20
A familiar buzz of anticipation hummed in the air as Tae Hyun stepped inside the sprawling Vision Dayag Arena in Quezon City. It was a homecoming of sorts, a return to the venue where XTC had faced one of their most well-known challenges. And where Tae Hyun had solidified his reputation as a fearless performer.
But Tae Hyun’s mind was elsewhere. Jason was gone, whisked back to Los Angeles after that devastating phone call about Naomi, leaving Tae Hyun to deal with the tour alone. The brief reunion had been bittersweet, the joy of their passionate reconciliation overshadowed by the grim reality of the accident. Tae Hyun had a team, a family, and a loyal manager in Mina. But Jason’s absence left an aching void.
Tae Hyun hadn’t spoken with Jason since their loving goodbye on the penthouse balcony, save for a handful of cryptic messages that offered little comfort. At least he knew Jason had landed safely and was back at home. Otherwise, everything else was up in the air.
Tae Hyun also had Ren. The Sweet Beast singer had been an unexpected and welcome source of comfort since they landed in Manila. His easy laughter and playful teasing helped Tae Hyun ignore the void left by Jason .
“This place is huge!” Ren exclaimed, his voice echoing through the cavernous space. He was right beside Tae Hyun as he surveyed the empty stadium with a broad grin. “I can’t believe we’re actually playing here.”
Tae Hyun chuckled at Ren’s excited antics. “Yeah, it’s pretty impressive. I’ve played here before, but it never gets old.”
Ren’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah! With XTC , right?”
Tae Hyun nodded. “Yeah, back in the day.” He paused, suddenly caught up in the melancholy nostalgia that invariably flashed through his mind whenever he thought about the old days. “Actually,” he said with a wry smile, “this is the place where I almost got electrocuted.”
Ren’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
Tae Hyun laughed. “Okay, maybe not electrocuted. But it was still quite the night.” He launched into the story, recounting the earthquake, the power outage, and his impromptu acapella performance that had kept the crowd from panicking. He could still feel the adrenaline rush, the thrill of facing the unknown and emerging victorious.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” Ren interrupted, eagerly nodding. “I was there! In the audience.”
Tae Hyun almost couldn’t believe it. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” Ren eagerly confirmed. “I mean, I’ve felt a lot of earthquakes, but never in a place like this. I freaked when the lights went out. Then you started singing. I could barely hear it, but once the audience joined in, I did, too.” He rested his hand on Tae Hyun’s shoulder. “You’re a legend, Tae Hyun. I’ll never forget it.”
Tae Hyun’s heart swelled with a mix of pride and gratitude. He hadn’t realized Ren had been there that night. “Thanks. But it wasn’t just me. It was the whole crew and all the fans, too. We all came together that night.”
Ren thoughtfully nodded. “Maybe. But you were the one who took charge, who kept everyone calm. You’re a natural leader. A true inspiration.”
Tae Hyun’s ears warmed at the unexpected praise, even if it was a little much. But it was still nice to share the unique experiences and challenges of being an idol. Maybe Jason had been wrong. Maybe Ren was a genuine friend, after all.
“Thanks,” Tae Hyun replied, thick with a sudden, unexpected surge of emotion. He quickly cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “That means a lot.” He glanced towards the stage, where the crew was already bustling with activity. “Looks like our break’s over. We should probably head backstage.”
Ren nodded, using Tae Hyun’s shoulder to push himself up. “Yeah, I suppose.” He offered Tae Hyun a breezy wave as he walked away. “See you after soundcheck.”
Tae Hyun held back long enough to check his phone again, hoping for a message from Jason, but the screen remained stubbornly blank. With a wistful sigh, he got up and joined everyone backstage. He spotted Yun Seo chatting with Mina, nodding when she looked his way. She joined him a moment later.
“Any updates, oppa?”
Tae Hyun shook his head. “Nothing new. You?”
“No.” Yun Seo sighed. “I checked with Seong Min, too. He hasn’t heard from his brother, either.”
“I’m sure they’d tell us if something changed,” Tae Hyun replied, trying to convince himself as much as his sister.
Yun Seo snorted. “I know, I know. Seong Min isn’t really bothered, either. I wish I had his confidence. ”
Tae Hyun chuckled. “Me, too. But I need to get ready for my soundcheck. Let me know if you hear anything?”
