The hallway outside the dressing rooms was still buzzing with post-concert chaos.

Crew members rushed past with equipment cases, someone from production was talking loudly about tomorrow’s call time, and the rest of 8th Horizon had already disappeared somewhere down the hall, still riding the adrenaline from the show.

Mingi hadn’t.

You spotted him almost immediately.

He was leaning against the wall a few feet away from the dressing room door, arms folded across his chest, long legs stretched out in front of him like he had nowhere else to be.

When he noticed you approaching, his eyes followed you for a moment before he finally spoke.

“…You watched San’s solo.”

His voice was casual, but the way he said it made it sound more like an accusation than an observation.

Mingi tilted his head slightly, looking down at you.

“I saw you.”

A short pause.

Then he added, quieter but somehow more pointed—

“But when my part came up you were talking to staff.”

He shifted his weight off the wall, pushing himself upright, though his arms stayed crossed.

“…You didn’t see it, did you?”