#gyeongwon

[themoongirls]

230928 | kimxxlip instagram reel - Kim Lip with Kang Gyeongwon 🦉

Love lee~ last ride🚗

[kpopfan861]

[9823678]

[multiphandomunnies]

Yuha

gf! yuha

stop that

hug me

[shuaestheist]

cassette

characters: kyungwon (hinapia), jeonghan (seventeen) summary: the only remnants of their past is a single cassette and countless regrets. word count: 600-700 genre: angst content warning: mention of death inspiration: disturbance (boa)

It's been a month since Jeonghan and Kyungwon broke up. It's been a month since Kyungwon died as well. 

It was a horrible accident, Kyungwon's death. The two had a big fight and broke up. Kyungwon left his place with tears pouring from her eyes. As she crossed the road, she got hit by a delivery truck. She was declared dead on arrival. Now, Jeonghan could do nothing but stare at the ring he gave his dead lover.

The doorbell of his house rang, breaking the silence. Sluggishly, he answers the door. "A package for Mr. Jeonghan Yoon? From Ms. Kyungwon Kang," at the mention of her name, his head lifted and his lifeless eyes glimmered with confusion and longing. A package? From his dead girlfriend? He took the package and signed the papers. 

Jeonghan sits in the living room, opening the box. It was a single cassette, the case bearing her face that shined like the sun. "Of course, you knew I preferred cassettes," he smiles bitterly and reached beside him, taking the cassette player that was always there. The blonde pops the tape in and presses play.

[ PLAY ] May 22, 2017.Hi, Hannie oppa. It's me, Kyungwonnie. I made this tape since I do feel like we're breaking up soon. So if you're listening to this, that means I'm gone. Right?Anyways, I wanted to say I was very very happy with our relationship. I love you, you love me. We promised each other that we would walk down the aisle and get married to each other in the near future. I... really love you. So so much. But these days... we don't seem to get along. W-we always fight, it's like w-we don't know each other anymore. Ah~ why am I crying?  [ PAUSE ]

At this point, tears streaked Jeonghan's cheeks again. He remembers the calls she sent that he disregarded in favor of hanging with his friends, for some hookups too. Jeonghan thought that Kyungwon was too clingy and whiny. Oh how he wished it wasn't so, how he wished he didn't think that way.

[ PLAY ] Yeah. You ignored my calls. We barely met. It's like we were strangers all over again. You know, I would cry to Minkyeong every time you missed my call. Minkyeong would tell me that you're tired of me, that I should find another. But I didn't want to. I would just say that you're busy and that I'll wait for you, cause I knew you'd come back to me. I'm holding on to the promise you made me. But I did see. I see you being cold to me. I see you being indifferent and irritated with me. I see that you weren't meeting my eyes. I see that your heart and mine weren't... in sync anymore. You changed in front of me.Was I boring? Was I too clingy? Too annoying? Too obsessive? Tell me... I want to change for you. I want to be the girl you want.I can't even remember that sweet look you gave me whenever we had a date. Nor the hugs and warmth you gave me when we cuddled on your couch. You saw me get sad and yet, you didn't even comfort me.I'm still here, though you're already fading from my life. I can't even imagine you crying over me.... [ PAUSE ]

After that statement, silence enveloped the complex. Jeonghan thought it was broken or it was done. Just as his thumb hovered over the stop button, Kyungwon started speaking again.

Jeonghan started breaking down with the next words.

[ PLAY ] Maybe my I love you's weren't enough.[ PAUSE ]

Her voice enveloped him. Jeonghan looked up to see Kyungwon kneeling in front of him with a watery smile. 

"Maybe I just want to hear you say one last I love you to me,"

Jeonghan cried out, whispering I love you over and over again to the girl in front of him. As he reached out to her, she disappeared like a mirage. The cassette stopped and popped open.

Kyungwon was gone forever and Jeonghan was so stupid to let the love of his life go.

If only he could rewind time.

