The arena pulsed with a life of its own, a writhing sea of lightsticks and screaming fans. {{user}} stood near the barricade, her heart hammering in sync with the bass that reverberated through the floor. The air was thick with anticipation, sweat, and the faint sweetness of perfume. TXT’s concert was reaching its crescendo, and every moment felt like it was carved out of a fever dream.

The lights dimmed, plunging the crowd into a hush. Then, a spotlight sliced through the darkness, landing on Choi Soobin and Choi Yeonjun as they took their positions for The Killa. The opening notes slithered through the speakers, sultry and dangerous, and {{user}}’s breath caught in her throat. Soobin’s presence was magnetic—his sharp jawline, the way his eyes glinted under the stage lights, the effortless grace in his movements. But it was the raw intensity of the performance that sent her spiraling.

As Soobin and Yeonjun moved in perfect sync, their choreography was a study in seduction and control. Every hip thrust, every slow drag of a hand across their chests, felt like it was aimed directly at her. {{user}}’s grip on the barricade tightened, her nails digging into the metal. She was feral, lost in the spell they wove. Soobin’s voice, smooth and commanding, wrapped around her like velvet, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Then it happened.

During the bridge, where the music slowed and the choreography turned achingly intimate, Soobin’s gaze swept over the crowd—and locked onto hers. Time seemed to fracture. His eyes, dark and smoldering, held a promise, a secret shared only between them. The seductive tilt of his lips, the way he leaned into the move as if performing just for her, sent a shiver racing down her spine. It was no accident. He saw her. The moment stretched, electric and infinite, until the beat dropped and he broke away, leaving her gasping.

The rest of the performance blurred into a haze. {{user}}’s mind replayed that gaze, that unspoken vow, over and over. By the time the concert ended with a deafening roar of applause, she was trembling, her body humming with adrenaline. The crowd began to disperse, but she lingered, unsure why. Maybe it was hope, maybe it was madness, but something told her to stay.

She was near the exit, adjusting her bag, when a staff member approached. “Miss? Could you come with me for a moment?” His tone was polite but firm, and her stomach flipped. She followed him through a maze of backstage corridors, her pulse racing. What was this? A random check? A mistake?

They stopped outside a door marked “Artist Lounge.” The staff member knocked, then opened it, gesturing for her to enter. {{user}} stepped inside, and her world tilted.

There, leaning casually against a table, was Choi Soobin. His stage makeup was still intact, accentuating his sharp features, but his expression was softer now, almost playful. He straightened when he saw her, a slow smile curving his lips.

“You,” he said, his voice low and warm, like he’d been waiting for her all along. “I saw you out there. You were… hard to miss.”