Flowers of Obsession

Soft breeze of Seoul, sweet sounding song of air, and beautiful weather. It was a good day for going out, to breathe in nature and hang out with people. That’s what you were doing in fact. You entered the café near the crossroad of the Big Center, that’s how people called the place near the entertainment companies. Inside, there was your friend already waiting for you. He had short hair, a cold look, but a sweet smile.

“Hey, Jongho,” you greeted him. He noticed your voice and turned around, to get up and hug you. You patted his back and grabbed his shoulder, to get a good look at him.

“Bro, it’s been a while, isn’t it?” he said, smiling. 

“It’s been two months? Yeah two months,” you nodded, walking to the table.

“I heard you’re trying to become a manager, so how is it going?”

“Ah, about that,” you sighed, throwing yourself to the chair. The mention of it brought a frown to your face, but you laughed about it. “The companies keep rejecting me. But it’s weird because the first time they sound interested and want to keep me for them and then, the time they recall me, I fail.”

“That’s very weird.”

“I know. It happened four times now. There must be something wrong.”

“There is no point in pondering about now. You should keep trying. Let’s get your mind off a bit,” said Jongho, sipping his coffee. The waiter came by and asked for your order. You wanted a latte, without any flavor, it would be fine for such a day.

You and your friend caught up with each other. His life as an idol was way more interesting than your job interviews, so he talked a lot more. The clock ticked, the people walked inside and outside, your cups emptied and so did the topics of your chat. The weather was still nice, but it slightly darkened.

“Well, I’ll be going now,” said Jongho as he made his way to the counter to pay. “Let’s go.”

You followed him outside the café but something caught your eye. A woman, slim and tall, with long hair, fine features, and plump lips, a fragrance of lavender hit you. You turned your body around. And then she was gone. She looked familiar, in the way she walked, in the glimpse of her eyes that you saw. They were chilling, big eyes, but dead.

“Do you need something?” asked Jongho.

“No, nothing,” you brushed it off. “I thought I saw someone but I got it wrong.”

“Okay.”

As you walked through the streets, you couldn’t help but notice the gigantic screens on top of the buildings, advertising everything from cosmetics to music and movies. Then you saw that face, those eyes. “Jongho,” you called him.

“What?”

“Who is she?” you pointed at the building.

“Oh, that’s Wonyoung. She’s an idol and a model. From Ive, if I remember correctly,” he said, raising his eyes, he puckered his lips as if expecting some kind of reaction from you. “Do you know her?”

“I don’t,” you lied.

Another day, another rejection. You walked out of the umpteenth entertainment company that rejected you. It had the same pattern, the same answer, the same events. It looked like a time loop. Now you were shooting for the less famous companies, they were almost unknown but still didn’t want you. It wasn’t like they had much choice, didn’t they? Then why would they kick you out like that?

You kicked the soda can on your way out. The weather was even sunnier than yesterday, as if mocking you, to show you everyone having a good time and not you. You sighed. That’s just how life is.

Taking out your notebook, you glanced at the companies remaining. The only options were the newfound ones, unknown and even without artists. Minimal pay. There was no other option. You crossed out the other names, Hybe, Mystic story, Fantagio, and stopped at Starship. You haven’t paid it a visit yet. 

Whatever. 

It will have the same result. 

Crossed out.

“Excuse me,” you heard. You turned around and saw a girl. Not just a girl. That girl.

“Hello, I’m Wonyoung,” she started. “Were you looking for a job as a manager?”

“Yes,” you said and looked around. There wasn’t anyone suspicious apart from her. There weren’t bodyguards, cameras, producers, nothing. “Can I help you?”

“I was wondering… if you would be interested in being a manager for a group in Starship entertainment,” said Wonyoung, offering you a customer service smile. Her lips rose up and her lips spread in a smile, but her eyes sharpened to look at you. They were examining your face as much as you were examining hers.

You were euphoric. The chance came knocking at your door. 

Your saviour.

“I do,” you said. You brushed off all the suspicion. 

“That’s perfect. Are you free now? Were you having a job interview there?” The question was oddly specific. But it was right.

“Yes, I’m free now.”

“That’s good. If you’d come with me, I can bring you to the building and we can officialize your job,” said Wonyoung, walking away. You followed her to a black van, black windows, black wheels. You couldn’t see inside, but when she knocked, the doors opened. “Come inside.”

You nodded and sat on the leather seats. The building started moving, blurred by the speed. The car was going to the big center. 

“What is the group I will manage?” you asked. Wonyoung grinned, a true smug this time, and looked at you through the glass reflection. 

“The group is called Ive. It’s my group,” she said. “You will like it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

The car stopped after a couple of minutes. You got out of the car and patted your clothes, looking at the building. It was enormous. Just like the other ones. Everything stood around you like stone guardians, looking down at the small human you were. The other windows and signs looked at you with curiosity, the same ones that rejected you, and the one in front of you, the one that accepted you. 

The driver came out and opened the door for Wonyoung, she stepped out and gestured to you to follow her.

She walked through the reception and the hallways without being interrupted by anyone. The people bowed at her presence and stepped aside. Your destination was on the fourth floor, where she brought you to an office. 

“Good morning, sir,” Wonyoung called the man at the opposite side of the room.

“Good morning, Ms. Jang,” he replied.

“This is who I was talking about,” she said, raising a hand at you. “He will be the manager of our group.”

“About that…” he started, a slight tremble in his voice, “I think it would be better to keep our previous man. He’s used to the job and…”

“And?” she interrupted him. Her voice was high in pitch, it was silky but sharp as a knife. It cut through his words straight to his ears, to puncture his eardrums. He gulped and rested his head on his hands.

“Well,” he tried to say, but it stopped in his throat. He coughed. “As we agreed, he will be the manager. Welcome to Starship entertainment, sir.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you stuttered.