Chapter Text
MEGAN SKIENDIEL
The digital clock embedded in the soundproof wall of HYBE's main studio seemed to mock everyone in the room. The red LED numbers glowed with an aggressive urgency: 21:43.
The sound of the air conditioning was a low, constant hum that did absolutely nothing to cool the room's temperature, which felt like it had risen ten degrees in the last few seconds. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of untouched espresso, expensive perfume mixed with cold sweat, and the raw despair that only the imminence of a multibillion-dollar corporate disaster could cause.
Yoonchae stood perfectly still, her straight back pressed against the metallic coldness of the studio door. Her black jacket and sunglasses made her look a bit more intimidating, hiding from the outside world beneath the apathetic costume she usually wore in front of them. And the earpiece discreetly tucked behind her right earwhich Megan liked to think was playing a silly song, something that would give a hint of a personality different from the usual apathetic Yoonchae.
Even though Megan knew it was highly likely that only the static silence of the empty hallway outside existed in the background.
It had been six months since Yoonchae became the group's new security guard. The first time Megan laid eyes on her, she had initially thought, "Wow, she's beautiful," and then shortly after, "Scarily beautiful."
Yoonchae had briefly introduced herself as their head of security, which confused the girls a bit since Yoonchae looked,and was,younger than them. When Lara mentioned this, that was when they discovered Yoonchae's acidic personality. Since then, Yoonchae only spoke when necessary, and with a lot of poison involved, not out of anger, but simply with sharp sarcasm. Yoonchae had also mastered the art of being "invisibly scary," as Daniela put it, since the Korean girl never announced her arrival and simply appeared out of nowhere, startling all the members.
But in general, Yoonchae was cool. She let the girls sneak away from the managers to questionable places, as long as their location sharing was turned on and the girls stayed together.
One thing about Yoonchae was that she was absurdly efficient. She could neutralize potential threats before they even appeared, identifying stalkers even in the middle of dense crowds. And something that scared them quite a bit was the phrase Yoonchae liked to use most
"I get paid to take a bullet for you."
Megan felt a shiver just thinking about it. Even in a short amount of time, Yoonchae had kindof been adopted by all the girls into a friendship full of traded barbs and fierce protectiveness. The simple fact that Yoonchae could get hurt while working was agonizing for them.
But no amount of Yoonchae's training could save them now.
Megan stared at the monitor screen in disbelief, months of work, rehearsals, and productions, simply lost.
Six months ago, management had arranged a collaboration with the boy group CORTIS, throwing them straight into the KATSEYE storm. And since then, the definition of "threat" in Yoonchae's vocabulary had drastically changed.
The girls could never sit still in one place. Megan acknowledged that she was probably one of the ones who gave the youngest the most trouble, between recordings, festivals, and constant trips to airports, Megan always found a way to escape for a few hours. Maybe it was karma for always sneaking out when she shouldn't, or maybe she was just a badly behaved child, or perhaps God had mistaken her for someone else, because she couldn't see why this was happening specifically to her.
Megan had only one mission: take the flash drive from Martin's hand, plug it into the computer, download the files, and release the song.
And why hadn't she just asked someone else? Why hadn't the files been sent online in a completely safer way? Because Martin and Sophia are both superstitious, fearful, and paranoid.
WHY PUT ANY RESPONSIBILITY ON HER? OF ALL PEOPLE.
Martin absolutely HATES sending any kind of work, no matter how small, online. And Sophia, their BELOVED leader, also hates anyone other than themselves releasing their songs on the platforms. These paranoid leaders, terrified that their music will somehow be stolen.
Every time one of their songs was released, all six of them would gather and release it on the platforms together. Sophia always said it brought good luck, and everyone obeyed Sophia, no questions asked.
Sophia knew how Megan could be sometimes, it jus didn't make sense.
"Megan," Sophia began, and Megan could already feel her legs shaking. "Where is our song?" Sophia's voice already betrayed genuine panic.
Megan tried to speak, but all that came out were stutters, trembling, and several tears streaming down when Megan realized there was no quick fix anymore. The monitor screen still showed 'corrupted file,' and even if Megan tried to unlock the files, it could take much more time than they had, or make the situation worse.
"Megan," Manon pulled her by the shoulders with wide eyes. "You need to breathe and let's think of a solution, there's—"
"There's no time at all," Daniela snapped. "We are so fucked," she sighed, throwing herself onto the living room sofa next to Marquise.
"Do you have any idea how this happened?" Marquise asked.
"And if there's a way to, I don't know, reverse it?" Lara added, already on her feet, pacing in circles.