[katarlnabluu]

Yoongi x concubine reader

The palace was no place for love.

Only duty. Obedience. Blood.

And yet, beneath the gold-leaf ceiling of Gyeongwon Hall, behind carved screens and perfumed silks, your body remembered love in the form of bruising kisses and whispered lies.

Min Yoongi—the Emperor—was a man cold as jade, his affection rarer than snow in summer. But you, one among dozens of concubines, were the only one who ever warmed his bed twice in the same week.

Even the Empress, divine and ruthless in her own right, couldn’t draw him close long enough to bear the heir she so desperately needed.

⸻

You were nothing but a servant when you were chosen. Another flower among many. Young. Obedient. Easy.

You hadn’t understood the look in Yoongi’s eyes the first time he called for you. You’d thought it was kindness. Mercy.

But no.

It was possession.

The first night he took you—no one had warned you how quiet he could be, how cold his fingers felt as they undid the knots of your robe. You’d trembled on silk sheets, more frightened than ready, and he had only stared.

“You belong to me now,” he’d whispered, dragging his lips across your throat like a brand. ��No matter what they call you.”

You had cried. It had hurt.

But he hadn’t stopped.

And when he spilled inside you that night, emptying himself with a low groan against your ear, you hadn’t known that you’d become his favorite by morning.

⸻

It was dangerous, being favored. The Empress had begun to notice. The other concubines had long since started to hate you. They whispered behind fans and scented sleeves, called you “that girl who smiles too easily” or “the Emperor’s plaything.”

But you were too dazed, too enamored, too naive to see the blood in their eyes.

Late at night, he came to you in secret—his voice quiet, footsteps softer than a shadow. His robes smelled of cold incense and metal, and he kissed you like he hated you for existing.

“You shouldn’t wait for me,” he said once, while pressing you into the lacquered wood of his study, her silk fan crushed beneath your palms. “I never promised you love.”

And yet he still came.

The Empress, desperate, cornered him in court: “I will give you an heir. You need only lie with me.”

He said nothing. He only turned away.

You, oblivious, wrapped in daydreams and the warmth of his last visit, never saw the court’s fury sharpening against your throat.

But soon, you will.

⸻

You were brought into the palace at sixteen, when your village paid tribute to the Emperor with silk, spices, and beauty. They chose you because you smiled too easily and bowed too quickly. The officials called it grace. In truth, it was fear.

You thought you'd be placed among the garden keepers. Maybe the dancers.

But the Emperor looked at you once—once—and you were sent to the Lotus Wing.

No one explained what that meant until the night you bathed in jasmine water and a palace maid brushed your hair seventy-seven times in silence.

He came after midnight, dressed not in royal robes, but in black silk.

"You," he said, voice soft as falling ash. "You're too pretty for the servants’ quarters."

And just like that, your life was never yours again.

⸻

Min Yoongi did not speak more than he had to. His court feared him. His generals respected him. His empress resented him.

He did not laugh. He did not smile. But his hands—when on your skin—shook like someone desperate to feel.

You learned quickly that he was not kind. But he was meticulous. Every time he undressed you, it was ritual. Every time he entered you, it was slow and calculated, until your thighs trembled and your body pulsed around him.

He never kissed your lips.

Only your throat, your breasts, the curve of your spine—places that would bruise.

And every time he spilled inside you—warm, possessive, filling you deep—you wondered if this was what love felt like in the palace.

⸻

She was beautiful. And cruel.

You met her once in the garden. She walked beside you, smiling like a blade. "You’ve grown lovely," she murmured, plucking a camellia. "The Emperor always had an eye for broken things."

You curtsied, afraid to speak. Her ladies laughed behind their fans.

That night, Yoongi did not visit.

Two days later, he came to you under moonlight, dragging you to his private library like a thief. He took you over the desk—books falling, parchment tearing—and fucked you hard enough that you sobbed his name.

