[No-Ah]
Apparently attending one concert had transformed Min-Ji into a full-time investigator.
"No-Ah."
"No."
"You don't even know the question."
"I know enough."
They were walking down the sidewalk.
Min-Ji pointed dramatically.
"He looked at you."
"He looked at everyone."
"He winked at you."
"He winked at the crowd."
"There were twelve thousand people."
"Exactly."
"That doesn't support your argument."
"It supports mine."
"No, it doesn't."
"It really does."
Min-Ji looked deeply offended.
For approximately three seconds.
Then—
"Are you secretly dating him?"
"No."
"Have you dated him?"
"No."
"Do you want to date him?"
"No."
"That answer was suspiciously fast."
"Min-Ji."
"Right. Sorry."
A pause.
Then—
"How often do you talk?"
"No."
"You still didn't answer."
"No."
"You're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you refuse to answer because the answer is interesting."
No-Ah groaned.
Min-Ji looked delighted.
"OH."
"Don't."
"YOU TALK TO HIM REGULARLY."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
By the time they reached her apartment building, No-Ah was considering throwing him into traffic.
Not enough to actually do it.
But enough to think about it.
Min-Ji stopped at the entrance.
Folded his arms.
And gave her a serious look.
For the first time all night.
"No-Ah."
She sighed.
"What?"
His grin returned immediately.
"If you ever marry a celebrity, I want credit."
"Goodnight, Min-Ji."
The door closed in his face.
His laughter echoed through the lobby.
No-Ah hated him.
And had she mentioned that he stayed in the same condominium as her?
☆ ☆ ☆
Her apartment was quiet.
Peaceful.
Finally.
No screaming fans.
No concerts.
No Min-Ji.
Just silence.
No-Ah dropped onto her bed.
And stared at the ceiling.
The concert replayed itself in her head.
The performances.
The crowd.
The lights.
The completely unnecessary winking.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Yun-Ra.
DID HE REALLY WINK AT YOU???
No-Ah immediately threw the phone aside.
How did she even know that?
She wasn't dealing with that.
Not tonight.
A few minutes later, she picked it up again.
Opened her contacts.
Found Kei's name.
And hesitated.
Then pressed call.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
No answer.
Eventually it went to voicemail.
No-Ah frowned.
Weird.
He'd just finished a concert.
Maybe he was busy.
Maybe he was asleep.
Maybe—
Her phone remained silent.
No callback.
Nothing.
For some reason, that bothered her.
☆ ☆ ☆
[Kei]
The dressing room door shut.
Hard.
The sound echoed through the room.
Kei didn't look up.
He already knew who it was.
Across from him, his manager looked exhausted.
Which wasn't a good sign.
Not even slightly.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then—
"You ignored me."
Kei closed his eyes.
There it was.
Mrs. Yoon's voice was calm.
Far too calm.
The dangerous kind of calm.
The kind that usually happened right before a disaster.
"You ignored every warning I gave you."
Kei remained silent.
"Do you think people don't notice these things?"
Still nothing.
"Do you think cameras don't exist?"
Kei's jaw tightened.
Because that was the problem.
There had been videos.
Fan videos.
Photos.
Clips.
Thousands of them.
And unfortunately—
A lot of them included him looking toward one specific section.
One specific person.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Mrs. Yoon placed a tablet on the table.
The screen was filled with posts.
Comments.
Videos.
Questions.
Speculation.
Kei looked away.
"I told you to keep your distance."
"I know."
"No. You don't."
For the first time, there was actual frustration in her voice.
"One rumor can destroy years of work."
The room fell silent.
His manager stared at the floor.
Not wanting to be involved.
Kei swallowed.
The excitement from the concert felt very far away now.
Mrs. Yoon sighed.
Suddenly sounding older.
More tired.
"Do you know why I gave that order?"
Kei didn't answer.
Because he knew.
Of course he knew.
"No-Ah isn't part of this industry."
The words landed heavily.
"She doesn't understand how cruel people can be."
Kei stared at the wall.
"You'll survive a rumor."
Mrs. Yoon's voice softened.
"She might not."
That one hurt.
More than he expected.
Because she wasn't wrong.
Not even a little.
Mrs. Yoon watched him for a moment.
Then quietly asked,
"Do you think she deserves to deal with this?"
Kei frowned.
"What?"
"The rumors."
Her voice remained calm.
"The cameras. The comments. The strangers deciding who she is because they saw her standing next to you."
Kei looked away.
"Nothing's happened."
"Not yet."
The answer came immediately.
"That's the point."
Silence.
Mrs. Yoon folded her arms.
"You've spent your entire career learning how to live with attention."
Kei's jaw tightened.
"She hasn't."
Another silence.
Then—
"If people decide she's important to you, they'll find her."
The room felt smaller.
"They'll follow her."
Kei didn't answer.
"They'll photograph her."
Still nothing.
"They'll make up stories about her."
His hands clenched.
Mrs. Yoon sighed.
And for the first time that evening, she sounded less like a CEO and more like someone genuinely worried.
"Kei."
He finally looked up.
Her expression softened.
"If you care about her..."
The words landed harder than he expected.
"...then leave her alone."
The room went completely still.
For a second, something defensive rose in his chest.
"That's not fair."
Mrs. Yoon's eyebrow lifted.
"No?"
"I haven't done anything."
"You looked at her half the concert."
Kei immediately opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Because unfortunately—
That wasn't a fight he could win.
Mrs. Yoon continued.
"I'm not saying you're a bad person."
Her voice remained gentle.
"I'm saying your life is dangerous for people who aren't prepared for it."
Kei looked away.
Because every argument he wanted to make sounded weaker the longer he thought about it.
She was right.
He hated that she was right.
And somehow—
That made it worse.
☆ ☆ ☆