Twelve women, one man, one explicit understanding. No more secrets, no more pretending. This is what it is. And Choerry wants something none of them expected.
Early February
Haseul started showing up more frequently after you’d asked for those few days to yourself back in late January.
It began innocuously enough—she’d text asking if she could come by, help you finish unpacking, organize the kitchen properly. You’d agreed, grateful for the help and the company.
But then she started staying longer. Through dinner. Through the evening. Sometimes overnight.
“The dorm is too stressful,” she’d explained one night, curled up on your newly organized couch. “Everyone’s on edge waiting for the next injunction results. All the uncertainty. I just need somewhere quiet. Somewhere stable.”
“You’re always welcome here.”
“Thank you.” She’d leaned against you. “You make everything feel manageable.”
That night, she’d slipped into your bed seeking comfort. Not aggressively, not demanding—just needing closeness, needing release from the constant stress.
“Help me forget for a little while,” she’d whispered.
You had. Gentle, intimate, exactly what she needed. Afterward, she’d fallen asleep curled against you, peaceful in a way she never seemed to be anywhere else.
It became a pattern. She’d come over, help around the apartment, cook dinner, and at night she’d seek that comfort. Sometimes gentle, sometimes desperate, but always ending with her satisfied and peaceful.
And something was shifting in you. You’d notice yourself looking forward to her arrival. The way she hummed while cooking. How she’d absently touch your arm when she passed by. The soft sound of her breathing when she slept beside you.
It wasn’t just relief anymore. It was… something else. Something that made your chest feel warm and tight at the same time.
The apartment transformed under her care. The last boxes finally unpacked. Furniture arranged with purpose rather than convenience. Kitchen organized efficiently. She even bought plants, small touches that made it feel like home instead of a temporary landing spot.
“You’re nesting,” you’d observed one afternoon, watching her rearrange the living room again.
“I like taking care of spaces. Taking care of people.” She’d stepped back, surveying her work. “Besides, the others come here too. It should feel welcoming.”
She was right. Different members would come by one afternoon to blow off some steam or celebrate their wins and Haseul would greet them at the door, make tea, provide the aftercare—a listening ear, a shoulder, a safe space to recover.
Like a mother or a wife managing a household. Taking care of everyone.
It was domestic and surreal and you tried not to think too hard about what it meant.
One evening, she cooked dinner while you reviewed contract documents at the table. The company wanted to formalize your role with ARTMS—move beyond just “coordinator” to something with real authority.
The Offer: Artist Manager for ARTMS. You’d oversee their schedules directly, coordinate between them and the company on all activities, manage their day-to-day operations, and serve as their primary liaison. The role also included supervising their dedicated support team—a stylist coordinator, a content manager, and an assistant who’d handle logistics. Bigger responsibilities and real authority.
Better title, better pay, more respect than you’d had at the old company.
“Artist Manager,” Haseul said, reading over your shoulder as she brought food to the table. “That’s a significant step up from what you had before.”
“Yeah. Actual authority this time.”
“You deserve it. You’ve been taking such good care of them. Of all of us.” She sat across from you. “The pay is good too.”
“It’s fair.”
She smiled, took a bite. “I like taking care of you. Taking care of this place. It’s relaxing.”
“You’re good at it.”
“I’ve always been like this. Even with the members—I’m the one who checks if they’ve eaten, if they’re okay.” She paused. “With you, it’s the same. But also different.”
“How?”
“With them, it’s my duty. With you…” She met your eyes. “It’s choice. I want to take care of you. Make your life easier. And in return, you take care of me when I need it.”
Like a wife, you thought. She was acting like a wife.
And some part of you—some dangerous part—yearned for it.
After dinner, she did the dishes while you kept reviewing the contract. She came to sit beside you again, leaning against your shoulder.
“I’ve been looking at their contracts too,” she said. “ARTMS. The company terms.”
“And?”
“I want in. When I win my injunction—and I will win—I want to join them. Same company, same group. I’ve reviewed everything. It’s good. Fair. I want to be part of it.”
“You’ve already decided? Not with Hyunjin and Vivi?”
“Yes. I don’t want to be left behind while the others move forward. I want to be with a more carefully planned out group.” She looked at you. “And I want you as my manager too. Not just theirs. Mine too.”
“Of course. If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” She kissed your cheek. “We’re going to make this work. All of us. Together.”
You held her, feeling that connection deepen. But she’d said it herself earlier—she was enjoying being single, enjoying the freedom of no relationship pressure.
This was just convenience. Just the arrangement.
Even if it didn’t feel like that to you anymore.
Late February
The group chat had been active lately. Not the main one with all twelve members, but the smaller one—just the freed four plus you.
ARTMS + Manager Group Chat
Heejin
Movie night this weekend?
Kim Lip
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