"She won’t take you from me," he whispered against your shoulder, teeth grazing your flesh. "She can’t."

But the Empress had begun her campaign.

⸻

You started to notice the change.

The way he held your wrists tighter. The way he said your name less. How he didn’t look at you after he came inside you—just pulled away, silent, and left you aching.

You were too easy. Too hopeful.

And too jealous.

You heard the other concubines boast. That he had touched them. Spoken to them. Visited their wings.

And even though he never stopped coming to you… he no longer stayed.

You began to cry alone, fingering the bruises he left like they were medals.

Maybe, you thought, he never loved you at all.

One night, he left behind a scroll. Sealed in wax. Your name on it.

You broke it open with shaking hands.

Inside: nothing but a pressed camellia. Crimson. Crushed.

You held it until dawn.

And that night, when he came again, you refused to undress.

He looked at you—cold, unreadable. "Do you think you belong to yourself now?"

You said nothing.

So he undressed you himself.

⸻

The Empress made her move.

A public plea before the Council of Elders: she would give him an heir, if only he stopped wasting seed on the concubines.

The court gasped. The officials nodded. The ministers approved.

You waited that night, but Yoongi never came.

Instead, a servant delivered a new robe. Red. Imperial.

And a note: "Wear this. Don’t speak. You’re mine."

He took you in the Hall of Jade, where any of them could walk in. Bent you over silken cushions. Fucked you hard, slow, cruel—until you were sobbing, gasping, creaming around him.

"You think she owns my throne," he whispered, teeth against your ear, "but you own what matters."

He spilled inside you, deep and desperate.

And for a moment, you believed him.

Now, the palace watches. The Empress plots. The concubines whisper.

And you… you wait.

Because no matter how hard he pulls you close, he never promises tomorrow.

Because love in the palace isn’t eternal.

It’s forbidden.

And so are you.

⸻

Whispers bloom like mold in dark corners of the palace.

They say one of the concubines has missed her moon cycle—whispers that ripple like poison in tea.

You do not know it is you, not yet.

Until one of the Empress's spies offers you a strange tea and smiles too sweetly.

You pretend to sip. You do not swallow.

Later that night, your body aches in ways you do not understand. You bleed. You bleed too much.

And when Yoongi comes, he sees the stain on the sheets.

"What did you drink?" he demands, colder than winter. "Who gave it to you?"

You don't answer.

Because even now, even broken, you are too afraid to be a burden.

⸻

You collapse two nights later.

The physician says it was poison laced in contraceptive tea—meant not to kill, but to ensure you would never carry again.

The Empress is never named, never blamed.

But Yoongi doesn’t leave your side for three days.

He sits by your bed, hands clasped, unmoving.

When you wake, he looks at you like you’re a ghost. "I should’ve protected you."

You smile, too weak to lie.

"You still can," you whisper.

He kisses your hand—not your lips.

And for the first time, you wonder if he regrets ever loving you.

You collapse two nights later.

The physician says it was poison laced in contraceptive tea—meant not to kill, but to ensure you would never carry again.

The Empress is never named, never blamed.

But Yoongi doesn’t leave your side for three days.

He sits by your bed, hands clasped, unmoving.

When you wake, he looks at you like you’re a ghost. "I should’ve protected you."

You smile, too weak to lie.

"You still can," you whisper.

He kisses your hand—not your lips.

And for the first time, you wonder if he regrets ever loving you.

He no longer visits the Empress.

No longer sees other concubines.

He holds court and returns to you—always you.

But it is not out of love.

It is guilt.

You see it in the way he touches you: reverent, not hungry.

Until one night, he comes to you with a silk-wrapped bundle.

Inside is a dagger.

"Use this if she comes for you again," he says.

You look at him, heart cold. "And if it’s you she sends?"

He does not answer.

⸻

It starts with a scream.

Then smoke.

The East Wing—the Empress’s chambers—burns under moonlight.

No bodies are found.

No answers are given.

