A Backstage Love I Han Jisung x Reader

The Ultimate Sacrifice

I spent the rest of the night weighing my options. Going into hiding might be the safest route, but it wouldn't solve anything. Whoever this person was, they wanted to scare me into submission. But I wasn't going to let fear win.

If they thought they could control me, they had no idea who they were dealing with.

First, I called the PI back, explaining my plan in clipped sentences, my voice steadier than I expected.

"You want to lure them out?" he asked, a note of caution in his tone. "That's risky."

"Everything about this is risky," I replied. "But hiding won't stop them. I need them to reveal themselves. Can you be ready to catch them?"

The PI hesitated. "I'll need a day to get my team in place. You sure you can hold your ground until then?"

"I don't have another choice."

The call ended, and I spent the next few hours preparing. The apartment became a stage, every detail arranged to make it seem like I was oblivious to the looming threat. Curtains slightly open. Lights dimmed but not off. My phone left casually on the counter, just visible through the window.

But I wasn't unarmed. The kitchen knife remained within reach, and I had a second blade strapped to my thigh. A few other improvised weapons were tucked in strategic spots. My heart raced, but my mind stayed sharp.

The bait was subtle—something only the stalker would understand. I changed my profile picture on a messaging app, choosing an old photo of the view from the café where Han and I had shared countless stolen moments. To anyone else, it was just a scenic image. But to the person watching me, it would send a clear signal: I wasn't backing down.

Hours later, my phone buzzed.

You think you're clever. I'll remind you what's at stake.

A chill ran down my spine. The message was brief but enough to confirm they were still watching—and willing to act.

I called the PI immediately, whispering the update as I paced the apartment. "They took the bait. What now?"

"Now, we wait," the PI said, his tone calm but firm. "Stay inside, keep the lights dim, and act normal. My team is stationed nearby."

The night stretched on endlessly. I moved around the apartment in a carefully choreographed routine, making it look as though I was settling in for a quiet night. My movements were deliberate, casual—an invitation for the stalker to make their move.

Around midnight, I heard it: the faint sound of someone trying the lock on my front door.

My breath hitched, but I stayed still, knife in hand, positioned where I couldn't be seen through the peephole. The doorknob jiggled again, more insistent this time, before going still.

My phone buzzed with a new message:

You should really lock your balcony door.

My stomach twisted. The balcony? My mind raced as I tried to stay calm.

I rushed quietly out of bed to the door. It was shut, but unlocked. My breath hitched as I looked around the dim apartment. Steeling myself, I opened the door slightly, just enough to peek my head out into the night air.

That's when I felt it—a cold, unyielding blade pressing against the soft skin of my throat.

"Don't scream."

The voice was low, rough, and chillingly calm. My breath caught, and my heart thundered in my chest. Slowly, I raised my hands, my body stiff with terror as the intruder stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

The blade pressed closer, just enough to sting, and I could feel the warmth of their breath against my ear. "You should've stayed quiet. Now, you've made things messy."

My mind raced, desperate to find a way out. The panic clawing at my chest threatened to take over, but I forced myself to focus. Think, Y/N. Think.

"You've got guts," they sneered, their voice dripping with mockery. "But you don't get to play games with people like me. Not without consequences."

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling in the air. "If you hurt me, they'll come for you. You know that, right?"

The attacker laughed, a low, menacing sound. "You think anyone's coming? Your little boyfriend? He's not here to save you."

Their words struck a nerve, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I allowed my knees to buckle slightly, feigning weakness. The knife eased just enough for me to pivot. My elbow shot back, catching them in the ribs, and I used the momentary lapse to twist free.

The attacker recovered fast, lunging at me with the knife. I stumbled backward, crashing into the table. Pain shot through my hip, but I ignored it, grabbing the nearest thing I could reach—a heavy ceramic mug.

As they came at me again, I swung with all my strength. The mug shattered against their forearm, causing them to curse and drop the knife.

For a moment, hope surged in my chest, but it was short-lived. The attacker recovered, shoving me hard against the wall. Their hand wrapped around my throat, pinning me in place as I gasped for air.

"You're tougher than I thought," they growled, their eyes glinting with something dark and feral. "But this ends now."

Desperation fueled my next move. I clawed at their arm with one hand while groping blindly with the other. My fingers found the jagged handle of the broken mug on the floor.

Summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I drove the shard into their side.

The attacker cried out, their grip loosening just enough for me to shove them off and scramble to my feet. They staggered back, clutching their side, blood seeping through their fingers.

"You... you'll regret this," they spat, retreating toward the balcony.

"I already do," I shot back, my voice shaking but resolute.

They gave me one last glare before climbing over the railing and disappearing into the night, leaving me alone and trembling in the wreckage of my apartment.

As soon as they were gone, I collapsed onto the floor, the adrenaline draining from my body like a tide retreating from the shore. My throat burned, and my hands shook so violently I struggled to unlock my phone. Finally, I managed to call the PI.

"They were here," I whispered hoarsely as the line connected. "They tried to—" My voice cracked, and I sucked in a shuddering breath. "They're gone now, but I need help. Please."

The urgency in my tone must have conveyed enough. The PI didn't hesitate, contacting the police task force immediately. This wasn't just a case of escalating threats anymore—it was clear the danger extended beyond me. Han's safety was now in jeopardy, too.

The police arrived quickly, swarming the apartment and performing a thorough sweep. I insisted the attacker had fled, leaping from the balcony, but they didn't take any chances.

Once they deemed the area secure, they turned their attention to me, their questions coming in rapid succession: "What did the attacker look like? Male or female? Approximate height? Race? Anything distinctive?"

But I had nothing. My stomach twisted with frustration as I shook my head. "It was too dark," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "The only time they were close enough to see clearly... I couldn't turn around. They had me pinned, the knife—" My words faltered, and I swallowed hard.

The officers exchanged glances, their expressions grim but unreadable. I hated how powerless I felt, how little I had to give them despite having come face to face with the threat.