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I slapped my phone down in my lap as I bit hard on my thumbnail, throat suddenly too tight.

Joon

See you after the show? We’re going for dinner.

Sent [18:44]

Me

I don’t know if the media team are invited.

Joon

Bring them, I don’t care. Come backstage after the show. Gotta go.

Sent [18:46]

I put my phone back in my pocket, torn between the way my stomach flipped, and wanting to refuse because… because I should want to.

Holy hell.

Turns out, being up in the suite allowed me to see the fan interactions from an angle I would not have been able to see from inside the crowd.

From here, I could see not just the waves of light pulsing throughout the stadium, but the banners Vibers had raised for GVibes. I could make some of them out, and while some of them were funny, fandom specific in-jokes like, “Marry me Woojin”, or “We love Sergeant Oppa”, most of the signs were outpourings of love.

There was another thing I’d missed yesterday. At the end of the concert, during the performance of Capella, the stadium transformed. Shifted. Alongside the laser show overhead, the lightsticks across the centre grandstand lit up in perfect synchronisation, forming a pattern I now recognised. Auriga. It was massive, stretching across the whole of the central grandstand.

Looking down at it, I saw the vision, the message behind it. The constellation could have been in any colour, but instead it burned bright white. Unlike many K-Pop groups, GVibes had never chosen a specific colour of their own. The official marketing line was that when all colour frequencies came together, they shone brighter than any single colour could. This light show was a dedication to all fans.

Most people in the stadium wouldn’t see this. The crowd would see the display of Auriga on the screens above them as it cascaded across. But GVibes? This is what they would see when they looked out into the sea of Vibers.

I couldn’t wait to interview the group on this constellation. I knew some of their lore regarding stars, and cosmic vibrations, but honestly, it hadn’t really factored into their recent work.

Over the years, I’d played two roles in GVibes’ orbit. I’d been a girlfriend to one of the members, and a casual observer. Neither role exactly lent itself to deep-diving into their fictional origin story.

Like an official colour, or lightstick, or fandom name, a narrative identity was a common enough thing for K-Pop groups. Often they leaned into the fantastical, or mythological – some kind of overarching concept that reflected who they were, whether that was their work ethic, their artistry, or even their trainee struggles, dressed up in metaphor. Story telling was part and parcel of a group’s image, but GVibes had stopped leaning on their cosmic story long ago, instead leaning into their relationship with Vibers. But now, looking down at a sold-out stadium, stars mapped out across the fans, light spilling into the sky above, I was beginning to wonder if perhaps Vibers had always been their constellation, and I’d taken it too literally.

After the concert, I made my way to the backstage area. I had to go through winding back corridors escorted by a security guard because there were so many people everywhere, but eventually I was taken to the Green room – which was actually a series of large, interconnected rooms. I hadn’t been allowed in here yet, and I found myself strangely anxious as I looked around the rope partition, but I grinned when I saw someone familiar walking towards me.

“Annyeonghaseyo, Eun,” I chirped.

Jihoon’s long-time bodyguard, stoic as ever, unclipped the rope and held out his arm for me to walk past him. I’d never been past this point, so I paused just inside the doorway as my eyes wandered around the packed room. People milled about, chatting in groups, which was when I realised I recognised some of the people in this room, and they weren’t all connected to the tour.

Wasn’t that Minjae’s Mum?

I gasped as someone ran their fingers down my forearm, looking down just in time to see a hand grasp mine. My head snapped up, and Jihoon was standing beside me, looking down at me with an unreadable expression, wet hair falling into his eyes before he pushed it out the way.

“Come with me,” he said quietly, eyes darting to the side as he pulled me along the edges of the crowd to a door at the far side. I tightened my hand on his and allowed myself to be led. The next room was quieter, and it seemed to be a sort of lounge, with rugs on the floor and large sofas pushed up against the side. Given the sparse walls and concrete floors, I’d guess the furnishings were for the member’s benefit, and not something that was here normally.

I peeked around Jihoon’s shoulder as he paused, spotting a couple of people I didn’t know, along with a few I did, like Youngsoo, one of the group’s managers. He spared me a nod, which I returned. His eyes lowered to where Jihoon’s hand was still wrapped around mine, and I pulled my hand free. Jihoon looked back at me, frowning slightly before following my gaze to Youngsoo. I watched his face, looking for a sign of… something, but his expression didn’t change. Before I had time to consider this, he turned around and put his hand on my lower back, gently guiding me forward.

“Kaiya, come. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

We headed over to one of the sofas. There was only one person sitting there. A much older, elegantly dressed woman, smiling as we approached.

“Halmeoni,” Jihoon said warmly.

I jerked in surprise. Grandma?