Cortis x illit
The Neon Lights of the City of Angels
The humid, palm-fringed air of Los Angeles usually felt like a promise of adventure, but inside the sprawling penthouse of their Beverly Hills hotel, it felt like a heavy curtain. The "Eclipse Project" had touched down in California forty-eight hours ago, and the itinerary had been a whirlwind of radio interviews, photoshoots on Santa Monica pier, and dance rehearsals under the scorching sun.
But tonight was different. Tonight was the "Diamond Gala," a high-profile industry event hosted by a major American label. It was the kind of networking opportunity that could cement Eclipse as a global household name. It was also, as the manager had sternly reminded them over breakfast, strictly eighteen-plus.
"It’s just for four hours," Martin said, checking his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. He looked devastatingly sharp in a tailored black suit, his 6’3” frame cutting an imposing figure. He adjusted his silk tie, but his eyes were fixed on the reflection of the sofa behind him.
Iroha sat there, buried in an oversized hoodie that made her look even smaller than her five-foot stature. Next to her, Wonhee was pouting so hard her lower lip was practically touching her chin. Keonho and Seonghyeon, the remaining members of the "underage line," were slumped in armchairs like two tragic statues of Greek sorrow.
"Four hours is a lifetime in LA," Keonho grumbled, crossing his arms. "Do you know how many tacos we could eat in four hours? Do you know how many TikToks we could film on the balcony? But no, we’re stuck here while you guys go drink fancy sparkling water and talk to people who probably don't even know our names yet."
James, looking regal in a deep navy blazer, walked over and ruffled Keonho’s hair. "It’s not our rule, Keon-ah. The legal team was very clear. If the paparazzi catch a fourteen-year-old at a venue with an open bar, the headline won't be about our music. It’ll be about HYBE’s negligence."
"I'm fifteen in five months!" Iroha protested, her voice small but sharp. She looked up at Martin, her big eyes swimming with a mixture of betrayal and boredom. "Oppa, you promised we’d do everything together in America. You said Eclipse was a single unit."
Martin felt a familiar pang of guilt. He walked over and knelt in front of her, ignoring the way his expensive suit trousers creaked. "We are a unit, Roha-ya. But part of being the leader is making sure you stay in the safe zone. This party is going to be loud, crowded, and full of people who haven't slept in three days. You’re better off here."
"I don't want to be better off," Iroha whispered, reaching out to tug on Martin’s sleeve. "I want to be where you are."
The "Maknae Sabotage" began approximately ten minutes later.
As Yunah and Minju emerged from their rooms in stunning evening gowns, looking like goddesses of the K-pop world, they found the hallway blocked by a literal wall of luggage.
"What is this?" Yunah asked, blinking at the mountain of suitcases stacked three-high in front of the main door.
"Oh, those?" Seonghyeon said, appearing from the kitchen with a nonchalant expression. "The wheels broke. On all of them. Simultaneously. It’s a tragedy, really. We’re waiting for the hotel engineer, but he said he won't be here until... oh, tomorrow morning."
"Seonghyeon, move the bags," Martin said, his voice dropping into his 'Leader tone.'
"I can't, Hyung! My back! I think I pulled a muscle while being sad about staying home," Seonghyeon replied, clutching his lower back dramatically.
While Martin was occupied with the luggage wall, Keonho had successfully managed to hide every single pair of dress shoes belonging to the older members. James was currently frantic, crawling under the dining table.
"Where are my loafers?" James cried. "I put them right by the door! Yunah, did you see my loafers?"
"I saw a very suspicious dog-shaped shadow running toward the balcony with something shiny in its mouth," Wonhee suggested helpfully, not looking up from her phone.
"We don't have a dog, Wonhee!" James shouted.
Iroha, the mastermind behind the final tier of the plan, stood by the thermostat. When Martin finally cleared the luggage and James found his shoes (hidden inside the freezer, of all places), they realized the room had suddenly become a tropical rainforest.
"Why is it ninety degrees in here?" Minju gasped, fanning herself with her hand. "My makeup is going to melt before we even get to the lobby!"
Iroha stood by the control panel, her finger hovering over the 'Heat' button. "The air conditioning is broken, too. It’s so hot. Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe the hotel wants us all to stay here and order room service."
