Chapter 1 – The Star That Fell

The news broke before dawn.

Elena had always been a light sleeper, but that morning, she wished she had never woken up. Her phone buzzed relentlessly, the glow of the screen cutting through the darkness of her small apartment. At first, she ignored it, pulling the blanket over her head, letting exhaustion pin her to the bed. But the vibrations didn’t stop.

Half-asleep, she reached for the device and squinted at the endless flood of notifications. And then—

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Breaking news: Actor Seon found dead in his apartment.”

She sat up so fast that dizziness clouded her vision. She blinked. Maybe she had misread it. Maybe she was still dreaming.

But no. The words remained, cold and unchanging.

“Seon, beloved star of stage and screen, has passed away in an apparent suicide. He was 27 years old.”

Her stomach twisted. She scrolled frantically, her fingers trembling. Every headline screamed the same unbearable truth. News sites, social media, even private messages from friends—everyone was talking about it, mourning, speculating.

Elena’s vision blurred as she clicked on a news article.

“At approximately 2:36 AM, Seon was discovered in his apartment by his manager after he failed to answer his phone. The police suspect no foul play and have confirmed the presence of a handwritten note. His agency has asked for privacy as they process this devastating loss. Fans worldwide are reeling from the tragedy, remembering the star as an icon of his generation…”

No.

No, no, no.

Her hands clenched around her phone as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. This couldn’t be real. It had to be some sick rumor. A mistake. Celebrities were falsely reported dead all the time, weren’t they? Any second now, Seon’s agency would issue a statement denying it. He’d post on social media, annoyed at the false reports, maybe even laughing about it.

But his accounts were silent.

No denial. No updates. No life.

Just endless tributes from fans, colleagues, and media outlets, mourning someone who was no longer here.

Elena couldn’t breathe.

She stumbled out of bed, her legs weak beneath her. She barely made it to the sink before she collapsed against the counter, gripping the edges as if the world itself was spinning out of control. The morning light filtered weakly through the blinds, painting everything in shades of grey.

Seon was gone.

She felt like she was falling, even though her feet were still on the ground. The world had tilted, the fabric of reality fraying at the edges. She thought of his laughter, his soft voice in interviews, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled—memories that now felt like echoes of something irretrievably lost.

How?

How could someone so bright disappear like this?

Elena’s hands shook as she opened her gallery. Her phone was filled with pictures and videos of him—movie stills, interview clips, fan edits she had saved. She pressed play on one of them, her own recorded message from a fan event where Seon had thanked the audience for their love and support. His voice, so warm, so alive, filled the room.

“Thank you for always believing in me. I hope my work brings you happiness.”

The words cut through her like a blade.

A sob clawed its way up her throat, and before she could stop herself, she was crying—ugly, gasping sobs that wracked her entire body.

She had never met him. Never spoken to him. To the world, she was just another faceless fan in the sea of millions who adored him. And yet, in the quiet moments of her life, he had been there. In her darkest nights, when loneliness threatened to consume her, his presence through a screen had been enough. His voice, his performances, his mere existence had kept her tethered.

And now he was gone.

The thought was unbearable.

She slid to the floor, her phone slipping from her grasp, the video still playing. On the screen, Seon was smiling—a captured moment of happiness that no longer existed.

Why hadn’t anyone saved him?

Why hadn’t she?

Her tears blurred the world around her. The pain felt suffocating, as if grief itself was pressing down on her chest, making it impossible to breathe.

Elena didn’t know how long she stayed there, curled up on the cold tile floor. But when the sun fully rose, when the world outside continued as if nothing had changed, one thought echoed relentlessly in her mind:

If only I could have saved you.