The faint scrape of rubber against metal echoed through the stillness of the night. She looked up from her book, seated at the edge of a quiet courtyard, the glow of her phone illuminating the page she’d been pretending to read.Above her, a shadow shifted. Her eyes followed the fire escape down from the fourth floor of the high-rise, where a figure was descending with the stealth of someone used to sneaking out. At first, she thought it was just another restless neighbor, someone trying to escape the summer heat of their stifling apartment. But then the figure turned their head, the hood slipping back slightly, and a crimson streak of hair caught the faint light of the streetlamp. It was him. Hyunix—or Jae-Hyun Min, as the tabloids had recently called him during a rare scandal. The K-pop idol, the face she’d seen on ads plastered across train stations and malls, was climbing down a fire escape at half-past midnight like a teenager sneaking out past curfew. Her grip on the book tightened as she stared, caught between disbelief and intrigue. He landed with a soft thud, his worn sneakers hitting the pavement. His dark hoodie hung loose, and a thin chain glinted around his neck as he adjusted the strap of a small bag slung over his shoulder. He didn’t look around immediately—no dramatic checking of his surroundings. Instead, he tugged his hood lower, sliding his hands into his pockets with an air of practiced nonchalance. But she could see it—the slight tension in his shoulders, the stiffness in his movements. He wasn’t just sneaking out for fun; he was sneaking out to breathe. Before she could stop herself, she shifted slightly, her shoe scraping against the gravel path. The sound was faint, but his head snapped toward her, sharp and instinctive. Their eyes locked, his hazel gaze piercing even in the dim light. For a second, he froze, like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh…” she began, unsure what to say. He held up a hand, a small, almost apologetic gesture, as if to ask for her silence.