"Aren… you… You?"
Harry couldn't bring himself to speak. He had no idea what he was supposed to say in a moment—or a scene—like this.
And he wasn't the only one.
Everyone stood frozen, staring at Aren as he knelt there, his features still beautiful and delicate, while one of his hands was horrifyingly drenched in blood.
As for the hunter… he lay off to the side, seemingly unconscious.
Perhaps his head had struck the hard ground.
Or perhaps it was the terror of brushing so close to death beneath Aren's hands.
Most likely, it was the latter.
The people present didn't remain stunned for long.
Mel hurried forward, moving quickly to support Aren the moment he saw him still standing.
Mel's blue eyes were red and brimming with tears, burning with worry.
How could he not be afraid, seeing a child barely past sixteen in such a state?
Especially when they—who were supposed to be like his elders, like his older brothers—had stood there uselessly, watching with folded arms, while he was the one who saved everyone.
"Aren, are you stupid? How could you hold a weapon like that? Show me your hand—let me see it!"
"Oh my God… the bleeding won't stop."
The teenager's small, unblemished, pale hand was now soaked in blood.
A long, deep gash ran clearly across his flesh, cutting brutally into it.
Jill, too, no longer wore his usual carefree, smiling expression.
"Are you even human? Damn it—how are you still standing without even blinking?"
Jill grabbed his blond hair, his green eyes blazing with anger and agitation.
"What are you all standing around for?! Go get the first-aid kit! This damn variety show doesn't have a single good thing about it. I already regret agreeing to participate."
Harry's temperament was always as fiery as his bright red hair, and his light-brown eyes gleamed with a chilling coldness—nothing like an idol's, but rather like a ruthless CEO no one dared to anger or argue with.
Albert, too was never one to hold his tongue, turned directly to Aren and said sharply,
"You're a kid who doesn't understand the meaning of limits. What were you thinking, facing a madman holding a hunting rifle? Aren't you afraid for your life, huh? Do you think you're Superman or something like that? Look at what you've done to your body. You should know this—your body and your life don't belong to you alone. They belong to your parents. How do you think they'd feel, seeing the child they struggled to bring into this world, to raise and educate, throwing himself into danger like that? Did you think about them? About their fear—even for a second—before playing the hero?"
Everyone had surrounded Aren by now.
Even Nathan—the quiet, withdrawn one—approached silently, a small first-aid kit in his hand.
As people who lived in a civilized, protected society, this was the first time any of them had witnessed such a bloody scene—guns, violence, madness.
At first, Aren hadn't cared about his wound or the pain.
But as these people drew closer—even knowing they meant him no harm—his body betrayed him.
His muscles remained tense, coiled and ready to pounce, ready to kill an enemy at any moment.
He had almost killed that stupid hunter earlier.
And his killing aura was still leaking out.
It was fortunate that these were all ordinary people—ones who had never seen a battlefield or known its horrors.
They couldn't sense the bloodlust radiating from Aren's body.
The hunter, however, was different.
Accustomed to blood and killing, he had sensed it—and it had terrified him enough to knock him unconscious.
When Aren heard Albert's words, his mind couldn't help but drift back to a distant time—when he was still young.
When he had been the young lord of the largest, richest, and noblest family in the country.
Despite their wealth and noble blood, his family had always been simple—loving one another, valuing life and health far more than the rise or fall of stock prices.
His mother used to sing to him and read him bedtime stories every night, until he started refusing, insisting he was fourteen now—a man, not a child.
How much he had cried over those words later.
How deeply he had regretted them.
How desperately he had wished she were still alive— even if it meant she would treat him like a child for the rest of his life.
He would have accepted it.
He would have begged for it.
His father, too, had never liked pressuring him or burdening him with the family's responsibilities.
He always told him that if he didn't want to be the heir, it was fine—that he should follow his heart, and know his family would always stand beside him, supporting him no matter what path he chose.
But Aren had loved learning.
He had been intelligent and perceptive from a young age, and the title of heir had never been a burden to someone known as one of the world's youngest prodigies.
His grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins… all of them had been kind, gentle, and admirable people.
It had been the happiest family in the world.
He had always known that.
No power struggles.
No envy or jealousy.
No hatred or resentment.
But it was as if the heavens themselves had grown jealous of such perfection.
They sent something to destroy it.
And in a single night, everything burned—reduced to ashes.
"They don't…"
"What?" Albert hadn't heard Aren's murmur and looked at the boy more closely.
No matter how he looked at him, Aren truly seemed like a child—small body, pale skin, youthful face.
But his actions…
A strange light flickered through Albert's eyes as Aren spoke again, louder and clearer.
"I don't have them anymore. They won't see."
A single, simple sentence plunged everyone into silence.
Especially as they looked at the teenager standing before them.
His expression was—
It was painful.
There were no tears.
No complaints.
No visible signs of pain.
Yet somehow, that made it worse.
As if his soul were crying while his eyes refused to show it.
As if his body were being torn apart, yet his rigid expression refused to reveal the secrets of his heart.
Everything is hidden behind a mask of indifference.
Aren looked at Albert in a way that made the man regret his words for the first time in his life.
He realized he had been far too cruel to the boy.
Just as he was thinking of how to comfort Aren—to apologize—he saw Aren's body sway to the side.
At the sight of him collapsing, all five members rushed forward to catch him.
Nathan was the fastest.
He managed to catch Aren before he hit the ground.
Then he frowned deeply when his hand touched the teenager's skin—it was burning hot.
Supporting Aren with one arm, Nathan lifted the other to his forehead and froze.
"He has a high fever."
At his words, the others hurried over as well, placing their hands on Aren's forehead—only to be shocked by how hot he was.
"This stupid kid… was he planning to burn himself to death without saying a single word?"
Harry exploded in anger.
The others weren't in any better state, but none of them could bring themselves to scold someone who was sick and unconscious.
Mel sighed. "Come on. Let's treat his wounds quickly and carry him back to the villa as fast as possible. He'll get better care and rest there."
Everyone agreed not to waste another second and hurried toward the villa.
It wasn't that they didn't want to take him to the hospital—but they were far from the city, and the trip would take more than four hours. It would be exhausting and useless for Aren in his condition.
It was better to rely on the production team to bring in top doctors and treat Aren comfortably and efficiently.
Without anyone realizing it—
Within an hour of the live broadcast, the once "dead" idol group, stripped of its strength, became one of the hottest topics on social media.
Hashtags flooded every platform:
#SavingAWildWolfAndItsCubs
#IdolTakesDownIllegalHunter
#SparkIdolGroupConfrontsArmedMan
#TakeDownTheBadHunter
#IdolHumanity
A single small spark ignited a raging fire, and the atmosphere exploded with headlines about Spark—and its newest member.
As for that new member, the one who had caused it all—
He was sleeping peacefully on a large bed, wrapped in warm blankets, completely unaware of the storm shaking the world outside.