RUSH

What if the audience wasn’t entirely human?

Byeol closed her eyes and touched her headphones, swaying to the rhythm. The pounding bass riff filled her ears, coupled with Dae’s rap verse. The words spilled from her lips like second-nature in an aggressive rapid-fire chain. A whiff of her sandalwood perfume wafted past Byeol’s nose. Electric thrills teased her skin right on the down beat, and she jumped in with her own melody. Her chiming voice leaped from her throat and ran up and down the octaves. To her left, Soo-min and Hana wove their voices into a seductive harmony. Byeol finished with a falsetto as the guitars faded into silence.

She let out a breath and opened her eyes just as the producer in the sound booth gave them a thumbs-up. He beamed at them, the corners of his mouth pushing up into his pudgy cheeks. A pair of glasses was perched on his nose, and he wore a button-down shirt with slacks. Byeol smiled back at him. They were all done for the night. Finally! After a long day of recording their third album, they were done.

To their fans, Byeol was Eclipse, the star vocalist, capable of hitting a high G like it was nothing. Dae was Nova, the rapper, and Hana was Nebula, their beautiful maknae. Soo-min, their center, and the oldest of the group was Aurora. Together, they were Elara. The group who ruthlessly seized their fandom four years ago.

Hana plucked off her headphones and hung them on the hook, her short brown hair fluttering with the motion. Her narrow nose was slightly upturned, her complexion pale as porcelain. “Yay! I can go home and watch Stranger Things now.”

Soo-min turned, her jaw hitting the floor. Her lips were diamond-shaped, and bangs veiled her forehead. A hoodie clung to her lean figure, and a piercing sparkled on her right ear. “Are you serious? It’s two a.m., and we have choreography at seven.”

“But I have to know how Eleven gets her powers back,” she exclaimed.

Soo-min shook her head. “You need sleep.”

“I’ll just drink a—”

Dae swerved around Byeol and jabbed at Hana’s middle with her fingertips. Shrieking playfully, she doubled over and swatted her hands away. Laughter rang throughout the studio. A rosy hue spread across Hana’s cheeks as Dae’s assault ended with a hug. They gathered their things and strolled out into the corridor.

“Why do you always mess with her like that?” Byeol giggled.

An impish smile split Dae’s face. Her dark eyes twinkled with mischief, and her throat was swan-like. Tattoos of stars and comets adorned both arms, and her complexion was fair. “Because it’s too fun.”

They took an elevator down to the lobby then went out to the valet where a driver waited for them. In minutes, he dropped them off at their apartment. The girls of Elara dispersed to their rooms, but there was one last thing Byeol wanted to do before she slept. After a quick shower, she changed into her pajamas, curled up in bed, and lost herself in the world of Dune. Images of the Fremen roaming the arid desert in their odd arrhythmic gait filled her mind as she turned the pages. Remotely, she heard Hana’s episode bleeding through the wall. The muffled dialogue was overwhelmed by music.

Byeol’s lamp flickered.

She looked up from her book, but the glow steadied once more. She delved back into her reading, but her eyelids drooped. The words came slower. Her breathing deepened, and her chin dipped. Within seconds, the book tumbled from her hand and hit the floor.

#

Byeol awoke to find herself floating in midair. She gasped, her pulse racing. Inches above the floor, her feet hovered, and blue haloes quivered at her wrists and ankles. Despite her squirming, Byeol was bound by the light. Where am I? What’s happening to me?

Arching beams sprouted through the walls and formed a ribbed lattice across the ceiling. The entire chamber was molded from iridescent metal, and the scent of something between mint and lavender suffused the air. On either side were round doorways which were lighted with alien script. The chains of curvilinear strokes were interrupted with dots and dashes. Before her was a console that extruded from the floor. Its wide base narrowed into a supporting leg, then flared out like flower petals at the top.

Behind the console stood three beings, their chins tilted upward. Four rail-thin arms hung from their torsos and terminated in swollen fingertips. Overlapping plates covered their whole bodies except for their faces, hands, and feet. Their jet-black eyes were as large as her fists, and their nostrils mere slits. Large, pointed ears protruded from their heads.

