There's no goin' home

by AyzuLK

Summary:

Tim Drake is now Tae-min.
He is an idol, a vigilante, a brother and a friend.
And now he is trying to heal.

or

Tae-min's life as an idol.

Notes:

During his time as an idol, Tae-min met all kinds of people. Some were as cutthroat as they came, which was almost comforting—he had grown up in Gotham’s high society, where cruelty was just another language, learned at his mother’s knee. He knew how to handle those people. Knew how to play the game.
The ones who were kind, though? They were the real mystery.

OR
Tae-min bumps on some idols from Stray kids, ENHYPEN and BTS

Chapter 1: Strange kid

During his time as an idol, Tae-min met all kinds of people. Some were as cutthroat as they came, which was almost comforting—he had grown up in Gotham’s high society, where cruelty was just another language, learned at his mother’s knee. He knew how to handle those people. Knew how to play the game.

The ones who were kind, though? They were the real mystery.

Tae-min didn’t know what to do with people who wanted to help without expecting anything in return. People who worried about him simply because they cared. It was a novelty, one that left him unsteady. Dealing with backstabbers was easier. Almost fun, even. A breath of fresh air in its familiarity.

But kindness? That was something else entirely.

He had spent too much time as a ghost. Too much time being overlooked, dismissed, or only seen when it was convenient for others. Sometimes, it was hard to remember how to be a boy, not just a shadow slipping through the cracks.

Even so, he was learning.

---

Bang Chan and Lee Know had been weaving their way through the crowded afterparty when they spotted something unusual—someone curled up behind a sofa, sound asleep.

Lee Know squinted. “Is that…?”

Bang Chan crouched down, immediately recognizing the small figure. “That’s Tae-min. The kid from Eclipse.”

Tae-min stirred slightly, mumbling incoherently, his face peaceful despite the exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders. Bang Chan hesitated before reaching out, shaking his shoulder gently and speaking in English. “Hey, mate, you okay?”

Tae-min’s eyelids fluttered open, hazy and disoriented. He blinked blearily up at Bang Chan, his expression unfocused. Then, in a quiet, drowsy murmur, he whispered, “Dick…?”

Bang Chan stilled.

Tae-min frowned slightly, his voice groggy, tinged with a raw vulnerability that made Bang Chan’s chest tighten. “Miss you…” he mumbled. “Why don’t you see me anymore…?”

Lee Know and Bang Chan exchanged a glance, concern passing between them. They didn’t know the full story, but they had seen the rumors—fragments of a fractured family, ties strained to the breaking point.

“Let’s find one of his members,” Lee Know said softly. “He can’t stay here like this.”

Bang Chan nodded, giving Tae-min another gentle shake. “Hey, Tae-min-ah, mate, let’s get you home, yeah?”

Tae-min made a barely audible sound of agreement, too exhausted to do anything else. They found Jiho a few minutes later, who sighed like this was a common occurrence and muttered something about how Tae-min always wandered off. Then, without hesitation, he crouched down and effortlessly lifted Tae-min onto his back.

As they watched Jiho carry him out of the party, Bang Chan exhaled, the uneasy weight in his chest lingering.

“Poor kid,” he murmured.

---

Bang Chan had been enjoying the evening, catching up with old friends at the gathering, when something near the bar caught his attention. A group of female idols—friends of his—stood stiffly, their smiles strained as a well-dressed man leaned in too close, his voice low, his presence just a little too insistent.

Before Bang Chan could step in, someone else already had.

Tae-min.

The youngest of Eclipse stood between the girls and the man, posture deceptively relaxed, hands tucked into the pockets of his designer jacket. His expression was unreadable, polite even, but there was something cold in his eyes. Something sharp.

“I think they’ve made it clear they’re not interested,” Tae-min said, his voice smooth but firm.

The man scoffed. “Relax, kid. We’re just talking.”

Tae-min tilted his head, studying him like he was something small and unimpressive. “You’re talking. They’re tolerating.” He smiled then—slow, deliberate. “That’s not the same thing.”

Bang Chan had seen idols handle situations like this before—awkward deflections, nervous laughter, a quiet retreat. But not this. Tae-min wasn’t just shutting it down. He was dismantling it.

The man’s sneer faltered, irritation flashing across his face. “Do you know who I am?”

Tae-min’s smile didn’t waver. “Do you know who I am?” he echoed, tone light but laced with something dangerous.

A pause. A flicker of doubt. Then, sensing the shift, the man scoffed and stepped back. “Whatever,” he muttered before slinking away.

The girls exhaled in relief, thanking Tae-min softly. He gave them a small nod before turning—only to find Bang Chan watching him.

“You handled that like you’ve done it a hundred times,” Bang Chan said, not accusing, just observing.

Tae-min met his gaze, something unreadable in his expression. Then, after a beat, he shrugged. “The company gave up trying to make me play nice. I already have an image as a savage Gothamite, so I can get away with things the others can’t.” He paused, his voice turning quieter. “And I know how to handle guys like that.”

Bang Chan frowned. “Tae-min…”

The younger idol leaned against the bar, exhaling softly. “Where I come from, if people think you're small, they’ll think you’re easy to take. It’s better if they see my teeth.” He smiled, baring them just slightly. “Let them know I can bite hard.”

And who was there to protect you?

Bang Chan swallowed, something uneasy settling in his chest. He didn’t ask the question burning at the back of his throat.

Han, standing beside him, shifted, his gaze just as unreadable. Bang Chan knew he was thinking the same thing. But neither of them asked.

Tae-min straightened, flashing them a half-smile—wry, knowing. “Don’t look so grim, hyungs. I’m not small anymore.”

No, Bang Chan thought. He wasn’t.

But that didn’t make it any less unsettling.

---

Felix had lost his members in the crowd again.

He sighed, scanning the room, but the flashing lights and overlapping conversations made it hard to focus. He weaved through the throng of people, searching—until he spotted someone else standing off to the side, scanning the crowd with the same lost expression.

Tae-min from Eclipse.

Felix made his way over. “Hey.”

Tae-min turned at the sound, blinking in surprise. “Felix-hyung?”

“You lost your members too?”

Tae-min let out a small sigh, his cheeks puffing out slightly. “Yeah.”

Felix grinned. “Wanna team up?”

Tae-min hesitated, then gave a tiny nod. “Please.” His voice dipped quieter. “It’s too loud here. I don’t like it.”

Felix’s smile faltered. Up close, Tae-min’s discomfort was obvious—the way his shoulders were tight, how he kept adjusting his sleeves, fingers curling and uncurling like he was grounding himself. His gaze flickered over the crowd too fast, like he was tracking every movement at once. It reminded Felix too much of how Han looked sometimes, right before a panic attack.

Without thinking, Felix reached out, taking Tae-min’s hand. “Let’s get out of here for a bit,” he said lightly, tugging him toward a quieter corner.

Tae-min tensed at first, then let himself be pulled along.

They wove through the venue, searching for their missing groups while talking to pass the time. Music, training, the chaos of events like this—things that felt safe. Slowly, the stiffness in Tae-min’s shoulders eased, his voice coming a little easier. His hands still twitched sometimes, fingers brushing against the fabric of his jacket, but he looked better.

Felix watched him carefully, noting the way Tae-min spoke—how he smiled, but never fully. There was something quiet about his sadness. Not the kind that demanded attention, but the kind that lingered, like a shadow he had learned to carry without complaint.

Felix had seen the things online—the rumors, the pieces of truth about Tae-min’s complicated history with his family. He remembered what Chan had said about finding him asleep at an afterparty, how he had murmured for his big brother in his sleep.

Right then and there, Felix decided his group should adopt Tae-min too.

Tae-min, entirely unaware of this decision, was just happy to have company.

Also, maybe—just maybe—he had a tiny crush on Felix-hyung.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

Eventually, they realized they had gotten even more lost.

Kwan and Lee Know had to find them .

---

Sunoo hated hospital check-ups. The sterile smell, the cold air, the too-white walls. It always made him feel small, fragile in a way he didn’t like to admit.

He sighed, kicking his legs idly as he sat in the waiting area. Across from him, another idol was slouched in a chair, hoodie pulled low over his face. Tae-min from Eclipse.

Sunoo hesitated before speaking. “You here for a check-up too?”

Tae-min lifted his head slightly. “Yeah. No spleen. My leader found out.”

Sunoo blinked. “Wait, what?”

Tae-min smirked. “Yeah. Lost it last year. Some old guy probably has it in a jar somewhere.”

Sunoo snorted. “What?”

“I mean, think about it,” Tae-min continued, completely deadpan. “A rich old man, a weird hospital, younger me under anesthesia… I wake up, no spleen. You can’t tell me it’s not floating in some creepy basement.”

Sunoo burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re terrible.”

Tae-min smirked. “It’s called coping, Sunoo-Hyung.”

Sunoo wiped at his eyes, still giggling. He hadn’t expected to laugh today, but here he was.

Tae-min studied him, then said casually, “You’re a good person.”

Sunoo blinked. “Huh?”

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Tae-min said, tilting his head. “It’s nice. But you’d get eaten alive back home.”

Sunoo huffed. “Good thing I don’t live there.”

Tae-min chuckled, a sharp little laugh. “Here it is not so different sometimes. Take care.”

Before Sunoo could respond, his members appeared, calling his name. When he turned back—

Tae-min was gone.

Just like that.

“Such a little weirdo.” He murmured with a smile.

---

Tae-min had a habit of disappearing at social gatherings. It wasn’t intentional (most of the time), but after years of enduring Gotham’s high-society galas, he had perfected the art of vanishing into the background.

Which was how he ended up underneath a large, decorated table in the middle of a very exclusive industry gathering, hugging his knees and enjoying the brief moment of solitude. The muffled sound of conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses filled the air, but under the table, it was quiet, warm, and safe.

He let out a soft sigh, his eyelids heavy. Maybe he could take a short nap. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Uh… hello?”

Tae-min blinked lazily and turned his head to see a pair of familiar eyes peering at him from the other side of the tablecloth. I.N, from Stray Kids, tilted his head, looking more amused than surprised.

“Hey,” Tae-min greeted, voice thick with exhaustion.

“What… are you doing under there?” I.N asked, crawling slightly closer, careful not to draw too much attention.

“Hiding,” He admitted shamelessly. “Too many people. Too much socializing. I need to recharge.”

I.N let out a soft laugh. “I get that. I used to do that at family events.”

“Yeah,” Tae-min muttered, resting his head against the table’s inner cloth. “I used to do this with my brother at galas. He’d smuggle me cookies, and we’d just wait until Bruce dragged us back out.”

Another voice joined them. “That actually sounds kind of nice.”

Tae-min turned slightly to see Taehyung from BTS crouching down beside them, lifting the tablecloth with an amused expression. “Did you two really think you could hide from everyone ? The second someone notices you’re gone, they’re gonna start looking.”

He groaned and buried his face in his arms. “Give me five minutes of peace before they find me.”

Taehyung hummed before sliding under the table to join them, crossing his legs comfortably. “I mean, it is kind of cozy under here.”

I.N grinned. “Welcome to our hideout.”

It didn’t take long for someone else to find them. Bang Chan, probably used to dealing with chaos, lifted the tablecloth and looked under it with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Of course it’s you three,” he sighed. “You’re lucky no staff have caught you.”

Tae-min peeked up at him. He liked him, he made him think of Dick when things were good. “If I act asleep, will you leave me alone?”

“No. I will probably carry you princess style.”

“Then I’m asleep.” Tim flopped dramatically onto his side and closed his eyes.

Bang Chan let out a laugh and shook his head. “You’re just like my members.”

“High praise.”

Just then, Namjoon appeared beside Bang Chan, glancing under the table with raised brows. “You know, I expected chaos tonight, but not this .”

Taehyung grinned. “Tae-ah started it.”

“Traitor-hyung,” Tae-min muttered sleepily.

Namjoon just sighed before looking at Bang Chan. “Should we just leave them?”

Bang Chan rubbed his temples. “At this point? Probably. I have to find Felix, he got lost again. Don’t go anywhere, you three.”

“Yes.” They chorused.

As the two leaders walked away, shaking their heads, I.N glanced at Tae-min, who was still curled up on the floor. “You really gonna sleep?”

Tae-min yawned. “Mhm. Call me if someone drags me out.”

Taehyung laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

He just hummed, already drifting. Under the table, in the quiet, he felt just a little bit like that kid who used to hide at galas, waiting for the night to pass with someone beside him.

---

Perched on the edge of a rooftop, Gwidam let out a slow sigh, watching the neon city lights below. The night was calm, for once, and beside him, Orphan sat cross-legged, flipping a knife between her fingers absentmindedly.

“I swear, I keep running into these idols who are just... weird.” Gwidam muttered.

She glanced at him, questioning.

“Like, they’re too nice,” he clarified. “Not fake-nice like some people in the industry. Just—genuinely good people. It’s unsettling.”

She smirked. “Too kind.”

“Exactly! They could’ve been from Metropolis,” he said, shaking his head. “And you know how those people are.”

Cass shuddered dramatically. “Sunshine people.”

They both fell silent for a moment, before Gwidam muttered, “Damian would hate it.”

They exchanged a look. Then, at the same time, both let out identical, exhausted groans.

“Why do I keep meeting them?” Tae-min complained.

Cass shrugged. “You attract light. Too gloom.”

Gwidam huffed, but didn’t argue. Because she was right.

 

Chapter 2: The greatest love story ever told

Summary:

Superboy saved the idol Tae-min.
People have a lot of things to say about it.

Is This Love? 

By Vicki Vale

Gotham and Metropolis fans are in a frenzy over the latest bizarre yet fascinating duo—Tae-min and Superboy. The two have been spotted together frequently after Superboy saved the idol (see page 12). According to hospital and industry sources, the hero personally insisted on staying close to the Runaway Wayne ward under the justification of ‘protection’ while the attack was being investigated.

Since then, they have been exchanging what can only be described as the most outrageously flirtatious banter. But is it real? Or just an inside joke gone too far?

Some fans are convinced it’s a performance—after all, both have a reputation for being incredibly sarcastic. Others argue that no one jokes like that without at least some feelings involved.

 

Here’s what people are saying:

 

“They’re basically a romcom waiting to happen.” —@batobsessed, Twitter

“If they’re not in love, they should be. Chemistry like that doesn’t come from nowhere.” —@superfangirl, Instagram

“ They’re messing with us. I refuse to believe Superboy, of all people, would fall for a K-pop idol.” —@justiceleagueforum, Reddit

 “I don’t know what’s going on there, and honestly? I don’t need to know.” — Hospital Staff on Seoul

“They act like an old married couple. I caught Superboy feeding him once. He claimed Tae-min had a ‘tragic injury’ preventing him from holding a spoon. Tae-min just went along with it. ” — Hospital Staff on Seoul

“You don’t just watch a soap opera like this.  The idol from Nebula and Superboy just fight for his attention.” — Hospital Staff on Seoul

Let's wait and see what the endgame is: the greatest love story ever told, or the greatest industry stunt?

Personally? I, and my viewers, bet on the first one. 

---

Mrs. Lee was exhausted, but there was no escaping the line of reporters outside the hospital. The company wanted them to see that Tae-min was alright after his discharge.

To be fair, Tae-min was handling it like a champ. He smiled, waved, and played his part. But, as expected, the moment he stepped toward the car, a reporter managed to corner him.

“Tae-min, people have been talking nonstop about you and Superboy! Are you two in a relationship?”

Tae-min smiled, adjusting his bag. “Ah. I’m just glad that he protected me all these days. He is an amazing hero.”

The reporter pressed. “Dick Grayson recently said he ‘absolutely ships it.’ Any comments?”

Tae-min sighed, as if this was the most exhausting thing he had ever dealt with. “Well, you see, Dick Grayson has a thing for romanticizing civilian and hero relationships.” He paused, smirking slightly. “Once upon a time, he even dated Nightwing.”

The press exploded.

---

Trending: Dickwing

@gothamtea: WAIT WHAT??? DICK GRAYSON DATED NIGHTWING??? 

@batfamstan: Superboy was not even the biggest scandal today, let’s be real.

@WayneTea: I KNEW IT! NOBODY BELIEVED ME!

@metropolisdaily: So we’re all ignoring the fact that Tae-min completely dodged the question?

@heroicgossip: Tae-min and Superboy are either soulmates or the best marketing team in existence. No in-between.

@theclarkkentreport: Superboy has NOT denied it. Just saying.

@batkidsunite:  LMAO. IMAGINE BEING BRUCE WAYNE RIGHT NOW. 

Notes:

Tae-min, your little shit

Chapter 3: Gotham Drama? In Our Industry?

At first, it was just whispers. Then, it was the only thing anyone could talk about.

Bang Chan had seen a lot during his years as a K-pop leader, but nothing could have prepared him for the absolute chaos that was Tae-min of Eclipse.

First, there was the whole Wayne family bombshell. Because apparently, Tae-min wasn’t just some regular idol—he was also an estranged son of one of the wealthiest, most controversial families in the U.S. And he hadn’t just quietly walked away—he had run away from Gotham, leaving behind reporters, socialites, and, most importantly, Bruce Wayne himself.

“Dude really woke up one day and thought, ‘Nah, I’m out’ and just left Gotham like that was an option,” Han commented as he scrolled through the latest headlines.

“If they start tracking him down, this could turn into a problem,” Changbin added.

And, of course, that’s exactly what happened.

Bruce Wayne showed up in New York and caused a spectacle. Security had to step in, Min-jae—the leader of Eclipse—was furious, and somehow, that still wasn’t the end of it. A few weeks later, Dick Grayson tried the same stunt in Japan. The problem? Gothamites don’t do things quietly. Within 24 hours, the entire world knew.

That same week, the internet exploded with theories, timelines, and in-depth video breakdowns of Tae-min’s entire Great Escape™.

“At this point, his life is basically a K-drama,” Seungmin sighed.

But that was just the beginning.

If the Wayne family drama wasn’t enough, then came Tae-min’s Gotham-style industry scandals.

“I respect it,” Yoongi said simply, sipping his coffee as they read through the latest controversy.

Because, while other idols handled industry issues behind closed doors, Tae-min had no patience for that. He called out a predatory producer on live television, publicly shamed a CEO into paying his artists properly, and had allegedly (but very believably) threatened a manager who mistreated trainees.

“He’s gonna get himself blacklisted,” Jimin muttered, though he looked half impressed.

“That’s assuming anyone can take him down before he takes them down first,” RM added, shaking his head. “This is the same guy who ran from Gotham. K-pop executives don’t stand a chance.”

And then… he got attacked.

“I thought this kind of thing only happened in movies,” Sunghoon admitted, scrolling through the news. “Like, seriously? A hit on an idol?”

But it wasn’t just an attack—it was an attempted kidnapping. Someone had wanted Tae-min gone. And they would have succeeded too, if it hadn’t been for Superboy showing up out of nowhere to save him.

“I need a minute,” Jay said, covering his face. “So now we have superheroes involved? In our world? Are we supposed to just accept this??”

“The kid’s from Gotham,” Jungwon reasoned. “Anything goes.”

Tae-min spent two weeks missing from the public eye. No appearances. No statements. No explanations. But instead of fading into obscurity, his legend only grew. Theories ran wild—was Superboy secretly his bodyguard? His boyfriend? Or was this whole thing just the tip of the iceberg for something even bigger?

“Honestly, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he just casually announced he was dating Superboy,” Heeseung sighed.

“Or that he’s secretly a vigilante himself,” Sunoo added.

Silence.

Chapter 4: The Legend of Red Robin’s Secret Love

Summary:

Red Robin saves Tae-min and people are wild about their tragic love story.

It had started as a simple plan. A logical, strategic maneuver to throw off any potential connections between Tae-min’s disappearance from Gotham and Red Robin’s eventual absence. He and Cass had sat down with Barbara before they left, outlining a timeline, predicting patterns of public speculation, and working out a system that would ensure no one would ever think Red Robin and Tae-min were the same person.

The Titans had been happy to help. Some were a little too happy.

“This is the funniest thing we’ve ever done,” Bart had declared, zipping into Red Robin’s gear and striking an exaggerated heroic pose. “Do I get to monologue? I feel like I should monologue.”

“No monologuing,” Conner had said, rolling his eyes. “Just patrol, look broody, and don’t do anything too flashy. We’re keeping up appearances, not launching a marketing campaign. You know what? You shouldn’t be on it, you’re way too short. Gimme.”

Despite the bickering, the plan had worked. For months after Tae-min had disappeared, Red Robin was still “seen” patrolling Gotham, handling business with the Titans, and even dropping in at the occasional Justice League meeting. Different Titans rotated under the mask, ensuring that no one could pinpoint when Red Robin actually left Gotham for good.

And for a while, it seemed like that would be the end of it. People knew Red Robin had eventually disappeared, but without a clear timeline, no one could definitively connect his exit to Tae-min’s.

Then Taiwan happened.

Eclipse was in the middle of their Asia Tour, and the Taipei show had been packed. Fans filled the stadium, chanting, screaming, waving their lightsticks in unison. Tae-min was glowing on stage, his voice strong, his movements sharp. He had just finished his solo when chaos erupted.

A group of masked men had broken through security, attempting to storm the backstage area. The audience barely had time to process what was happening before a dark figure dropped from the rafters, moving with terrifying speed.

The cameras caught everything.

Red Robin—agile, ruthless, and absolutely wrecking the would-be attackers. Within minutes, the men were on the ground, groaning in pain. Security arrived too late to do much of anything.

And then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, Red Robin turned toward Tae-min, touched his cheek to see if he was okay, gave him a lingering look, and vanished into the night.

The internet exploded.

---

@eclipsefan4ever: “GUYS. RED ROBIN JUST DROPPED OUT OF THE CEILING TO SAVE TAE-MIN AND THEN LEFT LIKE A LOVER IN A TRAGIC DRAMA.”

@waynewatcher: “Red Robin disappears from Gotham. Tae-min disappears from Gotham. Red Robin suddenly reappears just to save Tae-min in Taiwan?? Oh, we are COOKING tonight.”

 @batfamgossip: “So you’re telling me—Red Robin LEFT GOTHAM for love?? 

 @capedcrusadertea: “The way Red Robin touched Tae-min’s face before vanishing into the night. THE ANGST. THE DRAMA. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO RECOVER???”

 @lightstickwarrior: “Plot twist: Red Robin has been secretly managing Eclipse’s security this whole time. This is the K-pop x Gotham crossover I never knew I needed.”

 @rooftopromance: “No, but imagine it. Red Robin watching Tae-min from the rooftops every night, never revealing his face, just protecting him from the shadows, wishing things could be different but knowing they can’t—THIS IS CINEMA.”

 @batfamdrama: “No wonder Batman looks miserable these days. “

---

“This is getting out of hand,” Barbara said, scrolling through what could only be described as a digital wildfire.

Jason was crying. Actual tears.

“Oh my God,” he wheezed between laughter. “They think—they think Red Robin left Gotham because he fell in love with Tae-min and vowed to protect him in the shadows.”

“I mean,” Stephanie shrugged, barely holding back her own giggles. “It’s kind of poetic. Very tragic. Very romantic.”

Barbara looked three seconds away from a headache-induced coma. “It’s reckless,” she muttered. “Cass shouldn’t have used the suit.”

Damian, meanwhile, was watching the conspiracy unfold online with a frown. “Tt. If it keeps idiots from connecting Tae-min to Red Robin, then let them believe whatever foolish fantasy they want.”

Jason, wiping tears from his eyes, clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit, Baby Bat. ”

---

“I CAN’T BREATHE.” Bart was rolling on the floor, clutching his sides.

“Guys,” Tim grumbled, rubbing his temples. “It was an emergency, Cass didn’t have Orphan’s suit with her.”

Conner, fully embracing the nonsense, dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “I love Cass so much right now. They made edits. With the way Red Robin saved Tim Wayne when you were shot last year, now people are sure this is a tragic love story. And that Batman or Wayne separated you two.”

Cassie was already opening Photoshop. “If we’re going with this, I feel like we need some more tragic edits ans backgroud. Maybe we can fuck with Batman. They already think Nightwing and Dick had a thing after you messed with him last time.”

Tim groaned. “Guys. Stop.”

They did not stop.

---

And so, a new myth was created. People were too busy crafting a tragic romance story between Red Robin and Tae-min to link their identities. Red Robin would never appear again, but it was already too late to stop the chaos of Cass saving him unfounded.

Fanfiction surged. Romantic playlists were curated. Some news sites even reported on it like it was a real historical event.

And through it all, Tae-min just sighed, watching the chaos unfold around him. “This is never going away, is it?”

“Nope,” Cass said simply, scrolling through an extremely detailed theory thread. “Might as well enjoy it.”

Tim buried his face in his hands.

---

Somewhere, Bernard had a revelation.

“Oh my god,” he whispered in horror, staring at his laptop screen. “Superboy and Red Robin were in love with the same person.”

Ives, who had been mid-sip of his coffee, choked violently.

“Bernard,” he said, looking equally fascinated and disturbed. “Explain.”

Bernard turned the screen toward him. “Okay, so Red Robin was always around Superboy, right? I mean, people shipped them for ages. But then he leaves Gotham. But THEN Superboy saves Tae-min from a literal assassination attempt? And now we find out Red Robin was secretly protecting Tae-min the whole time?? ”

Ives squinted. “Are you saying…”

Bernard nodded solemnly. “They both loved Tae-min. But Red Robin, realizing he couldn’t be with him, left to protect him from the shadows. Meanwhile, Superboy is still watching over him, unable to let go. And it is really obvious that Red Robin and Superboy were in love with each other once.”

Ives buried his face in his hands as Bernard continued with terrifying enthusiasm.

“This is the most heartbreaking love triangle I have EVER SEEN. I need to call Tae-min now!”

Chapter 5: Stray cat

It started with his face. That serious, tiny face, almost always with a concentrated pout.

Tae-min wasn’t actually tiny, just a bit small for his age, but something about the way he carried himself made him seem smaller, like a compact storm of quiet intensity. And his ears. His ridiculous, tell-tale red ears that burned whenever he was embarrassed, even when his face wouldn't change.

Eclipse was collaborating with Stray Kids for a special project, which meant Tae-min was staying with them for a few days. A simple arrangement—except nothing was simple when it came to Tae-min and his ability to be adopted by unsuspecting people.

Bang Chan should’ve seen it coming.

---

The first time Chan decided he was keeping Tae-min was at a company dinner.

It wasn’t the first time they had met.

He remembered finding Tae-min half-asleep at a party, curled up in an armchair, barely responding when someone tried to wake him—until he drowsily mumbled something about looking for his brother. Back then, he had seemed lost, too tired to be around so many people but too polite to leave.

And then there was the other extreme: Tae-min in a full energy drink-fueled rampage, barely human, running on pure chaos. It had been the kind of terrifying experience that left Stray Kids both concerned and deeply entertained.

But “normal” Tae-min—this version sitting at the dinner table—was quiet, serious, and almost unnervingly elegant. He was observant, the kind of person who listened more than he spoke, and carried himself with a composed confidence that felt almost too polished for someone his age. It wasn’t just idol training. It was expensive. Chan had been around enough rich kids in the industry to recognize the tells.

Maybe he was different when he was comfortable. Chan had seen glimpses of it in Eclipse’s livestreams—moments when Tae-min would lean into his members, laughing freely, teasing them in a way that was both affectionate and merciless. But here, in a formal setting, he was the picture of restraint.

Until he wasn’t.

The younger boy had spent most of the night listening, nodding along as the older idols and executives talked. His table manners were impeccable, every movement precise and deliberate.

And then, out of nowhere, he dropped the most devastatingly accurate roast of an industry executive with a completely straight face.

The table went silent.

The executive sputtered, struggling for a response. Tae-min, as if suddenly realizing what he had just done, stiffened. His ears burned bright red as he mumbled a hasty apology, staring down into his drink like he wished it would swallow him whole.

Chan stared at him, then at the stunned faces around the table.

“Oh, he’s ours now,” he muttered to himself.

Lee Know, who had also witnessed the whole thing, leaned over and murmured, “Absolutely.”

Across the table, Felix covered his grin with his hand.

Tae-min, oblivious to his newfound adoption, continued to shrink into himself, cheeks still red.

Chan only smiled.

---

Chan was used to his members wandering off, but Tae-min was a whole new level of escape artist. One second he was there, the next—gone, vanished into thin air. And somehow, no one ever actually saw him leave.

It took them an hour to find him.

“Check the dance studio.”

“I did! Not there.”

“The break room?”

“Empty.”

Felix sighed, already pulling out his phone to text Tae-min, but before he could, Changbin—who had been scanning the hallway—let out a choked noise from the doorway.

“Uh… I found him.”

Chan turned, following Changbin’s gaze, and felt his stomach drop.

There, perched on the rooftop ledge, was Tae-min. Hood up, legs dangling over the edge, staring off into the distance. His posture was completely relaxed, but his expression was unreadable.

Chan was moving before he even realized it, stepping onto the rooftop with measured caution. “Hey, uh… you good?”

Tae-min blinked, like he had just realized someone was there. “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

Chan exhaled slowly, trying to read the younger boy’s mood. He looked calm, but with Tae-min, it was hard to tell. “Then why are you up here?”

“I like the view.”

Changbin, who had followed behind, squinted. “You’re literally staring at nothing.”

Tae-min tilted his head slightly. “It looks kind of artistic from up here.”

Changbin turned to Chan. “He’s messing with us, right?”

Chan just sighed and they climbed up to sit down next to Tae-min, mimicking his posture. “Okay, then. Let’s stare at nothing together.”

For a moment, Tae-min was still, then a small huff of laughter escaped him—barely there, but real.

---

 

They decided to eat out, dressing simply to avoid being recognized. It was something they did occasionally—a chance to escape the noise, breathe, and just exist outside the chaos of idol life. This time, Chan and Seungmin dragged Tae-min along because the dorm had been way too loud, and Tae-min, for all his quiet, had looked like he could use the fresh air.

Chan was paying, standing at the counter while Seungmin scrolled through his phone and Tae-min sat nearby, peacefully nibbling on a snack they’d grabbed from a convenience store earlier. He looked at ease. Content, even.

Until he wasn’t.

One second, he was right there. The next—gone.

Chan nearly dropped his wallet. “Where—?”

Seungmin was already standing, scanning the restaurant. “I’ll go look,” he said, already heading for the door. “You stay here in case he comes back.”

Chan hated the waiting. A bad feeling settled in his stomach as minutes ticked by. Ten. Twenty. Thirty.

Then Seungmin burst back into the restaurant, breathless.

“Tae-min is talking to some weird guy.”

Chan didn’t ask questions—he ran .

He skidded to a stop behind the venue, heart pounding, and found Tae-min standing in a dimly lit alley, casually chatting with a man in a trench coat. The guy looked like he had crawled out of a noir film—disheveled, world-weary, and reeking of cigarette smoke and bad decisions.

Chan’s protective instincts kicked into overdrive.

Seungmin was already in front of Tae-min, squaring his shoulders. “Who the hell are you?”

The man smirked, exhaling smoke like he belonged in a gangster movie. “Relax, kid. Just having a chat.”

“A chat ? In an alley ?” Seungmin’s voice rose in disbelief. “Do you know how many crime documentaries start like this?!”

To Chan’s increasing frustration, Tae-min was laughing. Not just laughing— genuinely touched .

“Hyung, it’s okay,” Tae-min said, eyes crinkling. “He’s—”

“Nope.” Chan grabbed his wrist. “I don’t care. I’m taking you inside before you get kidnapped.”

The trench coat guy chuckled, shaking his head. “Smart one, this kid.” Then, he turned back to Tae-min, something unreadable in his expression. “And you, baby entity, remember what I said. Take care.”

Tae-min nodded, amused, but didn’t resist as Chan practically hauled him away.

Only when they were back in the restaurant did Chan finally let go, exhaling sharply. “Seriously, what was that?”

Tae-min rubbed his wrist, still looking a little too amused for Chan’s liking. “Just an old acquaintance.”

Seungmin crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Well, your old acquaintance looked like he walked straight out of a supernatural crime drama.”

Chan exchanged a look with him.

“We have to keep a closer eye on him.”

Seungmin nodded, scowling. “Definitely.”

---

“Where is he?”

They had lost him. Again.

Chan was about to panic when Han opened a supply closet door—and promptly burst out laughing.

Inside, Tae-min was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by snacks and sleepy.

Han wheezed. “What. Are. You. Doing.”

Tae-min looked up, completely deadpan. “I needed a break, you guys have too much energy.”

Han inhaled sharply. “You—you gremlin. You adorable, tired gremlin.”

Chan stepped in, shaking his head. “Okay. We’re officially keeping you.”

Tae-min sighed, his ears burning red. “I didn’t realize I needed keeping.”

Felix, who had just arrived, beamed. “Oh, you do.” He sat down next to Tae-min and handed him another snack like this was perfectly normal. “Welcome to the family, mate.”

---

Chan had been watching Tae-min for a while now, and something clicked in his mind.

“This kid is a stray cat. He is like Lee Know.”

“What?” Lee Know raised an eyebrow.

Chan gestured at Tae-min, who was sitting on the couch, curled up with a blanket, quietly observing the room. He didn’t demand attention, but when someone offered it, he soaked it up with a kind of cautious delight. He was independent but secretly affectionate. And he had a habit of disappearing to the strangest places.

“He acts like a cat,” Chan insisted. “Serious face, chaotic energy, disappears for hours, and then suddenly wants to be around people.”

“I mean… he does end up in weird places a lot,” I.N mused. “Like, remember when we found him asleep behind the couch?”

Felix nodded. “And he flinches when you touch his ears like an actual cat.”

Lee Know smirked. “Guess that means we should just keep him, huh?”

---

By the time the project was wrapping up, Stray Kids had fully, unquestionably claimed Tae-min as one of their own.

It wasn’t even a debate at this point—he was theirs.

So when Min-jae arrived to pick him up, the resistance was immediate .

“Can’t he stay a little longer?” I.N pouted, clutching Tae-min’s arm like a child refusing to give up their favorite plushie.

“We can take good care of him,” Changbin insisted, arms crossed like a protective older brother.

“We’ll feed him,” Han promised, voice full of exaggerated desperation, as if Tae-min were a stray cat they had nursed back to health and were now being forced to release into the wild.

Min-jae sighed, long-suffering, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I get it, trust me. But he’s coming with me.” He turned to Tae-min, raising an eyebrow. “Right?”

Tae-min, clearly amused by the whole thing, glanced around at the dramatically devastated Stray Kids members before nodding. “Right.”

The collective groan was deafening.

“You can visit,” Min-jae relented slightly, ruffling Tae-min’s hair with an affectionate fondness that softened his usual no-nonsense demeanor. “Kwan is waiting for us. We missed you.”

Felix sighed, reluctant. “You promise we can visit?”

Min-jae smiled, gently. “Of course.”

“We will ,” Chan said, utterly serious, looking at Tae-min like he was making an unbreakable vow.

Tae-min shook his head with a small smile, letting Min-jae guide him toward the door, the older boy’s arm draped loosely around his shoulders. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to.

Because as he walked away, he could feel them watching him like a bunch of abandoned puppies.

And Chan?

Chan just smiled to himself, shaking his head.

Because, apparently, Stray Kids had gained another family member.

Whether Tae-min wanted to or not.

 

Chapter 6: Gwidam

Summary:

Some batfamily members meet Gwidam.

The 'Shadow Twins' were a myth among heroes, a whisper in the dark. Some called them ghosts, others, nightmares given form.

Orphan was already a legend in her own right, an unstoppable force in hand-to-hand combat, a wraith who moved unseen and struck with surgical precision. Now Gwidam, was something else entirely. To some, he was a Ghost. 

Among the Justice League, some whispered that they had become more than human.

---

The first time Dick met Gwidam in the field, it had been during a high-stakes operation in Prague. A meta-human trafficking ring had taken root, and Bruce had sent them all in. But by the time he and Red Hood arrived, the job was already done.

Cass and Tae-min stood in the middle of the warehouse, the unconscious bodies of traffickers littering the ground around them. Tae-min’s shadow stretched unnaturally in the dim light, flickering like it was alive, wrapping around his form before settling, as if reluctant to leave him.

It was the first time Dick had seen Tae-min since their conversation in the hospital in Seoul. The first time he had laid eyes on the new identity his brother had forged after leaving Gotham.

He had heard about him, of course. By now, all of the Justice League had. But only a handful had actually seen him in action. Strangely, the Justice League Dark had more encounters with him and Cass than any other heroes—something that Constantine lorded over Bruce at every opportunity.

Zatanna had once told Dick, "He knew the kid before. Talks about him all the time, but I don’t think he even realizes it."

Dick hadn’t known that. But then, there was a lot about Tae-min’s life that he didn’t know.

"And whose fault is that?" he had thought bitterly.

Jason muttered a curse under his breath at the sight before them. “Didn’t even leave one for me.”

Cass tilted her head, her mask unreadable. Tae-min, on the other hand, simply huffed. “Move faster next time, Red.”

Dick had smiled then, but something settled uneasily in his chest.

There was a weight in Tae-min’s presence, something unseen but felt. Something that made even the most seasoned fighters hesitate before stepping into his space.

His uniform was different from anything Dick had ever seen on a Bat-family member before.

The dark hood draped over his face, casting shadows that deepened the eerie glow of his white eyes. The gold trim shimmered slightly in the dim light, forming intricate patterns that almost looked like ancient inscriptions. Beneath the cloak, his suit was reinforced, form-fitting yet flexible, its leather-like texture segmented with faint, almost arcane designs. Straps crossed over his torso, secured with metallic buckles that gleamed when the light hit them just right. A belt sat firm at his waist, lined with compartments, pouches, and throwing knives. His gloves and bracers were lined with subtle golden reinforcements, and the boots he wore seemed designed for absolute silence.

He was something between a warrior and a wraith. Something Dick couldn’t define.

They cleaned up, but before Tae-min and Cass could disappear into the night, as people often said they did, Dick reached out and cautiously grabbed his arm.

“How are things?” he asked, trying not to sound too awkward or too desperate. It was difficult to grasp Tae-min’s emotions with his face covered like that, but the younger man didn’t flinch or pull away.

“Things are better,” Tae-min answered after some deliberation. He was guarded, but he didn’t sound angry anymore.

“I’m glad.” Dick smiled. “You look spooky.”

The little huff that followed made him relax. It was his grumpy little brother again, not some unknowable entity.

Jason, who had been standing behind them, snickered. “Mama, it’s not a phase.”

Tae-min’s head turned sharply, eyes narrowing in what was unmistakably amusement. “What did they say about your theater kid phase?”

“Red bucket,” Cass added helpfully, her voice a deadpan contrast to Jason’s immediate scowl.

“What did you say, brats??”

Dick chuckled as Tae-min and Cass ganged up on Jason, teasing him mercilessly. Even if he knew Jason had done it on purpose—to lighten the mood, to make Tae-min feel more comfortable in what might have been an awkward moment between them.

Because he knew, spooky or not, this was still his little brother.

---

The next ones to meet Gwidam from the Bats were Signal and Robin. It was in the middle of the Arabian desert, where Duke Thomas stood alongside Damian, preparing for their mission.

It was an arms deal, the kind that left war-torn regions suffering while crime syndicates flourished. Bruce had sent Damian and Duke to intercept the shipment, but things had gotten complicated.

The dealers had found them first, and among them were men who moved with a precision Duke recognized from League encounters before. These weren’t ordinary mercenaries. They were assassins—ex-League, men who had deserted after Ra’s al Ghul was killed.

“As I thought.” Damian grumbled, deflecting an incoming strike with practiced ease.

“You knew?? Why the hell didn’t you—” Duke ducked under a blade, twisting to land a counterpunch. “We need backup!”

“We have backup.”

A familiar shadow shifted from the dunes. Orphan moved first, appearing soundlessly. Then, Gwidam.

Duke had known. Even before they arrived, he had felt something—something tugging at the edge of his aura, a presence that was neither light nor dark but something entirely different. He had felt it before, in Gotham, in the whispers of his father’s stories.

His dad used to talk about the Ghost of Crime Alley. A boy with hollow eyes and a city’s sorrow carved into his soul. Duke had never believed in ghosts.

But he had believed in the third Robin. He had believed in Red Robin. And now, standing before Tae-min, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at anymore.

Then the fight truly began.

Cass was a phantom in motion, striking with the silent efficiency of a blade slicing through air. She weaved through their enemies, every strike intentional, every movement calculated. A broken wrist here, a crushed kneecap there—none of the men even saw her coming until they were already falling.

Tae-min was something else entirely. His shadow flickered unnaturally, warping and shifting, confusing the eye. One moment he was in front of an opponent, the next he was behind them, their body crumbling under a precise, devastating blow. His presence was suffocating—like something old and heavy had settled over the battlefield.

Duke had fought alongside some of the strongest fighters Gotham had to offer, but he had never seen anything like this. Tae-min’s style was methodical, merciless. He didn’t waste a single movement, didn’t hesitate before disabling an enemy permanently.

One of the deserters, bloodied but still standing, staggered back, panting. He locked eyes with Tae-min, his expression twisted in something between rage and horror.

“What are you?” the man spat. 

Tae-min didn’t flinch, didn’t react. But Duke saw something flicker in his expression. A shadow of something deeper. Something old.

Before anyone else could speak, a new presence emerged from the darkness.

Talia al Ghul.

She moved with her usual measured grace, her blade already drawn. Without hesitation, she slit the throat of one of the fallen deserters, her expression impassive as she let his body crumple to the sand.

The remaining men tried to flee, but she was faster. One after another, she cut them down as if she were pruning weeds, elegant in her lethality. By the time the last one fell, the air was thick with the scent of blood and desert wind.

Duke exhaled sharply. “Jesus.”

Talia ignored him, her gaze settling instead on her son. “You’ve grown,” she said, stepping toward them with that ever-calculating gaze. Her eyes flickered to Damian, who stood stiff beside Duke, then to Tae-min. “Both of you.”

Tae-min didn’t react immediately. Then, with a slow tilt of his head, he exhaled. “Talia.”

No honorific. No resentment. Just recognition. As if he had expected this.

“I have no quarrel with you tonight. I came for them,” she continued, her tone matter-of-fact. Then, after a pause, her sharp eyes narrowed slightly. “Something is different. What happened to you?”

“Mother.” Damian stepped between them, his stance tight with something unreadable. Protective, maybe.

Talia’s expression softened, just for a moment. “Hello, beloved.”

Her gaze flickered back to Tae-min, head tilted in scrutiny.

Tae-min’s gaze darkened, unreadable. “Still figuring that out.”

Talia hummed, a knowing sound. “Then take care not to become something you cannot control.”

She barely spared another glance at the bodies littered across the sand, unimpressed. Then, just as swiftly as she had arrived, she took a step back and vanished into the night, melting into the desert shadows.

The crisis had ended, but they didn’t part ways immediately.

Later, Tae-min sat on a rooftop, overlooking the city with Duke beside him and Cass leaning against his back. The night air was cool, the city alive with the distant hum of life returning to normal.

Duke broke the silence first. “So, that was Damian's mom, huh? She’s… intense.”

“Understatement of the century,” Tae-min muttered. Then, after a pause, he exhaled. “Constantine said something about me changing. About how people’s belief might be shaping me into something else.”

Duke raised a brow. “That explains your weird aura." Tae-min stiled at this. " Sorry, it's distracting. But, it's like magic belief? The whole ‘urban legend becomes real’ kind of deal?”

Tae-min nodded. “I’ve been changing for a long time. Maybe it started before I even noticed.”

Duke let out a low whistle. “Well, if you start glowing ominously or floating or something, let me know.”

Tae-min chuckled. “Deal.”

Damian, who had found them, settled beside Tae-min without a word, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  After a moment, he spoke, voice so quiet it was almost lost to the wind.

“You came.”

Tae-min turned his head slightly, studying him.

“You called,” he answered simply.

Damian stilled, caught off guard by the certainty in his tone. “I see.”

Duke, observing them, realized how much Damian had grown. He wasn’t the small, sharp-edged kid Duke had met years ago. Now, standing next to Tae-min, they were almost the same height, Damian even broader than his older brother. There were similarities in their posture, in the way they held themselves, in the new modifications Damian had made to his suit. At first, Duke had thought the design mirrored Cass’s, but now he could see it—Damian had known what Gwidam’s uniform looked like.

Damian broke the silence again. “Are you going back someday?”

Tae-min hesitated, considering his words carefully. “I’ll always go back to Gotham when I can. It’s my home. But… I don’t think I can stay.”

“I see—” Damian started, but Tae-min cut in.

“But you know where I am. You two can always come to me and Cass.”

Damian didn’t respond. But the silence between them wasn’t tense. It was something else. Something unspoken but understood.

Duke felt a surprising warmth in his chest. Even though Tae-min had spooked him at first, he had always been his Robin. And now? He was cool as hell. Almost as cool as Cass.

“Man, don’t do that,” Duke said, shaking his head with a grin. “Or you’ll never be able to hide from me, you know.”

Tae-min laughed, and for a brief moment, it was the same laughter Duke had heard on Gotham’s rooftops, the same voice that had once called out in the night.

It sounded like home.

Notes:

Talia is trying hard not adopt her son's siblings.
Also Damian inspiring his uniform on his brother, but he would never admit it.

Chapter 7: Tae-min vs. Social Cues: A Battle He Keeps Losing

Summary:

Tae-min is a chaos gremlin.

Since he was a kid, Kwan had always known he wanted to be an artist. He loved the stage, songwriting, and performing in general. He was great with people, always knowing how to navigate a crowd. Coming from an artistic family—his father had been a famous singer in Japan—he had practically grown up backstage. But after his father passed away in an accident when he was thirteen, he and his sisters had to move in with their grandparents, far from the world he loved.

For Kwan, music was a way of keeping his father close. Unlike his sisters, he had no plan B. When an old friend of his father’s offered him a place as a trainee in Korea, he took the chance without hesitation. The road was tough. Many of his friends debuted before him, and he often questioned if he was making the right choice—especially when his mother called, asking him to come home. But Min-jae was always there, his quiet rock. Without Min-jae and his sisters, he would have given up long ago.

But now, he had another family. Eclipse was his family.

Min-jae was his partner in crime, the person he trusted the most. Seojin was their little brother, an endless ball of energy who pulled them all forward. Jiho was the heart of the group, always seeing the best in them and making them want to be better.

And then, there was Tae-min.

Tae-min was their soul. A quiet storm, peaceful yet full of chaos. He tried his best to protect everyone, sometimes even forgetting himself in the process. Kwan saw a lot of Min-jae in him—the quiet strength, the way they both unknowingly commanded attention, their struggle with vulnerability because the world had hurt them before.

Sometimes, Kwan would see them sitting together in complete silence, doing their own thing, and it was… cute. Their deadpan expressions, the way they both had difficulty asking for affection—though Jiho was actively fixing that.

Unfortunately, their similarities extended to things that were far less cute and much more problematic. Both had been so poorly socialized as children—Tae-min due to neglect, and Min-jae because he had to grow up in a rough environment—that they completely missed social cues.

Which made them, especially Tae-min (since he lacked a filter when comfortable), absolute menaces.

---

It was supposed to be a simple interview. The group was seated comfortably on a talk show, chatting casually.

“So, I hear you guys have received great mentorship from legends in the industry,” the host said, smiling. “I mean, Rain is a powerhouse. What’s it like working with him?”

Tae-min, sipping his water, barely looked up. “It’s cool. He has a lot of experience. I mean, he’s ancient.”

Silence.

Kwan coughed. Seojin tried (and failed) to stifle his laughter. Min-jae simply closed his eyes like he was mourning his career.

The host, clearly struggling, forced a smile. “Ancient?”

Tae-min nodded, completely oblivious. “Yeah, like, when he talks about his rookie days, it sounds like a history lesson. It’s impressive, though. I mean, he’s been in the industry forever. Like, since before I was born. That’s a long time, right? I think it’s cool, still being able to perform at that age.”

Cue nervous laughter from the rest of the members and a very viral clip circulating online.

---

It kept happening. In another interview, they were asked about fashion inspirations.

“Oh, BangChan, for sure,” Seojin said. “He’s always styled so well.”

Tae-min blinked, looking genuinely confused. “Are we talking about the same BangChan?”

Seojin froze. The interviewer raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

Tae-min tilted his head. “I mean, I love him, but… fashion icon? He spent a few months looking like Coraline.”

Kwan quickly jumped in. “What Tae-min means is that BangChan has a very unique style.”

Min-jae covered his mouth. Jiho, wide-eyed, tried desperately to change the topic. But it was too late. The internet had its next victim.

---

During a casual live stream, a fan asked about their favorite memories together.

Min-jae smiled fondly. “Ah, there are so many. But I think one of my favorites is when we all went to the amusement park together for the first time.”

Tae-min, munching on snacks, nodded. “Yeah, it was fun. Even Min-jae went on the roller coaster.”

Min-jae frowned. “Even me?”

Tae-min shrugged. “Well, yeah. I didn’t think you would. Old people don’t do that.”

The chat exploded.

Min-jae’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

Kwan immediately looked away. Jiho coughed to hide his laughter. Seojin? Seojin wheeze-laughed.

Tae-min blinked, still eating. “What? You’re, like, eight years older than me. That’s old.”

Min-jae dramatically clutched his chest like he’d been fatally wounded.

“You say that, but it wasn’t Min-jae who fell asleep on the roller coaster,” Seojin added, patting their leader on the back.

“That’s true.” Tae-min agreed. “Maybe I’m getting old like you, Min-jae hyung.”

---

It wasn’t just his savage streak—Tae-min was also completely unaware of his own charm. It was almost funny how he got flustered around certain people, like Felix and Hyunwoo, but with others, he flirted without even realizing it.

