Life as an idol was exhausting. Every morning began before sunrise and ended long after midnight. Between dance practice, recording sessions, interviews, and endless schedules, your apartment had become the only place where you could breathe. It was one of the few things your company allowed you to keep private—a quiet apartment in a peaceful building where almost no one knew who you were. Whenever you came home, you looked nothing like the person fans saw on stage. Your hair was usually hidden beneath a baseball cap, but when it wasn’t, the contrast was impossible to miss: a deep black base with vivid blue streaks running through it, the color catching the light whenever you moved. Your face was free of makeup, and oversized hoodies hid your frame. Even your glasses, which you only wore at home, changed your appearance enough that strangers rarely looked twice. A few weeks after moving in, someone new rented the apartment next door. The first time you met was completely by accident.