Page 102 of K-Pop Double Life

His hand found mine beneath the coffee table. “You thought I was dying.”

I looked away because that made it worse, not better.

Sun-hee-noona cleared her throat. “The photographs have spread everywhere. Along with a lot of commentary from fans.”

Sang-hoon squeezed my hand as she showed us her screen. The first read, “That’s Jin’s stylist! Is he some kind of judoka? He saved Jin.”

Another read “I’ve never seen Jin look at anyone like that.” A third read, “If someone risked his life for me, I’d hold him too.”

There were more, in many different languages from Korean to English to Portuguese.

Sun-hee-noona sighed. “There are a few negative comments, mostly from women who are disappointed to have lost Jin to another man. But they aren’t dominating the conversation.”

I frowned. “They aren’t?”

“No.” She smiled faintly. “Most people are talking about the attack. Or about Sang-hoon. And how nice it is to see a couple in love.”

I looked at Eun-ji.

“What does Starhouse want us to do?”

She answered without hesitation. “Nothing.”

I blinked. “Nothing?”

“We leave for Seoul in a half hour.” She folded her hands. “The flight home will take almost a full day. Twenty-four hours is an eternity online.”

Sun-hee-noona nodded. “By the time we land we hope there will be another scandal. Another rumor. Another celebrity trending.”

“And if there isn’t?” I asked.

Eun-ji’s voice remained calm. “Then at least we buy ourselves time. Right now the story is simple. A stylist saved his artist’s life. A frightened idol embraced the man who saved him.”

She met my eyes. “If we issue a statement today, we change the story.”

I understood. The company wasn’t protecting us. It was protecting itself.

But there was something else in her expression. Not approval. Not disapproval.

Patience. “As for what happens in Seoul...” she said quietly.

Her gaze shifted from me to Sang-hoon and back again. “That isn’t a decision we have to make while you’re still bleeding.”

For the first time since I saw Sang-hoon fall to the floor, I felt my breathing slow.

Twenty-four hours. Not forever. Just enough time to think.

After a very long flight to Los Angeles, where we refueled and had the chance to get off the plane and stretch our legs in a city where no one was expecting us, Sang-hoon and I checked the socials again.

“We’re still trending,” I said, as we looked at his phone together. “What do you think that means?”

“I have no idea,” Sang-hoon said.

Sunday June 7, 2026

An hour before landing at Incheon, I stood and stretched.

I’d left Seoul as Jin from Pryzm, international K-pop star, center of a group that had sold out stadiums across Europe and America. I was coming back as someone who might die onstage in front of fifty thousand people. If I survived, the scandal of my love for Sang-hoon might destroy my life as an idol.