During a backstage event, Sunghoon from Enhypen casually commented, “You guys are so intense on stage. Especially you, Tae-min. Your presence is incredible.”

Tae-min smiled, eyes bright. “You too. Your face is so pretty it distracts me.”

The conversation around them screeched to a halt. Sunghoon blinked, caught completely off guard. Seojin, who had been sipping his drink, choked. “Oh my god.”

Kwan, already rubbing his temples like a disappointed father, muttered, “I can’t do this anymore. Seojin, go get him before he ruins someone’s life.”

Before Seojin could step in, San from Ateez sauntered up, casually slinging an arm around Tae-min’s shoulders. “You train a lot, huh? Your shoulders are getting broader.”

Tae-min, ever the menace, beamed at him. “You noticed? Your arms are amazing too. They look good at hugging.”

San’s slow, amused smile did not help. “You wanna try it?”

Kwan’s soul briefly left his body. Because no, Tae-min was his kid. San needed to get his pirate ass away from him.

Before he could physically intervene, Hyunjin materialized like a guardian angel (or a concerned older brother) and smoothly slid a hand around Tae-min’s arm, steering him away.

“Hey, buddy. You did good,” Hyunjin said casually, leading him toward Kwan and Min-jae like he was guiding a lost puppy. “Those extra dance practices really paid off, huh?”

Tae-min, still glowing from the praise, smiled one of those rare, genuine smiles. “Thank you, Hyunjin-hyung! I couldn't stop looking at you guys too. You’re amazing, like Cass. No wonder everyone is in love with you.”

Hyunjin stopped in his tracks. His face went red so fast it was like someone had flipped a switch.

Behind them, a strangled noise came from the rest of Stray Kids.

“Oh my god,” someone whispered. “He broke Hyung.”

Kwan, physically leaning on Jiho for support, groaned. “He is you, but worse.”

Min-jae blinked. “Me?”

“Remember when you accidentally flirted with Jimin-sunbaenim?”

Min-jae frowned. “I did not flirt with him.”

Seojin, sitting nearby, outright snorted. “Dude, you told him his voice made your heart race and then stared at him like he was the only person in the world.”

Min-jae, visibly flustered, turned to Kwan. “Well, that’s because he looked like you. The eyes. Your eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Kwan froze. His brain short-circuited.

Seojin lost it. “Oh, this is gold. There are two of them.”

Before Kwan could recover, Bang Chan strolled up, placed both hands on Tae-min’s shoulders, and gently shoved him back into Kwan’s arms. “Here. Take your kid before he accidentally gets into a relationship.”

“Or wrecks our careers,” Seojin added, ruffling Tae-min’s hair. Tae-min scowled, trying to swat his hand away.

“What?” Tae-min asked, alarmed. His wide eyes darted between them, full of innocent confusion.

“Nothing, Seojin is just joking, baby.” Kwan quickly hugged him. “Let’s go home before someone steals you from us.”

“Oh, man, I was already drafting our wedding papers!” Hyunjin whined dramatically, finally getting his voice back.

Bang Chan, still highly amused, smirked. “He would be ours through marriage. But you have competition—Red Robin and Superboy won’t let him go easily.”

“I can take them,” Hyunjin shot back, flipping his hair. “I’m way cuter, right, Tae-ah?”

Tae-min, still peeking over Kwan’s shoulder, tilted his head in thought. “I don’t know. He can be really cute when he’s tired.”

Kwan groaned as the people around them dissolved into laughter.

“Another day, another chaos,” Jiho sighed, shaking his head.

---

And somewhere in the depths of social media, the internet was having a meltdown.

@KPopNewsNow: “Tae-min out here unintentionally speedrunning a dating sim, and he doesn’t even know he’s playing.”
@NetizenBuzz: “Just saw the video from the SINZ tonight. Hyunjin’s entire operating system crashed and rebooted. Someone check on him.”
@Dispatch: “San: ‘You wanna try it?’ | Tae-min: ‘Sure, why not?’ | Kwan: ‘NOT ON MY WATCH.’”
@EclipseUpdates: “Bang Chan deadass handed Tae-min back like a lost child. ‘Take your kid before he gets married.’ ”
@KDramaFan: “No because WHY is Tae-min so dangerous when he’s completely oblivious?? Someone protect him (from himself).”
@Chaos4Life: “Min-jae flirting with Kwan, my parents.”

A THREAD: The Times Tae-min Accidentally Flirted and Broke People 

…. part eleven

Bang Chan: "Take your kid before he accidentally starts a relationship with someone."
Tae-min: "Wait, what??"
Kwan: "Nothing, baby. Let’s go home before someone steals you."
Hyunjin: "TOO LATE, I’M FILING THE WEDDING PAPERS."

[📎 attached gif: Kwan facepalming while Hyunjin dramatically clutches his chest]

Chapter 8: Ghosts of the Living

Summary:

Finally Bruce and Kwan have a confrontation

Notes:

Content Warnings:
PTSD / Trauma Reactions, Panic Attack / Meltdown, Physical and Emotional Distress, Implicit Grooming / Predatory Behavior, Dissociation / Flashbacks
Non-consensual Touching (Brief), Discussion of Neglect and Parental Guilt
Public Breakdown / Overstimulation, Themes of Power Imbalance & Industry Exploitation

As idols, the group was often invited to high-profile events, especially before a world tour. This time, they were in Europe, attending a prestigious gala in Monaco, a film premiere filled with celebrities, industry moguls, and elite socialites.

Tae-min knew from Cass and Duke that the Waynes were also attending—Bruce, Dick, and Cass would be there. Jason, who was in Monaco with the Outlaws for a case, had warned both him and Cass that he would be around as well, working undercover as part of the gala staff. He had mentioned something about a human trafficking ring operating in the area, with one of the suspects expected to be at the event.

As if Tae-min needed more reasons to be on edge.

The gala was overwhelming.

He was good at socializing when he had the energy, slipping into a polite mask with ease, but after days of constant attention, flashing cameras, and the pressure to be perfect, it was wearing him down. His shoulders were stiff, his fingers trembled slightly when he reached for a glass of champagne he had no intention of drinking. The air felt too thick, the room too loud, and the weight of so many gazes pressed down on him like a cage.

He had been scanning the room for Cass for the past hour, but she was with the Waynes, and the thought of running into Bruce sent an anxious shiver down his spine. He wasn’t ready for that. He had also lost track of his members while trying to find a quiet place to breathe. Min-jae was not going to be happy about that.

“You're the kid from Eclipse, the American one. You look lost.”

A man—older, impeccably dressed, with a calculating gleam in his eyes—stepped into his space. Too close. Tae-min forced a smile and took a polite step back.

“Just looking for my sister,” he said smoothly, his voice steady despite the discomfort creeping up his spine.

The man hummed, eyes scanning him like he was something to be assessed. “You’re quite the spectacle tonight. The industry’s golden boy, yet still carrying an air of something… untamed.”

Something in Tae-min tightened.

The man chuckled, oblivious—or perhaps entertained—by the way Tae-min’s fingers curled against his palm. “That wildness. Different from your friends. You remind me of something that can’t be caged.”

A hand brushed against his arm. A seemingly friendly gesture, but it was wrong. Wrong.

Part of Tae-min’s mind, the one trained to recognize threats, screamed at him. He had found Jason’s suspect. He should signal him, should act—but the words wouldn’t come.

“You must know what you do to people,” the man continued, voice smooth, his grip feather-light but unshakable. “Such a wild little thing.”

Tae-min’s breath caught.

"You are a weapon,detective. A force meant to be wielded, not wasted."

His vision tunneled. The gala around him blurred and twisted, voices fading under the crushing weight of a memory forcing its way to the surface. The smell of incense and blood. Cold stone beneath his knees. A hand gripping his chin, tilting his face up to meet unforgiving eyes.

"Such a wild thing was never meant for softness. You are mine to wield now."

A sharp intake of breath. Tae-min stumbled back, his chest rising and falling too fast, too shallow. His skin burned where the man had touched him. His own pulse thundered in his ears. The world tilted, and suddenly, someone was there.

“Tae-ah?”

Jiho. His voice was cautious, concerned. Tae-min barely registered the way Jiho’s hands hovered, unsure whether to touch him. The man was still there, standing too close, a hand ready to touch Jiho’s shoulder next.

Tae-min tried to speak, to warn him, but the past still had its claws in him, dragging him under.

“Hey, fucker. Get away from them!”

Jason’s voice. Good. He would protect Jiho.

“What is happening here?”

He was back from the past, but he was trembling, he couldn’t stop trembling. It was too much. Too loud, too bright. Too much.

Someone touched his arm.

Tae-min screamed.

His hands flew to his ears, fingers tangling in his hair. He could feel his knees hitting the floor. The fabric of his suit suddenly felt too tight, suffocating. The voices blurred together, loud and sharp and wrong. Flashes and lights were on him, people talking, the sound making him want to rip his ears off. It was painful. He tried to make himself smaller, to make everything go away. Someone was crying at his side, but he couldn’t help. He could do nothing.

“Do something!”

“Tae-ah!”

Min-jae’s voice. Firm, urgent. A rush of movement. A weight around his shoulders, grounding and warm.

Kwan.

“You’re okay,” Kwan murmured, his tone low and steady as he guided him away from the crowd, away from the suffocating heat of the gala. “I got you.”

Tae-min’s breath hitched, a shudder running through him as he clung to the familiar presence.

“Go, take them away. Me and the old man will take care of this.”

Min-jae was at his other side now, his voice unwavering. “We’re taking you out of here. You too, Jiho. Come here, kid.”

He wasn’t sure how long it took before the air felt less thick, before the sounds around him stopped echoing like they were coming from underwater. He barely registered the car ride back to the hotel, only that Kwan never let go of his hand.

---

Jason had seen a lot of ugly things in his life. He’d fought monsters—the human kind and the ones that lurked in the shadows of Gotham. But there was something uniquely disturbing about watching a man circle his prey in plain sight, draped in wealth and power like armor, moving without fear of consequence.

He had spotted Tae-min earlier, tracking the kid through the gala. Jason had a sharp eye for people who wanted to disappear. The tension in his shoulders, the twitch in his fingers, the way his gaze kept darting around the room like he was searching for an exit—Jason knew those signs well. The weight of expectation pressing down, suffocating. The gnawing exhaustion from being on for too long.

He was trying to find a way to help the kid leave, but then he appeared. Jason saw the way the man slid too close, cutting into Tae-min’s space like he was entitled to it. He saw the way Tae-min froze, breath catching, shoulders locking up. He knew what that meant.

Jason was already moving before he fully processed it, shoving past a cluster of guests murmuring over champagne and business deals. The second he heard the man’s words—

"Such a wild little thing." 

—Jason’s vision went red.

That voice. That tone.

It was the voice of a predator. One who knew exactly what he was doing. One who had just said something close enough to whatever was festering in Tae-min’s past that it cracked something open inside him.

Tae-min’s breath went wrong. His hands twitched, then clenched into fists. His pupils shrank to pinpricks. He looked trapped. And then the other kid—Jiho—was there, stepping between Tae-min and the monster, like he wasn’t prey, too.

Jason cursed, reaching for his gun before remembering he wasn’t in the field. He didn’t need it. He could break this guy’s face with his hands just fine.

"Hey, fucker," Jason snapped, stepping between them. "Get away from them."

The man turned, all polite confusion, like he didn’t understand. But Jason saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes.

"I don’t—"

"You know exactly what you were trying."

Before Jason could do anything, Roy and Kori were there. They hadn’t even changed out of their gala clothes, but the man barely had time to react before he was immobilized.

The guests were starting to notice. The murmurs grew louder, rippling through the crowd like static. The predator was speaking, demanding to know what they thought they were doing, feigning innocence.

And then—

"What is happening here?"

Jason barely had time to register Bruce’s voice before he saw it. The worst-case scenario playing out before him in real-time.

Someone moved toward Tae-min, tried to guide him away—

"Don’t—"

Tae-min screamed.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even a word. But it ripped through the air like a gunshot.

The entire room went still.

Tae-min collapsed, hands flying to his ears, body curling in on itself. He was trembling—shaking so hard Jason could see it from feet away. His breath was too fast, too shallow, and Jason knew what that was. He’d seen it before. The kind of fear that buries itself deep and refuses to let go. The kind that sends you somewhere else entirely. He reached his limit.

And Bruce —

Bruce was there.

Jason watched it happen. The way Bruce’s body moved instinctively, the way his hand twitched, like he was going to reach for Tae-min— 

And then he hesitated, looking too scared to touch as Tae-min flinched away from him. 

He watched his father’s face shift, something dark and painful settling behind his eyes as Tae-min made himself tiny on the floor, breathing hard, sobbing. 

"Do something!" Jason snapped, busy trying to contain the crowd who was making it worse. People started filming, cameras flashing as the kid was breaking down. The idiots from security looked lost, the other kid was trying to help, but was crying too, overwhelmed with his friend's pain.

Cass was gone—she’d left earlier to tail a target, or else she’d be the one on the floor right now, pulling Tae-min back from the edge. And Bruce, their dad, fucking Batman was there, looking paralyzed as he never saw him before. Jason was ready to make a run with the kids when safety arrived.

"Tae-ah!"

It was Kwan who dropped down first. His voice was low, steady, murmuring something Jason couldn’t hear.

Then Min-jae.

Neither of them hesitated. Not for a second. They knew exactly what to do. How to touch him, how to talk to him. They handled Tae-min like they had done this before. Like they had practiced.

And Bruce— Bruce just watched.

Jason saw it then. The realization hitting him. That these two boys—barely in their twenties—knew how to comfort Tae-min in ways he never had. That they could reach for him. That they could touch him.

Bruce’s hands curled into fists.

He said nothing as he watched Kwan and Min-jae wrap Tae-min in warmth, pulling him away from the suffocating crowd, Seojin taking the other kid who was sobbing. 

Jason knew what was running through Bruce’s head.

That should have been me.

Jason let him stew in it.

Then he turned back to the predator, who was still secured in Kori’s and Roy’s grip.

Dick had already moved in from somewhere, his expression unreadable, but Jason saw the tension in his stance.

Jason smirked.

Oh, this guy was so fucked.

---

They had to clean up the mess. Of course they did. Too many people had seen what happened. Too many questions. Bruce handled it, smoothing things over with polite, clipped words. By the time the Outlaws had the bastard in cuffs, Bruce was already making arrangements to leave. Dick stayed back at the party to divert attention. Cass was already at the hotel, making sure Tae-min was okay.

Jason drove. Bruce sat in the back, silent the whole ride.

He didn’t speak until they reached the suite.

"You hesitated."

Bruce, halfway through unbuttoning his cufflinks, stilled. "I didn’t want to make it worse."

"You hesitated," Jason repeated, sharper this time. "Because you thought you weren’t the one he’d reach for."

Bruce exhaled slowly, setting his cufflinks down with more care than necessary.

For a moment, he looked old.

"I failed him," Bruce admitted.

Jason crossed his arms. "Yeah, no shit."

Bruce’s jaw tensed. 

"You’re so great to everyone, but when it is your kids, you don’t say shit," Jason snapped. "You don’t show shit. You just expect us to know you care because you’re there."

Bruce didn’t argue.

Jason huffed, running a hand through his hair. "You're jealous. It’s unbelievable. Those guys in his group? They show it. They tell him every time that they love him. They hold him when he needs it. That’s why he went to them, Bruce. Because they prove it. They don’t leave him in the dust wondering if his family gives a shit about him!"

Bruce was quiet for a long moment before he said, "I don’t know how."

Jason stared at him. "Then learn."

Bruce’s lips parted slightly.

Jason scoffed. "You think I knew how to not be an asshole to him? That I just magically figured it out? No. But I learned. You wanna be in his life again? You have to show up. And you have to say it."

Bruce swallowed, his throat working. Jason watched something break open in him, just a little.

"Cass is with him," Bruce murmured.

Jason sighed. "Yeah. But you? Why the fuck are you still here instead of checking on him?"

Bruce didn’t say anything. But he grabbed the keys and left.

Jason leaned against the table, rubbing his temples.

Then he smirked and took his phone to call Kori.

"Now, let’s talk about how we’re gonna ruin that bastard’s life."

---

Their ride back to the hotel was silent, except for Tae-min’s soft sniffles. Even crying, the kid was quiet, his face buried in Kwan’s shoulder. His hands were clawed into Kwan’s shirt, trembling, while Min-jae kept a steady hand on his back, fingers tracing soothing circles.

Jiho sat across from them, wide-eyed, tear tracks staining his cheeks. He gripped Seojin’s arm as though it were the only thing anchoring him. Every soft sob from Tae-min made his tears start anew. Seojin, his face set like stone, hesitated only for a moment before pulling Jiho close, cradling his head against his shoulder.

In the passenger seat, Mrs. Lee spoke quietly into her phone, her voice urgent but measured. Somewhere up front, the driver murmured, “Poor kids,” under his breath. More than once.

They had warned the staff. Told them that Tae-min needed a break. That they should leave early. Min-jae and Kwan had made up their minds to get him out of there the moment they lost him in the crowd.

They hadn’t been fast enough.

“Fuck,” Seo-jin swore, his voice hoarse with frustration. "Where the fuck was the security?"

Min-jae turned to him, eyes dark with anger. The company had pushed Tae-min to go. Even when they, his group, his family , had warned against it. A predator had been near Tae-min and Jiho, lurking in the party. And people— people —had filmed Tae-min having a meltdown instead of helping.

Min-jae’s voice was steady, but there was rage simmering beneath it. “We have to protect each other. Because it seems, nobody else will.”

---

Back at the hotel, Tae-min’s sister was waiting in the lobby.

The moment she saw him, she reached out. And Tae-min all but collapsed into her arms. She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t demand explanations. She just held him . He pressed his forehead against her shoulder, grounding himself in the steady rhythm of her breathing.

Jiho reached for Kwan’s hand the second it was free, clutching it tight before pulling him into a hug. Kwan let him, one hand smoothing over Jiho’s hair as if to silently reassure him: I’m here. We’re safe now.

“Let’s go,” Min-jae murmured, ignoring the staff hovering at a distance. Seojin brought up the rear, his sharp gaze daring anyone to say a word.

They stayed like that—pressed close together, a quiet tangle of exhausted bodies—until they reached the room.

---

The suite was quiet except for the occasional murmur between Min-jae and Kwan. Safe. Secure. A fragile sanctuary in the aftermath of chaos.

Then the door opened.

Mrs. Lee entered first, arms crossed, her face unreadable, making her displeasure clear.

And behind her—Bruce fucking Wayne.

Min-jae tensed instantly. Kwan’s arm tightened around Tae-min, just for a moment, before he exhaled, forcing himself to relax.

Wayne stopped a few steps in, his gaze sweeping over the room. He took in Tae-min, curled against Cass, exhaustion carved into every line of his face. He saw the others, protective walls formed around the boy he had once called his son.

“…Is he okay?” Wayne asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Kwan didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at Wayne. Really looked at him. The guilt. The hesitation. The way he kept his distance, as if he had no right to step closer.

“Come.” Kwan jerked his head toward the hallway. His voice was low but firm.

He exchanged a glance with Min-jae— Stay here. Stay with them.

If he had to be the one to face Bruce Wayne, so be it. But Min-jae? Min-jae would lose his head if he even tried.

Wayne followed without a word.

Once the door shut behind them, Kwan turned, arms crossed. “You care about him.” It wasn’t a question.

The man’s jaw clenched. “I love him.”

Kwan nodded, sharp and knowing. “Then why the hell can’t you show him?”

Wayne opened his mouth, but Kwan cut him off, stepping forward.

“Tae-min doesn’t just know things, not when it comes to love. His whole life, people have tried to mold him into what they wanted—taught him that he had to earn love, prove his worth to deserve it.” Kwan’s voice didn’t waver, but there was something raw beneath it. “He thought the world of you, and you made him believe he wasn’t enough.”

Wayne exhaled sharply through his nose, but Kwan wasn’t done.

“You made him doubt his own worth.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow, that only made the words hit harder. “And the worst part? I can see how much you care for him. But you—you won’t even fight for him. You're a coward.”

Wayne stiffened, something tightening in his throat, something painful and unspoken.

Kwan sighed, then—just slightly—he bowed. “I apologize for being disrespectful.”

Wayne blinked, as if caught off guard.

“I think I deserve some disrespect,” he said after a beat. Then, quieter, “Thank you. For taking care of him.”

Kwan shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me. He’s my family, I love that kid. But if you want any chance of still being his, you need to stop running. You need to be there.”

His expression faltered. “I don’t think he wants me to.”

Kwan scoffed. “Then you’re not as smart as he made you out to be.” He met Bruce Wayne’s eyes, unyielding. “What he needs—what he has always needed—is for someone to fight for him. Even if you won’t, we will. Do you understand, sir?”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Then, finally, Wayne whispered, “…Yes.”

Kwan let out a slow breath. “Good.” He stepped back, then added, “And Wayne? If you ever hurt him again, for action or omission, I don’t care who you are. We’ll find a way to end you.”

To his surprise, Bruce smiled. A small, tired thing. “Good.”

When they stepped back inside, the atmosphere had shifted. The room was calm, quieter now, but the weight of everything still lingered.

Bruce Wayne hesitated. His gaze flickered to Tae-min, still curled against Cass, her hand resting lightly on his head. She met Bruce’s eyes over Tae-min’s shoulder, her expression knowing. 

Wayne took a slow step back. He didn’t leave. But he didn’t push, either.

Maybe he was finally starting to understand.

---

Trending Hashtags

 #ProtectTaeMin

  #JusticeForTaeMin

  #TaeMinDeservesBetter

  #WayneFamilyDrama 

 #OutlawsJustice

 #Starfire

@FilmFreak99 :

"I was at the premiere, and I swear it was one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen. Tae-min was clearly distressed, and instead of helping, people FILMED him. What is wrong with you all???" #ProtectTaeMin

@GothamNews24

BREAKING: The Outlaws were involved in the arrest of an unidentified man at the gala where Tae-min’s incident occurred. Sources confirm Starfire was present undercover. More details to come. #OutlawsJustice

 @HeroWatch

"So you’re telling me Starfire—yes, THE Starfire—was at the gala IN DISGUISE, while the Outlaws handled a secret mission? What the hell was really going on?" #Starfire

 

 

 Rolling Stone – "The Dark Side of Fame: How the Industry Exploited Tae-min’s Breakdown"

"The footage is harrowing: flashing cameras, an overwhelmed Tae-min and a crying Jiho, and a crowd that chose to film instead of help. It’s a damning reflection of an industry that preys on vulnerability and spectacle over humanity."

  The Gotham Gazette – "Bruce Wayne Faces Backlash After Premiere Incident"

"Sources say Wayne was present at the event but did not intervene as Tae-min, visibly distressed, struggled in front of a growing crowd. The incident has reignited discussions about his relationship with the young star."

  Gotham Times – "Tae-min’s Struggles Highlight the Industry’s Failure to Protect Vulnerable Stars"
"The recent incident has sparked conversations about the entertainment industry’s treatment of neurodivergent artists. Tae-min, who has openly spoken about his autism, was left vulnerable at the event, highlighting a severe lack of proper accommodations."

  Variety – "Autism Awareness & The Industry: How Tae-min’s Experience Resonates"
"The outpouring of support for Tae-min has brought autism awareness into mainstream conversations. Fans and advocacy groups alike are pushing for change, urging event organizers to create safer environments for neurodivergent individuals."

 

REDDIT THREADS

 r/EntertainmentNews – "Tae-min’s Premiere Incident: What We Know So Far"
  u/throwawayfan77 : "I can’t stop thinking about how this poor kid was just abandoned in a sea of flashing cameras and nobody helped except his own people. Disgusting."
  u/insidertalk : "Security was overwhelmed, sure, but that doesn’t excuse the event organizers. This should never have happened."

  r/SuperheroLeaks – "Outlaws Took Down Someone Big at the Gala—Here’s What We Know"

  u/conspiracyqueen : "The man was a fucking creep, he was around Tae-min and Jiho and was the one who triggered Tae."

  u/WayneIndustriesInsider : "Someone know who was the waiter who helped the boys? Because he looked a lot like the Wayne kid who died years ago,"

r/AutismAwareness – "Seeing Tae-min struggle hit too close to home"
  u/NDandProud : "I’ve had meltdowns in public before, and the way people just… stare. Film. Treat it like entertainment. It’s dehumanizing. He deserves better."
  u/SupportNDStars : "People with autism shouldn’t have to ‘perform’ normalcy just to be accepted. We need better advocacy in these spaces."

 

 @PopCultureInsider (80K views)

[Video with text overlay: “How The Industry Failed Tae-min”]

"For YEARS, people have been exploiting Tae-min’s vulnerability, and this is just another example. What happened at the premiere wasn’t just a PR disaster—it was a wake-up call. The kid has autism, he already confirmed it, how they didn’t protect him?"

 

@EclipseOfficial (Eclipse’s Verified Account)
"We stand together. Always."

 [Attached image: Tae-min and Jiho curled around each other, asleep, blankets draped over them. Soft lighting, exhaustion visible.]

  Top Comments:

  @SoftlyTae : "This is the most heartbreaking and beautiful thing I’ve seen. They deserve the world."

  @JihoProtectionSquad : "Jiho protect Tae-min, our soft boy. "

  @EclipseHeart : "I hate this industry."

 

 Tae-min’s Official Statement

"Thank you for all the kind messages. I don’t always have the words, but I see them. I feel them. I’m grateful for them. Please, don’t be angry for me. I don’t want that. Just… be kind. To each other, to yourselves. That’s enough. 💙"_

 Top Comments:
  @TaeMinFan4ever : "You are LOVED. You don’t have to go through this alone."
  @JihoMyHeart : "This boy got hurt and is out here telling US to be kind. We don’t deserve him."

Chapter 9: As long as we’re here

The buzz around the disastrous premiere in Monaco had spread quickly through the industry. From the highest ranks of K-pop’s elite to the trainees still fighting for a debut, everyone had something to say about what had happened. In private chats and hushed conversations, people speculated about Tae-min’s collapse and how the company had handled it—or failed to.

Despite the noise surrounding Eclipse, within the group itself, things were quieter than ever. Since the incident, Tae-min had barely spoken. He smiled when spoken to, answered when necessary, but there was a hollowness to it all. Jiho hadn’t left his side, hovering protectively, making sure no one pushed him too hard. Kwan, observant as always, had his own thoughts on the matter.

“He thinks he embarrassed us,” Kwan murmured to Min-jae as they sat in the dorm’s common area.

Min-jae frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know. But that’s how he works. He probably feels like he let us down, no matter how many times we tell him he didn’t.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep telling him.”

A few days later, Stray Kids arrived back in Korea and wasted no time checking in. Bang Chan was chosen to go. Even if they all wanted to, he didn’t want to overwhelm Tae-min. In the end, he alone made his way to Cass’s house, bringing food, gifts, anything to lighten the mood. Cass let him in with a tired smile.

“He’s in the back with Jiho,” she said. “He’s... getting better. Just slow.”

In the quiet warmth of the house, Min-jae pulled Bang Chan aside.

“He’s not talking much,” Min-jae admitted. “Seojin is so angry that he is hiding from us. And Jiho… he’s even more clingy than usual.”

Bang Chan nodded. “That’s expected. What happened wasn’t small.”

“I should’ve protected them better.”

Bang Chan placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “You did everything you could, Min-jae. This wasn’t on you. The company pushed too hard. And now they know it.”

Min-jae exhaled sharply, frustration and guilt etched into every line of his face. “I just… I hate that they’re hurting.”

“They have you guys,” Bang Chan said, his voice gentle but firm. “That’s what matters.”

In the next room, Tae-min laughed at something Jiho said—too loud, too forced. Kwan met Bang Chan’s gaze from across the room, and in that shared look, an understanding passed between them: it would take time, but Tae-min wasn’t alone.

---

In the next days, Cas’s apartament had some more visitors: other idols, Mrs Lee, Kon, Cassie, Bart, Jason (who said he was in the area, which was a lie) and even Constantine passed by. 

People back from Gotham would call almost everyday, but if Tae-min would talk  to them that day it was hard to guess. When he did, usually it was Duke or Damian, who would ramble about one thing or another. 

Never Bruce, even if he called everyday.

The visitors, he would greet with his usual soft smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He acted like nothing had happened, as if the weight of the industry’s judgment hadn’t carved new bruises into the walls of his heart.

The Eclipse members were there everyday, most nights one of them would stay with him, even if they had to go back to the dorm. Mrs Lee was turning a blind eye to this.

That day, they were with him, ignoring the hour and the messages to go back.

Min-jae watched him carefully. Jiho was half-curled into his side, clinging to his sleeve like it grounded him. Like it grounded them both.

“You don’t have to pretend with us,” Kwan finally said, his voice quiet but steady.

Tae-min blinked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know you do, kiddo.”

His jaw tensed. Kwan didn't push. He didn’t need to.

“None of this is your fault,” Min-jae added. “We’re only upset because you were hurt. That’s all that matters.”

After a long pause, Tae-min exhaled. “They let me stay with Cass. For as long as I need. I think… they know they screwed up. The backlash is bad, isn’t it?”

Kwan nodded. “It is. And they deserve it.”

Min-jae dragged a hand over his face. “I should’ve done better by you. By both of you. We knew it could happen. ”

“You did everything you could,” Tae-min said, but his voice wavered. “This isn’t on you.”

He hesitated. Then, softer, “It wasn’t just a meltdown.”

The silence that followed was immediate and suffocating. Tae-min stared down at his hands, twisting the fabric of his sleeve like it was the only thing anchoring him. Cas reached out and laced her fingers through his. When he finally looked up at her, there was something raw and broken in his eyes. She squeezed his hand firmly—steadying, solid.

“The man at the party,” he said. “He reminded me of someone from… before.” 

Min-jae’s body went rigid. Tae-min didn’t talk about his past. Not like this.

“He did?” He asked carefully.

Tae-min nodded, barely a breath of movement. “I don’t like to think about it,” he whispered. “But you need to know. You need to understand why I reacted like that. That it can happen again.”

Confusion flickered across their faces.

“After my mother died... everything fell apart. It was like I was cursed and for the two following years it was hell.” Tae-min’s voice cracked. “The year I was fifteen was really rough. A lot happened. I was left alone, vulnerable. I fought with my brothers and left home. He found me. Alone. Easy prey.”

His hands tightened into fists.

“He offered help. I couldn’t refuse, I didn’t have options at the time. Or, well, it felt like it.”  His mouth twisted bitterly.  “He could see through me so easily, so he gave me attention and praised me, because he knew I was starved for it. The worst part was– It felt good , sometimes. When you’re starving for love, you’ll eat anything.”

He drew in a ragged breath.

“It was terrifying, but I was so numb at the time to fear it. He tried to mold me into something I hate. He was a predator—of a different kind. More of a collector, really. And I was something he wanted to own.”

A chill settled over the room.

“But I wasn’t stupid, I knew what he was doing. I wasn’t a person to him. Just… a thing. A weapon against my family. In the end, I got away. But not without damage.”

“Tae-ah…” Min-jae whispered, voice shaking. Fear and fury warred in his eyes, but he didn’t dare move closer yet. 

Tae-min’s eyes flickered to the floor.

“That man at the party… he looked at me as if I wasn't a person.” His voice broke. “And for a moment, I was fifteen again. Powerless and alone.”

No one moved. The weight of his words sat heavy in the air.

“I spent so long being seen as a commodity,” he said, voice almost too soft to hear. “ A toy for my father to show off, a party trick. A useful clutch to Bruce. A weapon for that man. And now that things are different—now that I have this, that I feel safe—I’m scared. I thought that I wasn’t anymore, but I’m still scared.”

Kwan’s voice broke the silence, rough and tight. “Scared of what?”

“Of going back to that cursed life,” Tae-min whispered. “Scared of losing the people who see me as more than what I can give them.”

Without hesitation, Jiho surged forward and wrapped his arms around Tae-min’s waist, pulling him in like he could shield him from the memories.

“You won’t,” Jiho said fiercely, voice thick. “We see you as you. You’re my little brother. Not a thing.”

“And we’re not going anywhere,” Min-jae added, voice rough. “No one’s ever going to touch you like that again. Not even the company. We won’t let them.”

Tae-min didn’t respond right away. But his shoulders relaxed, just slightly. His hand found Jiho’s, squeezing gently.

Later, after the others drifted away, giving space without needing to be asked, Cas found him sitting alone on the balcony.

Tae-min was hunched over, arms braced on his knees, head bowed like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will. The night wind ruffled his hair, cool against the heat burning behind his eyes.

Cas didn’t say anything. She just sat beside him, knees bumping his lightly, and waited.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. His fingers dug into his sleeves, twisting and pulling at the seams. His breath came sharp and uneven, like he was breathing around something lodged deep in his chest.

Then, in a voice so small it barely carried over the night air, he whispered, “I hate that it still hurts. I’m safe now. Why?”

Cas turned, resting her head lightly against his shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears broke free anyway—hot, shameful, unstoppable.

The first sob ripped out of him before he could smother it. He tried—God, he tried—but once it started, it wouldn’t stop. He folded in on himself, silent at first, then gasping, trying to hold himself together like he always did.

Cas shifted, pulling him into her arms, her grip firm and steady as she guided his head to her chest. She stroked his hair, murmuring soft, broken things he couldn’t make out but didn’t need to.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered. ”Just let it out.”

He clung to her like he was drowning, hands fisting in the fabric of her shirt. The tears came harder, shuddering through him, the years of silence and fear breaking open all at once.

Cas held him through it, rocking them both gently.

There was no rush. No expectation. No shame.

Just warmth. 

When the sobs finally ebbed into trembling breaths, Tae-min didn’t move right away. He stayed pressed close, letting the quiet wash over him, letting the shame bleed away into something softer—something lighter.

Cas kissed the top of his head, lingering.

“You’re healing,” she said against his hair. “That’s what this is.”

He sniffled, wiping his face against her shirt, and gave a weak, exhausted laugh.
“You’re gonna ruin your clothes.”

“Don’t care.” She smiled against his hair. 

He breathed out slowly, the tightness in his chest finally, finally loosening.

When he pulled back, his eyes were red and puffy, his face tear-streaked—but he was lighter, steadier.

He met her gaze and whispered, “Thank you.”

Cas just squeezed his hand in answer, as if to say: Always.

---

Weeks passed and Seoul was starting to feel warmer, even in early spring. Maybe it was the sun, or maybe it was just Tae-min.

Cass sat cross-legged on the polished floor of the practice studio, watching Eclipse rehearse with a strange sort of awe. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how good they were—she’d always known—but something about seeing them like this, in person, away from the blinding lights and expectations, made it all feel more real. More honest.

Tae-min, in the middle of it all, moved with quiet precision. He wasn’t the flashiest in the room—that was usually Jiho, with his infectious energy—or the loudest, that honor always went to Seojin. But there was a steadiness to him. A grace. She loved watching him this way.

Practice wound down and the others began trickling out. Jiho tossed a towel at Seojin’s head, Kwan and Min-jae were already glued to a phone together, probably dissecting footage of their footwork frame by frame. 

But Tae-min walked over to her instead, violin case in hand.

“For you,” he said with a small smile, already setting the instrument under his chin.

The notes were soft and winding, a melody she didn’t recognize but felt instantly familiar. Cass rested her chin in her hand, watching him—not just his hands, the way they danced across the strings, but his face. Focused. Gentle. He was someone rebuilding himself piece by piece, and every note he played felt like another part falling back into place.

Later, at lunch, they shared a quiet booth at a tucked-away café in Hongdae. She stole fries from his plate and teased him with a grin.

“Wild things online.” she said. “About you..”

Tae-min raised an eyebrow, amused. “What did I do this time?”

“You tell me, little brother”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing, and that was what she wanted most—to make him laugh. Really laugh.

Back at her apartment, Cass curled up on the couch with her phone while Tae-min settled beside her. On screen, the Eclipse members were being subjected to a chaotic Buzzfield interview. There were puppies involved, of course—too many, all climbing over Jiho while Tae-min tried to pretend he wasn’t charmed, but his eyes were soft and his ears red all the time.

“Fluffy,” she murmured, nudging his side, “My cute baby..”

“Lies and slander.”

She caught him smiling in the screen’s reflection.

That evening, he came to see her recital. The small theatre wasn’t packed, but it didn’t matter. Her muscles still trembled from exertion as she stepped offstage, only to find him waiting in the wings with a bouquet almost as tall as she was.

He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to.

As they walked home, the city lights sparkling around them, music still in her bones, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into a little spin under the streetlamp.

He gave an exaggerated bow. “May I have this dance?”

“You better.”

They danced clumsily down the sidewalk—her in a hoodie thrown over her leotard, him laughing as she spun into him. A few people filmed it, she was pretty sure. Let them.

Later, in black hoodies and masks, Orphan and Gwidam strolled quietly through the city, just another pair of shadows blending into the Seoul night. They chase each other on the roofs, laughing. No fights. No masks cracked or ribs bruised. Just a quiet patrol, side by side, the way they always moved best.

Back home, curled up on the roof, they scrolled through the flood of reactions. Comments about the Buzzfield interview, her recital, their stunt dancing in the street. Jokes. Praise. A few nasty things, of course. Always were.

She turned to him, her voice quiet in the hush of the room. “Are you happier now?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, he turned to her, fingers brushing hers. “I’m a bit scared,” he admitted. “Of losing this. I’m scared it won’t last. That I’ll be back to being just a little ghost again.”

Cass nodded slowly. “But you’re not. Not to me. You never were.”

He smiled, tired but real. “I know. And I’m happy. As long as I have my big sister with me.”

She leaned into his shoulder, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Always.”

Truth be told, she was also happy. Her life had never been simple. But she had her brothers, Alfred, Barbara, Stephanie. Her dad—even if she was still pissed at Bruce. Her mother, whom she was learning to understand again. Dance. 

She had friends now, good ones. The soft laughter she shared with Min-jae. The way Jiho called her “noona” like he meant it. The long runs with Seojin, the gentle nights watching K-dramas with Kwan. The chaos that Bart, Cassie Jason and Kon make in their visits. So many visits nowadays. From new and old idols, who would come to her, even when Tae wasn’t around, because “noona’s place is the best.” So many little brothers.

And she had Tae-min, her first little brother. Her home. Their home.

Maybe it wasn’t perfect. But it was theirs .

They were still healing, still carrying bruises. But they were doing it together.

And that meant they’d already won.

Chapter 10: Tae-min, the gremlin

For a while, Tae-min wasn’t sure why Cas kept making him show off whenever a camera was rolling.
At first, it made him really anxious — growing up, he’d learned to hide his abilities as Tim Drake. The less people could connect Robin to Tim, the safer he was.
But he trusted Cas. If she said it was fine, it was fine.
So he played along. And whenever someone asked, they just shrugged and said, "We’re from Gotham," like that explained everything weird they did.
The funny thing was... it did.
And Tae-min was so, so glad of it now.

 "Why are you grinning like that?" Seojin frowned at him suspiciously as they lined up for the first industry-wide scavenger hunt.

Tae-min just smiled wider.
He could be chaotic. He could be weird. He could show off.
He could finally be a kid .

"Cas is the best sister ever," he thought happily.

It was time to have fun.

---

Trending: Tae-min.

 @carateyes: Is it a Gotham thing? 

@Bernard_Down: No, is a Tae-min thing. Believe me.

---

Korea Dispatch – Entertainment Report:
"Tae-min’s Unstoppable Streak: Gotham Blood, Idol Heart"
By: Park Ji-eun

Eclipse’s Tae-min has quickly become a legend in both the idol and gaming worlds — and not just for his performances.

In a recent inter-group scavenger hunt, Tae-min outperformed seasoned idols, running, climbing, and navigating obstacles like a professional athlete. Footage of his wall-run, casual pickpocketing (in good fun!), and light-footed sprints has flooded social media.

While fans call it “Gotham Training” in reference to his background, Tae-min’s agency simply smiled when asked for comment:
"He’s just having fun. We’re happy he can show this side of himself."

Industry insiders praise Tae-min for blending intense skill with childlike joy.
“He’s so serious during schedules,” one staff member shared. “But when it’s a game? He becomes a kid again.”

Eclipse is currently preparing for upcoming activities, balancing their busy schedule with the knowledge that military service for the leader Min-jae looms closer.
Fans are treasuring every moment.

---

Reddit Thread: r/kpopchaos
 "Tae-min won a scavenger hunt without breathing hard and i’m scared (and proud)"

u/minty_sprout:
How does he DO IT?? 

u/gothamblooded:
You can’t compete with Gotham.

u/kookiecries:
I need answers, he is a pickpocketing master.

u/eclipsethings:
everyone else: plans strategies
tae-min: pure chaotic instinct + terrifying reflexes + tiny smile

u/saddaysundae:
the way even staff were just letting him do crimes LMAO

u/seraphsoongi:
idols: studied for weeks
tae-min: "i’m from Gotham." (wins instantly)

u/kwansleeptime:
Kwan’s face when tae-min won  without touching him should be in the Louvre 

u/peachyprince:
not even mad. he deserves it. let the Gotham boy have his W.

---

Interview: Eclipse Min-jae and Kwan
[Translated excerpts – Idol Weekly Korea]

Q: Everyone’s still talking about Tae-min winning the scavenger hunt. What’s his secret?

Min-jae (laughing):
" I don’t even know if he thinks about it — he just moves."

Kwan:
"It’s like… he’s always alert, but when there’s a game, it’s the only time he lets go. He becomes a kid. You see him laughing, really laughing, and you don’t want it to stop."

Q: It sounds like you’re really proud of him.

Min-jae:
"Of course. He’s serious so much of the time. Training, recording, interviews — he’s focused, careful. But when it’s a game... it’s like you see who he should be. Without all the pressure."

Kwan (softly):
"He deserves to have fun."

Q: And you, Min-jae. How are you preparing for your upcoming enlistment?

Min-jae:
"We’re getting ready. There’s a timeline now. It’s scary, but we know it’s part of life here."

Kwan: “ We are going to miss you a lot.”

Q: Any final thoughts about the scavenger hunt victory?

Min-jae (grinning):
"I’m just saying: if there’s ever an apocalypse, I’m teaming up with Tae-min."

Kwan:
"He’s Gotham’s champion. We’re just trying to keep up."

 

---

Min-jae leaned against the railing, watching from a distance as Tae-min, Jiho, and Seojin raced across the garden.
Their laughter carried on the evening air, light and careless — a rare kind of happiness.
He smiled faintly, committing the sound to memory.

Soon, he thought.
Soon, he would have to step away for a while — enlist, serve, and leave behind this little world they built together.
He wasn’t afraid of military service itself.
He was afraid of the silence.
Of missing moments like this.

A soft nudge at his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts.

Kwan was beside him, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, eyes following the chaos on the grass.
"You’re thinking too loud," Kwan said, half a smile tugging at his lips.

Min-jae huffed a quiet laugh. "Sorry."

They stood in easy silence for a moment, the sun slipping lower on the horizon.

"You’re not leaving forever, you know," Kwan said, voice low, sure.
"I’ll keep everything together. I’ll keep them together."
He hesitated, then added, almost too quietly:
"I’ll be waiting for you, too."

Min-jae turned, catching Kwan’s gaze — steady, unflinching.
There was something there between them, unspoken but understood.
It warmed the hollow spaces in his chest.

"Thanks," Min-jae said simply.
It didn’t feel like enough, but Kwan smiled like it was.

"And hey," Kwan added with a crooked grin, bumping his shoulder against Min-jae’s, "someone’s gotta make sure our ‘kid’ doesn’t burn the dorm down while you’re gone."

As if summoned, Tae-min came barreling toward them, laughing breathlessly.
"MIN-JAE-HYUNG!" he shouted, arms outstretched.

Min-jae caught him without thinking, steadying both of them with a grunt.
Tae-min immediately shoved his phone under Min-jae’s nose, screen still recording.

"My challenge," Tae-min announced proudly, "was to run to someone I knew would catch me."
He grinned, cheeks flushed from running, eyes bright.

Kwan peeked at the camera and smirked. "You little gremlin."

Tae-min added cheekily, "Papa and Mama always catch me!"
He pointed dramatically — Min-jae, holding him, and Kwan steading his back.

"You’re not calling me Mama."

Min-jae laughed quietly as Tae-min clung to him for more than he usually would.
Min-jae also tightened his hold for a second longer than necessary, feeling the pulse of home, of belonging.
When he left for service, they would still be here.
Kwan would still be here.
Waiting.

And when he came back — he would run back to them, just like this.
And someone would catch him.

Always.

---

[Instagram Story – @official_fanchant_hub]

[Video Clip]: Tae-min sprinting full speed across the garden, launching himself at Min-jae — who catches him flawlessly.

[Text overlay]:
"Tae-min really said family first 💕 #eclipse #foundfamily #mamaKwanPapaMinjae"

 Comments:
@seokieluv: " THEY’RE LIKE A LITTLE FAMILY"
@taeminssmile: "the way min-jae caught him without blinking omg"
@kwanbiased: "Kwan complaining but we all know he’s the softest mom"

 

Chapter 11: Wanderer

Notes:

Yes, it is based on Jackson Wang.
The guy is everywhere,

There was an old joke in industry circles: Tae-min was too Gothamite to be tamed, so his company just… gave up.

He eventually broke every rule of idol decorum, every standard for a polished, presentable public image — and somehow, it worked.

At first, they tried to control him:  Media training. Soft image concepts. PR-approved scripts.
He passed all of it with flying colors.

He knew how to behave — he was a socialite child, after all — he just didn’t want to.

In the end, he wasn’t the golden child of the industry.
He was the wild card.

But he was entertaining — wildly, unreasonably so — and well-liked .
Too magnetic to blacklist, too unpredictable to ignore.

So instead, he became a myth.

A walking cautionary tale and an aspirational dream all at once.
New idols whispered about him backstage:

“He’s like Jackson Wang and BamBam from GOT7… but worse.”
“Worse how?”
“Like… hot mess but in 4K resolution.”

Usually, his group members acted as minders in interviews, subtly nudging him back on track when he strayed too far.
But sometimes — just sometimes — they’d let him off the leash and just… enjoy the chaos in the aftermath.

And the guy was everywhere .

Clips of him basking shirtless on a remote beach in Australia went viral with the caption:

“Did Eclipse go on hiatus or is Tae-min just taking side quests now?”

He was spotted skating through narrow alleys in Bangkok, hoodie up, chased by stray cats.
One week, he was filming ghost-hunting videos with the BuzzFeed Unsolved crew (and Bernard Down, inexplicably), whispering "this is cursed" before disappearing into a tunnel.
The next, he was livestreaming from a Gotham rooftop with vigilante cosplayers, feet dangling over the edge, giggling as someone off-camera handed him a bat-shaped cupcake.

And then there was the Superboy incident.
A blurry morning clip showed him being dropped off by someone very tall in red and blue.
He turned to the camera and winked.

“Thanks for the ride, handsome.”

Fans nearly combusted.

For the company, it was a PR nightmare.
For the fans, it was the best show on earth.

---

@softkwan: “WHY IS TAE-MIN IN AN ECO-VILLAGE IN SPAIN?? IS THAT A GOAT??”
@eclipseupdates: “He said he was going to get coffee in seoul… now he’s at a LGBTQ+ protest in san francisco???”
@taeMINISTER: “his passport must be a storybook by now.”

---

And then, Eclipse went on hiatus.
Min-jae enlisted for his mandatory military service.
And Tae-min… unraveled a little.

The lore went feral.
Fans started tracking sightings like he was a cryptid.

Sometimes he was spotted with Jiho, Seojin or Kwan.
Other times, with his sister.
Most of the time, he was alone — just Tae-min and a camera, or a notebook, or a bike.
He did charity work, a lot of it — quietly, consistently — earning him the affectionate nickname “Lady Tae.”
He was also seen bungee jumping, volunteering at an animal shelter in Peru, racing motorcycles, and — allegedly — appearing in a Greenpeace video.
(“No comment,” said the company. “That’s definitely him,” said everyone else.)

It was like he couldn’t stay put.

It was like he was running. 

---

In an interview, Seojin was asked directly about it.

He laughed, tugging his hoodie over his mouth.

“He’s been… restless. You know, they’re kind of like cats. Him and Min-jae. With papa cat gone, the little one is just… climbing the curtains until he comes back.”
He paused.
“But he’s okay. Just missing him, in his own way.”

---

It was late when Kwan found him.
Tae-min was curled up on the couch, hoodie over his head, eyes glued to some cooking show  he used to watch with Min-jae. He hadn’t said much all day.

Kwan walked in, holding two mugs of hot chocolate.

“Here,” he said, placing one in front of him.

Tae-min peeked out, hair tousled.

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a while, the low hum of the television filling the space.

Finally, Tae-min mumbled, “It’s quiet without him.”

Kwan nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

“Do you think he misses us?”

Kwan smiled softly.

“I know he does.”

Tae-min sighed, then leaned his head on Kwan’s shoulder  just for a second.

“You’re not gonna go too, right?”

Kwan didn’t answer right away.
Then, gently:

“I’ll be here. Holding the fort. Until he comes back.”

---

Letter from Kwan

Jae

 So. It’s been three months.

The dorm is too quiet without you.
Not in volume — Seojin still exists — but in rhythm. You kept us all steady, and I feel the shift now that you’re not here. Like trying to dance with one shoe missing. I’ve been waking up earlier. Cooking more. Cleaning your space like an idiot, even though you told me not to.

Tae-min’s been going on his little "missions" again. You know how he gets — restless, impulsive. I think he is trying not to think. He’s been clingier too. Sleeps on the couch now. Sometimes in my bed, when he thinks I won’t notice. Last week he wrapped himself in your old hoodie like a blanket burrito and refused to speak.

