Reaching My Star | A Chaennie AU

Chapter 9: Mrs. Choi, Detective (Jennie 21; Rosé 24)

Rosé was alone in the dimly lit living room of her home. Rosé sat perched on the edge of the plush sofa, her fingers nervously tapping against her phone. The usual post-show high that left her buzzing was strangely absent tonight, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease she couldn't shake.

Mrs. Choi, her ever-present manager, sat across from her, going over some final details about the upcoming schedule. The older woman's voice was calm and methodical.

Rosé bit her lip, her thoughts spinning in circles. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. "Mrs. Choi," she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Mrs. Choi looked up from her tablet, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "Yes?"

Rosé hesitated, her eyes flitting around the room as if searching for the right words. "I need you to do something for me," she said, trying to keep her tone casual but failing to mask the concern in her eyes.

Mrs. Choi's curiosity was piqued. She put down the tablet and leaned forward slightly, giving Rosé her full attention. "What is it?"

Rosé took a deep breath, feeling a knot tighten in her chest. "It's about one of my fans, Jennie. You remember her, right? The pretty girl with the cheeks? She used to be at every event, always in the front row, always so supportive."

Mrs. Choi's face softened with recognition. "Yes, I remember her. She was one of your most devoted fans. What about her?"

Rosé's fingers fidgeted with the hem of her oversized hoodie, a habit she had whenever she was anxious. "She's been missing for months, and I'm... I'm really worried about her."

Mrs. Choi frowned, her brows knitting together. "Missing? How do you mean?"

"Her fan accounts," Rosé explained, her voice tinged with frustration and worry. "They just stopped updating. She was always so active, so involved. And now... nothing. I've tried reaching out, but there's no response. It's like she's vanished into thin air."

Mrs. Choi took a deep breath, understanding the weight of the situation. Rosé was usually so focused on her career, on perfecting every performance, that it was rare for her to be this distracted by something—or someone—outside of work. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"I need you to secretly investigate," Rosé said earnestly, her eyes pleading. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I just want to make sure she's okay. I don't care if she stopped being a fan or moved on. I just need to know if she's in trouble—health issues, financial problems, anything. I want to help if I can. It's the least I can do after all the support she's given me."

Mrs. Choi studied Rosé's face, seeing the genuine concern etched into her features. "Alright," she said finally, her voice gentle. "I'll see what I can do. But I'll need some time to look into this properly. Send me her account details, and anything else you might have."

Relief flooded through Rosé, and she managed a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Choi. I really appreciate it."

As Mrs. Choi left to begin her discreet investigation, Rosé remained seated, her thoughts still consumed by Jennie. She opened her phone and scrolled through Jennie's old fan account, hoping to find some clue she might have missed before. But nothing had changed since the last time she looked—the same posts, the same photos, frozen in time like a snapshot of a life that no longer existed.

Rosé hesitated for a long moment, then decided to take a chance. She needed to reach out directly, even if it seemed like a long shot. Taking a deep breath, she typed a message, her fingers hovering over the screen before she finally pressed send:

@rosieanne: Hi! I know it's been a while, and I've been missing your updates. I just wanted to check in and see if you're okay. If you're not into the fan stuff anymore, that's fine, but I'm genuinely concerned about you. Please let me know if you're alright.

She stared at the screen, she knew that Jennie might not reply—might not even see the message—but she needed to try. Something deep inside her wouldn't let her just walk away without making this one last effort.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Choi began her search with quiet determination. She discreetly contacted various sources, delving into any available information about Jennie. It was a task fraught with challenges and uncertainties, but Mrs. Choi understood the importance of what she was asked to do. This was about more than just Rosé's peace of mind—it was about ensuring the well-being of someone who had become a part of their world, even if only from a distance.

Back in her living room, Rosé sat alone, staring at her phone as the hours passed. The screen remained stubbornly blank, no notifications, no messages, no sign of life from Jennie's account. The silence was deafening, and Rosé felt helpless that she hadn't experienced in a long time.

She closed her eyes, leaning back against the sofa, and tried to push the thoughts away. But no matter how hard she tried, the image of Jennie's smiling face kept resurfacing, along with the nagging worry that something was terribly wrong.

"I hope you're okay, Jennie," Rosé whispered into the quiet room, her voice barely audible. "Wherever you are, I just hope you're okay."

And as the night wore on, Rosé found herself still waiting, still hoping, and still haunted by the unanswered question that hung in the air: What had happened to Jennie?