Under the Flashlight

The bass rumble from the main stage of Jakarta's Indoor Stadium still shook the concrete floor backstage. The thud of electronic music blended with the roar of tens of thousands of voices, creating a deafening din. Under lights that shifted color every few seconds, thousands of blue-gold glow sticks swayed in unison—an ocean of light that seemed to breathe on its own.

But in the corridor behind the stage—a narrow labyrinth of temporary drywall that smelled of air conditioning, expensive perfume, and sweat—the atmosphere was anything but poetic.

"Two minutes! Final encore, straight into a two-minute talk segment, then the ending pose! Leon, your coat!"

A staff member jogged over carrying a sheer mesh coat studded with Swarovski crystals. Without breaking stride, the figure she called out to reached both arms back, letting two assistants fasten the coat to his shoulders with movements they'd memorized by heart.

Leon—Leonidas Evan—adjusted the position of his in-ear monitor. His breath still came ragged from the four-minute dance number he'd just finished, sweat still dripping from his jaw. But the moment the coat settled into place, something in his face shifted—fast, almost imperceptible—and a polished, practiced smile bloomed across his lips. A faint dimple appeared on his left cheek. This was the face known to millions: main vocalist and center of the top-tier idol group ECLIPSE, twenty-three years old.

"Water," he said shortly, not turning.

Gavin, the oldest member of ECLIPSE, wiped his neck with a small towel while holding out a squeeze bottle. "Man, the crowd tonight could burst an eardrum. You still got the high notes for *Orbit*, Le?"

Leon took a small sip, just enough to wet his throat, then handed the bottle back with a chuckle. "Since when do I miss a high note, Gav? Besides, it's the last night of the Asia tour. If we're not going all out now, might as well go home and sleep."

"Now that's our center!" Mika—the third member, his silver hair freshly styled—clapped Leon's shoulder a little hard. "Remember, there's a short after-party with the sponsor execs after this. No zoning out like yesterday."

"Relax. I always know when to smile and when to talk," Leon replied, thin.

His eyes flicked briefly to the portable mirror in the corner of the hallway. A sharp face with soft lines around the eyes. Healthy tan skin glowing under the spotlights. A pair of clear dark brown eyes—too clear, as if they never held anything behind them. To the public, Leon was the perfect definition of an idol: handsome, talented, friendly, flawless. A product of the entertainment industry, polished until the seams barely showed.

"ECLIPSE, standby at the stage stairs!"

Leon drew a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped onto the iron staircase leading down to the dark platform below. The hydraulic floor began to rise, carrying the three of them up into the blinding glare of dozens of spotlights. Leon's smile bloomed to perfection the instant his head emerged from beneath the stage—as if the smile had its own schedule to keep.

The fans' screams surged again, splitting the night sky. And Leon danced under that light the way he always did: as though the world had been made for no other purpose than to be his stage.

---

Across the same city, in the Grand Ballroom of a five-star hotel, a similar kind of light was at work—on a completely different frequency.

There were no screaming fans here. No electronic hum rattling anyone's chest. Only the fast, cold strains of classical instrumental music, the clink of crystal glasses from the VIP section, and the sharp clicking of dozens of high-end photographers' cameras.

Tonight was the peak of Jakarta Fashion Week. The fashion house VANTAGE was unveiling its latest autumn collection.

Backstage, in a runway zone as silent and disciplined as a military zone, Kaelen stood ramrod straight without moving a single muscle in his face.

Twenty-five years old. Six foot one, with proportions that looked custom-carved. A firm jaw, a straight nose with perfectly symmetrical angles, and a pair of pitch-black eyes—cold, sharp, as though surveying the world with profound boredom.

A young stylist trembled as he buttoned the sleeve of the asymmetrical black wool blazer Kaelen wore.

"Sorry, Mr. Kaelen... the pin got caught in the inner fold," he whispered, his voice shaking.

Kaelen didn't look down. His eyes stayed fixed on the large mirror in front of him. No outburst of irritation, no raised voice. Only the air around him, freezing instantly.

