𝓢𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓻𝓪 | 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓻𝓸 𝓢𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓸𝓽

The deafening roar of thirty thousand screaming fans echoed through the packed dome stadium as the heavy, subterranean bassline of LE SSERAFIM’s hit track vibrated right through the concrete floorboards. Blinding spotlights, pyrotechnics, and synchronized laser beams swept across the dark arena in dazzling waves of emerald and magenta, illuminating a sea of lightsticks waving in perfect rhythm.

High above that sparkling ocean, perched casually on a steel support beam wedged into the venue's dark ceiling rafters, sat Spider-Man. His iconic red-and-blue suit caught the stray, colorful flashes of light from the stage below, his flexible white eye lenses completely motionless and fixated on a single person down on the main runway: Sakura.

Down on the floor level, venue security guards casually glanced up at the distant silhouette crouching on the structural beams, shared a collective sigh, and went right back to monitoring the barricades. By now, Spider-Man randomly showing up on the ceiling during LE SSERAFIM's tour stops had become a localized, recurring urban legend. He never disrupted the show, never caused a scene, and always "paid" for his rafters spot by web-slinging outside after the encore to stop pickpockets, catch drunk drivers, or clear up downtown traffic congestion.

During a short, mid-set breather between heavy choreography blocks, the house lights dimmed down to a soft, cool blue. The members gathered near the center stage, catching their breath, taking quick gulps of water from black towels, and laughing as they waved toward the screaming front rows.

Sakura wiped a faint bead of sweat from her hairline, her dark, expressive eyes naturally wandering upward toward the shadow-draped rafters of the arena ceiling. Right on cue, her gaze locked directly onto the masked vigilante sitting silently up on his steel perch.

A small, hopelessly soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Leaning slightly toward Chaewon and Yunjin while keeping her wireless microphone held low against her hip—her voice carrying softly over the private, hidden monitor ear-pieces.

"He’s here again."

Chaewon followed Sakura's upward gaze into the rafters, letting out a breathless, highly amused chuckle under her breath as she wiped her neck with a towel. "Seriously? How on earth does he keep bypassing venue security at every single stop on this tour?"

Yunjin shook her head with a wide, bright grin, casually raising her hand to throw a subtle wave toward the roof. "Honestly, at this point, management needs to just give him an official member lightstick and a staff badge."

Kazuha stretched her shoulders gracefully, looking up with a soft laugh. "His posture on that beam is actually incredible, though... he must have crazy core strength to sit like that for two hours."

Sakura didn't chime in on the joke. She kept her eyes locked onto the distant red-and-blue figure for a few seconds longer, the bright stage lights reflecting like quiet, distant stars in her dark pupils. Her heart thudded against her ribs with a strange, heavy ache—a lingering, unexplainable wave of nostalgia that made no logical sense to her mind.

The heavy opening synth chords of the next track began to swell through the arena speakers, vibrating the stage floor. Wiping the strange, fleeting sadness from her face, Sakura turned back toward the cheering crowd with a dazzling idol smile, leaving the superhero watching quietly from the dark above.

The grand entrance lobby of the downtown convention center had devolved into absolute, unchecked, beautiful chaos.

It had all started roughly ten minutes ago when Spider-Man—clad in his full, vibrant red-and-blue costume—had casually walked through the sliding glass front doors of the LE SSERAFIM fan-meeting venue, holding an official VIP admission pass between two gloved fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Fans had shrieked. Hundreds of smartphone camera flashes went off in a blinding strobe effect. Local news crews scrambled outside to flip on their live broadcast rigs, while online fan-stream chats exploded with millions of frantically typed comments. Backstage venue staff had completely panicked, peeking their heads out from behind the velvet green room curtains just to witness the surreal sight of New York's premiere superhero standing patiently in line for an idol greeting table.

And then... he had completely vanished.

No dramatic web-slinging through the glass skylights. No high-speed roof exit. No superhero acrobatics. He had simply slipped into a quiet, low-traffic hallway restroom, pulled an oversized gray hoodie and worn denim jeans out of a hidden duffel bag, packed away his mask, and casually strolled right back out into the lobby as an invisible, ordinary civilian fan.

Now, the entire building was in absolute, unhinged pandemonium.

