“We ran so far we forgot we had feet. We sang so loud we forgot we could whisper. But here, at the end of the world, The earth doesn’t end. It just opens wider.”

He knocked on the window. “Wake up. I found north.”

Jungkook, the eternal cameraman, set up a tripod. He ran to join them, and they took a group photo. Seven silhouettes against a rising sun over the roaring sea.

And so, the seven of them linked arms like a human chain, inching along the cliff. A passing hiker recognized them and whispered to her friend, “Is that… BTS?” Her friend replied, “No, that’s seven brothers saving one of their own.”

RM stood at the very edge, the spray of the sea on his face. He pulled out a small notebook and read a poem he had written during the trip:

Taehyung sat on a rock, sketching the lighthouse. Jimin stood beside RM, saying nothing. J-Hope did a spontaneous dance on the cliff—not a choreographed move, just pure joy. Suga watched him with soft eyes.