Martin sighed, walking over to Iroha. He didn't look angry; he looked exhausted. He gently took her hand and moved it away from the thermostat. "Roha-ya. Stop."
The silence that followed was heavy. Iroha’s shoulders slumped. The mischief drained out of the younger members, replaced by the realization that their giants were actually leaving.
"We just don't want to be alone," Keonho admitted, his voice losing its playful edge. "Everything is so big here. The city, the fans, the buildings. When you guys leave, it feels like the group is split in half."
James walked over and pulled Keonho and Seonghyeon into a double headlock, rubbing their heads affectionately. "We aren't splitting in half. We’re just going to work. Think of it like this: we go and do the boring talking so that tomorrow, we can take you guys to Universal Studios without worrying about the managers."
"Universal?" Wonhee’s eyes lit up.
"If you stay here, behave, and don't turn the penthouse into a sauna," Martin promised, looking at Iroha.
Iroha sighed, her heart finally giving in. She knew she couldn't win, and she knew they were right. But the thought of the vast hotel suite without Martin’s constant presence felt cold, despite the ninety-degree heat.
"Okay," she whispered. "But you have to call me. Every hour."
"Every two hours," Martin countered. "And I’ll bring you back those tiny fancy desserts you like."
"Deal."
The older members finally managed to depart, leaving a trail of perfume and expensive cologne in their wake. The door clicked shut, and the four "left-behinds" were left in the sudden, ringing silence of the penthouse.
"So," Seonghyeon said, flopping onto the sofa. "What now?"
"Now," Iroha said, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes, "we use the room service credit Martin-oppa left us."
The next three hours were a chaotic blur of luxury. They ordered four different kinds of fries, three chocolate cakes, and enough Shirley Temples to fill a bathtub. They moved the mattresses from the bedrooms into the living room, creating a giant "Nest of Sadness" that quickly turned into a "Nest of Sugar Highs."
However, as the clock ticked toward 11:00 PM, the sugar crash hit. The vastness of the suite began to feel a little too quiet. The city of Los Angeles hummed outside the windows, a restless beast of light and sound, and Iroha found herself staring at the door.
"I'm going to my room," Iroha announced, hugging a plushie she’d brought from Korea. "I'm tired."
"Me too," Wonhee yawned. "Goodnight, boys."
The room assignments in LA had been a matter of much debate. To ensure Iroha felt safe in a foreign country, Martin had taken the twin-bed room with her. James, Yunah, and Keonho shared a massive triple suite. Minju, Wonhee, and Juhoon were in the second triple, while Seonghyeon and Moka shared the final twin room.
Iroha walked into her and Martin’s room. It felt empty. Martin’s suitcase was open in the corner, his organized stacks of shirts a stark contrast to her own messy pile of hoodies. She climbed into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. The silence of the hotel was different from the dorm in Seoul. It felt unfamiliar, the shadows of the palm trees outside dancing on the walls like reaching fingers.
She tried to close her eyes, but every creak of the building made her heart jump. She missed the low hum of Martin’s snoring or the way he’d check her blanket before he went to sleep.
She reached for her phone and saw a message from thirty minutes ago.
*Martin-oppa: Just finished the main dinner. Everyone is asking about you. James is currently trying to explain to a famous producer why he has a picture of you as his lockscreen. We'll be home soon. Sleep well, Roha-ya.*
Iroha smiled, clutching the phone to her chest. She was just about to drift off when a loud *thump* came from the hallway.
She froze. Then, a frantic knocking started on her door.
"Roha! Iroha-ya! Are you awake?"
It was Keonho. Iroha scrambled out of bed and opened the door. Keonho and Seonghyeon were standing there, looking uncharacteristically pale.
"What's wrong?" Iroha asked, her heart hammering.
"The lights went out in our wing," Keonho whispered. "And we heard a weird noise near the vent. Like... an American ghost."
"There are no American ghosts, Keonho-oppa," Iroha said, though she stepped back to let them in.
"You haven't seen the movies!" Seonghyeon added, quickly shutting the door behind them. "They’re much louder than Korean ghosts. And since James-hyung isn't here to protect us, we decided to... strategically relocate to the Leader’s room."
