Optics. Repulsed, she lost her hold on a tube of lipstick. It rolled into the sink with a clatter. “I understand that you're upset,” said Eric, “and there's no question of sending your sister home. We’ve got a flight booked. Consider that handled.”
“We’re both going,” Denny replied. He came in to help and she could tell he hadn't slept a wink. Since he'd stashed his phone in the same pouch as the passport, she was able to see part of the screen. Messages kept coming in, so many that the notifications stopped showing previews. The sender was Kazu, Kazu, Kazu. They must’ve allowed him to keep his phone, as leader.
Jiyeon dropped the lipstick again, missing the mouth of her makeup bag entirely. “Denny, what happened?”
He cleared the bathroom vanity, working so fast that she couldn't keep up. “It's the shop,” he answered, brusque as always. But this was different, this was worse, because Jiyeon had known Denny since the day he was born. He wasn't just angry. He was miserable.
The shop. What went wrong at the shop?
Eric entered the room uninvited. He'd been joined by one of the Erins, who returned Jiyeon’s phone. “This is the earliest flight we could get you,” she said, babbling about transportation to the airport and which approved responses were to be given in case of media inquiries. Jiyeon tuned her out. Her battery was at a precarious twelve percent, but the screen was powered on now, flooded with notifications. She scrolled, frantic. Eleven messages from Mom. Eight from Dad.
They'd sent pictures, too shaken to manage much else. The first one hit with such force that Jiyeon had to lean against the nearest wall, seeing stars. She sucked in a breath and forced herself to keep looking.
It was the orange door at Wanna Waffle. The stained glass panels were shattered, reduced to shards on the pavement.Remnants of their father's plants filled the foreground, a carpet of spilled soil and trampled leaves.
Emma had been tagged in dozens of posts across multiple apps. Most of the content was the same: spilled food, cracked plates, chairs overturned in the dining room. Piles of colorful packaging, long since gutted. Here, half of Apollo smiled from a sign ripped in half. A table had collapsed.
Sunshines had started lining up for the exclusive merch drop on Friday afternoon, with many camping out overnight. And that would've been fine; Wanna Waffle had seen that kind of deluge before. But this time, certain factors were in play. Lumina’s music video had broken streaming records, fueling rumors that devoured Star-Connect and social media with the brutal speed of a wildfire. Some were blaming Hazel for posting, but the email leak wasn’t her fault, and neither was the severity of Zenith’s reaction.
Fan speculation went wild. Max and Jungwoo were leaving the group. Emerald had resorted to sabotage, unwilling to part with proven hitmakers. At first it was just Jungwoo, but now they had the nerve to take Max as well. And Zenith? They’d gotten greedy. They’d have every member of Apollo, or none at all.
Stuck in line for hours, the majority left empty-handed. It took just one angry voice to set things off. A fight broke out, escalating too rapidly to be contained. Maybe they’d never be clear on what the argument was about, but that didn’t matter on the Internet. People focused on videos of crazed Sunshines shouting, pushing, shoving. By the thousands, they reposted footage of Joey Han roaring at the crowd.
“He thought they hurt Jeannie,” Denny said, dragging Jiyeon out of her feed. “She’s fine. Fell down for a sec, but Dad found her. Customers were freaking out, thinking they’d get crushed. No serious injuries reported. Nobody pressing charges,either. For now.” He whisked her shampoo and conditioner out of the shower. “Not sure we’ll be on the same flight. Eric might try to keep me here, but I'll get going as soon as I can.”
She echoed Max’s words from last night. “He can't make you stay.”
“That’s true,” Eric concurred, “but the terms of Manager Han’s employment are very clear. He has obligations to fulfill. This isn't the time to be leaving Apollo in Tokyo. How would that look? They might be losing two members, and now their manager, too? If he wants what's best for Apollo, he'll stay right here.”
Jiyeon locked her phone, banishing the news and the notifications and the pictures, that sickening gleam of glass on concrete. “The guys would want him to go. I know that's what they're telling him in all those messages.”
“If that's the case, and the group is fine with him leaving, then management of Apollo will be transferred to Prism. Their agency has no staff members on site. There's also the matter of Emerald Entertainment potentially bringing up a legal breach. The contract requires Manager Han to be present during a crisis, and this qualifies as a crisis.”
“He isn't an Emerald employee,” she argued.
“There are two binding agreements in place,” Eric argued back. “Your brother signed legal paperwork with the agency in order to be allowed access to agency talent and facilities. Even when artists personally choose their own staff, it's still necessary for managers to be cleared through the company.”
Denny shook his head. “Yeonnie, let it go. Grab your clothes and get moving.”
“What about you?”
“You heard him. I’m their manager. I… I need to stay.”
Out in the hall, an explosion of noise. Apollo peered inside, faces drawn and pale. “Let Denny go home,” said Eunjae, shouldering past Prism staff. “We’ll pay for the flight.”
Eric tapped a stylus on his tablet screen, tap tap tap. His demeanor oozed sympathy. “I think he’d rather be here to support you. Isn’t that true, Manager Han? You said this in an interview, if I recall correctly. You’re very attached to Apollo. They’re your friends, and they mean a lot to you. Making friends was never your strong suit, growing up. Now, these friends need you more than ever. I understand why you’re so torn. You care about your restaurant, but isn’t that just a place? People are so much more important. Your words exactly.”
Unbidden, Jiyeon’s eyes filled with tears. She would make him take that back. She would smash that stupid tablet to pieces and make him sorry he ever dared to weaponize Denny’s feelings about Apollo. She would—
Eunjae took her face in his hands. “Hey,” he murmured. “Look at me. Just me. You can’t listen to what he’s saying, okay? We need to get you out of here. Denny, too. I’ll fix this. I’ll find a way.”
“What about you? What about your contracts?” She’d skimmed the statement issued by Emerald. The agencies were locked in a very public dispute, trapping Apollo in the middle.
“Never mind about us. Jiyeon, the shop… I’m sorry. I’ll fix everything.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
He didn’t answer. And then Denny was there, urging her to finish packing. “Staying here won’t kill me. Just go.”