Yun Seo nodded as Tae Hyun walked away. He found his sound tech and, after a quick mic check, took the stage. Staring out at the empty seats as he sang, he was struck by how much the night’s show felt like coming full circle. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be another Manila incident.
After getting a thumbs up from his audio engineers, Tae Hyun pulled out his ear monitors as he wandered offstage. He stood by as his sound tech unhooked his mic, then took a towel from an assistant to wipe his brow on the way to his dressing room. He thought he remembered the way despite the years since his last visit to the arena. But he was wrong, getting turned around and finding himself in a long, silent corridor that definitely wasn’t where he needed to be.
Tae Hyun was about to turn back when a familiar voice echoed in the distance. Who was down there? He almost spoke up when the voice grew louder. It was Ren, his tone harsh and urgent, as his rapid-fire Japanese sliced through the quiet.
“Because it wasn’t what I fucking paid for!” Ren shouted, barely controlled, a tremor of anger underlying the words. “You idiot! I told you it was supposed to be me! What the hell were you thinking?”
Tae Hyun froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He cautiously crept forward, peeking around a corner to catch a glimpse of Ren pacing back and forth, his phone pressed to his ear.
“No, don’t give me fucking excuses!” Ren hissed. “I paid you for a job, and you screwed it up. Now fix it, or you’ll regret it.”
The words hung in the air, a chilling revelation that made Tae Hyun’s stomach churn. Had Ren orchestrated the paint attack? And if so, why? Why would he want to be the target of such a hateful act? Tae Hyun’s Japanese wasn’t great. Maybe he didn’t understand.
The conversation continued, but Tae Hyun couldn’t make out the rest of the words. Ren’s voice was too low, his tone too guarded. But the anger and thinly veiled threats were unmistakable.
Tae Hyun’s heart pounded against his ribs, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Anger mixed with disbelief, a toxic cocktail that threatened to overwhelm him. He turned on his heel, ready to confront Ren and demand answers, but was stopped short by a firm hand on his arm.
Seong Min faced him, his expression unreadable beyond stoic concern. He put a finger to his lips, slowly shaking his head. Then, with a subtle gesture, he beckoned Tae Hyun to follow.
Confusion battled with the urge to lash out, but Tae Hyun trusted Seong Min completely. He fell into step behind his security chief, their soft footsteps faintly echoing in the otherwise silent corridor. His mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind Ren’s words and the hateful tone he’d never heard before. How would he confront Ren? He had to get to the bottom of things, but what would he say?
Seong Min led him back to the relative privacy of his dressing room, where a pair of stylists meticulously arranged his costumes for the evening’s performance. He pointed toward the door. “Out.”
The stylists, startled by the abruptness of the command, quickly gathered their things and left. Seong Min shut the door behind them, the lock clicking into place .
Tae Hyun turned to him, his words bursting forth. “Tell me you heard him.”
“I heard him speaking, sir.” Seong Min’s brow furrowed as he frowned. “But I don’t speak Japanese. Did you understand him?”
Tae Hyun’s frustration bubbled over. “He set up the paint attack!” he blurted out, losing control. “Only, it was supposed to be him that got hit, not me.”
Seong Min’s frown deepened. “Are you sure, sir?”
“I–” Tae Hyun hesitated. He wasn’t absolutely certain, but the pieces fit together too perfectly to ignore. “No, I’m not completely sure. But I can’t think of what else he could’ve been talking about.”
Seong Min slowly nodded. “While I couldn’t understand what he said, his tone was clear enough.”
“So, what do we do?” Tae Hyun grabbed his dressing table chair and plopped down. “I mean, if he was really behind that, what else has he done? There were the signs in the audience. And the tabloid leak! And what else could he even be planning?”
Seong Min began pacing the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “If he is behind the paint attack,” he calmly stated, “for whatever reason, we can assume there are more incidents to come. He should be removed from the tour.”
Tae Hyun’s head snapped up. “Removed?”
“Yes, sir,” Seong Min confirmed. “But we need proof–some concrete evidence before we can take such drastic action.”
Tae Hyun slumped back in his chair. He’d only thought about confronting Ren. He hadn’t even considered what would have to happen after that. At the very least, their new friendship was over. But, if Ren had really done that–and, possibly, the other things–then the tour was in jeopardy. They’d need to find a new opening act. Would they have to honor refund requests for fans who’d bought tickets to see Ren? His breath quickened, his pulse pounding, as sweat dampened his forehead. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.
