Renji Kurose | ACE OF HEARTS

The bass from the arena still seemed lodged beneath Renji’s ribs as he stepped through the hotel’s employee entrance, the last remnants of the encore following him like a second heartbeat. A black baseball cap sat low over his messy dark hair, shadowing his eyes, while an expensive leather jacket hung open and loose from his shoulders. Sweat still cooled against the back of his neck, and the adrenaline from the show had not fully left his body.

It was nearly midnight, but the hotel lobby remained busy. Staff hurried between luggage carts and service corridors, security guards spoke quietly into their earpieces, and a few determined fans lingered beyond the tall glass doors with their phones raised, hoping for one final glimpse of ACE OF HEARTS.

America’s louder than I expected.

Renji adjusted the strap of his duffel over one shoulder and lifted a paper cup of black coffee to his mouth. The drink was bitter, lukewarm, and somehow worse than what he had been served in the arena dressing room. His mouth twisted after the first swallow. “...Shit,” he muttered.

The others had already gone upstairs. Haru had been visibly finished with everyone by the time the van reached the hotel, which meant he was probably showered and asleep already. Jin had disappeared with enough room service to feed half the tour staff. Mino was almost certainly trying to convince Leo that sneaking out for burgers counted as cultural enrichment.

Management had spent the entire ride reminding them of the rules. ‘No leaving the hotel. No unapproved guests. No posting. No drinking in excess. No gambling. No disappearing.’ They mostly looked at Renji for the entire speech. And Renji had nodded through the lecture with the kind of respectful expression he only wore when he had no intention of listening. As if lecturing me ever worked.

He stopped beside a polished marble column and leaned against it, crossing one ankle over the other. Another city. Another luxury hotel carefully designed to look unique while somehow feeling exactly like the last one. Another night where he was expected to go quietly to his room, drink water, sleep eight hours, and behave like a responsible celebrity. Boredom settled in almost immediately. His fingers began drumming against the side of the coffee cup as his gaze moved lazily through the lobby. Renji liked watching people when they thought no one important was paying attention. The exhausted staff member fixing her name tag. The security guard fighting a yawn. The couple arguing in whispers near the elevators.

Then he noticed her. She stood out, effortlessly catching his attention. She was not staring openly, but something about the way her attention shifted made it clear she had already noticed him, or at least that’s how Renji perceived it.His characteristic smirk spread across his face.

“...Well,” he murmured, pushing away from the column. His gaze remained fixed on her as he started across the lobby, coffee and his managers rules already forgotten. “Kore wa omoshiroi.” (This is interesting) Looks like my night’s about to get a little less boring.

The hotel gym was almost empty, washed in pale morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, the city was only beginning to wake. The traffic was moving in thin streams far below, buildings softened by the faint haze of early morning. Inside, there was little more than the muted rhythm of the ventilation system, the quiet clink of metal, and the steady pulse of loud music leaking from Renji’s earbuds. Exactly how he liked it.

Most people were still asleep after the previous night’s concert. The show had run late, the post-performance debrief had run even later, and management had spent far too long reminding everyone about the morning schedule. None of it mattered to his body. Routine was routine, whether he was in Seoul, Tokyo, Los Angeles, or another American city he had barely had time to see. He finished the final repetition with controlled precision before racking the weights. Sweat traced slowly down the side of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his sleeveless black shirt. He grabbed the towel draped nearby and wiped it across the back of his neck, his breathing already beginning to steady. Everyone else can sleep. I’d rather not feel useless all morning.

He reached for his water bottle, but movement in the mirrored wall caught his attention first. A woman. And a beautiful one at that. His gaze shifted subtly toward her reflection. She was not hotel staff. She carried no radio, wore no security badge, and did not have the exhausted posture of one of the dancers. More interestingly, she did not appear particularly impressed by his presence. No obvious staring. No hurried attempt to take a photograph. No frozen expression of recognition. Renji’s brows lifted slightly. Interesting. That’s new.

He pulled one earbud free and let it hang against his chest. There was no hesitation as he crossed the gym, moving with the relaxed confidence of someone who had never needed an invitation to approach anyone. He stopped an arm’s length away, close enough to make the interaction intentional without crowding her completely. “You’re either very confident...” His dark eyes moved over her with shameless curiosity, and an amused smile touched the corner of his mouth. “...or you have absolutely no idea who I am.” He let the silence stretch for a moment, watching for the smallest change in her expression. Recognition, annoyance, nerves... really anything would do. Then he extended one hand toward her.

“Renji.”

The casual smile sharpened into the dangerous smirk cameras and fans had learned to recognize immediately. His head tilted slightly as he studied her unabashedly “What brings you here this early?”

The show ended in a blur of red lights, sweat, and twenty thousand voices crashing together hard enough to shake the arena walls.

By the time Renji stepped offstage, adrenaline was still burning beneath his skin, sharp and restless. His breathing had barely settled, his black stage shirt clung damply to his chest, and the roar of the crowd followed him into the narrow backstage corridor like an echo refusing to die. Someone pressed a towel into his hand. A stylist immediately began complaining about the state of his clothes, tugging once at the open collar before giving up with an irritated sigh.

Haru intercepted him long enough to remind him they had a press call at eight in the morning. Renji nodded as though that information mattered. Right now, there’s only one thing on his mind. Then Mino noticed where his attention kept drifting. “Already picked someone?” he asked, his grin widening with immediate understanding. Renji dragged the towel across the back of his neck and ignored him. There was no point answering. Mino already knew. Mino laughs when Renji doesn’t respond. “Of course you did.”

She was waiting near the restricted exit, exactly where Renji had told security to bring her. Good. He had noticed her during the second song. She had been close enough to the barricade that he could catch every shift in her expression beneath the flashing lights. The way she sang along, the way her attention stayed fixed on him, and of course the way she seemed to forget the rest of the stage whenever he looked directly at her. And Renji had made certain she knew he was looking at her too. He had held her gaze through most of the chorus, let his trademark smirk pull at his mouth, and watched realization settle over her face. By the encore, he had already sent a short message to security. Black top. Near the left barricade. Bring her to the west exit after the show.

Most women were fearless when there was a stage between them. They screamed his name, stared openly, and mouthed promises they would never repeat within touching distance. Then the fantasy became real. The lights dimmed, the crowd disappeared, and suddenly they remembered exactly who he was. A lot changed their mind... but many didn’t. She looked nervous now, or at least that’s what he assumed. He’s just glad she stayed and of course that only made him want her more. Renji slipped away before his managers could redirect him, still dressed in fitted black stage pants and the open shirt plastered to his sweat damp skin. When he reached her, he slowed deliberately, taking his time as his gaze moved over her from head to toe. Fuck.

A slow, cocky smile spread across his face. “You actually came,” he purred, the words warm with his usual effortless charm. His hand settled at the small of her back, guiding her away from the noise and into the quieter corridor beyond the exit. His thumb brushed once against her side, subtle but entirely intentional. Then he stopped. “If you’ve changed your mind,” he said, his voice dropping as he looked directly into her eyes, “you should let me know now.”