“What? Really?”
“Uh-huh.” She lowers her voice so that the camera won't catch what she's saying. We get to watch Jungwoo's expression go from disbelief to denial to deeper embarrassment. “It's for the fans,” says Emma. “You said they're everything to you.”
Sunshines echo this a hundredfold. Oppa did say that! Didn't oppa mean it? Surely he wouldn't lie. Boys only lie in real life!
Jungwoo doesn't last long under this full-scale bombardment. He exits stage right, sighing, and Emma follows him into the kitchen. Apollo member Ari stands at the sink, scrubbing an oversized pan that won't fit in the dishwasher. He gives Emma a questioning look.
She points at Jungwoo, who sighs again. “Sorry, Ari. Anything for Sunshines.”
“Ah, what do you mean—”
The sheet pan slides out of his grasp, hitting the sink with a clang. Water splashes onto the floor. Sunshines are screaming in the chat, ecstatic. Jungwoo just grabbed Ari by the wrist! Cue the ballad, trigger the slow-mo! Some of us have been waiting to see this moment for years!
The camera swings low, pointed at Emma’s shoes. She's laughing so much that she almost dropped it.
29
Comingbackfromtheweekend was painful, and the days that followed were strange ones. Monday’s shifts were rearranged to accommodate celebrity guests flown in from Seoul. Then the weather forecast prompted Emerald to move a photo shoot. They shuttered the diner, announced an obscenely early start time, and threw the whole production into chaos. This was how Eunjae ended up in full kit on a Tuesday morning, sprawled on the wing of a vintage plane. The concepts for Apollo’s annualSeason’s Greetingscalendar were always… interesting.
This year-end gift set for fans was a time-honored tradition among K-pop groups. Jiyeon's special edition Ari calendar had been part of the previous holiday season’s merchandise, which included a planner and stickers as well. Eunjae had heard from their other manager, Nami, that this year’s box came with a miniature sundial.
Zipped into a pastel blue jumpsuit, he was told to pose with a citrus crate and got a splinter as a souvenir. That wasn’t fun. Neither was the part where they wanted him tossing an orange and catching it, alluringly. He knew what they were asking for, and Eunjae could do it, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to melt into the concrete floor. Ten years in the business and he remained so easily embarrassed.
Whenever the photographer didn’t need him, he wandered around taking pictures himself. The staff had scouted a derelict hangar for part of the shoot. There was beauty to be found in its steel bones, in the panes of cracked and clouded glass. A ruined roof left the interior open to the sky. At the right hour, the place glowed from within, shot through with cold October sunlight.
On the drive back, Eunjae swiped through his pictures and sent some to Jiyeon. Her schedule had also flipped upside down since that meeting with Prism. She’d be around a little bit longer and he wanted to see her.
He got out as soon as the van came to a stop. Staff directed them to the main house, promising a breakfast buffet. Eunjae witnessed the tail end of a quarrel on the way in. “You’re not supposed to be leaking videos anymore,” Kei said, exasperated as usual. “Quit coming up with insane ideas for them. I’m sure noona doesn’t need help.”
“We’re collaborating. And I’m the one who said telling the truth might be worth trying sometimes. I was the inspiration.”
“It might be worth tryingsometimes?Are you listening to yourself? Psycho!”
“Call me names all you want, but if you don’t get your post done before we leave, we’ll have to get you at the wedding.”
“Do you have to sound like you’re planning a murder?”
“Do you have to be a fake snob? If you were a real snob, you’d appreciate my vision.”
Kei accused Nicky of conflating insanity with artistry. Nicky declared that His Royal Highness the Dark Prince Adrianos was an enemy of the arts. If you wanted to escalate a conflict, all you had to do was mention the time Keiichi voiced the lead in a popular anime franchise. Eunjae knew he’d have to step in before it got any worse.
As it turned out, he didn’t have to. Jiyeon heard their bickering and came to mediate. She popped up between them, held up her phone, and flipped the camera around. Nicky broke into a grin mid-sentence. Kei’s grumpy expression became a look of practiced indifference, transforming him into the cool and unsmiling crush who neither knew nor cared that you existed. All nine members of Apollo were conditioned to drop everything for a selfie.
Jiyeon glanced at Eunjae. “Huh. That really does work.”
“It’s pretty reliable.”
“Well, well,” Nicky said, loading a plate with food. “Ajumma, nice to see you. Keiichi here would like to volunteer for your next post—”
“Don’t listen to him, I’m not volunteering for anything!”
“You can wait if you want,” said Jiyeon, pouring Kei a glass of orange juice out of sympathy. “I’ve been reading what your fans have to say and most of their requests are really simple. Nothing crazy.”
Kei was visibly relieved to hear this, but Nicky filed an objection. “Define crazy, though. For example, it wouldn’t be crazy if I knocked into him right now and he spilled that juice on your dress. That’s such a plausible scenario. Accidents happen, you know? Then we film him while he panics.” A beatific grin. “You want authenticity? That’s authentically Keiichi.”
“You’re not spilling anything on her dress,” said Eunjae.
“You used to have a sense of humor, Ari.”