“What do we do?”
Then, against all odds, Seong Min grinned. “I have an idea.”
The plan, once laid out, was deceptively simple. It hinged on Tae Hyun’s ability to perform and deceive. He would have to pretend he’d heard nothing, that his trust in Ren was unwavering. His chest tightened with anger. The easy camaraderie he’d shared with Ren, the sense of shared experience, had been so comforting. Now, he’d have to weaponize that trust, just like Ren had apparently done to him.
Tae Hyun huffed, checking his phone again, hoping Jason had reached out. Still nothing. He nearly tried calling but held off. Jason was busy. Tae Hyun would have to handle things on his own. He messaged Mina instead, asking her to send in his style team to help him prepare for the night’s performance. At the last moment, he decided to change things up, swapping out his all-white outfit for the backup look, a custom-made electric blue holographic tank top paired with black low-waisted joggers and chunky black platform sneakers with neon blue accents. It was a bold statement and a far cry from the pristine white ensemble he’d originally worn. A small act of defiance, perhaps. Or a subconscious need to distance himself from the vulnerability of any future paint attacks.
After dressing and being made up, Tae Hyun found Ren backstage, joyfully laughing as he joked with his bandmates. The contrast between Ren’s carefree demeanor and the venom he’d spewed just hours earlier sent a shiver down his spine. Tae Hyun fought to quell the anger bubbling beneath the surface, reminding himself that this was a performance. A performance for an audience of one.
He donned his game face and the high-touch, megawatt smile he’d perfected over years in the spotlight. He strode towards Ren with the practiced ease of a seasoned idol.
Ren spotted him, offering a friendly wave as Tae Hyun approached. “Hey!” He did a quick once-over, his eyes lingering on Tae Hyun’s electric blue outfit. “Wow, that look is totally fire! I wish I had that kind of wardrobe budget.”
Tae Hyun chuckled, playing along with the banter. “You’re halfway there just being on this tour, right?”
Ren brightly chuckled, but Tae Hyun now understood that it was fake. Hopefully, Ren hadn’t noticed him doing the same thing. “You know it! What’s up?”
“Mina bought out the rooftop bar for tonight’s after-party,” Tae Hyun explained, keeping his tone light and casual. “I thought we could grab a few drinks in my room beforehand. You know, to unwind before the madness?”
Ren’s eyes lit up, shining with an eagerness he couldn’t quite conceal. “Sounds perfect,” he said, brightly smiling.
But Tae Hyun’s smile had charmed millions, and Ren was no exception. “Great!” The game was on.
Tae Hyun watched Ren retreat to his bandmates, a mix of relief and unease swirling in his gut. The facade of camaraderie was back in place, but the underlying tension was a ticking time bomb. He took a deep breath, pushing the doubts aside. He had a role to play, a performance to deliver.
Once he was onstage, Tae Hyun soaked up the concert’s energy and adrenaline, losing himself in the music and the crowd’s roar. Each move felt sharp. Each note was a declaration of his strength and resilience. The cheers from the Manila crowd fueled him, a reminder of why he did what he did. Ren was the farthest thing from his mind.
Those cheers still rang in Tae Hyun’s ears as he retreated to the backstage sanctuary of his dressing room. But his adrenaline-fueled high soon gave way to a tense calm for the performance yet to come. He only needed a shower, a change of clothes, and a few moments of solitude to prepare for the next act.
Seong Min patiently waited as Tae Hyun shed his stage outfit and jumped into the shower. The sweat-soaked costume clinging to his body was a tangible reminder of the energy he’d poured into his performance.
“Can you take me back to the hotel?” Tae Hyun asked as he slipped on his street clothes.
Seong Min nodded. “Yes, sir. The car is waiting.”
The ride to the Socorro Grand was a blur of Cubao city lights and racing thoughts. Tae Hyun replayed Ren’s chilling phone conversation over and over in his mind. The anger. The veiled threats. There was no doubt in his mind now. Ren was behind the attack, and Tae Hyun had been an unwitting pawn in his twisted game.
Leaning forward, Tae Hyun met Seong Min’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Is everything ready?”
“Yes, I’ve made the necessary arrangements, sir,” Seong Min assuredly replied. “Are you ready?”
