Page 75 of Forge the Blade

Rei forced his hand to steady. Maybe he could finish Yoihei’s look and escape before he was trapped in the room with Jun. If anyone was going to recognize him, it would be Jun. They had been the closest. He finished, taking a few extra moments to make sure he hadn’t rushed, and let Yoihei judge the final work for himself.

Yoihei gave him a thumbs up. Rei put his brushes down and closed up his cases. But now that he could run, the question was where. He turned towards Ellisandre. Jun was just coming into the room. He leaned against the door frame, watching as Ellisandre put the last touches on the matte finish of Jaewoong’s lips.

“Damian’s going over costumes in the kitchen,” Jun said to Jaewoong.

“We’re just wearing our work clothes.” Jaewoong shrugged.

“Artistically wearing our work clothes,” Jun countered.

Jaewoong grinned and jumped up. “Fine. Fine. I’ll go wear some cargo pants artistically. We’ve worn everything at some point.”

Jun smirked. “Hey, at least this time we chose it.”

Jaewoong raised his hand in a high five. Jun met him with a resounding smack. Then he slapped Jaewoong’s rear. “Go get dressed. Or finish getting dressed.” He leveraged himself out of the door frame and dropped down onto the seat in front of Ellisandre. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Happy to,” Ellisandre said.

Rei backed away to the wall and wrapped his arms around himself. It was cold enough that he could pass it off as something other than nerves. All he had to do was get through . . . the whole day of shooting.

And not say something messy like telling Jun that leadership looked good on him. That he’d stepped into the weight of the role that was supposed to have been Rei’s and it showed, but he looked . . . natural.

Rei stared at Jun’s face, memorizing every line all over again. The bruises from the kidnapping were all gone now. Even the stitches under his eye were nearly invisible. He’d survived. Gratitude welled up inside Rei’s chest. Sevastyan might have expressed regret, but Rei could never wish that anyone other than Sevastyan had been called in to untangle the mess in South Korea that day Jun had killed his would-be rapist and put this whole thing in motion.

Rei

Jun and the rest of 5N filmed the dance choreography in the front room of the house, breaking off for individual takes in some of the hallways and a few on the front porch. Rei kept his kit close and touched up makeup now and then as needed. But he avoided Jun, letting Ellisandre handle anything with him. Watching them dance kept putting a lump in Rei’s throat. Jun, Yoihei, Geun, Jaewoong, and Su-jin were good. Better than good. They were internationally acclaimed idols, and even working on a next-to-nothing budget and a cobbled together crew, it showed. Their new PR person slash manager was a slight Korean woman with flawless English who showed up late to the filming because she’d been on calls doing the other part of her job. Warmth filled Rei’s chest watching her coordinate with Jun and check in with Richard. She was gentle. Jun was the boss. There was no hitting, no slapping, no harangues. No threats. Just a team.

Rei found a corner to sit in and wrapped his arms around his knees, watching. Something in his chest untangled and blossomed. And when Damian leaned over and kissed Jun full on the mouth in passing, Rei had to blink back tears.

He could stay in the shadows forever, as long as this existed.

The last set of taping was in the sanctuary of the church. They were using the dais and altar for visual impact with the choreography formation working around the physical space. Time was against them. There were specific shots the group wanted to get as the sun went down from the balcony and the doorway-like area in the wall behind the altar some kept referring to as the baptismal.

Rei fixed Su-jin’s makeup twice. They’d selectively dirtied themselves up for this set of shots, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t still updating eyes and lips and making sure the dirt remained artistically smeared.

Rei grinned behind his mask as 5N took their places ready for the camera to roll one last time. It was a hard hitting choreo. Richard had gone downstairs with security twice to check the supports in the basement under the altar, even though Ellisandre said an engineer had cleared the space for filming. They were moving fast and strong, slamming kinetic energy down into the floor with their feet and up into their air with kicks, displaying an impressive amount of martial arts in their choreography, significantly more than Rei had seen them use before. This was what 5N could be on their own, without Bak Gyeong breathing down their necks. Even as tired as everyone was from more than ten hours of work, they were still bringing the energy and high-fiving each other and everyone around them after each successful finish.

Rei had long since memorized the repeated choreography. He could feel it in his body. The words were set in his head as if he’d written them in titanium. They were the angriest, fiercest lyrics 5N had produced, but not the darkest.

Rei hugged himself, remembering scraps of paper passed between himself and Junseo in their dormitory as young teens. Songs they’d written knowing they’d never be approved. Perhaps Jun still had some of them, or perhaps they’d been destroyed after 5N escaped. What was certain was that Jun, Yoihei, Jaewoong, Geun, and Su-jin were enjoying shedding their clean boy-band energy. Despite the cold, they were shifting between fully covered takes and versions with less clothes, open vests, torn T-shirts, and unbottoned coats without a shirt. Damian and Ellisandre were handling the costume changes, sometimes leaving Rei to do most of the makeup. Alice was supposed to be doing makeup, but she’d mostly been moved to lights alongside Ash to help Émeric.

“Damn, I love and hate this setup. Nobody better get hurt.”

Rei turned his head. 5N’s choreographer, Gigi, a short woman with kinky hair, had stopped to stand beside him, her eyes fixed on the dais.

“Ready?” Gigi called out.

“Ready,” Jun answered. The sounds of the song track filled the space. They finished with the group section. Everyone except for Jun faded back. Jun collected himself, communicating with their PR person. Her name, Rei had finally learned, was Mi Hi. The song track started to play again. Jun had practiced this section earlier several times. Rei knew exactly what the choreography was supposed to be. They were going for one take.

Jun’s body moved to the music as he knelt in the center of the altar. His hand came up, tearing away the front of his pre-ripped shirt, head falling back as he belted out the lyrics, slender abs rippling under the lights. They wouldn’t use the sound recording from this take, that was done in a studio, but lip movements needed to match the words and Jun sang like he was performing on stage anyway. He lifted an open wine bottle high, a dark red vintage, poured it over his head and shoulders, then threw it to the side. It shattered beyond the dais as Jun flung himself forward in a tense pose, body held up on his palms and the balls of his feet. He stared at the front camera, lowering himself into a pushup, shaking with the strain of the emotion and belting out the lyrics as he went down. “All the world’s stage against my throat.”

As he reached the lowest part, his hand slipped in the wine. He fell over the front of the altar, his body tucking into a roll as he tumbled. He crashed down to the strewn rubble, his back to the altar, his legs spread out on the floor. His chest rose and fell. No one spoke, and slowly, he raised his palm to his face, pushing his wine-soaked hair away from his eyes. Blood smeared across his cheek. And like the professional he was, he never took his eyes off the camera.

Then he took a breath, breaking the moment, and pushed himself up. “Cut.”

Rei gulped in a breath. Damian rushed forward, grabbing Jun’s injured hand.

Jun looked down at it. “Fuck, do we have to do that again?”