Above them moments from her life played out in a collage wreathed in light. Dominating the scene was a stadium jam-packed with fans, an on-stage kiss she’d shared with Dae, and an autograph signing. Smaller moments orbited them, a dusting of quiet scenes in-between the thrilling episodes. Byeol’s entire life lay bare before her captors. Every success, every failure, every secret she kept was plain to their eyes. They rooted through her dreams and fears like junk in a drawer. How were they doing this?

“What do you want with me?” she screamed. “Let me go!”

The aliens chirped and clicked among themselves. The one to her left glanced at Byeol then swiped through more of her memories. Some scenes shrank while others grew—reality shows she’d participated in, movie nights on the tour bus. The aliens nodded crooning in unison. Byeol shivered. What were they saying?

The memory display vanished with a few quick keystrokes from the alien in the middle. Warmth spilled upon Byeol in a golden curtain of light. A humming noise floated into her ears as a tiny amber orb whizzed about her head. Its form glistened and undulated, warping her reflection. Byeol’s mouth went dry, and her skin crawled. What was that thing? It zipped beyond her peripheral vision and careened into the back of her neck. Byeol’s head lurched forward, and she winced. Cold liquid metal oozed through her hair, invading her pores. Beneath her flesh it spread, wrapping about her spine, penetrating her skull. Deep within her brain it settled as she cried out.

One word echoed in her mind: Sleep.

Byeol’s eyelids fluttered. Her breathing slowed. Her chin dipped. She looked up at her captors and whimpered. They stared back at her and grinned like jackals.

Darkness engulfed her.

#

Byeol’s alarm screeched and her eyes snapped open. She gasped, a cold sweat chilling her brow. Reaching for the clock on her nightstand, she swatted at the silence button. She stared at the dimly lit ceiling as her heartbeat slowed. What an odd dream she’d had. She floated in a rainbow-colored room while three men in bony armor dribbled a ball back and forth. One of them snatched it midair, whirled about, and flung it at the wall. With a dull thud it ricocheted, shot across the room—straight into Byeol’s face. Instantly, she recoiled, and it melted covering her nose and mouth. A muffled scream rose from her throat. She clawed at the metal, trying to breathe, but she couldn’t. Then, she was blinded wheezing for air. Out of nowhere, strings tugged Byeol’s hands away from her face, and she hung there gasping, a chain of ragged breaths smothered by liquid metal.

Trembling, she kicked the blanket away and made her bed. Minutes later, she stepped out of the shower, clouds of steam rising around her body. Droplets of hot water clung to her skin as she reached for a towel and dried off. Byeol’s mane of midnight black tresses cascaded down her back silky and damp. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. Before the sink, she swiped at the foggy mirror. A being with swollen dark eyes peered over her shoulder smiling. It reached up with four hands and caressed her arms.

My beautiful pet.

Byeol shrieked, her voice ringing throughout the entire apartment. She spun around, but there was no one there. But even so, the feeling of warm fingertips lingered on her arms. Her forehead crinkled. She panted. What the hell?

Someone knocked at the door.

“Byeol! Are you okay? What happened?” Soo-min asked from the hallway.

Dae and Hana muttered to each other in the background.

“Byeol!” Soo-min called again.

“I—I’m fine. I just—I almost tripped over something,” she replied.

Needles pricked her conscience, and she cringed. Would they believe her? The words even sounded hollow in her own ears. But how could she tell them the truth? She could imagine their incredulous looks, the sidelong glances. A beat of silence passed.

“Okay,” Soo-min finally replied.

Her band mates’ footsteps faded away.

Byeol took a deep breath and let it out. She leaned against the sink, staring at her own reflection. Freckles dusted her cheeks, and her lips were thin and supple beneath a small nose. Her eyebrows were dark, graceful arches. Keep it together, Byeol. Keep it together.

#

A keyboard riff chimed from the speakers as the ladies of Elara danced across the hardwood floor. They lunged into a diagonal line, then undulated their bodies one after another as the punchy notes landed. In unison, they rolled their hips, elbows locked out, tilting their arms at sharp angles. Before them, Ji-ah, the choreography coach, nodded approvingly, clapping the beat. Her complexion was as pale as snow, and her hair was laced with silver. The top of her head didn’t even reach Byeol’s shoulder, and her limbs were lean and muscular.

