Under the Spotlight

John’s phone rang.

“Hey, John. How’s Aria now?” Mei asked. “Did she get any better after hearing the news?”

John exhaled slowly. “We sedated her that day. She wouldn’t stop crying. When she woke up, we told her not to attend the gala—but she said she wanted to go. For Rika.”

Mei went quiet for a moment before speaking again. “John, I got classified details from our sources in the police. Rika’s body was missing several internal organs. Most noticeably—her eyes.”

She paused. “Your theory checked out.”

John closed his eyes briefly. “I was hoping I’d be wrong. Poor girls. Did you find anything about the uncle or their mother?”

“That case is old,” Mei said. “Their mother, Ikumi, and their uncle, Benjamin Kingsley, disappeared without any prior signs of conflict. No arguments. No financial disputes. Nothing. The police interrogated their father, the house staff—everyone close to them. Every statement described them as a happy family.”

She continued, “Benjamin even lived with them for a while. Then one night, both he and Ikumi vanished. Seven years later, by law, Samuel became the owner of Benjamin’s shares as well. There’s practically nothing in the file.” She hesitated. “Just one thing.”

John straightened. “What?”

“The report says the last person known to be in the house the night they disappeared was Aria. She was only five years old. She didn’t see anything—she was crying nonstop. Rina was in the hospital with a broken bone, and Samuel was there with her.”

“Hm,” John murmured, turning the information over in his mind.

Mei broke the silence. “Where are the sisters right now?”

“They’re getting dressed,” John replied. “Hair and makeup for the gala. We’ll be leaving in twenty minutes.”

“Be extra careful,” Mei warned. “There will be at least eight hundred staff members present—and no cameras are allowed inside.”

“I know, I know,” John said. “I’ve been there five times already. I wore my fancy suit for it.”

“Still,” Mei said softly. “Good luck, John.”

The call ended.

*****

“Welcome back to the live broadcast of the annual Bet Gala on JNN News,” the announcer said. “This is your hosts—Gil Fujisawa, Masato Kiriya, and Akira Kanata.”

“What a lovely event this has been,” Masato said. “We’ve seen so many gorgeous celebrities tonight in truly heavenly dresses.”

“Yes, Masato,” Gil replied. “As always, the Bet Gala is the event that captures the world’s attention—everyone watching just to see their favorite stars in their most stylish looks. What do you think, Akira?”

“They’re all stunning,” Akira said honestly. “I’m speechless.”

“Another limo has just arrived,” Masato added.

John exited the car first, his eyes sweeping the crowd in a practiced scan. Once satisfied, he signaled to the sisters.

The moment Rina and Aria stepped out, the photographers erupted into a frenzy, shouting their names.

“Look who’s here, folks—it’s the Kingsleys!” Gil announced.

Akira leaned closer to the mic. “Ohh—and is that her bodyguard? We heard some leaks after that practice incident that she hired one, but—oof—he’s hot. Did she hire him from a modeling agency?”

Gil laughed. “If he had long hair, he’d definitely be my type.”

The sisters posed for the cameras. Rina wore a sharp, tailored suit—elegant, powerful, every inch the manager. Aria stood beside her in a black dress, a red R—the symbol of Red Rising—embroidered over her heart.

John moved to the edge of the carpet, positioning himself near the entrance stairs, just outside the photo zone.

“Rina is serving a full girl-boss look tonight,” Masato said. His voice softened. “And our beloved Aria… wearing a black dress with her former idol group’s logo, Red Rising.”

Gil nodded. “Let’s not forget, folks—one of the missing idols from that group, Rika Murasaki, was recently found dead. The killer, now known as the Velvet Reaper—”

Akira cut in gently. “Yes. But tonight, let’s not let this glamorous event cast a shadow over this tragedy. We love you, Rika. Rest in peace. Our thoughts and prayers go to her family and loved ones.”

As the cameras continued flashing, Rina spotted Ryo in the crowd. She gave a small nod. Moments later, her fiancé stepped past John and into the frame. Rina gracefully moved aside as Ryo wrapped an arm around Aria. They kissed for the cameras.

