Behind the spotlight

The thunderous applause still echoed in Han Jiwon's ears. Even back in the quiet hotel room, long after the lights had dimmed and the fans had filed out, his heart beat like a war drum. Every cell in his body vibrated with leftover adrenaline, and despite the exhaustion pulling at his limbs, sleep felt like a distant dream. The concert had been one of their best yet—an ocean of glowing lights, euphoric screams, and emotional moments that reminded Jiwon why he endured the brutal schedules and endless rehearsals. It was for them. For the fans. Without them, HORIZON wouldn't exist. "I don't think I can feel my legs anymore," Jiwon mumbled, collapsing backward onto the bed. He closed his eyes, sighing in satisfaction. "I gave everything tonight." Their dorm was too far from the venue, so their manager had arranged for them to stay at a luxury hotel downtown. The suite was far more elegant than what they were used to—white marble floors, velvet drapes, a bed that felt like a cloud. It would've been perfect, if not for one small detail. He had to share it with Raemin-hyung (Kang Raemin). Leader of HORIZON. Stoic. Brilliant. Intimidating. No one wanted to room with Reamin. He was respected, yes, but the kind of man who radiated authority even in his sleep. So, by process of elimination, Jiwon was stuck with him. Just for one night. He could survive it. Jiwon grabbed a soft cotton tee and a pair of shorts and was about to change when a knock interrupted his peace. A deep sigh left him. "Hyung! Can you get that?" "I'm not dressed yet!" Reamin called from the bathroom. "You do it!" "Unbelievable," Jiwon muttered under his breath, dragging himself across the room and opening the door. The man standing on the other side took his breath away. He was tall—taller than anyone Jiwon had ever met in person—and his presence was magnetic. His skin was a warm bronze, like polished mahogany under the hallway light, and his hazel eyes sparkled with a calm confidence that made Jiwon immediately conscious of his own bare legs and messy hair. "Uh... can I help you?" Jiwon asked, voice unsure. "Sorry—Is Reamin here?" the man asked in perfect English. Raemin? He didn't even used honorifics. They must be close. Jiwon blinked and nodded awkwardly. "Wait here." He turned his head. "Hyung! Someone's asking for you!" Raemin emerged moments later, towel slung around his neck, droplets of water running down his temples. "Kian?!" he exclaimed, instantly animated. "You're in Korea?" "Business trip," the man—Kian—replied. "Had to come out here for some negotiations. Figured I'd drop by and see you while I was in town." Raemin embraced him tightly, smiling wider than Jiwon had seen in weeks. The sight was oddly... warm. "Oh—Jiwon!" Raemin turned, remembering his presence. "This is Kian, my childhood friend. We were in the same class when I was about ten, before his family moved to the U.S. Kian, this is Han Jiwon. He's our lead vocalist and one of the most hardworking members of HORIZON." Kian turned to him with a disarming smile. "Nice to meet you, Jiwon." "You... speak Korean?" Jiwon asked, surprised. Kian laughed, smooth and deep. "Fluently. My mom made sure I never forgot it." Jiwon nodded, unsure of what else to say. "We're gonna catch up," Raemin said, tossing Jiwon the remote. "We'll take a walk—won't be long." Jiwon watched them leave, the door clicking shut behind them. He stood there a few seconds longer, staring at the space Kian had just occupied. There was something about him—something powerful, like a presence that lingered. He shook it off, climbed into bed, and pulled the blanket over himself. But sleep refused to come. Kian's face flashed behind his eyes again. That confident smirk. The way his voice settled deep in Jiwon's chest. He couldn't quite place it—maybe it was the height, the foreign aura, or those eyes that saw everything—but Kian had made an impression. Jiwon rolled onto his side and sighed. How did he even know which room we were in? The Next Morning Jiwon sat beside Minjae in the van, listening to him rap along to an old HORIZON track like his life depended on it. He always threw himself into Yoohan's parts like he was auditioning for a solo mixtape. Jiwon smirked and leaned against the window, watching the streets of Seoul pass by in a blur of neon and morning haze. Back at the dorm, things returned to their usual chaos. Once they returned, Jiwon changed into training clothes—black shorts, white shirt—and joined practice. With another concert just days away, every step had to be perfect. His vocals needed control. His body needed precision. They rehearsed for hours. Then, as the team took a break, Jiwon stayed behind in the studio, pushing himself harder. Sweat clung to his skin, his breath uneven, but he didn't stop—not until a faint knock made him pause. The door opened. Kian. Again. He stood there, casual and clean-cut in a designer coat, smiling like he owned the place. Raemin entered behind him and introduced him to the rest of the group. And within minutes, Kian had everyone laughing, joking, completely at ease. Later, Kian took them all out for dinner. He paid for everything—without even blinking at the bill. Jiwon glanced at the receipt and nearly choked. What kind of job pays for this? He waited until the group was distracted, then approached Kian. "Hey, Kian," Jiwon said, "if you don't mind me asking... what exactly do you do?" Kian looked amused. "I'm the CEO of Demps Global. It's a multinational marketing company. We're starting a major campaign with a Korean tech giant—so I had to be here personally." Jiwon's eyes widened. "So you're really a CEO?" "Didn't always want to be," Kian said with a shrug. "My dream was to be a pro football player. Got into the NFL too. But my parents had other plans." Jiwon was speechless. Kian didn't just look like a man who had his life together—he was that man. Dinner passed by peacefully, filled with light conversation about nothing in particular. As expected, Raemin ended up breaking his glass — which wasn't even surprising anymore. Everyone laughed it off before returning to the training room for practice. Kian chose to stay behind and watch them, something that puzzled Jiwon. How could a CEO of such a massive company have so much free time? Practice was intense, and by the end of it, Jiwon was drenched in sweat. He slipped off his shirt and headed to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. When