“Yes! Very good,” she called over the music.

Body-length mirrors lined the wall before them, and to their left, windows overlooked the bustling streets of Seoul. A speaker was nestled in the corner, and beside it was a table with Ji-ah’s laptop on it. Elara’s personal effects were tucked away in cubbies off to the side. Rectangles of golden light stretched across the floor. The scent of perfume mingled with sweat wafted past Byeol’s nose.

The music surged in her veins as she moved by pure instinct. Like water, the moves came to her—the side-lunge straight into the wrist roll followed by the arm-circle. Her pulse accelerated and she beamed at her reflection. In her mind, Byeol pictured the audience hypnotized by their spectacle. She wasn’t just Eclipse. She was a temptress.

A voice broke into her thoughts like an intruder. More.

She broke formation, then rolled her head whipping her hair around in a circle. She twirled and dropped into a crouch, extending one leg to the right. The other girls froze and muttered to one another. But she carried on. Byeol tumbled backward and landed in a full split.

Ji-ah’s brow creased. “Byeol! What are you doing? That’s not what we practiced.”

She halted and blinked rapidly. Heat climbed into her cheeks. Her insides tangled into a cold knot. What had come over her? Byeol stood up.

“Sorry. I . . . got carried away,” she said.

Dae laughed. “Trying to give yourself a solo?”

Byeol chuckled half-heartedly.

Ji-ah frowned. “Let’s run it again from the refrain.”

#

Later that morning, the ladies of Elara arrived at a recording studio for an interview. Thankfully, they’d all had a chance to shower before the interview and just enough time to finish their makeup in the car. By the time they arrived, they were close-up ready. As soon as they entered, two podcasters—Esther and Jake—welcomed them with open arms. Heat flooded Byeol’s cheeks while she waited for her turn to hug them. They’d interviewed Elara three years ago for their second album and became fast friends. They followed one another on Instagram and even went out for drinks from time to time. Byeol often stole glances at them when they weren’t looking.

Today, she inhaled Esther’s apple cinnamon perfume and embraced her appreciating the soft curves beneath her clothes. When at long last she pulled away, she smiled and studied Esther’s dark tapering eyelashes, and the piercing that sparkled on her nose. A mane of hair streaked with hot pink framed her face. Tattoos of blossoming vines swirled on her shoulders. A silver chain glinted around her neck.

Then, she threw her arms around Jake as if she hadn’t seen him in a year. She melted in the sweet pressure of his embrace and rested her head against his chest. He wore the white sweater that she liked. The one that accentuated his lean, muscular build. His skin was smooth and clear, and a trimmed beard sprouted from his chin. She pulled back just enough to flash a smile at him. Reluctantly, she released him, and they all sat down.

Across from them, Jake and Esther reclined on a bright orange couch with Pokemon pillows nestled against the armrests. In the center of the room, was a coffee table adorned with decorative candles and succulents. Movie and concert posters covered the walls. Microphones hung from mechanical arms that craned over their heads. Byeol ended up sandwiched between Soo-min and Hana with Dae on the far end. Their elbows and knees grazed against her, and their warmth bled through her clothes.

They started off exchanging anecdotes from their early days together—the reality show that formed their group and their first tour through Asia. Like magic, the memories flooded her recollection. She remembered the endless rounds of performances and voting and her first glimpses of the other girls who would become her band mates. She smiled at a memory of helping Hana learn a bit of choreography and how she thanked her profusely afterward.

“I seem to remember this one rapping in Chinese to a Korean audience,” Soo-min said nudging Dae with her elbow.

Dae’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God, woman. You’re ruthless,” she said pushing her playfully.

Laughter filled the room.

She shook her head, a smile splitting her face. “She will never let me live that down.”

“We’d just come back from a concert in Beijing! Of course, she will rap in Chinese,” Hana chuckled.

“Yes. Thank you, maknae,” Dae said.

Byeol’s gaze lingered on Esther’s diamond-shaped lips and wondered what they would feel like pressed against hers. In her mind, she spun around and passed the kiss to Jake, pulling him down to her mouth. She caught flashes of bodies entangled on the bed, hands roaming for bare skin. Her pulse raced. A gentle heat bubbled up from her middle and climbed into her scalp. The conversation seemed muffled and distant. Sweet electricity danced along her arms.