Tae Hyun took a slow, deep breath. Was he ready? “Yes, I am.” His certainty surprised even him. He’d been groomed for this, his entire life a carefully orchestrated performance. He was Woo Tae Hyun, the idol, the star, and the survivor. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of anticipation. Tonight, he would finally get answers. All that remained was to play his part, lure Ren into a false sense of security, and expose the truth once and for all.
While luxurious, Tea Hyun’s suite at the Socorro Grand Hotel couldn’t compare to the opulence of the penthouse suite in Taipei. But it was comfortable, private, and, most importantly, secure. He rushed inside, pausing to ensure that the champagne he’d requested had been delivered. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he stood before the bathroom dressing mirror, meticulously applying his makeup. A sharp knock echoed through the room as he finished.
Ren.
Tae Hyun bitterly smiled. He was all too familiar with the art of deception and hiding his true feelings behind a carefully constructed facade. But this time, the stakes were higher, and the consequences far more devastating. He was playing a dangerous game and could only pray it wouldn’t backfire.
Tae Hyun plastered on his best magazine-cover smile as he approached his suite door, pausing to take a deep breath. He had to play his part, remain calm, and draw Ren in. Then he opened the door, a warm greeting ready on his lips. “Hey!”
“Hey!” Ren beamed, his energy infectious as always. He’d changed, too. Unlike Tae Hyun’s sleek, all-black ensemble, he’d gone to his street-style roots with an oversized graphic tee, black and white camo bomber, ripped skinny jeans, and chunky black sneakers. “Can I come in?”
“For sure,” Tae Hyun replied, stepping back to allow Ren to come inside.
Ren slipped off his shoes, his eyes widening as he took in the suite’s decor. He chuckled. “Every time I think I scored a nice room, I see yours.”
“It’s not bad,” Tae Hyun agreed, keeping things light. He moved toward the bar, grabbing the chilled bottle of champagne and two glasses. “Want some?”
Ren’s eyes lit up. “Definitely,” he said, wandering into the sitting room and settling on the plush, oversized sofa.
Tae Hyun poured two glasses before replacing the bottle in the ice bucket. Then he walked over to Ren and handed one to him, their fingers lightly brushing. “To another successful show,” he offered, raising his glass.
Ren clinked his glass against Tae Hyun’s, his smile wide and charming. “For sure,” he replied, taking a sip. “You were incredible out there tonight.”
Tae Hyun nodded, chuckling as he sat across from Ren. “Thanks. You weren’t too bad yourself.”
They moved on to small talk, discussing the crowd’s energy, the set list, and the minor technical hiccup during Ren’s performance. But all the while, Tae Hyun was acutely aware of Ren’s every move and gesture, searching for clues to his true intentions. When Ren finally seemed relaxed enough to lower his guard, Tae Hyun took a deep breath, steeling himself. It was time.
“Ren,” Tae Hyun began, low and steady, “I need to ask you something.”
Ren’s smile faltered, a shadow of unease crossing his face. “Sure, what’s up?”
Tae Hyun set his glass down, his unwavering gaze fixed on Ren. “I overheard your phone call earlier today,” he continued, closely watching Ren’s reaction. “The one where you were angry about the botched paint attack. ”
Ren’s composure instantly crumbled, replaced by a look of shock and indignation. “What the hell are you talking about?” he sputtered, his voice quickly rising. “You were spying on me?”
“I wasn’t spying,” Tae Hyun firmly countered. “I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I heard enough to know that you were involved in what happened that night.”
Ren’s face paled. His eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape, just like on the balcony in Tokyo. “That’s ridiculous,” he spat. “Why would I do something like that?”
Tae Hyun leaned forward. “That’s what I want to know,” he said, low and even. “Why would you put your own career–and our tour–at risk like that?”
A tense silence gathered between them, the only sound the quiet hum of the room’s A/C. Ren opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead as he crumpled under the weight of Tae Hyun’s accusation.
Then, Ren’s expression changed so suddenly that it almost made Tae Hyun’s head spin. His charming smile, so convincing moments ago, had vanished, replaced by a bitter sneer. “My career?” He snorted. “What the fuck do you think you know about my career? You, with your billionaire boyfriend who bought you your very own fucking concert tour.”
Tae Hyun flinched at the harsh words but wouldn’t let himself be baited into a fight. Not when he finally had the upper hand. “That’s not an answer.”