He misses you. We all do.

As for me…
I miss your stupid laughter when you’re trying not to laugh. I miss the way you read in the kitchen like a grandpa. I miss your voice saying my name like it’s a safe place.

Stay safe. Stay warm. I’ll hold the fort — just like I said.
And when you’re back… I’ll be waiting.

Always yours,
Kwan

---

 Letter from Seojin

Dear Grandpa-hyung,

How’s military service? Are you finally learning how to march like a normal person?
Did they shave your head? Can I see?

I’m holding up fine. I took your spot at the kitchen table. Feels weird. Jiho tried to make your seaweed soup and almost set the stove on fire. (We made him write an apology haiku.)

Oh, and Tae-min crashed a Vespa in Croatia last week. Not badly! Just dramatically. We didn't know he was even there, that superboy of his is carrying him around like a taxi.  Kwan had a visible aneurysm.

I still can’t believe you left me here to suffer.
Hope they make you do push-ups in the rain.

See you soon,
Seojin
P.S. I’m still stealing your mugs. No regrets.

---

 Letter from Jiho

Min-jae Hyung

I hope you're eating well and getting enough rest.
Everyone misses you a lot — even if Seojin pretends he doesn't.

I've been working hard on vocals like you told me.
Kwan said my high notes are getting stronger! Tae-min tried to harmonize with me by yodeling. It was... not helpful.

The dorm is okay, but it doesn’t feel the same without you.
I miss our late-night walks and the way you always made time for me when I felt small.

Come home safe. We’re counting the days.

Love,
Jiho

P.S. I saved your favorite mug from Seojin. You're welcome.

---

Letter from Tae-min

Papa Brother Baba Hyung.

I learned how to bake. I even did Seojin’s birthday cake and he cried, but he won’t admit it..

This week I’ve been in: Japan (briefly), Taiwan (with Cass) and Busan (don’t ask). Don’t worry, I have a good ride and I’m being safe, despite what Seojin might say. Mrs Lee said she gave up on me being put, but I know she thinks it is good publicity. I found Jackson Wang in Japan. He is a funny guy.

What else?

I miss you. Like, a lot .
It’s not the same without you around to yell “Tae-min, no” at the exact moment I’m about to do something awesome and stupid. I miss your hugs, and our quiet time. It’s quiet without you, but is a loud quiet, not right.

Kwan pretends he’s chill but he makes your soup at 3am and stands at the window like a tragic husband in a drama. So, we started watching cooking shows, like we used to do. I’m taking care of him, don’t worry.

Come back soon. I saved all my dumbest stories for you.

Your favorite child,
Tae-min

P.S. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to organize my thoughts, it’s kind of a mess.

---

 Reply from Min-jae (sent a week later)

Kwan,

You have no idea how much I needed these letters.

I miss you. So much it’s a kind of ache.
I keep hearing your voice in my head when things get hard. You always made it look easy, but I know now how strong you had to be for all of us.
Thank you for waiting. I’ll come back to you. That's a promise.

I don't have much time to write to everyone as I would like, so please tell Seojin to send the haiku and leave my mugs alone.

Tell Jiho to keep singing. He is the heart of this group, don’t he ever forget that.

Tell Tae-min that he doesn’t need to ever say sorry. I’ll always understand him. I miss our quiet times too.

That kid and I, we’re so much alike.

I’ll write again soon.
Tell the others I love them. And tell yourself that too, okay?

Be good. Or at least don’t get caught.

Love,
Min-jae

---

 Tae-min posted a short video on his private story that fans, somehow, got their hands on.

It started with him running across a field, camera jostling.
He threw himself into someone’s arms. 

Offscreen, someone (Jiho) yelled, “What are you doing?”

Tae-min grinned into the lens.

“He always catches me.”

He turned the camera.
Min-jae, in his military vest, was holding him with a long-suffering smile.
Kwan was behind them, laughing.

---

@eclipsefan911: “Are they visiting Min-jae???”
@koreatwtmess: “That is his papa.”
@adopttaeproject: “he just needs snacks and hugs and like… maybe a leash”
@kwanminjaeforever: “they’re literally raising him. softest throuple ever.”

 

 

Notes:

What do you do when you accidentaly start to ship your own characters?
Let me know.
KwanJae forever.

Chapter 12: Little Creature

Summary:

Janet had loved Tim, she just didn't know how to do right by him.

Notes:

Janet had loved Tim, she just didn't know how to do right by him.

Janet first met Jack Drake in the Seoul airport, of all places.

She was twenty-three. Sharp as the cold wind slicing through her coat. He was older. Charming in the way men with too much money and too little supervision often are—wide smile, easy posture, loud American vowels. She had been translating for a museum team. He had been touring “the East,” as he called it, as if it were one sprawling exhibit.

He thought she was delicate. Elegant.
She thought he was simple. But kind.

They married quickly.

He brought her to Gotham and gave her silence in return. Not the comforting silence she liked, but the smothering kind—one filled with expectations and constant corrections.

“It’s Janet now. Not Ji-won.”
“English, please.”

She stopped correcting him after a while. It was easier.

---

Tim was born in winter.

He was born soft, and she feared the world would harden him.

A quiet baby. Too quiet. The doctors said he was fine, but she knew something was different.

He wouldn’t cry unless something was very wrong. He watched the world like it might disappear. When he did speak, it was in full sentences. With precision. He memorized the subway map when he was three and liked detective stories beyond his age, like she used to do.

He used to spin around in the house, dancing to music he only could hear and write partitures with crayons, like her father used to do. 

She knew he was brilliant. 

She knew he was lonely.

And she didn’t know how to reach him.

---

There were days—weeks—where the world felt like it had been dipped in oil. Her own body felt like a foreign country. Every light too bright, every voice too loud, every word from Jack a code she couldn’t decipher. She knew other people didn’t feel this way, that they didn’t shut down when plans changed or spiral when someone touched them unexpectedly. She didn’t have a word for it then. Just shame. And exhaustion.

Jack thought she was cold.

Tim… Tim was the only one who never seemed to mind her silence.

Still, she couldn’t hold him right. She tried once, when he was two and the Graysons had fallen and she didn’t know how to help him when he cried all night from the trauma. 

He flinched. 

She let go. 

And after that, she stopped trying.

“I don’t think he likes me,” she told Jack once.
Jack said, “He doesn’t like anyone.” And laughed.

She knew better.

---

Later, when Jack started to lose his temper more often, she told herself it was just stress. That he wasn’t really dangerous. That he loved them in his way. But there was a rage in him—something ugly and fast and unpredictable. It came out of nowhere, like thunder.

She took Tim to Koreatown or the museum when things got bad. They’d walk the halls for hours, not speaking. He liked the mummies, the ones with soft, painted eyes. 

He would make stories about them, how they lived, what they did. How they died. He was a morbid little creature.

“They’re not afraid,” he said once. “Maybe they knew what would happen after.”

“How could they not be afraid of death?” She asked, part to humour him, part really interested in his thinking.

“Sometimes,” he said, looking at her. “The afterlife can be kinder.”

She didn’t ask what he meant with that.

---

When Tim was six, Jack insisted she come with him on a long trip. “We need to be a couple again,” he said. “You need to stop hovering.”

She didn’t want to go.

She didn’t want to leave Tim in Gotham. Alone.

But she was scared. And tired. And she believed, for just long enough, that maybe they could start over. That Jack might calm down.

So she went.

And by the time they returned, Tim had learned how to survive without her.

---

He was still her little creature, but sometimes it was difficult to recognize him.

He looked like her, which frightened her. So pale he looked almost translucent in certain light. Like a ghost caught between places. Quick-footed and unreadable, bright in strange ways. Always watching. Always gone the moment you turned around.

 He reminded her of the winter winds in Busan—beautiful, cutting, quiet.

When they went to KoreaTown behind Jack’s back, he would look at her with those blue eyes in her father's face, with her mother's little smile and dimples, and she would feel an ache and sadness that was almost as big as her love for him.

 A love she didn’t know how to say.

---

 

There was her .

The woman in the museum.

It had been an exhibit on ancient weaponry. Janet had gone alone. The woman had commented on a sculpture in near-perfect Korean. They’d spoken for a while—first about art, then about memory, then about grief. Janet hadn’t known how to flirt. She still didn’t. But the woman smiled at her like the sun itself was pleased.

They met again. And again. Until one day, Janet looked up and realized she was happy, just for a moment. Not safe. Not whole. But less alone.

She found out who she was later. Princess. Warrior. Immortal. 

Of course. Of course.

Little Ji-won, always trying to reach for something she couldn't have.

---

When Janet felt the poison, her hands began to tremble. Her breath came too short and there was blood in her mouth.

The world slowed down. The light turned strange. 

Jack was there, talking to her, but she couldn’t hear anything behind the screams in her head.

Until she closed her eyes and everything went quiet, except for a music in her fathers voice, calling her home.

Her last thought was not of Jack, or of Wonder Woman.

Her last thought was of Tim, as he had been at five years old, standing in front of the mummy exhibit. His blue eyes, his dimples. Her beautiful little creature.

“They’re not afraid,” he had said. “The afterlife can be kinder.”

She had believed him.

Notes:

As an autistic woman was I projecting in Janet? Hell yeah.
Also, Janet had a crush on Diana. More about it will came later. She was as a bisexual disaster as her son.

Chapter 13: About ghosts

Summary:

Tae-min is eighteen now, and his mother left something important for him.

Tae-min turned the brass key in the old lock, the metal protesting with a reluctant click . The door creaked open, and a breath of stale, dusty air greeted them, as if the apartment had been holding its breath for years.

“It smells like paper,” Cass said softly, stepping inside behind him, her gloved fingers trailing along the faded wall and dust.

Kon stood at the threshold, scanning the space instinctively, like he always did when they entered the unknown. But there was no danger here. Only memory. Only ghosts.

The apartment was small and quiet, tucked into an ancient street in Lyon, its windows shuttered tightly against the spring light. There were books everywhere—spines lined neatly along every wall, stacked on tables, bundled in twine as if prepared for a move that never happened. A piano leaned against the far corner, its keys yellowed.

And there, in the corner, was a violin case.

Tae-min stood in the center of it all, still, like he didn’t quite belong in the space his mother had made before he was even old enough to imagine it.

“She lived here?” he asked, voice low.

The attorney hadn’t given much detail. Only that Janet Drake—Ji-won—had kept this apartment quietly, legally hers but known by no one, for reasons left unsaid. She’d left it to Tae-min in her will, along with her parents’ old house in Busan, her father’s musical instruments and compositions.

Kon ran a hand through his hair, looking around. “It’s... beautiful,” he said, because it was.

And because Tae-min hadn’t said anything else yet.

Cass moved first, opening a set of drawers, carefully lifting a folded silk scarf, a cracked leather notebook. She laid them out gently on the table like offerings.

Tae-min followed her, his hands hovering over the objects before finally landing on a wooden box. Inside, wrapped in tissue, were letters.

All addressed to him.

None ever sent.

The dates stretched from years before he was born until almost the very end.

Cass touched his shoulder. “Do you want us to…?”

“No.” He shook his head. Then softer, “But… stay.”

So they sat with him, on the floor, as he pulled out the letters one by one, unfolding the brittle paper, reading quietly. His eyes moved steadily, his breath hitching only once, when he found the one where she had written, “You remind me of the wind in Busan—quiet, beautiful, impossible to catch.”

Cass leaned her head against his arm. Kon rested his elbows on his knees, watching him, waiting for whatever Tae-min wanted to say.

“She… I didn’t know she…” Tae-min’s voice broke and he swallowed hard. “She wrote all this. She… thought about me.”

“Of course she did,” Cass whispered.

Tae-min set the letter aside and reached for a stack of photographs bound in a red ribbon. He untied it slowly, reverently. The photos spilled onto the floor.

Janet—Ji-won—smiling in a summer dress. Holding a coffee in front of a museum. Walking along a narrow European street. And then—

“Is that…” Kon leaned closer, blinking.

There, standing beside her in several of the pictures, was a tall woman with dark hair braided down her back, a posture that was unmistakable. Strong, graceful. Timeless.

“Diana,” Cass said first, quiet but certain.

Tae-min exhaled a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, something finally clicking. “Her Prince.”

He touched the photo, tracing his mother’s hand looped easily through Diana’s arm. They looked happy. Free.

“She talks about her in the letters,” Tae-min murmured, “Her beautiful friend.”

“More than friends?” Kon asked, raising an eyebrow gently.

Tae-min didn’t answer, but his lips curved, faintly, like he’d realized something he wasn’t ready to say out loud.

“She knew…” He smiled to himself, eyes still on the photograph. “When I was Robin, the first time that she saw me, she called me like my mother used to do.”

Hello, little creature.

For a moment then, it was like his mother was there with them. He never asked Diana about it, always thinking she resented him somehow—that Jason was her favorite Robin, and he was only the interloper. She always looked at him from a distance, with something that now he could identify as longing.

“Are you going to talk with her about it?” Kon asked, curious.

“Maybe.”

He would. Someday.

They sat there together, surrounded by Janet’s life—her words, her books, her silent history she’d never managed to share in life but left here, tucked away, waiting for him.

Janet, like Tae-min, was always running away.

She had left him a place to run to.

Later, as they unpacked the rest of the apartment, Cass pulled a hard leather case from the corner, wiped away the dust, and set it before Tae-min without a word.

He knelt down, fingers hesitant at first, then more sure as he unlatched the case.

The velvet inside was faded, but the violin was pristine, aged beautifully by time rather than wear. He touched the smooth wood, tracing its elegant curves, then lifted the folded papers tucked beneath it—scores in his grandfather’s hand, some yellowed, some crisp, all meticulously composed.

Cass unfolded one of the old photographs wedged between the sheets and held it up. “Tae… look.”

It was a black-and-white image: his grandparents, standing outside the house in Busan, his grandfather holding the very same violin in his left hand, his arm slung around his wife.

Tae-min stared at the photo, then at the mirror across the room, catching a glimpse of himself. The same cheekbones. The same arched eyebrows. The same mouth.

His eyes—those were Jack’s, he’d always known—but everything else...

“He looks like you,” Cass said softly, confirming what he already realized.

Without thinking, Tae-min stood, tucked the violin beneath his chin, and, after tunning it, began to play.

It was one of the compositions from the case—slow, aching, something between a lullaby and a prayer. The notes filled the apartment, curling around the furniture, weaving through the dust motes like something alive.

And for a moment, as the sound settled around him, he felt it—that he wasn’t playing alone.

That his grandfather was there.

That his mother was, too.

He closed his eyes, leaning into the music, wishing they could see him now. Wishing he could have known them, or they him, in a different way.

Kon watched from the doorway, something raw in his chest he couldn’t quite name. Tae-min looked so beautiful then—weightless, untouchable, like something made of music and grief.

He always did.

Cass wiped her eyes, then leaned against Kon’s shoulder, and he barely noticed because he couldn’t take his eyes off Tae-min.

Later, in the bathroom, as they washed the dust from their hands and faces, Tae-min caught his reflection in the old mirror.

But this time, it wasn’t just his mother’s face that stared back.

It was his grandfather’s too, layered beneath, in the tilt of his jaw, in the elegant length of his fingers.

He was so mesmerized by the resemblance that he didn’t even notice Kon watching him from the doorway, silent and careful, like he always was when it mattered most.

“Your hair,” Kon said, voice almost reverent.

“What?”

Kon approached him, his reflection appearing behind Tae-min’s in the mirror, and carefully took a streak of pale silver between his fingers, holding it up to the light.

“It’s getting white.”

They exchanged a glance in the mirror. From his face, Kon knew that Tae-min had realized it before—that he knew exactly what was happening.

But neither said it.

“Let’s eat,” Tae-min said instead, his voice quieter than usual.

Later, after they packed the letters carefully and closed the apartment, Kon lingered by the doorway as Tae-min checked the windows one last time.

“Tae,” he said quietly.

Tae-min turned.

Kon’s mouth opened, then closed.

But all he said was: “Ready to go?”

Tae-min nodded.

Kon didn’t say what he wanted to—that Tae-min’s hair was turning white like frost slowly creeping through his midnight strands, that Cass had noticed first weeks ago and kept silent, unsure if it was stress or something else.

Kon knew better. That power of his… it was changing him, quietly, steadily. It was probably time to make him call Constantine.

But not now.

Instead, he just walked beside him down the narrow Lyon street, Cass on the other side, both of them flanking Tae-min the way they always did.

His found family, wrapped around him, carrying him forward through all the things he hadn’t known, all the things he was still learning, one letter, one note, one breath at a time.

Notes:

Tae-min to Jason: Wonder Woman, your favourite, was almost my stepmother.
Did Tae-min got the Danny Phantom treatment? Maybe.
The good thing is the idols change hair all the time, nobody would notice.
Constantine, poor guy, needs to visit his little ghost child and baby entity. His headache.

Next chapter will be some letters never sent: bruce being a loser, janet trying to be a mother, tae-min and kon longing to each other without realizing it.
Let me now if you want a letter from someone in special.

Chapter 14: If the world was kinder

Summary:

Diana met Ji-Won's son

The Batcave was colder than she remembered.

Her heels clicked softly against the uneven stone floor, each step echoing in the vast hollow darkness, the only sound apart from the low, steady hum of the computer systems in sleep mode. She had come with purpose, with fury—prepared to confront Bruce again, to remind him of the unbearable cost of the mantle he kept placing on children’s shoulders.

Jason’s death was still raw in her chest, an open wound that Gotham’s silence only deepened. The kid she had learn to love was gone.

And now there was another Robin.

Diana inhaled sharply, steeling herself for the inevitable confrontation.

But then—

She saw him.

Not Bruce.

A boy.

He was across the cave, absorbed in a set of rapid, precise strikes against a reinforced training dummy. His body was lean, small but already honed into the sharp outlines of a fighter, his movements a seamless blend of instinct and relentless practice. He wasn’t wearing a mask—just training clothes soaked in sweat, his dark hair plastered to his brow, his cheeks still round with youth.

Diana froze.

Because she knew that face.

The boy spun sharply, driving a kick into the dummy’s chest, sending it crashing back against its moorings with a metallic screech. He paused, wiping at his brow, then turned—and their eyes locked for the first time, wide and alert.

They were ice blue, not his mother’s deep brown.

Eyes of winter, Ji-won used to say.
A Busan ice sprite, a little creature of winter. I think it quite fits—the son of the Ice Queen. That’s how the buffoons call me back in Gotham.

He looked at her, part awed, part wary. He knew who she was, but not why she’d come. Clark had told her about the fight he’d had with Bruce over the new Robin. The kid must think she’d come for the same reason.

And he was ready to fight for his place.

In that instant, she saw Ji-won in him—not just in the shape of his brow or the angle of his jaw, but in the fierce, guarded set of his shoulders, the practiced distance in his expression. The same quiet defiance Ji-won had worn since the day Diana first met her, standing in that museum, tangled in the mess of her own life.

“Oh…” Diana breathed, before she could stop herself.

The boy tensed instantly, straightening, his fists loosely clenched at his sides. “Does Batman know you’re here?”

His voice was steady, wary, layered with the brittle composure of someone who had learned too early to be ready for disappointment, for confrontation.

He was alone. Ji-Won’s son was all alone. So alone that he was trying to find a family with a man who was so broken now that it could only hurt both of them. 

Ji-won, where are you? Why aren’t you here with your baby?

She loved her son more than anything, Diana knew it. She had stayed with Jack for him, she had chipped parts of her to be someone she wasn’t for him. She gave up Diana's company.  She did everything, except stay for him. Why?

Diana took a slow step closer, her voice softening, all her carefully rehearsed fury faltering. “I’m here for you, Robin. To talk.”

Something flickered behind his eyes—that old, bone-deep weariness she’d seen so many times before. In Ji-Won. Ready to fight the world.

“You’re…” She wanted to say it, to name the thing she already knew: Ji-won’s son. But the words stuck behind years of complicated history, of friendship, absence, and grief. “…a child.”

“I’m old enough,” he shot back, steel in his voice.

“Are you?” Diana asked gently, halting a respectful distance away. “Is that what Batman says?”

“Batman doesn’t have a say in what I do.” His chin tipped up, defiant. “I’m here despite him. He needs help. He was driving himself to the grave. Where were you then? You, Superman, you abandoned him.”

The cave was so silent that the faint drip of water from the ceiling seemed deafening.

He is brave . Ji-Won said. But not for himself. For others, he is kinder to others than to himself.

Diana swallowed thickly, her mind racing between Bruce’s self destruction and Ji-won’s long absence. Ji-won has been abroad for months now. The last time they spoke, it had ended in a fight—about a lot of things, one of them her son. The son she left behind again and again, running away from everything, including Diana.

Now she was with Jack—her husband—somewhere far away, as if she could ever outrun what she carried: herself.

But here was her son.

Alone.

Wearing this.

Robin.

Defending a man so lost in grief that he could not give the love he deserves.

Diana’s heart clenched painfully.

She had come ready to berate Bruce for this exact cruelty: for putting yet another child in the line of fire, arming them with grief and training, sending them into the dark.

But standing here, looking at this boy, she saw that he wasn’t here because Bruce had made him. He was here because he had chosen to be.

It wasn’t just for Robin, it was because he thought he didn’t have anything else. 

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she said quietly.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.

“Does your family know?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

He looked down, something flickering across his face—regret, guilt, or something more complicated. Resignation.

“She… they have… other things to worry about.”

She. Ji-won.

Diana’s voice softened instinctively, slipping into the cadence she always used with Ji-won, the same words Ji-won would say about her son, almost in exasperated affection.

“You little creature…” she murmured, before she could stop herself.

The boy blinked, startled.

“You sound like…” he said quietly, trailing off, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

Diana smiled, small and sad.

For a long moment, they stood in silence.

And then it hit her—what Clark had said, what Dick had told him about the stubborn kid who had been running around Gotham streets for years.

He would do this with or without Bruce’s blessing.

He was already here, in this cave, wearing the colors, moving through the drills as if his life depended on it.

“You’d go alone if he didn’t let you,” she said, more statement than question.

He shrugged one shoulder. “He didn’t. At first.”

Of course he hadn’t.

But the boy had come anyway.

Diana exhaled slowly, the sharp edges of all her anger slipping away like sand through open fingers.

“You remind me of a friend,” she said softly.

His mouth twitched at that, but he didn’t answer.

She lingered a moment longer, then turned toward the shadows where she knew Bruce was standing, just beyond the line of sight, listening in silence as always.

Her fury was gone. But in its place was something heavier: inevitability.

---

The stars shifted in the vast emptiness of space, but when Diana returned to Earth, everything felt smaller. Closer. Suffocating.

She heard the news before she even set foot on Themyscira—Ji-won was gone.

Dead.

No ceremony, no headlines.

Just silence, buried beneath the crushing machinery of Gotham’s indifference.

The funeral had already passed, folded into quiet grief far from Diana’s reach.

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t know how to.

Instead, she went to Gotham.

The cave was colder still, emptier in a way that made her feel the hollowness in her chest like a physical ache.

Bruce was there, of course, seated at the computer, posture rigid, eyes fixed on a case file but seeing something far older, far heavier.

“I heard what happened,” she said softly.

“He’s upstairs,” Bruce replied, not looking at her. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Diana crossed her arms, staring at the floor for a long time before speaking again. She didn’t ask how he knew. They never spoke about it, but he must have known about her and Ji-won’s connection.

Bruce always knew everything.

“Who’s taking care of him now?”

Bruce looked up then, his expression sharp, but tired.

“I am. His father is in a coma, I’m his guardian.”

Diana nodded slowly, the words catching in her throat.

Of course.

Bruce had claimed him long ago, in the only way Bruce ever claimed anyone: quietly, relentlessly, without fanfare. Along the way, the kid had carved a path in his heart. He was impossible not to love.

For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder—maybe, just maybe, she could take him in. Take him away from this life, give him something his mother no longer could: peace. Distance from this endless war.

But Bruce had already made his claim, and she could see in the set of his jaw that he’d fight for him. He was already his son. And after Jason…

So she stepped back.

She would protect him from afar, as she has been doing all this time. Waiting for a time that he would come for her.

And yet—

Years later, when the news reached her that Tim Drake-Wayne had run away from Gotham, disappearing into the cracks of the world in ways Bruce had never been able to prevent, she wondered—

I should have taken him.

She should have ignored Bruce’s guarded confidence that he could handle it.

She thought of Ji-won’s little apartment, where she would buy things imagining the day she’d live there with her son. If the world had been kinder, maybe she would have.

But this was not a kind world.

Ji-won was dead. Her son was in the wind. And Diana was alone with her memories and regrets.

---

In a city far from Gotham, on the edges of a mission gone sideways, Diana saw him again.

The battlefield was chaos: smoke, crumbling buildings, the night split by the shriek of sirens. She moved through it with the effortless precision of someone who had seen too many wars, too many cities fall.

But then, through the smoke, she caught a glimpse of someone moving with equal precision. Slipping between shadows, his body still not grown out of that lean, adolescent frame she remembered—unmistakably him.

Gwidan. That was what they called him now.

A myth wrapped in armor, his face hidden beneath a sleek, impassive mask, his movements surgical, ruthless.

The boy she had met in the Batcave, the little creature Ji-won had loved, now a young man shaped by a different kind of silence.

Their eyes met across the battlefield, just for a second.

Recognition sparked, sharp and electric.

He paused, just a breath.

And then he was gone, disappearing into the smoke, into the fight, into the life he had chosen for himself.

---

Afterward, at the Watchtower, during the debrief, as Diana tried to track him among his wild, protective friends, he surprised her.

He just appeared at her side—silent, steady—so much like his sister Cassandra.

His winter eyes, hidden beneath the shadow of his hood, flicked up to meet hers.

Without a word, he reached out and pressed an envelope into her hand, then quietly turned and walked away, vanishing back into the tangle of his friends before she could even call after him.

Later, alone in one of the quieter hallways of the tower, she opened it.

Inside were photographs—old, faded, their edges worn soft by time.

Pictures of her and Ji-won: arms slung around each other, caught mid-laughter beneath some forgotten sun. 

Diana traced the images with her fingertips, a tight ache blooming in her chest.

When she finally looked up, he was there—watching her from a few feet away, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression uncertain but open in a way she hadn’t seen before.

He cleared his throat, then asked, almost shyly, “One day… could you tell me the stories behind these?”

Diana smiled, even as the ache deepened. “I could tell you even more than that.”

She paused, then asked gently, “Did you… find her hideout?”

He nodded, glancing away with a brief flash of embarrassment. “It’s… it’s not a place to run away anymore.” He swallowed hard, then lifted his chin with quiet conviction. “I’m going to make it… home.”

Diana’s smile softened, full of all the things she hadn’t been able to say before. “You should.” She tipped her head. “And you should invite me to visit.”

At that, he smiled—a small, rare, true smile.

Diana watched as he turned and walked back to where Kon-El was standing, arms crossed and eyes sharp, already watching her like a challenge: daring her to say anything that might hurt his friend.

She chuckled softly as Tae-min slipped his arms around Kon’s waist, letting himself be pulled into a fierce, protective hug.

Almost instantly, Cassie and Barry’s grandson were there too, throwing their arms around him from all sides, piling on without hesitation, ignoring the curious or disapproving looks from a few of the older heroes nearby.

Across the room, Jason’s voice rang out—sharp, exasperated, but undeniably fond:

“Let go of him, idiots! You’ve got super strength!”

Kon just snorted. “As if we’d ever hurt him.”

“Even sleeping, Kon hugs me nicely,” Tae-min added, with that same wry humor.

Jason shot upright, scandalized. “Sleeping? You’re sleeping in the same bed? Let go of him!”

Cassandra caught Diana’s eye from across the room, perched easily on Jason’s back like she belonged there, and gave her a small, knowing wave.

Diana smiled in return, warmth spreading through her.

She lingered for a moment longer, watching them—Tae-min, surrounded by those who loved him, no longer that lone, brittle boy in the cold cave—but someone whole, someone safe.

And then she thought, with quiet certainty:

He’s going to be fine.

This time, she would make sure of it.

Notes:

Bruce just lost his son to his friend, he just doesn't know it yet.
Diana was waiting for Tae-min to come to her, she thought that he knew already. She didn't now that for someone so smart, he is jus a silly little guy.

Tae-min: She is glaring at me. Wonder Woman must hates me because she loved Jason.
Diana, looking at him with sadness: The kid hates me, because he thinks I banged his mother.

Janet is a complex character. She loved Tae, for sure, but love isn't enough.
Next one will be the letters.

Chapter 15: Letters never sent

Notes:

So much pain.
A little bit od confort.

From Tim to Bruce

Written in a small, weather-beaten journal, left in the desert years ago.

B,

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I don’t know if you’re even alive.

But I have to believe you are.
Because if you’re not… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.
Ra’s says I’ve become something you’d be proud of.
That I’ve grown into my own legend, that I’ve surpassed what Robin was ever supposed to be.
But I know what he’s really saying — that I’m becoming like him.

And I’m scared, dad. I’m so scared.

There are things I’ve done — things I swore I’d never do — just to survive.
To find you.
I’ve lied. I’ve hurt people. I’ve broken rules I never thought I’d break.
And I keep hearing your voice in my head, disappointed. You would hate what I’m becoming.
Every time I wake in this compound, I think about how it felt to come home to the Manor.
To hear Alfred humming in the kitchen.
To hear Dick laughing.
To know that no matter how bad it got out there, I had a place to land.

But now… there’s no home. Not without you.

I miss you.
Not Batman. Not the symbol.
You.
  The man who let me in when he didn’t have to. 

Somedays I ask myself why I’m still here when everyone else died. 

I keep fighting because that’s what you’d want.
Because if there’s any chance you’re out there, I need to find you.
Because I promised I’d always have your back.

But I’m tired, dad.
And I’m lonely in a way that feels permanent.
And I’m starting to forget what it felt like to not be afraid all the time.

I just… I just want to come home.
Please, come back. 

Please, don't leave me too.

From Bruce to Tim

Typed, unsent. Left in a locked drawer in the cave when Tae-min ran away from Gotham.

Tim,

You are gone. I lost you, didn’t I?

There are things I’ve never said. I told myself that it’s because you already knew, but I suspect that’s a lie I use to make silence easier.

You deserved a better father than me.

There are nights I think about the child you were — always watching, always waiting for someone to notice how much you were hurting. I didn’t get to say how for a time you were the only reason I had to keep living, when Jay was gone and my heart was buried with the son I failed to save. Did I ever tell you that you saved my life? Did I ever say sorry or thank you?

I miss you. Every day. Our little talks, your little quirks, your kindness beyond this world.

I wish you would come home, but at the same time I wish you stay away and safe. Away from someone like me, with my clumsy hands and words, whom the only thing that it seems I can do is hurt the people I love.

And I love you. 

Sorry.

Thank you.

 From Tim to Kon 

Scrawled on the back of an old mission briefing, in bloodied handwriting. Hidden in Ra’s compound.

Kon,

I don’t even know why I’m writing this. You’re gone. Dead. And I’m… I don’t even know what I am anymore.

They’ve taken everything from me. My name. My city. My family. My self. But I keep thinking about you.

About how you’d laugh in the middle of a fight, like the world wasn’t ending around us. About how you always believed I’d figure it out — whatever ‘it’ was.

You should be here. You were always the one who could pull me back when I got too dark. Now there’s no one left. No one calls me out when I lie. No one sees me. 

If you were alive, I know I would never be this alone. You left me with a hole in my soul and it has been festering ever since. 

I don’t know if I’m going to make it out of here. Sometimes I’m not sure if I want to, but I’m trying, I swear. I know you would want me to, you would tell me to stop being so stupid.

I miss you. So much it makes me want to tear the world apart.

If I die here, the good thing is that maybe  I’ll get a chance to see you again.

Your Robin,
Tim

From Kon to Tae-min

Written on the edge of a hospital bed after Ra’s attack, on crumpled paper, never shown, never sent.

Hey, Tae,

You’re asleep right now.  Or unconscious. They keep switching words, like one will make this easier. It doesn’t.

I’m writing this because I can’t say it.  You’d look at me with that soft, tired face and say, “I’m fine.”  Like you always do.
Like that’s supposed to make it true.

You’re such a liar sometimes. Don’t you see that I can see through it?

You’re not fine.
And neither am I.

I kept hearing you scream for me, like you did tonight. You looked so scared. The last time I saw you so scared, I was dying in your arms.  

 I got in time tonight, but I kept thinking about the times that I couldn’t.

Have you called for me when he took you before? Have you waited for me to save you and I wasn’t there?

I can’t tell you this, because I know that if he had taken you again, if that bastard had hurt you again… God, Tae, I’ve never wanted to tear the world apart like I did tonight, when I thought I wouldn’t get there in time. I wanted to kill him so badly, and I know you wouldn’t approve of it. Not because of stupid rules, but because you think that I’m better than this, and I’m not.

Not when came for you, Bart and Cassie. Not when it came to making my family safe.

But especially you. 

I fought through time to get back to you.  When I was stranded in the future, when everything was dust and silence, the only thing that kept me standing was the thought of getting back to you.

And then I did. But you were… broken.
They didn’t just hurt your body, but they took something from your heart too. And I can’t forgive them for it. I hate everyone that has hurt you, even if I know that I was one of them when I left you here alone.

I know you’d say I’m being dramatic.  That you’re okay.  That you can handle it.

And God, I know you can.  You’re the strongest person I know.

But I’m not.

I’m writing this because I know I’ll never give it to you.  I don’t want you to carry this, too.  You already carry enough.

But the truth is, you are the most important person in the world to me.  You always have been. And I can’t lose you.

Not to Ra’s.
Not to Gotham and your family that don’t deserve you.
Not to the darkness that you think you can walk through alone.

If anything ever happened to you… You think I’m strong.  You always tell me that.  But you don’t get it.  You’re the strong one. You tried to clone me when I was gone because you said you couldn’t live without me. Me?  I’d burn the whole world down if I lost you. A world without you is not worthy standing.

It’s not healthy, you would say. We are fucked up in the head.

But for now, I’m just sitting here.
Waiting for you to wake up.
Waiting for you to look at me like you always do—like I’m something better than I am.

Kon

From Janet to Tim

Found folded in a Korean history book in her apartment in France after her death.

My little creature.

I know I was never good at saying this out loud, but I love you. I wasn’t the mother you needed. I know that. I didn’t know how to be. My mind works in ways I still don’t understand, and I know I kept myself distant when I should’ve been close. I’m sorry.

But know this — you were my whole world. I carried you with me in every museum, in every country, in every quiet moment when I thought I couldn’t go on.

I wish I was stronger enough, maybe if I did you could have met your grandfather. He would have adored you. You got your music from him. If I was stronger you would have known that you have my mother’s dimples. Sometimes it hurts when I look at you and see what I lost, but it is not on you.

Sometimes it hurts when I see that you are so much like me. We both are wanderers and sometimes we get lost. I just wish that my mind wouldn’t take me away from you so often. I wish that I knew how to hold you without fear of breaking you. I can’t stop running away.

I wish that I could take you back inside my womb where nothing could hurt you and we would run away together. Away from the manor, from your father, from the city. 

But then you would be stuck with me.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

My Tae-min.

You were always loved.

From your Mom, Ji-won

From Tae-min to Janet

Written late at night, after practice, in the quiet of a Seoul apartment overlooking the Han River. Folded neatly, never sent, but kept tucked inside the notebook where he copied her old poems.

Hi, Mom.

My therapist says I should write letters — to the people I’ve lost, to the ones I miss, to the ones I don’t know how to talk to anymore.

So… here I am.

I found your letters. And I read every word.
I didn’t know if I should — it felt like breaking something delicate, like stepping into a room that should’ve stayed locked.
You wrote about me like I was your whole world.  I didn’t know that.
I didn’t know that when I was a kid, running through Gotham at night, hiding in corners, pretending I didn’t care that you didn’t hold me.
But you did love me.
You just… didn’t know how.

You were never perfect mom, and I wish you had stayed, but I understand now  why you didn’t.

I’m doing okay.
I’m an idol now. I don’t know if you’d laugh or be horrified — maybe both.
It’s not what anyone expected of me, least of all me.
But it’s good.
It’s loud, and exhausting, and sometimes I hate the industry, but I’m not alone.
Not anymore.

Cass is here, like always. She keeps me grounded. She is my favourite person in the whole world. She gave me a home and a name when nobody else would and I know that you would have loved her for it. 

Kon is here too. You never met him, but I wish you had.  He’s like sunlight that doesn’t burn.  He reminds me that I deserve good things, even when I forget. He makes me feel safe. He grounds me in this world, and dramatically as it seems.

My group — they’re my family.  Kwan mothers me more than you ever did — not because you didn’t want to, but because neither of us knew how.  He makes sure I eat, sleep, and rest. He yells at me when I don’t. He tells us he loves us almost everyday. It was such a foreign thing at first, but now I’m believing it.  

Min-jae…
He makes me think of you.
Not only because he takes care of me, but because when I’m with him, it’s quiet. Easy. He understands me better than I do sometimes. The others say he has a translator from my brain, but I just think he has this gift where he can reach anyone. He gets it.
Like how I think it could’ve been, if things had been different between us.
Like when I was little and we would go on our little walks through the city together, not needing to say anything because we understood each other without speaking.

Bruce made me feel that way, too. Once. He made me think of you. 

I lost you, and I think in some ways I lost Bruce too. Min-jae is here, but when he is away I get scared that I’ll lose him too. So I wander, waiting for him to come back. Like I did to you. Like you did.

The other day, I went to your hometown.
Busan.
It was strange, walking streets that once held your feet.
The sea was beautiful. I sat there for hours, listening to the waves and thinking about you — about how you must have stood there too, when you were young and everything was still possible.

I visited your parents’ house. My house now.

Kon and Cass went with me, like they did with your hideout.  I hope that was okay. I don’t hide anything from them.
I didn’t know what to do, so we just listened to grandpa’s records while we cleaned. 

Did you know that he made a piece for you? I bet you did.

 I wish things had been different. I wish you had the opportunity to come back home, to have them meet me. Diana. In a kinder world, you would have been what you want.  I’m sorry, mom.

The last thing I wanted to tell you…

I’m okay now, don’t worry. I think I have found my place. A home. It’s not perfect, but it's mine.
I’m trying. I’m healing.

I hope you’re at peace, wherever you are.
And I hope you know… I love you.

Always your little creature,
Tae-min

 

Notes:

Tae is a momma's boy.
Also Cass and Kon are his people.

Chapter 16: Someone is changing

Summary:

Something bigger was happening.
Something none of them could stop.

Cass noticed it first.
Not only because she was especially observant—but because she’d always known what her brother looked like when something was quietly breaking inside him.

He had his head down over the bowl, soft waves tumbling over his forehead in a mess of bedhead and shampoo-scented sleep. Cass reached out instinctively to brush them from his eyes, like she always did… and paused.

There, hidden among all that inky black, a soft glint of silver-white shimmered like moonlight caught in silk.

Cass didn’t ask. She didn’t have to.

He looked tired in a way that sleep couldn’t fix.

When she hugged him that night before he left for another Eclipse schedule, she held on longer than usual, her chin pressed to his shoulder, silently anchoring him in place.

Later, when Kon noticed, and Constantine knocked on their door, Cass realized—this wasn’t just stress. This wasn’t just the relentless pressure of fame, touring, saving lives.

Something bigger was happening.
Something none of them could stop.

---

Jiho almost didn’t say anything when he first saw it.

He was sitting on the floor, tying his shoes, when he looked up and caught Tae-min wiping sweat from his forehead. The strands clinging to his skin had changed. Not a few hairs—a whole patch, pale and silver like ice under starlight.

It wasn’t dyed.

Jiho knew the difference.

No stylist had done this. No brassy tone. No processed roots. Just… the inevitability of it.

“Tae,” Jiho said slowly, “your hair…”

Tae-min smiled at him, soft and too careful. “Don’t worry about it.”

That’s when Jiho knew to really worry.

---

“You should really let stylists touch your hair. Like… just once,” Kwan teased, lightly tugging at Tae-min’s bangs while he leaned against the vanity mirror.

But when he looked closer, his fingers stilled.

He knew color. He knew bleach. He knew exactly how long it took to go platinum white.

This wasn’t that.

Tae-min didn’t even flinch. “Looks cool, right?”

Kwan didn’t respond, his heart racing. Their eighteen-year-old kid was going grey.

Not for fashion. Not for attention.

Just life.

“Kid…” Seojin, who had looked up from where he was on the phone, started alarmed as he saw the strands of hair between Kwan’s fingers.

“It’s alright,” Tae-min said, and smiled. “I was planning on dyeing it anyway.”

They both knew he wasn’t. Tae-min had always loved that he looked like his mom.

And this wasn’t about hair.

Later, the group gathered quietly, without any big conversation, and started reworking their schedules—adding breaks, planning vacations, cutting down the chaos where they could. Kwan called Min-jae and talked for hours, trying to understand what they could do to help.

He was just glad he would be home soon.

---

Days later, after a young justice mission and debrief, Tae-min asked Kon quietly for help.

“I think… I need to do something about my hair,” he said, running a hand through it, fingers catching on strands that had gone silver, persistently, irrevocably. “Maybe… white. To make it look intentional.”

Kon didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Cassie and Bart jumped in immediately, grinning. “We’re helping.”

So they made a plan.

They gathered at Cassandra’s apartment—safe, familiar, chaotic enough for what they had in mind.

First, they dyed Tae-min’s hair white, the three of them crowded into the tiny bathroom, laughing as they accidentally splattered dye everywhere—Bart vibrating with excitement, Cassie directing them like a general, and Kon standing behind Tae-min with steady hands.

When it was done, Tae-min stared at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through the new color. It was stark, striking—and somehow, it felt right.

Then Bart grinned. “You know what would make this better? Piercings.”

One thing led to another.

They impulsively decided to pierce each other’s ears.

Kon needed to use kryptonite for his. Cassie handled the needle like a pro, rolling her eyes but indulging them anyway. Bart went next, too fast for anyone to stop him, his laughter echoing off the bathroom walls.

Tae-min sat quietly through his, barely flinching.

Then, with that same quiet boldness, he asked Kon, “Could you… slit my eyebrow too?”

Kon blinked, then grinned. “Hell yeah.”

With surgical precision, he did it.

When Tae-min looked in the mirror again, he barely recognized himself… and smiled.

They were still admiring their collective handiwork when Cass walked in with Jason, who’d decided to visit.

Cass stopped in the doorway, raising an eyebrow. Jason froze, staring at the scene: bleached hair, fresh piercings, the faint smell of antiseptic and rebellion thick in the air.

“What the hell—” Jason started.

But Cass just grinned. “Yours too.”

Jason opened his mouth to argue—but when Cass crossed the room and pulled him down into the chair, he didn’t resist.

With Cass guiding them, Tae-min and Kon did the honors, laughing as Jason cursed them affectionately the whole time.

When it was done, Cass stood back, arms crossed, admiring them all.

“Art,” she declared.

---

Later, Tae-min returned to the dorm.

The room went silent the moment he walked in.

The white hair, the new earrings, the slit in his eyebrow—it was all there, stark and unapologetic.

For a full beat, no one moved. No one breathed.

Then Seojin, sitting on the couch with a bowl of instant ramen halfway to his mouth, just whispered, “Holy shit.”

Jiho stared, wide-eyed, then broke out laughing in disbelief. “You look like you just walked out of a fight club.”

Tae-min shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe, as if he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in their carefully curated idol image. “Thought I’d change things up.”

“Change things up?” Kwan repeated, standing to get a closer look. He reached out like he was going to touch Tae-min’s hair, then thought better of it. “Jae’s gonna kill you.”

That broke the tension.

Suddenly, they were all talking over each other—half horrified, half impressed.

Kwan ran a hand through his own hair, muttering, “We have press shoots next week…”

Seojin whistled low. “No way the managers are letting this go.”

But Tae-min just smiled that same quiet, stubborn smile.

A pause. Then Jiho grinned, tilting his head. “Well… looks sick.”

Kwan looked at him, still a bit worried, but then smiled softly. “Yeah. Honestly? Kinda iconic.”

Within minutes, they’d all decided that they were going to dye their hair too.

All of them.

In solidarity.

By the end of the night, the dorm looked like an explosion of color: reds, blue, even neon pink.

Tae-min sat on the couch in the middle of it all, watching them with quiet affection, his fingers brushing against the cool metal of his new earrings, his hair still damp from the dye.

And he thought, with fierce, quiet certainty:

My family is the best.

By the next morning, the photos had leaked online—fan-taken shots from the airport, blurry clips of Eclipse’s latest schedule showing Tae-min with shock-white hair and silver studs catching the light as he walked.

#TaeMinWhiteHair trended globally within an hour.

@kpopupdates: After years without changing his hair, ECLIPSE’s Tae-min debuts a dramatic new look! Fans speculate it’s for a comeback concept—but sources say it wasn’t scheduled?!  #ECLIPSE #TaeMin #WhiteHairKing

@eclipsefanworld: TAEMIN’S NEW HAIR AND PIERCINGS??? ARE WE GETTING A BAD BOY CONCEPT OR DID HE JUST GO FERAL??? 

@knetzforreal: He went full rogue and I LOVE IT

@idolfashion: We need to talk about this: the SLIT EYEBROW, the earrings, and that ice-white hair. Who let him do this??? (Thank you.)

A few days later, during a live interview for their upcoming promotions, the topic inevitably came up.

The interviewer leaned forward, smiling conspiratorially:
“Tae-min… the fans are going wild over your new look. Want to tell us about it?”

The other members immediately started laughing, with Jiho muttering, “Tell them what  happened after.”

Tae-min grinned sheepishly, adjusting his mic. “Uh… yeah. Our manager almost had a heart attack when she saw me.”

The audience burst into laughter.

Seojin added, shaking his head, “That’s not an exaggeration.”

Jiho chimed in, “We thought she was going to faint.”

From backstage, just barely picked up on the broadcast mics, Mrs. Lee could be heard sighing heavily, followed by the unmistakable sound of her rolling her eyes.

Tae-min caught it, smiled fondly, then shrugged for the camera.
“It just… felt right.”

“And the rest of the group? You all look dashing.”

Seojin jumped in, grinning. “We all thought: if he’s going to do it, then we’re all doing it. When Jae-hyuung comes back, we’re gonna jump him.”

The fans screamed.

Tae-min smiled, looking at his reflection on the monitors, while the others talked and joked around. 

“You’re changing, kid.” Constantine had said, sitting on Cass floral sofa in their apartment. “It’s too late to stop. Be careful. I’ve seen signs. Whispers. Something about you makes the veil tremble. You’re going to do miracles soon. For what it’s worth, you’re one of the better ones.”

Miracles. Tae-min thinks. He thinks about the hospital ward he is visiting, the kids that are getting well when nobody thought they could. He thinks about Ives, years before, and the cancer who everyone told was terminal, but Tae-min had made a promise to him, without realizing what he was doing… And the kids in the alley, who should have frozen to death, a blanket from him should not have been enough, as years later he realized.

He was doing miracles already, he just didn’t have a name for it. Dumb lucky, he thought, as he saved Pru in that desert. Even Ra’s was surprised at how they didn’t die. 

He prayed for Jason. Every Night. To his Robin to come back.

“Be ready. You know how to reach me if you need.” Constantine whispered to him, his voice without the usual sarcasm. “Because the gods are watching, love. And not all of them are kind.”

Notes:

Constantine is already attached.
Tae-min, stressed: Did I bring Jason back?? In his coffin???

Chapter 17: She is the father

Summary:

Wonder Woman and an idol unexpected friendship.

@parisredcarpetfeed
Princess Diana of Themyscira just arrived at the gala.

At first, no one thought much of it. Superheroes appeared at public events all the time, and Tae-min was known for showing up everywhere.
So when Wonder Woman was seen at the same Paris gala Tae-min attended, people shrugged it off.

Sure, they talked all night, but she was probably just being nice. Tae-min was the youngest guest there, attending without his group for once.

But then… it happened again.

A week later, a video surfaced: Tae-min at a quiet outdoor café, sunglasses on, hoodie pulled tight. Across from him sat Diana, poised and glowing in full daylight, sipping coffee like royalty. She listened as he spoke, animated and expressive, her smile soft and amused, like a lioness watching her cub.

[Reddit /r/idolconspiracy]
u/glimmerwitch
Title: Why is Wonder Woman hanging out with Tae-min??
Okay first Paris, now this. She’s watching him like he’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen.

[TikTok @idlfan_edits]

Clip: Diana smiling while Tae-min waves his arms, explaining something passionately.
Caption: “She doesn’t just listen. She hears him.”
Top Comment: “That’s not PR. That’s a mom having coffee with her drama child.”

People still tried to dismiss it. Tae-min knowing heroes wasn’t new.
Clips already existed of Superman hovering like a lost puppy around him at the UN Youth Assembly. Gotham’s vigilantes were openly fond of their “little prince.”
Nightwing had been caught doing Eclipse choreographies on rooftops.
Signal had posted a TikTok dance cover.
Even Young Justice’s frequent "kidnappings" of Tae-min had become a fandom inside joke.

But the sightings didn’t stop.

[Twitter @incheonspottings]
[VIDEO] Tae-min at Incheon Airport, hoodie up, bouncing on his heels. Then he sees her. He runs across the crowd. Diana opens her arms and just catches him.
Caption: “Taeminie just ran into her arms like a golden retriever. What is going ON.”
Top comment: “You can’t fake that. That’s a kid greeting his mom at arrivals.”

