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Cortis x illit

The Midnight Fever Rescue

The transition from the high-energy "Eclipse" debut promotions to a rare week of scheduled rest should have been a period of blissful silence in the HYBE dormitory. For the first three days, it was. The eleven members had settled into a comfortable rhythm of late-morning brunches and low-stakes movie marathons. However, on the fourth night, the silence was broken by a sound that triggered the Cortis members' internal alarms faster than any stage cue ever could.

It was a soft, wet cough coming from the girls' wing, followed by the unmistakable sound of a heavy sigh.

Martin was the first to sit up in bed. His room was closest to the hallway, a strategic placement he’d insisted upon "just in case." He checked his phone: 3:14 AM. He waited, his ears straining. Another cough. This one sounded strained, small, and miserable.

He didn't even put on a shirt, throwing a oversized hoodie over his bare chest and sliding into his slippers. As he stepped into the hallway, he nearly collided with James, who was already emerging from his own room with a look of intense focus.

"You heard it too?" James whispered, his voice raspy with sleep but sharp with concern.

"The cough," Martin confirmed. "It’s coming from the maknae’s room."

They didn't need to say more. As they reached Iroha’s door, it creaked open. Yunah stood there, her hair a mess and her eyes tired. She looked at the two giants in the hallway and gave a weary nod.

"She’s burning up," Yunah whispered. "I think the exhaustion finally caught up with her. She woke up ten minutes ago crying because her throat hurts."

The two boys pushed past her with practiced synchronization. The room was dim, lit only by a small star-shaped nightlight. Iroha was curled into a tiny ball under her duvet, her face flushed a deep, worrying pink. Her breath was coming in short, ragged puffs.

"Roha-ya," Martin murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped significantly under his weight. He reached out, pressing the back of his large hand against her forehead. He hissed through his teeth. "She’s scorching. James, get the thermometer and the cooling patches. Now."

James vanished instantly.

"Oppa?" Iroha’s voice was a mere thread of sound, cracked and painful. She squinted up at Martin, her eyes glassy with fever. "Everything... everything is spinning."

"I know, baby, I know," Martin said, his voice dropping into that deep, grounding register he only used when she was truly distressed. He gently lifted her up, propping her against a mountain of pillows. She felt terrifyingly small and fragile in his arms, like a bird with a broken wing. "We’ve got you. Just breathe for me."

Within seconds, the room began to fill. It was like a silent summoning. Juhoon appeared with a bowl of cool water and a washcloth. Keonho and Seonghyeon followed, carrying a humidifier and a fresh gallon of electrolyte water. The "Protective Perimeter" had formed in record time.

"102.7," James reported, staring at the digital thermometer as if he wanted to fight it. "That’s way too high. We need to get her fever down before we call the company doctor."

"I’ll do the cooling," Juhoon said, kneeling by the bed. He was the most composed of the younger boys, his steady hands dipping the cloth into the water. He wrung it out and carefully placed it over Iroha’s forehead.

Iroha let out a small, shaky whimper at the cold contact, her hands reaching out blindly. Martin immediately caught them, enveloping both of her tiny hands in one of his.

"It’s okay, Roha-chan," Keonho whispered, hovering at the foot of the bed. His usual jokester persona was completely gone, replaced by a raw, wide-eyed anxiety. "The water is just to help the fire go away. You’re okay."

"I’m cold," she shivered, her teeth literally chattering despite the heat radiating off her skin. "Oppa, I’m so cold."

"That’s the fever playing tricks on you," Seonghyeon said, moving to the other side of the bed. He grabbed a second blanket, but James stopped him.

"No, we can't bundle her up too much or the heat won't escape," James said, his "Stage Father" instincts shifting into "Nurse" mode. "We need to keep her comfortable but cool. Martin, keep holding her. Juhoon, keep the cloths coming."

For the next two hours, the room became a sanctuary of quiet, focused care. The girls—Minju, Moka, and Wonhee—had gathered in the doorway, bringing medicine and honey-lemon tea, but they stayed back, sensing that the Cortis boys needed this. It was their way of processing the helplessness they felt whenever their maknae was in pain.

Martin didn't move from his spot. He remained a solid, warm anchor for Iroha to lean against. Every time she coughed, he winced as if he were the one feeling the pain.

"Drink a little bit, Roha," Juhoon urged, holding a straw to her lips. "Just a sip for Oppa."

Iroha took a tiny sip and immediately turned her head away, a tear escaping her closed eyelids. "It hurts to swallow."

"I know it does," Juhoon said, his voice breaking slightly. He looked up at Martin, his expression desperate. "Hyung, what if it’s more than a cold?"

"It’s exhaustion and a viral bug," Martin said firmly, though he was just as worried. "She’s been working harder than all of us combined. Her body just needs to reset."

As the clock ticked toward 5:00 AM, the medicine finally began to take hold. Iroha’s breathing leveled out, and the frantic flush in her cheeks faded to a pale rose. She drifted into a deeper, more restorative sleep, her head resting against Martin’s chest.

"The fever is dropping," James whispered, checking the thermometer again. "100.1. Still high, but much better."

A collective sigh of relief rippled through the room.

"You guys should go to sleep," Yunah said from the doorway, stepping inside. "The sun is almost up. We can take over from here."

"I'm not leaving," Keonho said immediately, sitting cross-legged on the floor at the foot of the bed. "What if she wakes up and wants a snack? Or what if she gets scared?"

"Keonho-ya, you’re falling asleep standing up," Minju pointed out kindly.

