Taemin detoured on his way past, bumping Minjae's shoulder with his own. "Hey. Are you ready to sleep through another flight, or are you actually going to stay awake this time?"
Minjae looked up and smiled. "I'm awake. I'm fine."
The smile was too quick and bright. I heard concern when Taemin asked, "You sure?"
"Yeah. Just tired." Minjae continued to look at his phone. "Long morning."
"Vans are here," one handler called.
Everyone moved toward the doors. Minjae pocketed his phone and fell into step, but his hands were restless, fingers tapping against his thighs.
I wanted to pull him aside and ask what was wrong. Make him tell me who'd gotten to him. I wouldn't do it here, with handlers everywhere.
Four hours later, after the flight south, we were in Portland and disembarking at the concert hall. The Schnitz was a smaller venue, seating just under 3,000, historic and beautifully maintained. The backstage was a maze.
A handler appeared at my elbow. "Soundcheck in ninety minutes. The green room is ready if you want to settle in."
I nodded. "Bathroom first?"
"Second door on the left, past the main corridor. I'll show you."
"I can find it."
She hesitated, then relented. "Stay in the main corridor. Security's still clearing the upper levels."
I waited until she’d moved off before changing direction.
I didn’t want to be escorted. Suddenly, guided everywhere seemed wrong. Like someone else deciding where I could exist.
Setting off for the bathroom, I was grateful for thirty seconds without someone managing my location. The corridor was narrow and dimly lit, unfinished in a way public spaces never were. Concrete floor. Exposed pipes. No signage.
It was usually off-limits for idols or fans. It was a space the staff used when they assumed privacy by default.
When I was on my way back, I heard voices. They were low and professional, coming from a half-open door on my left.
"…not saying it's unmanageable." An unfamiliar male voice, American accent. "I'm saying we need to be realistic about the trajectory."
I slowed, yet I knew the conversation wasn’t meant for me.
"Agreed." I recognized that voice. It belonged to one of the Korean senior staff. "Which is why we're monitoring closely."
"The question is whether the current approach is sufficient. If the behavior pattern continues—"
"It won't." The second voice was firm. Certain. "The increased presence is already prompting necessary adjustments. We've seen this before. The Seattle incident and the Vancouver proximity issues. He doesn’t deviate unless he's given space. He responds to structure."
A pause. Papers rustling.
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then we escalate containment before LA. Adjust the detail assignments. Limit unsupervised access. All standard protocols."
A long pause ensued.
"The concern," the first voice said carefully, "is that he's becoming a risk. Not to himself, but to the overall stability."
Risk—a heavy word.
"I'm aware." The second voice remained steady and professional. "Which is why the protocols are in place. This isn't the first time we've had to manage this kind of situation. It's containable as long as everyone remains aligned."
