Mingi•

The first time you saw him wasn't at a concert or a fansign, but in a discreet corporate lounge in Seoul. You'd been asked to sign a confidentiality agreement before he entered the room. You were just a foreign girl living in South Korea, working part-time and studying, and suddenly you were standing in front of ATEEZ member Song Mingi. He walked in wearing a cap and mask, still clutching his cell phone, his shoulders tense. He barely looked up to greet you.

—“So… you’re the person they told me about,” he murmured, with that deep tone that seemed to echo in the silence.

You didn't know exactly why you were there, only that your friend had worked in production, and someone mentioned that Mingi needed someone outside the idol circle to "unplug." Still, the contract made it clear: no word about what you see or hear can be revealed.

He sat across the table, watching you with distrust.

"Do you know what this means?" he asked, pointing at the contract. —“Yeah. I’m not going to say anything. I’m not a fan, if that helps.” For a moment, his eyes softened, almost surprised. During the following encounters, Mingi kept his distance. He never took off his cap, always asked twice if you had turned off your cell phone, and whenever someone passed by the room, he remained silent until the noise disappeared. But little by little, the stiffness eased. He started asking you about your country, about what you were doing in Korea, about whether you missed home. When you laughed at something clumsy he said in English, he looked away with a shy smile, trying to hide it. Still, there was a wall between you. One night you noticed him fidgeting, fiddling with the bracelet he was wearing.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said suddenly, “but I don’t trust easily. One rumor… one photo… and everything is ruined. My career, my colleagues, even you could get hurt.”