Moonlight Melodies

Chapter 4- Digital Scent

Tae’s POV

The hours leading up to a show are usually a blur of hairspray, stage cues, and vocal warm-ups, but today, the air in the dressing room felt electric. My wolf was pacing so hard I felt dizzy. Every time the door opened, I expected to catch her scent, even though I knew she was miles away, hopefully getting ready.

“Tae, sit still! I can’t do your eyeliner if you’re vibrating,” our stylist, Min-ji, complained, pressing a firm hand onto my shoulder.

“Sorry,” I muttered, though my leg kept bouncing.

Hye walked in, looking sharp in a velvet blazer. He looked at me through the vanity mirror and gave a subtle nod. “The tickets were delivered. Confirmed. Our courier said the house was quiet, but the scent was there. She’s real, Tae. And she’s definitely yours.”

I felt a rush of heat flood my chest. “Did she see him?”

“No. We’re professionals, remember?” Hye sat on the edge of the table, his expression turning serious. “But something else came up. While I was digging into her digital footprint, I ran into a firewall. Not a government one. A private one.”

I frowned, looking away from the eyeliner brush. “What do you mean?”

“Someone is paying a lot of money to keep her history scrubbed,” Hye whispered, leaning in so the stylists wouldn't hear. “Her birth records are sealed. Her mother’s name is listed, but the father’s side is a complete blank—not just unknown, but redacted. It looks like high-level protection.”

My heart hammered. “Is she in danger?”

“I don’t know yet. But people don't hide like that unless they’re running from something big. Just keep your head in the game tonight. If she shows up, your bond will tell you more than a computer ever could.”

I looked at my reflection. The Sweet Boy stared back, but beneath the makeup and the idol glitter, something ancient was waking up. If someone was hunting my mate, they were going to find out the hard way that she was protected by a pack now.

Babz’s POV

Tina had been at my flat for three hours, and my bedroom currently looked like a textile factory had exploded. Clothes were strewn across every available surface, and the smell of hairspray was thick enough to choke a horse.

“Not the gray sweater, Babz! We are going to the front row, not a library!” Tina yelled, tossing a sequined top at me.

“Tina, it’s a theater, not a club,” I laughed, though my stomach was doing somersaults.

I walked over to my vanity and picked up a small, old photograph I kept tucked into the corner of the mirror. It was a picture of my mother when she was young, standing in front of a forest I didn't recognize. She looked happy, but there was always a shadow in her eyes—the same shadow I saw in the mirror every morning.

“Stay quiet, Babz,” she used to whisper when I was a child. “The world is beautiful, but it has teeth. Don’t let them see you.”

She had died taking her secrets to the grave, leaving me with nothing but a small pendant and a feeling that I was constantly waiting for a storm to break. Was this concert the storm? Or was it the shelter?

I looked at the tickets sitting on the dresser. The handwriting on the note was so familiar, yet I couldn't place it. It felt like a memory from a dream.

“You okay?” Tina asked, her voice softening as she noticed me staring at the old photo.

“Yeah,” I lied, forced a smile, and grabbed the sequined top. “I’m fine. Just nerves.”

“It’s going to be the best night of our lives,” Tina promised, pulling me into a hug. “Think about it. Out of thousands of fans, you got those tickets. Someone up there is looking out for you.”

I wished I shared her optimism. As I got ready, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't just going to a concert. I was walking toward a crossroads. I checked my reflection one last time—the girl who lived in the middle of nowhere was gone. In her place was someone standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump.

Tae POV

Backstage – 15 Minutes to Showtime

The muffled roar of the crowd could be heard through the heavy theater curtains. It was a different sound than the arena—more intimate, more intense.

Hye, Ha-Joon, and I stood in the wings, our hands stacked together in our traditional pre-show huddle.

“For the pack,” Ha-Joon whispered. “For the fans,” Hye added. “For her,” I finished, my voice thick with emotion.

We broke the huddle, and I stepped toward the curtain, peeking through a tiny sliver of fabric. The front row was glowing under the ambient stage lights. My breath hitched.

There, in seat A-12, was the girl from the photo.

She was even more beautiful in person. The camera hadn't captured the way the light hit her hair or the nervous way she was biting her lip. But it was the scent that hit me next—even through the heavy curtains and the smell of floor wax and perfume, I caught it.

Wild berries. Salt air. And a hint of something that smelled like home.

My wolf let out a low, possessive thrum that made my entire body ache. I didn't care about the choreography. I didn't care about the lyrics. I just wanted to leap off the stage and claim what was mine.

“Showtime, Tae,” Hye whispered, squeezing my shoulder. “Go get her.”

The lights went black. The crowd screamed. And as the opening notes of 'Rise Again' filled the theater, I stepped into the spotlight, my eyes locked on the only person in the room who mattered.