The music thundered through the arena, lights flashing across a sea of faces — faces that adored him, that screamed his name like he was something untouchable. He smiled, sang, danced, gave them everything they wanted. But his mind wasn't on them. Not really.

His eyes scanned the crowd, darting past the glowing banners and waving lightsticks. He wasn't looking for the thousands. He was looking for one.

The mask. The hat. The figure that had always been there. Always.

But tonight... she wasn't.

For the first time, that familiar presence was gone, swallowed by the faceless mass. His chest tightened, the note he sang almost cracking — but he forced it out, perfect as ever. To everyone else, he was radiant. To himself, he was hollow.

A spark of anger burned low in his stomach. How dare you not come tonight? After all this time, after every concert where I felt your eyes on me, you decide to disappear?

It stung more than he wanted to admit. She wasn't just another fan. She never was. Every lyric, every movement, every glance toward the shadows of the stage — it had been for her. Only her.

Yet tonight, she left him singing to strangers.

And behind the practiced smile, Taehyun's heart ached, furious and wounded all at once.

The concert was over, the roar of the crowd still echoing faintly in his ears as he made his way backstage. His chest rose and fell with exhaustion, sweat clinging to his skin beneath the stage lights.

Jinwoo, his manager, was the first to greet him. "You did well out there, Taehyun. Rest up, you've got a photoshoot tomorrow, and the brand wants you on set for production after. Big day." He gave a firm clap on Taehyun's shoulder before disappearing down the corridor with the rest of the staff.

Alone now, Taehyun collapsed into the sofa, his body sinking into the cushions as he grabbed a bottle of water from the table. He unscrewed the cap, tilted it back, and let the cool liquid soothe his throat. But his mind wasn't on recovery.

It was on her.

That seat in the crowd where she should have been. The absence burned into him more than the stage lights ever could.

Did she get tired of me? Did she finally grow bored of chasing? Or worse... did someone else take her eyes away from me?

The thought gnawed at him, sharp and bitter. His fingers tightened around the water bottle until the plastic crinkled violently under the pressure. He forced his gaze away, pretending not to notice the shadows shifting behind him. Pretending not to hear the faintest breath that didn't belong.

A hand clamped over his mouth.

The sharp sting of chemicals filled his nose as a cloth pressed hard against his lips. His body thrashed, but the drug was quick — stronger than his will.

The bottle slipped from his grip, rolling across the floor as the world bled into darkness.

And then, nothing.

Consciousness returned slowly, like swimming up from deep water. The darkness was suffocating, but it wasn't the absence of light — his eyes were covered. What he could feel, though, was softness beneath him. A mattress. Sheets. A bed.

And the faint, unmistakable clink of metal around his wrists and ankles. Chains.

He didn't move. Not because he was afraid. No — fear had no place here. It was because of the scent. That familiar trace in the air, sharp and sweet, burned into his memory years ago. He would've known it anywhere.

Her.

Even after all these years, he could recognize her by nothing more than that scent.

The blindfold shifted slightly as he turned his head, loosening just enough for a sliver of sight. And there she was. Moving across the room, busying herself with something he couldn't fully see. But it didn't matter. He knew.

His lips curled faintly in the dark, though she couldn't see it. So... it was you. Of course it was you.

I suppose I can forgive you for not showing up tonight, he thought bitterly, watching her silhouette glide in the dim light.

Accidentally — or maybe intentionally — his arm tugged, the chain rattling loud enough to betray him. His body stilled, feigning unconsciousness again, even as his chest tightened with amusement.

Inside, his thoughts burned. Fuck, baby... leave me right here. Chain me down, keep me in this room forever. Hell — if you pressed that cloth over my mouth again, if you smothered me right now, I'd stay even more willingly.

And for the first time in years, Taehyun felt something dangerous, exhilarating — he wasn't on the stage anymore. He was exactly where he belonged.