Then, the same rasping voice from earlier broke into her thoughts. You know what you want.

As if caught in a river’s tide, Byeol leaped from the couch, grabbed Jake by the collar, and planted her lips on his. In the background, Hana gasped. Soo-min and Dae muttered to each other. What were they saying? Never mind.

“Oh my,” Esther chuckled.

Byeol pulled away from Jake both of them gasping for air.

A pink hue flooded his cheeks, and he laughed. “What did I do to earn that?”

Byeol giggled then kissed Esther.

A smothered yelp sprang from her throat, and she startled on the couch.

“What’s gotten into you?” Dae asked.

Byeol recoiled from Esther. Ice flooded her veins. Goosebumps swarmed on her arms and cheeks. Did she really just do that? And where did those dirty thoughts come from? She never entertained fantasies like that. A quivering breath escaped her lips, and she swallowed hard.

Looks darted about the room.

Soo-min’s brow creased, the corners of her mouth dropping. “Are you okay?”

“I—I . . . I think I should just . . .” Byeol stammered, then bolted from the room.

Her loud footsteps echoed down the corridor as she pushed through the door and ducked into the restroom. She took a deep breath and let it out, her hands quaking. Perspiration chilled her palms. What had just happened in there? Slowly, her heart rate came down. In the mirrors, hot tears trickled from her eyes. Her sniffling echoed in the pristine bathroom.

The door hinges creaked, and Soo-min entered. “Byeol, why did you do that? That was so unlike you.”

“I—I don’t know. S-something came over me, and I—I couldn’t stop myself,” she whimpered.

“Like in the dance studio?” she asked.

Byeol nodded, her vision fogging with tears.

Soo-min touched her arm and for a second, it wasn’t her, but the four-armed creature.

Byeol gasped and flinched away.

Soo-min yanked her hand back. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she cried.

She broke down into a fit of weeping, and Soo-min embraced her. Tears dampened the center’s sweater and Byeol’s muffled sobbing spilled into the hallway. She clung to Soo-min desperately as if their closeness could somehow make sense of this bizarre day. But no answers came. All she was left with was the force that propelled her to the podcasters, and the taste of Esther’s strawberry chapstick.

#

After the interview, Soo-min called their manager, Hyun-Jae, and told him Byeol was feeling stressed lately and needed a couple days off. Graciously, he agreed. Their friends said they would edit out the kiss and not breathe a word about it. Even their staff members were sworn to secrecy. For the rest of the week, Elara would go on promoting their new album on social media and various talk shows—which left Byeol to her own devices.

The next morning, she woke up and started her day with green tea and yoga. She spent long hours reading on the couch. When she needed to move, she reviewed the choreography just enough not to forget it. But all throughout the day, Byeol listened for that alien voice. In everything she did, she half-expected it to burst into her mind again. By evening, she’d had peace and quiet uninterrupted. Perhaps it really was just stress?

When her band mates came home, she greeted them all with a hug.

Hana laughed. “Awww. Do you feel better now?”

Byeol smiled and nodded.

“No more crazy-crazy,” Dae said waving her hands.

“No more,” Byeol said shaking her head.

“Good!” Soo-min said.

For dinner, they feasted on onigiri, gyoza, and ramen. The warm aromas of noodles and roasted eel filled the kitchen. Dae complained about a security guard who kept staring at her during one of their interviews. “He’s smitten with you,” Hana teased. Dae groaned through a mouthful of dumpling. Byeol laughed and sipped her tea. After they cleaned up, Byeol watched an episode of Stranger Things with Hana. They curled up on the couch together with her laptop set up on the table. Byeol didn’t care about the show. She just wanted to be with Hana and feel like herself.

Hopefully, the trend would last.

#

Back stage, Byeol sat before a makeshift vanity and fussed with her makeup. With a soft brush she dusted her face with foundation then applied mascara. The ladies of Elara were dressed in their uniforms—white long-sleeve crop tops and mini-skirts with golden accents. For Byeol, an amber disk was emblazoned on her chest flush against a bright golden crescent. For Soo-min, golden waves undulated across her chest, and for Dae, a starburst glittered right below her collar. For Hana, golden sequins of varying sizes shone on her breast.