he came back, Kian had stepped away from the group to take a phone call. The moment he answered, his smile faded. He didn't look happy. After the call, Kian returned to the room with his signature smile back in place — but Jiwon wasn't fooled. He smiled back politely, but he'd noticed how Kian's usual bright demeanor had dimmed. Trying to lighten the mood, Jiwon pulled out a ridiculous dance move. It worked. Kian let out a real smile — sincere and warm. He really did have a beautiful smile when it wasn't forced. Not long after, Kian stood up and told them he had to leave. He had dinner plans with his parents. Jiwon figured that must've been the phone call earlier. Either way, it wasn't his business. Back at the dorm, Jinwoo made a late-night snack for everyone, but Jiwon was far too exhausted to eat. He went straight to bed, letting some soft music play in the background to drown out the noise from the older members still up and talking. When Jiwon woke up, his first instinct was to check the time. "What the—? It's already 10?!" he muttered, groggy. "Why didn't anyone wake me?" He got up and went through his usual morning routine. Only when he was fully dressed and ready did he realize something strange — the dorm was completely empty. He texted Minjae. No response. Tried Yoohan. Nothing. With a long sigh, he collapsed onto the couch. They really left him here alone? The doorbell rang, snapping Jiwon out of his thoughts. He sprang to his feet. Please let it be them. He opened the door without checking — and there stood Kian. Not that he disliked the man or anything, but still... this made three days in a row. He stepped aside and let him in. "What are you doing here?" "Is Raemin around?" Kian asked, glancing past him into the empty dorm. "Sorry, but as you can see — no one's home." "You know where he went?" "No idea. No one's replying. I don't even know when they're coming back." Kian paused, his eyes flicking with some silent decision. Without warning, he reached for Jiwon's wrist and pulled him toward the door. "Wait— Where are we going?" Jiwon asked, stumbling after him. Kian didn't answer. He just smiled. Fifteen minutes later, they were standing in front of a high-end clothing boutique — the kind of place Jiwon would never dare enter on his own. He blinked, confused, as Kian started handing him outfit after outfit: button-downs, slacks, jackets. Eventually, Kian settled on a white dress shirt, a black blazer, matching trousers, and a striped tie. Then, as if he weren't already playing stylist of the year, he handed Jiwon a pair of thin-rimmed glasses. "You look too innocent. These make you look more serious," he said, adjusting them on Jiwon's nose with a little smirk. Before Jiwon could even protest, he found himself being dragged again — this time into a hair salon. "Wait. I can't just change my hair like that," Jiwon said, resisting a bit. "My company needs to approve everything—" Kian didn't care. He gently pushed Jiwon into a salon chair and called over a stylist like it was nothing. Was he serious? Was he out of his mind? Apparently so. Jiwon sighed as the stylist gave his blond strands a hesitant look. He liked his ash blond hair. It felt like a part of him. And judging by the stylist's expression, she liked it too. But Kian, apparently, had other plans. An hour later, Jiwon barely recognized the person staring back at him in the mirror. Ash blonde hair. Neatly styled. A little more mature. A little less idol. They agreed on not changing the hair colour. And, frustratingly... stunning. He let out a quiet sigh as Kian grinned beside him, clearly proud of his work. Soon after, they were in Kian's sleek black car, attracting stares everywhere they went. They pulled up in front of a restaurant that looked like the kind of place where water probably cost 30$. Even the building radiated wealth. Without hesitation, Kian led him inside, and a waiter immediately showed them to a private table. Jiwon glanced at him, puzzled. Kian folded his hands on the table, then finally explained, "You're probably wondering why I dragged you here." "No kidding," Jiwon muttered under his breath. "This was supposed to be Raemin," Kian admitted. "But since he's not around, I didn't really have a choice." He exhaled through his nose and looked away for a second, his voice dropping a little. "Yesterday, my parents told me they've arranged a meeting. With a girl. For marriage." He scoffed. "I don't even know her. The meeting's supposed to happen today. But I didn't want to go. So I told them I had plans with a friend — something I couldn't cancel." He rolled his eyes. "They said fine, bring your friend along." Jiwon blinked. "...Ah. So I'm the friend." "Exactly." A silence settled between them for a second before Kian brightened again. "We've got a little time before they get here. Might as well get to know each other. So... how old are you?" "Twenty-two," Jiwon replied. "You?" "Ah, then you can call me hyung," Kian grinned. "I'm twenty-six." They chatted for a bit, the tension slowly melting into something more comfortable — until the doors opened again, and Kian's parents arrived. With them was a girl wearing a skin-tight designer dress and too much perfume. Jiwon caught Kian rolling his eyes so hard they nearly disappeared into his skull. The girl's eyes landed on Jiwon, and she let out a soft, delighted gasp. He offered her a small smile. She sat beside him, clinging to his gaze like he was her new obsession. Lunch was... interesting. Kian's father started firing questions about Jiwon's career, mentioning connections, even suggesting he could introduce him to someone "nice." Jiwon laughed nervously, not sure if the man was joking. The food, at least, was incredible. And through the conversation, Jiwon learned more about Kian — his father was African, his mother Korean. It explained his unique look, his elegance, his presence. But then the air shifted. Kian's father dropped the pleasantries and brought up the reason they were all there: marriage. His tone was firm. Expectant. Kian's smile froze. He pushed back, calmly at first, then with rising frustration. The room grew heavy with tension. Just when it looked like he was about to snap— Kian stood up, reached across the table, and grabbed Jiwon's hand. Jiwon stared, alarmed. "What are you—?" He tried to pull away, but Kian held on — firm, unrelenting. Strong. All eyes were on them. And Jiwon's heart skipped a beat.