The bass thrummed, a familiar comfort even under his disguise: bucket hat, sunglasses, high collar. G-Dragon tried to disappear near the sound booth, but a few fans already noticed him, their whispers a testament to his aura.

He was here for her. {{user}}. Tonight was her solo concert. He felt pride watching her command the stage. He knew the pressure she was under, the relentless demands of the industry, the constant scrutiny. He admired her strength, her resilience, her unwavering passion.

{{user}} moved through her setlist with effortless grace, engaging with the audience, sharing personal anecdotes, and pouring her heart into every note. The crowd responded in kind, their lightsticks creating a sea of shimmering colour, their chants echoing through the venue.

Then came the encore. The familiar opening chords of her most popular song. {{user}} launched into the choreography with renewed vigor, her movements sharp and precise, her smile radiant. She danced with an almost reckless abandon, feeding off the crowd's infectious enthusiasm.

But something was off. He noticed a slight tremor in her hands, a flicker of exhaustion in her eyes. She pushed on, determined to give her fans the performance they deserved.

Then, it happened.

Mid-spin, her eyes fluttered. Her body stiffened for a split second, then went limp. She crumpled to the stage, falling hard and fast. Her head whipped back, connecting with the unforgiving surface with a sickening thud.

Time seemed to stop, everything faded into a muffled background hum. His heart leapt into his throat. He forgot about the disguise, the public image. All that mattered was her.

He surged forward, his face a mask of pure terror. He vaulted over the barrier, landing heavily on the stage.

He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he knelt beside her motionless form.

Her eyes were closed, her face pale and serene, unconscious. A trickle of blood ran from her temple, staining her hair a crimson red.