I read the message twice. An accident would have been easy.
Violet Frequency's performance was flawless. From my position in the wings, I watched nearly three thousand people lose themselves in precision choreography and pounding bass lines.
Jinwoo anchored the center, stable and grounded. Taemin worked the crowd with instinctive charisma, and Minjae executed choreography that looked deceptively simple.
Rune embodied controlled grace. I watched how he tracked his bandmates' positions without looking directly at them.
When he stepped forward for his solo line, the arena went quiet. He sang about ghosts who still cast shadows. Nearly three thousand people screamed his name.
I scanned the wings. Kang stood opposite me, positioned with clear sight lines. Two other security officers covered the rear access points.
The band reached the final chorus. The crowd roared as the lights surged.
Then it ended.
When the work lights came up, Rune accepted water and a towel, his attention already somewhere else. He scanned the wings until he found me.
Our eyes met across the space.
He didn't smile. Didn't acknowledge me beyond that single glance.
I watched his breathing slow.
The band moved offstage in formation. I fell in behind, maintaining visual contact with Rune's position.
One hundred and twenty hours. It would be less than a week before they moved me off the detail and replaced me with someone who wouldn't recognize danger disguised as logistics.
Rune looked at me once more before stepping back into the light. He wore a composed and professional expression.
I found him twenty minutes after the encore, in a service hallway most people didn't know existed.
I'd been tracking his movement through the post-show chaos. He'd separated from the group under the pretense of needing the bathroom, but he'd gone looking for space instead.
When he turned down the service corridor, I closed the gap. He heard me coming, stopped walking, and waited.
The corridor was empty. I stopped three feet behind him.
He whispered, "I felt alone."
Clear, quiet.
"When I came out of the green room, and the security officer wasn't there—" He turned to face me. "I felt alone."
"The corridor," I said. "The one the handler wanted you to take."
"Yes."
"It shouldn't have been open."
He knew the problem. "But it was."
"It wasn't on the active event plan. Someone overrode the lockout protocols without approval."
Rune inhaled sharply. "On purpose."
"I can't conclude that yet, but the timing was convenient. Officer gets pulled off position for a comms issue that doesn't exist. Handler directing you toward an unsealed corridor with no cameras." I paused. "There is an argument for incompetence."
"You don't believe that."