[Tumblr @UNglamcore]
 UN Youth Reunion Photos: Tae-min seated at Diana’s side, whispering something while she listens, hand resting gently on his shoulder.
Tags: #dianaofficiallyadoptedhim

[Twitter Thread @herochildpsych]
“Anyone notice Tae-min acts younger around Diana?
His posture loosens.
He stims openly.
She meets him where he is. No correcting. No rushing.
He talks more. Laughs more. Whole-body joy.
Conclusion: She doesn’t just make him feel safe. She makes it safe for him to exist.”

[Reddit /r/idolconspiracy]
Title: WHY DOES SHE LOOK AT HIM LIKE HER SON????
u/starlit-idol-lover:
Listen. I compiled every interaction so far—the way she touches his face, adjusts his clothes, walks next to him, listens, SCOLDS him (yes I have video)... This is a MOM.
And they are not hiding it. 

 

Then it broke containment.

On national Korean TV, a senior UN ambassador was asked about the surprising friendship.
They laughed. “It surprised us too. They’ve known each other for a while. He visits her sometimes at the embassy. A very sweet boy. I wouldn’t call it simple friendship. She treats him like her own.”

Cue absolute online hysteria.

Speculation exploded:
Was Diana secretly his biological mother?
Could that explain everything?

Gotham locals posted photos of Janet, confirming Tae-min as her near-identical “ice queen clone.”
But someone still joked:

“You fool. Wonder Woman is clearly the father.”

The problem?
Wonder Woman liked the post.

#WonderWomanIsTheFather
#KpopDemigod
#WWComeGetYourKid

---

[ @bernard_down | Verified ]
Timestamp: 3:14 AM | Gotham Time
Okay. Listen.
I know I’ve posted questionable takes before, but this time? I stand by it: Tae-min is not Jack Drake’s biological son.

I don’t care what the records say. I knew Jack. Met him. With all due disrespect (none), that man couldn’t have raised a houseplant, let alone the cosmic chaos gremlin that is Tae-min.

Here’s my theory:
Janet and a demigoddess made him from enchanted clay. They shaped him with love, ambition, and a sprinkle of “try me, I dare you.”

Wonder Woman looking at him like a proud parent? The signs are all there.
I even found photos of Janet talking with a woman who strongly resembles WW. You tell me that’s not suspicious.

Also: How could a goddess like Janet stand Jack Drake? Clearly a decoy.

I’ve known Tae-min my whole life. I’ve watched him do extraordinary, impossible things.
He saved friends during the earthquake. Lived through chaos after chaos.

Tae-min is a mythologically sculpted being, blessed by three Fates and cursed with divine stubbornness.

I love you, clay boy. Please don’t smite me.

Comments:
@GothamGossip: BERNARD I’M SCREAMING
@IdolGoth: “‘Clay boy’ is trending now, congrats”
@TimmyInHeaven: If anyone was made from goddess clay it’s him. Look at the bone structure.
@Superbae: Superboy still says it’s worth the court battle.
@WWStan_92: Wonder Woman liking the post was the canon confirmation we didn’t know we needed.

#ClayBoyCanon
#JusticeLeagueMaknae
#WWComeGetYourKid

---

The smell of old books and incense lingered in the air, mingling with the faint trace of sea salt that always seemed to cling to Diana. Moonlight cut soft silver lines across the polished embassy floor.

John Constantine stood near her desk, one hand buried in his coat pocket, the other holding an unlit cigarette.

“You’re reckless.”

She looked at him. Calm. Steady. Unmoved. “You sound like Batman.”

“For once, the bastard’s right.” John stepped closer, voice dropping. “You’re broadcasting to every enemy you have that the boy matters to you. ”

She closed the folder with slow, deliberate care. “He already yelled at me about that.”

“Yeah? For once he wasn’t wrong.” John leaned forward. “Explain it to me, Princess. I know you’re not a fool.”

Diana’s gaze sharpened. Patient. Unamused. “Choose your words carefully, Constantine.”

John raised both hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Just… answer me this: Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Her eyes softened, not with doubt, but with something older and deeper. “Yes.”

John’s frown deepened. “Your claim is making him a target.”

“He was already a target.” Her tone was steel. “Now the world knows he’s off limits.”

“Which makes him more of a prize, not less. With all due respect—there are powers out there that don’t care about your boundaries.”

Her fingers tightened briefly on the desk. “Let them try.”

John studied her like she was a riddle he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve. “Bloody hell, Diana.”

She rose, crossed to the window, staring out over the city like she could see farther than human eyes should.

“You know what’s worse than painting a target on him?” she asked softly. “Letting people think he’s unprotected. Especially as things are.”

John shifted, uneasy. “So… he told you?”

“I can feel how the air shifts around him. The way Fate pulls whenever he enters a room.” Her voice stayed soft. “But yes. He told me. About the pull. The changes. About how he probably brought his brother back to life without realizing. About everything he shouldn’t have survived. About everyone around him who shouldn’t have, either.”

John blinked. “He told you that much?”

She nodded. “And more.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “Do you know how long it took me to drag even half of that out of him?”

“I’m not you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” But there was no heat in it.

John paced, restless. “I’ve warded his apartment more times than I’ve slept this month.”

“Thank you for that.”

He waved her off. “Someone has to. The kid’s a bloody beacon. The dead tune into him like he’s their favorite radio station. But wards won’t hold forever.”

“That’s why I’m here,” she said. “I’ve called in favors. Old ones.”

“Who?”

“People who understand beings like him.”

John went still. “You think he’s a being now?”

“You already know the answer.”

John exhaled slowly. “And when someone decides he’s too dangerous to let live? Before he’s fully formed? Before some prophecy kicks in?” John’s voice sharpened.

“Then they’ll answer to me. To you. His father, even if he is a fool. To the Justice League and all the friends that loves him. He is not alone.”

He stared at her, then gave a humorless chuckle. “You’re going to start a war over this kid at this point.”

“If that’s what it takes. And don’t act like you’re not involved. He is worth it for you too.”

"He bloody hell is."

He lit his cigarette at last, dragging deep and exhaling like the situation itself weighed down his lungs.

“Alright then, Princess. If we’re doing this, I’ll double the wards. On his place and yours. ”

A faint smile ghosted across her mouth. “Good.”

John rolled his eyes heavenward like begging for patience. As he reached the door, he paused.

“You realize you’ve basically adopted him in front of the entire world, right?”

“I’m aware. His father is not happy,”

“Good.” He smirked, dry and tired. “At least someone’s got his back.”

And with that, he disappeared down the embassy hallway, leaving behind only the fading trace of cigarette smoke.

Notes:

Min-jae, coming back from the military: What the hell is going on?

Chapter 18: Welcome home, Hyung

Notes:

Papa is home.
I mean, Min-jae comes back.

The air outside the base smelled like dust, exhaust, and early summer.

Kwan stood just beyond the gates, shifting on his feet, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. He’d gotten up before sunrise, driven too fast, barely eaten. His heart had been somewhere between his throat and stomach the entire morning.

Then Min-jae appeared.

Taller. Leaner. Hair buzzed close to his scalp. Shoulders squared from months of discipline and routine.

Kwan’s breath caught somewhere between overwhelming relief and something warmer—something he hadn’t let himself name out loud.

The second their eyes met, Kwan grinned—too wide, too helpless to stop it—and waved both arms like an idiot.

“Jae!”

Min-jae dropped his duffle bag on the pavement like it weighed nothing and crossed the distance in three long strides.

Kwan didn’t wait. He threw himself forward, wrapping his arms tight around Min-jae’s middle, burying his face against his shoulder before he could think better of it.

“You’re late,” Kwan mumbled, squeezing him hard enough to bruise.

Min-jae let out a soft, startled laugh and hugged him back just as fiercely. “Didn’t miss me that much, did you?”

“Shut up,” Kwan said without moving. “You have no idea.”

They stood there for a long moment, neither letting go.

Finally, Min-jae pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes softer than they had any right to be.

“Missed you too,” he said, voice low.

Kwan cleared his throat, already too warm under the collar. “Yeah, well. Come on. Your  will brothers kill me if I don’t bring you home soon.”

Min-jae smiled, quiet and fond, and let Kwan take his bag.

---

The drive back was familiar: the same long roads, the same playlists Kwan had kept on loop for months just to feel close to him.

Kwan filled the space with updates, both the ridiculous and the mundane.

“Han dyed his hair pink for exactly three weeks before he cried in the bathroom and made me fix it. Your grandma still cries every time I mention your name. Your grandpa swears he didn’t miss you but keeps setting an extra plate at the table anyway.”

Min-jae smiled at each story, eyes soft with something that looked a lot like gratitude.

“And you?” he asked eventually. “How’ve you been?”

“Keeping everyone alive,” he said with a shrug like it wasn’t a big deal. “Visiting your family like I promised. The boys went with me a lot. Your grandparents love Jiho now, by the way.”

Min-jae’s gaze lingered on him, warm and knowing. “Thank you.”

Kwan’s ears went hot. “Don’t get sappy on me yet. Still gotta get you through the next part.”

“…Which is?”

Kwan sighed dramatically, like he’d been waiting for this moment. “Okay. So… the Tae-min situation.”

Min-jae blinked. “What kind of situation?”

“International. Full-on conspiracy board level.”

“…You’re joking.”

“I wish.” Kwan scratched the back of his neck. “There’s this running theory now that he is Wonder Woman's kid.”

Min-jae stared. “…What?”

“I’m serious! There’s a whole thing online. People made edits. There are compilation videos. UN officials have commented. She shows up at his events. They’re always together. People started calling him ‘Clay Boy.’ She even liked a meme calling herself his dad.”

Min-jae’s jaw dropped. “I leave for two years and Tae-min… collects an Amazon?”

“Yup.”

Min-jae laughed, loud and disbelieving. “Of course he did. There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Oh yeah. He started going gray. Like actual silver strands overnight. No one knows why. Freaked us all out.”

Min-jae blinked.

“Then he bleached the whole thing. Went full snow white. Slit his eyebrow. Got a piercing. Almost gave Mrs. Lee a heart attack. She screamed so loud Jiho thought something exploded.”

Min-jae clutched his stomach laughing. “No way—”

“Yes way. And because we’re idiots with no impulse control, me, Jiho, and Seojin all dyed our hair too. Solidarity.”

“What colors?”

“Jiho went pink. Seojin went copper-blond. I…” Kwan ran a hand through his own hair, still faintly blue-black at the roots. “I went dark blue for a while. Faded now.”

Min-jae grinned, slow and lazy. “Bet you looked hot.”

Kwan’s heart stuttered. “Well. I did, actually.”

Min-jae leaned closer, voice dropping. “What color should I do when mine grows out?”

Kwan risked a glance, caught the teasing curve of Min-jae’s mouth. “Red,” he said, a little too honest. “Definitely red.”

“Then you’re helping me do it.”

“Deal.”

---

The reunion with Min-jae’s family was as chaotic as expected.

Grandma cried. Grandpa pretended not to but wiped at his eyes when no one was looking. His brothers tackled him like linebackers.

Kwan hovered nearby, answering questions like he hadn’t already given them the same updates five times that week. Through it all, Min-jae kept looking at him with a soft smile.

By the time they pulled into the dorm's parking garage, Min-jae’s stomach twisted in anticipation.

“They’re on the rooftop,” Kwan said, killing the engine. “Waiting.”

Min-jae wiped his palms on his jeans. “Let’s go.”

---

The rooftop door creaked as Min-jae pushed it open.

Jiho was the first to spot him, turning so fast he nearly dropped the iced coffee in his hands.

“Hyung—”

Before Min-jae could blink, Jiho sprinted across the space and collided with him in a hug tight enough to knock the breath from his lungs.

Seojin wasn’t far behind, less dramatic but no less fierce, wrapping both arms around them and burying his face briefly against Min-jae’s shoulder.

“Finally,” Seojin mumbled. “Finally back. Your hair looks ridiculous.”

“Missed you guys too,” Min-jae managed, squeezing them both.

And then… there was Tae-min.

Hanging back near the railing, hands fidgeting at his sleeves, eyes too wide and bright.

Min-jae opened his arms wordlessly.

Tae-min didn’t move at first, just stood there, hands clenching, shoulders tight like he wasn’t sure if it was allowed.

Min-jae tilted his head. “Come here, kid.”

That broke whatever thread was holding Tae-min still.

He crossed the distance in seconds, nearly slamming into Min-jae’s chest, arms winding around him so fast and tight it startled even Jiho and Seojin.

Tae-min didn’t let go. Not for long minutes.

His face stayed hidden against Min-jae’s shoulder, and when Min-jae felt the damp patch there, he didn’t say a word about it.

Instead, he just held him tighter.

“You got taller, hyung,” he said finally, voice small but trying for normal. “That’s unfair.”

“You’re still five apples tall.”

“I’m not.” His voice cracked mid-denial.

“I see.” Min-jae agreed easily, holding him tighter.

Behind them, Jiho sniffled too, and Seojin mumbled something like, “This kid,” before dragging everyone into one enormous group hug.

Kwan stood at the edge for a second longer, just watching.

And then Min-jae’s hand reached out, grabbing Kwan’s hoodie sleeve and pulling him in too.

“Not leaving you out,” Min-jae said, voice low and full of something warm and private just for him.

Kwan smiled.

“Wouldn’t dare.”

And there, with everyone pressed close under the afternoon sun, Min-jae finally felt like he was home again.

---

Kwan was already half-asleep when Min-jae opened his door and climbed into bed behind him. The room was quiet except for the hum of the city outside and the faint rustle of sheets. Min-jae settled close, pressing in like he’d done a hundred times before, like they hadn’t spent nearly two years apart.

For a while, he just lay there, breathing him in.

Kwan smelled like aftershave and something warm that made Min-jae’s chest ache.

Without thinking too hard about it, Min-jae leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to Kwan’s bare shoulder.

Kwan made a soft, sleepy noise at the touch, shifting but not pulling away. “What’s that for?”

Min-jae buried his face in his hair. “Missed sleeping next to you,” he murmured. “Missed this… missed you.”

Kwan’s breath hitched, but before either of them could say more—or let it spiral into dangerous territory—there was a knock at the door.

Min-jae blinked, pulling back just enough to glance toward the clock. Almost 2 AM. He instinctively knew who it was.

“…Tae?” he called softly.

The door creaked open, and there he was.

Tae-min stood there in pajama pants and a hoodie two sizes too big, hair a chaotic white halo around his head, eyes glassy and half-lost like he hadn’t fully woken up… or like he hadn’t really slept at all.

“Tae?” Kwan sat up quickly, instantly more awake. “You okay?”

Tae-min’s gaze flicked toward the bed, toward both of them there, and his expression twisted, somewhere between relief and guilt and he looked at Min-jae.

“I… I thought you left again.” His voice cracked on the word again . “I woke up and your room was empty and the bed was cold and I thought… I thought you were gone.”

Min-jae was already out of bed, crossing the room in three long steps to crouch in front of him. “Hey, hey, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Look at me.”

Tae-min did, but his pupils looked too wide, too unfocused. His breathing was too shallow.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Kwan asked softly from the bed, swinging his legs over the edge.

Tae-min swallowed hard, twisting the sleeves of his hoodie in his fists. “Sometimes… they would leave at night. They never told me. I’d wake up and… mom’d just… be gone. Sorry.”

Min-jae’s heart cracked a little at that.

“You don’t have to be sorry for worrying,” Min-jae said gently, reaching to rub his shoulder.

But something in Tae-min’s stare stayed off. His gaze drifted around, unfocused.

“They’re being too loud tonight,” Tae-min mumbled, rubbing his forehead. “I can’t sleep.”

Min-jae’s brow furrowed. “Who’s too loud?”

Tae-min blinked like the question confused him. Then he shrugged, as if realizing too late that he’d said it out loud.

Before Min-jae could push further, there was another knock, this time quicker and more urgent.

Jiho poked his head in, hair sticking up wildly. “He wasn’t in bed,” Jiho said breathlessly, eyes going straight to Tae-min. “I woke up and he was gone. Scared the crap out of me.”

Seojin appeared behind him, wearing sweatpants and clear annoyance written all over his sleepy face. “It’s two in the morning. Can we collect the children and get back to sleeping now?”

Min-jae gave them all a long look, then sighed with soft affection.

“Alright,” he said, standing up and ruffling Tae-min’s hair on the way. “Do you all wanna sleep here with us?”

There was a pause.

Then three voices answered at once:

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

“Move over.”

Kwan laughed under his breath and shifted to make room as everyone piled in. Tae-min wedged himself between Min-jae and him, curling in tight like he could absorb warmth just from being near.

Min-jae pulled the blanket over them all, keeping a steady hand on Tae-min’s back until his breathing finally evened out.

Kwan reached over and tangled their fingers together beneath the covers, squeezing once—just enough to say I’m here too .

He looked at his beautiful face for a while, even when Kwan closed his eyes. 

Sleep finally came, thick and heavy and real.

---

Mrs. Lee opened the door with every intention of yelling at them for missing breakfast…

And instead found five boys tangled in a heap like overgrown puppies.

She blinked. Smiled. Took a picture.

By noon, the post was already viral.

Caption:
“Welcome home, Min-jae ❤️ #Family #MySons #FullHouseAgain”

Top Comments:

 @SeoulIdolUpdates: “Min-jae’s back AND it’s a sleepover reunion?? Crying in the club rn.”

 @WonderWomansKidWatch: “TAE-MIN IS IN THE MIDDLE. HOLDING ONTO MIN-JAE LIKE A LIFE RAFT. I’M EMOTIONAL.”

 @ClayBoyTruthers: “Proof that they sleep like a litter of kittens.”

And just like that, the internet welcomed Min-jae home too. 

Notes:

Tae-min, let your parents kiss in peace, please.
Poor child is hearing prayers at night. His powers will only grown and cause some...problems.
Also, KwanJae? MinWan? MinKwan? I don't know. They're in love, they're a married couple with three problem children.

Chapter 19: A little god

Summary:

A little god and his haunt.
Or Tae-min is not a happy champ right know.

Notes:

Tae-min is hearing prayers, and somehow it is not the worst of his problems right now.
Also, Jason and Constatine are here.

Somewhere between 2 AM and bad decision o’clock , Tae-min found himself sneaking out of the dorm again.

He should have been sleeping. God knew he needed it after weeks of comeback rehearsals, late-night recording sessions, and trying to split himself in half between idol life and Young Justice missions. Even Jiho had threatened to duct-tape him to the mattress if he didn’t rest properly.

Except… Tae-min didn’t feel tired. At al. Instead, here he was—hoodie up, sneakers silent on the pavement, slipping down the fire escape like a stray cat.

It wasn’t like he was trying to run away. Not really.

He just… needed space. Air. Distance.
And maybe a reality check.

Because apparently, watching your hyungs sleep like a haunted Victorian child for the third night in a row wasn’t considered normal behavior.

Especially when you caught yourself standing over Min-jae’s bed at 1:40 AM, just… staring.
Heart in your throat. Chest tight like he might disappear if you blinked too long.

He’d already checked on Jiho and Kwan too—twice. Seojin… well… Seojin had woken up the last time, clocked him hovering like a ghost, and lobbed a pillow directly at his head.

“Stop looming like a cursed spirit, Taeminie,” he’d grumbled, voice slurred with sleep. “Go lie down or I’m putting salt lines around your bed.”

Tae-min hadn’t even denied it. Just ducked his head and left.

And now, climbing out into the cool Seoul night, he made a straight, guilty line for Cass’s apartment like a kid sneaking back to his mom after doing something dumb.

The thing was…
Tae-min knew this wasn’t just stress.
Or exhaustion.
Or post-hiatus emotional weirdness.

He’d been around enough entities, demigods, and borderline mythic disasters to recognize when something inside him wasn’t right .

There was the strange, sharp pull in his chest whenever someone raised their voice at one of his friends.

The way he’d almost… bared his teeth at their dance instructor earlier that week when the guy had snapped too harshly at Jiho during practice. The instructor had flinched—actually flinched—like Tae-min was something dangerous.

Like he wasn’t just the youngest idol in the room anymore but something else.

It wasn’t the only time.

When one of the backup dancers had jokingly shoved Kwan during vocal warmups, Tae-min had felt it again, an instinctive, cold, territorial flash of… something. Something ancient and wrong. Something that made the lights overhead flicker for a solid ten seconds before he shoved it down hard enough to give himself a migraine.

The studio staff blamed faulty wiring.

(He knew his hyungs were backing him up, as always. Trying to explain things that they couldn’t. They would try to protect him, even when he was scaring them. Tae-min was baffled sometimes with this loyalty. ).

The Eclipse fans online noticed too. On TikTok, fancams kept circulating of Tae-min during rehearsals. How the shadows seemed to cling to him a little too long. People were speculating about the “filters” the company was using to make him glow on camera.

There were no filters.

And his stage presence…  Even Hyunwoo—sweet, easygoing Hyunwoo —had stopped by practice one afternoon, took one look at him, and stammered for the first time since he knew him:
“You’re… um… wow. You’re getting even prettier. Like. Unfairly so. It’s… otherworldly.”  He said it like a joke, but his gaze lingered too long. Uneasy.

God.
Comeback day was going to be a mess if this kept up.

And then… there was the Young Justice mission.

That had been worse.

They were tracking a small-time metahuman smuggler.
Low risk. Nothing fancy.
Until the guy took a swing at Cass mid-fight.

Tae-min didn’t remember moving.

One second he was ten feet away.  The next… the guy was on the ground, screaming.  Clawing at his own eyes.  Gibbering about shadows with teeth.
Begging for someone to make it stop.

Kon had to physically drag Tae-min off him. Had to hold him back, voice low and soothing in his ear.
Tae, it’s done, it’s done, you’re okay, I’ve got you…

Tae-min hadn’t realized he was crying until his face was pressed against Kon’s neck, fists clenched tight in his hoodie like he could physically crawl inside him to hide.

And yet… even through the horror…
Even through the guilt…
There was a strange, dark satisfaction buried somewhere deep in his chest.

He had protected them.
His haunt.
His people.
His believers.

And he hated that part of himself for liking it.

He needed to fix this. Before it got worse. Before it escalated.

---

Cass opened the apartment door before he even knocked.

Tae-min shuffled inside like a guilty stray cat. “Hi, noona…”

Cass didn’t say anything at first. Just stepped aside to let him in, gave him one long, assessing look, and shoved a mug of chamomile tea into his hands.
He curled up on her old couch, knees to chest, staring at the wall like it might offer solutions.

“I’m scaring people,” he said finally, voice small.

Cass didn’t deny it.
Didn’t sugarcoat it.
Just sighed and ruffled his hair with that same exasperated affection she always had for him.

“Scaring yourself more.”

Tae-min buried his face in the mug, breathing in steam and chamomile and guilt.

---

A little later, restless and still wired, he climbed up to the rooftop.
Seoul’s night air hit him cool and sharp, threaded with the low electric hum of traffic and neon.
Not exactly private. But still… it felt better than being trapped inside.

He sat cross-legged on the ledge, hoodie pulled tight, eyes unfocused as he stared at the lights sprawled out below.

He could… feel the city. Not like Gotham, never like Gotham, but something like it. A pulse, more distant. Less blinding. 

Somewhere below there, a child cried to sleep waiting for her kitten to go back home but he had been run over hours ago. A mother was waiting for her son.  A doctor started a surgery, the patiente wouldn’t make it. 

The prayers were getting louder again.

Soft, scattered words from all over the city, from places he couldn’t pinpoint.
Desperate. Hopeful.
Some in languages he didn’t even speak but somehow still understood.

Tae-min pressed his palms against his ears. Just for a second.
It didn’t help.
It never did.

“You’re terrible at sneaking out, you know that?”

Tae-min jumped, nearly pitching sideways off the ledge.

Jason stood a few feet away, climbing up from the neighboring balcony like a professional cat burglar.
Which… well… fair. He kinda was.

“What the hell?” Tae-min’s heart thumped hard, but the initial panic melted into something warmer almost immediately.

Jason grinned, lazy and smug. “Got back from Qurac an hour ago. Thought I’d check on my favorite tiny terror. Good thing I did. Followed you all the way from your dorm and you didn’t notice.”
He dropped down beside him with a soft huff, shoulder knocking into Tae-min’s.

“I was… a bit preoccupied,” Tae-min muttered.

“I can tell.”

For a while, they just sat there.
Shoulder to shoulder.

The city spread out below, her call like static. Someone cried, he fought the instinct to go there. Some nights he would wake up in the city in his pajamas, on a rooftop like a madman, being called there. He was lucky social media had not pinpointed it yet.

“Talk to me, kid,” Jason said finally, his voice quieter now. More real. “Cass messaged me like five times. Told me to check on you. Which… coming from her? That's a Defcon-level concern.”

Tae-min swallowed. Looked down at his hands. Thought for only a second.

And then he told him everything.

No filters. No jokes.

Jason stayed silent through most of it. Listening carefully.

After a long pause:

“So… she’s not your bio mom.”

Tae-min sighed through his nose. “No, Jason.”

“But she definitely banged your mom.”

“Please don’t say it like that.”

Jason laughed. Entirely unrepentant. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just trying to get the lore straight here.”

“It’s not lore. It’s my life.”

“Which is somehow crazier than mine. Impressive, honestly.” Jason rubbed at his neck. “And you’re sure you’re not made of clay?”

“Positive.”

“Uh-huh.” Jason eyed him. “But you’re… kinda… an entity now?”

“Kinda.”

Jason let out a low whistle, staring out over the city. “Explains the weird vibe around. The whole…death thing. I mean, I’ve been dead. I’m sensitive to this stuff.”

“I didn’t think about that. But… yeah. Constantine mentioned it could mess with people like you more.” Tae-min gave him a sideways glance. “You’ve got your own ghost thing going on. Haunted grounds, obsessions and strange rules.”

“I should be mad at that, but… fair.” Jason blinked, then squinted. “Wait. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“There’s… a possibility,” Tae-min said, voice going small. “That maybe I… kinda… had something to do with you coming back.”

Jason froze.

“…Holy shit.”

Tae-min winced.

“I mean… there’s no proof,” he said quickly. “It’s just… I begged. I did a lot of strange things back then without realizing… Gotham… was loud.”

Jason stared at him with a complicated expression. Then:

“…I prayed for you. You know that? When I was a street kid. Even when I was at the Manor. I didn’t know it was you then. I prayed to the ghost of the alley. The one who helped me to not freeze to death.”

“I know.”

Jason blinked again. “What?”

“I heard you.” Tae-min’s voice stayed quiet, almost shy. “I didn’t know it was you back then. But… I heard.”

Jason dragged a hand down his face like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or scream.

“You heard prayers even back then… and you thought that was normal?”

“No…” Tae-min muttered, ducking his head. “I figured… Gotham water contamination? Reddit had posts about it. Said hallucinations and mood shifts were a thing.”

Jason gaped. “You—drank Gotham tap water??”

“In my defense…there was no one around to say not to.”

Jason looked like he was about to combust. “How can someone so intelligent be so incredibly dumb?! How could I have thought that you were a better Robin??”

Tae-min just shrugged. “Well… Wonder Woman likes me more than you. So… have this.”

Jason stared at him for a beat… then burst out laughing, running both hands over his face in disbelief.

“Listen here, you little shit—”

Tae-min was already scrambling toward the fire escape, laughing breathlessly as Jason leapt up to chase him.

Somewhere above the city, high, high above, the prayers faded just a little.
For now.

---

Later that week, Tae-min found himself seated cross-legged on the floor of a tiny, smoke-filled apartment in London. Constantine sat across from him, sleeves rolled up, cigarette already half burned to the filter, chalk marks scattered in messy concentric rings around them both.

The warding wasn’t finished yet.

Tae-min had texted him at 3 AM Seoul time, panicked and shaking after waking up from another dream that felt less like a dream and more like… thousands of voices tugging at him from all over the world.
The next thing he knew, Zatanna had opened a portal and shoved him directly onto Constantine’s couch with the warning:
“Sort your kid out.”

Now here they were.

“So,” Constantine said, exhaling smoke toward the cracked ceiling. “You’re hearing prayers.”

“Yeah.”

“From how far?”

“…Everywhere, I think.” Tae-min’s voice stayed low. “I woke up yesterday understanding a language I don’t even speak. Someone was begging me for something… and I knew exactly what they wanted. Their name, their grief… all of it.”

“Bloody hell, love.”

Tae-min gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah.”

Constantine stubbed the cigarette out with more force than necessary. “And you’ve been… responding?”

“Not on purpose,” Tae-min said quickly. “Not… consciously. But when someone near me is upset or scared, it feels like something inside me… answers. Acts first. Me second.” He tugged at his hoodie sleeves like he could pull himself back into something smaller, something manageable. “I’m sleeping-walking.”

“Christ.” Constantine ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not a baby entity. Not some fledgling god. You’re already fully formed. That kind of bleed… that level of reach… You shouldn’t be this strong this soon. How the hell did that happen?”

Tae-min hesitated. “I think…I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. Without knowing.”

Constantine froze.

Tae-min picked at the frayed edge of his sleeve, not looking up. “The… voices. The instincts. Wanting to comfort people. Make them feel safe. I used to walk around at night in Gotham. Trying to… I don’t know. Help people who were scared. I used to sit near alleyways and just… listen. Whisper to them without them seeing me. I thought I was just being weird. Or lonely.”

Constantine cursed low under his breath, getting up to grab another drink from the corner. “No wonder it’s snowballing now.”

“I don’t understand,” Tae-min said, finally meeting his eyes. “Why now? Why all at once?”

“Because you grew up,” Constantine said, pointing at him with the bottle before taking a long swallow. “Because Gotham’s spiritual ecology is like giving a lit match to a fireworks factory. You’re what happens when a sensitive kid spends years steeped in ambient trauma, urban legend, death energy, and concentrated belief. Add in your little hero complex and the fact that people were already praying to something they didn’t have a name for? Voilà.”

“…I was the thing they prayed to.”

“More like… you became it while trying to fill the gap. Power follows belief. Gotham’s full of kids who’ve whispered into the dark hoping for something, someone, to answer. You answered. Even back then.”

Tae-min wrapped his arms tighter around his knees. “…It’s changing me physically.”

Constantine gave him a long look. “I know.”

“My face is changing. People keep… staring. Saying I’m prettier. Brighter. But also… scarier. Like I’m not just… me anymore.”

“You’re not,” Constantine said bluntly. “Not entirely.”

Tae-min swallowed.

Constantine set the bottle down and pulled out another stick of chalk, drawing slow, methodical runes near Tae-min’s hands. “And it’ll get worse. As your divine side grows… it’s going to keep pulling away from your human instincts. More intrusive thoughts. More physical changes. Mood swings. Identity bleed. Gods aren’t meant to stay static. Especially ones like you, 4born from collective emotion and urban belief.”

“…So what happens next?”

“Your body will shift to match how people conceptualize you,” Constantine said, voice quieter now. “You’ve got believers in different cultures already. Planets even. Fans, kids, people on the street praying for help and comfort and strength and revenge, and every single one of them has their own mental picture of you.”

Tae-min blinked. “So… I’ll change. Depending on… them?”

“Sometimes physically. Sometimes emotionally. One day you’ll look in the mirror and your bone structure might be different. Your voice could shift. Even your mannerisms.” Constantine shrugged like it was just another Tuesday. “One day you’ll look like a gentle guardian spirit. The next? A wrathful punisher. It’ll depend on what people need you to be… and what they believe you are.”

Tae-min stared at his hands like he wasn’t sure they belonged to him anymore. He drew in a shaky breath. “And if I lose control?”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get there,” Constantine said lightly, like it wasn’t terrifying. Then he softened. “But I’m warding you. Locking your divine bleed as much as I can. You’re still mostly human. Still mostly you. But kid…” He nudged Tae-min’s knee with the back of his hand. “You need to remember this: You can’t save everyone. You can’t answer every prayer. Not without losing yourself.”

Tae-min nodded slowly, more to himself than anyone else.

“Okay,” he said, voice rough but steady. “I trust you.”

“Atta boy,” Constantine said, lighting another cigarette with tired affection. “Now sit still. And for the love of God, don’t flinch. These runes sting.”

“I won’t.” Tae-min closed his eyes. “Why me?”

“Maybe it was already inside you,” Constantine ran a thumb over the finished chalkwork, sealing the final rune with a low hum of energy. “Gotham just lit the fuse.”

The air in the room changed. Heavy. Charged. The wards settled into place like iron gates clanging shut.

The magic hit Tae-min hard and fast. The breath rushed out of him like someone had punched him in the chest. His whole body sagged forward, nerves burning like static under his skin. After weeks, his mind was finally silent. For now.

Constantine caught him before he fully collapsed, one arm sliding instinctively under his shoulders, steadying him. Tae-min curled in without resistance, breath shallow and ragged against the crook of Constantine’s neck.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

Then, voice barely a whisper, Tae-min asked:

“…John?”

“Yeah, kid?” Constantine murmured, low and tired.

“If I ever lose control… if I become something worse than this… I want you to stop me.”
A pause.
“Whatever it takes. I trust you to do it. Just you. Please, don’t let me become a monster.”

Constantine froze.

The weight of the promise settled like a curse between them.

After a long breath, rough and reluctant, he nodded once.

“Yeah,” he said, voice thick. “If it comes to that… I’ll stop you.”

Tae-min gave a tiny, shaky smile. Then, too drained to hold himself upright, he went fully limp, deadweight in Constantine’s arms, already asleep before his head hit the pillow Constantine shoved under him.

Now…
Long after Tae-min’s breathing evened out, Constantine sat at the edge of the couch, staring down at the kid curled in too small, too soft, human. Not human enough.

His heart twisted in ways he hated.

He thought of the first time he’d met him. Gotham  mist, hoodie swallowed by his tiny frame, and eyes— God, those eyes .
Too wide for his face. Too haunted for a child. No wonder people thought he was a ghost.
Tiny fingers wrapping around Constantine’s own like they belonged there. Warm. Human.

And now this.

Now… this.

Constantine let out a long, bitter breath. Ran a hand over his tired face.

To ask him this? Manipulative little shit.

“What a cruel little god,” he thought.
Then, quieter, like it tasted like ash:
“And what a stupid old bastard I am… for getting attached.”

Notes:

My heart ache for Jonh, who adopted a son without realizing it and is in denial.
And now his son asks him to kill him if needed.
Tae-min, your moron.
Justice League Dark had a field day with them.
Anyway, Eclipse group is
in denial with their scary macknae. Like they're in denial with his vigilante life. They know something is off, they just feel that is safer if they don't know details. Will it change? Maybe.
But it is funny when people point at them about their kid being a terror and they just smile and say 'What? Our Taeminie? No.'
Are you curious about where Bruce is in all this? Who wants more Constantine and Tae-min background? Social media reaction of their comeback? His group perspective of their macknae being scary and possessive? Young justice being the only ones who doesn't give a fuck about Tae-min being a dangerous little god? Because honestly, for them he already was.

Chapter 20: Halo

Notes:

“In your shadow, we shine—We are your Halo.”
Or how the fandom name for Eclipse was chosen.
And how Jon Kent is involved.

It happened in the first month of their debut.

The online voting poll from Eclipse Entertainment had been running for a week.
Dozens of suggested fandom names from fans had been shortlisted by the company’s PR team. There were cute ones, poetic ones… and then there was “Halo.”

Jiho had been the first to notice it.

“‘Halo,’ huh?” he read off the list on his phone, sweaty and out of breath after another round of choreography practice. “I like that. Kinda fits with Eclipse.”

Tae-min, sitting on the floor tying his shoelaces, tilted his head. “Because of the light?”

“Because it means no matter how dark we get,” Kwan said, throwing himself dramatically onto a bean bag, “they’ll still shine for us.”

Min-jae, sitting against the wall with a towel over his head, peeked out and gave a rare, tired smile. “That’s… kind of beautiful.”

Seojin shrugged. “Better than being called… ‘sunny.’”

They all laughed at that.

And when the company asked for their input, they all picked Halo. No hesitation.

---

Later that month they announced the fandom name—

An eclipse is a rare, powerful event—where light and shadow meet, and the world holds its breath.
And even when the sun hides behind the moon, something remains visible:
A glowing, unwavering ring of light.
The Halo.
You—our fans—have always been that light for us.
The constant glow behind our moments of doubt.
The warmth that remains even when things feel dark.
The energy that reminds us that we’re never truly alone.
Just like a halo during an eclipse, you surround us. Protect us. Make us shine.

—and #WeAreYourHalo trended worldwide within minutes.

---

Over the years, it became more than a name.

The Halos weren’t just a fandom. They were a community.
A refuge.
A family built on comfort and quiet loyalty.

No toxic fan wars. No invasive behavior.
They protected their idols like bodyguards in oversized hoodies.
They blurred faces in photos. They discouraged sasaeng behavior. They organized charity projects in Eclipse’s name.
They showed up with light sticks, banners, and unwavering hearts.

When Min-jae and Kwan were seen walking together late at night by the Han River, nobody took pictures.
When Jiho cried during a concert, they cheered louder.

When rumours of Seojin dating another artist were circulating, they said they were happy for him.
When Tae-min started acting spooky… they made excuses for him online, flooding comment sections with playful defenses like:
"That’s just our Moon behaving like the mystery he is."
"Let the boy vibe, he’s probably just sleep-deprived again 😂 #ProtectTaeMin"

---

@boyfromkansas : “It’s been years but it still feels like the first time they said it. Our name is perfect… We are the light in the darkness. #WeAreYourHalo”

Jiho stretched out on the dorm floor, scrolling through his phone. “Do you guys remember who suggested it?” he asked suddenly, tossing a rice cracker into his mouth. “The name Halo.”

They all paused.

Kwan grinned, poking Min-jae’s side. “That one fan, right? The mysterious one. The legend.”

“Right,” Min-jae nodded, voice soft with the weight of the memory. “The one who… what’s the username again?”

Tae-min, curled up against the window with his chin on his knees, answered without missing a beat, eyes distant:  “GothamAegis.”

Jiho barked a laugh. “Yeah! That guy. The one who—remember when that journalist made fun of me for crying during our first win? Next morning the dude’s entire social media history was trending and his number leaked.”

Seojin, now leaning over the back of the couch, added, “Or when those antis tried to start rumors about Kwan? All their fake accounts were deactivated within hours.”

Tae-min smiled into his knees. “And when someone tried to mock me for gaining weight, GothamAegis bought out five rows of front seats just to hold up banners that said ‘YOU’RE PERFECT.’”

Min-jae chuckled. “They even sent snacks to the staff that day.”

“Legend,” Jiho said with a solemn nod.

Kwan added, teasing, “Our guardian angel.”

Tae-min hummed softly. “Aegis, the shield .”

---

 

@EclipseUpdates:
"Who is GothamAegis? How is thay so fast?? How are they  so rich??? Are they real??"

@SoftHalo99:
"If GothamAegis tells me to jump, I’ll ask from which floor."

@AegisDefenseSquad:
"Another antis account just got nuked and it wasn’t even 6AM KST. GothamAegis works harder than Eclipse's PR team."

@MoonchildForLife:
"Tae-min looked like he was smiling when someone held up a GothamAegis banner today 🥺"

@ConspiracyHalo:
"Theory thread : GothamAegis isn’t a person. They’re a collective ghost haunting the internet. No human is that fast at doxxing."

---

It started like most disasters in Jon Kent’s life.

With curiosity. 

It was late—well past midnight in Gotham time. Jon had stayed over at the Manor after a joint patrol with Damian, and now he was curled up on the floor of the Batcave, scrolling through Eclipse fan forums on his phone while eating leftover snacks from Alfred.

He was midway through reading yet another thread titled:

“GothamAegis: Protector, Hacker, God Among Halos (Mega Compilation Thread - 54 parts)”

When he noticed something weird.

Jon blinked at the latest post:

"Guys. Small detail but... GothamAegis always seems to post at odd times... like.... Even when Eclipse is promoting overseas. "

Jon grinned. Classic fan theory nonsense.

But then...

He glanced at the timestamps.

And at the same time... his eyes drifted toward the Batcomputer.

Where Bruce’s second monitor… was still open to Twitter.

He has  good vision, okay? It was not his fault, if someone was at fault it was his kryptonian genes who made him read “GothamAegis Active. Logged in.”

Jon froze mid-bite of a cookie.

“Wait… what the—?”

Slowly, carefully, Jon stood, pretending to stretch, inching toward the computer like a wildlife photographer stalking a lion.

He squinted at the screen.

It was unmistakable.

The open tab was literally GothamAegis’s profile.
Pinned tweet?
That famous fan essay about Eclipse's 2rd Anniversary, the one Jon had cried reading last year.

Mentions?
Hundreds.
Doxxing alerts.
Auto-generated flag keywords.
Real-time tracking on antis.

Jon’s heart rate jumped.

"No. Freaking. Way."

His brain short-circuited for a second. Then he laughed, too loud, nearly dropping his phone.

“You’re joking. No. No way. This can’t be real.”

“Jon. You should be in bed.”

The voice came from behind.

Jon spun around mid-gasp to find Bruce… standing at the top of the Batcave stairs. Wearing the full tired Dad™ expression. Coffee mug in hand. Looking at him like he was both deeply disappointed and already calculating Jon’s chances of survival.

Jon pointed at the monitor, eyes wide, mouth already running faster than his sense of self-preservation.

“YOU’RE GOTHAMA-AEGIS???”

Bruce didn’t even blink.

“Yes.”

Jon stared. “You… YOU are the one who paid for half the LED banners at the Eclipse World Tour? The one who runs the mass fan shielding protocols? The one who organized that digital charity event for Tae-min’s birthday and stayed anonymous???”

Bruce sipped his coffee. “Yes.”

“YOU’RE THE GUY WHO TOOK DOWN THAT ENTIRE ANTI-FORUM LAST YEAR IN UNDER SIX HOURS?!”

Bruce shrugged, completely unbothered. “They broke federal cybercrime laws. ”

Jon collapsed dramatically onto the floor, clutching his head like a character in a soap opera.

“This is… this is better than when I found out Damian writes soft romance fanfics!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “He does what?”

“NOT THE POINT!”

Jon scrambled back to his feet, pacing like he needed to physically walk the ridiculousness out of his system.

“All this time... And here I was thinking you hated fan culture!”

“I don’t hate fan culture,” Bruce said flatly, setting his coffee down. “I hate invasions of privacy. I hate obsessive antis. And I hate seeing good people torn apart online.”

He glanced at the monitor again.

“They’re good kids,” he added after a beat. Quiet. Almost fond. “They’ve been through enough.”

Jon stopped pacing. Slowly, a grin pulled at his mouth.

“Oh my god… You’re like… the ultimate fan dad.”

Bruce shot him a sharp look.

“Don’t say that.”

“You are!”

“I’m not.”

“You bought out five rows of seats just to block a tabloid reporter from getting pictures of Tae-min during that Seoul event!”

“That was a strategic privacy maneuver.”

“You photoshopped angel wings on Tae-min and posted it with the caption ‘Shine bright, Moon.’”

“…That was for morale.”

Jon burst out laughing, nearly doubling over.

“Dad knows, doesn’t he?” Jon managed between wheezes.

Bruce gave him a long, withering stare.

“He encourages it.”

Jon slapped the nearest console dramatically. “Unbelievable.”

But it explained why GothamAegis was so against people saying Wonder Woman was Tae-min Bio mom. He even posted an edit with Tae-min and his mother side to side to prove the resemblance. Gotham solidarity my ass, the man was jealous of someone claiming his son. 

Then Jon straightened, mischievous sparkle in his eye. “You know… if you ever wanted… I could add you to my Eclipse group chat.”

“No.”

Jon wiggled his brows. “We share edits. Tae-min is my bias, you know?”

Bruce sighed like the weight of fatherhood had finally broken him.

“Don’t tell Damian.”

Jon grinned.

Later that night, when Jon logged into his fan account, there it was:

A new like on a post he’d made about Tae-min.

@GothamAegis liked your tweet.

Jon just shook his head, still grinning.

Notes:

Aegis: Mythological meaning "shield" or divine protection.
Bruce is a dork.
And now he and Jon have a secret together.
Also Jon has a huge crush on Tae-min, the idol, and goes to the shows and make edits. Damian is a enabler, because he thinks it is funny. He also write fanfics of Kol-el x Tae-min, because he is a troll. Kon reads it.
Bruce was trying to compensate his bad choices, but now he is neck deep in the k-pop fandoms because 'oh my god, who will protect this kids??'.
Clark is also a enabler.
Dick does not have a false account, he will go to fandom wars in his Dick Grayson account, he has no fear.

Chapter 21: Let’s Make Him a God

Notes:

If you can't change something? Just control the narrative.

The week after Min-jae came back home was a disaster in the making.
Not because of him, but because… whatever was happening with their youngest.

The lights in Studio 3 flickered every time Tae-min’s emotions spiked during practice.
The stereo shorted twice during vocal rehearsals—always when someone raised their voice at him or any of the members.
When their dance instructor got too harsh with Jiho during a critique, Tae-min’s glare had been enough to make the man physically stumble back, like he’d seen something behind Tae-min that no one else could.

During a late-night choreography session, someone accidentally bumped into Kwan too hard, making him stumble and fall. Tae-min had been across the room… but everyone swore the temperature dropped five degrees before Tae-min appeared at his side in less than a blink.

And not to mention how many nights they woke up to find him looking at them—
His eyes almost glowing in the dark.
Unblinking. Unmoving.

“It’s like a damn cat,” Seojin grumbled. “I can’t sleep with him looking at me.”

The stylists started whispering too.

“Did you notice how his eyes look… lighter? Like gold under certain lights?”
“His cheekbones—are they sharper? Or am I crazy?”
“Did they make the kid get plastic surgery?”

Tae-min had taken to wearing long sleeves and keeping his head down.
But it didn’t help.

The staff noticed. The backup dancers noticed.
People online definitely noticed.

---

🖥️ @LightChaser_Taemin:
“Did y’all see the new behind-the-scenes clip? The part where the lights flicker EXACTLY when Tae-min does that sharp turn?? 👀👀👀”

🖥️ @KwanSmileDaily:
“Honestly at this point if Tae-min suddenly floated mid-performance I’d just applaud. #GodEraConfirmed”

---

Tae-min had pulled one of his disappearing acts again—gone without a word in the middle of the night, only to stumble back home the next morning like nothing had happened.

But everything about him screamed otherwise.

He looked wrecked in a way that sleep couldn’t fix.  Not tired, but… drained. Like someone had wrung him out from the inside. His skin was pale under the kitchen lights, his eyes red and swollen like he’d been crying for hours. The same clothes from the night before still clinging to him, wrinkled and smelling faintly of smoke, cold air, and sweat.

His sister had come back with him this time, trailing a few steps behind like she didn’t want to let him out of her sight. So he must have gone to her place.

He didn’t look at anyone.
Didn’t even glance at the breakfast Kwan had set out.  He just… drifted past them like a ghost and disappeared into his bedroom.

Cass stood for a second at the doorway, watching his retreating back with that same carefully blank expression she always wore. But if you knew her… if you looked close enough… there were cracks around the edges.

“Noona… Is he okay?” Jiho asked in a small voice from where he sat on the floor, holding a piece of toast like it suddenly weighed too much.

Min-jae didn’t wait for her to respond.  Didn’t need to.

He was already moving.

He knocked softly at the bathroom door when he saw the light on, but didn’t wait for permission before pushing it open.

Tae-min stood in front of the mirror, frozen halfway through peeling off his hoodie. His breathing was shallow. Shoulders hunched and tight.

And there… curling down both his forearms…Golden lines.

Sharp and intricate.
Like vines and ancient script braided together.  Not regular tattoos—nothing human-made. The lines shifted faintly when the light hit them, as though the ink itself was alive. The symbols wrapped and folded into each other like living threads of language burned beneath his skin, shimmering under the thin layer of sweat still clinging to him from whatever had been done.

And by the look on Tae-min’s face he hadn’t known they would be there.

He looked… Startled.  Shaken.  Fragile in a way Min-jae rarely saw.

“…Tae…”
Min-jae’s voice cracked around the word, low and careful.

Tae-min flinched, turning fast—still shirtless—to face him.

Min-jae’s eyes dropped instantly to the markings on his arms.
His stomach twisted.

“…When did you get those?”
His voice stayed soft. Not accusing. Not panicked. Just… reaching.

Tae-min opened his mouth.
Paused.
Closed it again like the truth tasted wrong.

Finally, he exhaled a shaky breath and forced out a quiet, miserable:

“…It’s complicated, hyung.”

Min-jae didn’t blink. Didn’t ask for more.
Didn’t push.

He just stepped forward, closing the distance between them in two strides, and rested a steady, grounding hand on Tae-min’s bare shoulder.

“Okay,” Min-jae said, voice as solid as the earth beneath them.  “We’ll figure it out.”

---

The atmosphere in the practice room was… strange.

Not the usual “we’re tired from practice” kind of strange.
Not even the “someone forgot the choreography again” kind.

No. This was the kind of strange where the lights flickered every time Tae-min moved too fast. It was like every breath he took charged the room with static.

 It was better than before, but there was no hiding his appearance.

 Speculations about him getting plastic surgery were everywhere.
The Halos kept defending him, talking about makeup and styling tricks, but there was only so much they could do about… all the rest.

Jiho was the first to say it out loud.

“You guys know I grew up hearing stories about gods, right?”
He dropped his phone to the floor and crossed his arms, staring at everyone.
“Shiva. Krishna. Vishnu. Entities with multiple forms. Avatars that walked the world in human shapes but weren’t… exactly human.”

Kwan let out a nervous laugh. “Please don’t start with this.”

