I'd lived by that voice for years. It had kept me alive. Kept the band intact. Kept the world convinced they owned a version of me.
It also hollowed me out.
I thought about my real name in Griffin's mouth. Low and careful. Like he was holding something fragile.
Taemin stepped close. His shoulder brushed mine. "You good?"
"Yes."
He hummed. "Anyone tries to steer you off route again, I steer them first."
I looked at him. His expression was light, almost teasing, and his eyes were sharp.
The stage manager signaled. Thirty seconds.
Jinwoo adjusted his in-ear monitor. Minjae rolled his shoulders. Taemin flexed his fingers.
My pulse raced. Not because of the crowd. Because Griffin wasn't here to catch me.
I had to choose on my own whether to shrink or stand.
Ten seconds. I decided.
I would step onstage like the person Griffin saw when he said my name.
The curtain pulled aside. Light hit me full in the face. The crowd roared.
The first two songs were clean. Tight choreography. Precise timing. The crowd was loud enough to make the floor vibrate.
Between tracks, I scanned what I could see of the venue. Searching the pit for anything wrong.
Everything looked normal. That didn't mean it was safe.
On the third song, during a transition, my in-ear monitor cut out. My stomach dropped.
I kept my expression calm. My body moved through the choreography without missing a beat.
Taemin glanced at me. A silent check.
The in-ear came back.
At the end of the phrase, a stagehand appeared in my peripheral vision. Too close to the line. Too close to my exit path.
Minjae adjusted. A half-step.
He entered the space between the stagehand and me as if it were choreographed.
The stagehand stopped short and backed away.
I didn't look down. Didn't break my dance execution.
During the next break, Jinwoo stepped forward and addressed the crowd in English. He thanked Seattle. Joked about the rain. Made them love us.
Then he switched to Korean, soft enough that the mics didn't carry it.
"Stay close. Eyes up."
We nodded one by one.