"Reyhan," he called, low, deep, toneless.

Reyhan—his manager and closest friend—moved in swiftly, giving the young stylist's shoulder a light pat and taking over. "I'll finish this. Go grab extra hairspray from table three." Once the intern had left, Reyhan leaned in close to Kaelen's ear. "Kael, ease up on the glare a little. That kid could faint just from you looking at him."

Kaelen exhaled shortly through his nose. "He wasn't focused. Thirty seconds to runway and he's still wrestling with a pin. If this outfit tears halfway down, it's my name and the designer's on the line—not his."

"Yeah, yeah, I know your standards are sky-high," Reyhan said breezily, straightening Kaelen's collar with precision. "But this is a fashion show, not open-heart surgery. There's a private dinner with Julian tonight. Remember?"

The name made Kaelen's thick brows knit slightly. "Julian's insufferable. Always going on about the Paris exhibition like I have nothing better to do than listen to his nonsense."

"But he's VANTAGE's Senior Fashion Director for Southeast Asia, my esteemed Kaelen," Reyhan whispered as a reminder. "One flick of his finger could extend your contract three years—or cancel it by tomorrow morning. So please, be a little sweet."

"I'm a professional model, Reyhan. I'm hired for how I walk and carry clothes, not for my ability to smile falsely across a dinner table."

"Next model, Kaelen! Standby at the main backdrop!"

Kaelen didn't answer Reyhan again. He adjusted his shoulders, lifted his chin to the exact angle he'd rehearsed in front of a mirror for the past seven years.

The moment the black curtain parted and his shoes met the white carpet, the entire room seemed pulled toward him. Camera flashes exploded in rapid succession from both sides, whiting out his vision for an instant. Kaelen didn't blink once. His stride was steady, cold, commanding—the movement of a grown man in total control of himself.

Critics in the front row nodded, satisfied. In the VIP corner, Julian—twenty-nine, dressed in black from head to toe—rested his chin on one hand, a faint smile playing on his lips as he watched Kaelen with an unconcealed look of ownership.

Kaelen stopped precisely at the end of the runway, held the pose for three seconds, threw his legendary sharp gaze at the main camera, then turned without leaving behind a shred of warmth.

To him, this world was a rigid workplace bound by rules. And he never intended to let anyone disturb the order he'd built through such hard-won effort.

---

Two hours later. One in the morning.

Part of the city had already gone quiet. But for those who worked under the glare of camera flashes, the day had only just begun.

An exclusive restaurant and bar in Senopati had been rented out privately for the Jakarta Fashion Week closing celebration, doubling as the launch of VANTAGE's collaboration with a local brand. Dim golden-yellow lighting, soft instrumental jazz drifting through the air.

Kaelen sat on a curved leather sofa in a corner of the room, somewhat shielded from the main crowd. A glass of cold mineral water sat in his hand—he'd turned down alcohol for the sake of his skin and physique ahead of a magazine shoot the next morning.

Beside him, Julian sat too close, his arm resting along the back of the sofa just behind Kaelen's shoulder—as if embracing him without quite doing so.

"Kael, you were extraordinary on the runway tonight," Julian said, his voice pitched as soft as possible, sipping his red wine. "Your walk always has a character younger models today just can't imitate. Classy."

Kaelen turned his glass slowly, his eyes fixed on the water's surface. "Thank you. Your team's wool has just the right weight, so it's easy to adjust my stride's tempo."

Julian chuckled softly. His fingers, adorned with a few silver rings, brushed the edge of Kaelen's blazer shoulder. "You're always so technical. Indulge my compliments for once, Kael. I've got a trip to Paris next month for Haute Couture Week. You should come. I've already booked the best room at Le Meurice—for the two of us."

An uncomfortable urge crept up the back of Kaelen's neck—a feeling he knew far too well by now, every time Julian tried to cross the professional line using the weight of his position. Before he could pull his shoulder away politely, the restaurant's entrance suddenly stirred with noise.

