The city lights cast a faint glow through Kairo's bedroom window as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't slept well in weeks, not since the rumors and the whispers had begun to swirl around him like a storm he couldn't escape. Even Hana, his steadfast manager, seemed to look at him differently now, her words edged with irritation as she told him, "You're only causing more problems, Kairo. Don't you see that?"
The words gnawed at him, each one digging deeper than he let anyone see. He'd tried everything to ignore the doubts creeping into his mind, but tonight, they felt unbearable. In his world, even a whisper of weakness could spiral into a scandal. But he couldn't shake the need to feel understood, even if only by a stranger.
On impulse, he picked up his phone and began scrolling through his fan pages. As he tapped through the endless posts, one account caught his eye. It wasn't the typical glittering praise or idolized image of him; this fan wrote as if she knew him as if she saw beyond the makeup, the stage lights, the flawless smiles.
He lingered on her page, reading her posts and comments. She seemed to voice things he couldn't say, and her support, while passionate, felt somehow real. Genuine. A hint of warmth flickered within him. Without thinking, he clicked "follow," his fingers hesitating just a second before he hit confirm.
The moments that followed were a blur. He opened a blank email, created a new account under a pseudonym, and crafted an anonymous profile no photos, no followers, just a silent observer. It felt wrong somehow, but the need to connect outweighed his better judgment.
When he returned to her page, he tapped out a simple comment under one of her posts about him: "Sometimes, it's hard to see the real person behind the stage, right?"
Within minutes, she replied, her excitement palpable even through the screen: "Yes! Exactly! People forget that idols are people, too. They don't know how hard you must work every day just to be human."
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, and he started typing.
From that moment, their chats became a secret solace for him. Every night, as he lay in the dark, his mind racing with anxieties he couldn't share with anyone, he opened his phone to their conversations. She was always there, ready to respond. And, somehow, it felt like she was listening. Really listening.
He told her things he'd never dared voice aloud, even in the quietest moments: the pressure, the exhaustion, the ache of constant scrutiny. "Some days, it feels like the world expects me to be perfect, and I don't know if I can keep pretending," he typed one night, his heart racing as he hit send.
Her reply was swift: "You don't have to pretend with me. I get it. I see the real you, even if no one else does."
It was only text on a screen, yet her words eased something inside him, a soft reassurance that he hadn't felt in so long. His eyes stung as he typed back, his fingers trembling, "Thank you. I don't think anyone understands me like you do."
She responded with a heart emoji and a simple, "I'll always support you, Kairo. Always."
Days passed, and he began craving their conversations. She made him feel seen, a rarity in his isolated life. The way she spoke about his struggles, her insight into his career, even her comments about his relationship with Hana made him wonder was it possible she truly knew him in a way no one else did? Their connection became his sanctuary, his escape from the spotlight's relentless glare.
But over time, her words took a darker turn, each conversation hinting at doubts he hadn't let himself dwell on before.
"Hana doesn't really get you, does she?" she'd messaged one night, following up with, "I mean, she's just there for the job, right? You need someone who sees you for who you are."
Kairo stared at her message, his heart sinking. The thought of Hana as nothing more than a business partner hurt more than he expected, and he shook it off, typing quickly, "No, she's always been there for me. She just... cares a lot."
"But does she understand you?" Yuna pressed gently. "You deserve someone who truly sees the real you."
The words lingered, curling through his mind like smoke. He didn't want to admit it, but lately, Hana's frustration felt almost like rejection. And then there was Yeseo, who always seemed to look at him like he was a glass she couldn't fill. He'd noticed it before but brushed it off as nerves. Now, though, doubt seeped into his thoughts, quietly echoing Yuna's questions.
One evening, after another long exchange, Kairo closed his phone and stared at the ceiling. The late-night chats, once a source of comfort, left a bitter aftertaste now, a mix of reassurance and guilt. He was slipping into something he didn't fully understand, drawn to the only person who seemed to care without strings attached, and yet… he felt a slight pang of regret. He had been connecting to this fan, a stranger, more than he had to his closest friends, even Hana, who'd been with him from the beginning.
He closed his eyes, letting the quiet envelop him. His secret bond with this fan felt like a lifeline, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was drifting, further and further from the person he once was.
And though he didn't know it yet, that bond was about to drag him into a darkness he might never escape.