Page 4 of K-Pop Double Life

I stepped back, scanning for secondary threats.

Behind me, Sang-hoon was speaking to Jin in quick, low Korean, his hands still moving over Jin’s face and arms with the practiced efficiency of someone checking for injury. Jin answered in a murmur, letting him work.

Liam appeared at my shoulder. “I talked to one of the engineers. The shell that went sideways wasn’t part of the licensed display,” he said, voice low enough that only I could hear. “It was a separate unit. Not on any manifest I saw.”

I looked at the burning barge. Then at Jin, sitting ten feet away with his stylist’s hands bracketing his face. Then back at Liam.

“So it wasn’t an accident.”

Liam’s jaw was tight. “Doesn’t look like it.”

2

AFTERMATH

AIDAN — CANNES

The medical tent smelled of antiseptic and sea salt. All five members of Pryzm were being checked over by EMTs. Jin was on a folding chair getting his blood pressure taken. The prime dancer, Tae, sat on a cot with an ice pack pressed to his knee. The young-looking one, Woo, curled up with his head on the shoulder of the quarterback, Min-kyu, who was having a medic check his pupils for signs of concussion. The oldest, most serious one, Haneul, stood by the tent wall, arms wrapped around himself, letting an EMT listen to his lungs in a smoke inhalation check.

Before I joined Liam, I’d taught English as a Second Language to immigrants in Philadelphia, and I’d developed the ability to remember foreign names. That came in handy when we had multinational clients, and now with a flood of Korean names around us.

Sang-hoon hovered near Jin like a satellite locked in orbit, but his eyes kept flicking to the other members, silently taking inventory. Making sure everyone was accounted for.

I stood near the entrance, giving them space but keeping eyes on the perimeter. Through the canvas flap, I saw Liam coordinating with venue security, three uniformed officers and a woman in a sharp black suit who’d appeared the moment we’d cleared the stage.

That woman left them and came to push through the tent flap, phone pressed to her ear, expression carved from granite. She finished her call with a clipped phrase in Korean, then turned her attention to the group. Her gaze swept over each member—cataloging injuries, assessing damage—before she looked at me.

“I’m Park Eun-ji,” she said. “Head of Global Operations for Starhouse Entertainment. Who are you?”

“Aidan Greene. Private security, contracted for crowd control.” I angled a thumb toward where Liam was visible through the gap. “Liam McCullough. Same.”

She didn’t offer a hand. “Stay.”

It wasn’t a request.

“We’re here,” I said.

She moved through the tent, speaking to each member in Korean. Brief, efficient checks. Tae nodded, wincing as he shifted his leg. A man I learned was the tour’s physical therapist was wrapping his leg in a brace. Woo mumbled something that made Min-kyu squeeze his shoulder. Haneul just bowed his head slightly, still holding himself too tight.

Then she came to Jin. The EMT was finishing Jin, showing Eun-ji Jin’s blood pressure reading. Numbers acceptable, pulse elevated but not dangerous. Jin stared at the ground between his shoes like it held answers he couldn’t find anywhere else.

They talked for a few minutes. At first it seemed like an argument, but eventually they were both nodding.

When she turned away, Sang-hoon began dabbing at the ash smear on Jin’s temple with a clean cloth. His movements were practiced and gentle, the hands of someone who’d touched this face a thousand times before. Jin reached up without thinking and caught Sang-hoon’s wrist for a second, a touch that said thank you or don’t go yet or both.

I looked away. Privacy is a human right, even in a tent behind one of the most photographed beaches in the world.

Eun-ji returned to us. “Mr. Greene.” Her voice was level again, the panic buried where good executives hide everything they don’t have time to process. “Whatever contract you have just got extended.”

“To when?”

“To the end of our tour,” she said. “Paris, Amsterdam, London, New York, São Paulo, Seoul.” Each city landed like a hammer. “You will travel with Pryzm. You will coordinate with our team and with local authorities. And you will keep them safe.”

“Why us?” I asked. “You must have your own tour security.”

“We do, and it’s excellent. But they have their limits, especially in situations like tonight, when they had to be focused on crowd control. You were watching the performers instead of the crowd, which is how you saw the way Sang-hoon rushed to protect Jin and jumped in to help. We need that kind of vision for the rest of the tour.”

She showed me her cell phone. “I don’t believe this was a technical malfunction, or that it was a one-time thing. This message came in a moment after the fireworks explosion.”