Soo-min rose from her chair. “All right, ladies. Let’s get out there and have a good time.”

Elara snatched up their microphones and marched onto a dark stage, turning their backs to the audience. When the lights had gone out moments prior, the crowd screamed, and Byeol’s pulse accelerated. A smile spread across her face. Their official fandom, the Stargazers, filled up the concert hall from the pit all the way to the gallery. A sea of eager faces bathed in the light of their glow sticks.

On cue, Byeol twirled around, the microphone raised to her lips, as the spotlight enveloped her in its heat. She sang, her voice cascading through the notes like a river flowing over rocks. After a beat of silence, her band mates jumped into an electrifying verse as the Stargazers danced before their seats. In perfect unison, Elara formed staggered lines then lunged into a hair-whip. They whirled and glided backward, their knees bending and locking out. Byeol leaped through the gap between Dae and Hana, sparks surging in her veins. Her angelic voice washed over the audience like an ocean’s tide lapping at the shore.

As Elara belted out the refrain, Byeol reveled in the audience’s hypnotic gaze. Hundreds of them waved her portrait in the air or clutched signs scrawled with bright love notes. Eclipse! I love you. Eclipse, I’m your number one fan! How could she stand on this stage and just let them admire her from afar? Some of them flew internationally just to be here. They deserved an intimate experience with her. They deserved—

More, the alien voice echoed in her mind.

As if strings ripped her from the stage, Byeol pounced, heart punching against her sternum. She beamed soaking in the Stargazers’ adulation like a sponge. For a brief moment, she didn’t think she was falling. She was flying. She was destined for the stratosphere and the stars beyond.

“OH MY GOD!” Hana shrieked.

With a loud thud, she landed in a crouch. Behind her, footsteps battered the stage. Then, she broke into a sprint, high-fiving people all along the front row. As her palm grazed theirs, a few fans screamed and fainted. When she reached one side of the concert hall, she whirled around and ran to the other. Byeol sang the last refrain alone while her band mates gawked at her in silence.

#

“WHAT. WAS. THAT?” Soo-min exclaimed knuckles planted on her hips.

Her words struck Byeol like a hammer, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. Soo-min’s feet became hazy impressions of themselves. Standing before her, it felt as though she’d been doused with a bucket of frigid water. Would they let her perform for the rest of the evening? What would happen to her now?

“I . . . I don’t know,” she whimpered.

“I thought you got better,” the center pressed.

“I did, too!” Byeol cried finally looking up.

A chorus of cheers floated into her ears. Music blasted throughout the concert hall. Dae’s fleeting footsteps grew louder, then faded. They were backstage while she performed her dance solo. After Byeol’s stunt, a security guard gently guided her away from the pit even as fans cried out and reached for her.

Hana wrung her hands. “You scared us out there.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Soo-min paced back and forth arms crossed. “We can’t cover for you this time. Even if none of us tell Hyun-Jae, clips of your stunt will be all over the internet!”

Byeol wept into her hands.

A beat of silence passed.

“You’re not performing for the rest of the night,” Soo-min said. Then she turned to Hana and continued, “Take her lines.”

Byeol changed out of her uniform and wiped away her makeup. She could not bring herself to look any of her band mates in the eye as they came and went for their solo performances. She’d almost blown up their concert tonight. These exceptional women who had become her sisters. How could she do this to them? She wanted to hide her face, to escape into a book. But she could do neither. She sat backstage listening to their last group song as fiery darts pierced her chest.

#

Byeol was suspended from all group activities until further notice. Hyun-Jae informed her of the company’s decision in a scathing phone call that left her in tears. She got the news before they’d even left the concert hall that night. She was silent for the entire ride home. When they arrived at their apartment, Byeol immediately retreated to her room. She threw herself on the bed and sobbed.

Rough fingertips glided up and down her arm.

Don’t cry, my pet. Your fans still love you. Go out and give of yourself, the voice whispered in her mind.

