S
eoul felt even more chaotic than it was when they left it. At least that’s how it seemed to Yihwan hours after they arrived. While EG Project was on a plane back to Korea, Han Haera had announced her breakup with Jung Hwichan, prompting netizens to connect disjointed puzzle pieces and jump to conclusions.
I told you they were dating! They’ve probably gotten smarter about keeping their relationship under wraps, but they totally are still together!
Han Haera is a two-timing bitch. And Jo Yihwan isn’t any better, either.
Jo Yihwan and Han Haera. One is desperate to bed someone and the other is a cheater. You deserve each other.
Phone pressed to his ear, Yihwan skimmed through netizen comments on his tablet. From the corner of his eye, he spied Steven and Minchan throwing him wary looks and whispering to each other. He wouldn’t put it past them to be placing bets on who he was calling or what other blunder he would manage to get himself into, but he was in no mood to play along. He shot them both a glare, and they exited the room together.
It took a long time before his call was answered.
“Yeobose—”
“Mwohaneungeoya jigeum?”
“Welcome back.”
“Answer me, noona. What the fuck are you doing?”
“I broke up with Hwichan. People do that sometimes...”
“Explain to me how you are still so calm about this. Did you plan this to hurt me even more?”
When Haera uttered his name, it was as though her hands have reached out to him, holding his face and willing him to look at her. To stay still and listen. “We’ve already broken up, Yihwan. I think it’ll help if we both acknowledged that,” she told him calmly, like she had rehearsed this all along while waiting for his call. “Should everything be about you?”
“My name is everywhere in this, if you haven’t noticed.” He knew he should at least try to act calmer than this, but Haera’s utter lack of consideration infuriated him so. “I haven’t even recovered from—”
“Are you still breathing?”
“What?”
“You’re still breathing.”
“What does that have to do with anyth—”
“This won’t kill you. The difference between you and me and someone else who doesn’t live under the limelight like us is that we can lose as much as we have gained and just get back up. We have money. Machinery. Influence. There are people behind us pulling strings and keeping the skeletons in our closet. This is nothing to us.”
Yihwan shook his head. “What are you even talking about?”
“Yihwan, how long do you think Fi will survive…getting bashed and called names all over these websites?”
A pause. “You…did this for Fi?”
“Don’t act so surprised,” Haera said, her voice sounding like she was smiling. “I only threw bait.”
* * *
Yihwan hated it when he doesn’t get what he wants. He wasn’t a brat per se, but he worked hard for the things he wanted, and he knew when he should be getting something he deserved.
There were things, however, that even hard workers couldn’t control.
He didn’t mind the screaming fans outside the Amethyst Entertainment building yelling curses at him, didn’t worry when they were told so early in the morning that the company’s stocks were dropping by the hour because he was involved in yet another “scandal.” He minded that it was Justin who broke the news. He minded that it was Justin—not Fi—who came to the dorm and fetched them for the day’s scheduled appointments.
His fists were clenched as he stormed through the seventh floor corridors, agitated over Justin’s words echoing in his head.
Didn’t Fi tell you? She’d been reassigned to Silverazzi for the meantime.
This has got to be some kind of joke. Though Fi was by no means exclusively tied to EG Project, it was a sort of unwritten, unspoken rule. Four years of working together built an undeniable bond among them, making the band members fiercely possessive of their favorite girl Friday.
Which explained why Yihwan now felt confused. And angry.
There was a piece of paper with the name Silverazzi scrawled on it taped to the door of the Topaz rehearsal room, and the band leader stared at the name for a good three seconds before twisting the knob open. His knocking came right after.
“Sunbae!” The collective greeting came from a group of five young ladies sitting on the wooden floor at the far end of the room. They all stood up and bowed to Yihwan, who mustered a sincere smile and returned the gesture. His gaze, however, was fixed on the sixth lady who had been sitting with the Silverazzi members when he came in.
“May I borrow Fi for a minute?” he asked.
Fi responded quickly, “We’re in the middle of a schedule alignment...”
“Just a minute. Please.”
The Silverazzi ladies looked at Fi, then Yihwan, and Fi once again. The road manager closed her scheduler and excused herself. “Kkatda olkke.”
“Ne, sunbaenim!”
* * *
As soon as the door was shut behind her, Yihwan’s hand clamped over her wrist in a death grip. Fi was speechless as he pulled her toward the stairwell. She’d seen this in K-dramas many times before, but she always thought this rather brusque gesture belonged to those fictional universes. Not in real life.
Not in her life.