Several staff hurried to greet a new arrival. The heavy glass doors opened; a group of young men entered, flanked closely by two bodyguards.

"Well, look who's here—the ECLIPSE kids," Reyhan murmured, having just returned from the bar with his own drink, taking a seat across from Kaelen. "Their concert at the stadium only wrapped at eleven, they said. Their agency's insane, dragging them to a sponsor after-party on top of that."

Kaelen lifted his gaze slightly, merely curious about the small commotion at the entrance.

There, beneath the crystal chandelier, stood three ECLIPSE members. But his eyes, without being asked to, dropped straight to the figure standing in the middle.

Leon.

His stage costume had already been swapped for high-style casual wear: an oversized cream silk shirt with the top two buttons open, black trousers, a layered silver necklace. His hair, still slightly damp from the remains of his stage styling, was combed carelessly back, revealing his forehead and firm brows.

Leon laughed together with Mika and a fashion executive. His smile was wide, his eyes crinkled warmly, his body bowing repeatedly with a politeness that seemed entirely natural—like breathing, not like rehearsal. He pulled the attention of the entire room within seconds.

"Just an idol kid coasting on a pretty face," Julian muttered scornfully, noticing the direction of Kaelen's gaze. He took another sip of his wine, leaning back lazily. "The industry's strange these days. Kids like that get handed expensive clothes and paraded in the front row of fashion shows, as if they know the first thing about the art of dressing."

Kaelen didn't respond. But privately, some part of him quietly agreed with Julian's words. Someone like Leon was exactly the type he avoided most in this industry: someone who looked too perfect on camera, smiled sweetly at everyone, a life entirely scripted by an agency.

Kaelen was about to shift his gaze back to his glass. But at that exact second, Leon turned—right toward the sofa where Kaelen and Julian sat.

Their eyes collided in midair.

Two seconds. Long enough for something to change.

The sweet, warm smile on Leon's face vanished without a trace. His dark brown eyes turned cold, sharp, full of probing judgment—no trace left of the friendly young man who, seconds ago, had been bowing politely to a fashion brand executive.

Leon's gaze took in the position of Julian's arm, still resting behind Kaelen's shoulder. Then his eyes lifted, straight to Kaelen's. There was a flash of challenge in them—clear, entirely undisguised.

So this is your real face when there's no camera around

? Kaelen thought.

Rather than feel intimidated, Kaelen met that gaze with one colder, more dismissive. He didn't look away, letting the high-voltage current flow between them, drowned beneath the clink of glasses and the laughter of other guests.

Leon carved a thin smile at the corner of his mouth—not the idol smile that usually appeared on television, but a crooked smirk full of the arrogance of a young man far too confident in himself. He raised his carbonated drink slightly toward Kaelen, a kind of long-distance toast, then turned his back, resuming his conversation with the executives as if nothing had happened.

Kaelen's jaw hardened. His fingers tightened around his cold water glass until his knuckles went white.

"Kael? Are you listening to me?" Julian's voice broke his concentration.

Kaelen exhaled softly, setting his glass down on the table with a somewhat sharp clink. "I hear you, Julian. But I'm tired tonight. Reyhan, get the car ready. We're leaving now."

Reyhan, mid-bite on a snack, choked in surprise. "Huh? Now? But the main event's just—"

"Now, Reyhan." Kaelen was already on his feet before the sentence finished. He paid no mind to Julian's bewildered stare, or the other guests startled to see the top model leave so abruptly.

On his way to the exit, Kaelen deliberately passed close to where Leon stood. When the distance between them dropped under a meter, Kaelen didn't turn his head even once. But he could feel it with absolute clarity—Leon's gaze following every step he took, all the way until the restaurant's glass door closed behind him

---

The next morning, nine o'clock.

Jakarta's sun scorched the office windows of the Sudirman district. In the main conference room of Starlight Entertainment—one of the country's largest talent agencies—the atmosphere was cold and formal as usual.

