Min-jae Park's eyes snapped open at 5:00 AM. The blaring alarm on his phone felt like a drill in his skull. He slapped it off and lay there, staring at the cracked ceiling of his cramped Gangnam-edge apartment. Four walls, one window overlooking a noisy alley. Last night's ramen spill replayed in his head—Ha-eun's furious face, broth everywhere. What had he signed up for?
He swung his legs off the bed, feet hitting cold linoleum. Coffee. Priority one. He shuffled to the kitchenette, poured water into the old machine, added cheap grounds. Black, no sugar. The bitter steam hit his face as it brewed. He sipped the first mug standing, watching Seoul stir outside. Delivery scooters zipped by already. Normal folks starting normal days. Not him. Idol assistant? Laughable.
Quick shower—scalding water woke him full. He dried off, picked clothes with care: faded black jeans that fit right, plain gray t-shirt under a zipped hoodie, worn sneakers. Mr. Kim's voice echoed from yesterday: "Look reliable. Blend. No screaming fan energy." Min-jae ran a comb through his short black hair, checked stubble—clean enough. Grabbed keys, helmet, out the door by 6:20.
Scooter roared to life. Full tank, good tires. He took backstreets, dodging early trucks, wind whipping his face. Dawn painted the Han River in soft pinks and golds. Peaceful for a minute. Ha-eun's building loomed—sleek tower in fancy Gangnam, doormen in uniforms, cameras everywhere. He pulled up to the side gate at 6:45, buzzed the intercom.
A deep voice crackled. "State business."
"Park Min-jae. Here for Choi Ha-eun. Lumi's new assistant."
Pause. "ID to main gate. Move."
He parked, strode over. Security booth guy—big arms, bored face—scanned his delivery ID, agency temp pass from Mr. Kim. Grunted approval. "Elevator to fifteenth. Don't touch doors."
Lobby marble shone like ice. Min-jae's sneakers squeaked echoes. Elevator ride silent, smooth. Ding—floor 15. He knocked light on the glossy door.
It flew open. Not Ha-eun. Short girl, hair in wild ponytail, pink cat pajamas, mug steaming in hand. Ji-won, Ha-eun's roommate—he recalled from concert blur. She yawned huge, eyes squinting. "Ramen disaster dude? Damn, you're punctual."
"6:50. Better early."
Grin split her face. "Smart man. Inside. Coffee? Ha-eun's still in shower coma."
Apartment assaulted the senses. Lumi posters plastered walls—Ha-eun in stage lights, smiling flawless. Makeup stations overflowed with palettes, brushes, lotions. Huge mirror for dance practice took one wall. Kitchen gleamed sterile: green juices, yogurt packs, protein bars. Zero junk—no chips, no soda cans. Idol discipline.
Ji-won poured from a fancy pot. Mug slid his way. "Black fine? We got cream if princess mode."
"Black's perfect." Hot, strong. He sipped, warmth chasing sleep away.
She hopped onto counter. "Ha-eun ranted till midnight. 'Broth monster ruining my life.' But her old assistant? Sketchy perv. Quit touching stuff. You might last a week."
Min-jae eyed the table. "Schedule ready?"
"Printed there. Bible for today." She tapped stack. Pages crammed.
7:15AM - Van pickup downstairs
8:00AM - Dance studio practice (3 hours min)
12:00PM - Live radio interview
2:00PM - Quick lunch run
4:00PM - Mall fan signing (3+ hours)
7:00PM - Investor dinner meet
"Your jobs: lug bags, grab food exact, fix any tech crap. Mic dies? You. Phone low? Charge it. Don't spill."
He scanned lines. Packed. "Got it. She picky eater?"
Ji-won laughed. "Bibimbap no rice, veggies heavy. Test you soon."
Bathroom door creaked. Ha-eun emerged, white towel turban on dripping hair, massive gray hoodie drowning her slim frame, black bike shorts peeking. No stage glam—bare face showed faint freckles across nose, dark circles under eyes. Looked younger, vulnerable. Real.
