POV: Ryu Minho
The stage lights were blinding, throwing streaks of gold and white across the polished floor. The roar of the crowd was deafening, a wall of noise that both fueled and terrified me. My hands gripped the microphone as if it were a lifeline, but inside, I was anything but steady.
Every fiber of me ached—not from the choreography, not from the vocal strain, but from the tension that had been building for weeks. The secret. Hyunwoo's warning. Ara. Jihoon. And that impossible longing that had bloomed between Ara and me on the movie set months ago.
I remembered it vividly. The dim studio lights. Her voice, warm and vulnerable, harmonizing effortlessly with mine. The subtle brush of our hands as we passed microphones. The way her eyes softened when I complimented her technique. That night, between takes, we had laughed over our awkward mistakes, our shoulders brushing, hearts hammering. It had been a dangerous, forbidden spark, but undeniable. Somewhere, in the quiet of that studio, we had fallen for each other. And now, every time I looked at her from a distance, I was reminded that love in this world was never simple.
---
POV: Han Ara
I watched from the side of the stage, my own performance complete. The song I had just performed—a heartfelt ballad—was written for him, for Minho. Every note carried the weight of my unspoken feelings, the moments on the movie set, the duet, the secret smiles. I had tried to keep my composure in front of the fans, but inside, my chest ached, twisting with longing and frustration.
And then I saw him. On the main stage, moving through the choreography perfectly, smiling at the cameras, giving the crowd everything—but not me. His eyes were empty, focused, professional—but I could see it if I looked closely. That flicker of guilt. That subtle tension in his shoulders. He was performing for Syndicate, for the fans, for Hyunwoo—but the person he truly wanted to be with was me.
And I hated it.
---
POV: Ryu Minho
The concert began in full swing. The lights shifted from soft amber to harsh white, strobes flashing in rhythm with the beat. Jisoo and Taeyang were beside me, trying to distract the audience and lighten the mood with playful gestures, exaggerated smiles, and comic antics during the instrumental breaks.
"Minho! Smile!" Jisoo yelled from the corner of the stage, winking. "Pretend you're enjoying life!"
Taeyang added, whispering into my earpiece, "Or at least pretend you don't want to strangle Jihoon!"
I managed a small, forced grin. My lips moved, but inside, my heart was pounding. Every step, every movement, every note I sang reminded me of Ara and the distance I had created between us. Hyunwoo's words echoed in my mind: Put the group first. Protect Syndicate.
So I swallowed the ache, forcing my performance into perfection, leaving my emotions buried deep.
---
POV: Han Ara
The crowd's cheers were loud, but they couldn't drown out my racing thoughts. Jihoon lingered near me during the fan meet, leaning casually with a grin that was too polished, too calculated. I tried to ignore him, focusing on the next interaction, but my mind kept drifting to Minho.
He had avoided me all day, every glance, every cue, every note on stage carefully measured. And I felt the sting of it, the cruel necessity that pulled him away.
I clenched my fists, stepping back behind the curtain, trying not to cry. But even as I watched him perform, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the flicker of guilt in his eyes. He was suffering as much as I was—and yet, he kept the distance between us.
---
POV: Ryu Minho
During the bridge of our main performance, Jihoon approached Ara under the pretense of adjusting her microphone. His proximity made my chest tighten, my stomach twist. I wanted to intervene, to pull her away, to tell her everything—but I couldn't. Not now.
Hyunsoo's voice came through my earpiece: "Minho, stay focused. Don't ruin it for the group. And whatever happens with Jihoon, leave it to me."
I nodded, swallowing my frustration, keeping my face neutral. My movements became sharper, more precise, almost mechanical. The crowd saw a perfect idol. What they didn't see was the war raging inside me—the jealousy, the longing, the helplessness.
---
POV: Han Ara
After the performance, fans flooded the online forums. Rumors spread like wildfire: Minho had intentionally ignored me, had been cold and distant. Anti-fans erupted, attacking both of us, while some loyal fans tried to defend the secrecy of our bond.
Jihoon's smirk only worsened the pain. He knew exactly how to push buttons, how to exploit the tension between us. Every smile he directed at me felt like a cruel reminder of Minho's absence.
And yet, despite the chaos, I couldn't stop thinking of him—the moments on the movie set, our secret duet, the way our voices had blended into something magical. Those memories were the only thing keeping me grounded.
---
POV: Ryu Minho
Backstage, I collapsed into a chair, chest heaving. Jisoo and Taeyang hovered nearby, attempting to lighten the mood.
"You look like a ghost," Jisoo whispered. "A very handsome ghost."
"Thanks," I muttered, not even managing a smile.
Hyunsoo stepped forward, his presence grounding me. "You did the right thing out there, technically," he said. "But don't pretend your heart isn't breaking. Ara will notice. Jihoon will notice. The fans will notice. You survive now, and you fix the rest later."
I closed my eyes, wishing I could rewind, wishing I could sing to her without fear, wishing I could hold her hand and tell her that none of it mattered—Syndicate, Hyunwoo, Jihoon, or even CEO Park—if she was there.
---
POV: Han Ara
I stayed behind the curtains after the last encore, watching him from afar. He was leaning against a pillar, shoulders tense, fists clenched. That familiar aura of longing and guilt hung around him. I wanted to reach out, to embrace him, but I didn't.
Instead, I whispered to myself, "I know, Minho. I know you're protecting Syndicate. And I know you're protecting me, too, in your own way."
I could feel our melody, the invisible thread between us, pulling tighter with every passing moment. Dangerous. Forbidden. Unstoppable.
---
Ending Scene:
That night, alone in our respective apartments, we replayed every moment. Every glance, every step, every note on stage, every unspoken word.
The duet we had recorded, the laughter on the movie set, the stolen glances behind the cameras—it was alive, pulsing between us like a forbidden symphony.
Neither of us could sleep. Neither of us could let go. And deep down, we both knew the truth: the collapsing stage wasn't the end—it was only the beginning of a storm that would test Syndicate, our love, and our hearts.