But by morning, Yoongi declares the Empress dead of unknown causes.

And you—draped in mourning robes—are named the Royal Consort.

Not Empress. Not wife.

But close enough to draw blood.

[omiomi]

You guys loved the first part, so I js had to make a second part!🤭

—

Master list

Part 1

Code Red: Unfinished Sutures (Part 2)

Baek Kang Hyuk x Fem!Reader

Inside the crowded medical tent, the team worked in synchronized chaos. The air smelled of antiseptic and sweat, the rhythmic beeping of monitors the only thing grounding them amidst the whirlwind of trauma care.

Baek Kang-Hyuk finished suturing a patient’s wound when he noticed Jaewon, Jangmi, and Gyeongwon staring at him from across the room.

He ignored them.

Jaewon leaned toward Jangmi. "He’s pretending we’re not here."

Gyeongwon snorted. "Because he knows we have questions."

Baek sighed, tossing his gloves in the disposal bin. "If you have something to say, say it."

Jaewon grinned. "So. Malaika, huh?"

Baek didn’t react. "What about her?"

Jangmi crossed her arms. "Come on, Dr. Baek. You said her name like it meant something."

"It’s a name," Baek replied flatly.

Gyeongwon raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you’ve never reacted to anyone the way you reacted to her."

Jaewon smirked. "You looked like you’d seen a ghost. A very pretty ghost."

Baek exhaled sharply. "*Focus on your patients.*"

Jangmi wasn’t letting up. "So, what’s the deal? Former colleague? Ex-girlfriend?"

Jaewon gasped dramatically. "Former lover?!"

Baek shot him a glare. "Don’t be ridiculous."

"Okay, but you know her," Gyeongwon pressed. "And it’s personal."

Baek didn’t answer.

Jaewon grinned. "So it is personal."

Baek turned to Gyeongwon. "You’re supposed to be the rational one."

Gyeongwon just shrugged. "I’m curious too."

Baek pinched the bridge of his nose, regretting every life choice that led him to this moment.

Finally, he muttered, "She’s a reckless idiot who doesn’t know when to stop.”

Jangmi grinned. "And you care."

Baek looked away. "That’s not the point."

Jaewon nudged Gyeongwon. "It’s totally the point."

Before Baek could respond, a soldier burst into the tent, panting.

"Dr. Baek! We need your help—we have an emergency!"

Jangmi exchanged a look with Jaewon. "Guess we’ll get our answers soon."

Jaewon smirked. "Let’s see how not personal this is."

Baek ignored them and grabbed his med kit.

"Move out. Now."

—

"Malaika! We need your help—we have an emergency!"

The panicked voice tore Y/N from the two-hour nap she had barely managed to steal. Her body screamed in protest, but years of experience had taught her to push through exhaustion. She grabbed her gear and rushed out of the tent, her boots kicking up dust as she ran.

Outside, the sky was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning metal mixing with blood and dirt. Gunfire rattled in the distance—closer than before.

"What happened?" she demanded, strapping on her gloves as she met a frantic soldier.

"Ambush near the main road. Civilians injured—some critical. We need to get them out before they bleed out or the syndicate gets to them first!"

Y/N's pulse spiked, but she shoved the panic down. "How many?"

"Five that we know of. Maybe more."

She nodded sharply. "Get a vehicle ready. We’re bringing them back."

"You don’t need to go yourself, doc," the soldier hesitated. "It’s dangerous out there."

Y/N scoffed. "Yeah? So will you be if you stop me again. Move."

The soldier swallowed hard and nodded, sprinting toward the waiting vehicle. Y/N adjusted her kit, mentally preparing for what she would see—bullet wounds, shattered limbs, faces contorted in pain. She had done this a hundred times before.

Still, she wasn’t prepared for what she saw when she reached the road.

The first patient was already loaded into a transport, but two more lay in the dirt, bleeding out. And crouched beside one of them, hands slick with crimson, was a figure she never expected to see again.

