Shadows of the Spotlight

Chapter 70

The practice went on for hours. At some point or another, everyone took a break—everyone except Arc. He kept walking the ramp, again and again, never pausing, never faltering. It was only when the designer finally called it a day that he stopped, stepping down like he'd just snapped out of a trance.

I was standing at the curb, waiting for a taxi, as the rest of the crew loaded into the van. Jihoon jogged over to me, slightly out of breath.

"Why don't you take a bodyguard with you?" he asked.

"I'm going straight home. There's no need—nothing's going to happen there," I replied with a laugh, waving off his concern.

He looked uneasy. His eyes kept shifting sideways. I followed his gaze—and saw Arc standing beside the van, arms folded, watching quietly.

"Frankly," I added, trying to make light of the moment, "no one wants to know about me or get close to me. It's Arc they want to see so badly. So as long as I'm alone, I don't need a bodyguard."

Arc caught my words. He didn't say anything—just gave Jihoon a slight nod. Jihoon hesitated, then reluctantly said, "Okay, if you're sure."

Just then, my taxi arrived. I waved them goodbye and got in.

Returning home felt nice.

I unpacked my duffel bag quickly and then gathered a few essentials. On a whim, I stopped by my parents' place. I'd told them I was in New York, but hadn't said when—or if—I'd be able to visit. But after the day I'd had, I just wanted the comfort of their familiar warmth.

Dinner was delicious, and I genuinely enjoyed the time with them. The plan was to stay the night and return to the hotel in the morning since tomorrow's call time wasn't until 11 a.m.

But later that night, as I lay on the couch scrolling through my phone, a notification popped up:

Galaxy's Arc Shows Displeasure Over Fan Behavior at Airport Today.

I clicked on it.

The article reported that Arc had gone live a few hours ago, expressing his disappointment with the chaos at the airport earlier that day. He shared that a staff member had been injured in the incident. There were pictures—blurry shots of the morning's chaos. One showed the moment I'd fallen, and another captured Arc helping me into the van. My face was obscured by a mask and cap, and the article made no attempt to identify me—just referred to "a staff member."

My heart clenched.

I quickly said goodbye to my parents, flagged down a taxi, and headed back to the hotel.

On the way, I opened the video of Arc's livestream.

He looked tired—his expression serious as he recounted what had happened. He didn't mention me by name, didn't give any identifying details, but he made it clear that someone from his staff had gotten hurt.

"이건 내가 팬들에게 기대하는 행동이 아니야(This isn't the behavior I expect from fans)," he said, his tone calm but firm. "제 크루 덕분에 제 음악과 공연을 여러분과 공유할 수 있어요. 24시간 내내 함께해요. 콘서트, 팬 사인회, 인터뷰, 리허설까지. 그리고 오늘... 그 혼란 속에서 그들이 다쳤어요.(My crew is the reason I can share my music, my performances, with you all. They work around the clock—concerts, fan signs, interviews, rehearsals. And today... they got hurt because of the chaos.)"

He paused, glancing down for a second before continuing.

"누구든 그럴 수 있었습니다. 아이였든, 지나가던 사람이었든. 설령 제 직원들이 아니었더라도, 오늘 일어난 일은 안전하지 않았습니다. 제발, 이런 일이 다시 일어나서는 안 됩니다.(It could've been anyone. A kid, a passerby. Even if it hadn't been my staff—what happened today wasn't safe. Please, this can't happen again.)"