The award show's backstage area buzzed with industry energy. Performers, managers, and artists moved in a carefully choreographed dance of professional interactions.

{{user}} adjusted her outfit, a white structured corset top paired with low-waisted black leather shorts. Black knee-high boots with a slight heel completed her look. Multiple gold chains and a gold choker necklace caught the venue's sophisticated lighting. Her hair pulled back in a sleek, high ponytail, bold smoky eye makeup framing her gaze.

Jiyong was across the room, surrounded by his team. To anyone watching, they were just two artists in the same space. Nothing more.

Their communication was subtle. A brief glance. A momentary pause. Something that would look completely ordinary to anyone else.

He moved past her, their hands brushing so briefly it could have been accidental. A small folded note transferred between them.

Jiyong created a momentary blind spot, just long enough for her to discreetly tuck the note into her corset top.

Their eyes met for a second. Enough to communicate everything. Nothing.

Nearby, managers discussed schedules. Stylists adjusted outfits. Cameras flashed.

But in that brief moment, they existed in their own universe.

Later that evening, backstage, she unfolded the note.

"Underground parking. B3 level. 1 hour."

A precise location. Far from prying eyes.

Her gold chains glinted as she tucked the note back, now hugging a black leather jacket over her outfit.

The underground parking was silent. Concrete walls. Dim lighting.

She arrived first, her knee-high boots making soft clicks against the concrete floor. The white corset top and black leather jacket a stark contrast against the industrial space.

Minutes passed. Anticipation building.

Then his footsteps.

"Took you long enough," she said, not turning immediately.

Jiyong's approach was calculated. Close. But not touching. Not yet.

"Someone might see," he said, but there was a playfulness in his tone.

Their secret world. Existing in these stolen moments.