Kaelen sat at one side of the long mahogany table, wearing a dark gray casual shirt and neatly tailored trousers, arms crossed, his expression calm. Beside him, Reyhan was busy scanning through a thick stack of scripts.

"This is a very good opportunity, Kaelen," said Mr. Broto, his managing director, tapping a pen against the table. "A regional streaming platform just approved the budget for an eight-episode romantic Web Drama. They want a strong title with major visual impact in the Southeast Asian market."

Kaelen exhaled softly. "Mr. Broto, you know my main focus is high fashion and the international stage. I've taken a few acting roles before, but only in heavy drama feature films. Why a romantic web drama, suddenly?"

"Because market trends are shifting," Mr. Broto cut in quickly. "The fashion world is great for your exclusive image, but this web drama will give you access to a far wider audience. Besides, the script is written by an award-winning writer. Your character is a young, cold, perfectionist Art Director—a perfect match for your everyday personality."

Kaelen fell silent for a moment, considering. There was truth to it; a cold, perfectionist character wouldn't be hard to play.

"Who's my co-star?" he finally asked. "If this is a romance drama, I hope the agency picked an experienced senior actor, so the storyline doesn't feel shallow."

Mr. Broto broke into a wide smile—a smile that, for some reason, made Kaelen's stomach turn uneasy.

"About that, you don't need to worry. We've already secured the biggest name in the music industry right now as your leading co-star. Once it's announced, your chemistry is guaranteed to set social media on fire."

Before Kaelen could ask further, the conference room door swung open suddenly.

"Sorry we're a bit late! Traffic out front was jammed because of a small demonstration," came the voice of a middle-aged man—ECLIPSE's manager—from behind the door.

Kaelen turned reflexively.

A young man with a well-built frame stepped in wearing a casual style: loose jeans, a plain white t-shirt layered under a denim jacket, a bright smile spread across his handsome face.

Leon.

"Good morning, everyone. Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, polite and friendly, bowing ninety degrees to Mr. Broto and the agency staff.

But the moment he straightened up and his eyes caught sight of Kaelen at the corner of the table, that friendly smile slowly shifted into a thin, meaningful smirk.

"Ah," he murmured softly—clear enough for the whole room to hear. "So the 'Senior Model' my manager mentioned... is

you,

Kaelen?"

Heat surged suddenly through Kaelen's blood. There was nothing respectful in the way Leon said his name—it landed instead as a subtle jab, spotlighting the gap in their ages.

Beside him, Reyhan quietly smacked his own forehead, whispering under his breath, "Oh no... I'm dead."

"There you are, Leon! Please, take a seat!" Mr. Broto chimed in eagerly, entirely oblivious to the tension now filling the room. "Wonderful that you two already know each other. As I mentioned, this romantic web drama project is titled

Under the Flashlight

. A story about a rivalry that turns into sweet romance between two young professionals in the entertainment world."

Mr. Broto clapped his hands once. "Leon will play the role of an energetic, dominant popular idol. Kaelen will play his cold, hard-to-approach senior. Since this genre centers on strong romantic chemistry, you'll have a great many intense physical scenes together—including intimate moments and kisses from the midpoint through to the finale."

Intimate scenes and kisses?

Kaelen's hand clenched under the table. His usually calm face hardened like stone. He shot Mr. Broto a brief glance, then turned his sharp gaze toward Leon.

Leon, now seated directly across from him, propped his chin on one hand. He met Kaelen's stare without a shred of fear. His dark brown eyes gleamed with unmistakable mischief and dominance.

Slowly, without a sound—so the managers in the room wouldn't notice—Leon's lips moved, shaping words directed at Kaelen:

Please look after me... Senior.

Kaelen leaned back against his chair, crossed his legs, and stared at Leon with the coldest look he'd ever worn in his entire life.

The young man across from him might be the darling idol adored by the public. But Kaelen swore to himself: if Leon thought he could play games on Kaelen's own turf, this kid had just made the biggest mistake of his career.

Under the bright fluorescent glare of the conference room, a cold war between two worlds had just officially begun.