“What a lovely couple,” Akira said. “They really show unity—something other couples here could learn from.”

Ryo leaned down and whispered something in Aria’s ear, then hurried up the entrance stairs without waiting for her. As he passed John, he placed a hand briefly on his shoulder. “I brought my own bodyguard too, Mr. Mercer,” Ryo said coolly. “You don’t need to worry about her when I’m here.” Then he was gone.

As Aria lifted her dress to climb the stairs, John extended his hand toward her. She looked up at him—surprised—and a faint glimmer appeared in her eyes, followed by a subtle smile.

“Wow,” Gil said. “That’s class.”

“That,” Akira agreed, “is a true gentleman bodyguard.”

With John’s hand in hers, Aria stepped forward—and together, they entered the gala.

*****

Inside the gala, John stood near the walls and pillars like the other bodyguards, maintaining full visual contact with Aria. She was seated alone at a small round table set for three.

John’s attention sharpened when he noticed a waiter approaching her, one hand hidden behind his back. He crossed the distance in seconds.

The waiter stopped, startled, revealing a wine bottle in his grip. John took it calmly, poured a small amount into a glass, and took a brief sip. Aria watched him with curiosity.

“It’s fine,” John said, handing the bottle back. “You may go. Sorry.”

The waiter nodded and left quickly. Aria tilted her head. “Could you stay here with me, John? I feel a little lonely.”

“Bodyguards aren’t supposed to sit at the table, Aria—”

She cut him off. “Then sit. Rina and Ryo won’t be back anytime soon. They’re networking. That’s important for their work.”

John hesitated, scanned the room once more, then finally pulled out the chair beside her and sat. Aria rested her chin in her palm, elbow on the table, gazing off absentmindedly.

John followed her line of sight—to Ryo, across the room, laughing and flirting with several female celebrities.

Aria noticed where John was looking. “I know it doesn’t look like it,” she said quietly, “but when we first started dating, he cared. Truly. He was the only one who wasn’t intimidated by who I was or where I came from. No man ever approached me before that.”

She gave a faint smile. “People said it was because I was too beautiful. That I scared them off.”

John glanced at her. “Was that all? Just the fact that he approached you?”

She shook her head. “He’s good at what he does. His production company grew a lot after he took over—after his mother passed away.” Her voice softened. “After I said yes to his proposal, though… he changed. Everything became performative. Let’s hug in front of this camera. Let’s kiss in front of that one.”

She looked down. “But when he was my boyfriend, every outing felt exciting. I don’t know if it’s because he was my first, but… I still feel like he’s the one for me. Even now. Him talking to other women—I know, deep down, he’s faithful.”

John studied her for a long moment before speaking. “There’s no such thing as ‘the one,’ Aria,” he said calmly. “We search for someone who fits what we desire most, then we label them as one, when in reality, there are thousands of people who could be right for us.”

Aria’s eyes lifted to his. “Then who else would love me for me? Not for my status and not for my family’s money. Just… me.”

John saw the sadness in her eyes—and heard it in her voice. He gently changed the subject. “How many times have you attended the Bet Gala?”

She straightened slightly. “Once before. Why?”

“This place has a gallery and museum section,” John said, leaning in a little. “Not everyone gets access to it. Thought you might want to see it.”

Her face lit up. “Let’s go.”

As they walked, John stayed a step behind her. She glanced back. “Why are you so far?”

“In the museum section,” he explained, “bodyguards are required to stay within ten feet of their client.”

She immediately closed the distance, looping her arm through his. “This is how I feel safest. You being as close as possible to me.” John froze for half a second then allowed himself to move with her.

Across the room, Rina—mid-conversation with another guest—noticed how close they were.

*****

After finishing the museum tour, Aria was escorted to a secured lounge to check her final makeup and microphone fitting, preparing for her performance. Meanwhile, John inspected the stage area, confirming sightlines and emergency exits.

