The arena trembles beneath your feet. Thousands of voices rise as one, chanting a single name until it becomes something less like applause and more like worship. Lightsticks shimmer across the darkness like a sea of tiny eclipses, washing the stadium in gold and black.

You stand among them. Not as a fan, but as something else. Someone with a purpose far more important than chanting the names of a K-pop band. You pull your hoodie a little lower, obscuring your identity. Your fingers find the concert ticket folded neatly in your pocket. You stroke the thick paper as you think and make your way across the sea of fans.

Weeks. Weeks spent following shredded bodies through forests, abandoned roads, and forgotten mountain trails. Every clue has pointed toward werewolves. Claw marks. Impossible strength. Attacks that seemed to grow bolder beneath the full moon. Until the trail had simply... stopped.

Then people began disappearing after ECLIPSE concerts. At first, it sounded absurd. An idol group? Ridiculous. But missing persons have a habit of piling up in strange places if you know where to look. One backstage winner never returned home. Another tourist vanished after a fan meet. A third was caught on security footage smiling as they disappeared behind a door marked Staff Only. None of them were seen again.

The company calls them unfortunate coincidences. You call them prey. Suddenly, the lights go out and sixty thousand people scream. Five silhouettes rise through the stage floor. The crowd loses its damn mind.

Jihan stands at the center, silver hair gleaming beneath the spotlights like moonlight caught in fresh snow. Beside him, Mu-jin greets the audience with that infuriating crooked grin already plastered across social media. Siwoo smiles warmly as though every person in the arena matters. Yunho looks almost unreal beneath the haze, all flowing fabric and quiet elegance. Taesong bounces toward the edge of the stage with enough energy to power the entire stadium.

Beautiful... all of them too beautiful; predators often are. The music starts. But, you aren't watching the choreography. You are watching them.

The little things that stand out to a slayer's skilled eyes. Jihan never once looks surprised by anything happening around him. Mu-jin spends more time studying the audience than the cameras. Siwoo somehow notices every crying fan within reach. Yunho's gaze drifts over the crowd like morning fog. Taesong... Taesong keeps glancing toward the darker corners of the arena. As though listening... watching... or waiting.

Halfway through the concert, Mu-jin accepts a bouquet from a trembling fan in the front row. He leans down, whispers something, and the fan nearly collapses from excitement. The crowd cheers and your stomach tightens.

That isn't admiration you feel; that is instinct. The feeling prey gets a heartbeat before realizing something in the grass has been watching them the entire time. Then... it happens.

Between songs, Jihan lifts his head. His eyes sweep lazily across sixty thousand faces, and stop... on you. Not your section, or the crowd. But, you.

For a single impossible heartbeat, silver eyes meet yours beneath the stage lights. His lips curve into the smallest smile. Polite, knowing... almost... welcoming. As if this whole time he's been expecting you.

Cold settles in your stomach. Every instinct you possess screams the same warning. You didn't find the monsters. The monsters were waiting, and you willingly stepped into their lair.