"That's part of my job."
"Worrying about lights?"
"About patterns."
He studied me for a moment. "The threats against Rune have been quiet. Three days without new messages. This should reassure you."
"Quiet bothers me more than noise."
We finished the walk-through, and I returned to the preparation area. The band members were moving into stage positions. Wardrobe had fine-tuned their costumes. Makeup was complete.
Rune stood near the door, waiting. He'd changed into the first performance outfit: black pants that fit precisely and a shirt that was both structured and fluid. They styled his hair away from his face, with a bold purple streak on the left side.
I watched him close his eyes for three seconds. Breathing. Centering. When he opened them, he was fully present… as Rune.
He spotted me watching. "Showtime," he mumbled.
"Break a leg."
He smiled briefly. "That's theater. Wrong industry."
"What do you say in this industry?"
"We don't. We just go."
The house lights dropped right on schedule. Nineteen thousand people roared. I took my position stage left as the opening track's first notes detonated throughout the arena.
The sound hit my chest like a blunt blow. The bass rumbled deep inside my body. Nineteen thousand voices became one sustained roar that made the floor vibrate.
The stage exploded into light. Violent white that obscured everything for half a second before fragmenting into blues and purples, strobing in time with the beat.
Four figures materialized from the darkness upstage. The choreography was sharp. Aggressive. Nothing like the controlled rehearsals I'd watched. This was Violet Frequency at full power, every movement punching through the music instead of floating over it.
Jinwoo anchored center stage, every gesture precise and grounded. Taemin worked the left side, his movements fluid and expansive, playing to the crowd like an energy conductor. Minjae covered right with technical perfection, every angle exact.
Rune moved along the center line. The lights caught him mid-turn, and my breath stopped. He was incandescent.
Every carefully controlled gesture I'd watched in rehearsal ignited at the next level. His body moved with precision, controlled and leashed, but still unmistakably dangerous. The vulnerability I'd seen in quiet moments was gone. He radiated power.
The first chorus landed, and the four of them synchronized into a formation that appeared to defy physics. The screams of the crowd intensified to something primal.
I scanned the audience, watching a predictable surge toward the barricades. Security held. Nothing unusual.
I scanned the stage again. Rune moved into a solo spotlight during the bridge. The others fell back into the shadows, giving him the moment. He delivered the line with his head tilted back, throat exposed, voice cutting through the production with raw clarity.
Nineteen thousand people reached toward him simultaneously.
The band's stage arrangement changed as the song built toward its climax. A synchronized move ended with Rune isolated front and center for four beats before Taemin and Jinwoo flanked him.
Exposed, then shielded as the song ended. His bandmates protected him.
I tracked sightlines and exits while my body responded to the music against my will. The beat was infectious. Designed to bypass thought and activate something more primitive.
Rune moved across the stage, and I tracked him like a laser sight. Professional assessment, I told myself.
Liar.
I caught movement in my peripheral vision, stage right wing, partially obscured by equipment. Soo-jin stood with his tablet, watching the performance with careful attention. He tracked Rune's position with precision that matched mine.
