When Kim Sok-joo closed the Instagram app, his hands were still shaking.
The hoodie.
It was the same hoodie.
The stranger from the café, the one who had listened to him like he was just another tired person in the world, wasn't a stranger at all.
He was Charlie, the leader of Rider.
Sok-joo sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the glowing screen as the likes continued to climb under the photo. Thousands of comments appeared every second.
King Charlie.
Our leader looks amazing.
Rider forever.
Sok-joo's heart beat unevenly in his chest.
He had spoken to him.
Not as a fan.
Not as someone begging for attention.
Just as two strangers sharing a conversation.
A small laugh escaped him.
"At least I didn't embarrass myself," he murmured.
For the first time in a long time, Sok-joo slept without fear.
The next morning, however, the fear returned.
He stood in front of his mirror adjusting his collar.
One shirt.
Then another.
Then a jacket.
Nothing felt right.
Finally he sighed and pulled out the same suit he had worn during his interview.
His lucky suit.
It wasn't impressive, but it made him feel steady.
Sok-joo studied his reflection carefully.
"Today you're a manager," he told himself quietly.
"Not a fan."
Not the lonely boy who once skipped school just to catch a glimpse of Rider passing by.
Just a manager.
The moment he stepped inside Rider Entertainment, the confidence disappeared.
The hallway suddenly felt too bright.
Too open.
Too exposed.
What if he remembers me?
What if he tells someone?
What if the company thinks I approached him on purpose?
His hands started sweating.
He lowered his head and walked quickly down the hallway, pretending to read the schedule in his hands.
Just another employee.
Just another manager.
Then he heard a voice behind him.
"You."
Sok-joo froze.
Slowly, he turned around.
Charlie was standing a few steps away.
Even without stage lights or cameras, the leader of Rider had a presence that made the air around him feel different.
"I know you," Charlie said.
Sok-joo felt his stomach drop.
"You're the one I met at the café."
Before anyone walking past could notice them, Sok-joo stepped forward and gently guided Charlie toward a quieter corner of the hallway.
"Please," Sok-joo said quickly.
Charlie blinked in surprise.
"Please don't tell anyone we met before."
His voice trembled despite his effort to stay calm.
"I just started this job," he continued. "If people think I approached you as a fan… I could lose everything."
Charlie watched him carefully for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"You don't need to worry," he said.
"I won't say anything."
Relief rushed through Sok-joo so quickly that his knees almost gave out.
"Thank you," he said, bowing instinctively.
Charlie simply gave a small nod before walking away.
Sok-joo remained in the hallway for a few seconds longer, breathing slowly until his heartbeat returned to normal.
Later that morning, Sok-joo entered the training room where the members of Rider were gathered.
The music stopped as soon as he walked inside.
Several pairs of eyes turned toward him.
Sok-joo forced himself to stand straight.
"My name is Kim Sok-joo," he said politely.
"I'll be your manager from now on."
Silence filled the room.
One of the members leaned back against the wall.
"Another manager?" he muttered.
Another crossed his arms.
"We don't need one."
Sok-joo hesitated.
"I'm just here to—"
"To replace him?" another member interrupted.
Sok-joo blinked.
"The last manager," the member continued, "actually cared about us."
The tension in the room grew heavier.
Sok-joo suddenly realized something no one had explained during his interview.
He hadn't just been hired.
He had been placed in the middle of a conflict.
The previous manager had protected the group.
But the company wanted more control.
And Sok-joo was now standing between both sides.
"You don't even know us," one of the members said coldly.
The words hit harder than Sok-joo expected.
These were the people whose music had helped him survive his darkest nights.
And now they were looking at him like he didn't belong there.
Eventually the director asked Sok-joo to wait in the lobby while the company spoke privately with the group.
So he sat alone in the quiet reception area.
Voices echoed faintly from the meeting room down the hallway.
Managers.
Lawyers.
Arguments.
Sok-joo stared at the floor.
He felt like the same boy he had been years ago.
Small.
Helpless.
Unwanted.
Maybe people are right, he thought.
Maybe fans should never meet their idols.
Because when they do…
the dream rarely survives.
Sok-joo eventually left the building and walked into a small café nearby.
He sat at a table in the corner.
For a long time he simply stared at the table in front of him.
Then the tears came.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just quiet tears that slipped down his face.
The barista approached carefully.
"Rough day?"
Sok-joo wiped his eyes quickly.
"I'll have an iced Americano," he said softly.
The drink arrived a moment later.
Families talked around him.
Friends laughed.
The world continued moving as if nothing had happened.
After a moment the barista returned again.
"You sure you're okay?"
Sok-joo hesitated.
Then he shook his head.
"I thought I could do this job," he admitted quietly.
"But the people I work with don't want me there."
The barista shrugged lightly.
"That happens."
Sok-joo looked up.
"You just show up tomorrow anyway," the barista said.
"That's how most jobs work."
The simple answer surprised him.
"Don't put people too high above you," the barista added.
"They're just people."
Sok-joo stared down at his coffee.
Maybe he had been putting Rider too high in his heart all along.
Later that evening, Sok-joo returned to the company building.
The director stood near the entrance waiting.
"You left earlier," the director said.
"I needed some air," Sok-joo replied.
The director studied him for a moment.
"What was your name again?"
"Kim Sok-joo."
The director nodded slowly.
"Then remember it."
"You're Kim Sok-joo… Rider's manager."
For the first time that day, Sok-joo took a deep breath.
"Okay," he said quietly.
"Okay."
But deep inside, a strange feeling remained.
Something had already started changing in his life.
And he had the uneasy sense that this was only the beginning.