“You got reassigned. To Silverazzi,” were Yihwan’s first words when they finally reached the stairwell. His voice bounced against the walls, and Fi was starting to think this was a bad place to have this conversation.
Fi stared at him, unsure if he had anything else to say. It surprised her how intimidated she was by the way he hovered over her. She had never felt this way before. Then again, Yihwan was agitated and frustrated, and all of this negative energy was directed at her.
“... and your question is?”
“Why?”
For a full five seconds, she thought of casually citing the non-exclusivity clauses in her job description, but Fi couldn’t find it in her to shoot him down like that. This shouldn’t be a hostile conversation, even if she felt Yihwan was close to throwing a punch.
“You know exactly why.”
“No. I don’t. I can’t understand why you would suddenly give up on us just like that.”
“You really think I gave up on you?”
“Yes.”
Fi’s eyes started to sting, and she was certain she was going to break down if she so much as uttered a word. If she stayed with the band, things were just going to get worse. Merely getting photographed with them now was gossip fodder, fuel to the hate. How many more terrible insults would be thrown at them, then? Enough perhaps to bury the band and everything they’ve worked for all these years.
She steeled herself, looked him in the eye. “If you can’t understand why I’m doing this, then maybe you don’t know me at all.” Fi shook his hand off her wrist and turned away, but two strides later, he was already blocking the door.
“Fi... you don’t understand. I need you.”
If this happened a year or so ago, those words would be enough to make her knees wobble. But now, even as her heart raced, she didn’t feel anything else. It wasn’t that Yihwan’s words sounded empty. In fact, she believed he was as sincere as ever.
Now, Fi felt nothing else but a dull ache in her chest that reminded her of how much she used to love him.
“There’s just this...” And there it was, that all too familiar look in Yihwan’s eyes when he began to lose his grasp on words and turn into an imbecile. When he brought a hand to his chest, Fi couldn’t help but feel like he lodged a knife in her gut. “I keep thinking about you, Fi. Since that night in Bangkok... I realized what an idiot I’ve been, not being able to see something precious that’s right beside me.”
No, Yihwan. Don’t.
“And the more I don’t see you, the more I feel scared I’m going to lose you.”
Damn it. Don’t do this.
She knew where this conversation was headed, and she wanted none of it. “Talk to me when you’re done being emotional about this,” she said and hurried down to the sixth floor instead.
He chased after her and cornered her on the landing. “Fi, please... just listen to me.”
Yihwan was panting now, his chest visibly heaving under the gray V-neck he was wearing. “I think I’m in love with you, Fi. I can’t find any other reason why I’m feeling this way...”
Now her knees trembled, but she couldn’t seem to place her emotions. Should she be happy hearing this? Regretful? Cynical? Surely Yihwan was being irrational, uttering a word almost synonymous to the name Han Haera.
“You’re not in love with me, Yihwan-ah. You’re in love with the idea of being in love with someone.”
“No, you don’t understand!” he insisted, mouth hanging open, unable to say anything else. Suddenly, she felt sorry for the typically eloquent Jo Yihwan who couldn’t express himself with his weapon of choice. “You…you’re all I could think of. You’re like…you’re this persistent refrain I can’t get out of my head no matter wh—”
“See that’s the thing. I never wanted to be a refrain in your head.” Her voice was laced with conviction as she spoke, but she was blinking away tears.
“I wanted to be the song.”
The band leader stood there agape, defeated, and with nothing else to say. He was motionless until Fi turned around to leave. Three seconds tops, and Yihwan’s lips were on hers, forceful and awkward.
A loud smack echoed throughout the stairwell.
* * *
Fact: Gossip travels faster than the speed of light.
Or South Korea’s LTE speed. Or your coworkers’ running mouths. Whichever applies.
Coworkers’ running mouths it is, Fi decided, as she sat opposite the interim CEO’s executive assistant, Jin Sangwook. Mr. Jin eyed her rather severely, and she braced herself for a scolding. She expected him to recite something off the AmEnt employee manual, something about work ethics and morals and getting involved with talents. He would probably remind her that she was still in hot water for the Bangkok incident, too.
Instead, Mr. Jin engaged in a phone call for the next several minutes. Fi gathered nothing from the man’s curt utterances of “yes,” “no,” and “I understand,” and she was compelled to ask if they should postpone this discussion to another day. But the phone call ended just then, and Mr. Jin pulled out a brown envelope from his suitcase.
“Ms. Legaspi, I was instructed to give you this.” He slid the brown envelope toward her. She looked at him curiously, and he simply gestured for her to open it. Her head spun when she obliged and saw the document header.
Contract Termination.