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“I think so,” I frowned. “He says he’s never home long enough to bother.”

“The man owns a three-bedroom house in the middle of Seoul–”

“Not quite the middle,” I objected.

“And he can’t be bothered to furnish it? Rich people problems,” she sighed dramatically, folding her legs and sitting on the floor.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t trouble myself to reply.

“Will we be seeing him at all today?” she asked to change the subject.

I shrugged, feigning an easygoing attitude I didn’t feel. “Probably not until much, much later. He’s been at the stadium since this morning. It’s a big performance.”

“They’ve still got the one tomorrow though, right?” she asked, and I nodded.

“Yup. Seoul day two. The final show in the Reset tour.” I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, feeling all the little stitches with my fingertips as I tried not to clench my fists.

“You seem chill about missing this one,” Becka observed with a wry twist to her mouth.

“I’m pissed,” I admitted. “I know it’s ridiculous. I’ve been to nearly all the shows, so why the hell should it matter if I missed the two in Busan and now this one?”

“Why does it?” she asked, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at me in that familiar way she did when she was trying to read me.

I blew out a breath and leaned back on my hands, stretching my legs out in front of me.

“It’s not just one thing. Yes, there’s the Jihoon element. I’m pissed that I can’t be there for such an important performance. I’m also pissed the people I’ve spent months working alongside – not just the media team, but all the roadies, sound techs, dancers – fucking everyone, Becka, even if it was just a polite nod, I’m deeply irritated that those people know exactly why I’m not there, and my absence only gives credence to the bullshit.”

I had to force myself to take a calming breath before I continued. “And I’m hurt that I lost the tour. This was my Roman Empire, y’know? Jihoon was never part of that equation, and I almost don’t care how many people think I took this gig because of him, because I know the truth. Reset was mine. My pinnacle. My hard work, my acknowledgement, and to not be able to see it through to the end?”

I let out a frustrated noise, clenching my jaw as I stared up at the ceiling and willed the sting of angry tears to pass.

“I earned this,” I said once I was calm. “I earned this. Even if I wasn’t going to write about it, I earned my chance to see it to the end.”

I waited for Becka to say something conciliatory, some platitudes to fill the silence, or plump my ego. But she didn’t.

“You’re right. You did earn it. Fuck ‘em.”

I stared at her for a moment, seeing the expression that I was so familiar with. The look that told me she would always be in my corner. That I was the luckiest person in the world simply because she was my friend. And suddenly, I almost didn’t give a shit about the tour.

Almost.

An hour later, we were surrounded by papers, our laptops open on the coffee table, and fresh cups of coffee in our hands as we discussed the series of events.

Becka had just gone into vivid detail of what she’d done so far to push back against the narratives that were being spun about me online, and my eyes grew wider with each account. She’d gone into some detail on our phone call a few days ago, but it was nothing compared to this. I didn’t know where to put my eyes. She’d printed out articles, and when I’d asked her why, she’d said it gave her joy to put a big, red ‘X’ over the page in red Sharpie when she’d gotten it taken down.

“You can do that?” I’d asked in a hushed tone.

“Don’t get too excited,” Becka scoffed. “Most of the websites haven’t bothered replying to me, and more than a few have politely told me to go fuck myself. Some of these smaller sites just need the words ‘defamation’ and ‘libel’ waved in their direction. Dad took care of the wording, I just copied and pasted it a few times.”

‘A few’ was a gross underselling of what she’d done. I looked around the piles of paper surrounding us and felt something tighten in my chest.

“And honestly, ENT did a lot of the work,” Becka went on, oblivious to my awed silence. “Their legal department is not fucking around. I couldn’t get them to care about the articles that only addressed you,” she said with a half-shrug and a tone that sounded like an apology, as if it was somehow her fault. “But they were all too happy to go after the ones that accused Jihoon of abusing his position.”

“They said what?” I bit out. I hadn’t seen that angle.

Becka shrugged again, but her lips twisted as if she’d tasted something sour. “Some articles were accusing him of using his star-power to seduce you, basically. Claiming it was half the reason your tour write-ups were so favourable.”

I snorted.