"Nothing makes sense. Martin gave me the flash drive and I brought it here," Megan said exasperatedly, pointing to the small red flash drive. "I never took it out of my pocket, it stayed with me the whole time until now."
"The whole time?" Manon asked, raising an eyebrow, and Megan huffed.
"Manon, this is not the time for that," Sophia scolded, and right after repeated the same words. "But the whole time? Mei, are you sure?"
"The whole time I was dressed, yes," she said, tilting her head as if recalling something else. "It went to the parties with me, in the same ziplock bag from Martin. I didn't even touch the thing."
"They wouldn't just evaporate from one second to the next, Soph," Marquise rubbed the leader's back, who was already slumped over the large sofa, writhing in agony. "Maybe it was already corrupted when it left there."
"Let's not think about that right now, we need a solution, like, right now," Daniela said.
"Really, genius? That hadn't even crossed my—" before Marquise could finish, Lara snapped from the other side of the room. "Don't even think about starting with your bickering."
Megan still stared at the monitor as if the longer she looked, the faster a solution would come, but it was just her, the red warning, and the black screen. Her dark, feverish eyes darted frantically from one monitor screen to the other, staring at the colored tracks of the audio editing software as if she could force them to fix themselves through sheer willpower.
The release was the biggest milestone in the group's career so far. A collaborative mini-album between KATSEYE and CORTIS, the boy group that had dominated the Korean charts since "REDRED," and the current biggest girl group making a comeback after all the controversy of Manon's hiatus. All eyes would be on them, and she had simply ruined it.
The clash of schedules and tours had turned the recording into a logistical nightmare. CORTIS had recorded their vocals in a studio in Korea, while KATSEYE did their part in Los Angeles. Only meeting for the MV shoots, conceptual performance, and promotional content.
The final arrangement of the title track, an aggressive hyper-pop called "POP/STARS," was the responsibility of Martin, the producer and leader of CORTIS. He had packed the neon red flash drive in a clear ziplock and handed it to Megan, after double-checking every step Megan was supposed to take when they arrived at the studio in the USA. And, by some sadistic twist of fate, despite all that paranoia and precaution, it still failed miserably.
They still had the instrumental tracks. Sophia, Daniela, Lara, and Manon's vocals were intact. Even the choruses were perfect. But the isolated voice files that contained the raps and the bridges sung in Korean,which were supposed to tie all the song's attitude together and prep it for the Asian market,were just a void of distorted static and corrupted clicks.
"Soph, you need to breathe," Marquise murmured.
"I am breathing," Sophia countered, putting her hands over her face. "And breathing isn't going to bring the fucking track back."
"Hey," Manon reprimanded Sophia, who lowered her head and whispered an apology into her hands.
Megan watched Yoonchae, searching for some kind of calm that the Korean had, hoping she might be able to borrow a little for herself. She saw how Yoonchae observed the scene from the corner of her eye, her neutral expression camouflaging the mental exhaustion that the dynamics of those girls caused her.
Marquise was on the sofa, behind Sophia with her hands on the Filipina's back. Too close to be just friendly comfort from a coworker. The Thai girl had eliminated any personal space between them, her right hand resting with a possessive naturalness at the base of Sophia's spine. Marquise's thumb traced invisible circles on the fabric of the leader's blouse, a silent anchoring gesture loaded with an adoration so dense it nearly suffocated the room.
Sophia, however, was spectacularly blind. Blind to the persistent touch, blind to the soft tone of voice Marquise reserved only for her.
Sophia continued, her voice choked, shaking her head. "If we don't deliver the final file to the distributor before midnight, we lose a lot of things. There's a lot of money involved. HYBE will blame us. CORTIS will hate us. The album debut will go down the drain, the sales, the fans..."
"CORTIS won't hate us. And we'll just have a media war for a few weeks, hate trains, things like that," Daniela's voice sounded high-pitched. "But the boys won't hate us."
"Dani, baby, that doesn't help," Manon said.
"I try my best."
"The backup server in Los Angeles is down for maintenance. The producer there isn't answering the phone because it's middle of the night in Korea," Marquise said, holding her gaze on Megan over Sophia's head.
Sophia let out a frustrated groan, pressing her palms against her own eyes. Megan felt the faint beginnings of a headache forming at her temples.
To escape that sight, Yoonchae averted her gaze to the other side of the room. Which didn't help at all either. On the other dark leather sofa in the studio, Lara and Manon seemed to be in a silent competition to see who could sink deeper into the cushions without touching each other. The sofa easily accommodated four people. Lara was at one end, her legs defensively crossed, mercilessly biting her thumbnail. Manon was squeezed onto the other end, her attention falsely concentrated on the screen of her turned-off phone.