“I’m serious.” Jiho pointed directly at Tae-min, who was currently sitting in the corner of the room, sweaty and breathless, his sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the strange marks now covering his forearms—thin lines, like ancient runes, burned into his skin like tattoos but faintly glowing when the light hit at certain angles. He was glowing, like the air around him bent the light. 

Seojin, sprawled stomach-down on the floor across the room, didn’t even look up from his tablet.
“He’s a meta,” he said flatly. “Late-blooming meta human. Happens all the time. Most logical explanation.”

“Oh sure,” Jiho shot back, full sarcasm. “Because meta humans are out here being called ‘lord’ by old folks. Last week there were people bowing to him. Sometimes I want to, and I don’t even know why.”

“Not impossible,” Seojin grumbled, though even he looked worried.

Min-jae, silent until now, finally spoke.
“The only thing that matters is… he’s not okay. Whatever’s happening is worrying him a lot.”

Kwan, sitting beside him, nodded.
“We need to protect him. And… make it look intentional.”

Jiho blinked. “What do you mean?”

Kwan adjusted the collar of his T-shirt and explained, “Things are getting stranger by the day. And people are starting to notice. The dancers. The stylists. The producers. People on the internet. ”

Min-jae added, voice calm but focused,
“If people start thinking he’s a meta losing control… or that something’s seriously wrong… this will blow up faster than the company can bury it.”

Seojin put the tablet down.
“So… what do we do?”

Jiho took a deep breath.
“We do what we’ve always done.  We tell the story first.  Before anyone else can tell it for us.”

They all turned toward him.

“And what story is that?” Min-jae asked, quiet but sharp-eyed.

Jiho’s smile was small, almost sad, but there was that same determined glint in his eyes.

“Divine.” He said. “Gods. Entities. Avatars.  We make the comeback a tribute to mythology.  The weird aura around him? That’s the concept.  The new tattoos? Part of the styling. The lighting glitches? Stage effects. Any strange behavior? Method acting.”

Kwan let out a low whistle.
“Honestly… not the worst idea.”

Min-jae crossed his arms.
“We control the narrative. And if anyone gets too suspicious, we just say it’s performance method.”

Seojin, now standing, already flipping through mental plans for interviews, added,
“They’re expecting a reborn Eclipse after the hiatus… So let’s give them a transcendental Eclipse.”

Jiho grinned. “Exactly.”

The four of them turned toward Tae-min, who was still sitting in the corner, now looking at them like he knew—exactly—that he was the topic of discussion.

“You heard all that, didn’t you?” Jiho asked.

Tae-min gave them a small, crooked smile.
The runes on his arms glowed faintly as he dragged a hand through his sweat-damp hair.

“You’re all idiots,” he said, voice low and thick with affection. “But… thanks.”

Kwan stood and walked over, tossing a towel over Tae-min’s head with casual, disguised fondness.
“Of course we are. Now get up. We’ve got a god to choreograph and a lore to start.”

---

Social Media Comments (That Same Night):

@MoonlightForEclipse:
“GUYS??? Tae-min’s tattoos??? The lights flickering during the dance practice??? Is this the comeback concept??? #EclipseDivineEra”

@HaloGuardian88:
“If the concept is gods, Tae-min is clearly the god of death. No one can convince me otherwise.”

@GothamAegis:
[Photo of Tae-min mid-practice, runes visible under the studio lights. Caption: “They did an amazing job working the concept over the last few weeks.”]
 Likes: 12k | Retweets: 4k

---

Somewhere near the docks of Guangzhou, after another long night of cleaning up magical fallout, Constantine lit a cigarette with shaking hands. His coat still smelled like burnt ozone. The edges of a containment glyph were still flickering weakly on the asphalt nearby.

He didn’t flinch when Batman appeared behind him like a shadow slipping between worlds.

“Thought you were busy in Gotham, gorgeous.” Constantine said, exhaling smoke through a tired smirk. “Or are you just here to check my homework?”

Bruce didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“How is he?”  Direct. Low. A voice like gravel and threat.

Constantine dragged on his cigarette before answering.

“He’s… coping,” Constantine said, with all the weight that word could carry. “The ward’s holding—for now. The ink’s binding well to the skin, reacting to stress the way we expected. I carved in enough failsafes to knock him out if he snaps, but… it’s a patch job. You know that.”

Bruce said nothing for a moment. His gaze drifted toward the horizon where the city lights blurred into low clouds.

“And the powers?” Bruce asked finally. “Escalating?”

Constantine let out a bitter laugh. “Like clockwork. Every emotional spike pulls more bleed through the barrier. And he’s a very emotional kid… now that he feels safe enough to be.” Another drag, longer this time. “The runes are buying us time, but not control. Diana’s helping where she can, grounding him. She knows what to do with his kind.“

He tilted his head, giving Bruce a long, knowing look.

“You knew it would happen this way. It’s your work too, darling.”

“I wanted to know if it’s containable,” Bruce said quietly. “If we can still ground him.”

“For now,” Constantine answered. “But he’s changing. Fast. Faster than even I thought.”

Another pause.

Then Constantine added, softer this time, almost reluctant, “The boy’s strong. Resilient. But he’s scared of himself. And with good reason. Gods… gods made like this usually don’t get happy endings.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. Shoulders squared, just a little.

“He has people to help,” Bruce said, voice steady but low. “People who won’t let him fall.”

Constantine gave a faint, crooked smirk. “You mean Diana? Me?” He took another drag, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and exhaustion. “Or you?”

Bruce didn’t answer. His gaze had already turned back toward the shadows at the edge of the pier.

Constantine waved a lazy hand, like swatting away smoke—or maybe inevitability.

“Relax, Bats. Between your paranoia, Diana’s ancient wisdom, and my amazing warding… the kid’s about as protected as anyone in his situation can be. Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt like hell when it breaks loose… but he won’t be alone when it happens. Until then, he’ll be in control and without the need of training wheels.”

Bruce nodded once, already turning to leave.

But before he could vanish fully into the dark, Constantine called after him, voice rough but, for once, almost kind.

“He knows, you know.”

Bruce paused. Just for a beat.

“He’s a smart kid,” Constantine continued, tapping ash onto the cracked pavement. “Smarter than you. ”

No response.

“He knows you’re paranoid. Knows how you move behind the scenes. He can feel your fingerprints on this whole thing. The upgrade in my wards, the security shifts, the way Zatanna got that portal open fast enough to yank him out of Seoul without blinking…” Constantine shook his head with something close to fond disbelief. “He knows you’re covering for him. He knows how you tick, darling.”

Bruce still didn’t answer.

“Oh, love…” Constantine muttered under his breath. “Just talk to your kid. Your stupid, stubborn, beautiful little—Bloody hell.” He blinked, looking around. “Where did he go?”

Batman was already gone. Swallowed by the night like he’d never been there at all.

Constantine let out a long, weary breath, staring up at the dim, polluted sky.

“Bloody sentimental bat,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Charming fool.”

And somewhere, half a world away, in a small, dimly lit studio apartment in Seoul…
Tae-min sat curled on the floor of his bedroom, absently tracing the runes burned into his skin with trembling fingers.
A faint, tired smile ghosted across his lips.

 

Notes:

I love that Constantine can flirt with anyone, but when he flirts with Bruce... cheff kiss.
Also, yes, Bruce. You're a moron. TALK WITH YOUR KID.
Eclipse boys are there gaslighting, gatekeeping and girlbossing their way. The halos are no far behid. They have Tae-mins back.
Like, if someone say that Tae-min is a meta? "People from Gotham are like that. It is in the water." "Wonder Woman's kid, duh." "He was always like that, what do you mean?"

Chapter 22: Six Months to Godhood (and a Stage Comeback)

Notes:

A lot can happen in six months.
Or
Diana, Bruce and Constantine co-parenting.

The six months leading to Eclipse’s comeback were… complicated.

By day, Tae-min trained like every other idol on a comeback schedule—
Dance rehearsals until his knees ached, vocal lessons that left his throat raw, choreography revisions that demanded perfection down to the millimeter.
Every spin, every note, every micro-expression rehearsed until muscle memory took over.

But by night…
By night, he was something else entirely.

---

It started with Diana’s intervention—or, as Constantine liked to call it: “Mother knows best.”

Somehow—Tae-min still didn’t know how—she’d pulled every string, called in every favor, and probably bent some law just enough to secure him special authorization from Themyscira.

A loophole.
A blessing.
A debt owed by gods whose names mortals didn’t speak lightly.

Whatever it was, for the first time in history, a boy stepped onto Amazonian soil not as an invader, not as an accident of fate, but as a student.

Every night, Zatanna opened a portal, plucking him from Korea and dropping him onto Themysciran training grounds like some weird, magical custody arrangement.

It was lucky he barely needed sleep anymore.
He ran on adrenaline, stubbornness, and divine-juice.

---

On Themyscira, Tae-min learned discipline. Control. Containment.
How to breathe without dragging the fear of everyone nearby into his lungs.
How to hold still when the runes burned under his skin, screaming to lash out.
There were days when the air grew too heavy, when his aura cracked and bled, making even the most seasoned Amazons pause mid-step.
Shadows coiled at his feet like loyal strays and he lashed out with a rage that wasn’t his, the air humming with static before he spoke.

And through it all, Diana stood by him—steady, unflinching, and immovable.
Her hands would ground him when his nerves shook.
Her voice—sharp, maternal, relentless—cut through when he started to drift.
She pushed him physically too, brutal and tireless, showing him exactly where Cassie learned her brand of ferocity, helping his body to adapt to a new strength.
Themyscira didn’t offer comfort.
It offered steel.
And Tae-min clung to it like oxygen.

---

It was in his second month when the summons came.
An amazon found him post-training, still dripping sweat and golden static.
“The Queen will see you now.”

Barefoot, Tae-min walked marble corridors that smelled of sea salt and old power.
Hippolyta sat on her throne, gaze sharp as any blade.

“Sit,” she commanded.
He obeyed, like a schoolboy awaiting judgment.

“You’re here because of Diana,” she began, tone cool and distant. “She bent the rules for you. Asked for sanctuary… and for answers.”
Her gaze narrowed, studying him like a riddle.
“The island feels you,” she continued. “As something Other. Even among us.”

Tae-min almost laughed at that. Quiet and bitter.

She descended the throne, movements slow and deliberate.
“At first, I thought you reminded me of Thanatos… but no. You are what happens when the boundary between life and death fractures but does not break.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“You are a living threshold. Born from suffering and hope… from a last breath and a first one. A deity that shouldn’t exist.”

Tae-min’s throat tightened. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“No one chosen for this kind of power ever does.”
A pause.
“You’re a child of the in-between,” she said finally. “A walking Psychopomp… and something more dangerous still. A liminal force that pulls life and death into orbit as if they belong to you. That makes you powerful… and deeply cursed. You don’t belong anywhere .”

Her words settled like iron on his chest.
But then—unexpectedly—she stepped closer, two calloused fingers tipped his chin up.

“But Diana believes in you,” she said softly. “So much that this island is now your home too. Do you understand?”

He nodded. 

She smiled.

“Good.”

---

Later that night, alone in the archives, Hippolyta stood before the ancient Scripts of Favor.
Tae-min’s name glowed faint and gold—marked by Artemis herself.

 Whatever strings Diana pulled… The gods had answered.

Tae-min wasn’t just Diana’s responsibility now.

To take the boy to the island, under their protection, Diana made him her own.

---

When he wasn’t on Themyscira, Tae-min was at the Justice League Dark headquarters with Cass—somehow both worse and better at the same time.

It was a place full of people so tangled in magic, trauma, and terrible coping mechanisms that League protocol felt more like a polite suggestion than a rule.
Tae-min fit right in.

They taught him how to work with his breaking points, not against them.
How to filter the voices in his head and push back when the emotional echoes of others threatened to swallow him whole.

Cass was shadowing them like she could physically fight off fate itself.
When Tae-min’s powers slipped, she was the first to ground him—literally—by tackling him to the floor or slamming him into a wall when necessary.  When the fear aura got too sharp, she’d grab his face, force eye contact, and remind him he was still here, still Tae-min, still himself. It was ideal, she was the only person he was sure he would never hurt, no matter his state of mind.

 Constantine, in particular, taught him how to bleed without breaking.
How to weaponize this power without drowning in it.

Every time a new flare-up of power knocked him down, Constantine was there the next day with a solution—some new binding, some ritual, some ancient text pulled out of nowhere like it’d just fallen into his lap.

Tae-min wasn’t stupid.
He knew exactly who kept feeding Constantine those answers.

One night, after a particularly brutal training session that left Tae-min curled on the floor he muttered into the dark:

“He’s an idiot.”

Constantine, seated cross-legged nearby with a half-empty bottle and a cigarette burning low between his fingers, let out a rough, low laugh.

“He is,” he agreed easily, like it was the most obvious truth in the world.

For a long moment, they sat in silence—just the crackle of the cigarette and Tae-min’s uneven breathing filling the space between them.

Then, without looking at him, Constantine spoke again—quieter this time, like the words weren’t meant to be said out loud but slipped through anyway.

“In all the years I’ve known that bastard… I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.”

Tae-min blinked, still catching his breath. “Like what?”

“Lost,” Constantine said simply. “Scared.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling smoke like it tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Scared of what? Me?” Tae-min asked, not sure if he was joking.

“Not of you,” Constantine said, shaking his head. “For you.”

That hit harder than Tae-min wanted to admit. He stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the ache in his chest.

“He loves you, kid,” Constantine continued, voice rough but honest in a way that made it worse. “In his broken, repressed, catastrophically unhealthy way. This coming from another broken bastard.”

Tae-min let out a small, humorless laugh. “Since when are you this observant?”

Constantine smirked, but didn’t answer the jab.

“I know he loves me,” Tae-min muttered after a beat. “But he doesn’t know how to love anyone without trying to control the outcome. Without calculating risk and making contingency plans.”

He let the words settle, heavy and bitter.

“And this…” Constantine gestured vaguely toward him—toward the glowing runes burning faintly under Tae-min’s skin, toward the air still crackling with leftover power from his latest surge—“…this terrifies him. Because he can’t control it. Not really. And that pisses him off. Makes him care harder. Meaner. Like love is just another problem to solve if he throws enough plans and paranoia at it.”

Tae-min closed his eyes, the truth of it hitting a little too raw.

“He thinks… if he stays in the shadows, if he pulls strings from a distance, he won’t mess it up worse.” Constantine’s smile turned bitter. “He doesn’t think he deserves more than that.”

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then Constantine added, softer this time—like he almost regretted giving Bruce that much grace:

“I’m not saying this so you forgive him. I’m just… saying. He’s trying. In his own catastrophically broken way.”

Tae-min huffed a tired, crooked smile.

“Idiot,” he said again, voice rough but full of affection he wouldn’t name.

“Full-on idiot,” Constantine agreed, raising his bottle in a lazy, smoke-laced toast.

---

And then… there was Young Justice.

Or as Constantine liked to call them: “The Emotional Damage Support Group.”

Kon, Cassie, and Bart didn’t wait for invitations.
They showed up at practice runs.
Crashed occult training sessions like it was their birthright.
Sat next to Tae-min when he hyperventilated after a bad spell backlash.
Dragged him into chaotic group calls mid-meltdown just to make stupid faces at him until he cracked a smile.
And on more than one occasion, they straight-up broke into Constantine’s safehouse because, as Bart put it, “ He looked sad over text.”

When Tae-min needed sparring partners to test his new reflexes or short-range teleports, Kon and Cassie were there—tanking every stray energy pulse he lost control over, laughing when they got thrown across the room.

When the voices got too loud—when guilt sharpened into hallucinations and shadows crawled out of the walls—Bart would physically plant himself on Tae-min’s lap like some over-caffeinated therapy dog, babbling nonsense until Tae-min either laughed or snapped and threw him across the mats.
Both counted as wins.

Cassie’s favorite method of emotional regulation became “punch him into the dirt until he screams himself hoarse, then hug him after.”
It worked disturbingly well.

And Kon? Kon would walk straight through Tae-min’s worst ward flares without blinking.
Through burning sigils and crackling kinetic blasts. Literally scoop him up—scorch marks and all—and hold him until the shaking stopped.

They weren’t scared of him.  Not even when the others were.
Not when the air around him turned sharp with magic and grief and godhood barely held together by Constantine’s runes.
Not when he exploded training dummies in bursts of shadows.
Not when he cursed, screamed, or let the cruel, tired god inside him bleed to the surface for just a second too long.

To them, it was just…
Another Thursday.

More than once, a veteran hero watching from a distance had muttered under their breath:

“Why the hell are they like this?”

To which Constantine, dragging long on his cigarette like a man already planning his retirement, always answered with the same tired grin:

“Because no one raised them properly… so they raised each other.”

---

Meanwhile, the countdown for Eclipse’s comeback ticked closer.

Photo teasers dropped weekly.
Hashtags trended like wildfire.

They made videos with teases, interviews and variety shows.
Fans speculated about Tae-min’s “divine glow” and the #GodEra.
No one guessed the truth behind it. If they did, they didn’t say anything.

Backstage, Tae-min learned to keep his aura in check, even when his skin lit up with gold sigils, even when shadows moved wrong under the studio lights.

By the time there were only two weeks left until Eclipse’s first stage, he could get through a full rehearsal without being spooky.

It was almost as if he was normal.

Most days.

---

Cassie forwarded the mission log first. A distress call, off-world.  A cleanup that the League couldn’t prioritize.
Low-risk… theoretically.

 Kon replied less than sixty seconds later with a “It would be a good opportunity to test your god-juice, Gwidan. Let’s go?”
Bart was already packing snacks and making a playlist.

The rational part of him knew this was a bad idea.

Technically, the company had given them two weeks as "rest period" before stage week.
The others were visiting family, filming variety shows, or taking staycations. His plan was to spend those days training with Diana.

He could go.
Physically, he felt ready.
PR would kill him if he got injured now.
The entire Eclipse staff would collectively combust if they found out he was going off-planet before the most important performance of his career… But.

He needed to know if all this training meant something,  if he could handle real pressure again,  if he could survive something…  without breaking apart.

He always worked better under pressure.

Gwidam:
When do we leave?

It was a simple mission.
Just Young Justice. Young Just Us.
Just like old times.

What could possibly go wrong?

---

(Somewhere far away, Constantine read the same mission notification and sighed like a man watching a train wreck in slow motion.)

"Bloody hell…"

---

They were supposed to be back in five days.
Max.
A quick, low-risk off-world mission. Clean up. Extraction. Home in time for the final dress rehearsals.

Instead…

On the first day, the Justice League lost all communication with them.
No signals. No updates. Just static and unanswered pings across half the quadrant.

By the time they finally reappeared—exactly  two days before Eclipse’s scheduled comeback stage—they looked…
Well.
Let’s just say:
They had stories.

In two  weeks, the team had:
— Accidentally saved an entire galaxy,
— Got themselves banned from another,
—Managed to get Tae-min and Kon married (temporarily, diplomatically, and for “a good cause” involving saving a small planet from cultural collapse),
— Tae-min earned himself official god status on three minor worlds,

 — Discovered that Tae-min could do something with time, because for them it was a lot longer. He made himself sick with worry thinking he had let his group down in their comeback.

And somehow…
Somehow…
Tae-min discovered that under extreme intergalactic pressure and fueled by thousands of sudden off-world worshippers…
He could control his powers now.
Just fine.

Or at least… fine enough to not cause major incidents.

By the time the League debriefed them (read: yelled at them for three hours straight), Tae-min’s power felt like a small, humming supernova trapped inside his chest, compact and burning and dangerously contained—but contained.

No adult hero was happy with them

But standing in the corner, still wearing a cracked shield plate and half of someone else’s cape, Kon had grinned like an idiot and said:

“Honestly? Total success.”

And Tae-min—bruised, exhausted, still a little radioactive with divine energy— just smiled and agreed.

---

Back in Korea, between the rush of makeup and last time adjustments, when someone asked about his vacation he just smiled: “it was great.”

 

Notes:

Not all adult heroes were unhappy. Constantine was laughing his ass off in a corner and Clark was smiling like crazy in the part were Kon and Tae-min married because 'you see? Diana, Bruce? He is family now. I win."
Also Diana just adopted first and asked later a child.
Diana and Constantine planning their weird custody arrangement. - I mean, training:
Diana: I got him until sunday, then you, John
Batman: How about me?
John: You can have him when you stop being a bitch.

Also
I never thought I would someday write John, Diana and Bruce co-parenting a child. The more you know.

NO ONE can control Young Just Us.
Not even themselves.

Chapter 23: The threshold

Notes:

The comeback.
Also Ives and Bernard are here.

The stage was silent.

A single breath cut through the dark, shallow, ragged, somewhere between a gasp and a prayer.
Then came the sound of a distorted heartbeat, low and pulsing, followed by the mournful drag of a bow across violin strings.

And then: light.
Gold. Blinding. Unforgiving.
It cut through the blackout like judgment, like sunrise forced through a locked door.

At the center of it all stood Tae-min.

Alone.
Draped in black laced with threadbare gold, barefoot and radiant, framed by white-silver hair that shimmered like divine metal.
The runes on his skin, faint, glowing, flickered beneath the stage lighting with every movement.
The violin rested at his shoulder like it had been waiting for him all its life.

And when the bow touched string—
The world stopped breathing.

---

The weeks leading up to Eclipse’s comeback were chaos.

Two days before the live broadcast, headlines screamed in every language:

 “ECLIPSE TAE-MIN MISSING?!”
  “COMEBACK CANCELLED? AGENCY SILENT AMID ONLINE PANIC”
  “TAE-MIN SPOTTED IN KOREA WITH SUPERBOY?!”

The fandom was a storm of conspiracy theories, countdowns, live spaces, and full-on digital prayer circles.

So when the livestream finally began, broadcast in 4K, beamed into over 12 million devices worldwide, there was one overwhelming response:

Shock.
They were finally back.
They were… something else.

---

The performance didn’t feel like a show.
It felt like a response to a prayer. Beautiful, reverent.

Tae-min’s violin cried, notes stretched like old wounds reopened and cured, and the arena’s air grew thick. It was like a warm hug, like shelter. A road to the lost.
His eyes opened mid-bridge: glowing faintly gold.

[ LIVE COMMENTS]
“Why am I crying??”
“This is literally religious.”
“WHO GAVE HIM TRAUMA AND A VIOLIN?”
“This isn’t K-pop, it’s celestial warfare.”
“The stage is glitching. I swear it just glitched.”
“I’ve been spiritually attacked.”
“WHO ALLOWED THIS???”

Then came the others, like they’d been summoned by the music.

Min-jae’s voice thundered into the second verse, powerful and resonant like the cracking of sky.
Seojin and Kwan appeared next, moving in hypnotic synchronicity. Then Jiho’s vocals weave like smoke between falsetto and growl.

The second chorus exploded into a wall of orchestral-EDM.
Tae-min dropped the violin with precise elegance and stepped into the choreography like he was always there. The group was in sync, like one. And when the final beat hit, the entire stage cut to black.

Two full seconds of silence, then an explosion of gold.

The members froze in a circular formation, halos of light around them.
At the center stood Tae-min, arms open wide like a god receiving worship.

And then, softly, almost cruelly intimate, he began to sing.

---

#EclipseDivineEra – trending #1 globally
 #GodModeTaeMin
 #ViolinSummoner
 #ThisIsntKpopAnymore
 #MetaIdolConfirmed
 #EclipseComeback2025

 Twitter Thread – @KpopLoreMaster
[ THREAD] Why Tae-min Might Literally Be a Meta

Okay, LISTEN.
Multiple fancams caught distortion every time Tae-min faced the camera head-on.
We’re not talking filters. Actual lens tearing.

[ Video: Stage rippling like water as Tae-min’s hand lifts mid-chorus]
[ Zoom-in: His irises  GOLD.]

Conclusion:
We just witnessed a meta or a god descend mid-broadcast and none of us are okay.

 Top replies:

“He’s from Gotham. This is considered mild.” 

        “Are you serious?”
        “We literally have Killer Croc in our sewers, glowing eyes are fine.”

“If he’s a meta, he’s mine now.”
“This performance baptized me I think.”
“The bar for live shows is now divinity.” 

“Eyes contats exist, you guys know that right?”

“It’s a CONCEPT.”

“It would be cool if we have a meta K-pop idol, maybe the government would care more about us.”

---

 Viral TikTok – @violin_boi_wrecked_me

 POV: You came for a dance and left with spiritual trauma.

Top Comments:
“I got chills. I got healed .”
“This wasn’t a comeback, it was an answer to a prayer .”
“I’d join his cult in a heartbeat.”

---

 SeoulStageDaily
“Eclipse’s Divine Era Redefines the Stage and Maybe Reality”
by Lee Haneul

“Eclipse’s return has shattered all expectations. Whether by design or something stranger, their new ‘Divine Threshold’ concept pushes the boundaries between music, performance, and mythology.

While their agency remains silent on the visual glitches and inexplicable stage effects, fans are already calling this the most ambitious comeback in K-pop history.

Is it art? Is it meta-humanism? The fact is, concept or not, Eclipse simply had become a boyband of gods.”

---

 Tumblr – user: cryptid-kingdom

listen.
I know parasocial bonds are dangerous, but if Tae-min opened a cult I’d follow him into the woods with zero hesitation.

---

 Instagram – @eclipse_official

Caption: The threshold has been crossed. Thank you for waiting.
— Eclipse 🌘
[ Post-stage group shot. All members radiant. Tae-min center, golden glow lightly edited into the lighting. Every face smug like they just altered K-pop forever.]

---

Clips of the stage glitching mid-performance hit Twitter and TikTok faster than Eclipse’s PR team could blink.

“Did the lights short-circuit or did the fabric of reality?”
“The choreography was literally a Celtic invocation. ”
“Final formation = altar. You can't convince me otherwise.”
“Pretty sure I just got baptized through my screen.”
“Tae-min’s eyes went gold. Not ‘stage light reflection’ gold.”
“Is he a meta?? I don’t care. I’d let him smite me.”

Screenshots emerged, paused frames where Tae-min’s eyes flashed gold, his silhouette warped in flickering light. Fans debated lens flares, contact lenses, magic, or metaphysical awakening.

No one had answers.
Only awe.

---

Backstage, the air was thick with post-show adrenaline.

Tae-min leaned against a wall, lungs still catching up with his heartbeat, fast and relentless, like a second percussion track inside his chest.

The others rushed him.

“WE DID IT!” Jiho practically shouted, eyes wide, voice wrecked with emotion. 

“We’re literally trending in 15 languages,” Kwan said, holding up his phone with a fanedit already at 800k views. “Someone tagged you as a meta, and honestly? People are into it. Now is your call.”
Min-jae didn’t even speak, he just pulled Tae-min into a crushing hug, grinning so wide it looked painful. His fingers trembled with pride.

Cass, who had somehow hacked her way past security, stormed into the dressing room like it was a battlefield and threw her arms around him.

“Beautiful,” she said, beaming.

She high-fived Jiho so hard it echoed.

Tae-min could only laugh.
Breathless. Shaky. A little dazed.

But for the first time in months he felt like himself again.

No longer hiding.
No longer shrinking to fit the world's expectations.
No longer alone inside something he didn’t fully understand.

He’d stepped onto that stage a secret.
He stepped off it as a storm.

 

---

He Wasn’t Supposed to Be Here.

Not in Korea.
Not in a high-tech music arena filled with thousands of screaming fans.
Not standing beside Bernard, watching one of his oldest friends prepare to step onto a stage dressed as a god.

Bernard nudged him gently, pulling him back from the spiral.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft beneath the thunder of the opening VCR trailer.

Ives forced a smile and nodded, though his hand curled tightly inside the pocket of his jacket, gripping the envelope he hadn’t let go of in days.

They’d spent months planning this surprise for Tae-min. He had no idea they’d flown across the world just to watch his comeback in person.  They had tried before, tried so many times, but life always got in the way.

First, Bernard’s parents had kicked him out as soon as he turned eighteen. Then Ives’s own parents had moved back to France and offered to take him with them, but Gotham was home, even when it hurt. They understood, but they hadn’t been happy.

Now the two of them were sharing a cramped apartment near Gotham U, juggling part-time jobs, classes, and a slowly building sense of normalcy.

Things were good.
Or they should’ve been.

Except for the blood test results Ives had gotten three days ago.

He hadn’t told anyone. Not Bernard. Not his parents.
Definitely not Tae-min.

He hadn’t wanted to cancel the trip, not when Bernard was so excited. Not when he himself had been holding onto this for months.

But he knew.

The cancer was back.
And this time… it felt heavier. Closer.  Like a countdown had already begun.

On the screen, static bloomed into golden light. and a digital city unfolded, a crown of neon, mirrored sky and myth.  And then the first note of the violin rang out.

Slow. Aching. Holy.

Tae-min appeared. Draped in white and gold, barefoot and radiant. His silver-white hair shimmered like moonlight. The golden runes winding up his arms pulsed faintly as he raised the violin to his shoulder.

He played like someone remembering pain and offering it back to the world as something beautiful.

Ives didn’t realize he was crying until Bernard silently pressed a tissue into his hand.

---

They hadn’t seen each other in person in two years.
Not really.

There had been messages. Voice notes. Video calls.  But the last time they’d stood face to face, they were seventeen.

Bernard had invited Tae-min to a dumb BuzzFeed Unsolved watch party, convinced he wouldn’t come. Tae-min showed up anyway, arriving in Superboy’s arms like it was the most normal thing in the world.

That was just like him.

They met when they were seven.
Or, more accurately, when a transfer student with ice-blue eyes and silence like a shield was dropped into Ives’s classroom and assigned the seat beside him. He was the only Asian kid there.

He hadn’t spoken for three days. Then Darla gave him half a cookie, Ives made a sarcastic crack about the teacher’s wig, and Tae-min laughed.

And stayed.

Through the school shooting.
Through the earthquake.
Through the funerals—Darla, Ariana, Tae-min’s own parents.

Ives held his hand at the cemetery, whispered, “You still have me.”

And Tae-min, eyes blank from too much grief in a short time, had whispered back, “I know.”

When Ives was diagnosed, Tae-min never cried. Never treated him like he was already gone.

When his own parents couldn’t handle watching their son fade, when they left, Tae-min stayed. Held the bucket. Cleaned the sheets. Stayed.

“I’m tired,” Ives had whispered.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“Then you’re not done yet.”

And,  somehow, Ives survived.

---

Backstage after the show, they followed flashing corridor lights and passed through security checkpoints with the special access passes Cass had slipped them.

Bernard was bouncing with excitement.
Ives stayed quiet. Still. Listening.

The hallway was dimmer. The arena noise was distant. They turned the last corner. The dressing room door was already open.

Tae-min sat on a bench, face bare, sweat still clinging to his skin. He looked up and froze, like he couldn’t believe they were real.

“Ives? Bernie?”

His voice cracked. He stood, smile breaking across his face so fast it almost looked painful.
He was even more beautiful than before, which Ives had once considered impossible.

“Pretty boy,” Darla used to say. “Prettier than any girl, Timmy. Don’t pout.”

Bernard went red like a fire hydrant, and Ives nearly laughed if he didn’t feel like crying again.

“I didn’t know you guys would come—” Tae-min said, already crossing the space, reaching for Ives’s hand with both of his.

As soon as he touched him, Tae-min froze.
His brow furrowed.

“…Tae?” Ives asked, voice low.

Tae-min’s breath hitched. His gaze flicked up.
Then suddenly, without a word, he pulled Ives into a crushing hug.

Ives was surprised. He never liked touch much, their Tae-min. Never one for many hugs. It was warm. Steady. Like being pulled into the eye of a storm and finding silence there.

Ives blinked, hugged him back, closing his eyes.
He didn’t say what he wanted to.
Didn’t tell him about the tests.
Didn’t say please stay, I don’t know how to do this without you.

Because Tae-min had a life now. Far from Gotham. Far from the sadness. Far from the Waynes. He looked calmer, happier. Without bruises or sad eyes. 

He deserved it.

Suddenly, Ives felt something shift. Like he’d stepped through a veil. Like gravity let go of him. The pain that was always there was gone. It was so abrupt that he felt almost dizzy.

Tae-min pulled back, staggering slightly, blood dripping from one nostril.

Bernard gasped. “Tae—?”

“I’m fine,” Tae-min said quickly, swiping it away with his sleeve. “ Happens sometimes.”

Bernard didn’t look convinced. Ives was still trying to name the stillness in his chest.

They stayed for a while. Talked about Gotham, university, the show, Bernard’s wild theories.
Until the rest of the Eclipse boys stormed in, and Bernard had a second gay panic, this time over Kwan.

It was good. Familiar. Warm.

They promised to see each other again soon.

Ives didn’t mention the tests.

---

A week later, he went to retest.

The results came back clean.

No evidence of malignant cells.

He sat in his apartment, holding the paper in his lap, staring at the words.
His body no longer ached. His hands no longer trembled.

He remembered Tae-min’s touch.
The hug.
The steadiness.

And he knew.

He couldn’t explain it.
But deep in his bones, the ones now whole, he knew Tae-min had done something.

Just like when they were kids.
When everyone else gave up.

Except for him.

"You're not done yet."

Ives cried.

Notes:

Ives, my baby.

 

Constatine: Please, don't answer any prayers.
Tae-min: Doing miracles as if it is nothing.

Constantine: Let's try not to draw attention to your powers.
Tae-min: Almost coming out as a meta.

Constantine looking at Diana: It's your fault.

Eclipse is gonna start a revolution one of this days, if they're not careful.

Chapter 24: Who the hell is Gwidam?

Summary:

People outside Asia discover Gwidam

Notes:

Do you know when the music only you liked start to go viral?
That is the feeling.
A bit happy.
A bit possessive.
"He was OURS first."

[TWITTER/X THREAD @metaWatchdog | 22.4K likes | 7.9K retweets]
@metaWatchdog
okay but I need y’all to realize what just happened:
Young Justice quietly rebranded themselves mid-mission and expected us not to notice 

Wonder Girl is now Astraea
Superboy? Now Supernova
Bart still goes by Impulse , because of course he does
Gwidam and Orphan are with them now?? Regularly?? 

JDL adopted them?  Where is Red Robin??

— it’s giving Found Family but make it ✨eerie ✨

REPLY [@batinfoleak]
Really happy for them because, like, there were two superboys now, it was confusing and they are more than sidekicks, always were.

But.

Who the hell is Gwidam?

[TWITTER/X @batinfoleak | 45K likes]
The moment I asked “who is Gwidam?” and people in Seoul, Tokyo, Busan, and Taipei all answered with DIFFERENT stories.
He’s lore .  And his design is so cool.  How come I didn’t know of this king?

[TUMBLR POST @batlinesecrets | 89K notes]
Gwidam was supposed to be our myth .
Now he’s trending worldwide.

but get this: Us from Asia? We’ve known about him.
Thread of East Asian interviews, blog posts, and idol fan videos from like three years ago casually mentioning Gwidam like he’s a neighborhood cryptid with manners.

People see him like some deity. There are shrines, they leave jasmin tea for him and all that.

Old people love him. Animals love him. Kids. There are videos of cats, dogs, foxes and crows following him like a damn disney princess.

Why didn't you know about him?

Because until now, he didn’t want you to.

The Gwidam Archives – Asia’s Digital Conspiracy Board 

 [Anonymous Board | THREAD: “Gwidam Sightings: 3 Years Underground”]
  Pinned Post by: @LanternsFade
  36.4K comments |  220K upvotes
"You don’t find Gwidam. Gwidam finds you. If he wants to."

 @LanternsFade (Original Poster)
So I’ve been compiling eyewitness accounts of Gwidam during the "Missing Years"—from Tokyo, Busan, Taipei, Bangkok, small mountain villages in Myanmar, abandoned temples in Vietnam, even the Siberian border.

This is NOT just a superhero. This is something else.

Let’s begin:

 [Post #1 — Taipei | @sunghost88]
There’s a shrine in a back alley here with no name on it.
Runes drawn in charcoal that, somehow, don't fade.
People on the street say he came during the fire that took the red light district two years ago. Saved a lot of  street children and corner girls then, somehow none of them got hurt badly.
After that, they built him a shrine.
Every incense stick burns down completely—even when the wind howls.

 [Post #2 — Seoul | @girlonfire2001]
When I was seventeen, I was followed after a party.
It got bad. Really bad. I couldn’t scream.
But then something shifted in the alley, and from the shadows I saw him.
He didn’t even touch that monster and he went down.
He waited for the police with me. Gwidam saved me

 [Post #3 — Bangkok | @midnightmandala]
We call him “Phi Rim” here. It means the edge-spirit.
People say he walks the edge of dreams.
There’s this boy of shadows who shows up when the dream goes wrong. He stands at the foot of your bed, touches your forehead, and the nightmare bleeds out of you. 

People who saw Gwidam personally can attest it is the same person, the guardian from the dreams.

 He saved my sister.
My mother keeps rice out for him. Just in case he ever comes hungry.

 [Post #4 — Tokyo, translated from Japanese | @shadowsonpaper]
A gang in Kabukichō disappeared in one night.
The Yakuza says they were cursed. No signs of struggle. Only shadows on the wall, burned into the concrete.
Someone said they hurt a child. Badlly.
Then Gwidam came.
The CCTV footage was corrupted—static and symbols no one could decipher.

 [Post #5 — Anonymous Criminal Forum]
DO NOT go to Busan after dark if you have bad intentions— he’ll know .
He's a curse .
You don’t see him.
You feel him. Like being stared at from inside your chest.
Like your blood remembers something your brain forgot.

 [Post #6 — Village near Luang Prabang | @ancestorwind]
Last year my baby brother was dying. Fever that wouldn’t break. No doctor could reach us in time.
But he came. Gwidam.
He didn’t knock. Just walked in and placed his hand on the child’s forehead.
He whispered something in a language I didn’t know.
There was light. And smoke.
When he left, the fever was gone.
Mama calls him “the Moon’s Son.”
I think he left a piece of his magic in our house. No one manages to hurt us there.

 [Post #7 — Manila | @stormchalk]
People think he’s scary. But kids?
They love him.
They say he has sweets in his pockets. That if you’re lost, and you whisper into a shadow, Gwidam will come. He protects them fiercely.
One kid drew a picture of him in the class I teach. When asked why, she said:
“Because he helped me bury my dog. And he stayed until I stopped crying.”

 [Post #8 — Hong Kong | @runenoir]
One night, someone drew Gwidam on the side of an old theater—chalk runes, silver thread, eyes in gold ink.
No one erased it.
People leave coins under it now. Wishes. Confessions.
He’s not just a vigilante. He’s a reckoning.
The kind of justice that doesn’t care about headlines.

 [Post #9 — Seoul, translated | @echopinesoul]
There’s a theory that Gwidam died once. That he was human. But came back with something ancient stitched into him.
Not magic. Not divine. Just… purpose.
He doesn’t run. Doesn’t falter.
We don’t worship him.
We remember him as a friend.

 [Post #10 – Jeju Island, South Korea | @windsteps_lee]
In Jeju, we don’t say “Gwidam.”
We say “Chagwi-sani” — The Quiet Man of the Ridge.
They say if you leave your window open when you're crying, he’ll visit your dreams and take the sadness out through your fingertips.
My mom said she saw him once, that he saved her from herself, didn’t tell me how. She still leaves warm milk by the threshold every year on the same night. No one touches it.
In the morning, it’s always gone.

 [Post #11 – Hanoi, Vietnam | @burninglotus]
Here, we call him “Thầy Bóng” —the Shadow Monk.
My cousin was possessed after a ritual gone wrong. Nothing worked.
Until he came. 

 He didn’t chant. Didn’t fight. Just looked at the spirit and it left.
Grandma still prays for him. Says he’s one of the “returning ones.”

 [Post #12 – Malaysia | @mythdripmalay]
In our district, we call him Anak Malam — the Night Child.
He’s the wind that opens the door.
After a landslide last year destroyed a lot of our homes, Gwidam came. He helped dig through the rubble with bare hands.
He pulled out a child who was still breathing. She said she called for him.
My village repainted the well and put his symbol on it. They think it brings protection.
I think he just comes when you need him . No matter how deep you’re buried.

[Post #13 – Tibetan Plateau | @ashes_of_bone]
They call him “Zin-Khé” here. The One Who Forgets.
He walks through high places where no path leads, and sleeps where the wind has no name.
Monks say he is not fully human. That the gods rejected him for being too compassionate.
That’s why he came to us.
There is a prayer, now, only whispered before death:
“If Zin-Khé walks my dream, let my burden pass into his shadow.”

He comes and guides you to a better place.

 [Post #14 – Osaka, Japan | @paperonwind]
We don’t know what to call him here, but kids draw him constantly.
He’s in school sketches, in comics, even in chalk on playgrounds.
They say he comes when someone is hurting so quietly even their parents can’t hear.

Kids in bad homes love him the most.
One girl in my school drew him with wings made of kanji.
When I asked why, she said, “He gives you back your words when you’ve lost them.”
I cried.

 [Post #15 – Inner Mongolia | @whisperdrum]
They call him “Hun Shadar” — The Soul’s Shadow.
He doesn’t walk. He rides the wind.
He comes when you dream of falling and wake with tears.
I saw him once—between sleep and waking.
I asked if I was dying.
He said: “No. You’re just lost.”
He pointed east.
That morning, I packed my things and left my abuser.
I don’t know if it was a dream or not.
But every time I doubt myself, I whisper:
Hun Shadar knows where I’m going.
And keep walking.

 [Post #16 – Busan, Korea | @midnight_auntie]
My niece draws him every day. Calls him “Oppa Gwidam.”
She was in a coma for a week.
She woke up saying he held her hand the whole time.
She told me, “He told me to wake up when I’m ready.”

 @LanternsFade (Closing Post)
People argue whether Gwidam is a god, a ghost, a cursed boy, a meta with no control, or Constantine’s “feral child.”
But the truth is simpler, and stranger.
He’s all of them.
And none.
He’s a prayer spoken by the desperate.
A curse feared by the wicked.
A shadow that does not disappear in light .
And for three years, he walked alone—protecting people who didn’t know his name, only the weight of his presence.

---

The screen glowed pale in the otherwise dark room. Constantine sat hunched in his chair, coat draped over the back, shirt sleeves rolled up, cigarette forgotten between two fingers.

He hadn’t meant to read the damn thing.

It started with one tagged mention.
Then two.
Then a dozen.
Then a whole thread of people calling Gwidam by names he'd never heard—names from rituals, villages, languages that hadn't touched a Justice League file in years. Names layered in reverence and fear.

He scrolled.

"Zin-Khé."
"Anak Malam."
"Thầy Bóng."
"Hun Shadar."

He muttered each aloud, almost like incantations.

John's jaw clenched tighter with every line.
Stories of survivors. Ghosts. Dreams.
Of people praying into the void and being heard.

He read the one from the girl who had nearly died. The one who said she thought he’d understood her pain because he carried it too.

He dragged a hand down his face, mouth pressed into a hard line.
"Bloody hell, kid…"

Because months ago—hell, years ago now—he’d told him not to answer prayers.
That doing so marked you.
Gwidam hadn’t started answering recently, it has been at least three years.
Even when he didn’t know he was doing it.
Even when it was just instincts—the pull, the inexplicable urge to go where no beacon called him.
He had always gone.
Always answered. Even in dreams.

John leaned back in his chair, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling, the cigarette finally lit.
“…You little idiot,” he muttered, voice thick. “You’ve been a bleeding patron saint this whole time.”

The posts blurred for a second—eyes burning, maybe from the smoke, maybe not.

And damn it all if he didn’t feel proud. Afraid too, of course. But proud.

Because while the League debated about power levels and containment protocols, and the magical elite whispered about “what Gwidam might become,”
He had become a protector. A myth.

A shadow-wrapped saint, walking roads no hero had tread in decades.
And he wasn’t doing it for glory.
He did it because those people needed protection, to be saved.

Notes:

Tae-min said he wasn't answering prayers, he didn't say anything about Gwidam.
This kid is hopeless.
Tae-min, the idol: fans as workshippers, people from Gotham who knows him as the ghost child.
Gwidam, the hero: People he saved. There are A LOT of them.

 

Guys, a friend pointed out that Kon-el and Tae-min are in love.
I, as the author: Pikachu shocked face.

Chapter 25: They act just like us

Summary:

If you asked Kon-El how life was going lately, he’d probably shrug and say:
“Pretty freaking great, actually.”

Notes:

Kon-el wants his fake husband to be a real husband

If you asked Kon-El how life was going lately, he’d probably shrug and say:
“Pretty freaking great, actually.”

No interdimensional crises. No evil clones from the future. The Young Justice group chat hadn’t blown up with all-caps emergencies in over two weeks.

As the hero Supernova, he was grateful for the stillness. Since the day he woke up in that lab, everything had felt like a sprint, fighting, surviving, trying to prove he was worthy of the name he was given. Always trying to live up to a legacy he didn’t ask for.

Now, for the first time, he wasn’t trying to prove anything.
He was just living. Helping when he could. Loving the people he chose.

As Conner Kent, he was learning how to breathe again. He went to university. He shared study notes with Cassie during Modern Political History, swapped snacks during lectures, and drew dumb cartoons of their professors in the margins of his notebook

Life, for once, had rhythm.

 And most importantly: Tae-min was safe.
And, somehow, thriving.

Now that he wasn’t afraid of breaking anymore, he was,  unsurprisingly, testing himself. Kon wasn’t even shocked at how fast he gained control. Tae-min had always been ruthlessly efficient when helping Kon through his own powers in the beginning. With all the compassion of a chainsaw surgeon, but effective.

They knew he would never let anything control him.  Maybe they knew it better than he did.

Even if there were… shifts.
Eyes glowing faint gold. Runes flickering beneath his sleeves like something alive. His presence would feel different. Older.  Heavier. Like the gravity in the room recalibrated itself around him.

The others had noticed too.
The League didn’t talk about it, but Kon saw it in the way some of them flinched when Tae-min entered the room in mission debriefs.
The way Green Lantern subtly adjusted his ring.
Clark watching too long, too carefully.

A ripple of discomfort. Or awe. Or both.

Because they didn’t understand him anymore.
Because he was powerful now, and power scared people, especially when it wore a too-young face.

But Kon didn’t flinch. Neither did Cassie. Or Bart.

Because they knew him.
The boy who stayed up all night learning Kryptonian grammar so he could help Kon feel less alone. The one who helped Cassie rein in her divine temper, and took care of Bart like a parent, even if he was just a kid too.
Tae had always held them together. Now that he was strong enough to never be broken again, they only felt relief. They had almost lost him too many times. Anything that made him harder to take from them was good.

The League could flinch all they wanted.

---

After the Divine Comeback (yes, the fandom named it that, yes, Kon follows the fan accounts, shut up), Tae-min… glowed differently.

Peacefully.

Still deadly, sure. But he smiled more. Ate full meals. Laughed with his whole face. It was such a good thing to see that Kon couldn’t go a week without finding an excuse to go to Korea. Sometimes he would ‘kidnap’ him to Kansas when he was working too much, with Cass’ blessing.

Ma loved hugging him. Pa called him ‘little musician’. Lois gave him a leather-bound notebook and whispered, “Write your own story first,” and he was over the moon for days.

Clark would come more often too. They were… okay now. He asked about Tae-min’s training, asked Kon if he was eating enough, and gave him awkward half-claps on the back, beaming, suspiciously smug watching them.

Jon thought Tae-min was the coolest person alive.
Once, Tae-min helped him with math homework and then summoned glowing fireflies to explain equations visually, and Jon told him, with tearful sincerity, “I would die for you.”

His puppy crush was a little funny. Such a dork kid. 

---

One night at the farm, where Tae-min was helping Ma make pie, he said “They want you to come to the eclipse game’s night.”
“You mean me as Supernova?”
Tae looked confused. “No. You. As in the person I’ve been spending time with.”
“…That’s somehow scarier.”

He knew Seojin already, pure chaos, probably friends with Bart on some astral level. And Jiho was a total sweetheart, a lot like Jon. Kwan acted like a parent and Min-jae was really cool.
He had already met all of them in the hospital, but not them together and not as Conner Kent, the boy from Kansas.

But nothing prepared him for Kwan and Min-jae around each other.

They were stars in orbit, always close, always burning. They shared food, words, glances. One moved, the other followed. They were terrifying and hilarious and completely in sync.

Kon leaned in during one of their breaks, whispering to Tae-min, “So what’s their deal?”

Tae-min blinked at him. “They’re in love.”

Kon short-circuited. “Wait. What?”

Tae-min laughed. Loud and unfiltered. He looked like light.

“They’re not even subtle. Kwan literally wears Min-jae’s bracelet on stage. The company knows they’re together.”

“…They act just like us.” Kon muttered.

That stopped Tae for a beat.
His voice turned soft. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess they do.”

---

Days later, Kon still couldn’t shake it.

Tae-min had been the first face he ever saw. The first voice that said he was real. The first hand that reached for him without fear. He’d looked at him like he mattered. Not what he was made from.

They’d been through everything together. They'd touched every version of pain, come back from things that should've broken them.  Some of it still did. 

People always said Young Justice was codependent. Unhealthily so.
Maybe they were right. They were kids left alone with too much power and too little guidance. And among all their chaos, Tae was their moral compass. Their axis. The reason they didn’t spiral off into the dark when everything else went to hell. It wasn’t even an exaggeration. The evil Batman had proved it in that nightmare timeline: they followed Tae-min. Always.

Kon would follow him across galaxies. Into battle.
Down aisles, apparently.

He groaned aloud at the memory.

They’d married, for fuck’s sake.
Sure, it had been temporary. A political stunt to save a crumbling world that only recognized sacred bonds.
But still, vows were spoken, and Tae-min had looked at him like. Like he meant it.

Kon rubbed his face with both hands and flopped back on the couch with a dramatic sigh. 

