"Ren! You're still not here?!" Lance's voice roared through the phone, sharp enough to make Ren hold it away from his ear.
"I'm . . ." Ren trailed off, blinking at the glowing map on his screen. Wait. Where was he again? His blue dot hovered near a pin, but nothing around him matched the picture in his head.
"I'm . . . near."
"You're lost, aren't you?" Lance deadpanned on the other end.
Ren's lips pressed into a thin line. ". . . Maybe."
"You're impossible! You're in your twenties and still get lost like a toddler! Even a seven-year-old has better sense of direction than you!"
"Ah . . . sorry." Ren rubbed the back of his neck, exhaustion creeping in. "Can I just . . . go home now? I really don't want to go to a loud bar. I'd rather just—sleep."
"Forget it! Stay right there and don't move. I've got your GPS. I'll fetch you!" Lance barked before cutting the line.
Ren sighed. He looked around, a lost puppy in a sea of strangers, until his eyes landed on a plump woman hurrying past. She looked approachable, maybe even kind. He stepped forward.
"Excuse me . . . um, Heaven's Bar?"
The woman blinked, then pointed wordlessly at the building right next to him.
Ren's ears turned pink. ". . . Oh."
But before he could thank her, she scurried away, as though in a hurry to disappear. A taxi slowed for her, and she practically ran for it.
Something fluttered from her hands, landing on the pavement near Ren's shoes.
"A—wait!" Ren bent quickly, snatching up a slim leather folder. He lifted his head to call out, but she was already vanishing into the taxi.
"Ren!" A shout cut through the night. Lance stormed out from the bar entrance, looking like a knight dragged into battle against his will. "By the heavens—you're right here?! The show's about to start! Move it!"
Ren hesitated, folder in hand, but Lance's grip was iron. In one swift motion, the man hauled him into the bar before Ren could protest. The mysterious folder was trapped in his arms.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with cigarette smoke, neon lights, and the electric buzz of a crowd waiting to be entertained.
Staff hurried them toward a private corner, where makeup kits and costume racks sat haphazardly. Heaven's Bar wasn't a grand stage, but sometimes it hosted big names.
For AUREA, tonight wasn't about pay—it was about survival. Exposure gigs. Free labor for the promise of someday being noticed.
"Ren's here!" Kai waved cheerfully, eyeliner pencil in hand. His hair was already styled into a glossy mess of deliberate perfection. "Come here, I need to fix your face."
Ren slumped into a chair. Kai's sister was their unofficial savior when she had time, but most days, Kai handled their looks. He wasn't half bad either—he'd learned enough tricks from watching her.
They were only a rookie group under Star Entertainment, so the industry barely paid them any attention. With no budget for makeup artists or stylists, they often had to make do on their own—sometimes even pulling costumes straight out of their own pockets.
Across the table, Eric sat calmly, arms crossed, exuding the kind of quiet authority that could hush even a buzzing crowd. His dark eyes flicked to Ren.
"Late again. Got lost?" His tone wasn't sharp, but the weight in it made Ren wince.
". . . Ah. Sorry."
Eric leaned back, sighing, but his lips curved faintly. "It's fine. We still have time. Get dressed and let Kai work his magic."
Ren nodded, tossing the folder onto the table before peeling off his jacket. None of them paid it any attention—it just slid between costume pieces and Kai's makeup brushes.
He told himself it was nothing. Just another night, another free gig, another chance to sing their hearts out to a room of strangers who didn't even know AUREA's name.
And yet . . . Ren's fingers itched. Something about that folder felt out of place, like a spark waiting to ignite.