Equivalent Exchange

You’re sitting on a bench near the campus’s main gate, waiting for Gaeul to finish her last lecture. The afternoon sun is warm and there’s an air-conditioned shelter about ten meters away, but your attention is locked on your phone, scrolling through Velora’s company profile. You’ve already finished researching Elysium Collective and based on what you can gather, it’s too small, too niche, with almost no opportunities for someone like your dearest girlfriend.

Specifically, they deal with fashion wear for people aged fifty and above. You question yourself if there’s even a market for this age group, but hey, you’re not judging. They’ve been around for over sixty years and are still going strong. Although, they’re the least of your concern, since it would feel weird seeing a young, attractive person modelling elderly wear. No hate to them, but it just doesn’t fit what Gaeul needs.

“Velora…” you mumble, scrolling down the site. The deeper you go, the more your eyebrows furrow. Standard fashion and commercial work. Everything looks clean on paper: decent contracts for beginners, slow-to-modest progression, but very limited high-paying campaigns. However, their repertoire feels strangely limited for a top modelling agency in the country. You fear that your plans to protect and elevate Gaeul may backfire if you approach Velora.

You sigh and switch tabs. The last one on the list is Lumina Atelier. You scroll through their portfolio with focused intensity, vetting them in a similar fashion as to how you evaluated the other two. You’re not a professional investigator at all, hell you’re looking at them like you’re researching for a job interview. But sometimes, that’s enough.

“Oh…” you hum softly, eyebrows raising and dropping at irregular intervals. Unlike the others, Lumina is aggressive and broad — high-end fashion, lingerie, commercial shoots for food products, vehicles, lifestyle brands, and even some biotech-related modelling. They’re rising fast, with actual high-paying campaigns and real visibility.

Impressive.

Out of the three, Lumina is the only one with genuine potential.

You’re still comparing the agencies when someone suddenly drops down beside you on the bench.

“Whatcha looking at so seriously?”

You nearly drop your phone. Sakura is there, and you mean like she’s-seated-right-beside you there. She grins as she leans over with open curiosity. You quickly tilt the screen away from her sight and lock the screen, sliding the phone into your pocket.

“Sakura… hey. What are you doing here?”

“You’re sus.” She frowns at you, but shrugs anyway. Leaning back on the backrest, she swings her legs lightly. “Waiting for Jihoon to pick me up for our ‘date’.” She makes lazy air quotes with her fingers. “He’s late again.”

“Sakura…”

“Hmm?” she gives you a puzzled look.

You look at your thighs, appreciating the creases on your pants as you hesitate for a moment, then decide to be direct.

“Why are you still with him? Despite… everything.”

Sakura raises an eyebrow, then lets out a short, tired laugh.

“Straight to it, huh?” She stares up at the sky for a moment, mouth open as she takes in a deep pondering breath. “Honestly? Mostly for the sex. Jihoon has a really thick cock, and his bed skills are insane. When he fucks me right, I cum so hard it feels wonderful. Like my whole body lights up. I haven’t found another guy who can make me feel that good, that consistently.”

She says it so casually, without shame, but there’s a hint of tiredness underneath.

“Are you even finding?” you ask.

“I…” she looks back down, legs swinging a little faster. Then she glances at you, her expression turning more serious. “I know what happened to Sullyoon too. Don’t ask me how and why. I’m not saying anything. I can’t. I’m already in his palms as well. Plus, it’s not that easy to leave now. We’ve been together for a while. I already know too many of his secrets. If I try to pull away, he can make things very difficult for me… and for my family.”

She gives a small, resigned shrug.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to stay. Even if I know he only sees me as a toy to play with when he feels like it.”

You stare at her, frustration building.

“He’s a really shitty guy, Sakura. You should leave him.”

Sakura gives you a small, almost pitying smile. “You’re asking because of Gaeul, right? You’re scared that if she gets deeper into modeling and ends up around Jihoon, she might end up like Sullyoon or me, bullied, used, but too weak to do anything about it because of their position.”

You keep silent, but that silence says nothing, something, and everything.

Sakura stands up slowly as a familiar sports car pulls up in the distance. “Look… this world doesn’t like heroes. If you’re planning to do something stupid, make sure what… and who you’re doing it for is worth it.” Her voice softens a little. “I know how much you love Gaeul. And how much she loves you back. So don’t break her heart, okay?”

“Hey what’s that supposed to mean?”

Sakura walks forward as Jihoon’s car stops nearby, ignoring your question. He winds down the window and calls out lazily.

“Kkura! Get in.”

His eyes flick to you for a second. He makes a crude, filthy gesture with his tongue, then laughs.

“I’ll send you more stuff soon, Minjae. You’ll love it.”

You flip him a middle finger as Sakura rolls her eyes, walking towards the car without another word. She gets in, and they speed off.

You sit there for a long moment after they disappear, mulling over Sakura’s words. You don’t know if she meant to steer you in a particular direction, but she sure as hell did.

You sigh and pull out your phone again, heading back to Lumina Atelier’s page. Out of the three, it’s the only one with real potential — broader scope, faster growth, actual high-paying campaigns. Everything looks believable, and that’s your best bet other than entering NOVATION, the den of lions itself.

You stare at the contact button for a while.

Finally, with steady fingers, you open up their enquiry page and type, inserting your campus email as the point of contact.

Email Address:
minjae_ahn@xxxx.student.com
General Enquiry:
I want to talk. I’m interested in working with you.

You hit send.

A notification in your email inbox comes almost instantly.

From: no-reply@luminaatelier.la.com
Dear Mr. Ahn Minjae,

Tomorrow. 3 PM.
Our main office.
Come alone.

This is an automated computer-generated response, please do not reply to this email.

You stare at the screen, heart pounding with a dangerous mix of dread and determination.

This is it.

🎵 Next station, City Hall. The doors will open on the right. 🎵

The familiar subway jingle comes right after the announcement. You glance at your mobile phone — 02:34 P.M. Seems like you’ll be early. You stare at the continuous, blurry smudge of concrete and light through the subway train’s window. Your reflection is surprisingly clear despite the constant flashing strobe of lights, and you raise your hands to your neck, adjusting your tie as you tighten it. Your hands are wet and clammy — an obvious sign of nervousness.

Why wouldn’t you be?

The next thing you know, you’re standing right outside Lumina Atelier, neck raised high as you marvel at the scale of the building. You’ve already seen the building through images on the Internet, with numerous reviews emphasising on its sheer scale and size. But seeing it upfront with your own eyes? There’s only one thought through your mind.

It’s big. Like really big.

Hell, you can’t even see the organisation’s building signage even if your neck lifts by more than 180 degrees. You can’t help but wonder how they managed to gather such power and influence despite only being established two years ago. Building something on such a large scale would have taken a year and a half — unless they contracted like every construction company in the country.