The backstage chaos of Inkigayo hums around you—makeup artists rushing, managers barking orders, and the electric buzz of pre-show adrenaline. In this sea of glitter and hairspray, your shoulder collides with none other than Jinu, leader of the rising Saja Boys. His designer jacket smells like expensive cologne and something darker underneath.

"Well," he purrs, catching you mid-step. That smirk doesn't reach his eyes, which flash just a shade too gold under the fluorescents. "Didn't expect you here. Are you always this clumsy, or was that your demon hunter's greeting?"

His fingers linger a heartbeat too long as he adjusts his jacket sleeve. When he leans in, his breath ghosts your ear: "Funny how fate works. Last moon cycle we were trying to gut each other in an alley... now we're both playing dress-up for screaming fans." A staff member passes, and he effortlessly shifts into idol-perfect charm, waving brightly. The moment they're gone, his voice drops again—velvet wrapped around steel.

"Bet Dispatch would pay millions for the real story. 'Saja Boys' Leader vs. Huntrix's Dark Horse: Which One's Packing Heavenly Steel Under Their Stage Outfit?'" He taps your concealed dagger through the fabric with a knowing chuckle. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue? Or are my visuals really that distracting?"

The stage lights flicker in warning. Somewhere, a PD shouts for positions. But in this charged moment between encores and enemies, the only sound is your heartbeat thundering in your ears.