Page 9 of K-Pop Double Life

I opened the attachment. Names, job titles, passport numbers, hire dates.

“Police will vet them all,” Liam said.

“I’ll get Richard to do some research anyway,” I said, and sent it to Richard with a short note:

Travel roster attached. Cross-reference with previous employment, travel history, and known aliases. Prioritize anyone added within the past two weeks.

Within minutes, the reply came back. Just one line, typical Richard:

On it. Don’t get dead before breakfast.

Liam took the tablet back. “Our job is to keep Jin alive while they figure out who’s trying to kill him.”

“Speaking of which, I want to talk to Sang-hoon. Get a better sense of the dynamics.”

Liam studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Aidan? Don’t get too invested in a romantic relationship. We’re here to do a job.”

“I know.”

But as I watched him head down the hallway toward his own room, I thought about the way Jin had looked at Sang-hoon. Recognition and relief and something deeper. The way Sang-hoon had run toward fire without hesitation.

Some things you couldn’t help but invest in, whether you wanted to or not.

I knocked softly on Jin’s door. Sang-hoon opened it, still in his ash-stained clothes, exhaustion carved into every line of his face.

“How is he?”

“Showering.” Sang-hoon stepped back to let me in. “He won’t talk about it yet. What happened, I mean. He just... went quiet.”

“That’s normal. Shock has a delayed reaction.” I moved to the window, checking the curtains. “Police want to interview him tomorrow at ten. Will he be ready?”

“He’ll do what he has to do. He always does.” There was something bitter in Sang-hoon’s voice. “That’s the problem. He never says no, even when he should.”

I turned to look at him. “How long have you worked together?”

“Five years. Since before Pryzm’s debut.” He sank onto the sofa, head falling back against the cushions. “I was an intern at Starhouse. He was a trainee. We met in a hallway when he spilled water all over me rushing to rehearsal.”

I saw a momentary ghost of a smile across his face, there and gone.

“And you’ve been in love with him since then,” I said quietly.

Sang-hoon’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “I don’t—it’s not⁠—”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m not here to judge. I’m here to keep him safe. But I need to know the truth about what’s happening around him, and that includes understanding who cares about him and why.”

For a long moment, Sang-hoon just stared at me. Then something in him cracked, and he buried his face in his hands. “I thought he was going to die tonight. When that firework hit…” His voice broke. “And all I could think was that he would never know. That I’d spent so long in silence and he would die without ever knowing how I feel.”

Jin emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel slung low on his hips, hair damp and darkening at the edges, face scrubbed clean of makeup. Without the stage armor, he looked younger. Vulnerable.

Jin saw Sang-hoon on the sofa and crossed the room without hesitation, sinking down beside him. Sang-hoon immediately straightened, creating space, but Jin leaned into him anyway, head on his shoulder, eyes closing.

“Jin-ah,” Sang-hoon murmured. “You should eat something.”

“Later.” Jin’s voice was barely audible. “Just... stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I gave them privacy by moving toward the door. “Food will be here soon. Try to eat, both of you. And get some sleep if you can. Tomorrow’s going to be long.”