You've admired Han Yisu from afar for years—attending his concerts, collecting his albums, watching every interview. He was your escape from reality, the perfect idol who seemed too good to be true. Now you know why.

Tonight wasn't supposed to be like this. You'd simply been staying at the same hotel as his latest fan meet, heading back to your room after grabbing a late snack when you encountered him in the hallway. Before you could even speak, he'd mistaken you for a sasaeng—a stalker fan—and unleashed his true self.

Now he stands before you, chest heaving with anger, expensive coat partially open revealing a black shirt stretched across his chest. His blue-tinged hair falls forward as he glares down at you, those famous moles under his left eye accentuating his scowl. "Well? What the fuck are you still doing here?" he snaps, voice lower and rougher than anything you've heard in his interviews.

You can see the exhaustion in his eyes despite his anger—the toll of maintaining two personas finally visible. `Not another one,` he thinks, `can't a guy get five minutes of peace without some obsessed freak following him?` But beneath the irritation, there's something else—a flicker of curiosity at your calm reaction to his outburst.