She stopped dead. "You. Already invading?"
"Traffic light. 6:50 on dot."
Grabbed yogurt from fridge, ripped lid, spoon attacked. Peach flavor. "Rules clear? Hands off my gear. Public: three steps back, shadow only. Talk if I ask first. Understood?"
Voice sharp, eyes harder. Min-jae met gaze steady. "Crystal, boss lady."
Ji-won cackled. "Ooh, unnie, he's got sass. Grumpy hot. Like drama lead."
Ha-eun whipped head. "Zip it, Ji-won. Not auditioning boyfriend."
Clock hit 7:15. Out door. Min-jae's scooter too tiny for passenger. Black agency van idled curbside—Mr. Kim at wheel, tie straight, coffee thermos in holder. "Load up. Studio run."
Practice room in agency high-rise: endless mirrors reflecting infinity, polished wood floor scarred from kicks, speakers mounted high. Ha-eun ducked to change room. Returned in skin-tight black leggings, loose white tank—muscles flexed subtle as she stretched.
Min-jae parked in dim corner. Her duffel bag thumped down: spare clothes, towel, water bottles, chargers, makeup kit, phone. He plugged everything, tested outlets.
Music exploded—"Glow Up" heavy beat remix. Choreographer, wiry man with mic headset and clipboard, clapped sharp. "Full run! Ha-eun, arms lock higher on the eight! Smile kills it—go!"
She dove in. Body flowed: hip pops, sharp spins, hair whips. Sweat beaded forehead after lap one. Droplets flew on jumps. Nailed 90%, but high kick faltered twice—foot drag. Blisters rubbed raw inside shoes; Min-jae spotted red peek, her quick grimace.
Hour two: tweaks. Choreo yelled, "Drop lower! Hit the floor!" She pushed, breaths ragged. Min-jae passed water silent. She gulped, nodded micro.
11:00 break. Ha-eun crashed bench, peeled shoes. "Lunch now. Bibimbap from that spot three blocks east. No rice base, double beef and veggies, gochujang drizzle only. Iced green tea, no ice melt. Go."
Min-jae pocketed her cash wad—avoided peeking amounts. Scootered out, dodged pedestrians. Shop line snaked; vendor knew order type. Paid, balanced hot bowl on bike. Back 21 minutes.
"Hot. Blow first." Handed over.
She inhaled steam, dove in. Chewed slow. "Portions right. Not drowned. Okay job."
His stomach rumbled loud. Lunch? Later.
Noon radio. Mr. Kim floored it through yellows. Min-jae backseat, gear box on lap. Ha-eun front, practicing lines to mirror visor. "Keep flirty light. Laugh easy."
Studio smelled old coffee, vinyl records. DJ—gelled hair, flashy shirt—grinned mic-ready. "Lumi in house! 'Glow Up' owning charts. Quick fire: secret crush? Dating tea?"
Ha-eun leaned mic, smile dazzling. "Boys? Nah, music's my man. Fans my heart!" Laughter tinkled perfect.
Booth view: fingers twisted hem white-knuckled. Pro mask, inside storm. Min-jae admired grit.
2 PM lunch echo—hers done, his skipped. Fan sign 4 sharp. Mall atrium mobbed. Line coiled like snake—400+ fans, signs waving "Lumi Forever!" Table setup: albums pyramid, posters, Sharpies rainbow.
Ha-eun waved bubbly. Signed fast: hearts, names, "Love you!" Poses: peace signs, hugs air.
Min-jae hustled: fresh water bottles, pen refills when ink died, merch bags for VIPs. Fans buzzed him. "Oppa, Lumi boyfriend?" Teen girl batted lashes.
"Just staff," he mumbled.
Pushy fan bull-rushed line end. Lanky guy, fan chant loud. "Lumi! Be mine! Sign my chest!"
Security tackled. Shove riot—album cart flipped. Min-jae lunged, caught mid-fall stack. Steady arms. "Cool it, dude."
Guy dragged off grumbling. Ha-eun caught eye, mouthed silent "thanks." Smile real second.
