“A New Normal”

It had been nearly two months since the incident that felt like a lifetime. The furious humiliation of the firing, the terror of the break-in, and the searing bitterness of her final confrontation with Ren had faded into the quiet, dull ache of a fully healed scar.

The biggest change in Airi's life, ironically, wasn't the music; it was the return to stability, albeit on a vastly different scale. Thanks to Saki's tireless efforts, Airi had secured a new, quiet job at a small, independent business specializing in music and art monographs.

Saki, utilizing her extensive network and relentless charm, had framed Airi’s exit from the corp not as a scandal, but as an "unavoidable necessity to pursue a higher-level, specialized organizational role" in a more creatively flexible environment.

The new office was small, filled with dusty, wonderful books and the smell of ink and old paper. Her cubicle was replaced by a cozy corner desk next to a window overlooking a quiet park. She was paid less than her other job, but she was entirely anonymous, and her professional reputation was slowly being rebuilt, brick by quiet brick.

She had also finally managed to move back into her own apartment after installing industrial-grade locks and a video intercom system. Neko was thrilled to be home, patrolling the familiar surfaces with renewed territorial pride.

Airi sat at her new desk, meticulously organizing the metadata for a collection of translated short stories. The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. She hummed softly as she worked, a comfortable, wordless melody that was purely for herself—not for a track list, not for a collaborator, and certainly not for an idol.

Her phone, sitting innocently on the corner of the desk, suddenly buzzed with a news alert with a notification she usually ignored, but this one carried an unmistakable name.

Airi hesitated, then reluctantly tapped the screen. The article was from one of the major entertainment portals.

The headline was explosive: "FORMER CHILD IDOL HARU SAITO IMPLICATED IN REN ICHIJŌ SCANDAL: CHARGED WITH HARASSMENT AND LEAKING PRIVATE INFORMATION."

Airi quickly skimmed the body of the text. Apparently, the individual who had taken the initial, viral kissing photo, and the one who had attempted to break into her apartment, was not a random obsessive fan, but a paparazzo allegedly working for an organized ring run by Haru Saito, an idol from Ren’s boyband past. The motivation cited was a toxic cocktail of professional envy and personal resentment aimed squarely at disrupting Ren's comeback.

Airi let the phone drop softly onto the desk.

The realization was stunning. The whole devastating chain of events: the firing, the humiliation, the terror hadn't been a random act of fandom, but a calculated attack. She hadn't been the target; she had merely been the most fragile, exposed vulnerability of the actual target, Ren.

She looked at the elegant script on the computer screen, the name of a respected music artist, and a profound weariness settled over her. The handsome faces, the dazzling smiles, the carefully choreographed comebacks, it was all a brutal, lethal game played with real-world consequences. Even the seemingly polished, successful idols were capable of such calculated, petty violence.

Idols can be so lethal, even if they are handsome, she thought, the absurdity of the situation almost comical. She glanced at the photo accompanying the article—a severe-looking mugshot of Haru Saito. Then, scrolling down, she saw a new, recent photo of Ren, looking drawn and serious as he arrived at his agency, his manager Junpei looking even more harried than usual.

Airi deliberately closed the news tab. She didn't feel vindication, or even a sense of justice, just a cold finality. The revelation didn't change the fact that Ren had abandoned her when she needed him most, nor did it change the fact that she had lost her career because of his world's toxic nature.

She had made a conscious choice to ignore all news involving Ren. Her silence was her shield. She hadn't responded to the formal, stiffly worded legal letter from Junpei—the one offering "substantial compensation for emotional distress and loss of income" (a figure she had to admit was enormous). She simply filed it away, unopened. She refused to monetize her pain; she was determined to earn her way back to security on her own terms.

Her attention shifted, happily, to the near future. A small, vibrant reminder was stuck to her monitor with a colorful paper clip: "SAKI TRIP NEXT WEEKEND!"

After their reconciliation, Saki had been relentless in her mission to restore Airi's joy. The upcoming trip; a two-day escape to a quiet seaside town south of Tokyo was Saki's most recent effort, a mandatory celebration of Airi’s new, stable chapter.

A soft smile touched Airi’s lips. That was what she had to look forward to: friendship, stability, and the quiet beauty of a new beginning.She picked up the manuscript, the flow of her work calming her. The chaotic fire was out, replaced by a warm, steady glow.

She tapped her pen on the desk, beginning to hum again, the melody slowly taking shape. Her comeback wasn't going to be splashy or public; it was going to be subtle, built on the solid foundation of her own peace. She had other things to look forward to now.