Ding! Ding! Ding!" Welcome to the forty-fourth floor rooftop," the automated system chimed as the elevator doors slid open.
Manager Bons and I stepped out beneath the vast dome. A simulated sky stretched above us, the rooftop dressed in a sea of drifting clouds, as though the meeting were taking place high above the heavens. I lowered my left foot cautiously onto the cloudlike floor
Thud! solid as concrete despite looking impossibly soft. Everything felt surreal, and yet perfectly convincing.
Ahead, a long conference table awaited, ten figures in sharp suits standing in anticipation.
"Ah, Seokjin, Bonsong you're right on time," the executive from SPI greeted us warmly, gesturing toward the others.
"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce two important guests Seokjin, one of SPI's most successful boy group artists this year. Wolves Kiss!"
Applause rippled through the hall. I bowed slightly in gratitude before taking the last empty chair. My eyes scanned the room. Faces I recognized, industry leaders, the kind of people whose words carried weight. Exciting, yes, but also dull. Their talk was all business, endless chatter I could hardly bring myself to care about.
Except for one man.
At the far end sat a figure apart from the others: a man with long teal hair tied in a ponytail, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly as if to make himself heard. His nails were painted jet black, glowing with neon letters: on his right hand, Begin; on his left, Again. Unlike everyone else, he slouched with his back to the table, spinning his chair lazily before tipping it back and flashing a sly grin.
I knew that face. Jang Jun-Ho better known as Iris of D\8/ soon to be replaced by a newcomer. I remembered him from years ago, back when I was just a part-timer at a convenience store. He had changed, more than I could have imagined.
His smile radiated joy, as if a dove had taken flight from his lips. Strange, I thought why smile like that, when he was being pushed aside? At twenty-seven, the eldest of his group, he should've been bitter. Yet he wasn't. His gaze drifted toward me, then to the other four artists invited to the SHIFT, all masked save for myself.
"(Blah, blah, blah…)" I caught the shape of his lips as he muttered under his breath.
"(Silly little boys, aren't they?)"
I stared back, caught by the delicate balance of softness and sharpness in his features. His lip and nose piercings glinted like polished pearls, his earrings shaped like a reaper's scythe catching the light. Then suddenly his eyes flared blue, clashing directly with the faint pink glow of mine.
Fwoom!
Startled, I looked away. But curiosity dragged me back to him.
On his holographic nails, a new word gleamed:심-심-하-다[1]
He propped his chin on his palm, letting me take in the shifting letters before they changed again:생-각-해[2]
And finally, with a lazy flick of his finger angled right at my chair, the message shimmered into view:커-피- 마-실-래?[3]
Despite myself, the corner of my mouth tugged into a smile.
[1] (Boring.)
[2] (Don't you think?)
[3] (Want to ditch this and grab a coffee?)