I read his subtext clearly: Do you have evidence to justify continued disruption?
"The current posture is appropriate for active threat conditions," I said. "Whether those conditions have genuinely resolved is harder to determine based on silence that's lasted less than twenty-four hours."
"How long would you recommend we maintain elevated protocols?" Soo-jin's tone sounded reasonable. "Indefinitely?"
"Until we understand the intent behind the pattern."
"The intent seems clear." Soo-jin gestured to Kang's tablet. "Someone wanted to unsettle Rune. We responded. They stopped. That's resolution."
"Or completion," I said.
The room fell silent.
Soo-jin spoke first. "Completion of what?"
"Whatever they needed to confirm." I kept my voice calm. "The hotel room access shows capability. Minjae's observation proved that surveillance occurred during a performance. Then everything stopped, not because we prevented escalation, but because they confirmed what they needed to know."
Soo-jin studied me for a moment. "I'd like to propose adjusted protocols for Portland. We maintain core security measures but reduce some of the more visible restrictions that have been causing unnecessary stress."
The logic was sound, and the framing was careful.
Kang looked between us. "I'll consider the proposed adjustments and provide updated protocols by tonight. We'll maintain the current posture for the show and reassess afterward."
The meeting ended. Almost everyone dispersed.
Soo-jin lingered. He waited until the room emptied, then moved to the chair across from me.
"I want to be direct with you."
I looked up.
"Your presence here is valuable, but I'm concerned you may bring assumptions from your previous work that don't fully apply to this environment." His voice was patient. "Idol culture has different dynamics. Obsessive fans are a constant presence. Boundary violations that feel threatening rarely escalate to physical harm."
"Someone had access to Rune's hotel room," I said.
"Or someone saw him through a window." Soo-jin tilted his head slightly. "I'm not dismissing the concern. I'm providing context. I'm asking you to consider whether the response we've implemented might be disproportionate to the actual risk." He paused. "I also think your proximity to Rune might be affecting your judgment."
He chose his words carefully. Not quite an accusation.
I held his gaze. "My proximity to Rune is professional."
"Of course. But professional distance requires perspective. That can be difficult when you're emotionally invested in someone's well-being."
"Every protection specialist invests emotionally in their principal's well-being. That's the job."
"There's investment," Soo-jin said quietly, "and there's attachment. They're not the same thing."
He left.
I sat alone, thinking about how none of our conversation addressed the most important question: Why had the threat activity stopped?
The show started at 7:00 PM.
I watched from the wings, positioned where I had clear sight lines to both Rune's movement patterns and backstage access points.
The opening was high-energy music. As the set list progressed, I realized I now knew where the peaks were. Where the production would strip down and leave Rune's voice exposed.
The third song shifted into something slower. The lights changed, with blue and gold washing the stage, shadows deepening across the wings where I stood.
