Work Text:
[u/lilacr in r/confessions]
“I’m folding 1,461 cranes"
I’ve been so angry lately, at the whole Saja Boys thing that happened. I didn’t see anything even when I had this weird feeling in the back of my mind. I called myself a fan, and now I’ve thrown away all the merch, the posters, the cards, the stick. I feel sick that I bought into the whole thing. So I did a lot of digging, and it looks like they were at GM for 4 YEARS.
God. 4 years of abuse or whatever the fuck happened there. I don’t even want to think about it too hard or I’m actually going to throw up.
So instead of thinking about it, I goggled the amount of days 4 years is. That’s 1,461 btw.
So now I’m folding cranes, and I’m going to leave them outside SSStudios’ building when I’m done.
[u/speefwiththequeef]
No joke, I made a poster but haven’t had the heart to go to the studio yet and leave it there. If you’re up to it, could we plan a time to go together?
[edited 3 hours later]
Edit: I’m serious about leaving them. It’ll take me a while to finish them all, but if anyone else wants to join me, I’m thinking I’ll leave the first batch this Friday. 15:00. Quietly. I don’t want to make it a hassle for anyone, staff or otherwise. DM if you wanna join.
✦ ✦ ✦
She steps off the train, hugging the box close to her chest, dodging every person she can. Doesn’t want to risk it.
She’s out of breath as she reaches the top of the stairs. It’s not like she’s not fit, she’s just nervous, and her lungs feel a bit too heavy.
It’s 14:47, when she checks her phone, a small map pulled up with a photo of the restaurant she planned for them all to meet. It’s a nice quiet place with a fountain statue outside, a block away from SSStudios.
She crosses the street when the light turns, gripping the cardboard edges harder than she needs to. The cranes inside shift gently, a faint rustle, paper wings brushing against each other.
She hasn’t looked at them since yesterday. She didn’t want to start counting again. It’s not even halfway yet, but it still feels like something.
The restaurant is just ahead, tucked behind a line of trimmed hedges and low signage in soft wood. The fountain isn’t running, the floral stone edges chipped by age. The large CLOSED sign on the door means no one else is stopping by.
She’s early. Only one other person is there. They’re in an oversized hoodie, standing awkwardly with a tube poster case in one hand and a paper bag in the other.
Their eyes meet. There’s a flicker of recognition. Maybe from the thread. Maybe just shared nervous energy.
"You’re lilacr?"
The question is quiet, cautious. She nods.
"Yeah. You’re... Speef?"
“Yeah,” they say, ducking their head with a small, sheepish grin. “I didn’t think I’d actually show up.”
“Me neither,” she says, exhaling. She’s not sure if she means just today, or the whole thing.
“Anyone else showing up or is it just us?” Speef asks, just a whisper over the bustle of the city.
She nods, “Three more. One of them’s ‘glee-u-t’ from the comments. Two of them reached out through DMs.”
Speef blinks. “Glee finished the painting?”
She shrugs, hugging the box tighter as the motion makes the cranes shift. “Apparently? They were posting their wips on their Reddit, and then stopped yesterday.”
Speef nods slowly, like they’re trying to picture the painting.
“I’m not really an artist,” she adds, “but watercolors seem like a nightmare to blend.”
“Yeah,” Speef says, shifting the poster tube from one hand to the other. “It’s like… if you mess up once, it’s permanent. No do-overs.”
“Exactly,” she replies, and she’s surprised by how relieved she feels, just talking about something normal. “You ever try painting?”
Speef laughs under their breath. “Only once. Tried to draw my bias and it looked like a cursed sock puppet. I’ve never recovered.”
She snorts, almost chokes. The box of cranes tilts slightly in her arms, and she adjusts it. “You’ve got to post that sometime.”
“Absolutely not. That’s going with me to the grave.”
They fall quiet again, but this time the silence feels easier. The awkward edge dulls, replaced by something shared.
“Hello!” Someone shouts.
They turn. A girl with short teal-dyed hair and earbuds is waving at them, there’s a canvas under her arm, wrapped for transport. Her nails are romance-pink.
“glee-u-t?” She asks?
The girl nods. “Call me Glee. What time is it? I forgot my phone. I was stressing so much.”
She checks. “14:50. You’re early.”
Glee exhales like she’s been holding her breath for the entire ride.
“Okay, good. I thought I was super late. The bus skipped my stop and I had to power-walk like a lunatic.”
She shifts the wrapped canvas under her arm and sits on the fountain ledge beside them, her fingers tapping lightly against the fabric. There’s a nervous energy in her movements. Her eyes keep flicking over in the direction of the studio.
She glances at the canvas. “Is that the painting?”
Glee nods, then hesitates. “I almost didn’t bring it. Been a WIP since the Huntrix livestream. Rushed it to the wire to come here. But I don’t know. I kept thinking about it sitting in my room, just rotting. Ugh.”
She shifts the box. “I saw your progress updates. They looked good.”
Glee smirks. “What’s actually good is your two-hundred something cranes. Girl. That’s insane. I tried folding one and gave up halfway. Paper kept ripping.”
She ducks her head, a little flustered. “They’re not that good. Half of them are uneven, and I bent, like, a dozen wrong before figuring out the folds. It’s more... repetition than skill.”
“Still,” Glee says, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. “That’s time. That’s days. I think that matters more than clean corners.”
Speef nods beside them. “It’s the kind of thing you don’t do unless you mean it.”
That quiets them again. A breeze picks up, tugging gently at Glee’s hair and the edge of the canvas wrap. She tucks it back down automatically.
