Opposing Forces — (Babymonster) Asa x Anna (Meovv)

The air in YG’s main conference room was sterile, chilled by overactive air conditioning that made the long, polished table feel like a slab of ice. On one side, BABYMONSTER sat in a line of practiced casualness—hoodies, slouched postures, the quiet rustle of sneakers against floor. On the other, MEOVV arranged themselves with the unconscious symmetry of former models and trained dancers—backs straight, hands in laps, expressions of polite attention. Managers and production staff lined the walls like shadows, a silent audience to a meeting that felt, to Asa, vaguely like a tribunal.

She leaned back in her chair, the front legs lifting off the ground a centimeter. Her left hand fidgeted with the thick silver ring on her middle finger, turning it around and around. The silence was a live wire. Across the table, directly in her sigh-line, Anna sat as if posing for a portrait. One leg was crossed over the other, a sleek black pump dangling precariously from her toe. Her hands were folded on the table, nails a perfect, neutral shell. She hadn’t blinked in what felt like an eternity.

The door swung open and Teddy Park ambled in, a storm of casual authority in a faded black hoodie and a cap pulled low. He carried a paper cup of coffee, took a long sip, and grinned at the room.

“Morning. Or, whatever time it is,” he said, his voice a familiar, gravelly comfort. He didn’t sit. He perched on the edge of the table near the head, looking at the two lines of young women. “You’re all probably wondering why I called you here instead of just texting. It’s because this is stupid. And fun. And I hate explaining fun things over text.”

A ripple of amused curiosity went through both groups. Ahyeon leaned forward, leader’s instinct engaged. Gawon tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Netflix came to us,” Teddy continued, gesturing with his coffee cup. “They want a show. A month-long show. Not a competition. A… collision.” His eyes swept the room. “We’re taking the old building on the back lot—the one that smells like 2003 and mothballs—and we’re turning it into a house. A creative dorm. Upstairs, bedrooms. Downstairs, kitchen, living room, practice room, a small studio. You,” he pointed at BABYMONSTER, then at MEOVV, “and you. Living together. For one month.”

The silence broke into a wave of startled murmurs. Eyes widened. Whispers crisscrossed the table.

“Live together?” Ruka echoed, a grin spreading.

“For a month?” Ella from MEOVV asked, her voice genuinely curious.

“Are there cameras?” Pharita questioned, ever-practical.

“Everywhere,” Teddy confirmed, not unkindly. “But not like you think. This isn’t BLACKPINK HOUSE. It’s a documentary. The point isn’t the show. The point is what happens when you stop being two separate groups and start being one big, messy, creative pile.”

He took another sip, letting the idea settle. “The goal is a collaborative mini-album. Six tracks. Written, produced, performed by all of you. In that house. The show films the process—the arguments, the stupid late-night snack runs, the moment a melody clicks at 2 AM because someone was humming in the shower.”

He leaned forward, his tone shifting, becoming more intense. “I don’t want idol politics. I don’t want two groups being painfully polite to each other for a month. That’s boring. I want you in each other’s faces. I want you arguing about a bridge because you actually care. I want the kind of music that happens when people stop performing and start being… real. Even if real is kind of annoying.”

The excitement in the room was now palpable, a physical vibration. Members started whispering across the table, boundaries dissolving.

“We can use the studio anytime?” Chiquita asked, her eyes alight.

“Anytime,” Teddy nodded.

“What about cooking? Who cooks?” Rami wondered aloud.

“Figure it out,” Teddy shrugged, smiling. “That’s the whole point. You figure it out.”

Amidst the burgeoning chaos of plans and questions, the narrative lens narrowed, sharpening to a single point of stillness.

Asa hadn’t moved. The front legs of her chair were still airborne. Her ring was still turning. Her gaze had never left the one point of equal stillness in the room.

Anna.

Anna, who had also not joined the chatter. Who had simply uncrossed her legs and recrossed them the other way, a motion so slow and deliberate it seemed to warp time. Her hands remained folded, but her thumbs were now pressing together, hard. Her expression was a masterpiece of neutral composure, but her eyes—dark, unblinking—were locked on Asa’s.

