Page 76 of K-Pop Double Life

“It’s incredible,” I said in careful English. “MSG is—it’s a dream venue. We’ve watched so many performances there. To perform there ourselves, for our fans? It’s an honor.”

“And the fans! You guys sold out in what, four minutes?”

“Three minutes,” Min-kyu corrected from beside me, his English heavily accented but confident. “Our fans are amazing.”

The host beamed. “They really are. Now, I have to ask. After that incident in Cannes, were you nervous about continuing the tour?”

My smile didn’t waver, but something tightened in my chest. “It was scary, yes. But we trust our team. The security and the production crew all work very hard to keep us safe.”

“And you’ve got some serious security now!” The host gestured toward the back of the studio where Aidan and Liam stood with two of Jason’s officers. “I’ve never seen so many bodyguards at a radio interview.”

I laughed—light, dismissive. “After Cannes, we’re being more careful. But it’s okay. We just want to focus on the music and connecting with fans.”

The interview continued with questions about the tour, our favorite American foods, whether we’d had time to sightsee (we hadn’t). I said that I had tried Sam Adams beer and liked it.

Occasionally Grace had to help us with some strange American slang, or to translate a Korean phrase that didn’t have an easy counterpart.

I answered on autopilot, the English responses flowing from years of practice, while another part of my brain tracked Aidan’s position in my peripheral vision.

I realized how incredibly kind they had been to give Sang-hoon and me that trip to the gay bar. No one recognized me, no one took photographs that might end up on a fan website. It was just me and my boyfriend.

Along with our bodyguards, of course.

When the interview finally wrapped, we posed for photos with the host and signed some albums for the station staff. I watched Grace check her phone twice during the photo session. She was quick and held the phone angled away from the group, the way people do when checking messages they didn’t want observed.

I’d noticed her do the same thing during the London venue walkthrough. At the time I’d assumed it was personal.

I didn’t have time to think about that because we were hustled back into the waiting vehicles. The morning sun was harsh, making me squint as we emerged onto the New York street.

About thirty fans were waiting, clustered behind barriers the station had set up. They started screaming the moment they saw us.

“Jin! We love you!”

“Pryzm!”

“You’re so handsome!”

I waved, smiled, tried to give them a moment even as Jason’s team was already forming a corridor to the vehicles. One girl was crying, holding a sign that said JIN MARRY ME in glittery letters. I caught her eye, gave her a heart sign with my hands, watched her dissolve into happy tears.

This was why we did it. Not the awards or the chart positions or the sold-out stadiums. This. The connection. The way our music meant something to people we’d never met.

“Jin-ssi, we need to move,” one of the security officers said quietly in Korean.

I turned toward the vehicle, and that’s when I saw Sang-hoon.

He was standing by the SUV’s open door, but he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were scanning the crowd, the surrounding buildings, the cars passing on the street. Looking for threats. Looking for danger.

Inside the vehicle, I sat between Sang-hoon and Min-kyu, the two of them forming a protective barrier around me. But Min-kyu had his headphones on, eyes closed, either sleeping or pretending to. Sang-hoon stared at his phone, scrolling through something but not really reading. I could tell because his thumb moved too regularly, no pauses to actually absorb content.

“Sang-hoon-ah,” I said quietly.

He looked up. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Just tired.” He gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Long night last night, long day ahead.”

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” I kept my voice low, aware of the driver and security officer in the front seats.