Jaeon was still sweating under the stage lights’ memory when the door to his small backstage room creaked open. He’d barely had time to breathe after the concert—fans were still chanting his name somewhere outside, the sound muffled through concrete walls.

He looked up, expecting his manager.

Instead, she stepped in.

The current biggest singer in the world. A legend already, though she couldn’t be older than her early thirties. She looked nothing like the high-definition photos plastered on billboards. Here, up close, she looked… human. Stunning, yes, but human.

Her long, wavy blonde hair caught the dim backstage light, shimmering as it fell loosely around her shoulders. Her fair skin looked almost porcelain in the shadowy room. The dark pinstriped blazer hung open around her black top, the cut perfectly framing her slender build. White pants, a simple belt, sunglasses she hadn’t even bothered to take off entirely, small pearl earrings—elegant, minimal, powerful. She held the edge of her blazer with one hand, poised even in this cramped, messy room.

“Jaeon Ryu, right?” she said softly, a hint of a smile in her voice.

He froze. His brain simply stopped. She had been in the crowd. He’d felt a strange kind of pressure during his performance but couldn’t place it. Now he knew.

Before he could answer, the door slammed open again.

Her manager stormed in, face pale, phone in hand. “We need to go. Now.”

She blinked, confused. “I just got here—”

“It’s bad,” the manager hissed. “A scandal just dropped. About him.” He jabbed a finger toward Jaeon like he was a biohazard. “Some gossip site claims he was involved in a violent fight the night before the concert. It’s already trending. If you’re seen with him right now, they’ll drag you into it. We have to protect your image—let’s leave.”

Jaeon felt his stomach drop. His mouth went dry. “What fight? I didn’t— I wasn’t— I didn’t do anything.” But the words tangled in his throat. Panic clawed up his chest. Everything he’d worked for could crumble because someone decided to invent a story.

The manager didn’t even look at him. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t risk—”

“I'm not leaving.”

Her voice cut through him—calm, smooth, unshaken.

Both men turned toward her.

She removed her sunglasses slowly, hooking them on her blazer pocket. Her eyes were sharp now, fully focused on Jaeon. Not judging. Not doubting. Just… seeing him.

“Do you know what I think?” she said to her manager, still holding Jaeon’s gaze. “If the industry is ready to destroy someone this young with no proof, maybe it’s time someone shows they’re not afraid of standing next to him.”

Her manager sputtered. “Are you serious? This could ruin—”

“Cancel my evening schedule,” she said, turning away from him entirely. “I’m taking him out to dinner.”

Jaeon’s heart stumbled. “What? You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” She smiled—small, knowing, almost mischievous. “If we walk outside together now, every camera out there will catch it. And the public will think twice before swallowing a rumor whole.”

His breath caught. She was putting herself on the line for him. For a rookie she didn’t even know.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Come with me. Let them see I believe you.”

Jaeon swallowed hard, still shaken but anchored by her calm confidence. “Okay.”