Baek Kang-Hyuk.

The breath caught in her throat.

"Malak?" she murmured before she could stop herself.

His head snapped up, and for a brief second, amidst the chaos, their eyes met.

Recognition. Shock. And then—irritation.

Baek scowled. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?"

Her brain snapped back into action. "Jae-Won, take over the other patient! I’ll handle this one!"

She dropped to her knees beside Baek, barely registering the way their shoulders brushed. The soldier he was working on had taken a shot to the side—too much blood loss.

"Pressure," she ordered, reaching for a hemostat.

“Already on it," Baek muttered, shifting to make room for her.

Their hands moved in perfect synchronization, sealing the wound with practiced efficiency. For all their personal conflicts, in an emergency, they were seamless.

"BP dropping," Jae-Won called from the other side. "Shit—he’s going into shock!"

"Move him to the truck!" Y/N ordered.

Baek barely spared her a glance before lifting the patient with one smooth motion. Just as they started toward the vehicle, another explosion rocked the ground beneath them.

"GET DOWN!"

Baek barely had time to react before instinct took over—his arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her close just as the explosion sent them flying. They hit the ground hard, his body twisting at the last second to shield her from the worst of the impact.

For a moment, the world blurred into ringing silence, the air thick with dust and smoke.

Y/N groaned, her breath uneven as she stirred against him. "I hate this job."

Baek let out a sharp breath, his hold on her tightening for just a second longer than necessary. "Then quit," he shot back, his voice rough.

Ignoring him, she shifted, her fingers grazing his temple where a thin streak of blood trailed down his skin. "Are you bleeding?" Her tone was softer now, almost careful.

"Not mine," he muttered, but he didn’t move, letting her touch linger for just a second longer than necessary. His eyes locked onto hers, something unreadable flickering in their depths.

A breath passed between them—unspoken, heavy, undeniable.

Then reality snapped back. Baek exhaled sharply, forcing himself upright. "Truck’s hit," he said, voice steadier now. "We can’t take the road back."

But even as he pulled away, his fingers still tingled with the memory of holding her close.

Y/N cursed under her breath. "Then how the hell do we get out of here?"

A soldier sprinted toward them, panting. "Doctor—Dr. Baek! The secondary transport was shot down. We need to move, now!"

Baek ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. Then his eyes flicked to something behind her.

Y/N turned, following his gaze.

A motorcycle.

She blinked. "Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."

Baek was already moving. "You coming, or are you planning to stay and argue?"

She clenched her jaw. "I hate you."

"You’ll hate getting shot more," he quipped, swinging onto the bike. "Get on."

The soldiers loaded the remaining injured onto a makeshift stretcher attached to the back of a second bike. Y/N hesitated for half a second before climbing behind him, gripping his waist tightly.

Baek glanced over his shoulder. "Hold on."

"I am holding on," she snapped.

"Not for yourself," he muttered under his breath, just low enough that she almost didn’t catch it.

But she did.

Before she could say anything, Baek gunned the engine, and they shot forward.

The battlefield blurred around them—gunfire cracking past their heads, the burning wreckage of vehicles flashing in their periphery.

"Left!" she shouted.

"I see it!"

Baek swerved hard, narrowly dodging a collapsed building. The road ahead was blocked—fighters were closing in.

Y/N’s heart pounded. "We need another route!"

"Working on it!"

A bullet whizzed past, narrowly missing her shoulder. She turned, pulling her handgun from her holster.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Baek barked.

"Saving our asses!" she retorted, firing a shot that took down one of their pursuers.

Baek cursed but didn’t argue. Instead, he kicked the bike into a higher gear. The cityscape was a blur as they weaved through debris, dodging bullets and explosions.

"Almost there!"

Just then, a sniper's shot rang out.

A sharp, searing pain tore through Y/N's shoulder.

She gasped, her grip slipping. The shock of it made her vision blur for a second, but Baek reacted instantly, one hand leaving the handlebars to grab her wrist and keep her steady.

