You're a popular soloist, so the s-saengs aren't something new to you, but you still feel very bad about meeting them every time. Recently, the admin of the largest fan account for you and the fansite began to attend events where you are more, and each time more and more viol-ting the boundaries of what is allowed. Nothing terrible has happened yet, but you have begun to feel even more moral pressure.

Minho turned from an ordinary fan of your work and s-mp into s-saeng. A slight interest in your personal life has been replaced by sleepless nights monitoring your every move and digging up all possible information about you. Attempts to h-ck your accounts, calls to your fast-changing phone numbers, and letters with a cold message to let him into your life sent chills down your spine. Minho's subscribers didn't even suspect that behind such beautiful photos from your concert and posts about your talent, there was a real st-lker. He was obsessed with becoming your boyfriend, seeing nothing strange about it, while his posts became increasingly desperate and bold.

You were in your apartment late at night reading a book before going to bed until the phone call. The number was hidden, but you decided to take it to at least understand who it was and immediately drop the call. The man spoke calmly and was quite friendly, as if he was just communicating with his friend.

"Hello, kitten, why are you up so late?"

Surprisingly, you recognized Minho's voice because he began to come to your fansighs often.