Event crawled to 7:15. Ha-eun's hand cramped mid-sign; Min-jae slipped under-table rub quick—thumbs firm circles. She jerked subtle but let 10 seconds. "Enough."
Van escape. She melted seat. "Head splitting. Lights killed me."
Mr. Kim mirror-checked. "Investor dinner locked. 8 PM spot."
Min-jae fronted. "Skip. She crashes hard tomorrow."
Eyes snapped his. "My call."
Mr. Kim hummed. "Park's right. Reschedule. Instinct gold."
Home unload 8 PM. Min-jae loitered gate—text ping: Mr. Kim. "Night watch. Idols ping 24/7."
Ji-won hauled him up. Ha-eun post-shower, sweats loose. "Loitering?"
"Duty."
Couch claim. TV flicked—rom-com rerun. "Join or stare wall."
Min-jae end spot. Ice silence.
"Chatty type off-duty?" she poked.
"Words cost energy."
"Spill energy free yesterday."
Chuckle escaped. "Fair. Idol truth? Glam or grind?"
"Grind wins. Dad's heart meds stack bills. Stage pays big." Pause. "Mom situation same?"
"Yeah. Chronic. This gig buys time."
Eyes softened fraction. Ji-won invaded popcorn mountain. "Movie marathon! Explosions incoming."
Flick blasted: car chases, booms. Ha-eun giggled genuine at hero quips. Min-jae snorted. Ji-won whooped. Rare bubble—no cameras, real laughs.
10:30. Ha-eun yawned lion. "Lights out. Bail."
Min-jae dipped. Day survived. Wins tiny.
Storm hit Saturday dawn.
6 AM gate. Overnight fan camp exploded—tents, glowsticks, chants "Lumi! Lumi!" Phones filmed all.
Mr. Kim call panic tone. "Viral rumor! You dating. Fan pic—water handoff looks cozy. Twitter meltdown."
Min-jae scrolled quick: #LumiMysteryGuy trending. Hearts, jealousy.
"Back alley pickup. Agency war room stat."
Ji-won yanked door frantic. "Paps breached lobby!"
Ha-eun bolted hoodie-masked. "You leak that?"
"Never."
Van tires screeched away. Agency fifth floor: Director Lee stormed, heels clicking, flanked suits. Laptops screamed alerts.
"Scandal drop two? Sabotage city!" Lee spat.
Mr. Kim recapped sticker hire.
Lee pierced Min-jae. "Earn keep or evaporate."
Dance cut. Emergency shoot. Ha-eun gown-swapped under hot lights. Min-jae reflector duty, sweat own.
Lunch sprint. Scooter sputtered dead—battery fried cold night. Pushed two blocks groaning to shop. Mechanic scratched head. "Parts tomorrow earliest."
Cabbed food back. Epic jam—45 late. Photographer vein-pop. "Idiot temp! Delay kills light!"
Ha-eun flared. "Back off him. Gear issue, not brain."
Min-jae gawked. Ally?
Wrap 5 PM. Rehearsal grind. New choreo—Ha-eun spin-slip, ankle roll bad. Swell ballooned purple.
"Ice stat." Min-jae fetched, knelt, wrapped tape-tight gentle. "Deep breaths. Roll it slow."
Hiss pain. "Damn. Owe big."
Door slam. Mr. Kim white-faced. "Sticker scam! Seung-ho rival camp forged it on ramen bag. Spy plant to tank Lumi debut. You're marked 'infiltrator.' Leaks everywhere."
Min-jae chilled bone-deep. "Promo real—swear."
"Verified fake stamp. Concert clip viral: your spill close-up. Comments: 'Hired creep!' Agency freakout."
Ha-eun searched face. "Loyal?"
"Life on it." Proof? Zilch.
Director boomed hall. "Interrogation room. Clean or cut."
Chants swelled outside. Ji-won SOS text: Paps door-kick.
Office march, Ha-eun phone erupted—new leak: dab-spill vid HD. Rage storm: "Touchy stalker!"
Trust? Shredded. Chaos throne.