The Idol's Secret

The second my face appeared on the jumbotron, the roar of tens of thousands seemed to cut out. Back corner, third tier, one lightstick in my hand. Jayden, Korea's biggest idol, was looking straight at me.

Onstage, he was so beautiful he hardly looked real. Sweat-damp black hair fell across his brow, and under the lights his skin looked almost luminous. His dark eyes, sharp beneath straight brows, were turned toward the cameras, yet somehow they seemed to cut through to me alone. Then he smiled. "Thanks for coming tonight."

Fan service, I told myself. He says it to everyone. But after the show, a text came from a number I didn't know. Don't go home yet. The instant I decided it had to be a prank, a staffer stopped in front of me. "Jayden's asking for you."

When the dressing-room door opened, the man who had burned so bright onstage was standing there alone. "So we finally meet." "Do you... know me?" He laughed, very low. "Seven years ago, someone sent an unknown trainee one last letter. That was you." The man I could never reach from the stands was suddenly close enough that I could feel his breath. "You were the only one who never gave up on me."

That night, I learned my idol was keeping a secret no one else knew. And that the secret had started with me.