Shadows of the Spotlight

Chapter 7

I woke up to the gentle hum of the air conditioner, my body betraying me once again by sticking to its early-morning routine. The clock on the bedside table read 7:03 a.m., and I let out a small groan. I could've slept in today—really, I could've—but old habits die hard, I guess.

I took in the room around me, admiring it now that I was fully awake. It was luxurious, more so than I was used to, but not quite the jaw-dropping extravagance of Arc's suite yesterday. The bed was massive, with soft white sheets and pillows that felt like clouds. I'd almost rolled up into them like a burrito last night. Across from the bed was a sleek desk in dark wood, with a large TV hanging above it. In one corner, there was a small sitting area—a pair of gray-blue armchairs and a low table that made the space feel like a tiny living room. It all felt a bit too fancy for me, if I'm being honest, but it was a nice change.

Pushing back the covers, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stretched. There was no way I'd fall back asleep, and I figured I might as well get ready. The schedule for today didn't start until 11, but I liked having a calm morning to myself. Plus, there was something oddly exciting about wandering around a hotel when it was practically empty.

After a quick shower, I threw on some comfortable clothes, pulled my hair into a loose ponytail, and slipped out of the room. The hallway was quiet, and I half-expected to have the entire floor to myself. But as I rounded the corner, I stopped, surprised to see people already moving around. Staff members were bustling about with trays, luggage, and other equipment, looking just as awake as if it were noon. So much for my "quiet morning" idea.

With no real plan in mind, I wandered down the hall, figuring I'd at least get a feel for the hotel's layout. Following the faint scent of coffee, I eventually made my way to the lobby, where an impressive breakfast spread had been set up. Fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, and what looked like an endless selection of breads covered the tables. And there, gleaming like a prize, was a coffee machine.

A small sigh escaped me as I approached it. Coffee was exactly what I needed to start my morning off right. I found the biggest cup I could and filled it with a dark roast, humming to myself as the coffee poured. The rich smell wrapped around me, and I was already imagining that first sip.

But as I turned to take my coffee back to a quiet corner, a voice sounded right behind me.

"That looks good."

Startled, I spun around, and there he was—Arc. He was just standing there, hands casually in his pockets, watching me with that familiar spark in his eyes. He looked relaxed, with his hair slightly tousled and dressed down in a hoodie, but there was no mistaking him.

I blinked, surprised to see him up so early and caught completely off guard. "Oh! Good morning," I managed, clutching my coffee cup a little tighter.

He smiled, a soft, easy smile that made his face seem warmer, somehow even friendlier than yesterday. "Good morning," he replied.

I found myself stepping closer, my earlier curiosity flaring up again. I couldn't shake the image of him sitting alone last night, looking out over the city, lost in thought. There was something unexpectedly vulnerable about it, and now, standing here, it struck me again how different he seemed from in public. I was now curious about how he looked on the stage.

"하나 마실래?" (Do you want one?) I asked, surprising myself with the fluidity of my Korean. It felt oddly natural speaking to him in his native language.

He blinked, taken aback for a moment, then looked at my cup and nodded. "응, 좋아." (Yeah, sounds good.)

"좋아! 잠깐만." (Great! Just a moment.) I handed him my cup and turned back to the coffee machine, my heart racing a little. As I set to work on making another cup, I glanced over my shoulder. He was watching me, a curious smile playing on his lips.