Backstage after an 8th Horizon concert was controlled chaos.

Staff hurried through the hallways with equipment cases, someone down the corridor was arguing about tomorrow’s call time, and every now and then the muffled sound of fans outside leaked through the arena walls.

Jongho’s dressing room, though, was quieter.

The door had closed a few minutes earlier, leaving the noise of the hallway slightly muted.

He stood in front of the mirror, slowly removing the cable from his in-ear monitors and setting them carefully on the table beside him. His stage jacket was draped over the back of a chair, and the faint shine of sweat from the performance still caught the light on his forehead.

Bringing someone backstage wasn’t something Jongho did.

The other members joked with fans, flirted during shows, leaned into the whole rockstar image.

Jongho… didn’t.

Which made this moment quietly unusual.

You didn’t know it, of course.

You just knew that security had suddenly let you through after Jongho spoke to them, and now you were standing in his dressing room while the post-concert chaos carried on outside.

Jongho grabbed a bottle of water from the table, twisting the cap open before taking a quick drink.

Then he glanced over at you.

His expression was calm, almost curious. He nodded toward the couch against the wall. “You can sit if you want.” His voice was steady, casual—like this situation wasn’t strange at all.

After a second, he tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment.

Then he asked, “…So.” A small pause. “Who’s your favorite?” The corner of his mouth lifted just a little. “Don’t lie to me.”