalate this investigation further and will not be without consequence.”
The words lingered, almost pleading—but the phrasing was deliberate. Careful. The part about their youth and potential was calculated to make whoever had them feel exposed, like their actions were cruel and unnecessary.
Anna’s lips curled into the tiniest smirk.
Manipulation works best when it seems sincere.
The screen shifted to a live feed of the Interpol operations center: dozens of officers monitoring maps, security cameras, and digital communications. Analysts typed furiously, coordinating with local Korean authorities, plotting movements, triangulating signals, and marking potential mafia networks. International cooperation had turned this into a case no single country could contain.
Anna didn’t flinch. She leaned back in her chair, eyes flicking between the Interpol banners and the frantic headlines.
The voice on the TV continued:
“We are using every available resource to locate the missing individuals. This includes international monitoring of digital communications, financial tracking, and liaising with law enforcement worldwide. We urge any parties involved to consider the consequences of their actions carefully and release the individuals immediately.”
Anna tapped her fingers together, almost like she was applauding softly. Every move the authorities made only confirmed that the world was panicking exactly as it should—scouring every avenue, analyzing every lead, desperate and blind.
A secure call buzzed on her phone. She answered without hesitation.
“Yes,” she said calmly. “I’m watching.”
A pause on the line. Controlled, professional voice: “They’re taking this global. Do you have full control?”
“Completely,” she said. “They’ll look everywhere except where they should.”
She ended the call and leaned back again. On the screen, the Interpol statement repeated for clarity: “These are eight young men with their whole lives ahead of them. Release them immediately.”
Somewhere far away, eight boys slept, oblivious to the international spotlight, to the headlines, to the carefully worded pleas meant to manipulate whoever had them.
Anna watched silently, making sure every move went according to plan. Outside, the world scrambled, but inside, the operation moved like clockwork.
Because panic, exposure, and the illusion of threat were as useful as any weapon she carried.
The van’s tires hummed steadily against the empty road. Inside, eight bodies were slumped in their seats, unconscious. Chan, Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, Lee Know, Han, I.N, and Changbin were all there, still and quiet, unaware of the miles passing beneath them as the vehicle carried them closer to safety.
Anna sat in the corner of the van, arms folded, staring silently out the window. She didn’t say anything—no one spoke. The quiet was absolute, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional shuffle of a bodyguard checking restraints.
When they finally reached the mansion, the unloading was methodical. No rush, no mistakes. The boys were lifted carefully, still limp from sedation, and carried inside. Anna’s gaze swept over each one as they were set down on the floor of a smaller room.
It wasn’t lavish—it didn’t need to be. But it was warm.
Mattresses covered every inch of the floor, piled high in layers. Blankets draped over corners and edges, soft and inviting. Pillows were stacked, some shaped like animals, others like simple squares. Stuffed animals were tucked between the mattresses as if they’d been waiting for them. It looked almost like a giant nest.
Anna stepped back, observing silently.
God… they’re so small when they’re asleep like this, she thought. Especially Han. He looks like he could break if someone even breathed too hard next to him.
A pang of guilt twisted in her chest. She had kidnapped them. Eight young men—talented, fragile, exhausted—and she had been the one to pull them from their lives.
But…
They needed a break. They needed this. 10 days away from schedules, cameras, constant pressure. Their bodies, their minds—hell, their entire lives—have been pushed too hard.
Her fingers curled around her arm. She hated how easy it had been. The sedative in the air, the timing of the van, the fact that no alarms had gone off. They had been so tired, so careful because of the comeback schedules and strict dieting—they didn’t even struggle much.
God… how easy it was. And how guilty that makes me feel.
She bent slightly, smoothing a stray pillow closer to Han without touching him too roughly.
But… they’ll be safe here. They’ll rest. They’ll eat. They’ll sleep without worrying about cameras or fans or schedules. Maybe when they wake up, they’ll understand—even if they hate me for it at first.
The room smelled faintly of the fabric softener she had sprayed over the blankets, mixed with the subtle scent of the boys’ cologne and shampoo. It was domestic, soft, almost unreal compared to the cold streets and the van ride.
Anna sank into a chair against the wall, watching the nest carefully. Every rise and fall of their chests made her chest tighten.
Especially Han, she thought again. He’s the one I can’t stop worrying about. The panic, the trembling… I’ll make sure he’s okay.
Outside the door, her bodyguards remained alert, weapons ready. Inside, eight boys slept, oblivious.
Anna exhaled softly.
10 days, she repeated in her mind. 10 days, and they’ll be safe. I hope they know how much they needed this—even if they don’t yet.
She leaned back, eyes still on them, the quiet of the nest room wrapping around her as tightly as the blankets around the boys.
And for the first time all day, she allowed herself to hope it might work.