He spots me and calls out, “Are you Shin Hye?”

“Uh-huh,” I say dumbly.

“Yong Hwa wanted to be sure you arrived in style,” the driver says.

“I see...” I mutter, making my way forward.

“I’m Yeong Sob,” the driver says, “I’ll be taking you around tonight.”

“Hi Yeong Sob,” I say, “I’m overwhelmed.”

“Don’t be,” he laughs, helping me into the car. “It gets less surreal fast, I promise.”

He closes the door behind me, and the backseat lights up. The windows are tinted so that nobody can see into the car, and the cabin is a little den of luxury. As we peel away from the curb, I stare at the chilled bottle of champagne waiting in an ice bucket before me. Indie rock starts playing over the speakers, and I see a little note waiting for me on the seat. I pick it up and spot some scratchy script that I can only guess belongs to Yong Hwa.

“Dear Shin Hye,” the note reads, “Have a drink on me. I’m so glad I busted open my organs so that I got to meet you. —Yong Hwa”

“Charming,” I mutter, picking up a delicate champagne flute.

I fill up my glass and take a sip of the bubbly drink. My nose tickles as the sparkling wine dances across my tongue. First my makeover, and now this? It’s like I’ve stumbled into someone else’s life, someone cool and cosmopolitan and edgy. I keep expecting the clock to strike twelve, or for my carriage to turn into a pumpkin...but so far it’s still a town car, and I’m still on my way to my first rock concert.

I settle in as we tear towards the city. The skyline is lit up beyond the windows. Though I’ve been here all my life, the whole place looks different out the window of a fancy town car. I feel like I’m seeing everything again for the first time. Since Yong Hwa crashed into my life, everything is a little bit brighter. A little more exciting. As we approach the venue, I’m all but bouncing in my seat. This is going to be amazing, I can feel it.

Yeong Sob pulls to a stop behind the venue. I can see the snaking crowd around the corner jostling and yelling and vibrating with excitement. The driver helps me out of the car and walks me over to the back entrance. Two burly security guards stop us, but Yeong Sob mentions my name, and they let us through. I have to try hard not to laugh. I never in a million years thought I’d be on any sort of VIP list. Yeong Sob tells me he’ll be waiting in the car and disappears from my side. The backstage door snaps shut, and I’m suddenly immersed in this new, overwhelmingly exciting world.

In the darkness around me, people weave and tear by. I can’t make out anything around me, but there are a thousand sounds echoing around the backstage world. I hold very still, trying to get my bearings. Surely, if I can handle the bustle of an emergency room, I can handle this. My eyes slowly begin to adjust, keying into the small patches of light, the hints of shape. I can hear a great rumbling from just beyond my range of vision—it must be the audience flowing into the arena to watch CN BLUE play.

A hand closes around my elbow, and I whip around to see who’s there. There’s a face very close to mine, though I can’t make out any features.

“Shin Hye!” cries a familiar voice. I recognize it as belonging to Han Dae Jin, the manager of Yong Hwa’s band. It’s comforting to know there’s at least one aspect of this crazy new world that I’m already acquainted with.

“Hey Dae Jin,” I yell over the hustle of the backstage, “Are you my babysitter for the evening?”

“You might say that,” he replies, ushering me through the blackness, “Yong Hwa wanted to make sure you weren’t abducted or anything.”

“Does that happen a lot at your shows?” I ask, somewhat alarmed.

“Not particularly,” he says, “But you never know. There’s a place you can watch the show from in the wings of the stage. Is that cool with you?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say. We step into a patch of light from the house of the arena, and Dae Jin gets a look at my outfit.

“Goddamn!” he cries, unabashedly, “A far cry from those scrubs, huh?”

“Well, all my scrubs were dirty. So I had to go with this,” I say dryly.

“You look great,” Dae Jin says. “Yong Hwa is going to lose his mind.”

Usually I’d be annoyed with anyone dwelling on my looks for this long, but the thought of Yong Hwa seeing me all dolled up gets me excited. I’m halfway hoping that we’ll be able to meet up on our own so that we can cut right to the chase. After that kiss, my body’s gone into Yong Hwa withdrawal. I need my next fix soon, or I don’t know what I’ll do. As excited as I am to see him play, I’m hoping that the show goes quickly—the sooner we’re alone together, the better.

“Here we are,” Dae Jin says, halting just beyond a thick black curtain, “I think you’ll like the view.”

He draws the curtain back, and the arena opens up before my eyes. My jaw drops open as I take in the scope of the space from this vantage point. There are thousands of people out there, milling and seething, waiting to see CN BLUE play. There’s an electric anticipation in the air, so charged I can practically see it sparking through the crowd. Crew members rush about the stage, readying instruments and microphones, making sure that everything is just right for the band. I turn toward Dae Jin with an excited smile on my face.

“This is amazing!” I cry out.

“Just wait until they start playing!” he says back.

“Are you sure it’s OK if I stay here?” I ask.

“Sure,” he says, “You’re a guest of honor tonight.”

That’s funny, considering the very dishonorable things I plan to do with Yong Hwa as soon as he gets off the stage. I try to memorize as much of what’s going on around me as I can. I know that I’ll want to remember this night for the rest of my life.

“Dae Jin!” says a high, wispy voice behind us. I turn around and see a tall, rail thin blonde woman grinning at the manager. She’s flanked by two similarly built brunettes, and all three women are ignoring me pointedly. Their tight dresses are heavily ripped, baring toned arms and flat stomachs. Tattoos run along their limbs and backs, their hair is perfectly tousled and messy, and their makeup is bold. They’re absolutely stunning, every single one, and I can’t help feeling a little intimidated.

“Girls,” Dae Jin says, throwing his arm around the blonde woman’s shoulders, “How are you all doing this evening? Ready for the show?”

“Always,” says once of the brunettes, whose pitch black hair hangs in a perfectly straight wave down her back.

“How long until they start?” asks the woman with chestnut curls.

“Any minute now,” Dae Jin says with a smile, “I bet they’ll be hot tonight—it’s the last show before we officially kick off the tour!”

“Yay!” giggles the red hair woman, clapping her hands together excitedly. The others follow suit, bopping up and down like toddlers in a bouncy house. There’s something too perfect about the way they fawn over Dae Jin, something that I don’t quite trust.

“This is Shin Hye,” Dae Jin tells them, gesturing my way, “She took care of Yong Hwa in the hospital.”

“Oh yeah,” says the blonde, “You made us wait in the lobby.”

“It’s hospital rules,” I tell her warily. I suddenly remember her keening in the waiting room as Yong Hwa was whisked back into the hospital. She had told me rather frankly that Yong Hwa was the next Messiah. That level of adoration made me more than a little nervous.

“Take care of her, will you?” Dae Jin says to the girls, “I’ve got to go make some calls. Arrangements for the Japan show.”

“Wait—” I say, but Dae Jin’s already disappeared into the darkness of the backstage world. It’s just me and the three towering beauties, alone in the wings. The instant Dae Jin’s out of sight, their demeanor changes instantly. The bubbly effervescence diesin a heartbeat, and a cold, calculated menace comes over them.

“I’m sorry,” I say with as big a smile as I can manage, “I didn’t catch your names.”

“I’m Hyuri,” says the blonde.

“I’m Doo Rim,” says the raven-haired woman.

“I’m Su Gyeong,” says the woman with brown curls.

“And you’re the Elite