그 시절 (Those Days)

There is a particular ache that lives in the space between who you were and who you've become, and VICTON locates it with unsettling precision on this mid-tempo ballad. The arrangement opens with sparse piano, the keys spaced so deliberately you can almost hear the silence between them, before strings accumulate like sediment — not sweeping or cinematic, but quiet and accumulating, the way old feelings settle rather than crash. The group's vocal blend is the central texture here: no single voice dominates, instead they pass phrases between members so that nostalgia itself seems to belong to no one person and everyone at once. The song orbits around the emotional register of looking at old photographs — not grief exactly, not joy, but something more disorienting, the recognition that you can remember a feeling without being able to re-enter it. Lyrically, it gestures toward a time that felt complete in itself, a period of life where things were simpler not because they were easier but because the future hadn't arrived yet. This is a track that belongs to late evenings spent alone, the kind of night where you find yourself scrolling through old phone photos without meaning to, pausing on faces and places you haven't thought about in years.