"I’ll stay with Martin," James decided. "The rest of you, out. We need to keep the air in here fresh. Juhoon, leave the water. Seonghyeon, go get some rest so you can be the one to entertain her when she wakes up feeling better."

Reluctantly, the room cleared out until only the three eldest boys remained. Martin remained the human pillow, James sat in the desk chair watching the clock for the next dose of medicine, and Juhoon refused to move from his spot on the floor, leaning his head against the bed frame.

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, Iroha stirred. She didn't wake up fully, but she shifted, her hand clutching the fabric of Martin’s hoodie.

"Don't go," she mumbled in her sleep.

"Never," Martin whispered, kissing the top of her head. "We aren't going anywhere, little one."

By noon the next day, the "Iroha Recovery Mission" was in full swing. The fever had broken completely, leaving the maknae weak but conscious. The Cortis boys had transformed the living room into a "Maknae Recovery Suite." They had moved the softest duvet from the master bedroom to the long sofa, surrounded it with every plushie she owned, and set up a projector to play her favorite anime on the far wall.

Iroha was carried from her room to the sofa by James, who insisted that her feet shouldn't touch the cold floor until her temperature was a perfect 98.6 for twenty-four hours.

"I can walk, Oppa," Iroha protested weakly, though she looked quite comfortable being carried.

"Hospital rules," James lied smoothly. "Patients must be transported via James-Air."

He settled her into the nest of blankets, and within seconds, she was surrounded. Juhoon appeared with a bowl of abalone porridge he’d spent three hours learning to make via a YouTube tutorial.

"It’s not as good as the restaurant, but it’s healthy," Juhoon said, blowing on a spoonful before offering it to her.

"It smells good," Iroha said, taking a bite. Her eyes lit up. "It’s actually really good, Oppa!"

Juhoon’s ears turned pink, and he ducked his head to hide a proud smile.

Seonghyeon and Keonho were currently engaged in a silent war of "who could make the funniest face" to distract her from the bitterness of her medicine. Seonghyeon had taped two orange slices to his ears, while Keonho was trying to balance a spoon on his nose.

"Stop it," Iroha giggled, her voice still a bit raspy. "I’m going to choke on my porridge."

"Mission accomplished," Seonghyeon whispered to Keonho. "She laughed. The recovery is at 70%."

Martin entered the room with a tray of vitamins and the group’s manager on speakerphone. "Yes, she’s fine. No, we don't need the hospital. We have five certified bodyguards and four nurses on site. Just cancel the dance practice for tomorrow too. She needs her strength."

He hung up and sat at the edge of the sofa, looking at Iroha with a tenderness that would have shocked their fans. "How are you feeling, Roha? Be honest."

"Better," she said, reaching out to grab his hand. "My throat still feels a bit scratchy, but I'm not dizzy anymore."

"Good," Martin said. He looked around the room at his members. James was checking the humidifier, Juhoon was hovering with the porridge, and the jokester twins were preparing a puppet show with her plushies. "You gave us a real scare last night, kiddo."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes welling up. "I didn't mean to make everyone stay up."

The room went quiet. James stopped what he was doing and walked over, kneeling by the sofa.

"Iroha," James said, his voice firm but kind. "Do you remember what we told you when the groups merged? We’re a family now. When you’re sick, we’re sick. When you’re tired, we’re tired. You never have to apologize for needing us. That’s literally why we’re here."

"He’s right," Keonho added, dropping the spoon from his nose. "Plus, watching James-hyung panic in his pajamas was the highlight of my week. He was wearing mismatched socks, Roha. One was polka dot, one was a cat."

Iroha looked at James’s feet and burst into a fit of giggles. James turned bright red.

"It was dark!" James defended himself. "I was more worried about the 102-degree fever than my fashion choices!"

The rest of the day was a slow, peaceful blur of recovery. The girls joined them later, bringing board games and stories from their own trainee days to keep Iroha entertained. For the first time since the "Eclipse Project" began, there was no talk of choreography, no checking of social media metrics, and no pressure to be perfect.

They were just eleven people taking care of their heart.

As evening fell, Iroha began to drift off again, the lingering effects of the cold making her drowsy. She looked around at her brothers. Martin was reading a book nearby, James was organizing her vitamins for the next day, and the younger boys were sprawled on the floor, whispering so they wouldn't wake her.

"Oppa?" she murmured.

Martin looked up instantly. "Yeah, Roha?"

"Can you... can you stay here? While I sleep?"

Martin looked at the other boys, who all nodded in silent agreement. He moved from the chair to the floor next to the sofa, leaning his head against the cushion right next to hers.

"We’re not going anywhere," Martin promised. "We’ll be right here when you wake up."

"And the socks will be matching tomorrow," James added, earning a final sleepy giggle from the maknae.

That night, the HYBE dorm was silent once more. But it wasn't the silence of exhaustion or professional distance. It was the quiet, steady pulse of a family that had been tested and found wanting for nothing but each other’s well-being.

The Eclipse Project had been created to dominate the world stage, but in that living room, surrounded by half-eaten porridge and mismatched socks, they had achieved something much more difficult. They had created a sanctuary where a fourteen-year-old girl could be vulnerable, and where five giants could find their greatest strength not in their talent, but in their capacity to protect the one who made them whole.

As Iroha slept, her fever finally a memory, she held onto Martin’s hand. And Martin, for the first time in months, slept soundly too, knowing that his world was safe, warm, and exactly where it was meant to be.