From the kitchen, a spoon clinked against ceramic.

“What’s got you so frustrated?” Ma asked, peeking around the corner with one eyebrow raised.

“Tae-min,” Kon muttered.

The sound of stirring paused.
A beat.

Then Ma slowly walked in, towel over one shoulder, a quiet concern threading through her posture.

She knew. She always did. He hadn’t said anything, but he could feel her reading it in him like a page already halfway turned.

“How so?” she asked gently, folding her arms.

Kon stared at the ceiling for a long moment. The silence stretched, tight and tender.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “He’s just… Things are kind of complicated right now.”

Ma walked over, sat beside him, silent for a while.
Her presence was grounding, like always.

“You’re scared,” she said simply.

Kon blinked.

“I’m not scared of him. ”

“I didn’t say you were.”  Her voice was gentle, but steady. “You’re scared of losing him to all of this—”

“Maybe, yeah,” he whispered.  Even if it wasn’t exactly what he’d meant.  But it wasn’t untrue either. He wouldn’t let something like this take Tae-min from him.

“—of the world not making space for the kind of love you carry.”

That made him pause. His throat closed up.

“Love?”

Ma looked at him like he’d just asked what 2+2 was.  That look of: Oh, honey.

Maybe he was stupid.

She reached over, took his hand, and gave it a squeeze. Her palm was warm, steady, grounding.

“Silly boy,” she said. “If the world didn’t make space for you, carve it.”

Kon realized then the root of all his frustration.

He didn’t want the marriage to be temporary. 

---

When he heard his name, he was at the farm.

It came like a whisper—soft, steady. Familiar.

Kon’s heart still lurched in his chest like it always did when Tae-min called. That name had weight. It always had. And Kon never ignored it.

He didn’t hesitate. Dropped the wrench, left the tractor half-disassembled, and vanished into the wind with nothing but a promise echoing in his mind:

“If you ever call for me, I’ll come. Always.”

His heartbeat didn’t lead him to Tae bleeding out in an alley or unraveling under a spell gone wrong. Not this time.

He was at the old hideout in France, the one his mother left behind, now warded to hell and back. A sanctuary. A breath between storms.

Kon landed with barely a sound, his boots scuffing soft stone as the ancient magic shimmered around him, recognizing him. Accepting him. Letting him pass like he belonged.

Inside, the silence didn’t feel empty. It felt sacred.

The house smelled faintly of fresh tea and ŵleather bindings. The magic around it pulsed in a slow, steady rhythm, like it was breathing. Alive. Holding space.

He found Tae-min in the sitting room, curled into one of the oversized armchairs like he was part of the light filtering through the open windows.

He was tucked against the cushions, legs folded under him, half-buried in old books and parts of Gwidan’s armory laid out across the table in quiet reverence. Enchanted metal glinted gold and obsidian in the light, humming faintly where it responded to him even in sleep.

He must’ve just returned from a mission, still in his louse black undershirt and combat trousers, gloves halfway off his fingers, like he hadn’t even bothered to undress before exhaustion swallowed him whole.

Kon stopped in the doorway for a moment. Just… watching.

Tae looked like he had melted into the space, like he belonged here more than anything else ever had. Pale skin kissed by sunlight. Runes flickering faintly beneath the edges of his undershirt, curling like whispered prayers around his collarbone. One hand still clutched a half-finished report. The other loosely held a delicate ring of light, probably a protective ward, half-cast before sleep took him.

Kon crouched beside the chair, but didn’t touch. Not yet.

He was a little miffed, honestly. Tae-min never slept deeply. Usually, he sensed him before Kon even landed. Always two steps ahead. Always alert.

He leaned in to see if he was okay, eyes tracing the slow rise and fall of Tae-min’s chest. His breath was steady, calm. His hair was wild and mussed from wind and sleep, white strands catching the light like they were spun from moonlight.

There was tension still curled in his shoulders, like his magic hadn’t quite powered down. And whatever he was dreaming, his nose scrunched up slightly, lips pursed in that tiny, irritated pout he always made when someone contradicted him.

Kon smiled.

Even more when he noticed the faint freckles across Tae’s nose, almost imperceptible except now, in the warm glow of afternoon light, they shimmered faintly. Little stars mapped across skin he wanted to memorize.

He looked soft like this. So much human, but still divine. Old and so painfully young. A contradiction. A paradox.

And Kon… Kon wanted to trace the glow on his skin with his fingers. To feel the heat he knew lived just under the surface.

Tae-min stirred with a small sigh, eyes fluttering in sleep, his expression easing into contentment. Still not fully awake. His mouth opened, soft and vulnerable.

Yearning.

“Kon...”

Oh.

So it was what he’d heard. A dream.

“He’s calling me in his dreams,” Kon murmured to himself, voice rough with wonder.

His name sounded different when Tae said it. Like home. Like safety. 

Kon smiled. A small, private thing meant only for the boy beside him. Something that bloomed quietly in his chest and made breathing feel like more than survival. He stayed where he was for a while, kneeling beside the chair like it was an altar. Watching the runes along Tae’s arm dim to a soft pulse, like breathing.

He reached for the blanket draped over the couch and tucked it around Tae-min’s shoulders, fingers lingering just a little longer than they needed to.

He didn’t know what to call this feeling.

It felt too big for words.
Too quiet for declarations.
Too sacred for jokes.

He reached out, fingers barely brushing along Tae-min’s temple, featherlight. Like he was afraid he might wake him. Or worse, break him.

But Tae leaned into the touch, even in sleep. Just a little. Just enough.

Kon exhaled slowly, quietly. Let his hand fall back onto the blanket, brushing Tae’s wrist. His skin was warm. Familiar. Real.

Ma had been right.

He would carve the space for this feeling in the world. No matter what it took. Just like Tae-min had carved his space into Kon’s heart. And made a home there.

---

The scent of tea woke him. It wasn’t sharp or floral, more earthy, rich. Rooibos, maybe, with a hint of something herbal and slightly burnt.

Tae-min blinked his eyes open slowly, the room around him still drowsy with morning light. 

From the hallway, a soft clatter echoed, ceramic against stone. A curse, muffled but unmistakably Kon.

He smiled.

Dragging himself out of the arm chair he was napping, Tae-min padded barefoot down the hall and into the kitchen. His shirt hung loose on him, and his hair was a silver-soft mess, sticking up from sleep.

In the kitchen, Kon stood by the ancient stove, frowning intently at a stubborn tea kettle like it had personally offended him.

A drip of something brownish-red trickled down the side of a mug. The other was still empty.

“You’re not supposed to boil it dry, ” Tae-min murmured, voice still husky with sleep.

Kon startled and spun toward him, caught in the act, a spoon clutched awkwardly in one hand.

“You’re awake, ” he said, too loudly. “And look, it’s fine. The water’s mostly there. It’s just... flavored now.”

Tae-min blinked at him and smiled, slow and soft. “You tried to make me tea.”

“It was going great until the kettle betrayed me.”

He set the spoon down with an exaggerated sigh, then turned to face Tae-min fully.

“How didn’t you wake up when I got here?” he asked, voice gentler now.

Tae-min tilted his head, brows lifting slightly. His eyes were still soft with sleep. “Because it was you,” he said simply. “I could feel you. I knew I was safe.”

Kon’s grin softened into something quiet and unbearably fond.

“So you trusted your husband that much, huh?”

The word hung between them like a bell rung in a cathedral. Tae-min blinked once. His ears flushed red, and beneath the loose cuffs of his sleeves, his runes began to glow faintly, gold and flickering.

“You’re glowing,” Kon said, practically delighted. “Oh my god. You’re blushing with runes.”

“Shut up,” Tae-min muttered, tugging his sleeves down, but Kon was already laughing, stepping forward to wrap him in a warm, grounding hug.

“I’m sorry,” Kon said into his hair. “You’re just… you’re so adorable. I can’t not say anything.”

Tae-min buried his face in Kon’s shoulder with a groan. “This is bullying.”

“Sorry, love,” Kon murmured, and the word slipped out so easily, so instinctively, that neither of them had time to stop it.

Tae-min went still in his arms. His fingers curled, slowly, into Kon’s shirt. He pulled back a little, looking up, his expression unreadable.

“Something changed,” he said softly, searching Kon’s face.

Kon hesitated, rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “I guess it did.”

He almost forgot Tae-min could sense emotions now, feel them radiating off people like weather. There was no hiding.

But he didn’t want to hide. Not from him.

“I’m just… happy,” he said. “To have this. You here. Me here. Making terrible tea. Together. It makes me happy.”

Tae-min stared at him, wide-eyed, something like awe rising in his chest. His glow intensified, golden light trailing faintly from his fingers. His ears flushed deeper red.

“You want to do this more often?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. It carried something raw. Hope, uncertainty. Like he didn’t know if the answer might shatter him.

Kon nodded, reaching up to tuck a piece of silver hair behind Tae-min’s ear. His touch lingered.

“Yeah,” he said. “Every day.  If it’s with you.”

Kon looked at him and the words he needed to say clung to the back of his throat, sharp with fear. He wanted Kon to understand. But emotions were messy things, and Tae-min had never trusted his voice with fragile truths. Not like this.

So he reached instead.

He stepped in close, slow and sure, until only inches remained. Kon blinked, surprised, but didn’t move away. Tae-min raised a hand, warm and steady, and let his fingers skim over Kon’s cheek, down the line of his jaw. Then he pressed their foreheads together.

The magic came quietly.

It pulsed between them, gentle, golden, intimate. A whisper without sound. His runes glowed softly along his skin, spreading warmth that bled into Kon like light through stained glass. Not words. Not thoughts. Feelings.

He showed him and Kon gasped softly. His breath caught as the magic opened something wide and wordless inside him. His eyes shimmered. Wet.

He didn’t say anything for a moment.

Couldn’t.

Then, voice cracking just slightly, he whispered, “Is this… is this how you feel?”

Tae-min pulled back half an inch to look at him, face flushed, lashes trembling. The glow of the runes along his throat and fingers pulsed brighter, traitorous, obvious.

Kon let out a choked laugh. “You’re glowing again.”

“I can’t help it,” Tae-min muttered, flustered, “they do that when I—feel too much.”

Kon cupped his face, thumbing one of the runes with awe. “It’s not too much,” he echoed, breathless. “It’s everything.”

Tae-min blinked, startled. 

Kon leaned in, eyes soft and overwhelmed, and pressed a kiss to his forehead and whispered: “I’ll make better tea next time.”

 Tae-min laughed into his shoulder, breathless and giddy.

Outside, the lavender kept swaying in the wind.

This house, this quiet sanctuary stitched together by two women who believed in love as rebellion, held them in its silence.

It had always been meant for a love like this.
And now, it had found it.

Notes:

The company having a field day with the eclipse boys and their love life.
Superman IS smug, because he knew it.
Kon is approved by: Cass, Shiva, Constantine, Diana, Kwan/Min-jae.
All for different reasons, the funniest is Shiva: he can kill for my child.
Kwan and Min-jae being the reason Kon finally realize he is in love with his best friend because they're as codependent as them.
Someone comment about people realizing that Gwidam is Red Robin, have this little piece a deleted from the chapter:

[REPLY @gothamknowsbest]
Y’all are so behind. Everyone in Gotham already figured it out.
No, we don’t know who he is.
But Gwidam moves like a Bat. Disappears like a Bat. Fights like a Bat. And Orphan trusts him.
You connect the dots.

[TUMBLR POST @emotionallyruined]
“What about Red Robin?”
BRO. BRO. LISTEN.
Gotham is laughing at us right now.
Who other bat was as spookie as Orphan?

 

Gotham know well their birds.

Chapter 26: Their mirror

Notes:

Let's think why Tae-min's powers sound so familiar.
Or
When a little quasi-mortal catch the eye of powerfull beings.

She met him when he was two years old—but only noticed him at seven.

There had been something odd about the toddler in the circus—the way his eyes lingered too long on the still bodies of the Graysons, unblinking, too solemn for someone so small. The way he looked at her , not directly, but with a shiver of knowing. Kids always saw more than adults. They saw too much.

But back then, it was just a flicker. A ripple. A soft note of something unusual in the song of the world.

It wasn’t until the alley in Gotham that she truly saw him.

The sky was choked with smoke, the air thick with oil and grief so old it had teeth. He was so young. Just seven. So painfully small. A child who should’ve been dreaming of stars or superheroes, of birthday candles or warmth.

But instead, he was crouched in the filth, holding an old man’s hand as life drained out of him—quietly, steadily, like water slipping between fingers.

The man had called for help. And the boy had come—from a rooftop, like something summoned by faith itself. Not to save him—he had been too late for that—but simply to stay .

He sat cross-legged in the cold, his clothes warm but eyes hollow. He spoke softly of birds, of music, of a summer breeze the man could no longer feel. Told him he wouldn’t be alone. That it wouldn’t hurt. That someone kind would be there to meet him.

The old man had looked at him with something like awe. And when the end came, it was quiet. It was peaceful . He passed into her arms like a whisper on wind.

She sat beside the boy, unseen, as she always did when it mattered. She didn’t reach out. Didn’t breathe a word. But she felt him feel her. A tremor in the skin. A flicker of breath caught in the throat. A shiver that didn’t come from the cold.

But he didn’t turn.

“You stayed,” she whispered anyway. “That’s the kindest thing you could’ve done.”

She saw him again. And again. And again.

Because he was always near death— Like a flame that flickered where others would flee. He moved through the world like a prayer being answered. The city magic was on him, changing him slowly.

He knew her presence the way one knows a draft in a warm room. Uninvited, but familiar. A shadow that lingered even when the lights came back on.

But he never looked at her.

Not until he was fifteen. Bleeding out beneath a sky in a desert. Magic pulsed too wild beneath his skin. The kind of magic that kills gods. She came, as she always did, quiet and sure.

She took two of his friends with her that day—people hardened by life, worn to the bone. But their last thoughts had been of him . Of the boy too young to die like this.

And then he turned. Finally .

He met her gaze, pale and shaking, delirious from blood loss.

“I see you,” he said, as though confessing a sin. “Not yet,” he added, a plea wrapped in resolve. “I’m not done yet. Please. I need to save Dad.”

She smiled, and there was sadness in it.

“No,” she agreed gently. “Not yet.”

She loved him, she realized.

But to be loved by an Endless is more a curse than a comfort.

She was not the only one who noticed.

---

Dream told her later, in the quiet place where only truths are exchanged, that he had watched the boy for years.

He called him little echo .

“He walks the Dreaming too deliberately,” Dream said, his voice soft, thoughtful. “As if he’s been here before. As if he belongs .”

He wandered through others’ dreams like a stray note in a forgotten song—unsettling, beautiful, necessary. A tether in other people’s nightmares. A comfort in dreams not his own.

The little one was a dreamwalker.

As he grew, his lucidity sharpened. He began to remember pieces of the Dreaming. Symbols. Threads. Stories that hadn’t happened yet. A weaver, Dream said. By instinct, not training.

Dream stood at a distance, watching. Sometimes, the boy would pause, gaze toward the space beyond the veil, as if he sensed something ancient watching him.

But he never reached out.

So Dream let him be.

---

Despair noticed him too.

She told Death that she found the boy in silence.

Not the operatic despair she so often drew. Not the messy kind. No.

He was quiet . The dull ache of someone trying not to shatter. The quiet gasp of a soul being stretched too thin.

She felt him strongest in Ra’s al Ghul’s sanctuaries. In the bruises he didn’t voice. In the nights when sleep came only from exhaustion, not peace. In the lingering touch of monsters who called themselves mentors.

“He breaks inward,” she murmured once. “Not loudly. Not visibly. Just… vanishes.”

She pressed her hand to a mirror once, watching as he sat trembling in a pink bathwater stained red. Skin raw. Ribs cracked. Eyes blank.

Death’s favorite.

She didn’t want him to shatter.

“You will survive,” Despair said—an order more than a hope.

He flinched. Just slightly.

Then, against every odd, he stood.

That’s when she knew: he was dangerous.

Because he moved forward without hope.

---

Desire was delighted.

At first, it was curiosity—who was this mortal child who drew their siblings like moths?

Then they saw him. On stage. In shadow. In silk and smoke. A little god, half-formed and aching. A vessel of hunger and restraint so taut it felt divine.

Desire loved the almost of him. The way he contained things. The way he carried longing like a flame cupped between trembling hands.

“What are you really, little light?” they whispered into the void between stars.

And for once, they didn’t want to claim.

They wanted to watch .

---

Delirium adored him.

She called him maybe-boy . Not-yet-star . The thought that forgot to be forgotten .

He was loud inside. Screaming colors. Sentences made of birdsong. Realities stacked on top of each other like children's blocks. Too much, and not enough. All at once.

When he broke, he spoke to her. Not on purpose. Not fully.

But she heard.

“I think I’m not real,” he whispered once, bleeding under a moon that blinked like a tired god.

Delirium hung upside-down in the wind and smiled.

“You’re too real,” she said, made of paint and smoke. “That’s the problem.”

---

Destruction felt him.

Like a tremor before a collapse.

Like a melody unfinished. A threshold between creation and undoing.

“He’s a hinge,” he told Death once. “Between what is and what shouldn’t be.”

He watched the boy choose , again and again, not to destroy. To preserve. To save. And that— that —was terrifying.

“What do we do?” she asked.

Destruction only smiled, soft and sad.

“We wait.”

---

Destiny’s book faltered.

The boy’s page was inkless.

Unreadable.

“Not in the weave,” Destiny said. “Not anymore.”

A variable. A breaker of fate. A soft, strange noise in the rhythm of the world that rewrote the tempo. He wasn’t meant to live this long. Wasn’t meant to matter .

But he did.

He bent things.

He warped prophecy with kindness, with madness, with pain held tightly between his teeth.

---

And so she watched.

Her little shadow. The boy who answered prayers not meant for mortals. Who felt them all—every Endless, even when he didn't want to. Who held kindness like a blade, wielding it even when it cost him.

Even before they noticed him, he was becoming.

They left him gifts—accidentally, cosmically. A ribbon of thread. A key. A shimmer in a dream. A fish in a coat pocket. A name.

He became a mirror.

To those who knew what to see, he shimmered with pieces of them. He could create; he could destroy. He could save those who could be Saved and bent fate and reality. He could cause fear and desire. He was a spark of them.

A doorway, Delirium had whispered.

A threshold, Destruction confirmed.

A variable, Destiny warned.

She called him kind.

And like always, kindness has a cost.

She would be there at the end.

But not yet.

Never yet.

And for that—

She was grateful.

 

Notes:

Constantine later asking himself why no entity came after Tae-mim yet.
His wards must be that good.
Tae-min being a favourite of most of the Endless, so much that they let part of themselves in him, make them a little reluctant, John.
Tae-min having strange dreams, hearing voices and seeing glimpses of strange people all his life: must be Gotham's tap water.

Also, he had no idea of how powerfulll he really is.

Chapter 27: You called

Summary:

Damian is here
Tae-min is Luna Lovegood for a night

Notes:

Because someone asked 'where is Damian?"
I'll give you one more: "How is Damian?"

Damian hadn’t meant it.

He was just walking patrol. Alone. The streets of Gotham were quiet, wrapped in that tense stillness that came before a storm. His ears still rang—a harsh echo from the shouting match with Bruce earlier that day. It had been a bad one. Cold, clipped words. Silence sharper than knives.

Dick hadn’t come back to Gotham in weeks, not since his own fallout with their father. Duke was away on a mission with Jason. The house had felt heavier every day since. Too large. Too empty. And Damian, for all his fire, had no one to aim it at anymore. No one left to spar with but ghosts.

So he walked.

Then, in a narrow alley between an abandoned florist and a shuttered deli, he found it—a kitten. Tiny. Trembling. Barely alive. Its ribcage moved with shallow effort, one paw crushed beneath it, blood darkening the concrete.

Something in Damian cracked.

He dropped to his knees. His hands shook as he tried to touch without hurting. It wasn’t just the kitten. It was everything: the arguments, the guilt, the weight of the cowl and the silence of the Nest that wasn’t really his. That had once belonged to someone else.

He looked at the kitten and thought: I’m just like you. No one hears us until it’s too late.

He pressed his hand to its side, helpless. The tremor in his chest turned into a whisper.

“Please.” His voice was barely audible. “Please don’t let them die.”

And the shadows answered.

Tae-min appeared like a dream unraveling—barefoot, dressed in soft sleep clothes, silver hair mussed with sleep and haloed in faint magic. He walked out of the darkness as if it had birthed him, calm and glowing with golden light.

He crouched beside Damian, eyes soft and faraway, like he was seeing things no one else could. His fingers hovered over the kitten’s body, light spiraling from his skin like threads of fireflies.

Damian’s breath caught in his throat. “You—how…?”

“The shadows brought me,” Tae-min murmured, blinking slowly. “You prayed. I heard it. You used to pray more when you were little.”

His eyes didn’t quite focus. His words floated, soft and strange—stars and wolves, sky stitches and lullabies half-sung. He didn’t seem fully there.

“You called,” he said again, stroking the kitten’s head. “You always call when it hurts too much.”

There was something wrong with him. Off-center. Dreamy. He tilted his head in a way that was too much, his smile a touch too wide, like he was listening to music no one else could hear.

“I didn’t mean to call you,” Damian muttered.

“But you did.” Tae-min smiled faintly. “And I always come when my little brothers pray for me.”

Damian’s hands curled into fists.

He knew about his powers and new status. Everyone in the hero community knew. Father kept a large file on him—meticulously updated, of course. But it seemed he wasn’t as thorough as he thought.

“How did you even get here? You were in Seoul.”

He knew it. He made it his business to know where his family was all the time. His father’s son.

“The shadows know the way,” Tae-min said, lifting the kitten with gentle hands. “You were loud tonight. Sad. And kind. It echoed. I couldn’t not answer.”

Damian’s brow furrowed. “Where’s the clone?”

“Off-world,” Tae-min whispered. “He’s with the stars. Too far to hear.”

There was a weight to his voice, something aching beneath the quiet. Damian swallowed hard. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

Tae-min blinked, still cradling the kitten. “Sometimes… belief shifts me. People imagine me too many ways. It pulls me apart. But it fades.”

Damian nodded slowly and tapped his comm. “I’m taking you to the Nest.”

Tae-min tilted his head again, this time with something like fondness. His feet splashed in a puddle as he stepped closer. Side by side, Damian realized that he was taller than Tae-min now. Something in him was both more fragile and more powerful than before.

“The Nest. Our nest now, little Robin.”

The Nest had once been Tae-min’s sanctuary. A place filled with quiet and forgotten things. Now it was Damian’s retreat—the only place in Gotham that didn’t feel like a battleground.

They walked through back alleys, past flickering streetlamps and leaking pipes. Tae-min hummed a lullaby as they went, one that pulled at Damian’s memory—something from the Manor, long ago.

A child peeked from behind a dumpster and whispered, “Is that… him?”

Tae-min stopped. Crouched. Opened his arms.

Three children ran to him without hesitation. He knelt in the wet, barefoot, whispering about foxes and trains that ran at midnight. The children clung to him like gravity, and Damian watched silently, unsure what to feel.

More came. A homeless man gave him a wilted flower. A woman kissed his temple and whispered something in a language he didn’t quite get. They called him our ghost , and asked Robin to protect him.

Damian didn’t speak. Just walked beside him. Guarded. Watching.

In the Nest, Tae-min placed the kitten in a box layered with towels. His fingers shimmered as he whispered a spell to ease the pain and coax the little heart to rest.

Then he turned, wordless, and pressed his hand to Damian’s side. The bruises from earlier melted under a flush of gold.

Damian, quietly, knelt and began cleaning the blood from Tae-min’s feet. Warm water. A clean cloth. The hum of healing spells lingering in the air.

Like always, he would take care of anyone but himself.

He called Cass. Told her softly that Tae-min was with him. She didn’t ask anything. Just said, “Good. Keep him warm. Someone will come soon.”

Has it happened before? he wondered. Has brother been disappearing in the middle of the night, acting like a madman?

He looked at Tae-min again—powerful but vulnerable. Soft and burning. A being made of contradictions. It made Damian shiver to think someone might take advantage of that.

Tae-min leaned against him then. Sleepy. Strange. Comforting.

“You’re sad,” he murmured.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re always sad when he yells,” Tae-min whispered. “And Dick not coming back made it worse. You feel like everyone left.”

Damian looked away. He always knew too much—but now it was worse.

“Dick sees you as his kid,” Tae-min said. “More than Bruce ever did. He’d come home if you called. You just haven’t.”

Tae-min’s voice sharpened slightly. Just a little closer to real.

“Stay with him a while, if you need to.”

“I have patrols.”

“You’re more important. Don’t stay if it hurts. Don’t wait until you break.”

Damian turned, his voice quieter than he meant. “Is that what you did?”

Tae-min didn’t answer right away. Then nodded. “Yeah.”

Damian whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Tae-min smiled. “I know. I’ve known for a while.”

Outside, Gotham was quiet.
Inside, magic hummed.

“I’ve dreamed of you often. Was it real?”

Tae-min didn’t answer. He hummed again, the tune winding around them like fog. A haunting melody that made Damian’s limbs heavy with sleep.

“Sleep, little Robin,” Tae-min whispered, brushing a hand over his hair. “I’ll protect you in your dreams.”

---

He woke hours later to quiet voices near the door.

Constantine stood by the threshold, trench coat damp with Gotham fog, talking low with Batman.

“I told you,” Constantine said, “he’s walking the in-between too often. It’s starting to fray him.”

Bruce’s jaw was tight. “Is this happening often?”

“More than it should,” Constantine muttered, scratching his stubble. “He slips when he’s too close to the veil. When someone prays for him. It... answers. Whether he wants to or not. We are working on it.”

As if on cue, Tae-min stirred.

He blinked awake slowly, dazed. And then, without warning, stood and walked straight into Constantine’s arms, wrapping him in a sleepy hug.

The warlock stiffened, startled—but then he chuckled, voice surprising gentle. “Bloody hell. You look drunk on starlight, love.”

Tae-min mumbled something into his coat that sounded suspiciously like midnight trains don’t stop for ghosts .

Bruce stepped forward, but Tae-min turned to him. Clearer now. Just slightly.

“I’ll go back with him,” Tae-min said. “My Cass is waiting. I promised to always come home to her.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t soften, but something in his shoulders shifted. He looked tired. Haunted.

Tae-min hesitated.

“You promised to do better,” he said, quietly. “With him.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes.

“If you don’t,” Tae-min continued, “I’ll take him from you.”

There was no threat in his voice. Just truth. Cold, silver-edged, inevitable.

Bruce didn’t answer.

Tae-min stepped past him, barefoot still, the kitten tucked safely in his arms as Constantine opened a portal to take them home.

And just before he vanished, Tae-min turned once more.

“I meant it,” he said softly. “I always come when my little brothers pray for me.”

Then he was gone.

And Bruce was left standing in the silence, staring at the shadows that still shimmered faintly with gold.

By morning, social media buzzed:

[X - @gothamsightings]
ok but why was ECLIPSE’s tae-min barefoot in GOTHAM at MIDNIGHT sitting with ROBIN and PETTING A KITTEN??????

[Tumblr - waynemanortruths]
literally what do you mean tae-min was barefoot in gotham hugging children while robin stood awkwardly beside him?? is this a fanfic??

[Reddit - r/EclipseUpdates]
so...tae-min is in gotham now?? wasn’t he literally in seoul yesterday?? the man’s teleporting. someone check on robin tho fr he looked Concerned™

[Instagram - @gothamcityblues]
📸 spotted: tae-min aka Eclipse (???) in downtown gotham last night... barefoot, sleepwear, and carrying a kitten. robin was there. wtf is happening.

---

It was raining in Blüdhaven.

Damian stood by the window, watching the way the droplets streaked down the glass. Below, the city pulsed—louder than Gotham, but somehow less suffocating. Dick’s apartment smelled like coffee and lemon-scented soap. It was quiet, but not in the lonely way the Manor was. There were no ghosts here. Just the sound of Dick in the kitchen, humming tunelessly, burning something.

“I made grilled cheese,” Dick called, proud and hopeful.

“I can smell that you burned it,” Damian answered without turning.

There was laughter. Light, genuine. And when Damian finally stepped away from the window, there was Dick waiting, two plates in hand and too much food on each.

They sat on the couch. Ate in silence for a while.

And then Damian said, almost too softly, “He came when I prayed.”

Dick didn’t ask who. He didn’t need to.

“He said he’d always come if I prayed for him. That he always did. ” Damian stared down at his plate. “How many times did he come and I just… didn’t notice?”

Dick set his food aside and leaned forward.

Damian tried to contain the hurt in his chest, like he always did. He was strong, he didn’t need those feelings or anyone feeling sorry for him, but after last night it seemed that the hurt couldn’t be contained. In the morning he took the bus to Dick and didn’t look back. 

“I feel like I’m screaming and no one hears me,” Damian said. “I keep doing what’s expected. Patrols. Reports. Training. But I don’t know what it’s for anymore. No one needs me.”

Dick’s voice was gentle. “I need you.”

Damian looked up.

“I need you to be okay. I need you to be a person outside the mission. I need you to be happy .”

It shattered something in him.

He didn’t sob. Didn’t wail. Just silently cried. Silent tears that slid down his cheeks and dripped onto the plate in his lap.

Dick wrapped an arm around him and didn’t say a word.

They sat like that for a long time.

Outside, the rain kept falling.

---

Cass moved slowly through the apartment, barefoot on wooden floors. The air smelled like mint and incense, and the lights were off—just the pale glow of the moon pouring through the curtains.

Tae-min lay curled on the low couch, wrapped in a soft blanket. One hand hung limply over the edge, fingers twitching as if chasing dreams. The kitten he saved was nestled by his side, purring faintly.

Cass stood in the doorway for a moment, phone still in hand.

She’d just hung up with Kwan. His voice had cracked when she said, “He’s here.”

He didn’t ask questions. Just said, “Thank God. Thank you, Cass. I’m coming.”

Cass stepped forward. Lowered herself to the floor beside the couch and leaned her forehead against Tae-min’s side.

There was a lot she wanted to say, but words were still hard

You can’t keep doing this, she thought. You can’t keep tearing yourself apart to answer everyone else’s pain.

His breathing was steady, but his brow was furrowed even in sleep. A line of tension drawn between his eyebrows like he was still carrying a world he didn’t ask for.

“I’ll protect you,” she said, fiercely. “I’ll find a way.”

She pressed her hand lightly to his, careful not to wake him.

“Sister is here. Rest.”

She stayed like that for a long time.

Watching over him while the shadows flickered against the walls. Guarding her brother like she always had. Like she always would.

 

Notes:

Bruce and his problem in trying to help one kid without neglecting another.
Also, Dick and Cass and their elder sister syndrome phase. Their little brothers are hurting and they are trying to help, but one is a trained assassin since a baby and the other a new god with powers out of control.
Tae-min's powers sometimes are more like a curse, but he has people there for him.
Next chapter is Tae-min's Coming of Age Day.

Chapter 28: Constantine

Notes:

Constantine tried to hunt a ghost just to became a dad.
Or how Constantine and Tae-min met.

He first heard the rumors when he was drunk in a dive bar in London, half a bottle into forgetting and a quarter spell into remembering. Gotham whispers traveled fast when they were soaked in enough dread—and these were soaked through.

A ghost, they said.
A child-shaped thing.
It wandered the streets at night.
People were making shrines.

What a recipe for disaster.

This is how you make an entity spiral out of control. And in Gotham? That hellhole was already drenched in magic—cursed ground where tragedy, ritual, and desperation tangled like vines in the dark. Enough juice to drive a man mad on a good day. Add belief, mass hysteria, ritual worship? You could birth a god by accident.

Whatever this thing was, it had the potential to become a real problem. An urban legend with weight. Constantine had heard his share of those. But the tremble in the drunk’s voice— that stayed with him. Like the man had seen something he couldn’t unsee and was trying to drink it out of his veins.

So John said fuck it , flipped off Batman’s territorial rules, and went to Gotham himself.

What he found wasn’t a ghost.

It was a child.

A real one. Too small. Too pale. Silent in a way that wasn’t natural. Haunted. But alive. He looked like he hadn’t been hugged in years—but his clothes were expensive, his posture perfect, his silence learned .

Constantine found him crouched beside a dying man in the alley where Batman had once been born in blood. The boy’s tiny hands were pressed to the man’s chest, blood smeared down his wrists, a basic medic kit open and used like a pro. But that wasn’t what made John freeze—it was the humming. Soft. Like a lullaby passed down from a world long gone. 

“It’ll be alright, Charlie.” The boy whispered softly. “You can’t go, your daughter is waiting for you.”

The man should have died. But he didn’t. The boy saved him. Then called an ambulance, voice soft and calm, never once raising his eyes.

John stood still in the shadows, watching.

He could see why people mistook him for a ghost.
It was disturbing .

“Who are you?” the boy asked suddenly, still without looking up.

John stepped forward, cigarette already lit between his fingers. The smoke curled in the humid alley air, mixing with the scent of copper and rot. He crouched beside the kid, gaze sharp.

“You know what happens when you answer prayers, kid?” John asked, voice rough.

The child finally looked at him. Eyes like burn-out stars. Still burning, but faint. Tired. Old.

“I help,” he said.

Two words. No hesitation. No pride. Just certainty.

And John felt it then—like standing too close to a thunderstorm. That wrongness , not in a bad way, but in a too much way. Like the universe had poured just a little extra into this vessel. Coiled potential humming beneath skin.

He wasn’t cursed. Wasn’t possessed.

He was… becoming.

Not a ghost.

Not yet a god.

Just a human child. On the edge of something more.

---

John didn’t mean to stay involved. Not really.

He came back less than he could have, more than he should have. Gotham wasn’t his turf, and the kid wasn’t his responsibility. He warned Batman, passed the message along, and told himself to walk away.

But he couldn’t.

Because the kid kept appearing. Slipping through cracks. Living in a mansion but walking in the streets at night as it was his real home. No parental presence. He  would just vanish and reappear like the city breathed him out when needed. Like Gotham was raising him.

He began cataloging the signs. The boy was drenched in death magic—a residue heavy and sharp, like smoke that never left the clothes. Like something was etched into the fabric of his soul.

But even so, he was just a little kid.

John had tried. Genuinely. He tried to scare the boy off danger, to frighten him into staying put—into staying home . Lonely, maybe. But safe. That should’ve been enough.

But it wasn’t.

Because the kid was stubborn. Driven. Loud in ways that weren’t always verbal. He moved like someone born to witness everything. Like a puppy with too much curiosity and no sense of self-preservation, sticking his snout into everyone’s grief and trying to fix it.

Most nights, John would find him where he shouldn’t be—wedged between a crisis and a catastrophe. And, like clockwork, he’d curse, scold, drag the brat out of whatever burning building or blood-soaked mess he’d wandered into.

And then, on the way home, the kid would do the same damn thing every time: reach out with that small, warm hand and take John’s like it was nothing. Like it was always meant to be held.He’d hum, too. Little songs. Strange and sweet and wrong in a way John could never place. 

And John, stupid bastard that he was, kept coming back. Kept telling himself it was for research. For the sake of controlling a possible disaster. For the greater good. All of it lies.

Years passed.

Then, one night, John saw him again.

Perched on a rooftop. Wind catching at a cape too big for his frame. Mask snug over a still-soft face. Still growing into himself.

But the eyes—those eyes were the same. Wide and pale like burnt-out stars. Heavy with things no child should carry.

Still not a ghost.

Now wearing the symbol of another.

Robin.

John had hoped—foolishly—that that would be it. That it meant the boy had found a place. That it meant Batman, Gotham, someone else would take the weight off his small, goddamn shoulders.

He was wrong.

Because when shit hit the fan, it didn’t knock politely. It came the way Gotham always came—loud and bloody.

The kid vanished for a year. Just disappeared after telling the Justice League to fuck themselves—eloquently, too, from what John heard. Then he came back. Not just with proof he was right, but with answers —ways to save his dad.

Then he ran again. Cut ties with his family. With the League. With everyone.

And then— then —he shifted into something else.

And John got dragged right back in.

He started asking questions, casting threads, reading the cracks in the world to get ahead of whatever celestial shitstorm was coming. But it was already too late.

The magical underground was already whispering his name. Like a spell. Like a warning.

Not just the usual drunks and gutter mystics. Real practitioners were afraid. Warlocks. Seers. Entities too old to name. People who never agreed on anything spoke of him in the same breathless tone.

“A new god but worse,” someone murmured in Istanbul, face white, eyes distant. “Can’t you see the marks, Constantine? It’s in his sou l.”

Another, deeper in the catacombs beneath Prague, dust smeared across her cheeks, explained with reverence “The Endless watch him.”

John didn’t want to believe it.

Not until he started looking and then he couldn’t not see.

“He holds pieces of them in his soul.”

Even Zatanna agreed.

“Death, for sure,” she said, voice low, hands folded. “That’s clear. Despair, sometimes, in the way he grieves. Desire’s in the pull—people want to follow him. Delirium’s all over his moods, the way he slips sideways when no one’s watching.”

John had asked, just to be sure. “You think he’s a vessel?”

Zatanna shook her head, slow and sure. “No. Not a vessel. A mirror.”

John had just stared at her.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “It explains a hell of a lot.”

The kid had a death mark in his soul. That much was certain. But it wasn’t just shadow curling in his veins. There was light, too. Not blinding—just the kind that waited in quiet places. He lived between things. In the middle of moments. A liminal being. A threshold.

John had thought maybe he’d died and come back. But that wasn’t it. Death liked him. Marked him. Called him off-limits.

He could calm a room. Or terrify it. He could shift the emotional temperature of a place just by being in it. Reality bent for him. Time stuttered around him like it couldn’t quite decide which way to turn. He walked in dreams and prophets couldn’t see him clearly. Couldn’t predict him. 

He was sure they weren’t the cause of his change, but they were around enough to influence how he manifested his powers. It wasn’t a one time thing, for sure. The kid must have known this, he had to sense them around. 

Now, on a rooftop in Seoul, John sat beside him. Legs dangling off the edge. The kid—no, teenager —was still humming. Still spinning light and shadows between his fingers like playthings. Little butterflies danced in his palm, dissolving into sparks as the wind carried them away. Creating life like it was a trick party.

“Have you ever met anyone… strange?” John asked, voice loose and casual, playing it off as a joke.

Tae-min paused.

The humming stopped.

And John saw it again—how the boy’s gaze unfocused, how his shoulders tilted just slightly, how his entire presence bent like a prism catching another light.

Delirium’s touch was there. Undeniable.

The boy tilted his head. Studied him.

“Yeah,” he said. “You.”

John laughed, sharp and breathless. “Little shit.”

Tae-min smiled, bright and mischievous. Honest.

His eyes were still the same.

Wide and blue. Endless.

He was still a brat. Still stubborn. Still noisy. Still hellbent on poking his nose into every cosmic crack and bleeding wound.

But.

God or not.

Endless favorite or not.

He was still that little kid to John.

“You’re a piece of work, kid.”

He was family.

Notes:

Constantine: this is not my responsability.
Also Constantine when a little kid hold his hand and treat him as he wasn't a screwup: I would kill for you.
Cass later became a plus, his spookie twins.

Chapter 29: Coming of Age day.

He was four, and the world smelled of sesame oil, warm rice cakes, and the sweet bite of fruit candies. His tiny hands were sticky with tteok crumbs, and Grandma’s sleeve was rough but gentle as she wiped his mouth. His mother was laughing—really laughing—head tilted back so the winter light caught her cheekbones, as Ahjussi from the corner shop pressed a red envelope into Tae-min’s hands. Glittery cartoon tigers danced across its surface.

“For good luck, little winter sprite,” the old man said, his voice like a worn blanket.

Tae-min didn’t understand every word, but the warmth around him wrapped close, like being tucked beneath a quilt. They wore paper crowns from the bakery, frosting-stained and crooked, and blew candles out on a banana-milk cake. That night, Mommy’s arms were the whole world as she whispered against his hair, You were born under a lucky star. No matter what comes, remember that.

Later, when they came home, Father’s anger would slice the air sharp and bitter. But in that moment—surrounded by laughter, sugar, and soft voices—he was happy.

---

He was seven, and this time his mother didn’t call. She was somewhere far away, her voice unreachable.

In a coffee shop, he found the last cupcake—its frosting sagging under the summer heat. He carried it carefully to a rooftop near Crime Alley, the only place quiet enough to hear his own thoughts. He struck a match, watched the flame wobble, and pretended it was a candle.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered to himself.

Below, the city groaned—rain on tin, sirens weaving through alleys. He ate the cupcake slowly, trying to stretch sweetness into something like celebration, even as tears salted every bite. When it was gone, he stayed in the cold wind, convincing himself it was just another day.

---

He was ten. Fevered, skin damp and chilled, when a kind corner girl saw him wandering the alley. She pressed bitter medicine into his hand and pulled him into a quick, fierce hug. Later that night she would be beaten by a john, and he would find her and half-carry her to Leslie’s clinic.

She made him stay too—his fever was too high.

The girl didn’t make it.

He ran before morning.

The last time he’d seen his mother was six months ago. That night in the alley had been the first hug he’d gotten since then. As fever gnawed at him, he thought he might not make it to eleven. And maybe, he decided, that would be okay.

---

He was twelve when he started to celebrate again. Dick took him train-surfing; Barbara showed him a hacker trick that made him grin; Alfred appeared with a small cake, delicate as porcelain.

Mother still didn’t call, but she would the next day—her voice bright with apologies—and even Father would send an e-mail, though he got his age wrong again.

Bruce was less sharp that week, and he almost smiled at one of Tae-min’s questions.

He visited Grandma.

Maybe things would get better.

---

He was thirteen when he realized he wasn’t lucky.

Bruce handed him trauma for his birthday, Alfred indulged him, and everything felt like a mess. Bruce wasn’t his father. He wasn’t even sure the man thought of him as a son. Partners, maybe. Robin and Batman.

But Cassie, Bart, and Kon didn’t care about titles. They dragged him into the kitchen, coated counters in flour, sugar, and laughter. Bart stuck candles in upside-down; Kon misspelled his name in frosting; Cassie told him:

“This is your family too. You don’t have to earn it.”

When they sang, he let Cassie’s hug pull him into the circle.

He felt loved.

---

He was fourteen.

Mother was dead.

Kon was dead.

Sometimes he wished he was too.

---

 

He was fifteen and running. The quest to find Bruce had rotted into something darker—nights on rooftops, days in nameless hostels, his name forgotten even by himself. His body grew thinner, his edges sharper, his exhaustion bone-deep.

He only remembered it was his birthday when a kid in a market pressed a piece of mochi into his hand.

“You look like someone who needs cake.”

He ate it under stars too far away to touch and kept walking.

Sixteen felt far away.

He didn’t mind.

---

He made sixteen in Taiwan—Cass baked the cake. It leaned dangerously to one side, the frosting uneven, but she beamed like she’d built a palace. They sang on a rooftop strung with red and gold lanterns.

Shiva handed him a weapon he’d never use.

He wasn't robin anymore, or even a Wayne. But he had Cass with him.

To him, this was everything.

 

 

---

Seventeen on tour—Kwan baked this time, Min-jae slipped him a tteok and wiped his sticky fingers. Jiho wrapped him in a hug until he protested, and Seojin sang loudly and off-key.

In stage, fans sang happy birthday until his ears got red. 

Like with Cass and YJ, it felt like home.

---

He was twenty. Morning light softened Cass’s curtains; Kon’s arm was heavy and warm around his waist. Kon mumbled something into his shoulder, still half-asleep. Downstairs, Cassie and Bart were in mid-flour battle, Cass shoving a mixing spoon into his hand.

“Stir.”

Later, Eclipse held his Coming of Age Day celebration. Min-jae’s speech blurred his eyes. Jiho clung to him; Seojin sang; Kwan cried and begged him not to grow older. Jason called. Damian texted, stiff but sincere and quiet. Dick, Steph, Barbara, and Duke less so. Bernard and Ives made a video call. Shiva arrived. Diana brought a sword and stole him for the afternoon. Constantine brought wine and a cigarette-scented hug that somehow said stay safe .

Fans flooded the internet with art, edits, and stories. Gotham’s Koreatown threw a street festival in his name, alleys blooming with lanterns, mandu, and music.

He scrolled through posts, thinking of a rooftop cupcake years ago. His chest ached with something that wasn’t sadness.

When Kon asked if he wanted to go to the festival, he said yes.

---

#TaeMinDay / #GhostOfTheAlley20 Trending Worldwide

@GothamKtownFest

Koreatown is ready 🎉 Food stalls, lanterns, live music — all for our boy.🥟🍡
📍6th Ave & 39th Street — come celebrate with us!

@lanternly

there’s a banner across 6th Ave that literally says “For him” in Korean and English and I’m 🥹

@mandoobaby

the aunties at the K-bbq shop are giving out free mandu to everyone and telling stories about how they “saw him when he was this small” 🫶 #TaeMinDay

@NightlineGotham

Crowd already in the hundreds for Gotham’s Ghost festival in Koreatown. Lanterns, performances, street food, and a big screen streaming Eclipse music videos.

@solarnovashines 

okay so I swear I just saw Supernova flying towards Koreatown 

@flourhands 

NO WAY if he’s bringing Tae-min I’m gonna cry in the middle of 6th Ave

@GothamKtownFest 
📸 [Attached image: blurred but clearly Supernova descending with someone in his arms]

HE’S HERE!!!!

@candykoi 

it’s literally him in the middle of the festival, someone is handing him tteok, he’s laughing, I’m gonna collapse #TaeMinDay

@eclipsetea 

People in the crowd are chanting “Uri Tae-min! Uri Tae-min!” 🥹 He’s holding flowers someone gave him and waving like a baby prince.

@KonIsDaddy 

Supernova just set him down so gently I think I’m pregnant

@nightwingfan89

Lanterns. Music. Our boy smiling like he owns Gotham. This is cinema.

@RedHoodRumors 

Red Hood spotted lurking near the food stalls with a paper bag. betting it’s a gift.

@ECLIPSE_Jiho (video post)
🎥: A shaky video of Jiho holding the camera, Eclipse in a practice room. Tae-min walks in, confused, and is immediately bombarded with confetti and an off-key “Happy Birthday.”

“Happy Coming of Age Day to our little brother! You’ve grown so well. We’re proud of you, moon child.” 💙 #TaeMinDay #EclipseFamily

@ECLIPSE_MinJae (photo carousel)

Slide 1: Tae-min eating cake with frosting on his cheek
Slide 2: Min-jae hugging him mid-laugh
Slide 3: A blurry stage photo of Tae-min
“My ‘son’, always shining. You’ve made it to 20 with such a big heart. Never lose it. We’re so proud of you.”

@ECLIPSE_Kwan

“You’re just so brave and kind and we’re so proud of you. Thank you for letting me be in your life in those years. To see you grow into such an incredible man is a privilege.

Happy birthday, little brother. Stop getting older so fast, you’re gonna make me cry. ” 

@ECLIPSE_Seojin (video post)
🎥: Seojin playing guitar, softly singing Tae-min’s favorite childhood song. Tae-min in the background mouthing “stop it” but smiling.

“For the boy who makes all our days brighter.”

@cass_wu (Instagram story)
📸: Tae-min at her kitchen table, stirring cake batter. Caption:

“I love you.” 🐦

@CassieSandmark

“Happy Birthday to the only person who can make Bart Allen stand still long enough to bake.”

@BartAllen

“Happy birthday to the coolest man!!”

@ConnerKent
📸: Selfie of him and Tae-min, both smiling, hair a mess.

“Happy birthday to my favourite person.”

@DianaPrince

“In every culture, coming of age marks a passage into greater strength. You’ve already carried more than most. Now it’s time to live.” ⚔️

@DuckThomas

 📸: Tae-min laughing as a festival auntie hands him flowers.

“Even in Gotham, there are days when light wins. Today is one of them.”

Gotham Gazette – Headline:

“Koreatown Throws Massive Festival for Local Idol’s Coming of Age Day”
Crowds filled the streets with lanterns, live music, and food stalls in honor of Tae-min, a Gotham-born singer who rose to international fame. But to locals, he’s not just an idol — he’s the boy who once ran charity drives for school lunches, the teen who quietly funded free health clinics, and the young man who continues to give without seeking credit. “He’s our little god,” one vendor said, “our child. We raised him, and now he’s raising us.”

GNN Headline:

“Tae-min’s Coming of Age Day Draws Global Attention, Local Love”

Gotham Herald Op-Ed:

“We’ve seen many come and go from Crime Alley. Few make it out. Fewer still give back. Tae-min, born with a silver spoon in Bristol but practically raised here, did — and kept doing. The festival was not for Tae-min the celebrity. It was for Tae-min, the quiet protector who became our pride. You don’t have any idea about the things he has done for us since he became an idol. He doesn’t want fame for it. We think he should have.”

Reddit – r/GothamLocal (top post)
Title: Koreatown Festival for Tae-min
u/kimchi_mandu:

I knew him before the idol stuff. Kid used to hand out blankets in winter, buy food to street rats, give medical help, let alley kids crash in his home. You can’t buy that kind of heart.

Twitter – @crimealleymama

“We always knew he was special. Not because of music, but because of how he saw us. How he saw everyone.”

Instagram – @lanternfestgotham (carousel post)
Slide 1: Lanterns strung across the street
Slide 2: Tae-min laughing with a child in the crowd
Slide 3: Supernova setting him down

“Our little ghost turned 20 today. We hope he knows how loved he is.”

@koreatownbites (livestream)
🎥: Supernova standing in the middle of Koreatown in Gotham, holding a foam sword as three little kids gang up on him.
Auntie off-camera: “They’re playing for the right to marry our Tae!”
Crowd laughter.
Someone else: “Supernova is going to lose on purpose. Look at that man — whipped.”

