Page 99 of When Worlds Collide
Hana shrugged. “New group. I’ve been assigned to them for three months, but they’re probably going to disband soon.”
We’d moved towards the line of other people, all queuing up to grab trays and join the self-service line.
“What? Why?” I turned to watch her face, but it was remarkably detached.
She shrugged again. “Dynamic, I think. They don’t seem to be meshing well. They were all in different pre-debut groups before, but the other girls weren’t ready, so they-” she nodded her head with a swish of her shiny hair in the direction of the women – teenagers, I could see, now that I was closer – “got pushed together. But they have no chemistry. Total patch job.”
Hana made a ‘whomp whomp’ noise, which was both comedic and cold. I wasn’t sure how to react, so I chose to say nothing. I tried not to stare at the group, who didn’t seem to be eating thefood in front of them, and I wondered if they knew that their future was so poorly regarded. They’d likely trained for years, bonded with the other trainees, only to be crammed into a group that now wasn’t working. It didn’t seem fair.
Turning my attention back to the food line, I saw that it all looked delicious, but I still struggled to recognise the things I liked, so I just went with a random selection and hoped for the best. I lucked out with the kimchi stew, but took a hard pass on what I learned was octopus. I swapped with Hana for a small serving of japchae and considered it a win.
After lunch, we went to the department I’d apparently be spending a lot of my time in and around – the stylist rooms, where a variety of stylists, hair and makeup artists were busy coordinating looks for a trainee group.
Some of them paused what they were doing to say hello, but most of them only nodded politely as they got on with what they were doing. The ones that did stop to chat didn’t seem all that impressed with me, which was fair. I was on the very bottom rung of a very tall ladder, and I didn’t speak enough Korean to be truly useful to them. I’d be sceptical, too, if a total stranger waltzed into my domain with no language skills and no recommendations. Watching their pasted-on smiles made my heart sink, just a little, as I realised what a climb I had in front of me.
It brought up a legitimate concern to me. Just how well was I going to be able to do my job when I barely knew the language?
I voiced this to Hana, but she waved my concern away.
“Don’t worry,” she said confidently. “I’ll take good care of you.”
I smiled, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was just going along with the idea that I could possibly belong here – in this building, or in this world.
End Of Part Two.
Chapter 30
Two weeks later
"So, how's it going?" Becka yawned. She'd just woken up, whereas I was winding down after another busy day.
I considered my response. "I think I kind of assumed it would be similar to interning at Pisces," I admitted. "Y'know, sorting cables by colour, rearranging the chaos cupboards, putting together drum kits with the help of wandering musicians, that sort of thing."
Becka snorted. "I take it it's a little more mentally stimulating?"
I shrugged, settling myself more comfortably on the sofa. Joon wasn't home yet.
"Some days I do the same stuff I did at Pisces – humping boxes all over the building – but the other day, we were sent to the complete other side of the city. We turned an abandoned parking lot into a futuristic landscape for a music video."
Thankfully, Hana and I had been working alongside each other since I started working at ENT. Having a native Korean speaker with me had been a life-saver, and I like to think I’ve also made her life easier, due to already being pretty used to the grunt work that comes with being a ‘junior assistant’.
"That's wild," Becka said, but the effect of her enthusiasm was dulled, somewhat, by a jaw-popping yawn.
Her yawn only reminded me how tired I also was. I had spent more days out of the building than I had inside of it. This week alone I'd been out of ENT three times setting up for variety shows and music videos. Today, my team and I helped out with transporting incredible amounts of broken-down set pieces to the freight depot, where they’ll end up all over the world for tour stages.
It’s been incredibly eye opening to see – and realise – the scope of the production that goes into this industry. It’s so full-scale, I had no idea.
"It's really amazing being on this side of it," I went on. "If you’d ever asked me what went into mobilising a K-Pop group from practice room to variety show appearance, I’d have guessed maybe 10% of the process. It’s insane – it takes an actual army."
I'd joked to Jihoon, last night, that I was starting to think they booked stadium arenas just to fit the crew, not the fans.
He'd winked and said, "Ssh, don't tell anyone."
I’d never really given it much thought before – what went into making this world a reality – the staging, the outfit changes, the perfectly staged choreography. It was so far out of mywheelhouse of music production, but now I was beginning to see the kind of blood, sweat, and tears that held it all together, and it was immense. I was a tiny cog in something so massive, and in a way I hadn’t expected – it was humbling.
"So, where's the idol?" Becka asked, and I watched as she rolled out of bed and walked into the kitchen for her customary cup of coffee.
"Still at dance practice," I answered automatically. He'd started up practice with GVibes this week, now that the group's Christmas leave was officially over. He and the other members spent most days in the building, working on choreography for the new songs they planned to release between now and the tour in the autumn.
