The Grand Theater looked different at night.
Min-Hee sat in the empty auditorium, staring at the stage where her mother had performed Madame Butterfly twenty years ago. The house lights were off, but someone had left the work lights on backstage—bare bulbs that cast harsh shadows across the velvet curtains.
Seo-Yoon was somewhere in the back offices with Choi Yu-Jin, handling permits and vendor contracts and a thousand other details Min-Hee couldn't think about right now. The memorial concert was scheduled for three days from now. Seventy-two hours to prepare something that should take months.
It was impossible.
They were doing it anyway.
"Your mother would have liked this."
Min-Hee didn't turn around. She'd learned to recognize Do-Hyun's presence now—the way the air shifted, the fai