A weight lifted from her chest. She smiled and sat up wiping her face dry. Sunshine flooded her veins. It was right. It wasn’t the end of the world. Thousands of adoring Stargazers were still out there yearning for their chance to meet her, to speak to her, to touch her. So, why was she hiding?

She changed into a clean outfit, then freshened up in the bathroom, and ducked into the night. Byeol had no plan—and that was the best part. She walked along the street and took selfies with fans, signing whatever items they thrust at her. In the middle of crowded plazas, she gave impromptu performances amid waves of applause.

Hours later, she lay in bed at a hotel room in downtown Seoul. Clothing was scattered on the floor and on the desk. On either side of her lay a man and a woman whose names she could not remember. They slumbered peacefully, their chests rising and falling. She’d met them at a bar and took photos with them. Several drinks and a dance later, Byeol found herself writhing between them, her passionate cries bleeding through the walls.

She rolled to her side and faced the woman. Her cheek was silky smooth as she grazed it with the back of her fingers. The sweet scent of peaches and honey wafted into her nose. Below that narrow nose were supple lips, and her figure was lean and slender. The man was also a specimen with his clean-shaven chin and broad shoulders. Byeol smiled to herself. She needed a memento for tonight. Carefully, she climbed out of bed, dug her phone of her purse, then climbed back in. She smiled for the camera, and the shutter release clicked. In seconds, she’d uploaded the photo to Instagram with a short caption.

A night to remember.

#

The next morning, Byeol awakened in her own bed, fragments of a dream flickering through her mind. She danced up and down a crowded street, weaving around enthralled fans. Cameras flashed everywhere. Scattered cheering and applause floated into her ears. Upbeat music surged in her veins, and she found herself tangled in a sea of flesh. She sighed. If only she could live so courageously.

Byeol sat up and stretched in the sunlight cascading through her window. The glorious warmth touched her skin, and she grinned. Another day with her lovely band mates had begun. She leaped out of bed and tidied up the blanket and pillows. That’s when she saw something odd. Sitting next to her wallet on the nightstand was a hotel key card. The plastic rectangle shimmered in the sunlight. In the center was the outline of a flower in full bloom, and beneath it spelled in round san serif letters, was the name Divine Lotus. Byeol’s brow crinkled, and she plucked it from the table. What was this doing here? Maybe we stayed there during one of our tours, and I just forgot all about it. She shrugged, replaced the key card, then glided into the hallway. Her ears twitched at a quiet conversation in the living room. What were they bantering about today?

Silence fell as soon as she entered the room.

Byeol froze, and every gaze landed on her.

Soo-min stood there, arms crossed with dark rings beneath her eyes. Her smoldering glare pierced straight to Byeol’s heart. Hana sat on the couch, a tear sparkling on her cheek. Right beside her, was Dae, her brow creased, the corners of her mouth drawn down. Byeol shivered.

“What—what’s the matter?” she asked.

“Do you want to explain where you were last night?” Soo-min growled.

She flinched at the center’s reproach. “We had a great time at the fan meeting, and then we came home, and I went straight to bed.”

Dae’s frown deepened. “Is that all?”

Byeol gaped at her, a hand flying to her chest. “Of course, it is. You know me.”

“Do we?” Hana asked, her small voice trembling.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Byeol cried.

Like a jaguar, Soo-min pounced and thrust her phone at Byeol’s face.

She gasped, and her blood froze. She staggered backward as she stared at a portrait of herself in-between two slumbering people. Byeol beamed at the lens and flashed a peace-sign, her bare shoulders peeking into the frame. Rapid-fire memories bombarded her mind. The voice whispering to her soul, the spontaneous autographs, the kisses in a dim hotel room, the weight of bodies grinding against her. No! She couldn’t have done this. She wouldn’t! But even as she inwardly screamed denial, one more memory convicted her: Byeol tapping the share button.

Hot tears spilled down her face. “No. No! I—I thought I was getting better. Oh, my God!”

“Why did you do this?” Soo-min asked her voice softening.

“I don’t know!” Byeol sobbed.

Soo-min’s bottom lip quivered, and tears tumbled from her eyes. “Hyun-Jae and the board have decided unanimously to sever all ties with you. You have to leave.”

