Page 62 of K-Pop Double Life

Sang-hoon’s contact information sat at the top of my messages, unbearably ordinary.

I opened the thread. Years of practical conversations. Call times. Wardrobe emergencies. Schedule changes.

And threaded through all of it, quieter things. A photograph of a sunset with no explanation. A single heart after our first music show win. A message at three in the morning the night before debut. You’re going to be amazing.

I closed my eyes.

Only one week. That was all we’d had.

One week of finally being honest with each other after years of silence and restraint and pretending proximity didn’t mean what it meant.

One week before fear had destroyed it.

Suddenly I was angry. At that photographer, for whatever she did to cause problems. At whoever was behind her, orchestrating danger. At the world, for putting me in this position.

And at Sang-hoon, for abandoning me when I needed him most.

I couldn’t keep living in this suspended state where I was grieving someone who was still alive. I pulled out my phone and opened a new message. I stared at the empty text box for so long my screen dimmed. Then I typed.

You left because you thought it would protect me.

I stared at the words. Added another line. It didn’t.

Then: I’ve never felt more distracted or more vulnerable in my life.

My thumb hovered. One last addition.

I don’t know if I can forgive you yet. But I need you to understand that leaving didn’t save me. It just broke both of us.

I read it twice. Then hit send before I lost my nerve. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then three dots appeared.

24

FAULT LINES

AIDAN — LONDON

At the security briefing on Friday night after the O2 concert, I connected my phone to a hotel projector and displayed a photo of Sophie Tran on the screen.

There was an audible gasp from some of the members. “She took our photos in Paris,” Tae said.

“That’s true,” I said. “She is a photographer. She’s also working for whoever is putting you all in danger.”

Jin stared at the screen. “What was she doing at the arena?”

“According to Sophie, she believed she’d been hired as part of a private security audit.”

That got everyone’s attention. “A what?” Haneul asked.

“Someone approached her through a freelance contact she’d worked with before. She was told Starhouse wanted an independent vulnerability assessment of venue security before the U.S. leg of the tour. Her assignment was to test access points, identify weak areas backstage, and document how close an unauthorized person could get to the group.”

“That’s insane,” Tae said.

“It’s also a lie,” Jason muttered.

“Possibly,” I said. “But it’s consistent with what we found on her phone. Photos of service corridors. Security checkpoints. Loading dock access. Credential scans.”