Reddit – r/GothamWatch
Thread: Koreatown Festival Going Wild Tonight – Tae-min’s Day
u/lotuslanterns: “It’s not for Tae-min the idol, you know. It’s for Tae-min the kid who’s been helping here since forever. The one who fixed the community fridge, ran after-school tutoring, and got Leslie her new clinic equipment.”
u/noonajustice: “Yeah, people forget he was ours before the world knew him. The little ghost of Crime Alley.”

Daily Planet – Clark Kent (Street Interview)
Clark, smiling at an elderly shop owner: “Why do you think this festival is so important to the neighborhood?”
Shop owner: “Because he grew up here. We watched him run errands for Leslie’s clinic, feed stray cats, organize free meals. He raised money without putting his name on it. He’s not just a star. He’s our boy.”

Lois Lane – Op-Ed Headline:
“Not For the Idol — For their kid”
In Koreatown tonight, the festival is not for Tae-min the celebrity. It’s for the child who once carried groceries for neighbors, who quietly funded scholarships, who turned down credit for every good deed. The city remembers. The city loves him back.

TikTok – @EclipseOfficial (Eclipse backstage video)
🎥: The group singing happy birthday in five different languages while Tae-min blushes. Min-jae hands him tteok. Jiho ruffles his hair. Seojin yells off-key. Kwan wipes his eyes.
Caption: “Eclipse’s baby is 20 😭 #TaeMinDay ”

TikTok – @gothamlanterns (crowd POV)
🎥: Nightwing giving Tae-min a big hug, Robin handing him a tiny cupcake with a scowl, Spoiler smearing icing on his cheek.
Caption: “Vigilantes crashed the party. This is the crossover event of the century.”

 

The music softened as the night deepened. Lanterns swayed gently in the cool breeze. Tae-min drifted toward a quieter alley.

Kon shot him a worried glance from afar, kids climbing all over him. 

He knew Batman would be there before he saw him—just a shadow on a rooftop, the cowl sharp against the sky.

“Subtle,” Tae-min called.

Batman didn’t move for a while, then: “You look happy.”

“I am.”

“I am proud of you.”

From Bruce, it was almost an embrace. Once, those words would have carved him open, desperate for more. Now, with the warmth of the festival still in his chest and love waiting just around the corner, it didn’t ache anymore.

He tilted his head. “Years ago I would’ve died to hear that from you.”

Bruce stilled.

“Now?” Tae-min looked him in the eye. “I already have the approval that I need. Anyways, take care, B. ”

He returned to the laughter and lights, to the city that had raised him and the people who loved him. No prayers tonight—just well wishes.

Tae-min was twenty.
He hadn’t thought he’d get this far.
He was glad he had.

Notes:

Emotional damage to Bruce.

Back in Seoul, everyone is stressed seeing that Tae-min, who should be sleeping, is all over the internet IN GOTHAM, with VIGILANTES and being carried around by RED HOOD.

His group isn't even surprised anymore.

Also, him and Supernova aren't subtle at all.

Chapter 30: A game

Notes:

A manipulative god enters the chat.

Tae-min had known there would be consequences the second he stepped into Gotham with Kon for that festival. The company loved the Supernova Tae-min ship—it sold merch, it sold streams, it sold them—but the thought that it might actually be real? That was a line they wouldn’t allow crossed. Just like with Kwan and Min-jae. Fanservice was currency. Reality was a liability.

He had been wearing them down for years, chipping at their authority by refusing to break. They couldn’t ban him outright without the internet turning feral, and their favorite punishments had long since lost their teeth. Exhaustive training regimens? A joke compared to what he had endured before. Stripping him from promotions? They thought it was torture, but to him it was a vacation. So instead, they got creative, punishing him in pettier, uglier ways—silent cruelties meant to grind him down.

But things had changed. Ever since the whole god thing began, his patience for petty tyrants had been unraveling thread by thread. Mortals screaming about image, about rules, about “discipline”—it all seemed so small, so fragile. He could feel the weight of divinity in his bones now, heavy and endless, and every time some middle manager spat rules at him, the urge to laugh burned his throat.

He let a lot slide for the sake of the group. That was the only leash left on him. For them, he endured. For them, he tolerated slaps on the wrist and whispered threats. One word from any of them and he’d break the contract himself. He could pay the penalty fees for all of them in a heartbeat—Bruce’s money was there, and he had no qualms about using it. Bruce owed him that much, after everything.

But this—this dorm situation—was different.

It was time to leave the dorms anyway, time for the group to take that next step. And yet, instead of celebrating, the company weaponized it. They decided to “separate” Kwan and Min-jae, banning them from living together. The hypocrisy was suffocating. They loved the queerbait fantasy—winked at it, fed it to the fans—but when the people in question were actually in love? Suddenly it was a “problem.”

The meeting turned to ash in his mouth. He lost his patience in seconds. Not even Mrs. Lee’s attempts to mediate could cool him down.

“I’m bisexual too,” he snapped, voice cutting across the table like a blade. “So what? What are you going to do?”

The words weren’t just defiance—they were a warning. A spark tossed into dry brush.

The shouting match that followed was inevitable. He warned them, cold and precise, that if they pushed any further he would kiss Supernova on stage, in public, in Gotham or Seoul or Tokyo, wherever the cameras were brightest. He would burn their carefully crafted illusions to the ground and watch them choke on the smoke.

The room had erupted into noise, execs red-faced, staff gasping, Mrs. Lee begging him to sit down, to be quiet. But he didn’t care.

In the end, the group chose solidarity. They would stay together. Everyone knew the punishment was coming. Petty, precise, designed to hurt not just him but all of them—by making him suffer as an example.

That was when Tae-min made his decision.

He sat in the silence after the storm, hands folded, eyes sharp as glass. They thought they could still pull his strings, still treat him like a boy who hadn’t grown teeth. But he wasn’t that boy anymore. He wasn’t just an idol. He wasn’t just a son of Gotham. He was a god now.

And he wasn’t going to endure their cruelty a second longer.

If they wanted a war, he would give them one. Not with fists, not with secret arguments in boardrooms. He would make it public. He would bleed for the cameras, let the world see every bruise, every slight, every injustice. He would manipulate headlines, ignite fandoms, weaponize sympathy until the company was cornered with nowhere left to run.

And when they finally broke, crushed under the weight of their own greed and hypocrisy—
He would be there, smiling, ready to take everything they tried to deny him.

It was then, in the stale air of that conference room, that Tae-min decided.

He would not endure.
He would not bend.
He would declare war.

---

@haloheart97
“It was so good to see our tae so happy in the festival last night, but we know what it means for him now that he is back in seoul.”

@kwanjaelover
“So true sis.”

@haloforever
“What do you mean? I’m a new halo. Can you explain?”

@haloheart97
“Sure. They always punish him after moments of freedom. This week, they’ll put Tae in promotions alone  just to watch him suffer. They’ve done it for years. Gotham Aegis has forums that document everything. Want the links?”

@haloforever
“…For real?”

@kwanjaelover
“Yeah. When they want to punish him, they put him in situations like this, knowing it wears him down.”

@haloforever
“This is horrible.”

@haloheart97
“They are horrible. And not just to him. If you want to know more, we can send you the threads. Fans have receipts.”

[The Documentation Era: Eclipse vs. Their Own Company]
Byline: weareyourhalo

When Eclipse debuted, fans celebrated their potential: striking visuals, unconventional stage presence, and a group dynamic that felt less manufactured than most of their peers. They from the start got a lot of attention, especially thanks to how Tae-min went viral as a trainee and the whole prince of Gotham campaign during it.

But beneath the glossy choreography and photocard smiles, there was always tension. Not between the members, but in the company. And now—five years in—it’s impossible to ignore: Eclipse’s rise has happened not because of StarsPathway, but in defiance of it.

Over the years, fans have collected receipts, leaks, and firsthand accounts. What emerges is not the picture of a supportive agency but a hostile workplace—where members were punished for speaking out, their identities erased when inconvenient, and even their personal lives manipulated for profit.

The first red flags appeared in anonymous forums, whispers from staffers who saw what fans couldn’t.

 “You didn’t hear this from me, but Eclipse’s company doesn’t like Jiho. They think a mixed background is risky in Korea. He only gets lines because the fans keep trending hashtags. If it were up to management, he’d be invisible.”

Fans quickly realized that the group’s visibility was driven not by the label’s strategy, but by grassroots campaigns. Jiho’s line distribution, Seojin’s outspoken defense of the team, even Tae-min’s protective instincts—all of it seemed to invite retaliation.

 “Seojin gets dragged as the ‘loud one,’ but have you noticed how many times he speaks up when the others look uncomfortable? … The company hates him for it, but he’s the reason Eclipse doesn’t burn out completely.”

It became a pattern. Whenever a member pushed back, punishment followed. Fans documented this “cause-and-effect” cycle in real time:

“Tae-min interfering AGAIN. Apparently during training he stood up for Jiho. Management wasn’t pleased. Later that week, he was suddenly scheduled for two solo shoots back-to-back in noise-heavy sets—classic punishment. They know those conditions are hard for him.”

The cruelty was systemic. When the press criticized Tae-min for seeming “cold,” the company stayed silent about his autism. Fans—not staff—were the ones explaining why flashing lights and chaotic environments were overwhelming.

Meanwhile, others were reshaped against their will. Kwan’s softness was part of his charm, but the company insisted on harsher styling whenever Eclipse gained momentum. He was too ‘feminine’ to them. 

By 2022, the cracks widened. Min-jae’s clashes with management became infamous after the whole Monaco fiasco. He defended overworked trainees, argued about unfair restrictions, and openly challenged executives. He wasn’t alone. Tae-min repeatedly sabotaged the company’s attempts to isolate or silence other members.

If there was a single throughline, it was exploitation. Eclipse’s management leaned into queerbaiting—teasing relationships for profit—but cracked down on members’ real connections.

u/inkedtea: “ There was a rumor Min-jae confronted management when they told Kwan to tone it down. ‘If you don’t want us together, stop selling us as a pair.’ He’s got guts.”

By 2025, the pictureis undeniable. Eclipse’s achievements—charting songs, sold-out tours, international recognition—were powered almost entirely by their fandom. Hashtags, grassroots streaming campaigns, and word of mouth carried the group forward while the company dragged them down.

---

u/moonchild97
It’s not just paranoia.They put him to promote alone in JAPAN after the Gotham festival, even when they had already announced Min-jae and Kwan. That was his birthday. Instead of celebrating, he got dragged back and suddenly he is in interview after interview all alone. They are isolating him from the others.

u/nyxey
It was not just because of the Gotham festival, but the change in the dorms. An insider source says he was the one to instigate the others when they banned Min-jae and Kwan to stay together. They are punishing all of them by isolating the maknae. 

u/flyhighEclipse
And they didn’t put Mrs Lee with him , because we know she would protect him. They aren’t even trying to hide that this is a punishment. 

eclipse-diary

“It’s the pattern that kills me. They have different methods with them.  With Min-jae are sudden disappearances, Tae isolation and an exhaustive schedule.  And fans kept screaming into the void..”

u/seoulnights
What broke me was the company acting like it is nothing and we don’t have memory. They oppressed Kwan and banned him from posting, excluding Jiho from promotions, turning a blind eye to Seojin receiving hate, putting Tae in horrible situations, exploiting his condition to punish him, and erasing Min-jae whenever he intervenes. 

u/glitterbat
And ppl outside said we were “exaggerating.”

u/midnightmango
Min-jae once said in an interview: “If we don’t speak for each other, who will?” I swear that was aimed at management.

---

[X post – trending tag: #ProtectTaeMin]

@taeminsangel:
It’s good that this is trending and people are seeing it FINALLY. Never forget how they didn’t protect him in Monaco when there was that shit show with people filming him having a breakdown.
#ProtectTaeMin #EclipseDeservesBetter

@g0thamroses 

So, do they really let our Tae promote alone in Japan while the others promote together in China and Korea? Fuckers

@nightowl99
I wanted to be this cool. He’s leading these interviews so well, even with the host being an asshole. Gotham has your back, Tae.

@g0thamroses
It’s backfiring so fast with the management, he’s doing so well.

@highsocietykid
Of course he is. He was born & raised in Gotham’s high society. This is literally nothing for him.

@nightowl99

They didn’t even put good security for him in the airport, it is lucky that the halos from Japan are respectful with him.

@interviewtea
It’s been two weeks… why is he all alone in those interviews??

@interviewtea

And they announced another variety show in Japan. I know I said that I love seeing him, but not like this.

---

Anonymous Staff Post (Interview TV):

"I don’t usually do this, but after seeing how things are going online, I can’t stay silent. I worked on the set of the interview show last day where Tae-min appeared with the other idols. What people don’t know is that he was already burning up with fever that day. He was shivering, barely able to keep his head up between takes. We offered to call the shoot off, but his manager insisted he could handle it.

The host was furious. Off-camera, I saw them pull the manager aside and scold him for being careless and far too rough with a kid who was clearly unwell. They told him it was unacceptable. Tae-min kept apologizing to everyone, even though he had nothing to apologize for. It broke my heart. Please, don’t blame Tae-min if he looks tired or makes mistakes—he was working through something no one should have to."

 

Fan Post:

"I was outside the hotel in China when Kwan and Min-jae came out earlier today. Someone shouted if they knew Tae-min was sick. Kwan stopped for a second—he looked… startled, worried. He asked the fan what they meant, but the staff rushed them into the car before anything else could be said.

This means they don’t know what’s happening. They're completely cut off from updates about their own member. The fact that Kwan had to hear from us that Tae-min is unwell is insane. Fans are furious right now—if the company is hiding his condition from his own brothers, what else are they hiding?"

Reply

Jiho and Seojin were at a schedule in Seoul. They looked miserable the entire time, like they were forcing themselves to smile. After the event ended, someone snapped a picture (it’s circulating already) of Jiho crying into Seojin’s shoulder. Mrs. Lee was right there, holding both of them, trying to calm them down. It broke my heart.

I overheard staff whispering nearby, and it’s worse than we think. Many idols who are close to Eclipse are furious about what’s happening. They’re worried, but they’re scared to speak out directly because of retaliation from the company.

One of them even said this is the first time they’ve seen such open arrogance from a label — like they truly believe nothing will happen to them no matter how they treat the members. The confidence is terrifying.

I don’t know what Eclipse is going through exactly, but it’s clear it’s breaking them. Seeing Jiho cry like that… I can’t imagine what Tae-min, Min-jae, and Kwan are dealing with abroad. Something needs to change before it’s too late.

---

The studio lights were dazzling, casting the set in a warm glow, but EJ found himself distracted from the usual excitement of variety shows. His gaze kept slipping to the boy sitting a little apart from the others.

Tae-min.

He was the only one without any of his group members present, and somehow, that isolation made him appear smaller—though in truth, it was impossible to overlook him. White hair caught the light like threads of silver fire, his pale skin luminous against the bright backdrop. He looked fragile, almost dazed, but there was something magnetic about him, something you couldn’t look away from.

The other idols filled the space with chatter, easy laughter, and playful bickering, but Tae-min sat quiet, fingers twisting the hem of his sleeve. Even so, the cameras seemed to find him, and when they did, he would offer the smallest of smiles—soft, devastating.

EJ’s eyes flicked to the man standing just off-set. The manager. His sharp stare never left Tae-min, and EJ’s chest tightened with unease. Tae-min seemed to feel it too, because every time he spoke—even though his Japanese was near-perfect—his words came out in careful, measured tones.

When the MC asked if he was enjoying Japan, Tae-min gave a faint smile, head tilted just so. “People are kind,” he said, voice quiet. The audience cooed, charmed. But EJ caught the way his gaze darted toward the manager for a split second, as though measuring how much he was allowed to admit to.

Later, during a silly game, someone teased him about being nervous. Tae-min’s laugh was soft, self-effacing, and then—almost too quiet to catch—he murmured, “I just don’t want to cause trouble. I tend to run my mouth when I’m tired, so… it’s best if I shut up. I can’t make more mistakes.”

His words were nearly lost in the noise, but EJ heard them. So did the others nearby. The air shifted, the mood dipping into something heavier. Pity, protectiveness. The easy banter faltered as idols around him softened, glances sliding his way.

He stumbled. Just once—graceful still, but off enough to draw notice that he was limping. The manager’s glare cut across the set like a knife. EJ heard Fuma hiss under his breath, “Like it’s the kid’s fault. He’s dead on his feet. Did they even let him rest?”

When the game ended, EJ drifted closer without thinking, settling near Tae-min as he blinked heavy-lidded, fighting sleep. Up close, the boy seemed even smaller. Exhausted.

EJ offered a smile, easy and nonchalant. “Rough round, huh?”

Tae-min looked up, surprised. For a moment, his expression was open, guileless. Then he smiled—sweet, apologetic. “Sorry. Usually I’m not that clumsy.”

“I believe you,” EJ replied. “Your wins in games like this are legendary. K always said he wanted to compete with you.”

Color touched Tae-min’s ears, and Fuma shot EJ a look before mouthing, like our Harua.

“I’m just tired,” Tae-min said quickly. Then, softer, “I’m not lying.”

“Who said you’re lying?” EJ asked gently.

“I—no one.”

The hesitation, the little flick of his gaze toward the shadow of his manager, told EJ everything.

None of them saw the calculation beneath the tired eyes, the way every stumble, every trembling smile was perfectly placed. They only saw a fragile boy who needed saving.

And Tae-min, with the subtle brilliance of a cruel  god in disguise, let them.

---

@taeminnieprotect
Tae looks so tired, poor thing 💔

@japanairportleaks
why does tae-min look so pale today 😭😭😭 pls someone tell him to rest #Eclipse #taemin ”

@letTaeRestpls
For fuck’s sake. Let Tae rest.

@taeminnieprotect

“HE’S LIMPING HELLO??????”

@nightowl99  

“ok not me crying bc fuma + ej are literally following him like bodyguards during the treasure hunt, you can SEE fuma trying to hold his arm when he stumbles 😭”
@taeminnieprotect
“bro… he almost fainted when they handed him the clue card… this is not funny anymore.”

---

Jason leaned back against the old leather couch, a lazy smirk tugging at his mouth as he nursed a bottle of water. Damian sat rigid on the armrest, arms crossed, the picture of irritation at being asked the same question for the third time.

“Dami,” Jon pressed, hovering like he couldn’t quite settle, his brows pulled together in genuine worry. “Is he alright?”

Damian didn’t even hesitate. “Of course he is. He is not weak.” His tone carried the sharp edge of finality, like daring anyone to disagree.

Duke, sitting cross-legged on the rug, gave Jon a look that said you’re not going to get much out of him. “Yeah, Jon. Relax. This is nothing compared to the insane shit he’s already done.”

Jon shifted uncomfortably, still unconvinced. “But he’s hurt. I saw him limping.”

Jason barked out a low laugh. “That’s because he was on a mission in Japan last night with Cass. Took a nasty fall. Nothing broken, nothing major. Kid’s just milking it.”

Jon’s head snapped toward him. “Milking it? Why would he—”

Jason leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping into something more conspiratorial. “Because it’ll win him sympathy and screw with his company. They screamed at his group, treated them like trash. He’s pissed. He is going out at night with Cass, asking all of us to not interfere, even Diana. Kid is cooking something.”

“Oh,” Jon breathed, the realization dawning on him.

Jason grinned, wolfish. “Yeah. He’s already turning the internet against them without saying a damn word. He takes the hits, he plays fragile, everyone rallies to his side. Meanwhile, management’s the villain. He’s making himself the scapegoat.”

Duke whistled low, shaking his head with reluctant admiration. “That’s… actually brilliant.”

Jason tilted his head back, laughing. “Prepare yourselves. That little shit’s about to pull the rug from under an entire company. And the best part?” He took a long sip of water, eyes glinting. “He looks like the victim while doing it.”

“And what Bruce thinks about it?” 

“Being helpful for once.”

---

 Statement from Bruce Wayne (Official Press Release):

"It has come to my attention that my son, Tae-min, is being mistreated and neglected under the care of his current management company. I have seen enough evidence to confirm that he has been forced to perform and attend schedules while ill, without proper medical attention, and under unsafe working conditions.

This is unacceptable.

Tae-min is not only an artist — he is a young man whose health and well-being must come first. If his company cannot provide the basic care and respect he deserves, then Gotham will take him back. My son’s safety is not negotiable.

Let me be clear: Tae-min will always have a home here, and Gotham will protect him.

— Bruce Wayne"*

Hashtag trending worldwide: #FreeTaeMin

 Gothamites commenting:

"You heard the man. Gotham takes care of their own. Bring the boy home."

"Bruce Wayne threatening to take Tae-min back to Gotham… I don’t think people realize how serious this is. Gotham doesn’t bluff."

"If Gotham wants him back, the company better start panicking. They don’t want Gotham smoke."

"Tae-min is ours. He’s family. #FreeTaeMin" 

"Imagine neglecting a kid Gotham already claimed. These people don’t know what kind of wrath they just invited."

"Bruce Wayne stepping in?? Oh this is about to get biblical."

"They think Gotham won’t cross the ocean for their ghost child? Try us."

---

[CLIP from the Variety Show – trending on TikTok]
caption: “even the host knew something was wrong ”
 Subtitles:

Host: “You don’t look well, are you okay?”
Tae-min: (laughs weakly) “Ah… sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well… or eating much. Without my group, I forget sometimes.”
Host: “…You miss them, don’t you?”
Tae-min: “Every day.”

[Fan forum thread — real-time reactions]

“he joked about forgetting to eat?? that’s not a joke omg my heart is breaking”
“you can see the host’s face fall when he said he misses the others 😭😭😭 like even she couldn’t hide it”
“why is he even alone at schedules like this? they KNOW he’s not okay”

---

[LEAKED VIDEO – Shaky Phone Cam Outside the Venue]
 Manager scolding Tae-min loudly while dragging him by the arm.
 Suddenly, Fuma runs into frame, blocking the manager. Gasps from the person filming.
The video shakes as someone guides Tae-min back inside.
 Tae-min, voice clear and raw: “They don’t even let me call my sister.”
The crowd erupts in noise before the clip CUTS

---

The manager’s voice was sharp and low, each word slicing like glass in the narrow backstage hallway.
“You don’t get to say things like that in interviews. Do you even think before you open your mouth?”

Tae-min stood still, his head bowed just enough to appear chastised. The picture of obedience. But the stillness wasn’t submission—it was control. Something he was trying not to lose while this bastard was running his mouth. 

Through the reflection in the glass wall, he saw the lobby beyond: the &TEAM members lingering after the interview, their faces pulled tight with worry. Behind them, the faint gleam of a phone lens blinked in the crowd. Recording. Watching.

A spark kindled in his chest. If the company wanted silence, he would give them spectacle instead. He would win this game right now.

He raised his head. Slowly. Deliberately. The air shifted when his gaze locked onto the manager’s. His voice cut through the charged air, low and unyielding, stripped of honorifics:
“You want me to shut up? You confiscated my phone, dragged me around like a child, and still expect me to smile for you? I’m not your doll. I’m a fucking person, you bastard.”

“Tae—min—” The manager hissed, reaching forward, hand lifting as though to push him down like one disciplines a dog.

Something ancient stirred in Tae-min’s chest. A voice, not his own but always his: Who does this human think he is, laying hands on me?

“Don’t touch me!”

His shout cracked like a whip, the sound reverberating down the corridor and into the lobby.

The manager’s hand clamped on his arm anyway, rough, punishing. Tae-min didn’t resist. Instead, he let his body go slack, collapsing into the perfect image of a boy too weak, too fragile to fight back. His stumble was art. The murmurs outside sharpened into outrage.

And then—movement. Fuma burst through the doors, his presence explosive, fury radiating as he stepped between them, arm outstretched to block the manager. A staff member followed fast. Words were exchanged, heated, drowned by the roar of voices outside. EJ was there too, slipping past in the chaos, his hand firm but careful as he drew Tae-min back toward the safety of the lobby.

Tae-min flinched at the touch, shrinking smaller, folding into himself like paper. Every eye would see vulnerability, not the calculation behind it. Every camera would record cruelty.

The manager shouted louder about his disrespect, but no one was listening to him now. Not with the story already written.

EJ bent, his voice calm, reassuring, threaded with compassion that stung, because Tae-min knew it was genuine. “Hey,” he murmured, steady. “He won’t drag you again. We won’t let him. Okay? Is there someone you can call?”

Tae-min lowered his gaze, letting his lashes shadow his eyes. He breathed shakily, cracked his voice just enough, and whispered, “They took my phone. They don’t even let me call my sister. I need Cass… Can I borrow yours?”

The words were pitched perfectly, soft but carrying across the lobby. The recording phones caught every syllable. Silence followed, thick and heavy, punctuated by the faint sound of someone gasping.

And behind the mask of trembling weakness, Tae-min hid the curve of a smile.

Checkmate.

---

Reddit – r/KpopUncensored
Thread: Eclipse’s mistreatment is not just speculation anymore (Long Post)

u/moonchild94:
People have been whispering for years, but after that leaked video? There’s no way to deny it anymore.

[Top comment on a viral TikTok edit of today’s events]

“i don’t think i’ve ever felt this protective of an idol before.”

 

“this is actually abuse. idk what else to call it.”

---

 

[STAFF POST – Leaked on a fan forum, later reposted on Twitter]

I was working at the venue yesterday and saw what really happened with Eclipse’s Tae-min after the recording.

It’s true that his manager was shouting at him and trying to drag him away, but the &TEAM staff did NOT let that happen. They stood in front and told the manager he couldn’t take Tae-min like that. A few of their members (EJ and Fuma especially) stayed close to him until things calmed down.

After some back and forth, one of Eclipse’s senior staff arrived — not the manager. He was incredibly kind, spoke gently to Tae-min, and made sure he was safe. You could tell he genuinely cared about him. Tae-min relaxed instantly and went back with him to the hotel.

He told them the manager was officially dismissed. Please stop blaming &TEAM or spreading false rumors that they let them take him. They protected him and only let him be taken away when they were sure the manager who mistreated him was dismissed.

---

[Breaking Clip — Hotel Lobby, Night 14]
📹: fans filming as Mrs. Lee storms into the hotel lobby with Kwan + Min-jae beside her.   Fan caption: “MOTHER IS BACK 😭😭😭 SHE BROUGHT THE HYUNGS WITH HER”

@eclipse_luvr
THIS IS TRUE 
the manager is gone and Tae-min’s mom + Kwan + Min-jae are with him right now. 😭😭😭
I’m literally crying at work.

@hybe_tea
not people dragging &TEAM when they literally STOOD BETWEEN tae and his manager???

@sunrise_boy
“he instantly relaxed when senior staff came” <- I’m sobbing. he must’ve been so scared before that…

@kwanmyhero
MIN-JAE AND KWAN ARRIVED??? 😭😭😭 you guys don’t understand, this is the family reunion I was begging for. THEY FLEW TO HIM IMMEDIATELY.

@exolips
the way Eclipse hyungs dropped everything to go protect their maknae… real brothers. Real family.

@starlighttae
manager GONE. ✨ KARMA DELIVERED. ✨
celebrating like it’s a holiday rn.

@fanacc_updates
so we got:
– &TEAM staff + members shielding tae
– senior eclipse staff stepping in
– manager FIRED
– kwanje hyungs + MOM Lee arriving
this feels like a drama script but it’s REAL 

@cryingovereclipse
honestly… the way fandoms were fighting yesterday, and now we find out they literally protected him … I feel so guilty. 🥺 thank you &TEAM.

@softboyfiles
Please let him REST. please let him just be loved. 

Princess Diana’s Post (Twitter/X)

“No young artist should endure this kind of mistreatment, least of all someone who gives so much of himself to the world. What we saw was abuse, plain and simple. Those responsible must be held accountable.”

Her words spark international media coverage, pushing the video into global trending

Airport Fan Post

“I was at Incheon today and saw Mrs. Lee personally with Tae-min. He looked exhausted, head down, walking so slowly… she held his bag and guided him with her hand on his back like a mom. They left quietly, no staff, no manager, just her shielding him with his hyung. Fans were really respectful and he smiled at them, but looked really tired. People whispered that she brought him back to Korea before schedule, without permission. I’m scared for her… but I’m also so thankful someone protected him.”

Kwan’s Post (Instagram)
  [Picture of Tae-min asleep on the plane, head tilted toward Kwan’s shoulder, his small hand wrapped around Kwan’s fingers. Min-jae’s hand rests lightly on Tae-min’s knee.]

“Just like a baby.”

Fans flood the comments with crying emojis, heart emojis, and “Thank you, Kwan.”

---

The air in the room was thick, almost oppressive, heavy with the aftermath of the leaked videos and the chaotic reactions of fans. Shadows clung to the corners, muting the edges of the bright lights, while the group huddled close, voices low, Korean fading into murmurs as Tae-min finally broke the silence.

“They’re going to fire Mrs. Lee,” he said, flat and deliberate. Each word landed like a hammer, measured, unstoppable. “They’ll wait for the storm to pass, for the crowd to calm, and then they’ll use her as a scapegoat. That’s how they operate. I won’t let it happen.”

Min-jae leaned back, arms crossed, calm as stone but every line of his body radiating certainty. “Then maybe it’s time. Time for us to leave the company.”

Jiho’s head snapped up, eyes sharp. “Leave? You mean… end the contract? I want that too, but—lawsuits, smear campaigns, blacklisting. They’ll throw everything at us. How do we survive that?”

Min-jae’s gaze swept the room, slow, deliberate, weighing each person. “Do you want to leave?”

One by one, heads nodded. No hesitation. No doubt. After two weeks from hell where they were paraded around in three different countries while receiving news of Tae-min’s declining health with no way of rescuing him, all of them were pissed.

“Then we can,” Min-jae said, voice calm yet heavy with authority. “I’ve been preparing.”

“Really?” Seojin looked at him shocked, then at Kwan who didn’t look surprised. Obviously he was in the known. “Since when?”

“Since Monaco—since what happened to Tae-min—I’ve been setting this in motion. I realized that we needed to protect each other more.” 

A small, almost imperceptible smile curved Tae-min’s lips. “Funny,” he said, tilting his head, eyes gleaming. “Because I’ve been preparing too.”

“Since when?” Min-jae asked, brow arched.

“The first week,” Tae-min replied, gaze flicking to Kwan. “When someone yelled at Kwan about his clothes.”

Kwan’s eyes went wide. Then warmth spread across his face as he embraced Tae-min, fingers curling tightly into his shoulders.

“Like father, like son,” Seojin said, voice soft but amused, a chuckle escaping.

“So that’s why you got close to JayB from Got7 that year?” Seojin asked Min-jae, watching Kwan hold Tae-min, who was melting in his arms like a little kid.

Min-jae’s smile was small, knowing, like a secret only he carried. “Yeah. He helped me put pieces together. Got7 opened the precedent. Showed us it could be done. They left the company and got their name and labels, staying together. He was happy to help when I told him what happened.”

They all paused with it, thinking about what they endured in those years. 

“We are really leaving.” Jiho whispered. “And staying together. I don’t… I don’t even care if we have to change the name, if we get to be together and do music again..”

Tae-min leaned forward now, eyes sharp, fire dancing behind the calm surface. “We can leave. But I want more than leaving. What about the other trainees? Will they continue to be crushed?”

Silence fell. Heavy. Thick. Like the room itself was holding its breath.

“I want our name,” Tae-min said, voice cold, unyielding. “Our records. Our history. Everything they think they own.” His fists curled on his knees, knuckles white. “And while we fight for it, I’ll drag this company through hell. Every scar, every injustice—they will pay. And when they’re weak enough…”

He lifted his gaze, slow, deliberate. Eyes locking with everyone in the room, a smile spreading across his face: calm, calculated, lethal in its precision.

“…it will be a free state.”

The words lingered, settling like smoke. And in that moment, the weight of what was to come pressed down, unstoppable, inevitable.

---

Breaking News Headlines

Billboard : “Eclipse Breaks Free: Members Terminate Contracts, Seek Full Rights to Name & Catalog”

Notes:

Shiva, calling Tae-min: Do you want me kill them?
Tae: No, mom, Let me handle it.

Kon and YJ: so, can we...
Tae: No.

Diana and Constantine: Maybe we should...
Tae: No.

Bruce: ...
Tae: 'Sighs' Do a Brucie and give me money.

Everyone worried about tae-min while he is playing the long game.
And Min-jae proving that a DNA test is needed.

Mrs Lee, who is also playing a even longer game than them: So, I'll be fired, but I'll take this company down with me.

Tae-min losing his cool more nowadays with this puny mortals, just trying not to kill the manager when he opens his mouth.

Chapter 31: Media War

Notes:

Tae-min is having so much fun and Jason, the theater kid, is proud.
Everyone else is stressed.

Dispatch : “Legal War: Former Agency Seeks Injunction Against Eclipse’s Activities”

Variety : “Industry Shakeup: Eclipse to Establish Independent Label”

Dispatch: “Eclipse Members File Preliminary Injunction Against Agency: Legal Battle Officially Begins”

Rolling Stone: “Media War Ignites: Eclipse vs. Entertainment Giant”

---

 

  The Eclipse Exodus: Why Min-jae and Tae-min Might Just Change the Industry

Everyone remembers the Monaco incident — the night Tae-min had a public breakdown and his agency stood back, silent. What most fans didn’t know until now is that Min-jae has been moving like a chess master ever since, lining up allies, talking to lawyers, even reaching out to global partners. 

This isn’t just about contracts. This is about power. Tae-min has always had powerful friends — not just celebrities, but political figures, artists, and yes, even heroes, Diana herself. Combine that with Min-jae’s ruthless pragmatism and you get the perfect storm.

The company underestimated them. Now they’re facing not just Eclipse, but a network of support so wide it terrifies them.

---

  "EXPOSED: Min-jae’s Troubled Past – Violence, Family, Street Fights, and a Temper Hidden Behind Idol Smiles"

 The Seoul Daily (op-ed): “What the tabloids call ‘violence’ was a self-defense incident as a teenager against school bullies. Min-jae was cleared by the courts years ago. To weaponize this now, when he’s in the middle of legal battles with his company, is beyond shameful.”

International K-Culture Blog: “They’re trying to paint him as violent when, in reality, he was a kid who survived abuse. His father killed his mother, before it it was years were he suffered in his hand to shield his siblings. Fans know his story—this is manufactured outrage.”

Social Media:

@idolkidsunite : “So they dig up his trauma to cover their own crimes? Min-jae didn’t hide his past. He SURVIVED it. Shame on the media.”

@streetfightertruthers : “Wow, ‘temper’? You mean defending himself against five bullies? Yeah, real monster 🙄 #WeStandWithMinJae”

@truth_about_eclipse  “Min-jae’s father murdered his own wife. Is this who you want representing youth? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Replies:
— @moonchild_97: “Shut up, clown. Using trauma for PR is peak low.”

@starlight_jieun: “They really dragged Min-jae’s family trauma into this?? Absolutely disgusting. Stay strong, Eclipse. We got you.”

@eclipseangel: “Not me crying reading Min-jae’s interview. He turned the most painful part of his life into strength against them… my respect for him is endless.”

---

"Rumors Swirl About Eclipse Members’ Sexuality – Are They Misleading Fans?"

BBC Culture: “ It’s 2025, and still headlines weaponize sexuality to destroy careers. The boys of Eclipse deserve privacy. This feels less like journalism and more like a smear tactic.”

Social Media:

@rainbowfandom: “ If they’re gay, bi, ace, straight—it’s literally none of our business. They owe us music, not their private lives.”

@scapegoatwatch: “Funny how THIS comes out right when the lawsuit is heating up. Coincidence? Nah.” 

@rainbowfandom : “They don’t even know the fandom, if they did they would know that it makes us want to protect them even more. Nobody deserves to be outed against their will.”

@kwanprotectsquad : “FORCING someone out of the closet is violence. Kwan & Min-jae deserved better. We love you boys"

---

“Tae-min’s Mental State Questioned – Gotham’s ‘Ghost Child’ Too Fragile for Idol Life?"

New York Times (Arts): “The label of ‘fragile’ is ironic considering Tae-min’s resilience is the reason Eclipse is still standing. To weaponize his mental health reads as both ableist and desperate.”

Naver Editorial: “Calling him a ‘ghost child’ as mockery is cruel and a dangerous move for anyone who knows Gotham. This is not reporting. This is character assassination.”

Social Media:

@justice4eclipse: “Notice how they always paint Tae-min as ‘mentally unstable’ when they can’t discredit his actual talent or his testimony.”

---

"The Wayne Family Connection – The controversial family ties and what we know."

The Gotham Times: “There are few things more reckless than poking Gotham’s protector. Wayne Enterprises files immediate lawsuits. Journalist dismissed within 24 hours.”

Social Media:

@bruciebrat: “They really thought they could smear BRUCE WAYNE of all people? Gotham is about to eat them alive”

@waynewatchers : “The audacity. Gotham kids are sacred ground—ask anyone who’s ever tried this before.”

@globalfansunited: “OMG, THEY DIDN’T LMAO.”

@g0tham_girl: “ So they tried to imply BRUCE WAYNE is a predator?  lmfaooo StarPathway must have a death wish. Gotham doesn’t play about their own. “

---

Billboard Korea: “Smear Campaign Backfires: Public Sympathy Rallies AroundEclipse Members"

Korea Daily: “Privacy violated: Global outrage mounts after forced outings of Eclipse members. Calls for resignations rise.”

Rolling Stone Asia: “Weaponizing queerness is the oldest, ugliest tactic. It failed. Fans double their support.”

The Gotham Gazette : “Wayne Enterprises Lawyers Enter K-Pop Legal Dispute: ‘We Will Not Tolerate Defamation’”

The Guardian: “A weaponized leak becomes a confession of systemic abuse. International human rights groups demand accountability.”

Billboard : “From smear to spotlight: Tae-min’s story sparks global conversation on exploitation in the industry.”

 X Trending:

#ECLIPSE
#ProtectMinjae
#StandWithTaemin
#JusticeForEclipse
#MediaWar

---

 Reddit Thread: r/kpopindustry

u/throwawayinsider94:
I worked there. Everything people are saying is true. They’d deny him breaks, push him into overstimulation, then call him “difficult” when he melted down.
Min-jae fought constantly behind the scenes. 

Trust me when I say: the agency is TERRIFIED now. They know Min-jae has been planning this for years. They know Tae-min has people in politics, media, even heroes. They didn’t just lose an idol group. They started a war.

  u/formerstylistreal:
Seconding this. I worked with them too — didn’t last long. They made me sign stacks of confidentiality papers before I quit.

Poor Kwan suffered a lot. His looks got him the wrong kind of attention. The worst thing I remember was during a tour: they tried to separate the boys into different hotel rooms. One night, an exec — I won’t name who — tried to barge into Kwan’s room, thinking he was alone. But Tae-min was there. Tae-min knocked the guy flat. They scolded him.

They scolded the child for protecting his friend from a predator.

After that, they always slept together, no matter what rooming plan the company tried. They didn’t trust the adults around them. They only trusted each other.

  u/choreographer:
There were some good managers there, who endured because if they left, they would put someone else in their place who could make the kids' life hell. Mrs Lee endured a lot trying to shield them, just for people to judge her about why she didn’t speak up before. To be silenced?  The boys would be in the hands of someone like the bastard that hurt tae-min in Japan. 

She left when they left, until then she stayed by them.  

u/insideragain:
Here’s the thing: idols talk. The industry is smaller than fans think. Eclipse’s story isn’t unique, but it’s the first time an idol group has the power, evidence, and connections to burn an agency to the ground. If they go public with everything? This won’t be a scandal. It’ll be an earthquake.

---

Eclipse vs. StarPathway: What We Know Until Now

By: Gotham Gazette 

Introduction

Over the past few months, even casual social media users will have seen the name Eclipse . The South Korea–based boy group, who debuted nearly five years ago, steadily gained popularity for their charismatic performances, tight-knit bond, and especially their chaotic youngest member, Tae-min.

But beyond his stage presence, Tae-min carried another identity: once known as Timothy Drake Wayne, born and raised in Gotham and adopted son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. For years, that fact was trivia for international fans. By late August, however, it became the center of a spiraling scandal that has shifted from a contractual dispute into what now resembles a full-fledged criminal case.

Background: From Idol Success to Contractual Dispute

Concerns over Eclipse’s treatment under StarPathway Entertainment erupted after Tae-min’s twentieth birthday. During Japan promotions, he was repeatedly scheduled for solo events despite visible illness and exhaustion. Fan reports and leaked staff accounts revealed instances of him performing with high fever, denied medical rest, and separated from his group members.

The deeper fans and journalists dug, the more troubling allegations surfaced: Labor exploitation through punishing and unsafe schedules; Negligence in medical care, forcing members to work while ill or injured; Coercion and manipulation of personal identity for profit; Abuse, ranging from verbal harassment to physical violence and alleged sexual misconduct by staff or associates.

Contract Termination and Injunction

Upon Tae-min’s return to Seoul, Eclipse filed suit against StarPathway demanding: Termination of all exclusive contracts, ownership of their group name and label rights and compensation for damages related to exploitation and abuse.

The group immediately vacated their company dorms, citing unsafe conditions. At the heart of their case lies meticulous evidence gathered over five years by members —including logs, recordings, and staff testimonies. 

Within days, Judge Han Seong-woo granted a preliminary injunction, ruling there was “credible risk of continued harm” should the members remain bound to the agency during litigation, a fact that made clear that things were even more serious than we once thought.

Escalation: The Smear Campaign

StarPathway responded with a smear campaign that backfired spectacularly.

Defamation by implication: A Seoul columnist published insinuations about Bruce Wayne’s guardianship of Tae-min, portraying it as “unusual.” The column was traced to a company executive. Wayne Enterprises filed immediate lawsuits, the journalist was dismissed, and Gotham reacted with fury. Headlines read: “Corporate Predation Meets Gotham Wrath.”

Forced outings: Executives exposed the sexuality of members Kwan and Min-jae, while dredging up Min-jae’s traumatic family history—his father’s murder-suicide. Public outrage was swift. Additional lawsuits followed for privacy violations. The company was forced into a rare public apology under shareholder pressure.

Revelations of Abuse

The smear strategy collapsed further when the company attempted to frame Tae-min’s past as “unstable.” Leaked records revealed that, at sixteen, he was drugged by a StarPathway associate and nearly assaulted. The revelation triggered condemnation across media and human rights organizations.

Diana of Themyscira: “To weaponize the suffering of a child—of any child—is beyond shameful. This is not scandal. This is criminal.”

Other disturbing testimonies followed:

• Jiho fainting from exhaustion during training. 
• Min-jae secretly smuggling food to underfed trainees. 
• Seojin reporting physical abuse, and staff noting Tae-min’s recurring bruises. 
• Kwan enduring verbal harassment and sexually inappropriate comments. 
• Members being locked overnight in training rooms as punishment.

One confession caused particular uproar: a staff member admitted the company deliberately used Tae-min’s autism as a method of control, forcing him into damaging situations as punishment.

Mrs. Lee, long regarded as a maternal figure to the group, resigned from StarPathway and announced her own lawsuit. Her departure symbolized the internal collapse of the company’s credibility and severed the last ties between Eclipse and its management.

International Fallout

The scandal spread far beyond Korea.

In Gotham, press outlets treated the case as both a contractual issue and a human rights violation. Even Gotham’s underworld made online threats, vowing to “fly to Seoul” if necessary.
Across the idol industry, artists from other agencies posted cryptic but unmistakable statements condemning StarPathway’s practices and heroes like Superman publicly expressed solidarity with the group .

Legal Framing Going Forward

Legal experts note that the breadth of evidence, particularly Min-jae’s systematic documentation, gives Eclipse unusual leverage. Korean courts have grown more receptive to unfair contract and abuse claims, but the group’s demand for full intellectual property rights over their name, branding, and discography could set historic precedent.

Professor of Entertainment Law (Yonsei University):
“If successful, Eclipse v. StarPathway will go further than the GOT7. The documentation here is unprecedented. Ironically, the company’s smear tactics have only strengthened Eclipse’s claims for damages.”

Conclusion

What began as whispers about mistreatment after a birthday has erupted into a global scandal, with implications reaching beyond K-pop into the very structure of entertainment law.

Fans now call it “The Documentation Era.” Lawyers describe it as “the trial that could redefine Korean entertainment.”

For Eclipse, it remains profoundly personal. After a leaked video showed Tae-min whispering “They don’t even let me call my sister” , one fan summarized the global mood:

“This is no longer about idols. This is about people. And people deserve to be free.”

---

Reddit Thread: r/kpop

[HOT] Gotham Gazette just dropped the full Eclipse vs. StarPathway timeline – holy sh*t

u/moonphasefan:
The part about Tae-min nearly being assaulted at 16… I feel like I’m going to throw up.

u/legalidol:
Honestly, the injunction being granted that fast says everything. Korean judges don’t usually side against big companies unless the evidence is airtight.

u/WayneWatch:
That “corporate predation meets Gotham wrath” headline has me SCREAMING. Like, who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to come after Bruce Wayne??

u/minjaestudies:
Eclipse really documented everything . This isn’t just a win for them — if they get IP rights, it will change how idol contracts work forever.

---

Weibo

[Top Comments]
“They called this the Documentation Era for a reason. Five years of survival notes turned into weapons. That’s how you bring down a giant.”

“Respect to Eclipse. Some of us can’t speak yet, but we’re watching. Thank you for opening the door.”

#EclipseForever
#JusticeForTaeMin
#ProtectMinJae
#EndSlaveContracts
#DocumentationEra

---

 Breaking Headlines

"Eclipse’s Tae-min Ordered Back to Agency Under Meta Regulations"

The company cites an outdated clause of the “Meta Employment Control Act,” which allows corporations to retain guardianship over classified as “meta” beings. Critics argue the law strips meta youth of basic human rights.

"Is Tae-min Property of the Agency?"

Outrage as documents reveal clauses comparing metas to “assets,” not individuals.

"Bruce Wayne is seen in Seoul"

Media speculation swirls: Is Bruce Wayne intervening?  

"Amazon Intervention? Rumors Swirl About Diana Prince’s Involvement"

Leaks suggest Princess Diana invoked Themysciran law to shield Tae-min.

---

@Justice4Metas: “You’re telling me a PERSON can be forced into slavery because he’s meta?? This is unconstitutional.” 🔥🔥🔥 #FreeTaeMin

@EclipseFanbaseIntl: “He looked so small leaving the courthouse in the van… #LetHimGo”

@MetaRightsWatch : “This is exactly why the Meta Employment Act should have been repealed years ago. We’re watching corporate trafficking live.”

---

"Wonder Woman Declares: ‘He Is My Son’"

Diana Prince held a press conference where she confirmed she had formally adopted Tae-min under Themysciran law.
“No corporation owns him. No government can buy him. He is a citizen of Themyscira, and he is my child.”

[Top comments]

“THE MOTHER WE ALL NEED 😭👑 #MamaDiana”
“Themyscira law?? Did she just UNO-reverse the entire legal system???”
“Every meta kid watching this just felt seen for the first time.”

---

 The UN Session

Today Wonder Woman entered the UN chamber with Batman and Superman at her side. Cameras flashed. Outside, protesters hold signs: “Metas Are Not Property”, “Justice for Tae-min”. 

During the emergency vote, the “Meta Employment Control Act” was struck down after fiery debates, in a historic move,  Meta Rights were recognized at the UN Assembly.

---

 A video trends worldwide:
  Tae-min running down the steps of the UN building, breaking free of handlers, sprinting straight into Diana’s arms. Cass runs crying and pulls him into the hug. Reporters shout. People cry.

Twitter captions:

“THE way he ran… like a kid finally safe 😭😭 #FreeTaeMin #MetasAreHuman”

“History just happened in front of us.”

“Look at Cass holding his face so gently, I’m sobbing.”

---

 Live Broadcast – United Nations Assembly, Geneva

Tae-min walks to the podium. He’s smaller than the marble columns that loom behind him, dwarfed by the flags of nations, but when he speaks, the silence is absolute. His voice carries, steady, deliberate, sharper than any politician’s rehearsed rhetoric.

Tae-min’s Speech:

“It seems history always repeats itself in the worst ways. Not so long ago, there were people who were sold, chained, treated as property. We called it slavery. The world swore it would never happen again. Yet here we stand, with laws written to turn people like me into objects.

When you strip freedom from someone because of how they were born, what are you saying? That we are not human? That our lives are tools to be used, broken, and discarded?

This week, I have been called ‘it’ . Not a boy, not a son, not a human being. ‘It.’ By men who once swore to protect me when I was sixteen and under their responsibility. By people who thought they could erase my name, my voice, my future with one clause in one book of law.

Let me be clear. We are not your property.

We are not tools to be locked in vaults, to be deployed when convenient, to be silenced when inconvenient. We are sons. We are daughters. We are classmates, neighbors, friends. We are alive. We are human.

And if a law cannot see us as human—then it is not law. It is tyranny printed on paper.

I know I am one of the lucky ones. I have a family that will fight for me until the end of time. But some children are not as lucky. Some are in cages right now. Sold, hidden, forgotten. They are our responsibility. All of us. And we have failed them.

That ends today.

My name is Tae-min. And I refuse to be your property. I am free. And every child deserves the same.

Stay strong. We see you. We hear you. Help is coming.”

He steps back. There’s no applause at first—just silence, heavy and electric. Then the chamber erupts, not in polite claps but in thunder, voices rising, cameras flashing, the sound of a shift no one can undo.