By 15:00, the last two show up. One in a long black coat with a bouquet of origami roses folded from old Saja Boys album inserts, and another wheeling a tiny suitcase, quiet and overwhelmed.
It’s almost uncanny how much they look alike.
She waves. “Dee2? Refphonk?”
The one with the suitcase smiles. “Yup. I’m Dee. That’s Ref, my brother.”
“Oh!” She says. “No wonder I thought you two look alike.”
Ref laughs. “We get that a lot. This everyone?”
She nods.
They all stand in a loose circle now, the five of them, like a formation. It almost reminds her of that one scene in the Roses MV. Where the camera pans around in the center, a rose in each of the boy’s hands.
She wonders if they’ll find something rotten in that MV too.
Ref gently adjusts the bouquet of folded roses in his hands. Up close, she can see the faint glimmer of foil from the limited edition photobook pages. One of the petals has a tiny, unblinking eye from an old teaser image peeking through the fold.
“These are beautiful,” Glee murmurs.
“They’re from our extras,” Ref says. “We couldn’t just… throw them out.”
Dee opens the suitcase partway to show them what’s inside. Neatly bundled stacks of envelopes, each one tied with silver thread. Some have stickers on the back, fanart sketches, little pressed flowers. Some are wrinkled, the ink clearly run through with emotion.
“They’re all letters?” Speef asks, voice low.
Dee nods. “Some are mine. Most are from people online. I said I’d deliver them.”
“You collected these?” She asks, surprised.
“I just made a post,” Dee shrugs. “It spread.”
No one says anything for a moment. The wind picks up again, tousling everyone’s sleeves and coats, as if the world itself is holding its breath.
“Okay,” she says, finally. She shifts the box in her arms and looks down the block. “You all ready?”
One by one, they nod. Glee presses her canvas a little tighter to her side. Speef adjusts their grip on the poster tube. Ref glances at his brother, who quietly zips the suitcase shut.
“Let’s go,” She says.
And they walk.
They don’t speak the entire journey there.
The block is short, but each step stretches. There’s a strange stillness to the air despite the traffic. No one looks directly at them, and they don’t really look at anyone else. It’s like moving inside a bubble.
SSStudios is tucked behind a line of trees. The front is glass and white stone, tinted windows, chrome signage. It’s clean, with motifs of sunlight patterned across the architecture.
They stop a few steps from the entrance.
No guards. No fans. No one else.
Just them.
For a second, no one moves.
Then Glee steps forward first. She crouches slowly, unwraps the canvas on her knees. It’s not loud, not flashy. The five of them see it at the same time: the moment all branded into their eyes when he sat down, blended beautifully in a color palette of pinks, reds, and blacks. Romance, on the couch, looking at the camera. Not smiling, not dressed up. Just him, chipped nails, messy hair, eyes that scream, “I survived.”
She leans it carefully against the wall, just to the right of the glass door. Then she steps back.
Lilacr kneels, her hands trembling just slightly as she opens the box. The first handful of cranes are a little crushed from the ride but most hold their shape. She places them one by one at the base of the wall, lining them along the edge like a border.
Ref gently places the bouquet of roses in the center. The foil catches the light.
Dee unzips the suitcase last. The letters are placed with quiet ceremony. Stacked with care. Some loose, some in bundles. One envelope floats slightly in the breeze and she catches it before it flies. No one laughs. She just holds it against her chest for a beat, then adds it to the pile.
And that’s it.
They step back. A soft little shrine. Made of paper, ink, and time.
There’s no applause. No photos. No crowd.
Just five people.
“Do we… stay a bit?” Speef asks.
No one answers, not really. But they do.
They stand. They sit. One by one, they pull out small things, like earbuds, snacks, water. They talk, in whispers. About music. About old tour memories. About who cried during Daylight Bloom the first time they heard it live.
And in the middle of it all, the cranes flutter just slightly in the wind, as if listening too.
✦ ✦ ✦
[Culture | Spotlight]
Outside SSStudios, Fans Are Leaving Cranes, Letters, and Silence
by Jae-Hwan Lee, Culture Correspondent
Published: Monday, 9:12 KST
Outside a modest, white-stone building, a shrine has been forming — not of flowers or candles, but of folded paper.
Every Friday at 15:00 KST, a small group gathers near the entrance of SSStudios, the current label of former GM Entertainment artists, the Saja Boys. They come with paper cranes, origami roses, handwritten letters, and sometimes watercolors or photocard scraps reshaped into new forms. There are no chants. No videos. No fanfare.
It began with a Reddit post.
A user named u/lilacr confessed to folding 1,461 cranes — one for each day the group allegedly spent under contract at GM Entertainment, which is now facing investigation over claims of emotional and physical abuse, overwork, and manipulation.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” lilacr wrote. “So I folded a crane for every day they were there.”
Others followed. Now, each week brings new contributions: string lights, concert mementos, snacks and drinks, carefully packed envelopes from fans overseas. A volunteer brings a waterproof tarp when rain is forecasted. Someone reportedly scrubs the tiles clean each Sunday.
On social media, the movement uses the hashtag #1461ForSaja, a reference to the number of days the group reportedly endured before exiting GM.
“It’s not a protest. It’s not a fandom stunt,” said one participant, who asked to remain unnamed. “It’s just us showing up. With love. With regret. With time.”
The Saja Boys have not publicly commented on the shrine or the hashtag. Their label, SSStudios, declined to respond when asked.
But the shrine remains.
In the corner, tucked between a rose bouquet and a line of cranes, one folded letter reads:
“You made it through all 1,461. You don’t owe us anything. But we’ll be here anyway.”
No one moves the letters.
No one takes the cranes.