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“It was Park Hana,” I blurted, suddenly realising that may be the most important thing.

Youngsoo nearly slid off his seat, while Jihoon inhaled sharply.

“I thought I saw her,” he snarled, “when I saw you leaving the crowd. I recognised her. I thought I imagined it.”

“What did she do?” Youngsoo asked, staring at me intently.

“I think she called my name. That’s why I went over there. Someone called my name. I thought it must have been one of the staff. Maybe someone on the media team.”

“You’re certain it was her?” he asked intently.

“Yes. She closed the door once I was in the car.”

“Ssibal,” Jihoon bit out.

The van fell quiet.

I kept talking, because it felt like if I stopped, it would be harder to say it later. As if the story was a muscle I needed to keep warm, or it would get stiff in my mind.

“There was another woman in the passenger seat. She had a camera and she kept it on me the whole time. She kept asking me questions.”

“What questions?” Youngsoo asked quickly.

“I couldn’t understand most of them,” I admitted, running my fingers over Jihoon’s. “I could only make out the gist of what she was asking.”

“Which was?” he prompted.

“I think she was asking if I was Jihoon’s girlfriend.” I grimaced, biting my lip as I looked away. Heat rushed up my neck, even as I tried to tell myself that I had no reason to feel this way.

No one spoke for a moment, and the quiet made me want to fill it with explanations, or useless chatter. I had to force myself to take a breath instead of word vomiting. Jihoon’s fingers tightened around mine, and the urge to lean into him was only overpowered by the knowledge that we were not alone. Even if every person in the van was aware of our past.

“Kaiya,” Youngsoo said eventually, fixing me with such a firm expression that I held my breath. “Post nothing. Do not answer your phone. Do not tell anyone what happened. We don’t know if anyone saw anything, or identified you or Jihoon in all the chaos.”

I nodded wordlessly. It hadn’t occurred to me to do any of that, so agreeing was easy.

“That goes for everyone,” he said, raising his voice. “No airport posts, pictures or comments on any platform. No public acknowledgements of any kind until we have handled this with the police. All anyone needs to know is that GVibes has entered the country and is looking forward to performing in a few days.”

The other members nodded, and Youngsoo sat back down, already on his phone again.

When we got to the hotel, the group was immediately whisked away, leaving me with the hollow feeling of being somehow contaminated. Jihoon had protested. Outright demanded, in fact, to be allowed to stay with me, but Youngsoo and the other managers hadn’t given him an option. It had gotten heated, and Minjae had needed to intervene.

I watched them go with mounting trepidation, but I had to trust there was a right way to do this, and so I did not protest when one of the travel coordinators walked me through the hotel to a meeting room.

“We’re doing this here,” he explained, “so you can meet the lawyer, and we can control the situation. Everything has been arranged by the company.” he said briskly, as though international legal issues were part and parcel of his job. Then again, they probably were.

The police were already waiting, as was an English-speaking French lawyer who had – as he explained before we sat down with the officers – been contacted by the travel coordinator and retained by ENT. I was amazed by the speed with which this had been arranged. It had taken just under an hour for us to drive from Charles de Gaulle airport to the hotel. Plenty of time, apparently.

The lawyer – Olivier Lallouche, he’d introduced himself as – asked me to explain in detail what had occurred this morning at the airport. When I got to the part about Hana, I faltered.

“Everything you tell me is in strict confidence,” he assured me, peering over the rim of his glasses. “You need to tell me everything that might be relevant.”

So, I told him. I’d told him about my relationship with Jihoon, and how I’d come to believe Hana had known about it. I told him about the blackmail that had led to our breakup.

“Can this be verified?” he interrupted, narrowing his eyes.

I squirmed in my seat, remembering the details Jihoon had told me last year in LA.

“I don’t know,” I said hesitantly. “I don’t think so. I think it was all verbal threats.”