Byeol fell to her knees and pressed her hands together. “Please don’t kick me out! I’ll do anything. I’ll control myself from now on. I promise, I promise!”

Dae sprang to her feet. “Don’t you get it? We can’t save you anymore! It’s out of our hands.”

Byeol’s shoulders shook with the force of her weeping. “But I love you, all of you, and I love our life together.”

“We love you, too. But you need help, and you need . . . rest,” Hana wept.

“NOOOO!” Byeol howled.

She sobbed into her hands, her heart shattering into a million pieces. The taste of salt seeped into her mouth. Her palms grew damp. The sound of her wailing filled the apartment. She folded beneath the weight of her sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” Soo-min said. “You’re not one of us anymore.”

#

By the end of the week, Byeol had moved back in with her parents. There she sat in her teenage bedroom with nothing but the quiet for a companion. There was no rehearsal, no upcoming interviews, or concerts. She was done. A deep ache resonated in her chest, and she whimpered. On her wall hung a framed poster from one of Elara’s tours. The four of them posed in uniform, smiling for the camera, their arms wrapped about one another. Byeol stood up, plucked it from the wall and hugged it close as tears spilled down her cheeks. If only she could back and relive it.

Four hands touched her shoulders, and the voice came to her once more. Don’t worry. We will fix this, and you will shine for me again.

A quivering breath escaped her lips, and she reached up, grasping the alien’s hand.

#

Two Years Later—Los Angeles, California

Byeol sat backstage while the makeup artists fussed over her. Soft bristles grazed her forehead. A tiny brush rolled across her bottom lip. Stage crew members darted back and forth shouting last-minute orders at each other. Outside, the crowd chanted her name. Byeol! Byeol! Byeol! Byeol! Her pulse accelerated. A corner of her mouth rose.

Her friend with swollen black eyes stood behind her grinning from ear to ear.

Since her expulsion from Elara, she’d moved overseas and leveraged a few industry contacts to start her own solo career. Byeol was with a brand-new company, and no center was there to tell her what to do anymore. She shed her old stage name and just used her given name now. It was short, easy, and most of all, memorable.

By then, Elara had replaced her. The new girl was Chaeryoung, a Chinese-Korean singer and rapper who went by the stage name, Io. She was pretty, and she was good, great even. But she couldn’t hold a candle to Byeol. Elara would never be the same without her. Oh well.

The makeup artists finished their work, stepping back from her chair. A moment later, a stage crew member handed her a microphone and earpiece, which she accepted with a gracious smile. She put it on as someone in the background announced, “All right people, it’s show time!” A wave of cheers swelled through the stadium. Listening to their voices, a thrill sparked in her veins.

Give them a show they will never forget, her friend whispered.

Byeol smiled. “You know I always deliver.”

She marched to stage left and waited behind the curtain. The pit was jam-packed with people, some of whom were Stargazers, and some of whom had only heard of her after she was expelled from Elara. Byeol’s heart hammered, and electricity tingled in her system. A stage hand on the opposite side gave her a thumbs-up. Instantly, she twirled across the stage amid the high-pitched trilling of the keyboard and a majestic saxophone riff. Pyrotechnics flared behind the band showering the stage with light and heat. Byeol halted and arched backward, planting her hands on the stage. Her legs followed in a graceful crescent, and she assumed a wide stance thrusting a fist into the sky as lights exploded behind her.

She looked out on the screaming multitude and declared, “I’m back, bitches!”

The crowd roared.

#

Millions of light years away, on the planet Adrazza, Byeol’s neural-hyperspatial broadcast broke through the fabric of spacetime and delved into the receiver dish on top of the parlor. It surged through the distributor rods that thrust into the ceiling and into Vaxavva’s visor. He reclined on the chair, his four arms splayed out on the armrests. With his jaw hanging slack, he gazed upon the sea of human faces through Byeol’s eyes. He felt the wind on her skin and reveled in the music blasting in her ears. His pulse accelerated with hers, their hearts beating in unison. Like a plant, he’d nourished her every week, and my, had she blossomed! He drank her experiences as though they were the finest nectar, savoring every moment. She was his favorite distraction, and would be for quite some time. When he grew bored, he would delete her from his collection and find a new surrogate.

There were plenty to choose from, after all.