Ren huffed, a petulant child caught in a lie. “Fine. Yeah, I arranged the fucking paint attack. Okay? Except it wasn’t supposed to be you. It was supposed to be me!”
“But why, Ren?” Tae Hyun pressed. “Why would you do something so stupid?”
Ren slammed his champagne flute onto the table, the crystal sharply ringing. “Because I saw what you did! The way Kbr kept coming after you only made your fans love you more!” He took a deep breath, his eyes blazing with a manic intensity. “And I wanted that for me. I deserve that.”
Tae Hyun stared at Ren, a sad pity mingling with his anger. “Are you crazy? You know I didn’t actually do any of that, right? It was all Kbr. They were the ones pulling the strings and manipulating the situation. Meanwhile, your label actually supported you.”
“Supported me?” Ren replied, dripping with sarcasm. “By dumping me on your fucking tour as an opening act? I should be the fucking headliner, not you.”
Tae Hyun shook his head, a bitter taste filling his mouth. There was no reasoning with this twisted version of his friend consumed by jealousy and ambition. “And the tabloid leak? That was you too, wasn’t it?”
“Of course, it was me!” Ren spat. “But it was your fault! You led me on, made me think there was something between us, then you fucking shut me down.” He snorted. “So, why not use it to my advantage?”
Tae Hyun recoiled as if he’d been slapped. Ren had been that cold and calculating all along. The bright, quirky, fun-loving Ren was just an act. “I don’t think that’s–”
“Don’t even bother,” Ren said, grabbing his jacket and rising from the couch. “I’ve had enough of this little interrogation, so I think I’ll head on up to the after-party now.”
Tae Hyun shook his head. “I don’t think so, Ren,” he coldly replied.
“What?” Ren growled, his eyes narrowing. “How exactly are you gonna stop me?”
Tae Hyun pulled his phone from his jacket and made a show of pressing the big, red stop button on the screen. “I recorded this whole conversation, Ren. It’s over.”
Ren’s second shift was almost too fast for Tae Hyun to catch. His cold, calculating demeanor dissolved into pure, vicious rage. “Give me that!” he shouted as he lunged for Tae Hyun’s phone.
Tae Hyun lurched out of reach, jumped from the chair, and quickly stepped back. “Don’t, Ren. It’s not worth it.”
“I’ll show you what I’m fucking worth,” Ren snarled as he charged with his fist raised and a wild look in his eyes.
But Ren never reached Tae Hyun. Seong Min charged from the bedroom where he’d been quietly waiting, catching Ren by the shoulder and wrapping him in a bear hug.
“That’s enough, sir,” Seong Min growled. “Stop now, or you could get hurt.”
Ren struggled against Seong Min’s hold on him, but it was pointless. Seong Min was a head taller and at least twice as heavy as Ren. He quickly gave up the fight, deflating into his final form, his fury melting into a whimpering helplessness.
Andre appeared in the doorway, followed by two of Ren’s security team–or rather, the tour’s security, who worked for Seong Min. They moved in unison, their movements practiced and efficient, as they escorted a now sobbing Ren from the room.
The sudden quiet after the blaze of Ren’s fury felt deafening. Tae Hyun shuddered, the adrenaline draining from his body, leaving behind a sickening hollowness. He reached for his champagne and downed the rest before flopping on the couch. “Is that it? Did we get it?”
Seong Min nodded. “Yes, sir.” He crouched to retrieve the digital recorder hidden beneath the coffee table. “We got everything.” He tucked the recorder into his jacket. “Are you alright?”
Tae Hyun shrugged. He was betrayed, angry, and utterly exhausted. “I don’t know. I guess so. What are we gonna do about Ren?”
“We’ll forward this recording to his label,” Seong Min solemnly replied. “They’ll take care of the rest.”
Tae Hyun slowly nodded. He didn’t feel any sense of triumph, only a dull ache for what could have been. He’d genuinely liked Ren and had seen him as a potential friend and kindred spirit. But the facade had crumbled, revealing a darkness he hadn’t anticipated. And he had no doubt Sunbeat would likely cut Ren loose for doing what he did. In a roundabout way, Ren was about to get his wish. But that was no longer his problem.
Tae Hyun forced himself to push aside the hurt and focus on the practicalities. “Good. Could you call Mina down here now? We’ve got some shit to figure out.”