Nayeon's Turn

My name is John.

I am twenty-six years old. I’m British-Korean, polite, and I spend too much time at the gym. People look at my muscles and assume I’m tough. Inside, I’m usually just worrying about whether I bowed correctly or if I remembered everyone’s names.

I’ve worked in K-pop since I was eighteen. I carried boxes. I held umbrellas. I worked my way up to manager.

For the last two years, I managed NewJeans. It was the best job ever. The girls were lovely. I tried to be a good manager, kind and supportive. But the company, Ador, didn't see it that way. When the Danielle controversy exploded, they needed a scapegoat. They fired me for being "too friendly" and giving the members "too much freedom."

So, out of a job.

I went home to tell my girlfriend, Ji-eun. We’d been together for three years. Instead of comfort, I found her in bed with another guy.

I didn't shout. I’m not that type. I just packed a bag and left.

The next morning, I tried to buy a coffee and a pastry to cheer myself up. My card was declined.

I checked my phone. A notification from the bank.

Alert: Account Frozen.

Ji-eun hadn't just cheated; she had tried to transfer every single won from my savings to her own account. The bank flagged it as suspicious fraud and froze the entire account. My money. My rent money. Everything.

Now, I had no job. No girlfriend. And absolutely no access to my money.

I crashed on a friend’s sofa. I spent the week sending emails to every agency in Seoul. I needed work. But the industry is small. Everyone knew I was the guy fired from NewJeans. Nobody wanted to touch me.

"No vacancies."

"Position filled."

"Best of luck elsewhere."

I sat on the sofa, staring at my laptop screen. My stomach growled. I couldn't even order food delivery. I was truly, officially at rock bottom.

I was about to close the laptop when I saw a new email in my Spam folder. I usually ignore these. But the subject line made me pause.

Urgent: Management Opportunity. Top Girl Group.

The sender address was random numbers. It looked like a scam.

"John," I whispered to myself, rubbing the back of my neck. "Don't do it. It’s a trap."

But I was desperate. Desperate people do stupid things.

I clicked it.

Dear Candidate,

We have been observing your career. We are aware of your recent departure from your previous agency. We believe the circumstances were unfair.

We represent a top-tier girl group. We are looking for a manager who is dedicated, loyal, and hardworking. We value discretion and a gentle touch above corporate politics.

If you are interested in a fresh start where your effort will be truly appreciated, please come for an interview.

Location: The Bean & Leaf Coffee Shop, Gangnam.

Date: Tomorrow.

Time: 8:00 PM.

Back corner table. Look for a red laptop sticker.

Come alone.

Sincerely,

The Management

I read it twice.

It was so cryptic. No mention of pay. No company name. Just a coffee shop at 8 PM. It screamed "kidnapping" or "prank."

But then I thought about my frozen bank account. I thought about Ji-eun. I thought about being unemployed and unemployable.

"Top girl group." Who could it be? It didn't matter. I needed a job. I needed a break.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. This was crazy. I was going to a sketchy interview in a coffee shop because of a spam email.

I took a deep breath.

I typed:

Dear The Management,

Thank you for the opportunity. I would be very interested in discussing this position.

I will be there tomorrow at 8:00 PM.

Sincerely,

John Park

I hit send.

I closed my laptop and leaned back against the sofa. I felt nervous, sure. But for the first time in a week, I felt a tiny spark of hope.

Well… nothing to lose, right?

The Bean & Leaf Coffee Shop was quiet, which was a relief. I didn't really want an audience for whatever this was. I scanned the room, looking for the "red laptop sticker" mentioned in the email.

I found them in the back corner. Two people. One man, one woman. Both wearing black medical masks that covered their entire faces below the eyes. They sat across from each other, looking like they were in a witness protection program.

I took a deep breath, adjusted my collar, and walked over.

"Excuse me?" I said, my voice slightly higher than usual. "I'm John. I'm here for the... interview."

The woman gestured to the empty chair next to her. "Sit. Please."

Her voice was muffled by the mask, but polite. The man just nodded.

I sat down. My hands were sweating. I wiped them on my jeans.