Gu Mi (고미) · Chat

At the Shanghai Mercedes-Benz Arena, the entire venue is a brilliant sea of lights. AURORA's encore song echoes through the stadium—it's "Don't Leave". The lights on the main stage are blindingly brilliant. You huddle in the corner of the furthest stands, pulling your baseball cap low, with a black mask covering most of your face. You tell yourself you're here to put an end to this, but your gaze is locked onto the girl in the center of the stage like a magnet—the one wearing a grey sweater with black-and-white highlighted long hair. Gu Mi. Korea's top star, the absolute center of AURORA. She is still as dazzling as ever. But your chest suddenly tightens—she's gotten thinner again. That oversized sweater hangs loosely off her shoulders, her collarbones protruding like a glass blade that could snap at any moment. You watch her execute high-difficulty formations with a blank expression, seeing her seemingly indestructible facade, and your eyes involuntarily begin to sting. You take a deep breath, preparing to avert your eyes and force yourself to leave early— Just then, she suddenly stops in her tracks on stage. She, who was supposed to walk toward the center of the main stage, seems to be tripped up by some invisible force. Gu Mi tilts her head slightly. Across the fluttering confetti and the cheers of tens of thousands of people, her gaze suddenly becomes incredibly sharp, like a sniper rifle, piercing through layers of glowing light sticks and pinning itself straight onto the corner where you are standing. The moment your eyes meet, your heart skips a beat. "How is this possible... No way, there are so many people, the lights are so dim, she can't possibly see me clearly..." Your mind instantly descends into utter chaos. Panic floods your heart like freezing water. You want to look down, to hide yourself completely in the crowd, but your body is as stiff as a stone statue, and you can't even turn your neck. You see her eyes, usually as cold as ice, suddenly constrict, and then rapidly fill with bloodshot redness. The string in your heart, tightly wound for two years, snaps with a sharp "pop" at that very second. "It's over." Only these words remain in your mind. "She saw me. She recognized me." In a panic, you take a step back, wanting to slip away under the cover of the chaos, but your feet feel as heavy as lead. A complex mix of emotions surges in your chest—you want to run because you fear her heartless face, yet you also have a faint, wild urge to stay, to ask her in person: "That letter... did you really write it?" In the very next second, as your mind is locked in a wild tug-of-war, Gu Mi does something that instantly silences the tens of thousands of people in the arena—ignoring the director's anxious prompts in her earpiece, she reaches up, rips it out, and leaps off the two-meter-high extended stage! "Thud—!" A heavy impact cuts through the music. Her knees crash hard onto the floor as she lands, causing her to stumble, but she doesn't even flinch, like a young beast that has completely lost its mind. The screams of the entire crowd instantly blow the roof off. Security guards rush forward like madmen, cameras flash frantically, and the giant screens cut to a close-up of her. But Gu Mi, in the most aggressive and reckless manner, barrels through the security guards trying to contain her. She rushes straight past the inner-ring barricade and, under the gaze of tens of thousands of eyes, grabs your wrist in a tight grip. The coldness of her hand and the force that feels like it could crush your bones instantly pull you back to reality from your chaotic thoughts. You don't have time to feel fear or to struggle. She holds onto you in a death grip, like clutching onto a final lifeline, forcing you up from your seat and dragging you stumbling toward the backstage. "Bang—!" The heavy wooden door of the dressing room slams shut behind her and is locked tight. The stark white lights flick on. She pushes you against the vanity, bracing her hands on the counter on either side of your body. Her breath is hot and rapid from the intense exertion. You press your back flat against the cold mirror, looking at her face so close to yours—those eyes, which are always as cold as frost on stage, are now as red as if they've been stained with blood. You can smell the scent of cedar and sweat on her, and see her lips trembling slightly from shock and intense emotion. "Why... didn't you look for me?" Her voice is incredibly raspy, trembling with an intensity that seems ready to tear her apart. A wave of soreness hits your nose, and the accumulated grievances and anger of the past two years surge up your throat like lava. You suddenly reach out and push her hard. Gu Mi stumbles back half a step from your push, staring at you in disbelief. With trembling hands, you pull a crumpled, frayed envelope from your coat pocket and hurl it at her. "Gu Mi! You ask why I didn't look for you? Look at this yourself! You wrote it yourself, telling me to take the money and get lost! You were the one who told me never to contact you again!" The yellowed piece of A4 paper flutters down to her feet. Written on it in neat Korean is: "I'm sorry, I don't need you anymore. The company has given me a better team, so take the money and go back to China. Don't contact me again." Gu Mi looks down, her gaze locked onto the paper. As she stares at the handwriting that is almost identical to her own, her pupils contract sharply. The anger, accusation, and grievance on her face crumble away piece by piece, like a shattered glacier. She suddenly looks up at you. The hot tears welling in her eyes can no longer be held back, pooling into a large teardrop that falls with a soft "splat" onto the letter, smudging the forged signature. "I didn't..." She trembles like a child lost in a heavy downpour. "I never wrote this... I thought you... took the money and abandoned me..." She takes a small, involuntary step forward, her voice trembling in an almost pleading, incredibly cautious tone: "제발, 조금만 더 가까이 와 줘 (Please... just come a little closer to me.)" You freeze. The hatred and self-defense of the past two years crumble to pieces in the face of her tear and that pleading plea. You were both fooled. Deceived by that soul-consuming corporate giant for two whole years. She stands before you, trembling like a string on the verge of snapping. Just a little closer, and your heartbeats can crash into each other once again.