When she reached home, her parents were waiting. Her father smiled proudly; her mother hugged her tight. It felt like the start of something new — and somehow, something she had
And *Poof* Ten days later, she landed in Country C. The evening sky was turning purple as the city lights came alive. Outside the airport, city lights were just starting to glow. Digital billboards flashed familiar faces — including his.
For a moment, she stopped, luggage by her side, just taking it all in.
She was finally here — in his city. Her apartment overlooked the a beautiful River, and that night, as she unpacked, she smiled at her reflection.
The next morning, she began her first day at Aurora Entertainment's Country C branch. Her division — Global Artist Partnerships — handled collaborations between international and C country's artists. Still, her heart never forgot its rhythm.
Weekdays were for work.
Weekends were for him.
Every Saturday, she joined the sea of fans outside Lyra Entertainment, Easton's agency. She held lightsticks, banners. She waited for hours, sometimes all day, just to catch a glimpse. But weeks turned into months, and he never appeared. Yet, she didn't stop.
She couldn't.
This was the dream she had crossed oceans for. On one of those evenings, as autumn winds began to cool the streets of city S, she sat with a cup of coffee across the street from Lyra's building. Her phone buzzed — a message from her manager:
"We have to meet this new client to join our next collaboration project. Big Company, you'll be part of the core team. Details soon."
She didn't think much of it and typed back a short reply
But a few days later, when the project list reached her inbox, one line made her heart stop.
From: Manager Rina
Subject: New Project Collaboration – Lyra Entertainment
Her fingers froze over the keyboard. Lyra Entertainment?
For a moment, she just stared at the name — the same Lyra Entertainment that her Easton had debuted from. The same logo that appeared in the corner of every music video she had watched on repeat for years.
Heart suddenly racing, she clicked the email open.
"Aurora has been selected to assist Lyra Entertainment with the debut of their new artist, Sean. You'll be part of the coordination team. Prepare a preliminary project proposal by next week." That night, she stayed back after everyone left, typing away at her desk, her mind racing with ideas for Sean's debut proposal — branding, rollout, concept stages. Her screen glowed softly in the dim office
Easton's POV
Across the city, on the twelfth floor of a glass building lit with gold, Easton was sitting in front of a studio monitor, half-listening as his producer adjusted the mix.
It was late — the kind of late where the world outside quieted down, leaving only the hum of machines and the faint sound of rain against the window.
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his neck. He'd been at it since morning — rehearsals, interviews, now recordings. The spotlight had long since stopped feeling warm; it was more like standing too close to a fire — it lit you up but burned if you lingered too long. "Let's take a five," the producer muttered.
Easton nodded, removing his headphones. He rubbed his eyes, picked up his phone, and scrolled aimlessly through notifications — fan edits, tagged clips from today's interview, a dozen comments calling him "perfect."
He smiled — a small, tired smile. Easton's world had always been big — too big, maybe.
His father was the kind of man whose voice filled boardrooms before he even entered them — a name people recognized before a face. His mother, a renowned architect, had her name printed on glossy magazines and awards. Easton grew up surrounded by everything most people dreamed of — a big house, rich parents, luxury cars, and staff who made sure nothing was ever out of place.
But what he didn't have was presence — his parents were hardly around.
His father spent more time traveling for deals than at home. His mother was always lost in projects and client calls.
So, even though the house was filled with people — nannies, cooks, drivers — it always felt empty.
As a kid, Easton used to wait at the dining table for them to return from work. Sometimes, he'd even pretend to be sick, just so they would stay home.
But they rarely did.
That night, when his fever really did rise — 108 degrees, the doctor said — she was still in Country A.(refering to his mom)
He stopped pretending after that.
By high school, he'd learned how to fill the silence — with friends, laughter, and small lies about how "busy" his parents were. He was popular without even trying, and for a while, it felt enough.
Then came her. In 11th grade, he fell for a girl. She was cheerful, a little dramatic, and obsessed with K-pop idols. She talked about them all the time — their songs, their smiles, their perfect lives.
He didn't get what was so special about those people, but the way she spoke about them — with that spark in her eyes — made him curious. He wanted that smile — directed at him.
He wanted to be the reason someone looked at a stage and felt something.
Maybe that's why, when a small entertainment agency — Lyra Entertainment noticed him at a school event — his looks, his natural charm — and offered him a chance to train as an idol, he didn't think twice.
World laughed louder now.
Cameras flash. Billboards glow.
Everywhere you look — it's him. But inside, he still feels like an empty shell.
Now he's sitting alone in his music room — the only place that still feels his.
He runs his fingers over the piano keys and starts to play a melody — the same one he used to listen to as a kid. He puts on his headphones, lost in that sound.
Within minutes, he starts scribbling something — notes for his new album. And that's when the door bursts open.
His manager steps in, half-laughing, half-furious.
"Where were you? I've been looking for you for three days!"
Easton doesn't answer. He keeps staring at his notebook.
"You've come back to the company! Why do you always do this?" the manager yells.
Still nothing. Just silence and the quiet rhythm of his pencil tapping the page.
The manager finally loses it — shakes him by the shoulders.
