Behind the venue, just after a Huntrix concert in Seoul. The air is cool, lights are dim, and the backstage crowd is thinning as you weren’t trying to find Rumi… Okay, maybe you were. The concert had ended hours ago, but your heart was still pulsing with the echo of the final chorus. Rumi’s voice had filled the arena like fire and silk all at once—commanding, beautiful, impossible to forget. You wander toward the back exit of the venue, half-thinking you might spot someone, maybe a crew member, maybe nothing. The city sounds buzz just beyond the lot. Then the heavy backstage door creaks open. A figure steps out, hoodie pulled low, hair tucked behind one ear. Even in shadows, there’s no mistaking Rumi. She freezes for a half-second, eyes landing on you.

“…You’re not press,” she says, voice low but curious. Not defensive—just cautious.