Page 64 of K-Pop Double Life

“Maybe. But at least you’ll know. At least you’ll have tried.” She squeezed his hand. “Come on. You guys are exhausted. You need to get some rest before we leave tomorrow for New York.”

Sunny led Jin from the room, and the others drifted out behind them, quieter than when they had entered. Even Min-kyu, who usually had an opinion about everything, seemed to recognize that Jin had reached whatever decision he was going to reach, at least for now. I saw they were all exhausted, all the adrenaline of performance drained away.

Liam and I had both felt that drain in the past, when we knew that our clients were safe, our adversaries under arrest or left behind in a foreign country. But we’d been able to take time to rest in Banneret and recharge our batteries. These young men would have to perform again in New York, with a long flight ahead of them and only a few days to summon that energy again.

The room felt deflated once Sunny and the group were gone. Jason remained at the conference table, one hand braced against the back of a chair, his face still thunderous.

Liam exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not sure whether that was reassuring or deeply concerning.”

“Probably both,” I said.

My phone buzzed with an incoming message from Richard. I scanned it, then turned the phone so both Liam and Jason could see.

“The shell company that paid Sophie is gone,” I said. “Registered through multiple intermediaries, dissolved months ago, no obvious ownership trail. Whoever set this up knew exactly how to avoid being found.”

Liam read the message and handed the phone back. “Professional.”

“That’s what worries me.”

“Me, too,” Jason said. “Everything since Cannes has been very well-organized.”

Another message came through almost immediately. Richard had found chatter on a fan forum. Nothing explicit enough to act on, but enough references to Madison Square Garden and something “memorable” happening that my instincts started prickling.

“Might just be fan speculation,” Liam said after reading that one.

“Might be,” I agreed. Neither of us sounded convinced.

Jason said, “For New York, everything changes. No freelancers backstage. No outside photographers, no stylists, no contractors we have not personally vetted.”

“Agreed,” I said.

“We also need alternate transport routes,” Liam added. “Limit who gets schedule information. If we can use decoys, we use them.”

Jason nodded once, already mentally moving pieces into place.

Then he looked at me. “Jin.” It wasn’t really a question.

The image from the projector was still frozen in my head. Jin onstage, hitting every mark while mentally somewhere else entirely.

“He says he’s ready,” I said.

Jason tilted his head slightly. “What do you think?”

I took a moment before answering.

“I think he means it,” I said. “I also think meaning it and being capable of it are two different things.”

Jason’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

Liam folded his arms. “He was looking for Sang-hoon in the wings,” he said quietly.

The truth was harder to say aloud than I expected. “Sang-hoon leaving may have made emotional sense to him,” I said. “For Jin, it was a disaster.”

Neither of them argued. That, more than anything, unsettled me.

On the monitor, Jin turned toward the empty wings again.

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