A silent, charged circuit completed between them, humming over the din of their teammates’ voices.

One month, Asa thought, the words cold and clear in her mind. A whole month in a fishbowl. With her.

One building, Anna’s mind supplied, equally cold. Every room, every hallway. Nowhere to hide.

Teddy pushed off the table, draining his coffee. “You move in Saturday. Pack light. But pack… honestly.” He crumpled the cup, made a perfect shot into a trash can in the corner. “See you there.”

As he left, the room erupted into proper noise. Chairs scraped as members stood, crossing to the other side to talk, laughing, already planning. The space between Asa and Anna filled with moving bodies, but for a three-second window, the line of sight remained clear.

Neither looked away.

Neither smiled.

Saturday morning dawned bright and harsh over the converted YG building. It stood three stories tall, old red brick weathered by Seoul smog and time, but with new, large windows cut into the ground floor. A faint hum of activity buzzed around it—camera crews in branded black shirts lugging equipment, producers with clipboards, a stylist rolling a rack of clothes up a temporary ramp.

Asa arrived first, a single large duffel bag slung over her shoulder, a travel mug of Americano in her hand. She wore loose, black cargo pants and an oversized grey hoodie, a cap pulled low over her eyes. She surveyed the building with a critic’s squint. “It looks like a factory that makes anxiety,” she muttered to no one.

The BABYMONSTER van pulled away, and she was joined by Ahyeon, Ruka, Rami, Pharita, Rora and Chiquita, each with their own luggage. A minute later, the MEOVV van arrived. Anna emerged first, and the very air seemed to change texture. She wore cream-colored, wide-legged linen trousers and a simple black tank top, a thin silver necklace catching the light. She carried a matching set of hard-shell luggage—a large one she wheeled, a smaller one perched atop it—and a leather tote. She looked less like she was moving into a dorm and more like she was arriving for a curated photo shoot at a boutique hotel. Sooin, Gawon, Narin and Ella followed, their energy brighter, chattering loudly.

The two groups converged in the open-plan ground floor. It was, Asa had to admit, cool. Exposed brick walls, polished concrete floors softened by huge, worn Persian rugs. A modern kitchen with a massive island took up one side, opposite a sunken living area piled with mismatched but incredibly plush-looking sofas and floor cushions. Doors led off to what looked like a practice room with mirrored walls and a smaller, professional-looking recording studio.

“This is insane,” Ruka breathed, spinning in a circle.

“The couch is so deep I could get lost in it,” Pharita said, already falling backward into it.

While the others explored, the leaders instinctively gathered. Ahyeon caught Gawon’s eye. A silent, significant look passed between them. With subtle head tilts, each group drifted into a separate huddle in opposite corners of the living area.

BABYMONSTER’s huddle was a knot of suppressed glee.

“So,” Ahyeon whispered, her eyes sparkling. “We all agree?”

Rora bit her lip. “This is mean.”

“This is necessary,” Rami corrected, her face solemn.

Pharita nodded sagely. “For science.”

Chiquita, arms crossed, looked between her members and the MEOVV huddle across the room. “For peace. If they fight it out in close quarters, maybe they’ll finally shut up about each other. Asa mentioned Anna three times in meetings last week. I counted.”

Rami’s grin was wicked. “Two-person room. The one at the end of the hall. Farthest from everyone.”

Asa, returning from a reconnaissance mission to the kitchen where she’d confirmed the coffee machine’s quality, walked back into the living room. She saw the tail end of the huddle breaking, her members wearing identical masks of exaggerated innocence.

“What?” Asa asked, suspicious.

“Nothing!” they chimed in unison, a chorus of guilt.

Across the room, the MEOVV huddle was a mirror image.

“It’s the only logical solution,” Gawon was saying, her voice low.

“It’s diabolical,” Sonin whispered, delighted.

“She packed her skincare in alphabetical order,” Ella murmured, glancing at Anna, who was calmly inspecting the joinery on a kitchen cabinet. “She will not survive Asa’s… ecosystem.”