To anyone on the outside, they would seem like just two friends respecting each other's space. To Megan, who knew better, their posture screamed repressed intimacy. There was a magnetic field between them, carrying the weight of rumpled sheets and stealthy late-night exits in hotel hallways during tours. Megan knew about the secret "relationship" they still refused to admit. It was impossible not to notice how they refused to look each other in the eye now, terrified that any eye contact would reveal what they felt to the entire room. It was the raw fear of making a commitment mixed with a stubborn denial that left the air around them almost thin.
"There are one hundred and twelve minutes left and—" Manon spoke and was cut off almost immediately.
"I didn't know you could do math like that," Lara joked, receiving a glaring look from the older girl.
Manon had finally looked at her, it was the attention Lara had been seeking for days without knowing how to ask, her raspy voice sounding tense. She lifted her head, and her eyes locked with Lara's for a millisecond longer than necessary before both simultaneously averted their faces, as if burned. "We could try to plug the hole in the song, we need this song for today."
"Unless you speak Korean, Manz, I don't know how that would be possible," Megan replied in an almost lifeless whisper, she had already lost all hope.
And it was at that exact moment that Megan stopped pacing.
Megan, who had been pacing in agitated circles near the glass recording booth this entire time, froze.
Megan was, in Yoonchae's strictly professional opinion, a hurricane dressed in dozens of styles and personalities. She didn't speak normally,she projected emotion . And from the very first day Yoonchae was assigned to KATSEYE, Megan had fixed an interest on her that bordered on comical because of how transparent it was.
The cups of coffee mysteriously left on the security desk. The radiant smiles directed at Yoonchae through the van's rearview mirror. The way Megan always seemed to "accidentally" position herself closer to Yoonchae than the Korean pretended not to like during soundchecks.
Yoonchae was emotionally armored, cynical, and locked up tight. She responded to these advances from Megan with sharp sarcasm. She had neither the time, the energy, nor the contractual permission to deal with the obvious feelings of a rising pop star.
But when Megan stopped in the middle of the room, her eyes meeting directly with Yoonchae's silhouette near the door, the bodyguard felt an uncomfortable shiver at the base of her neck. It wasn't the usual adorable look. It was the look of someone who had just had a completely out-of-bounds idea.
Megan turned her entire body toward the bodyguard, who suddenly seemed awkward under the obvious stare.
"Yoonchae." The name slipped from Megan's lips like a prayer.
Yoonchae didn't even blink. She maintained her rigid posture and raised a single eyebrow,a mute and deadly question, already anticipating a problem.
With Megan, it was always a problem.
"Yes, Ms. Skiendiel? Do you need an escort to the bathroom?" Yoonchae's tone was indifferent, almost as if she were ordering a coffee.
Megan shook her head, taking two slow steps toward her. The other girls stopped arguing and turned to follow the movement.
"We have the production here," Megan said, affirming it more to herself than anything else. Her eyes were fixed on Yoonchae. "We have the clean instrumental. We just don't have the vocals to fill it."
"Nothing we don't already know babes," Manon said, surrendering to the studio sofa.
"Where are you going with this, Megan?" Sophia asked, confusion mixing with the exhaustion on her face.
Megan ignored them both, taking another step toward the door. She stopped in front of Yoonchae. It was the limit of Yoonchae's personal space that she considered acceptable, but the Korean felt as if she were inches away. Megan's sweet perfume invaded the air around the bodyguard, slightly disarming her senses.
"You're Korean," Megan said.
Yoonchae let out an audible, slow sigh through her nose, her dark eyes gleaming with trained boredom.
"That information is truly shocking considering I was hired in Korea," Yoonchae said, lightly crossing her arms. "Any other fantastic discoveries, or are we done here?" she asked Megan ironically.
A small smile appeared at the corner of Megan's lips at the acidic response.
"What I mean is... Korean is your native language. You know the beat to POP/STARS," Megan started, only to be interrupted.
"I don't pay attention to that," Yoonchae interrupted.
"I know you do, it was playing in the van all week," Megan said. "And I saw you tapping on the wheel, it's no use denying it."
She looked up, meeting Yoonchae's eyes with a vulnerability that made Yoonchae's stomach sink dangerously.
The silence in the studio became deafening. Even Daniela and Marquise stopped glaring at each other. Manon sat up straighter on the sofa.
"Chae..." Megan's voice dropped to a low tone, almost pleading before saying, her eyes shining with anticipation. "Can you sing?"
Yoonchae stared at the girl in front of her. Stared into the immensity of her eyes and the absolute madness of that suggestion. A humorless laugh scratched at Yoonchae's throat before she could contain it.
"Have you lost your mind?"