Shadows of the Spotlight

Chapter 68

Arc was still sleeping on my lap when we reached Manchester. I slowly lifted his head and, with some difficulty, eased him into an upright position. Carefully, I rolled the pillow from my lap and tucked it to the side of his head, turning it into a makeshift neck pillow to keep his head from lolling around as we drove the final stretch to the venue.

Once we arrived at the hotel, I slipped out of the van as quietly as I could and informed Jihoon that Arc was still asleep. He nodded and said he'd wake him. I didn't linger—I made my way to the reception desk, picked up my room key, freshened up quickly, and joined the crew on the way to the venue to prepare the audio equipment.

Arc arrived shortly after, and rehearsals began in full swing. I worked beside him while maintaining a strictly professional distance, despite the vivid memory of his head resting on my lap not long ago. We rehearsed that day and the next till late into the night, with barely enough time to catch our breath before the actual concert began.

Immediately after the concert ended, we headed straight to the airport. Jihoon had instructed us to travel light—only essentials in our carry-ons. Everything else would be sent with the larger crew directly to Amsterdam. The travel team to New York remained the same as before, with the addition of two assistants for Ji-hye and Jin-ho.

The past two days had left me completely drained. So much so, I fell asleep the moment our flight to New York took off. When I woke up, we were already preparing to land.

The second we stepped off the plane and reached the arrival area, a tidal wave of screaming fans crashed toward us—loud, relentless, and nearly impossible to contain. The airport had been flooded with people, cameras flashing in every direction. Security tried to form a barrier, but they were badly outnumbered. The passion of the fans quickly overpowered their strength.

I was right behind Arc, my head down, cap pulled low, mask secured tightly—but it didn't matter. The surge of bodies was too powerful. I could barely keep my balance as people pushed forward, shouting, trying to catch even a glimpse of Arc.

A sudden shove from behind sent me lurching forward—I stumbled and crashed against Arc's back, my hands splayed against him for balance. My heart thundered in my chest, my breath catching in panic.

Even Arc, usually calm in chaos, looked visibly shaken. He turned to Jihoon and Dae-jung, whispering something quickly. Both men nodded, tension evident in their faces. Dae-jung relayed the message through his earpiece, directing the team to form two protective circles—one around Arc, and one for the rest of the crew.

But the fans saw the bodyguards approaching and surged even harder, misunderstanding the movement as a signal to get closer. In that moment of confusion, I was shoved hard—so hard I lost my footing entirely.

I hit the ground.

A sharp cry escaped my lips before I could stop it—a sound torn from the panic rising inside me. Everything blurred. The roar of the crowd, the stomp of feet, the flash of phones. My pulse raced as people surged around me. For a horrifying moment, I thought I might be trampled.

Arc stopped dead in his tracks.

He turned back, eyes scanning the crowd, and the moment he saw me on the ground, he pushed through the chaos without hesitation. The bodyguards followed, forming a tight shield around me in seconds.

Arc dropped to his knees beside me, his voice tight with concern and asked,"괜찮아? (You okay?)"

I could only nod, trembling. The fear hadn't left me. My throat was tight, chest heaving. My palms were scraped, my legs weak. I didn't even feel the pain—I just felt frightened.