A Backstage Love I Han Jisung x Reader

The Deceitful

The thought struck me like a thunderbolt, the implications ricocheting through my mind. The hit-and-run. My breathing quickened as the memory surfaced—the screech of tires, the shattering impact, and the haze of confusion and pain afterward.

Had it been intentional all along?

A sick knot formed in my stomach as I pieced the puzzle together. My recovery, Han's unwavering support, the growing closeness between us—it all seemed so fragile now, like a thread someone was trying to cut.

I locked my phone, tossing it onto the counter as if that could erase the words from my mind. But the message lingered, echoing in the stillness of my apartment. The first attempt to hurt me had failed. Whoever this was, they weren't bluffing, and they weren't done.

I paced the room, heart pounding. If they know about Han, they could be watching us. Tracking every move. The thought of putting him in harm's way made my skin crawl. I couldn't let that happen—not to him.

But I couldn't let them win, either.

Grabbing my phone again, I scrolled through my contacts, hesitating over Han's name. My thumb hovered over the screen as doubt seeped in. If I tell him, I'll drag him deeper into this mess. But if I don't...

I exhaled shakily, opting instead to open my email. Quickly, I drafted a message to a private investigator I'd used in the past, detailing the anonymous threat and hinting at its possible connection to the hit-and-run. If someone was watching me, I needed someone to watch them.

As I hit send, I glanced toward the balcony doors. The city lights glittered in the distance, but they felt cold, detached—a far cry from the warmth of earlier in the evening. Somewhere out there, someone wanted me gone.

A noise from the hallway outside snapped me out of my thoughts. My head whipped toward the door, heart racing as the sound of footsteps echoed closer. Paranoia clawed at me, and I moved to the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the block.

The footsteps paused. A faint rustle, like paper slipping beneath the door, followed.

I waited, breath held, until the footsteps receded into silence.

Slowly, I approached the door and saw the edge of an envelope peeking through. My hands trembled as I pulled it free, flipping it over to find nothing but my name scrawled on the front. No stamp, no return address—just that unmistakable air of malice.

I opened it with the blade of the knife, the paper tearing in jagged lines.

Inside was a single photograph.

Of Han and me.

Taken from the balcony earlier that evening.

I stared at the photograph, my fingers trembling. The angle—it was taken from above. Someone had been watching us, not from the street, but likely from another building. My heart raced as I examined the photo more closely, as if it might yield some hidden clue. Nothing. Just Han and me, seated on the balcony, completely oblivious to the danger closing in.

I knew I couldn't let this slide. Not after the text. Not after this.

Grabbing the knife more tightly, I checked the peephole in my door. The hallway was empty, but the silence outside felt oppressive, like it was pressing in on all sides. My mind screamed at me to lock every door and window, but I had to take one step at a time.

I slid the chain across the door, twisting the deadbolt. Then I moved to the balcony, peering cautiously past the edge of the curtain. The city glimmered like nothing was wrong, but for the first time, it felt less like a vibrant world and more like a predator's lair.

What do they want? Why Han?

My phone buzzed, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The screen lit up with Han's name. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. What could I tell him? That someone was after me—after us—and that I was too afraid to protect him properly?

I took a breath, forcing calm into my voice as I answered.

"Hey," I said, but the edge in my tone was impossible to hide.

"Hey," Han's voice was light, soothing, but there was a hint of concern. "Are you okay? You sounded... distracted earlier."

Distracted. That was an understatement.

"I'm fine," I lied, hating how the words tasted. "Just tired. It's been a long day."

He paused, as if considering whether to believe me. "Y/N, if something's wrong, you'd tell me, right?"

My throat tightened. "Of course I would."

Another pause. Then his voice softened. "You know I care about you, right? And not just in a casual way. I mean it. If there's something going on, you don't have to go through it alone."

The weight of his words crushed me. I wanted to tell him, to let him carry this burden with me, but the thought of him becoming a target made me clamp my mouth shut.

"I know," I whispered, gripping the phone like a lifeline. "Thank you, Han. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," he said reluctantly. "But don't think I'm letting you off the hook. Sweet dreams."

I hung up, staring at the phone. There was no way I could let him come back here until I figured out who was behind this.

The envelope sat on the counter, the photo taunting me. I snapped a picture of it and sent it to the private investigator with a message.

Urgent. Need background on who could've taken this. High priority.

I didn't expect an immediate response, but within a few minutes, a new email came through.

"Watch your back. Call me. We need to talk."

My stomach dropped. I dialed immediately, and the PI's gravelly voice greeted me.

"This is bad," he said without preamble. "I've looked into the hit-and-run like you asked before, and there's something you need to know. That wasn't random. It was a warning."

"A warning from who?" My voice cracked.

"I can't confirm yet, but this isn't some amateur playing games. These people are serious, and they have resources. If they've escalated to this level, you're in over your head."

A chill ran through me. "What do I do?"

"You have to stay low. Cut ties with anyone they might use to get to you. If Han is important to you—"

"He is." My voice was sharp.

"Then you need to keep him out of this. For his safety."

The words hit like a sledgehammer. Cutting ties with Han would be like tearing a part of myself away, but the thought of him being hurt because of me was unbearable.

"Do you have somewhere safe to go?" the PI asked.

I thought for a moment. My mind raced through a thousand options, but none seemed viable. "Not yet."

"Find somewhere. Soon. And call me if anything else happens."

The call ended, leaving me in a deafening silence.

I glanced around my apartment, once a place of comfort, now a cage where I was being watched. Han's face came to mind, his easy smile, the way he always made me feel like I wasn't alone.

I sank to the floor, clutching the photograph. If they think they can scare me away, they don't know who they're dealing with.

But first, I had to protect Han. No matter what it cost me.