"Yes."
Griffin turned toward the door, then paused. "Rune?"
Hearing him use my stage name suddenly felt wrong.
"I'm glad your light was on," he said.
He left before I could respond.
***
I found Jinwoo in the corridor outside the breakfast room at 8:15 AM.
He was dressed for the day already—clean black joggers and plain white t-shirt.
"You're up early," he said in Korean.
"Couldn't sleep."
"None of us did." He studied my face.
"Can we talk?"
We walked to a far corner of the room. Two chairs and a decorative table no one used. Early morning light fell across the industrial carpet.
Jinwoo sat. I remained standing for a moment, then lowered myself into the chair across from him.
He waited.
"I've been thinking about leaving," I said. "The tour. Before Seattle."
His expression didn't change. "Why?"
"Every incident has happened because of proximity to me. If I remove myself, the threat loses its leverage." I folded my hands into my lap. "Management can redirect resources. The band can continue without constant adjustments."
"And you?"
"Medical leave. Mental health justification." My voice was steady. "I'll release a statement. No accusations and zero drama."
Jinwoo was quiet. "How long have you been thinking about this?" he asked finally.
"Since Micah got hurt. I keep running the scenario through my head. What happens if someone dies? Violet Frequency will end, or at least carry a storm cloud over its head for the rest of—"
"You think leaving protects us," Jinwoo interrupted. His voice was calm but I heard something harder underneath. "I think it teaches the system what pressure works."
I bit my lip.
"If you leave now, mid-tour, citing safety—what does that tell Soo-jin?" Jinwoo leaned forward. "It tells them idols break under enough pressure. Next time, they won't need violence. They'll only need patience."
"There won't be a next time if I'm gone."
"You think you're the only variable they'll ever want to remove?" Jinwoo shook his head. "Today, it's you. Tomorrow, it's someone else who decides to stop being compliant. We don't survive by teaching them that pressure works."
"We don't survive if someone dies."
He countered my argument. "We don't survive if we run every time someone threatens us."
He sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "Do you remember when they told us there would be another delay in our debut?"
