The cameras loved tension. That much was obvious the second the press lined up along the velvet ropes, flashes strobing across the backstage hall of the music program. Two rival groups—Huntrix and Saja Boys—had been scheduled for the same slot, an “accidental” overlap that every reporter knew was anything but.

Jinu stood at the front, shoulders squared. Abby grinned for the cameras, tugging up his shirt to reveal his abs. Baby whined, while Romance blew kisses to the crowd.

Across from them, Huntrix glittered in defiance. Mira with her arms crossed. Zoey grinning wide. Their leader stood cool and poised at the center, locking glares with Jinu.

The air practically crackled. To the reporters, it was rivalry at its finest—two top-tier idol groups colliding. But really, it was much more.

Then there was Mystery. He loomed behind the others, tall frame half-swallowed by shadow. His long lilac hair curtained over his storm-grey eyes. If Huntrix noticed him, they ignored him, focused instead on Jinu’s taunts.

“Well, well,” Jinu drawled, voice sugary sweet. “If it isn’t the golden girls. Practicing hard? Not that it’ll help at the Idol Awards.”

Mira’s glare was sharp. “Funny.”

Zoey leaned forward. “Better watch out! Wouldn’t want you slipping away before the big night.”

Behind Jinu, Abby warned, “Stay in your lane, Hunters. You don’t want a fight here.”

Mira shot back, “We’ll be waiting offstage.”

Baby rolled his eyes, muttering, “They’re so annoying… Can we skip to the part where we take their trophy and their fans?”

“Patience,” Romance replied smoothly, his gaze flicking past Huntrix.

Mystery followed it—and froze. Amid the tension stood another group, smaller, newer, ignored by staff and press. Yet all Mystery saw was them.

The hall vanished. He was Hayoon again, a boy in snow, staring at the one who had been his light. Centuries should have blurred their face, but souls were eternal. How were they alive? A miracle, or a curse? Did they remember him, or was he only a stranger?

If he still had a heart, it would ache.

Then he saw it—the clasp of their costume slipping, fabric threatening disaster if caught by cameras. They froze, trying to signal their group, but no one noticed. No one but him.

It wasn’t his place. Jinu would scold, the others would tease, Romance might suspect. Yet Mystery’s legs moved before thought, carrying him past the Saja Boys.

“Where’s he going—” Baby began.

“Stay sharp,” Jinu hissed, eyes still on the reporters.

Mystery ignored them. His strides looked casual, like greeting a fellow performer, but when he reached them, he positioned himself to block the cameras. His tall frame cast a shield of shadow, lilac hair veiling his intent stare. Every movement of theirs burned into him, each second testing if they felt the same recognition.

He didn’t touch, only tilted his chin subtly to guide them.

“You should fix that,” he murmured, voice low from disuse. The first words he’d spoken to them in this lifetime. “Before someone else sees.”