"What's your deal? Huh? Rumors everywhere, people saying you're dating her! Cesla— that rookie singer everyone's talking about!"
Easton finally looks up.
"I don't know. It's just a rumor. Don't pay attention."
"It might not be a problem for you," the manager snaps, "but it's a big problem for me! The media's chasing me. Your parents are calling nonstop — they say you won't pick up their calls! I'm done, man. Why don't you just talk to them?"
Easton stands up slowly.
"I don't want to talk about this again."
The manager sighs, rubbing his temples. "What's so wrong about going on a few blind dates? Your mother just wants—"
"I don't want a business marriage!" Easton cuts him off. His voice sharp, tired.
"I won't ever be a deal they can sign.
They treat me like I'm some investment — when it's profitable, they show me off; when it's not, they throw me aside.
And now, what? They want to marry me off for image? No."
The room goes quiet.
The manager's frustrated. Easton exhausted. Then he whispers "I'm leaving, you annoy me."
"You're not leaving until I say so," the manager warns, blocking the way.
Easton smirks. "Look behind you."
The manager chuckles. "I'm not falling for that again. It's the hundredth time this week."
"No, seriously," he says, pointing. "It's right there."
The manager hesitates — just for a second — and turns.
Smack!
Easton taps his head lightly, laughs, and bolts out of the room.
The manager spins around, groaning.
"Every time!"
By the time he reaches the hallway, Easton's already gone — running through the company corridors, slipping into the streets, disappearing into the city lights.
No one knows where he's headed.
Maybe not even him.
The night air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked streets as Selene and her manager Cera approached the dimly lit bar. The neon sign flickered intermittently, casting an eerie glow on the pavement. It was nearly 9 PM—late for a business meeting, especially with an idol.
Inside, the atmosphere was dense with the hum of low conversations and clinking glasses. They were ushered through a velvet rope into a private VIP room, where Sean sat at the far end of a sprawling leather sofa, his posture rigid, eyes fixed on an indeterminate point ahead. His manager occupied the center, exuding an air of practiced cordiality.
"Ah, finally," the manager said, voice smooth, with the faintest trace of a smirk. "I was beginning to think you'd get lost on the way." Cera nodded politely. "Thank you for meeting us. We appreciate it."
The manager gave a subtle shrug, as if humoring them. "Of course, of course. It's always interesting to see how newcomers approach things. Ambition is… admirable, though sometimes, charmingly naive." Selene felt a little edge of irritation, "Drinks?" he continued, tilting a glass of whiskey in one hand. "Water? Coffee? Something stronger?"
Selene shook her head. "Water, thank you."
Sean's manager nodded.
He poured himself a sip, then leaned back, smirking slightly. "Now, the proposal. I'll be honest — it's cute. Ambitious. But ambitious in a very… beginner's way."
Selene cleared her throat. "We tried to balance impact with feasibility."
He gave a slight, indulgent smile. "I see. And it's adorable that you think it's balanced. Really. Three live performances in the first week, viral fan campaigns across every platform… in a perfect world, yes. But here? Reality tends to be a little… more constrained."
Cera tried to negotiate. "We can adjust priorities and timelines to make it manageable." The manager leaned back, a slow, measured smile on his face. "Ah, yes, the perennial charm of your kind — trying to mold reality to your plans. Cute, really. But let me assure you, in our world, manageable isn't always enough. That's why people like me exist — to make the impossible happen."
Sean, who had remained silent until now, finally let out a soft sigh. "It's too stuffy in here," he muttered. "Let's head back."
The manager glanced at Selene and Cera, a hint of amusement in his smirk. "Of course. We'll talk when you're ready for our arrangement." They left immediately.
Once the VIP room door closed behind Sean and his manager, Cera exhaled heavily. "This is all because of your project. If it had been more polished, maybe they'd have taken it seriously."
Selene crossed her arms. "It was reasonable. We balanced everything. They're just… being unrealistic."
Cera ran a hand through his hair. "Reasonable or not, we need this. I don't know how else to get it through. You're going to have to push harder."
Selene nodded, feeling a tight knot of frustration in her stomach. She spent the next two weeks practically living outside Lyra Entertainment. Every day, she waited near the building, hoping for a chance encounter with Sean.
Most days, she saw him only fleetingly — a figure in a black hoodie walking past, shielded by his manager.
Evenings were the hardest. After long hours of work on her project, she would wander the streets nearby, sometimes just sitting on a curb, staring at the neon signs, replaying the day's events. Every time the manager's voice echoed in her head — "We'll talk when you're ready for our arrangement" — it felt like a challenge she hadn't yet met.
By the end of the second week, it was late Saturday night. Exhausted and disheartened, Selene decided to return home one evening around 10 PM. Realizing there were no cabs available, she opted to walk to the bus station. As she navigated the darkened streets, a sudden downpour caught her off guard. She quickened her pace, seeking refuge at the nearest bus stop.
Just as she neared the shelter, a blinding flash of headlights illuminated her surroundings. Before she could react, the screech of tires filled the air, followed by a sharp impact. Her body was thrown to the ground, and everything went black.
In the fleeting moments before losing consciousness, she heard a voice—familiar, Then, she lost consciousness`.