I hadn't really gotten any sleep that night. By morning, I arrived on time for the start of my shift at the front desk. A colleague pointed toward the schedule behind him, and I gave him a thankful nod. So there was a change, I thought as I scanned for my name. Wonderful. VIP section next to it. From late afternoon on. This time not handwritten. So I had a double shift.The morning passed like always—filled with calls, emails, and bookings. In the afternoon, I made my way to the conference rooms. A short memo from my supervisor had informed me that the band would be giving an interview.Tasks were clear and simple: discreet, courteous, invisible.
As I walked down the long corridors, I held tight to the stack of documents the event management had sent to the hotel in advance.The event area where these interviews were usually held was tucked away, at the edge of the hotel, right next to the conference rooms. Far from the chaos of the lobby and the busy rhythm of daily life. It was always quiet here.I heard the muffled murmurs from the room ahead, and as I got closer, voices mixed in and stole some of that calm. Inside, things were buzzing. Journalists moving in and out, making their final preparations. Phones were ready to capture anything that might turn important.Two security guards stood in front of the room, looking at me grimly. I showed them my documents after a slight bow. They checked them, nodded, and opened the door. I gave them a small smile and slipped in.
The room was bigger than it looked from the outside. But it was the stage that caught my attention.Red velvet stretched over elegant bar stools, the lighting dimmed, giving everything a soft sheen.Tension lingered in the air like electricity.
I made my round, checking the water supply, arranging fresh glasses, and finally, on a colleague's signal, moved to the side of the stage.Moments later, the doors opened.The entire room seemed to hold its breath—you could've heard a pin drop.
The band walked in, flanked by more security, faces unreadable, their appearances flawless down to the last detail.My gaze found him.Distant and cold, eyes straight ahead toward the stage.
The clicking of cameras echoed softly as they took their seats.Relaxed postures—at first glance. But the tense shoulders, the subtle movement of fingers—those betrayed them.
It wasn't until then that I realized my own hands had been gripping the cold plaster wall behind me. I pulled myself together, stepped forward, and slipped back into the perfect hotel employee.
My gaze slowly wandered over the rows of reporters.They were all here hoping for more than just surface answers.They could smell opportunity—maybe a scandal, maybe a slip-up.Like hyenas circling their prey, ready to pounce.Dangerous, but ultimately just scavengers.
The band members had fallen into their typical poses.Jhio looked casual, but his eyes were sharp—measuring every word before it left his mouth.
The host, a young woman with a perfectly rehearsed smile, began with the usual questions: tour plans, album release date, a few fan questions coming in via livestream.Small talk.
But it didn't take long for the real reason everyone was here to come up.The photo.The one that had gone viral just days ago.
"Well Jhio, let's move on to the question I've already received a hundred times through the stream—and the one we're all curious about. During your last trip, you were seen with a young woman. You two looked… close. If I remember correctly, you even had your arm around her."
Her voice was sweet and calculated.She knew exactly which phrasing would stir the rumors and guarantee attention."So tell us… what's going on there? Do you have a girlfriend?"
A soft murmur moved through the room.Shutters clicked.This—this was what they'd all come for.
"The picture?"Jhio laughed.It was a cold, joyless sound.But no one noticed—no one but me.
"I think it just shows how fast rumors can spread. She's my cousin. She lives in Japan and we had dinner."
"So, no romantic involvement between you two?" the host asked, sounding slightly disappointed. "Is there someone else, then?"
I was listening far too closely.My eyes fixed on him.Was there?
He shook his head slowly, then added with that ever-present smile:
"I think our fans know how hard we work and that we're fully focused on our music. There's little time left for anything else."
The reporters nodded, scribbled down notes, but you could feel it.They weren't satisfied.They didn't want safe answers.They wanted headlines, chaos, drama.
"Jhio," another voice cut in—an older journalist from the crowd, calm but piercing. "Do you never feel the need for more? Maybe… love?"
Jhio paused.Tension thickened.
"To be honest, we just want to focus on our music. I'm sorry if that disappoints you, but not every encounter leaves a mark. Sometimes, like with that picture—it's just what it is. An encounter.I have everything I need.And the fans know that."
His gaze slid from the journalist… to the side.To me.
My eyes widened.What the hell?
A faint smile played at the corners of his lips before he looked back to the host.
"Well, I think that answers the question about the picture and its meaning. Let's move on to the music…"
The interview continued, but I wasn't listening anymore.
Eventually she asked the final question, thanked them, and shook hands with each member before stepping off the stage.The band stood.The room began to empty.Notebooks, cameras, phones, tablets—packed away in a flurry of background noise.
I stayed frozen.My fingers still trembling, the last remnants of that tension lingering from when he'd mentioned the picture.Cousin.It made sense.He wasn't originally from Korea.
I thought of the night I found out.And what followed.
This was why you didn't let feelings control you.
The band moved toward the doors, security clearing the path.He walked a little behind, putting distance between himself and the others.As he passed me, time seemed to slow.His scent hit me—cedarwood and something sweet I couldn't name.
His pace didn't change.But suddenly, he turned his head—just a fraction.
"Always such a distraction,"he murmured as he walked by.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thank you for reading—every view, every whisper, I see it. <3Tomorrow, the descent continues. And maybe... we cross a line we can't return from.