Chapter 1: Kpop Idol Meet
It was a fake date.
I kept reminding myself of that as I stood in line outside the stadium, holding two tickets and questioning every life choice that had brought me here. The girl I was supposedly dating—my coworker, Yoon Chae won—was nowhere beside me. She was hopping between stalls like a child let loose in a carnival.
Cat ears. Light sticks. Banners. Merchandise from a group I didn’t even listen to.
Chaewon looked… happy. Genuinely so.
Not because she was on a date with me—let’s not flatter myself—but because she was here for a fan meet. For a male K-pop idol group. Of all things.
She could have chosen a café. A movie. A quiet dinner. Something age-appropriate. Instead, she had dragged me here. Alone. Without her girlfriends.
I sighed and shifted my weight just as she came running back.
She was wearing cat ears.
“…Ptft.”
“In-su ya~!” she chirped.
“I’d told you not to call me that,” I said flatly. My gaze flicked to the ears. “And you look ridiculous.”
She gasped, offended but smiling. “But we’re on a date. Couples do matching merch.”
“A fake date,” I corrected. “So our parents stop worrying about marriage. And we’re too old for this.”
“Loosen up, will you?”
I rubbed my temple. “Fine. Nicknames are worse than this, so… sure.”
Her eyes lit up. Dangerous.
“Great! Now wear this.”
She thrust another pair of ears toward me.
“I said it’s okay for you,” I snapped. “That doesn’t mean I’m wearing it.”
“But it’ll look cute.”
“And that’s exactly why I won’t.”
Behind us, a group of girls giggled.
Chaewon turned, hands on her hips. “Any problem?”
One of them grinned. “Nothing. You’re shippable—even if it’s a fake date.”
I exhaled sharply. “Mind your business. And maybe focus on the idols you came to see?”
Another girl laughed. “Such a tsundere.”
Chaewon coughed awkwardly. “H-haha… come on, In-su. It’s our turn.”
Finally.
We passed through ticket checks, security scans, and more lines than necessary. By the time we were inside, the noise hit like a physical force.
“It’s crowded,” she said, gripping my arm.
“Do we really have to be here?” I muttered. “Look at my eye bags. My self-esteem is about to die after seeing pretty male idols.”
She burst out laughing and hooked her arm fully into mine. “You idiot. Eye bags are hot these days. You’ll marry someday—don’t worry.”
I sighed. Deeply.
“Life isn’t as easy as your art edits and web comics.”
“Believe me,” she said lightly, “it is easy. Oh—there. Our seats.”
Third row. Right side. Too close.
“…Good seats,” I admitted.
“I was locked in while buying them,” she beamed.
“If only you were this focused at work,” I said. “You’re in digital forensics. Three years already. Shouldn’t you be an analyst by now?”
She pouted. “Don’t ruin my mood.”
“I was saying this as your close friend.”
“Best friend,” she corrected immediately.
“You are twenty-three. I am thirty. How can I call you my best friend? Hang out with people your age.”
“Age doesn't matter in friendships,” she snapped. “Why are you always so rigid?”
Before I could reply, the lights dimmed.
The announcer stepped on stage.
And then—
Five men walked out.
The screaming was instant. Deafening.
“Hey, we are Angel5!” they shouted in unison, hands forming finger hearts with a playful gun gesture on top of it, symbolizing a shooting finger heart.
So this was Angel5.
A rookie group. Six months old. I’d done my homework—mostly out of boredom at work. Their concept wasn’t exactly angelic. Angels in disguise. Mythological creatures layered with the word angelic for branding.
The youngest member had chosen the group name, apparently.
They were… well-dressed. Suits. Clean silhouettes. Minimal flash.
They looked like they belonged to a world I’d brushed against but never entered.
Introductions began.
“I’m Hong Ye-dam, leader of Angel5—twenty-four. Center position. Your angelic vampire!”
The crowd screamed. The members laughed.
Vampire. Angelic. Right.
I snorted quietly. “Cringe.”
“I can feel the judgment radiating off you,” Chaewon whispered. “Mr. Homicide Detective.”
“How else am I supposed to react?”
“You don’t understand how romantic this is.”
“They are famous for being older rookies,” I said. “They should act their age.”
“They do,” she argued. “They just… do cute stuff too. And they don’t dance—only vocals. Which is what they are more famous for.”
“…That explains the styling.”
Then—
I felt it.
A weight. A pull.
I looked up.
One of them was looking straight at me.
Hwang Haneul.
It lasted barely a second. But it was enough.
“I swear,” I murmured, “he looked at me.”
“Who?” Chaewon asked.
“…No one.”
She tilted her head, confused.
When I looked again, Haneul was facing his members, smiling softly, completely unbothered.
I told myself it meant nothing.
POV SHIFT — HWANG HANEUL
Row three. Left side.
That man wasn’t screaming.
He wasn’t smiling either.
Sharp eyes. Tired posture. A suit that fit too well for a fan.
For a second, our gazes met.
He looked like someone who didn’t belong here.
And somehow—
That made him impossible to ignore.
