The world smelled like hairspray and stage lights.
Aarohi woke to the distant thrum of bass echoing through the floor, mingled with footsteps, chatter in Korean, and the unmistakable rustle of fans outside screaming with joy. She blinked hard, then again — staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling of exposed beams and rigging cables.
"Hey! Get that towel to Jae-min's station!"
A voice called out nearby, sharp and professional. It wasn't directed at her. At least not yet.
Aarohi sat up with a start.
She was on a cot in a small room — more like a utility break space tucked behind a curtain. Her reflection flashed in the mirror across from her.
She wasn't wearing her usual clothes.
She was in black cargo pants, a tour lanyard, and a shirt with the SOLARIS World Tour: LONDON logo on the sleeve.
Her breath hitched. She looked down. Her ID badge said:
"A. Sharma – Stage Crew, Support – Verified Access Level 2"
Her mouth dropped open.
"What…?"
She stood slowly, her legs slightly unsteady. There were voices outside. English. Korean. One frantic staff member darted past the curtain with a walkie-talkie.
"Cue the fog machines! Ten minutes!"
Aarohi followed instinct more than logic and stepped out.
Backstage stretched before her — a maze of soundboards, props, cables, dancers warming up, stylists touching up idols, and enormous LED screens lining the far wall. This wasn't a dream.
It felt too vivid. Too real.
Someone passed by and handed her a folded towel.
"You're on makeup queue tonight, Sharma — Jae-min first, then Min-jae. You got this, yeah?"
"I—yes," she managed.
Her hands moved on autopilot. She followed the corridor of chaos, every step bringing her deeper into the surreal.
She passed rows of mirrors with name tags taped to them. Then—
Jae-min.
He sat quietly in a chair, half-costumed, scrolling through his phone while a stylist fixed the last strands of his silver-dyed hair.
He was just… there.
Not a screen. Not a poster.
Real.
Breathtakingly so.
His head tilted slightly, as if sensing her presence. Their eyes met in the mirror.
And for a moment — the world narrowed.
He blinked. His expression changed — not shock. But… familiarity.
Like he knew her.
Aarohi quickly lowered her gaze, clutching the towel tighter.
"Ah, Sharma-ssi," one of the stylists called. "You're on liner duty. He prefers the navy, not black."
Aarohi walked over, heart hammering.
Jae-min didn't say anything as she approached. But as she handed over the item, their fingers brushed.
Another flash — like static.
Or memory.
He looked at her again, brows slightly furrowed.
"You're new," he said in Korean, soft and curious.
Aarohi swallowed. "I… just transferred in."
He tilted his head. "Have we met?"
She smiled weakly. "Maybe in another life."
Jae-min blinked. Then smiled back.
It nearly undid her.
She made it through the next hour in a haze — helping with prep, dodging questions, trying to act like she belonged. Strangely, no one questioned her presence. Every staff member treated her like she'd always been part of the crew.
The pass around her neck scanned perfectly.
Even her phone — a new model she didn't recognize — was filled with messages from a group chat labeled "Solaris Stage Ops."
She scrolled, heart racing.
Everything pointed to one truth:
She was part of the team.
Transmigrated. Or… pulled. Somehow.
Here.
To the very heart of the SOLARIS tour.
And yet, it didn't feel like a gift.
More like… fate.
Late that night, after the encore, after the confetti, after the screaming crowd melted into the London night — Aarohi found a moment of quiet behind the lighting rig.
The city lights blinked outside the high windows.
She looked down at her badge, her fingers trembling.
"What am I supposed to do now?" she whispered.
And from somewhere deeper in the shadows, Asura's voice slithered back:
"Protect him? Or lose him. That is your choice."
She shivered.
And didn't realize that Jae-min had come up behind her.
"You okay?"
She turned, startled.
He looked at her, not like a stranger.
But like a memory on the edge of his mind.
"I… just needed air," she said.
Jae-min studied her face.
"You feel… familiar."
Aarohi didn't answer.
But inside, her soul whispered:
"You knew me. You'll know me again."