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“If we acknowledge it,” he said plainly, as if this was well-trodden ground for him – which I couldn’t help remembering it was – “it will become a story. At the moment, it’s a rumour. No different from any other.”

I dragged a hand down my face, feeling the faint thump of the beginnings of a headache. I didn’t like this plan, but the tour would be finished in just over a month, and then… then we would handle this. Our way. Our timing.

“Okay,” I said eventually. “Then we do nothing.”

“I can always lift up Woojin’s shirt during the concert. That will give the Woojoon shippers something else to flood social media with,” he said in a serious tone, and I barked out a sharp laugh.

“Might as well give the people what they want,” I giggled.

Chapter 46

September 7th

Dubai

The final show in Dubai marked the unofficial end of the tour, but because people had avoided saying that part out loud, it hit harder after the concert finished and it couldn’t be denied anymore.

The performance had been an incredible wrap-up. The production team had prepared a drone show above the stadium that the members had known nothing about, and for several minutes, as the closing bars of Capella echoed in the air, the Auriga constellation on the big screens went dark and was reflected in the night sky instead, followed by hundreds of fireworks. It was triumphant.

It was also devastating.

The members had never been shy about showing their feelings from Vibers, and they didn’t try now to hide the tear tracks on their cheeks.

Yes, there were more shows in Busan and Seoul, but this was their final international performance. The finale to their victorious return to see Vibers all over the world, picking up on the tour that couldn’t happen four years ago while the world had stopped spinning for a while.

I watched from backstage, leaning against the tunnel wall and seeing from ground-level the same thing as thousands of other Vibers in that moment. A sea of pulsing colours from the lightsticks, and in the sky, the constellation of Auriga.

We stayed in Dubai for a week following the final performance, enjoying the city while GVibes filmed a music video for their next studio release – which was not public knowledge. News of their next project was strictly confidential. It was a reminder that even when one thing ended, another immediately took its place. The music industry was cyclical in that way. There was always something coming next.

The dating rumours persisted for a while. People on the crew looked at me sideways, but I ignored it, keeping to myself a little more than before. Instead of hanging out in the hotel, I went out and explored the city. I had a friend who had moved there after school, and I spent a few days with her and her family which helped remind me that a world existed outside of the tour. She knew nothing about GVibes or K-Pop. Her days were filled with taking care of a precocious toddler and running an online business. Normal stuff, and frankly it was a relief to exist in a universe where everything didn’t balance on a knife’s edge, and secrecy.

The week after the final concert, I received an email from Monsieur Lallouche. It wasn’t so much of a shock as it was an unpleasant reminder. I’d almost allowed myself to forget everything that had happened in Paris and the weeks after. Once the initial stages of the investigation had concluded, my input hadn’t been required. It had moved along in the background like a shadow following, but easy enough to ignore that I could pretend it wasn’t there.

The extradition request from the Korean Ministry of Justice was approved, and Hana was going to be taken back to Korea. Monsieur Lallouche had said he wasn’t certain if she was going to be in police custody, or be allowed to ‘remain at liberty’. Maybe it was petty, but I kind of hoped she’d have to stay in a jail cell, somewhere. The idea of both of us free to roam Seoul at the same time was not a comforting one.

I read the email several times. Monsieur Lallouche seemed to think it was likely she would be charged, given the overwhelming premeditation she had displayed to commit a crime, and at this stage, shoving me in a taxi under false pretences was the least of them. He was also going to hand the case over to a Korean lawyer on retainer with ENT, though he would still be managing the French side. I wouldn’t get any updates from the Korean lawyers, as her breach of the protection order did not affect me directly, and thus I was not on a need-to-know basis.

I would, however, continue to get updates on the French prosecution, which would continue for as long as the case was open. He did, however, warn me that France may choose not to pursue charges, pending the outcome of her case in Korea, and whether there was much of a point in seeking her return to France.

Monsieur Lallouche hadn’t been subtle that he didn’t think they’d bother.

If this does occur – which I believe is likely – it will not be due to any doubt that the events occurred as you reported them, it will simply be because the French prosecution sees no greater value in facilitating her return to France.

I thought about this as I read his email, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t kind of relieved. I had never wanted to be a part of this narrative with Hana. I’d never asked for any of it and had been pulled into whatever story she was self-inserting into. I wanted her to face the consequences of her actions, but past that, I didn’t want to be involved. I was more than happy for anything that happened to be something I would hear about second, or third hand from Jihoon, who would undoubtedly be informed, as it did involve him.

For my part? I wanted it to be over.

I called Becka almost immediately after reading the email. I felt like I needed the validation.

“Does that make me weak?” I asked quietly, watching Becka’s expression on my laptop screen, after explaining how I just wanted the whole thing to be over.

“No,” Becka said immediately. “It’s not weak to not want drama, babes.”

“It just feels like this is one of those times where I should be someone who batters on the door of justice, or something,” I said with a sigh, resting my chin in my hand.

Becka snorted. “Sure, and if this was a movie, you could go do that. But this is your life. That bitch tried to drag you into her own twisted little fantasy. You don’t owe her, or anyone, any more mental real estate. What could you even do, anyway? You said it yourself – this part of the legal process doesn’t really involve you. Your French lawyer will handle the part where that little psycho pushed my best friend into a cab and locked the fucking door–” Becka paused, closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose. “Sorry.” She blew the breath out.

“Anyway. You don’t need to be Erin Brockovich. You get to decide what your story looks like. And frankly, you’ve got enough going on without her. I say let her rot.”