The Seoul skyline glittered like a galaxy brought down to earth, its lights pulsing in time with the electric hum of the city. You adjusted the strap of your dress, a sleek black number that felt both thrilling and foreign against your skin. Three months ago, you never would’ve imagined yourself here, standing outside a glitzy after-party for one of Korea’s biggest award shows, with Choi Soobin’s hand resting lightly on your lower back.

“Are you nervous?” Soobin’s voice was soft, almost drowned out by the chatter and music spilling from the rooftop venue above. His dark eyes, framed by those impossibly long lashes, searched your face with that quiet intensity you’d come to adore.

“A little,” you admitted, smoothing your hands over your dress for the tenth time. “I mean, it’s not every day I walk into a room full of idols.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and grounding, and squeezed your hand. “You’ll be fine. You’re with me.” His smile was boyish, but there was a confidence in his posture—a subtle reminder that he was no stranger to this world of flashing cameras and high stakes. As the leader of TXT, Soobin was used to navigating these events, but for you, this was a dazzling, overwhelming first.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal a rooftop transformed into a glittering wonderland. Crystal chandeliers hung from temporary rigs, casting prisms of light across the crowd. K-pop stars mingled with actors, models, and industry insiders, their laughter and clinking glasses blending with the thumping bass of a trendy track. You recognized faces you’d only ever seen on screens—idols from groups like BTS, Stray Kids, and aespa, all dressed to the nines, their presence magnetic.

Soobin guided you through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours. You could feel eyes on you, curious glances that lingered a beat too long. It wasn’t just that you were with Soobin; it was that you were new. Three months as his girlfriend was long enough to cement your relationship in private but short enough to make you a mystery to the public. Whispers followed you, and you caught fragments of hushed Korean—speculation about who you were, how you’d met, why you were here.

“Relax,” Soobin murmured, leaning close so his breath tickled your ear. “They’re just jealous I got the best date.”

You laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing. “Smooth talker.”

“Only for you.” He winked, and your heart did a little flip. Even in a room full of stars, Soobin had a way of making you feel like the only one who mattered.

He led you to a quieter corner where a few of his bandmates were lounging on plush velvet couches. Yeonjun, with his sharp jawline and effortless charisma, raised a glass in greeting. “Well, look who finally showed up! Thought you two got lost in the elevator.”

“Hyung, don’t start,” Soobin said, rolling his eyes but grinning. He introduced you to the group—Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Hueningkai, all of whom welcomed you with varying degrees of teasing and warmth. Beomgyu, in particular, seemed determined to embarrass Soobin, regaling you with a story about how Soobin had tripped over his own feet during their last rehearsal.

“Beomgyu, I swear—” Soobin started, but you were already laughing, picturing your usually composed boyfriend stumbling across a practice room.

The night unfolded in a blur of champagne, music, and stolen moments with Soobin. He stayed close, always checking in with a glance or a gentle touch. At one point, he pulled you onto the dance floor, his hands on your waist as you swayed to a slow song. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the crowd fading into a hazy backdrop.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple. “I knew you’d fit right in.”

“Fit in?” you teased, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “I’m just trying not to trip over my own feet in front of, like, half of K-pop.”

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. “You’re perfect. Trust me.”

But as the night wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. A woman in a red dress.