Page 49 of K-Pop Double Life

I stopped.

Deleted After careful consideration.

It wasn’t true. I hadn’t considered anything since the moment in Cannes when I saw Jin stumble on stage and rushed toward him.

I deleted what I had written, and started again.

Sun-hee-noona,

I need to request immediate leave from the tour. Personal emergency. Mina is very talented and has been observing everything. She can take over for me, and Du-ri can help her.

My hands were shaking. I’d spent five years building a career at Starhouse, working my way up from intern to senior stylist trusted with the company’s biggest acts. Long days learning the rhythms of the industry, the politics, the careful balance of ambition and loyalty.

And I’d spent all that time loving Jin from a distance I’d convinced myself was safe.

But it wasn’t safe. It had never been safe.

Whoever was behind the threats had been watching him for months. Aidan and Liam weren’t sure if the threats were directed at him personally, or simply because he was the center and if they knocked him down, Pryzm and Starhouse would suffer.

Now that the fans had discovered the connection between Jin and me, things could only get worse. It wouldn’t take much for someone to discover the clause in Jin’s contract that prevented him from getting involved with a staff member, and using that to hurt him, Pryzm and Starhouse.

Fans would dissect every interaction we’d ever had. Anti-fans would invent the rest. Reporters would camp outside Starhouse headquarters. Sponsors would ask questions. The company would investigate how both of us had violated policy. Even if they eventually cleared us, the story would become bigger than Pryzm’s music.

Jin had spent years earning the love of millions of people. I couldn’t be the reason that love turned into suspicion, gossip, or disappointment.

If I went back to Seoul, there would be nothing to see. Mina would stand beside him instead of me. No one would wonder why I always hovered just outside the camera frame. No one could build a story around glances that no longer happened.

The logical solution was obvious: remove myself from the equation.

I’d lose the career I’d spent five years building.

I’d lose Jin.

But he’d keep everything he’d worked his whole life to achieve.

It was the right thing to do. The smart thing. The thought of it made me want to vomit.

I went back to the email, my fingers moving mechanically across the keyboard.

I believe my continued assignment to him creates unnecessary risk for him, Pryzm and Starhouse. I know this request may seem abrupt. I’d appreciate the opportunity to leave the tour as soon as it’s practical. Mina can handle London.

Professional. Rational. The kind of language that made a devastating decision sound like a simple business matter.

I stared at the words for a long time. Then I hit send before I changed my mind.

The swoosh of the outgoing message felt like a door closing.

My phone buzzed immediately. Sun-hee-noona’s response came through faster than should have been possible.

My room. 9 AM.

I set the phone down. Down the hall in his own room, Jin was sleeping, unaware that I’d just set in motion the end of everything we’d barely begun.

In Cannes, I’d run onto a burning stage for him. Then I’d told him how I felt about him. And now I was leaving.

I couldn’t make sense of it and I knew Jin wouldn’t be able to either.

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