Moments later, Wonhee appeared as well, wrapped in a duvet like a burrito. "Minju-unnie and Juhoon-oppa aren't back yet, and the ice machine down the hall made a sound like a chainsaw. I’m staying here."
And so, the four youngest members of Eclipse found themselves huddled together in Martin and Iroha’s room. They pushed the two twin beds together, creating one giant island of safety.
"Martin-oppa is going to be so confused when he gets back," Iroha giggled, the fear finally fading now that she wasn't alone.
"He’ll be happy," Seonghyeon said, already half-asleep. "He loves it when we’re all in one place. It makes his 'shepherding' job easier."
They eventually fell asleep in a tangle of limbs and duvets. Iroha was in the center, flanked by Keonho and Wonhee, with Seonghyeon sprawled across the foot of the beds like a faithful, albeit snoring, guard dog.
Around 1:30 AM, the front door of the penthouse opened.
Martin, James, Yunah, Minju, Juhoon, and Moka stumbled in, exhausted and smelling of expensive appetizers.
"I have never smiled so much in my entire life," James groaned, loosening his tie. "My face muscles are actually twitching."
"Where are the kids?" Minju asked, looking at the empty living room and the remains of the room service feast. "I expected at least one of them to be waiting up to demand their desserts."
"Probably passed out," Martin said, his voice low. "I'll go check on Roha."
"I'll check on Keonho," James added.
A moment later, James came back out of his room, looking confused. "Keonho’s not there. Neither is his pillow."
"Wonhee’s gone too," Juhoon reported, poking his head out of his room.
Martin reached his door and pushed it open slowly. He stopped in the doorway, a tired but radiant smile spreading across his face. He beckoned the others over.
The older members crowded into the doorway, peering into the dim light. They saw the two beds pushed together. They saw the four youngest members huddled in a pile of blankets, looking peaceful and entirely innocent of the luggage-wall and shoe-hiding crimes they had committed earlier that evening.
Iroha was fast asleep, her hand clutching the edge of Keonho’s sleeve.
"They really can't be away from us for five minutes, can they?" Yunah whispered, her heart melting at the sight.
"It’s LA," James murmured, leaning against the doorframe. "It’s a big world. I guess we’re the only home they have right now."
Martin walked into the room on quiet feet. He didn't wake them. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out four small, gold-wrapped boxes of artisan chocolates he’d swiped from the gala’s VIP table. He placed them gently on the nightstand.
He looked at Iroha, noticing a stray strand of hair falling over her face. He carefully tucked it back, his thumb lingering for a second against her temple. She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open for a brief moment.
"Oppa?" she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.
"I'm here, Roha-ya," Martin breathed. "We’re all back."
"Did you... did you meet the producer?"
"I did. And James showed him the picture. He thinks you’re the star of the group."
Iroha let out a tiny, satisfied hum and closed her eyes again, snuggling deeper into the pillows. "Good. I told you... we’re a unit."
Martin stood up and looked at his members. James was already asleep on his feet, leaning against Juhoon. The girls were heading off to their own rooms, their expressions softened by the domestic scene.
Martin didn't go to the other wing. He didn't want to disturb the "Nest of Safety." Instead, he grabbed a spare pillow from the closet, threw it onto the armchair in the corner of the room, and settled in. He wasn't going to leave them alone again tonight.
As the sun began to rise over the Hollywood Hills, casting a pale pink light over the city, the Eclipse Project was finally whole again. The gala was over, the contracts were discussed, and the fame was waiting. But inside the quiet penthouse, the only thing that mattered was the steady breathing of four teenagers and the five giants who stood guard over their dreams.
Tomorrow, there would be Universal Studios. There would be rollercoasters and more churros than Keonho could handle. But for now, there was just the silence of a family that didn't need a red carpet to feel like they had everything in the world.
Martin watched Iroha sleep for a few more minutes before his own eyes finally closed. His last thought before drifting off was that James was right—the world was big, and LA was loud. But as long as they were the ones holding the door shut against the shadows, Iroha would always have a place to be small, safe, and loved.