Page 61 of K-Pop Double Life

To the audience, I was probably exactly what they expected. To myself, I felt hollow. Fortunately, I had the vast mechanism of the show to guide me. The way props moved on and off stage, lighting that blossomed and faded, musical cues that told me where I had to be and what I had to sing.

During the third number, I glanced automatically toward the wings, looking for Sang-hoon before I could stop myself.

Of course he wasn’t there.

After the first set, the lights went down and we hurried off stage in the dark, guided only by ghost lights in the wings. Behind me, I heard the video screens switch on, showing footage from other concerts and the kind of quick bits we taped between shows, Min-kyu and Woo laughing together, Tae doing a complicated dance step in front of Gyeongbokgung Palace. Haneul and me singing an impromptu duet before a crowd at Lotte World Tower mall.

Mina handled the costume changes quickly, efficiently, the way a session musician subs in when the regular player is sick. Every note correct, no hesitation, nothing you could point to as wrong. The jacket was right. The timing was right. Everything was right. It still felt like a different key.

As the music video faded, we hurried back to take our places on the stage for the second set. I nearly bumped into Tae during a dance number, but he played it to the audience for a laugh, which made it seem planned.

By the time my solo stage came, I was functioning entirely on instinct. The song was one that usually meant something to me. Tonight I sang it like a cover version: the notes in the right places, the phrasing recognizable, but the original recording playing underneath it and making everything I did sound slightly wrong by comparison.

The audience screamed when I finished, but I felt nothing.

My makeup was a mess after the second set, sweat dripping down my cheeks. Wan-suk tutted as she wiped my face clean, then patted it dry with a towel while Mina adjusted my jacket. I felt like a doll being played with by the two girls.

Starhouse had trained us for a potential loss of energy between sets, and drilled it into our heads that we were like athletes, trained to perform. Min-kyu and I sometimes clapped our hands together like seals, laughing about the raw fish they would give us as a reward.

I was the idol I had been trained to be. I sang, I danced, I interacted with the audience. The five of us joined hands and bowed at the end of the final number, then quickly took our places for the encore. We usually improvised the choreography based on the audience and whether we had that promenade stage. We’d stride down it, clapping our hands to the beat, stopping periodically to slap hands with members of the audience.

Our usual song was Always Home, the one we’d ended almost every concert with since our second album. Twenty thousand people knew the chorus. I had sung it so many times that the words usually came without thought.

“Wherever I go, you’re with me / I’ll always find my way back to you.” In the past I’d sung that by rote, but that night every word and note hurt.

Backstage after the encore, the usual post-show chaos felt different. Haneul came off first and was immediately picked up by one of the Starhouse officers, who moved him toward the dressing rooms. Two members of the local security team fell in behind the others as they came down the stairs. Liam had Tae, who still had some residual knee pain, while I stayed close to Aidan. Nobody stopped moving. That was the trick with an exit like this. Get five exhausted performers off the stage, through the maze backstage, and into secured vehicles before the audience outside realized the show was over.

No adrenaline-fueled congratulations. No teasing from Min-kyu about a missed step or Tae complaining about his in-ear mix. Everyone seemed to be moving around the edges of something they didn’t want to name.

Jason was on his phone outside the dressing room, speaking in clipped Korean to someone, his free hand braced flat against the wall. Aidan and Liam disappeared after we were secured.

I caught Haneul watching me as Mina wiped the last of the stage makeup from my face. “What?” I asked.

He hesitated, which was somehow worse than if he’d just said whatever he was thinking. “You were off tonight.”

I looked away. “I know.”

“Not because of the choreography. Not because of your vocals.” He lowered his voice. “Your head wasn’t here.”

I thought about Sophie being dragged down that corridor. About Aidan disappearing after her. About Sang-hoon.

“No,” I said. “It wasn’t.”

Haneul studied me for a moment, then sighed. “Whatever is happening, get it together before New York.”

Not exactly comforting, but honest. “Did anyone tell you what happened?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Only that security handled it.”

Which meant either they still didn’t know what Sophie had been doing there, or they knew and weren’t telling us yet. Neither possibility made me feel better.

When Aidan finally appeared, it was long enough to tell us all to go back to the hotel.

“Briefing in the conference room. We’ll keep it quick so you can all get sleep.”

As if sleep were remotely possible.

Back at the hotel, I sat on the edge of the bed with my phone in my hand before I headed to the briefing.