Kuro’s fans would surely rejoice at his flirting attempt, but Iseul decides to lie.

“I'm more of a Bora fan.”

He isn’t sure how Kuro expected him to respond, but judging by the surprise that flickers across his features, it’s clear he expected him to say yes.

“Bora? I was so sure that—” Kuro schools his face into a more amused expression. “Well, I'm sure she won't mind if I steal one of her fans.”

Iseul isn’t sure where this is going. “I beg your pardon?”

“I'd like you to have something.” As Kuro reaches for a bouquet of white flowers, Iseul thinks that it’s in poor taste if he plans on giving away another fan’s gift.

“Why?”

Too unexpected, Kuro reaches out and gently lifts the cap from his head, letting his blond hair fall freely across his face. His hair is growing out, and if he leaves it for much longer, the length will extend past his chin. Carefully, Kuro tucks a flower behind his ear.

"Because it suits you."

Iseul has to suppress the urge to scoff at this, when there are so many fans staring and murmuring about Kuro's intimacy. Part of their job is to make fans feel nice, but Kuro's efforts are so cliché and outdated that it feels more like a joke. “It's going to take more than pretty words to win me over.”

"Playing hard to get, I like that,” Kuro says with a laugh. He finally returns Iseul’s hat and turns his attention to the album cover. “What would you like me to write here?”

“Anything you want to.”

Opening up the album, Kuro chooses to write inside the booklet instead. “What a shame,” he murmurs. “It’d be nice to see more of you.”

“We’ll see about that,” Iseul answers, indifferent.

Kuro writes much more than his name and then, he looks up at Iseul with every intent to woo. “Here you go, all signed for Bora’s beautiful fan.” He slides the album to Iseul face down, either for privacy or to look cool. If Iseul seems too incredulous, he would just need to forgive him by virtue of being too ridiculous. “Next time, I’ll make you my fan for sure.”

“Thank you,” Iseul says out of politeness, turning away from the signing table without another word.

As he walks away, Kuro says something so quiet that he nearly misses it.

“—see you, Han Iseul.”

Iseul whirls around, heart in his throat, but Kuro’s already speaking to the next eager fan in line. There are several girls gaping at him, so he puts his cap back on, flower be damned. Perhaps his imagination is playing tricks on him, given how long this night has been.

He waits until he’s in the lobby and away from the fans’ curious eyes to look inside the booklet.

Kuro’s message is only two lines long:

To Bora’s fan:

Can I see you after this? Please wait for me at the café across the street.

In any other situation, Iseul would have laughed because clandestine trysts should only belong in teenage fantasies. But his mind is trying to catch up with his heart, beating far too fast, nearly panicked. He fumbles to find his phone, only to be greeted with a text message from Leo stating that he’ll be drowning his sorrows from his failed fansign at the karaoke bar with other fans.

His heart hasn’t calmed down any, but he closes the album and goes.

* * *

“Sorry for making you wait.”

Iseul looks up from his book, with the white flower pressed against the page as a bookmark.

It takes a moment for him to process that Kuro is standing in front of him. His black hair falls over his forehead in its natural state, parting easily at the center and free of any gel product. A pair of black frames sit atop his nose bridge, although they’re most likely non-prescription glasses. His jacket and pants are loose-fitting comfortable, and he looks absurdly normal.

Kuro cocks his head curiously when he doesn’t receive a response. “Han Iseul?”

Iseul closes his book. “So you know who I am.”

“You performed at the Seoul Music Awards over a year ago,” Kuro says easily and settles into the empty seat across from him. With the high backing of their leather seats, they’re away from anyone curious enough to look at them. Iseul even removes his cap and mask while they're here. “I was there.”

“That’s not what I meant—” Iseul doesn’t want to think about what happened last year, and something doesn’t seem right about this. “I was only invited because of my company’s connections. Not because I was a contender for an award.”

“I think,” Kuro says with a charismatic smile, “that you’ve done much more than you take credit for.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Iseul internalizes his words as something patronizing because they’re being spoken by someone who has more accomplishments than he could ever imagine.

But Kuro isn’t ready to give up. “After four years of training, you successfully debuted as a solo artist under Noh Media.”

He continues speaking, counting off each of his achievements on his fingers, a methodical litany of Iseul's accomplishments.

“—collaborated with renowned composer Gyeoul for your first album, performed at Jamsil Indoor Stadium when you were just a high school student—”

“How did you—”

“—rose to the top of the charts with your second album, achieved a music show win during the first week of promotions—”

Iseul bristles. “I robbed an empty house—”

“—and vanished from the industry soon thereafter.”

Kuro holds up his hand, all five fingers splayed. He isn’t wrong, and that stuns Iseul into silence. He searches his mind for arguments that aren’t there. His throat feels tight, not the way it feels right before crying, but tight as in it’s difficult for him to speak.

Kuro’s smile turns rather cunning. “I’d love to know what made someone like you want to attend our show tonight.”

“I think that you know too much already,” Iseul manages to say, and he wants to know why. It makes no sense that Kuro would possess all of this information about him, as if he’s defending him against someone questioning his experience, when they've never even spoken to each other before.

“I’m a curious person by nature. Does it bother you that I know?”

“I don’t know.” It comes as a surprise when Kuro is curious about him, of all people. And he’s serious, with all indications of his coquettish behavior from the autograph session gone. He’s too much of an enigma, full of contradictions, and Iseul might admire him one moment only to resent him the next. “You just caught me off-guard, that’s all.”

“Because you don’t like talking about yourself?”

“It’s just strange hearing it from you.” It makes Iseul feel less than perfect when he hears about things that he’s done and has too many regrets to name. He thinks of the times the media has characterized him as a pretty face, meant for nothing but music videos and fan service. “Can you get to the point?”

Kuro does nothing to hide the way his gaze turns serious. “I might know who you are, but nobody knows why you disappeared.” He can't fathom why Kuro cares so much. “If it has to do with Noh's financial difficulties, have you considered joining a different agency?”

“My contract has yet to expire,” Iseul answers. It's not that easy to give up the history he has with his company.

What Kuro says next is inconceivable.

“We could buy out your contract,” he proposes carefully, with a sentiment too unprecedented, “if you would be willing to join Phantom.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in.

Iseul searches him for any signs that he’s being deceived, but he isn’t, or Kuro is just that good with words. Meteor Entertainment was only a fledgling of an agency when it was founded and upon Kuro's success, it became an empire that reached all parts of the entertainment industry.

While adding new members to established idol groups may be uncommon, it’s not unheard of. For a group like Phantom that has continuously topped both domestic and international music charts and sold out concerts worldwide, success is guaranteed. Only a fool could refuse.

“I don't quite understand," Iseul says weakly.

“You have too much potential for it to go to waste. Will you consider it?”

Iseul closes his eyes in thought. His chest aches with an instinctive guilt when he even dares think about it. Being born and raised in Chairman Noh’s company, there are certain ideals that flow in his veins, having been embedded there for years. Whether he thinks about it now or a month from now, he can’t fathom being on stage with Kuro’s group when it means leaving behind his foundations and the place he calls home, whether he likes it or not.

“Thank you for the offer,” Iseul says, standing up to leave with his book. He feels humbled by the opportunity, but immediate gratification goes against everything he stands for, and he definitely doesn't need Kuro's charity to succeed. “But I'm sorry.”

This time, he doesn’t look back when Kuro calls out to him.