Venue Security: "Has anyone seen where he went?! How does a grown man in bright red spandex just evaporate inside a carpeted hallway?!"

News Reporter: "We are currently broadcasting live outside the convention center where Spider-Man has apparently vanished into thin air inside the LE SSERAFIM fan meeting! Is this an unannounced global promotional collaboration?!"

Backstage in the private dressing room, the five members were huddled tightly around a single smartphone screen, scrolling through the wild, trending disaster unfold on social media.

"Did he seriously just leave already?" Chaewon asked, squinting her eyes at a grainy fan-cam video of the lobby. "He didn't even stay to get his official photo card pack!"

"Maybe he got stuck inside the venue bathroom," Yunjin suggested with a booming laugh, tossing her hair back. "Imagine walking in to wash your hands and Spider-Man is just standing at the sink adjusting his mask in the mirror."

"Or maybe he crawled up into the air vents," Kazuha added smoothly with a thoughtful nod. "That's what spiders do, right? He’s probably crouching above the hallway watching everyone panic."

"Or maybe he completely blended into the fan crowd right now!" Eunchae chimed in with wide, amazed eyes. "That would be insane! He could literally be standing in line right next to someone right now and nobody would know!"

Sitting on the plush velvet sofa nearby, Sakura stared down at her phone screen in total silence. While the other members giggled and theorized, her thumb hovered quietly over a blurry, high-resolution photo of Spider-Man's masked face.

She swallowed softly, a strange, prickling sensation of ghost-like familiarity creeping down her spine.

"…Why do I feel like he’s still here?" Sakura murmured softly to herself, her eyes flickering away from the screen toward the dressing room door. "Like... he never actually left?"

The cool, crisp midnight breeze swept across the deserted skyscraper rooftop, rustling the heavy fabric of your dark street jacket as you stood near the concrete ledge. Far below, the glittering neon grid of the city stretched out like a vast, electric ocean, humming with the faint sound of late-night traffic.

Another demanding schedule had finally concluded. You had spent the last three hours crouching silently in the shadow of the lighting rigs outside the television studio, watching over LE SSERAFIM as they finished their late-night broadcast, making sure Sakura stepped safely into her management van. Now, it was time to slip away into the dark and return to your lonely, empty apartment.

Soft, hurried footsteps suddenly clicked against the concrete behind you.

You spun around instantly, your suit's white eye lenses narrowing in sharp surprise. Standing near the rusted metal rooftop access door was Sakura. She had no managers with her, no security team, and no fellow members—just her, wrapped in an oversized beige trench coat, her cheeks flushed a light pink from sprinting up the stairwell in the cold night air.

She stood her ground, her chest heaving with quiet, ragged breaths as she stared directly at your masked face.

"Take off the mask."

You remained completely frozen, the heavy silence stretching taut between the two of you. You didn't move an inch. You couldn't.

Seeing your complete inaction, Sakura took three slow, deliberate steps forward across the gravel-dusted roof. Her voice softened, completely stripping away her polished, professional idol poise, leaving behind a raw, fragile weight that cut straight through your chest.

"Please," she whispered, her dark eyes searching the blank, opaque white lenses of your suit. "I keep seeing you... at every venue, on every street corner, outside every hotel, in every city we travel to. And every single time I look at you... it feels like I’m forgetting something terrifyingly, painfully important."

She stopped just a few feet away—close enough that the cold night breeze carried the familiar, subtle scent of her peach perfume across the space between you. The exact same scent that used to linger on your spare hoodies.

"Do I know you?" Sakura asked softly, her voice trembling with an emotion she couldn't rationally explain. "Not Spider-Man. You. The person standing under that suit."

A long, agonizing silence settled over the rooftop. The distant wind howled softly between the surrounding glass towers.

When Sakura spoke again, her words came out even quieter, almost completely broken.

"Sometimes I get this overwhelming, suffocating feeling in my chest..." she admitted, pressing a trembling hand against her coat, her eyes glittering with unshed tears in the moonlight. "...like I used to love someone who wore that exact suit. But I don't know who you are. I don't love you—not the way that past version of me clearly did. So please... just tell me the truth."

She looked straight into your white lenses, demanding an answer to a question that shattered your heart into a thousand silent pieces.

"…Who were you to me?"