---

“The Boy Who Changed the Law: Tae-min’s UN Speech Sparks Global Debate on Meta Rights”   THE GUARDIAN   

“Wonder Woman’s Son? Diana Confirms Themysciran Adoption Amid Contract Scandal” NEW YORK TIMES  

  “K-Pop Star to Advocate Meta Rights: Tae-min’s Case Leads to Historic UN Vote” THE KOREA HERALD

" Justice League Intervenes: Meta Rights Law Overturned After International Outcry” CNN Breaking News 

Social Media 

@hero_watchdog: Bruh… the company tried to claim legal ownership of a person using a 40-year-old unconstitutional meta law. They really thought that would WORK??

@popfanforever: The video of him RUNNING into Diana and Cass’s arms??? I’ve cried ten times already. #LetTheBoyGo

@justice4metas : This isn’t just about Tae-min. There are hundreds of meta kids under contracts like this. The law HAD to go. He exposed it.

---

Private Chat – Encrypted Line

Oracle: Tell me the truth. Did you plan this? Did you bait the company into pulling that stupid move?

Birdie: I left them the breadcrumbs. If they were arrogant enough to take the bait, it’s their fault. The law needed to change anyway.

Oracle: Lmao. Hood was right, you’re doing side quests

Birdie: ¯\(ツ)/¯

Oracle: You’re not even a meta, kid. B was stressed.

Birdie: It’s not my fault they kept falling and making stupid moves.

---

HEADLINES

“We Are Not Your Property”: Tae-min Speech Sparks Global Uprising Against Meta Exploitation – BBC World

“Tyranny Printed on Paper”: UN Passes Emergency Resolution to Overturn Meta-Enslavement Laws – The Guardian

“Help is Coming”: Tae-min’s Call Triggers Historic Crackdown on Meta-Trafficking Rings – New York Times

Corporate Networks Exposed: Task Forces and Vigilantes Dismantle 47 Meta-Trafficking Cells Across 16 Countries in 48 Hours – Gotham Gazette

“We Prayed. He came.”: Survivors Rescued from South Asia to Eastern Europe, Children Freed – Al Jazeera

 

 Social Media 

@JusticeWatchdog : “ Meta-trafficking raids are happening WORLDWIDE. Tae-min’s speech wasn’t just words — it was a signal .”

@GothamCitizen84: “This is abolition 2.0. And it started with k-pop.”

 #WeSeeYou #HelpIsComing #NotProperty

---

The city never truly slept. Its heartbeat thrummed in the rusted belly of forgotten docks, where salt clung to iron and the wind carried secrets. In the suffocating dark of a steel container, a child pressed his forehead to cold walls and whispered a name.

His breath fogged in the gloom, voice trembling, as though the syllables themselves might split the shadows. One by one, the children joined him—fragile voices layering into a prayer, a hymn of desperation. Their words became a current in the silence, rising, falling, summoning.

Half a world away, on a midnight crossing in Asia, chains rattled against wood and water. Men and women lifted their eyes to the black ribbon of the river. Lips cracked by hunger shaped a forbidden word, smuggling it past clenched teeth. A name traded like contraband, like hope itself.

Above them, the wind carried it east, as though the night conspired with the desperate.

And then—an old radio crackled to life. Thin. Grainy. Alive.

“Stay strong. We see you. We hear you. Help is coming.”

The voice traveled far, threading through kitchens where mothers stilled their hands above boiling pots, pressing trembling fingers to their lips. It seeped into factories where workers straightened, spines stiffened by something brighter than fatigue. In a dim room, a bruised woman leaned closer to the speaker, eyes wet, whispering:

“Our god.”

The words repeated, steady, unyielding.Trafickers tried to turn off the radios, break it, but the voice kept coming, echoing eerily into the night.

“Stay strong. We see you. We hear you. Help is coming.”

Please. Someone whispered. Please.

And on a rooftop garden in Seoul, where city lights spilled like molten stars into the horizon, Gwidan sat cross-legged, still as a statue carved of shadow and moonlight. Beside him, Orphan leaned against his shoulder, grounding and guarding her brother as he let the god bleed into the cracks, shifting into all the different names called into the night.

Eyes closed, the boy breathed the pulse of the city. The prayer of the children. The whisper of chains. The trembling hope on cracked radios. The cries of the forgotten weaving into one living song.

His lips parted. His voice was almost a vow.

“I hear you.”

The shadows stirred, coiling around him like loyal beasts, folding over his shoulders until they became his mantle. For one suspended heartbeat, he sat between worlds—mortal and myth.

Then, with the silence of a blade sliding free, he was gone.

“Stay strong. We see you. We hear you. Help is coming.”

 

 

 

Notes:

Our boy is proactive, the life of a god.

 

Yes, Min-jae and Tae-min definitely have someone inside the company feeding them the worst ideas imaginable.

Kwan: How are you two so good at corporate espionage?
Tae-min: I’m my mother’s son.

(Later, Tae-min watching Min-jae shift people across the board like chess pieces.)
Tae-min: Are you sure…
Min-jae: My mother didn’t have a fling with Wayne.
Tae-min: …Okay. Just checking.

Lady Shiva: Cassandra, does your brother need to be rescued?
Cass: No. He is the danger.

Others: …What the actual—
Gotham, who knows exactly what Tae-min is doing: You’re doing amazing, sweetie.

Meanwhile, the entire population who has never even heard of K-pop reading the headlines right now:
Absolute chaos. They have no idea what’s happening, only that it’s wild.

Chapter 32: Breaking the wheel

Notes:

Tae-min, being a idol for five years and now breaking the system: I should have done it before, it's fun. Detective work.
The others looking at him as he prepare for the trials with Min-jae, giggling while Lucius Fox roll his eyes fondly, the trio making a dossier which will ruin a lot of lifes: At least he is having fun.

Lois is here and the result of the trials.

[Fanpost] A Complete Dossier on Eclipse (for all the new fans who got sucked in during the lawsuit chaos)
by u/moonchild

Okay, so with the trials starting today and Eclipse being literally everywhere, I thought I’d do all the new people a favor and put together a full dossier on the members. Because the last months were insane, and if you only learned about them from Tae-min’s UN speech, you’re probably confused.

Let’s go member by member:

Min-jae was born in Korea, the second eldest of Eclipse but their leader at twenty-nine. Everyone calls him their “old man,” and with reason: he’s tall, broad, the kind of guy who makes furniture look small, and has that steady, patient presence of someone you just trust. Everyone who’s ever worked with him calls him an “older brother”, protective, reliable, the dad of the group.

Kwan, though technically the eldest, two months older than Min-jae, never looks it. Born in Japan, with two older sisters, he grew up in a family of artists. Officially Eclipse’s visual, Kwan is much more than that, sharp-tongued, bossy, with a temper when pushed. The fandom jokes that he “birthed Tae-min” and lovingly calls him the group’s mom. When the company forcibly outed him and Min-jae, the two simply held hands and confirmed they were together. The parents of the group, best friends to lovers, forever.

Seojin, born in Malaysia but raised in Korea, he is an only child. He started as a child actor before training, and joined Eclipse a year before debut. Seojin has chaotic gremlin energy but he’s also a brilliant artist; his paintings are breathtaking, something fans always celebrate. In music, he’s the group’s main rapper, though really an all-rounder, with talent in everything. 

Jiho, half Indian and half Korean, grew up moving between both cultures. He has a younger sister he adores and mentions constantly. His entry into Eclipse came through a survival show, the very one where he debuted, and his voice made him the group’s main vocalist. He is considered the sweetest of the members, the group’s “heart.” 

And then, there is Tae-min, my bias, the chaos gremlin. Born Timothy Drake in Gotham, his mother was Korean, his father half-American, half-French. Tae-min is as Gothamite as they come: sharp, strange, proud of his city’s madness. He is also a Wayne kid. He debuted as an idol only three months after becoming a trainee, in what remains one of the most chaotic debuts ever. He’s a musical genius, blessed with perfect pitch, and plays everything: guitar, cello, piano, drums, violin, with violin being his favorite. He’s also the group’s main dancer, with six years of ballet training behind him. Recently, the company outed him as a meta during the lawsuit, confirming the rumors that had followed him since Eclipse’s comeback. Tae-min himself hasn’t said much about his powers, except that he thought they were “normal until he left Gotham.” And in true chaotic Tae-min fashion, he also came out as bisexual by accident on a podcast, quipping: “They outed me as a meta, but not as bisexual. Guess I should do that myself.” Instant legend.

Eclipse started as “just another boy group” and ended up changing the industry, toppling abusive practices, inspiring #MeToo in Asia, and turning into global icons for domestic abuse survivors, xenophobia, LGBTQ+ rights, and metahuman advocacy. No matter what happens at the trial, they already rewrote the game.

u/blackcoffeeidol:  Finally someone put everything together 😭 I got into Eclipse like… three weeks ago because of the trial and I’m already deep in the rabbit hole. Min-jae’s story actually broke me.

u/justiceleaguewatcher:  The wildest thing is: Tae-min’s UN speech sparked global raids. Whole trafficking rings in Europe, Asia, and South America are gone. One idol speech . That’s insane.

u/justicelawyer1980: Also insane: StarPathway trying to use unconstitutional meta laws to drag him back. Imagine thinking you can own a person.

u/whatisbalance:  Min-jae + Kwan being forced outed but then turning it into the LGBTQ+ symbol moment in K-pop… I can’t believe I’m alive to see this.

u/pizzalover77:  Tae-min when people ask about his powers: 😐 “lol idk thought it was normal. I’m from Gotham, you know.”

u/shipwarsbegun: People already shipped Tae with Supernova, but now it is Gwidam. They say he started saving metahumans for him. He is using his quote to save them.

u/batsightings:  No but seriously… Gothamites saying Red Robin and Gwidam are the same person… the evidence threads are WILD. Photos, silhouettes, fight style. People are drawing conspiracy maps.

u/chaosgremlinfan: Meta rights activists, kpop stans, and gotham vigilante conspiracy theorists in the SAME hashtag… what a timeline.

u/eclipselawyer: It’s so funny that eclipse fandom right now is partly worrying about the trial, others doing shipswars and some fighting with Gothamites about Red Robin and Gwidam being the same vigilante. It’s lovely to be here.

---

Headline

“Justice in Seoul: Eclipse Triumphs in Historic Trial Against StarPathway”

Comments:

@ ClarkKent: "Justice will not erase the scars. But it can send a message: that no stage, no spotlight, is worth a child’s safety."

@EclipseForever: "THEY WON. THEY ACTUALLY WON. "

@idolstanKR: "Not just a win for Eclipse but for EVERY trainee who was trapped in these contracts. Historic."

---

The Eclipse Trial: How Five Young Idols Shook an Industry, and the World

By Lois Lane, Special Correspondent, Seoul

Nine months ago, few could have imagined that the lawsuit filed by Eclipse, a five-member South Korea–based group, would ignite the cultural reckoning we now witness. After three months of proceedings in Seoul’s Central District Court, the verdict was read today, in favour of the group. And with their victory, the world is no longer watching simply for the music: it is watching the transformation of an industry.

It began quietly, with whispers of misconduct that were dismissed as rumor. Online, fans raised concerns about mistreatment, but nothing was confirmed until a leaked video from a promotion in Japan cracked the façade wide open. From that moment, a history of abuse and exploitation came to light, and people could no longer close their eyes to the destructive side of the Korean idol system.

One of the darkest threads in the case involved allegations that later grew into one of the largest criminal investigations in the industry’s history, ensnaring not just staff but stars and executives from multiple companies.

Sexual harassment in entertainment is not new. What is new, what has always been taboo, is when men step forward as victims. For Kwan, a Japanese member of Eclipse, the harassment began when he was still a teenager. He came to Korea at fourteen and waited ten years for his debut. Old videos of him as a boy now carry comments that, in hindsight, reveal the constant sexualization he endured. Within the company, the harassment was relentless.

Tae-min, the youngest, was sixteen when he debuted. Only months later, he was drugged and nearly assaulted. The trial revealed some details, but many remain unknown. What we do know is that the stories of Kwan and Tae-min shattered the silence. Their decision to come forward ignited something larger.

Their courage tore open the walls of silence surrounding abuse in the entertainment industry. What began as a local scandal became a pan-Asian #MeToo wave, with idols and trainees in Japan, China, and Thailand speaking publicly for the first time. Names poured forward. Secrets, once thought untouchable, spilled into the light.

The violence they endured did not stop at harassment. Kwan and Min-jae were forcibly outed, their relationship turned into fodder for tabloids. Instead of hiding, they stood together. Today, they are symbols of LGBTQ+ visibility in an industry that once denied such existence. Rainbow flags now wave openly at concerts across Asia, a sight unthinkable a year ago.

Min-jae also chose to reveal his family’s history of domestic violence. His advocacy has sparked national debate in South Korea, prompting discussions on laws, shelters, and resources for survivors. His testimony gave a voice to those who had lived too long in silence.

Seojin and Jiho, often quieter in the media storm, spoke powerfully against the xenophobia embedded in the K-pop system. Their words resonated not only with international fans but also with young idols from multicultural backgrounds who finally felt seen.

For years Tae-min was an advocate about mental health and participated in many campaigns. Already a figure of fascination for his artistry and enigmatic history, he was unwillingly outed as a “metahuman” in a failed attempt to control him and derail the lawsuit. Instead, he turned the revelation into history. His speech at the United Nations sparked global momentum for metahuman rights. Today, demonstrations against trafficking and discrimination are happening on every continent.

About his powers, little is publicly known. Tae-min is discreet, but he does not deny it. Instead, he meets the subject with sharp wit. On a podcast, he quipped: “They outed me as a meta, but not as bisexual. Guess I should do that myself.” With that, he came out to the world, on his own terms. Reports later confirmed that since the age of sixteen, he has quietly funded and operated a center for LGBTQ+ youth in Gotham, along with shelters, scholarships, and projects for children in vulnerable situations.

When asked why, he smiled faintly: “It’s not totally altruistic, you know? I see myself in them. In some ways, I’m helping myself.”

In helping himself, he is helping the world. As one fan told me outside the courthouse: “The industry’s been rotting for years. Everyone knew, but no one could fight it. Then Tae-min showed up, this kid who’s been fighting his whole damn life. For him, resistance isn’t a choice, it’s just breathing. And that’s why he did what no one else could. He broke the wheel.”

The Road Ahead

The Eclipse Trial lasted three months, an unusually swift process given the international scope of the crimes: abuse, human rights violations, and meta discrimination laws. Legally, the ruling returned full ownership of their stage names, likeness, and creative works to the five members. Their exclusive contracts with the company were declared invalid due to fraud, coercion, and abuse of power. The court also granted them injunctions preventing the company or its subsidiaries from using the name Eclipse or profiting from their past work without consent. Significant damages were awarded for breach of duty of care, lost earnings, and emotional harm, compensation that, while historic, may never fully account for what they endured.

Most strikingly, the verdict did not stop at civil liability. Parallel criminal proceedings, sparked by evidence surfaced during the trial, led to the prosecution of multiple executives and staff. Charges included forced labor, fraud, and obstruction of justice. What was once whispered as rumor was confirmed in court as systemic exploitation.

It ended in favor of the members, but the story does not close here. The industry will resist; power structures rarely fall easily.

And yet, standing outside the courthouse in Seoul, surrounded by fans, activists, and journalists from across the globe, one truth is undeniable: Eclipse has already changed the rules of the game as the world watched a k-pop group trial with held breath. 

They wanted to silence them. Instead, they handed them a microphone. And Eclipse did not whisper: They screamed.

And the world is still listening.

---

The Fall of a Giant: StarPathway Sold 

By Vicki Vale, Gotham Gazette

What happens to a company once hailed as a titan of the Korean entertainment industry when the façade crumbles? The answer is written in numbers, headlines, and empty boardrooms.

Since the conclusion of the Eclipse trial three weeks ago, StarPathway Entertainment’s stock has collapsed by more than 80%. Lawsuits continue to pile up, shareholders have fled, and one by one, the executives responsible for years of abuse and cover-ups have either resigned or been escorted away in handcuffs. What remains of the company is a hollow shell of offices, tarnished logos, and an industry eager to distance itself from the name.

Enter Wayne Enterprises.

Yesterday, in a move that stunned both Seoul and Gotham, Wayne Enterprises announced its acquisition of StarPathway’s remaining assets. The deal included its music catalog, facilities, and international contracts. The price tag, though undisclosed, is rumored to be a fraction of what the company was once worth, a fire sale following reputational ruin.

Lucius Fox, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and one of the lawyers who advised Eclipse during the trial, spoke at a press conference in Seoul:

“Mr. Wayne has long considered expanding into South Korea, particularly in creative industries. The Eclipse trial revealed deep structural abuses but also highlighted extraordinary talent and global demand. We believe this is an opportunity not only for investment, but for transformation.”

Transformation may be the official line. But in Gotham, we know how Bruce Wayne moves.

This is personal.

StarPathway wasn’t just an industry villain, it was the place that abused his once adopted son. Timothy Drake Wayne, better known now by Tae-min, was dragged through hell under that company’s roof. Wayne didn’t just buy out a disgraced entertainment empire, he dismantled it, brick by brick, and rebuilt the narrative on his terms.

So yes, Mr. Wayne may say this is about market expansion, about new opportunities and economic growth. But as I stood in that Seoul press room and watched the quiet fire in his eyes, I couldn’t help but think: this wasn’t just business. This was vengeance disguised as capitalism. A father’s way of fighting for the son he lost, and perhaps trying to win him back.

Time will tell if Tae-min sees it that way.

For now, one thing is certain: StarPathway Entertainment no longer exists. In its place rises Wayne Entertainment Korea, with promises of transparency, fair treatment, and a future shaped not by exploitation, but by accountability. Whether it succeeds or not, history will remember who delivered the final blow.

It proves to the world that you should choose your battles carefully, especially if your enemy is a Wayne, by blood or by name.

 

Social Media:

@GothamSnark: people from gotham have no chill 

@BatStan92: You should not hurt a Bruce Wayne baby, dulled notted. 

@memegotham: Bruce Wayne buying the company that hurt his son is PEAK petty rich dad energy.

@lawnerdKR: man, mrs lee is now the represented, this loser man is really trying hard to groove for his son 😂

@idoltea: For Tae-min or not, I’m just happy that he is helping the idols who still have contracts with the company, giving them the chance to choose to stay or not without penalty.

@catseye: Gotham journalists are so messy… calling it “vengeance disguised as capitalism” is WILD.

@financegeek: The way Wayne turned corporate revenge into market expansion… iconic.

@rooftopgossip: I’m laughing so hard right now, Gotham has been calling this for months . He really did it, mad Brucie. Respect.

 

Notes:

Bruce’s eyes lingered on Tae-min, with sad eyes: I did good, right?

The other Wayne kids groaning in unison: He’s flying to Korea every week now. Poor Tae.

Also, inside the courtroom, the gallery looked more like a TV drama than a trial: Bruce, Diana, Lois, Clark, Vicki Vale and Constantine.

Constantine was shameless, throwing flirty comments at both Bruce and Diana, while Bruce and Diana subtly fought over “dad rights.” Lois teased Clark about Bruce being his “other woman,” which only encouraged Constantine to start hitting on Clark and Lois in the same breath. Lois shot a grin Diana’s way and tossed in a flirt of her own. Clark, straight-faced, leaned over to murmur something to Bruce about being Tae-min’s father-in-law, which earned him the glare of the century.

Meanwhile, Tae-min rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck, ducking behind Lucius Fox, or squeezing himself between Min-jae and Kwan like a kid hiding from embarrassing relatives.

Vicki, pen scratching furiously across her notebook, sighed to herself. "How many people in this hall has Bruce actually slept with? And does the number include me?"

Chapter 33: Target

Summary:

There were monsters out there that hated when people felt hope.

Notes:

Shit is about to go down.

If someone had said that one day Gotham and Seoul would be so deeply entangled that one couldn’t speak of one without the other, they’d have been called insane. Yet somehow, it happened. Quietly at first, then all at once.

People blinked, and there they were: Gotham’s masked vigilantes sighted in Seoul’s alleys, a new Wayne Enterprises branch with a giant “W” burning against the city skyline, and Wayne family members appearing in the media as if they had always belonged there. Damian Wayne trailing after his older brother, half guard dog, half worshipper, became such a familiar sight that fans joked about him being part of Eclipse’s security team. Duke Thomas was suddenly hanging out with K-pop idols and filming TikTok challenges like it was the most natural thing in the world. Dick Grayson was seen talking with Min-jae and Kwan more than once, barely tolerated by their expressions, but smiling nonetheless.

Meanwhile, back in Gotham, Koreatown was thriving like never before. Shelters and youth programs multiplied, and people began moving closer to its borders in search of a better life. Crime rates were falling, slowly but noticeably. Even the air felt cleaner.

It was no longer unusual to see Gwidam’s silhouette flicker across rooftops or reflected in windows, enough that people joked there must be an “exchange program” for heroes between Gotham and Seoul.

Everyone knew the reason.
It all began with him.

Since that famous trial almost a year ago, everything had changed. The path had been brutal. You couldn’t challenge a system built to consume people like them without bleeding for it. And yet, somehow, Eclipse survived.

Of course, their rebellion came with consequences. The industry thrived on control, and Eclipse had shattered that illusion. The fact that they had prepared meticulously for years before the lawsuit only made them more dangerous. Blacklists were inevitable, but by then, it was too late. Eclipse was no longer just a Korean phenomenon; it was global. For every door slammed in their faces, another opened wider.

In Gotham, no one believed the official line about Wayne Enterprises expanding overseas. To them, it was obvious. Bruce Wayne was making sure the world never forgot whose son Tae-min was, no matter how complicated things looked between them.

Gotham’s vigilantes had been sighted in Korea before, but in the months after the trial, their presence became almost routine. No one dared question it too loudly. Everyone understood what it meant. Tae-min might have left Gotham physically, but he was still part of its heartbeat.

His social initiatives had grown, reshaping neighborhoods, redirecting donations, and pushing for meta-human legislation reforms. His fame had become a weapon, one he used for the city that had raised him.

To Gotham, he wasn’t just a singer. He was theirs.
And no one, not even an entire industry, would risk crossing a city that guarded its own so fiercely.

Now, nearly a year later, things were finally stabilizing. Eclipse was preparing for its long-awaited comeback as an independent group. Fans buzzed with anticipation. The media hovered, curious and hungry.

And Gotham was watching most closely.

People from other cities mocked it endlessly. Gotham, of all places, obsessed with a boy band? With a singer? They didn’t understand. They hadn’t seen the way Gotham itself seemed to breathe easier because of him, the way the hopeless had started to believe again.

They didn’t see that Tae-min was rebuilding things from the roots up, in Gotham, in Seoul, on the global stage of meta-human rights.
He was proof that things could change.
That even from Gotham’s darkness, light could rise.

And that was exactly why people worried.
Because those who changed the world became targets.
There were monsters out there that hated when people felt hope.

---

The whispers began quietly.

Lady Shiva sent word to Cassandra that a bounty had been placed on Tae-min’s head. She was already in Seoul, watching from the shadows.
Slade Wilson contacted Nightwing, warning him that someone was hunting his “little brother.”
Talia al Ghul called Damian, suggesting he pay his brother a visit.
Constantine was seen with Gwidam constantly now.
Diana was practically living in Seoul.

People wanted Tae-min the idol and activist dead. Others wanted the meta as theirs. Some wanted the new god that the power within him had made visible, drawn to it like a beacon, a challenge, or an invitation.

He was being hunted down on all sides.

“You don’t look scared,” Kon whispered one night, holding him close in their quiet apartment in France. He hadn’t left Tae-min’s side since the news spread. He couldn’t risk it, even if Tae-min didn’t seem bothered at all.
“No,” Tae-min admitted softly. “Not for me.”

---

Kwan woke to the faint clatter of dishes and the smell of toasted bread. For a fleeting second, his mind tricked him into thinking he was back in the dorms, with one of the staff sneaking breakfast into the chaos of their trainee mornings. But the soft hum drifting from the kitchen wasn’t a staff member. It was Min-jae.

He found him exactly as expected: already dressed, hair damp from an early shower, steam curling faintly around his temples. He stood at the stove with his usual calm, sipping tea like some dignified old man while something sizzled in the pan.

Kwan padded barefoot across the polished wood floor, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around him. He slipped his arms around Min-jae’s waist from behind and pressed his forehead against his shoulder.
“You’re up early,” he murmured.
Min-jae chuckled, low and warm, setting the cup aside. “Says the one who hasn’t been sleeping.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t easy either. Both knew why. For years, since they were barely fourteen, they had lived in survival mode. A missed beat in choreography once meant slaps, punishments, humiliation. They had done what they could to shield the younger trainees as they grew older, but it had never been enough. The dorm walls had absorbed too much violence, and even now, far removed from those days, their bodies remembered.

Kwan pressed his forehead more firmly against Min-jae’s back, as if anchoring himself. “It’s over now.”
“Is it?” Min-jae signed with a flicker of his hand, his voice steady but sharp. “Some part of me is still waiting for the retaliation.”

Kwan’s grip tightened.

If he had to describe the last year in one word, it would be chaos.

Months after Eclipse’s historic victory, life had begun to settle, at least on the surface. Now independent, the group rebuilt their circle with the same staff who had once raised them inside the company. Some of those adults had been fired for daring to protect them; others had stayed silent to survive, only to later walk away during the lawsuit so they could testify on the boys’ behalf. Those people were anchors, steady hands that had kept Eclipse afloat through years of quiet war. They were also the reason it had taken five long years for Tae-min and Min-jae to finally break.

Mrs. Lee remained by their side, now working as a consultant for the newly founded Wayne Entertainment, led by Tamara Fox. Another attempt at reconciliation from the Waynes, Kwan was sure, seeing how Tamara seemed to adore Tae-min and how his smile toward her spoke of the same feeling.

Alongside Mrs. Lee, Min-jae and Kwan shouldered new responsibilities in management. It was grueling, foreign work, but no one was surprised by how naturally they adapted. They had already spent years raising the younger members, teaching, protecting, holding everything together when no one else would. Leadership wasn’t new to them; only the title had changed.

Enemies came with it. Enemies powerful enough to blacklist them, especially in Korea. But for every enemy, they gained allies.

The loudest was Princess Diana.

It was unprecedented: a Justice League founder stepping forward as patron to a K-pop group. Until recently, idols and heroes had lived in parallel worlds that never touched. Then Tae-min closed the gap, and everything shifted. When reporters pressed Diana, her response was direct and unshakable: “This is not just about music anymore.”

“We’re not alone anymore,” Kwan reminded softly.

Min-jae didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and pressed a quick kiss to Kwan’s temple. “Literally. Tae-min’s on the sofa.”

Kwan blinked, startled, then laughed. “What?”
“I woke up in the middle of the night, and there he was. Guess some things don’t change. Everyone ends up crashing at our place.”

The dorm days were technically over, but the habit lingered. Seojin had his own apartment, immediately dragging Jiho with him. Min-jae and Kwan lived together now, but their apartment rarely stayed quiet. The others drifted in like tidewater until it felt as if the dorm had never ended.

Kwan smiled. Some habits died hard, and truthfully, he didn’t mind. They had raised those boys as much as the staff had raised them. Family wasn’t a word they used lightly, but it fit.

Though he worried about Tae-min. At first, they assumed he declined living with them because he was seeing Cass, but they discovered he wasn’t, and he refused to say where he was staying. He joked about it, claiming he was always around anyway, but Kwan knew something was wrong.

Min-jae leaned down, lips brushing Kwan’s in a kiss that tasted faintly of tea. Kwan smiled into it. He remembered every stolen kiss between rehearsals and after shows, the fear that discovery could ruin their careers and drag their friends down with them.

Things were different now. They were openly together. Backlash was inevitable; idols were still expected to be single, and queerness remained taboo. To them, the uproar was absurd, as if happiness were a crime. But they stood firm. They were discreet, yes, but not hiding. Halos closed ranks around them, fiercely protective, and their international fanbase was too large and too loyal to be shaken. Within months, other idols began to come out. Maybe in solidarity, maybe because someone had finally shown survival was possible.

“I don’t regret anything,” Min-jae whispered, eyes soft. “Even if we’re public enemy number one.”
“Neither do I.”

They kissed again.

“Ew.”

They startled apart as Tae-min sat up on the couch, hair a mess, blanket sliding to the floor. He rubbed his eyes and scowled like a grumpy cat.
“Something’s burning, hyung.”

Kwan muffled his laugh in his cup of coffee while Tae-min shuffled into the kitchen, still half-asleep. Watching him and Min-jae side by side always amused him. Their faces mirrored each other: the same sharp lines, the same resting expression that looked intimidating on Min-jae but downright adorable on Tae. They even moved alike, sipping tea like old men despite Tae being only twenty.

“What are you laughing at, hyung?” Tae asked with a pout.
“Nothing. Are you hiding from Wayne here again?”

Tae-min’s ears turned red as he signed, “He’s at Cass’s again, hovering.”
“No brothers this week?” Kwan teased.

Since his trips to Korea had become frequent, Wayne often dragged along Damian or Duke as buffers. Tae seemed to adore them both. Duke was pure-hearted and gentle, easily folded into their practice sessions. Damian, at sixteen and nearly as tall as Min-jae, was reserved, but he shadowed his older brother like a bodyguard, glaring at anyone who looked at Tae for too long. Tae pretended to be annoyed, but Kwan knew better. He had even introduced Damian to Seojin, knowing the boy loved art. The two bonded instantly, despite opposite personalities.

Kwan suspected Damian carried regrets about the years spent at odds with his brother, about finding closeness too late. He followed Tae-min like he was tracing the path back to the heart he had missed. It was almost painful to watch. Tae could see Damian’s affection clearly, but Damian himself was too awkward to admit it. They’d get there. Until then, Seojin was openly happy to have someone new to talk about art.

“They are busy.” Tae answered his question. “Dami and Duke have tests this week.”

“And the annoying one?” Min-jae grumbled. “He is around a lot now.”

Dick Grayson, for some reason, had decided to hover around him and Min-jae. The man was a menace, and Kwan couldn’t quite understand his insistence on being around them or how it came to this. Tae-min would just shrug when asked and say he was a fan.

At first, Kwan felt a little pity for the man, who would ask little things about Tae-min with sad eyes, saying he was respecting his space and waiting for permission to come around. It didn’t explain why he would do that around them. And then he would start flirting and Kwan wanted to strangle him. 

Min-jae was annoyed too, he could tell, but he was also observing. He would look at Grayson or the other Waynes sometimes,  thoughtful and silent. Once Grayson joked that he could be Bruce’s kid  with this expression, but Kwan noticed that he was wary of Min-jae at the moment.

Min-jae noticed things Kwan missed. He was like Tae-min in this. 

“He should be around.” Tae-min sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Hyunwoo texted me to talk about the new administration, Tam is being a badass as always. Their comeback will be soon.”

He started to chat endlessly, changing the subject. 

Min-jae looked at him from across the table, communicating with him wordless. Should we ask?

Tae-min omitted a lot. But when they ask, he has a tendency to tell the truth. Just to them, the liar he was.

He had the feeling he would tell, but they didn’t aks.

It was a mistake not to.

---

Sooner than they expected, they understood why Tae-min had refused to stay in one place since the trial. Why, even though the group fought to remain together, he always kept his distance. Rotating between Min-jae and Kwan’s apartment, staying with Seojin and Jiho, but never long enough to be traced. No one, apart from Kon and Cass, knew where he truly lived.

They were being guarded. Followed by Waynes. Grayson with them, Damian with Seojin and Jiho, Cass working with them as a dance instructor.
They were being protected. For Tae-min.

When they finally had their answer after all those years, seeing the vigilante bleeding beneath their little brother’s identity, they also knew why they hadn’t forced the truth out of him before.

To know meant danger. There was no coming back from it.

It had been inevitable that one day they would find out. The only reason they hadn’t yet was because they didn’t want to. They trusted Tae-min to have his reasons. But now, as the truth came to light in fire and chaos, Kwan couldn’t help thinking they should have asked sooner. Tae-min had only been waiting for them to ask.

Maybe if they had, it wouldn’t have ended like this.
Him dying while watching the kid he had raised breaking apart. 

---

The attack came during a music festival in China.

Open air. Tens of thousands of fans crushed shoulder to shoulder. Eclipse wasn’t performing that night; they were there to promote their comeback and support Nebula’s set. The lights blazed, the stage shook, and the world pulsed with bass and screams.

Then came the laughter.

Metallic. Sharp. Wrong.

It tore through the speakers, a sound so out of place it made the air itself twist, followed by the first explosion.

Gotham would know that laughter. It meant danger. It meant death.

Smoke swallowed the stage. Panic erupted. People ran, tripping, shouting names that vanished in the roar. And then, through the chaos, a single figure moved against the current.

Witnesses claimed Tae-min had been on stage one moment and in the crowd the next. Others swore they saw his eyes flash gold beneath the lights, smoke and debris swirling around him as he shielded people from the blast.

Some who should have died didn’t. Some who were crushed walked away whole.
Miracles, they said.

And when the news reached Gotham, no one was surprised. Worried? Yes. Because there must be a price to something like this. A price their little god would pay.

But not suprised.

They knew how monsters like Joker hated hope. 

And he crossed the ocean to destroy theirs. 

Notes:

Yeah, Tae-min is not worried about himself.
But Joker should worry, because he just hunted in a god's ground and is about to became a cautionay tale for it.

Chapter 34: The God under the Bridge

Summary:

Tae-min’s Longest Night.

Notes:

Or how Tae-min's change idol industry again, but not in a fun way.

Some warning for this chapter at the end of the chapter, because of spoilers.

It was like a switch being thrown inside him.

The first explosion shook the riverside boulevard, the shockwave rolling through the festival tents and scattering light and sound like broken glass. Tae-min staggered back, and in the haze of dust and screams he felt Kwan grab his wrist, pulling him toward the service exit.

“We need to go,” Kwan said, voice tight. “They are getting everyone out.”

“I can’t.” Tae-min pulled his hand free. “It is my duty.”

More screams. Sirens rising. The sky over Shanghai’s Pudong district was already filling with smoke.

Nightwing vaulted over a collapsed railing, herding idols and staff toward the armored vans. His eyes fell on Tae-min, who stood frozen in the middle of chaos.

“What are you doing, kid? We have to move.” Min-jae grabbed his shoulder, trying to push him toward safety.

“It is not my place to run,” Tae-min whispered.

“It is.” Kwan stepped in front of him, lifted a hand to his cheek. He looked terrified, like he already knew the truth. “Please, Tae, come with me. Don’t do this.”

“You know I can’t.” Tae-min’s voice shook, and Min-jae’s hand trembled at his shoulder. “They need Gwidam.”

The shadows behind him rippled like dark water. They curled around his ankles, climbed his spine, whispered to him with the voices of the terrified. Prayers. Pleas. The soft resignation of the injured. All calling for help.

“I am sorry,” Tae-min whispered to their wide eyes. “Nightwing, protect them for me.”

He was not sure if Nightwing nodded or if that was only the shadows shifting. Min-jae shouted his name. Kwan reached for him again. Jiho cried. Seojin pushed through bodies, desperate to follow.

Then the switch pulled inside him.

The prayers were too many, too loud. Grief in Mandarin, Korean, English, all overlapping. A second bomb erupted across the Huangpu River near the Garden Bridge. The shock rippled through the city like a shiver.

All because of him.

All because someone had come hunting for him.

The god rose inside him. Not the gentle one who soothed dreams and protected children. Not the soft one who healed.

This version was sharp and cold, born of blood and reckoning.

It was his time to hunt.

---

They were stretched thin, even with Tae-min’s preparations.

Oracle filled their ears with updates. Red Robin’s old protocols had been updated with local maps and escape routes through Shanghai alleys. Supernova arrived at the first collapsed building with the other members of Young Justice, pulling survivors from rubble. The Titans split across the city searching for secondary devices.

“It is coordinated,” Oracle said. “Too clean to be the clown.”

Constantine felt the wards in the air. Heavy. Shifting. Alive. Tae-min’s presence was everywhere, woven into the very breath of the city.

“Someone used him,” Constantine muttered. “They knew it would tear him apart.”

Orphan appeared at his side, silent. 

“We can’t find him,” Bruce said. Not Batman. Bruce. The fear in his voice cracked through the comms.

“He is everywhere, that is why,” Constantine snapped.  “Fuck. Listen, love. You have to stop the kid. Even my wards cannot contain this if he keeps going. There will be consequences.”

“Maybe that is what they want,” Diana said through the comms. Her tone was grave. “This is bigger than we thought.”

“Why?” Bruce asked.

Constantine lit his hands, feeling the pull of Tae-min’s presence. “Because he stops being a challenge when he hides. They want the god out.”

---

Every prayer reached him. Every cry that should have ended in death shifted toward survival. Steel moved away from trapped bodies. Falling rubble froze before touching children. The bombs were found and disabled one by one. Attackers were captured or knocked unconscious.

It should have ended.

Nobody breathed.

Tae-min found him near a market street at the foot of the Waibaidu Bridge. The Joker’s laughter echoed off steel and old brick, thin and broken. He fired into the air, tearing apart stalls. People screamed and scattered.

The shadows recoiled from him.

Death clung to the clown like a second skin.

Bodies lay bleeding on the pavement. Others hid under tables, whispering prayers.

Then someone stepped between them and the monster.

A young man.

Hair white as frost.

Golden lines spiraling across his skin like threads of myth.

He did not rise from the ground or appear from the sky. He simply manifested, born from the fear and need around him.

“Tae-min.”
“Oh my god, it is him.”
“Kid, run. Please,” an old man begged.

Joker’s henchmen faltered. The young man stood relaxed, hands open, eyes unreadable.

The clown giggled, a metallic sound scraping the air.

“Oh, you are pretty. Are you their little singer? They talk a lot about you.”

He raised his gun.

Tae-min did not move.

“So loved. So very loved. And a little hero. It’s a pity.”

The bullet tore through the air.

It melted to smoke an inch from the boy’s chest.

Silence fell. Joker faltered, anger twisting his face, even with his smile.

“You are not funny.”

No one saw him move. They blinked, and Tae-min already stood before the Joker.

His voice was soft. Only two words.

“Jack Napier.”

For the first time, Joker did not laugh.

---

Jason found them, like it was fate himself to make him see it, the end of the monster who haunts him.

Red Hood froze when he saw the scene.

Joker was kneeling, tears running down his face, hands trembling as they touched Tae-min’s feet. He whispered a name again and again.

“Jeannie. Jeannie. I am sorry.”

No one moved. Even the wounded stared.

Joker lifted his gun with a shaking hand.

“Would she forgive me? For what I did?”

Tae-min said nothing. He watched with the calm of a god offering final mercy. Or execution.

The monster’s face contorted in grief, like he knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness. It was unsettling, seeing this  kind of emotion on the monster that only knew cruelty. 

Before he could ponder it and interfere, the trigger had been pulled. By the Joker. On himself.

Jason froze, arm lifted without knowing why. All around people were frozen, like they didn’t know what had happened so suddenly. Some didn't even breathe..

Then Jason whispered in morbid fascination.

“What did you do?” 

Tae-min finally looked away. His expression was serene.

“What does the insane fear the most?” His voice was distant. “I returned it to him.”

Sanity. Remorse.

Jason let out a breath that almost became a laugh. If he allowed himself to think, he would break.

People started moving. Some clapped. Some cried. Phones rose into the air.

Tae-min suddenly tensed. His head snapped to the right.

“No,” he whispered.

Jason stepped forward. “What is it?”

Tae-min’s eyes widened with terror.

And he vanished.

---

The air stank of gasoline and burned metal. Tae-min reappeared on the center span of the Nanpu Bridge. Traffic had halted in chaos. One of the vans carrying the idols hung half over the guardrail, crushed metal sparking against concrete.

Nightwing pulled the last staff member free. Several idols sobbed in shock. Orphan was with Jiho and Seojin, grounding them. Jiho cried openly, searching the bridge for someone.

Min-jae was farther down the span. Tae-min could hear his frantic prayers.

Please. Please. Please. Where are you?

He felt it before he saw it.

Blood.

Fear.

A voice trying to stay steady.

A prayer, not for himself. Someone was praying for him, not to him.

He arrived just as Batman and Min-jae found Kwan.

The steel railing had collapsed, pinning him in place. The bar had gone straight through his torso. Kwan had pushed the others out first.

Always the hero, even when he begged Tae-min not to be one.

The river wind carried the metallic scent of blood and burnt rubber. Min-jae was crying, and Tae-min had never seen Min-jae cry.

“Kwan.” Tae-min fell to his knees. The god inside him recoiled, leaving only pain. For a moment he wished for the numbness back.

Kwan gave a weak blooded smile. “Hey, kid.”

His shirt was soaked red. The wound was too deep. Too fatal. The steel held him like a butterfly pinned under glass.

Batman crouched in the debris, eyes grim, voice strangely gently as he put a hand on Min-jae's shoulder. “We need someone strong enough to move this without tearing him apart.”

He could do it, but he called for Kon softly. Supernova appeared in a rush of wind, but one look at Kwan’s body told him the truth.

There was nothing to save.

Because she was  already there. The woman in black silk. The same serene face. Watching.

The truth sank into Tae-min like a stone. Bruce touched his arm and whispered something, he thinks. Kon was lifting the van. Everything was fuzzy.

Kwan reached for him, fingers trembling. “Tae. Don't be sad. Please.”

Tae-min took his hand, breath shaking. The golden lines on his skin flickered as the god inside him twisted in helpless rage.

He made the steel vanish. Someone behind him sobbed when they saw Kwan’s broken body collapse forward. Tae-min did not look at Min-jae. He tried to heal, pouring everything into the ruined flesh.

He had bent shadows.
He had done miracles.
He had cured cancer.
He had brought his brother back from death.

But she was still there.

“It is not working,” he whispered. Tears blurred his vision. “Why?”

He looked at her for the first time since the desert.

Her gaze softened. “You cannot interfere every time, little star. Some crossings must happen.”

“No.”

Kwan exhaled, eyes turning glassy. He looked at her. He saw her. And he was not afraid.

Why are you not afraid? Fight. Stay. Don’t be brave. Be selfish for once.

“Please,” Tae-min whispered. “Please stay.”

“I’m sorry.” Kwan exhaled. “You’ll be alright.”

Kwan heard Min-jae whisper something and smiled. They’re looking into each other's eyes. Because they were in love and they should have all the time to live it. 

They should have.

His hand slipped from Tae-min’s and he heard Min-jae make a noise, like he was trying not to scream and was suffocating in his pain.

The city noise faded. The river wind stilled.

Tae-min bowed over him. The shadows curled around them like mourning veils.

She was pulling him away from them.

And somewhere deep inside, the god screamed.

---

Kwan opened his eyes to the soft hum of a guitar. His father sat on a small bar stage, smiling his tired smile.

“Long time no see, kiddo. I did not want to see you so soon.”

Kwan laughed weakly. “So I am dead.”

“Seems that way.”

He reached out. Then arms wrapped around his waist from behind. A small's voice trembled.

“No.”

Kwan turned. A small thing was behind him, eyes red and swollen. A child. A sad child. Something inside him whispered that he was seeing a god.

For him though, he was only seeing a crying child who needed comfort.

Kwan knelt and pulled him close. Tears ran down the small face like molten gold, eyes wide and teary,

“Stay,” the child begged. “Don't go. Don’t leave me too.”

His heart was breaking, even more when he looked into the ice blue eyes and recognized the child as his little brother.

Tae’s pain was crushing. 

Kwan felt the pull from both sides, like when Jiho and Seojin used to tug his hands in opposite directions. He looked back. His father was gone. In his place stood the woman in black silk. 

“He can’t go,” Tae-min whispered. “Please. Don’t.”

She crouched down and gently took one of Tae-min’s fingers from Kwan’s arm. “My little star, you cannot stop destiny when it arrives. We can interfere only when there is a path for it. If it is not their time.”

“Not him,” Tae-min pleaded. “Please. Don’t take another one from me.”

Kwan made a pained sound, hugging and shushing him. He had never seen him crying like that.

“It's alright...”

“No! You have to stay! Stay with me!”

Kwan looked at her, not knowing what to do. It was like looking at an old friend and he felt strangely unafraid. Just sad. 

To his surprise when he looked at her, Death was already looking at him and she was hesitating. For the first time. Something there surprised her.

The pull stopped.

Tae-min stiffened in shock. The tears on his cheeks stilled.

“You have changed something again,” she said in awe.

Kwan felt himself fading, reality shifting around him. He held Tae-min more fiercely.

“You have no idea what you just did, little god. Do you? You may leave with your priest. There is always a price for changing destiny.” Her voice was gentle. “You are becoming something new each time you defy me. Defy us.  One day, you will watch them all leave, and when that day comes, we will be waiting. For your company. And you.”

She looked at Kwan and smiled.

“Use this new chance well. Don’t waste it.”

She kissed his forehead.

Everything vanished.

---

Please. Wake up. little brother, wake up.

Tae-min woke up in a hospital days later. Machines hummed softly. His throat ached.

He did not know how the world had changed while he slept. He did not know the videos of Joker’s death had spread. Or that people claimed miracles happened across Shanghai. Or whispers of Kwan coming back to life beneath the bridge and the Justice League discussing the risk of him being a god that warded an entire city.

Kwan slept in a bed beside him. Peacefully, fully healed. His hair was threaded with new gray, a mark left by death or by Tae-min’s touch. Whatever it was, something must have changed in him too.

Cass sat on the other side, already awake, tears of relief in her eyes.

Tae-min exhaled when Cass kissed his forehead and supernova was already entering the window, calling his name. Soon Kwan would wake and the room would become chaos.

For now, Tae-min lay still, staring at the ceiling, with Kon’s head in his chest and Cass fingers in his hair.

Death’s words lingered like smoke.

Something fundamental inside him had changed.

In defying destiny, in dragging someone back from the threshold, he had lost a piece of himself.

A piece that had made him human.

---

Shanghai Daily Tribune

Coordinated Bombing at Pudong Cultural Festival — Hundreds Saved by Mysterious Idol Intervention

BBC World

Global Shock as Joker Dies in Shanghai — Video Shows Confrontation with Eclipse’s Tae-min

The Korea Herald

Eclipse’s Tae-min Hospitalized After Saving Civilians During Shanghai Attacks

Variety Asia

Chaos on Nanpu Bridge — Idol Group Eclipse’s Van Nearly Falls Off After Explosion; Member Kwan in Critical Condition after being declared dead in local.

GNN Breaking

Miracles on Camera: Debris Moves, Shadows Shift — Civilians Credit Tae-min for ‘Impossible’ Rescues

New York Herald

Tae-min, the Idol Who Faced the Joker — Experts Debate Meta Abilities After Viral Footage

---

@shanghaitea88

My cousin was at the festival. Haven’t heard from her since the first explosion. 

@metaphysicsnerd

Call it meta abilities or divine intervention, IDC. Tae-min saved hundreds.

@nightwing_is_real

Nightwing was everywhere. Red Hood was evacuating with Orphan. Batman was searching for the bombs. Gotham’s heroes everywhere. For Tae-min.

@konstan_superfans

Supernova literally held up an entire collapsing section of scaffolding. Heroes are unreal.

@magiccircle_88

Constantine yelling in Cantonese was the funniest and most terrifying thing today.

@darkclownarchive

I WATCHED JOKER STOP LAUGHING. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?? HE STOPPED.

@taeminangel

Joker is dead? Is it true??

@sunbae_sees_all

He wasn’t scared. Not even for a second. He looked at a massa murderer like a disappointed parent.

@shng_trafficcam

The VAN WAS HANGING OVER THE EDGE.
HANGING.
I thought they all died.

@Gothamwatcher

Nightwing, Batman and Orphan deserve a medal. They saved the Nebula and Eclipse members from the vans, risking their lives with the possibility of new bombings.

@kwan_supremacy

WHY ARE CHINESE NEWS SAYING KWAN DIDN’T MAKE IT??? PLEASE SOMEONE CONFIRM 😭😭😭

@kwan_supremacy

UPDATE: He is ALIVE. In critical condition but ALIVE. I am SOBBING.

@eclipse_updates

OFFICIAL: Tae-min and Kwan were taken to a hospital by emergency services.

@eclipsefamily

First Jiho crying, then Kwan nearly dying, then Tae-min confronting Joker… I can’t do this.

@gothamite_77

Gotham is having a blast because of the death of Joker. They’ll make it a holliday as soon as Tae-min is stable. 

@globalrisk

Experts warn Joker’s death will trigger major gang power shifts.

@mei_saves

My daughter is alive because Tae-min shielded her. Thank you. Thank you.

@eclipse_official

[Statement] They are awake and stable. All members are safe and with their families.

 

 

Notes:

Warning: Violence, suicide, presumed death, gore.
Why Tae-min goes out as Tae-min and not Gwidam to confront Joker? Because he felt the need to sent a message to who is hunting him. He is not anyone prey.
Why Kwan's sees Tae-min as a child: because it fundamentally is one of his forms as a god. He is the ghost child, afterall.

Death: You cant' do anything if it is his destiny to die.
Tae-min: "change Kwan's destiny"
Death: Or you can do that too. You're doing amazing sweet.

Can you imagine how is Gotham right now? Or the world?
A k-pop idol just confronted a mass murdered and made him feel so ashamed that he offed himself on live.
Jason is feeling it.
Dick is too, but in a bad way. He is feeling guilty because Tae-min asked him to protect his friends and them THAT happened.
Poor Dick.

Also, Tae-min now has a lot of new believers, he is stronger than ever.
Strong enought to defy destiny, it seems.
Also Death is weak to his tears and he knows it.

Notes:

Tae-min, my child, you're the weird one.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Hungry Ghost