The phone vibrated, breaking the heavy silence in the pitch-black room. It was as dark as the depths of an Amazonian night. After a few seconds, the room fell silent once more.
"Yes?"
"Hey, isn't the guy in the latest news looking a lot like you?"
"Shut up, Pong."
"No, I mean it. It's from the club you work at, so I thought you might know this bastard."
"Stop with your bullshit, Pong."
Without another word, he disconnected the call, his grip tightening around the phone as panic and anger surged through him once again.
"It's all because of you," he muttered, hurling the device onto his bed before pulling out an empty canvas. He carried it outside to the lawn, desperate to lose himself in painting again.
As he looked up, the golden morning sunlight cast a warm glow on his face. The birds were awake, filling the air with their melodies, their songs weaving through the crisp dawn air. A small smile tugged at his lips.
"Beautiful and soothing," he whispered.
Settling into the chair in front of the enormous canvas, he stretched, then picked up his brush and began painting right away.
---☆---
The reception area of the New Entertainment Building buzzed with chatter. But the moment they arrived, a hush spread across the room like a ripple in still water.
Four men dressed in sleek black attire moved through the space with effortless dominance. They didn't need to ask people to step aside—everyone already had.
Stopping in front of an imposing office door, their gazes flicked to the bold black letters engraved across it:
"CELINE: THE MANAGER."
One of them knocked.
A faint "Come in."
One by one, they entered.
Behind a sleek, cushioned chair, a young woman sat, her fingers dancing across her laptop's keyboard. The blue glow of the screen reflected off her glasses, making her eyes gleam sharply.
"Excuse me?" A deep voice cut through the quiet.
Slowly, she looked up.
"Oh. So it's the four of you again," Celine remarked, not even slightly surprised.
"Can't you guess?" one of them teased.
"That's why I asked."
"No nonsense today. Just give us the schedule for our upcoming concert and the new song recordings."
"What's the rush, Kai? It's happening next month," she raised a brow.
"We need to start prepping early. Plus, the director told us to get the details from you."
Celine sighed, already expecting that answer.
"Fine. I'll email it to all four of you soon."
They nodded and turned to leave. But just as the last one was about to step out, he hesitated.
Celine glanced up. "What is it, Kai?"
"Uh… Nothing. Actually, could you do me a favour?" His voice was softer now.
"Yeah, just say it."
"Can you get an art tutor for my sister?"
Celine raised her brows. "You mean Cherry?"
Kai nodded.
"Hmm. I'll see what I can do. But just to confirm—would you like a girl or a boy?" she joked.
Kai snorted. "Anyone's fine, as long as they're a good person and, most importantly, not a sasaeng."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll make sure of that," Celine assured him.
Satisfied, Kai left, and as soon as the door clicked shut, Celine pulled out her phone and dialled a number.
"Pong, I need an art tutor."
"Yeah, yeah, I have one in my contacts."
"Oh, that's perfect! Send me their details."
Moments later, she received a contact labelled "Noah" from Pong. Smirking, she immediately made the call.
---
Noah was deep into his painting when his phone suddenly rang, jolting him from his thoughts. He wedged it between his shoulder and ear.
"Hello?"
"Congratulations, bro! You got yourself a job!" Pong's excited voice nearly made Noah drop his phone.
He set it down again, scowling. "The hell? I didn't even apply for one. What are you even talking about?"
"Bro, it's just an art tutor job. Nothing big."
"What? No. Not going to happen."
"I wasn't asking, Noah. I was telling you. And FYI, someone's gonna call you at 9 AM. Trust me, the pay is good."
"Wait—who—"
Click.
The call disconnected before Noah could protest further. He stared at the phone, baffled.
How had his life just taken this turn? And more importantly—who the hell was he about to work for?
What he didn't realize was that this moment was just the eerie silence before the storm. A storm that was about to change everything