Page 87 of K-Pop Double Life

“Then protect them,” Jason said.

“By rewarding her?” Eun-ji shot back. “By proving one credible threat can collapse an international tour?”

I stepped in before this turned into a pissing match. “Cancellation may not solve anything.”

Both of them looked at me. “If this is an active operation, the venue may only be one delivery option,” I said. “To start, landing at the executive terminal doesn’t make us safe. It just narrows the choke points. Tarmac transfer. Drivers. Ground handlers. Anyone with the right credentials gets close. And that’s long before the actual concert. Unless you cancel the whole tour and take everyone back to Seoul, cancelling an individual concert doesn’t do enough.”

Eun-ji folded her arms.

“So what do you recommend?”

I thought about Cannes. The barge. New York. Controlled access failures. Paid intermediaries. About Richard’s post.

“She knows we’re coming,” I said. “Which means whatever she’s planned may already be in motion.”

No one argued. “We proceed,” Liam said. “But assume every piece of local infrastructure is compromised until proven otherwise.”

“I’m contacting our ground team now,” Jason said. “Credible possibility of sabotage. Take all necessary precautions.” He looked at his watch. “I still have time to set up alternative transport to the hotel.”

Jason held my gaze for another second, then gave a curt nod. He stood up and walked back toward his seat.

Eun-ji looked at both of us. “What do you need from me?”

“Access to Sara Yoon’s Starhouse accounts—everything,” Liam said. “Email, calendar, expense reports, personnel files she’s accessed. I want to see what she’s been looking at.”

“You’ll have it within the hour.”

“And we need to keep this contained,” I added. “Jin and the other members don’t know yet. We’re keeping it that way until we have more evidence.”

“They have a right to know.”

“They have a right to stay alive,” I interrupted. “Right now, Jin’s job is to do press and perform. If he knows a Starhouse manager is trying to kill him, he won’t be able to focus. Fear shows on camera, and we can’t afford the distraction.”

Eun-ji was silent for a long moment. “I hate this. Keeping secrets from the people I’m supposed to look after.”

“So do I,” I said quietly. “But sometimes protection means making hard choices they won’t understand until later.”

She nodded reluctantly. “Okay. But the moment you have proof—the moment you can move on Sara Yoon—they need to know everything.”

“Agreed.”

“And I’ll have her locked out of every internal system she can touch.”

“Not yet,” Liam said.

She stopped. “Why?”

“Because the moment she knows we’ve identified her, she changes the plan.”

Eun-ji stared at him, furious because she knew he was right. “You’re asking me to let her continue?”

“I’m asking you to let her think she’s invisible,” Liam said. The plane engines hummed beneath our feet.

Eun-ji exhaled slowly. “Fine.”

Not agreement, but a temporary surrender.

We landed an hour later. The convoy moved from the São Paulo executive terminal to the Tivoli Mofarrej São Paulo in forty minutes flat. Three vetted SUVs, service entrance, secured floor, same protocol as London, Amsterdam, and New York. Jin looked wrung out in the vehicle, dark circles under his eyes that no amount of makeup could quite hide, shoulders tight with tension he was trying to mask.