"I'm going to be in the high-end hotel on the beach to start, and then they'll arrange more long-term arrangements for me, according to the email." Someone named Rizzo sent me an itinerary and contact information. Luckily for her and for me, I speak pretty decent English, so she won't have to hire me a translator, at least. But I'm a foreign man in a foreign land, and there's a lot for me to learn.
She's Seo-Jun's girl, too, so there's that.
I wonder how that bastard's healing up these days?
"Well, let me know when you settle in, I suppose," he mutters, his attention obviously elsewhere. "I'll be waiting for your call."
"You'd better bring your girl with you when you come," I say as he prepares to cut off the call. "I like her."
She's the only reason I know I have a twin. The first time I met him, he came alone. Shame, considering I was hoping he'd bring the bubbly girl I met on the phone with him. She seemed nice, a vibrance that's the opposite of my brother. I suppose it's a good thing we all have our opposites. The art of Feng Shui emphasizes yin and yang balance, and you need harmony like that to make things work in nature.
She's the yin to his yang, or whatever. I'm not that into it.
My foster parents are, though.
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, then the line goes dead. In the few times that I've spoken to him on the phone, I've gotten used to his abrupt endings. He doesn't mince words with me. And that's okay in my book. I don't have time to play poetry in motion. I'm a busy man, after all.
But in person, he's a lot less uptight. He's downright chill. And the whiplash it can give you the first few times is insane.
Now? I'm pretty sure I'll be okay.
The car pulls up to the swanky hotel I'm staying in, and holy shit, it's better than I imagined.
The damn thing goes clear to the clouds; it's so tall. I can hear waves from the beach, but it butts up against the minute the door to my ride opens, and shit, man, it smells amazing.
"Is this the place?" I ask in awe, staring up at the multi-colored spotlights that shine against the front of the building like some sort of light show. They've even got designs etched into their beams. "This is insane."
I've never stayed in a hotel this nice, even as an idol. My label was, let's just say, cheap. And since lately, I haven't been their highest earner, well, I get the bottom of the barrel, so to speak.
This is top tier, man.
"Right this way, sir," the driver says with a hand outstretched, and I step up off the sidewalk and onto a pathway lined with a fucking carpet.
I'm not red-carpet material. I'm wearing a pair of naturally-faded jeans, a generic white tank top, and a slouchy, secondhand vintage bomber jacket I picked up from a shop in Kyoto one year while on vacation.
The most expensive thing about me today is the pair of high-end shoes on my feet.
I mean, I have money, that's not the problem. The problem is, I don'tlooklike I have money, and usually, that tends to makepeople treat me differently than they do if they can see my visible representation of wealth.
I sail through check-in, likely because the driver knows the doorman and the counter girl, and they hand me a nice keycard with gold shiny inlay—fucker isheavy, man—and I make my way to the elevator. A bellhop brings along my bags, and in no time at all, I'm on the fifteenth floor, looking out at a city I hadn't heard of until Jun called me a few days ago and set me up on a flight over.
The layover in London was great. I even managed to find a hot honey to hook up with in the hotel bar. She took her clothes, her attitude, and let herself out before the sun rose—my favorite kind of hookup.
Easy. No strings attached.
Now I'm here, and I not only know nobody, but I'm a stranger in a strange land, and I have a job to do.
I haven't been an idol in years—not like this company expects me to be. It'll take some work to get back into that mindset.
With a sigh, I close the curtains on the city and flop down on the couch, drinking straight from the complimentary bottle of wine they left for me on the counter of this suite.Welcome to Nocturna Beach,the little card said.We look forward to seeing you at the office tomorrow morning. -kNight Ent.
It's a damn good thing I don't suffer from jet lag, or I'd hate the following day's schedule, and everything it promises to bring me.
Another car waits for me at six sharp before the sun has even come out to play.
The company offices, however, are busy as a beehive, and I find myself swept up in the various people coming and going as I try to figure out where I need to be. Thankfully, someone passing by takes pity on me and directs me to the front desk, where I manage to get my name out amidst the constantly ringing phone on the counter.
The girl there is apologetic and kind, but I don't have time to wait around. My schedule today is packed, and I've got places to be. I'm used to having more hands on deck, because this is all too much for one person to organize and maintain, and being without an assistant is driving me mad.