Guests soon took their seats as the lights dimmed. When Aria was introduced, the room erupted in cheers. She stepped up to the microphone. “This event is special to me,” Aria said, her voice steady but soft. “Tonight, I want to dedicate this performance to my best friend. She loved this song… so this is for her.”

As the music began, John didn’t take his eyes off her for a single second.

Halfway through the performance, Rina appeared beside him, watching Aria onstage. Without looking at him, she spoke in a low voice. “What exactly are you doing, Mr. Mercer?”

“My job,” John replied evenly. Rina turned her head slightly. “Does your job include holding her hand and getting lovey-dovey with her?” John didn’t answer.

“Do you know what would happen if someone recorded that?” she continued, her voice calm but sharp. “If a photo leaked? The tabloids would tear her apart. It would damage her image—immensely.” John started to speak. “I—”

“Didn’t you see how she reacted to her friend’s death?” Rina cut in. “She can’t handle that kind of mental pressure right now. Don’t add to it.”

She finally looked at him directly. “She has a fiancé. Someone meant to stand beside her, hold her hand and warm her bed. You are here to protect her. Nothing more.” Her tone hardened. “I’m saying this as her older sister and her manager. Know your place. Do we understand each other, Mr. Mercer?”

John exhaled quietly. “Yes. I understand.”

“Good,” Rina said, and walked away.

*****

When Aria’s performance ended, the entire audience rose to their feet in a standing ovation.

Backstage, a foreign politician approached her, accompanied by her young daughter. “My daughter adores your work,” the woman said warmly. “She wanted to meet you so much. She lost her eyesight in an accident a few years ago. Recently, we traveled to the Middle East—she received an eye donation there. Thanks to that, she can see again.”

Aria knelt slightly to meet the girl’s height. “What’s your name?”

“Jasmine,” the girl replied shyly.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Aria said with a gentle smile. “Just like you.”

“Could you sign my autograph?” Jasmine asked.

“Of course.” Aria took the card, then paused. “How do your new eyes feel? Do you like them?”

“I love them,” Jasmine said happily. “They look dark, but when Mommy and Daddy take pictures, my eyes turn purple.”

John’s attention snapped instantly to Aria. Aria froze for a fraction of a second, studying the girl’s eyes. “My friend’s eyes were like that too,” she murmured. She kissed Jasmine gently on the forehead, handed her the autograph, bowed to both mother and daughter, and walked away toward the lounge.

“I want to get ready so we can leave,” Aria said quietly to John. “I don’t feel well. I just want to go back to the hotel.” John nodded. “Alright. Get ready. We’ll leave as soon as you are.”

*****

As Aria exited the lounge, John was approaching from the opposite corridor, finishing a final sweep to clear the exit. That was when he saw it. Above Aria, a massive stage spotlight—one of the heavy industrial rigs—was shaking. Wobbling.

“Aria!” John shouted.

He sprinted forward, grabbed her, and shoved her backward just as the spotlight tore loose. John twisted, throwing his body over hers.

The light crashed to the floor with a metallic explosion, glass and debris scattering as the impact sent shockwaves through the hall.

People screamed. Security rushed in from every direction, pulling clients away, shouting orders, sealing off the area.

John pushed himself up just enough to look down at her. “Are you okay, Aria?”

She stared up at him, breathless, still trapped beneath him. “Yes… I am.” She lifted her hand, gently touching his face. “Are you okay?”

Before he could answer, Rina and Ryo rushed toward them.

“Oh my God—Aria!” Rina dropped to her knees beside her. “Sweetheart, are you hurt?”

Ryo wasn’t looking at Aria. He was looking around; fury etched across his face. 

A man in a black security suit approached him. “Where the hell were you?” Ryo snapped. “You were supposed to have your eyes on her!”

John stood quickly, helping Aria to her feet. As Ryo stepped aside, his line of sight cleared and his blood ran cold.

The security guard’s face came fully into view. John moved instantly, stepping in front of Aria, one arm stretched protectively behind him. “Stay back,” he said quietly.

The guard smiled. “Well, hello, Johnny boy. Long time no see.”

John’s jaw tightened. His voice hardened into something unyielding. “What are you doing here?”