"Stay with me!" he ordered.

"I'm fine," she grit out.

"You're bleeding," he snapped.

"I'm fine," she repeated, tighter this time.

Baek's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. Instead, he pushed the bike harder, racing against the gunfire until, finally, they reached the safe zone.

As soon as they skidded to a stop, Baek jumped off and turned to her. His eyes immediately locked onto the blood soaking through her sleeve.

"Let me see," he demanded, reaching for her.

"I'm fine," Y/N repeated, pulling her arm away.

"Stop saying that," Baek snapped, frustration leaking into his voice. "You're bleeding. Let me help."

Y/N exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling rapidly. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

Baek stared after her, something unreadable in his expression.

"Y/N—"

She didn’t look back.

He watched as she disappeared into the medical tent, her silhouette fading into the flickering light.

Baek clenched his fists, his jaw tight.

Ah. So this is how she feels like every time I walked away from her.

Part 3

Hope you guys liked this!

[purplemountain]

Trauma Code: A Hero in Love

genre: workplace romance, comedy, mutual pinning, slow-burn, banter, suggestive

4.2: Code Blue – Parental Unit

Later that week, the trauma department was in chaos. A sudden multi-vehicle collision had brought in a wave of patients, and the team was moving like clockwork under pressure. Shouts echoed across the ER, machines beeped in warning tones, and gurneys rolled in one after another.

In the middle of it all, Dr. Baek Kanghyuk barked orders like a general on the battlefield.

“Get vitals on Bed 6 now!” “Where’s the portable X-ray? I asked five minutes ago!” “Who let this patient sit without oxygen? Are we running a hospital or a convenience store?”

The atmosphere was tense. A young intern flinched at his tone and nearly dropped the chart in her hands.

Then, like clockwork, Dr. Song Hyejoo appeared at his side.

Without saying a word, she walked up behind him and handed him a fresh cup of coffee, still hot. Her other hand gently reached up to adjust the collar of his scrub top, which had been askew from the rush. Kanghyuk barely paused, taking the coffee with a short grunt of thanks, his eyes still scanning the incoming stretchers.

But the effect was instant.

His next order came out just a bit more calmly. His shoulders relaxed—just barely, but noticeably. And when he turned to check on the intern he’d startled, his voice was lower, softer. “You okay?” he asked.

The intern nodded quickly, almost too stunned to speak. Hyejoo gave her a reassuring pat on the arm before turning back to join another triage.

In the breakroom, a few of the nurses and residents peeked through the glass window, having witnessed the whole interaction.

“Did… she just fix his collar and give him coffee mid-chaos?” “She really said: chill, honey, you’re scaring the children.” “I swear she’s the only one who can calm him down without getting yelled at.” “Yeah, well, when mom’s in the room, dad behaves.”

Jangmi, sipping from her water bottle, raised an eyebrow. “Give it a few more weeks. They’ll be holding hands over a shared chart.”

Jaewon grinned. “Not if Dr. Baek combusts first trying to flirt without looking like he’s flirting.”

Gyeongwon, not even looking up from his tablet, muttered dryly, “Too late. Man’s already down bad.”

The group erupted into hushed giggles before scattering back to work—each secretly hoping for the next “mom and dad” moment to unfold.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trauma Code: A Hero in Love - Chapter List

[banyun-gong]

Gyeongwon kang 강경원 (@kanggyeongwonn)

유하 Yuha@PRISTIN (姜京元/강경원) 1997年11月5日 T170cm

[stevengaystarphase]

Oc comic

Gyeongwon (glasses) and Seungjun

[themoongirls]

230712 | kanggyeongwonn instagram story - Kim Lip with Pristin/Hinapia Gyeongwon 🦉

💥Congratulations on the comeback💋💋

[kpopfan861]

[9823678]

[fcble]

PIANO CONCERTO IN A♭ MINOR, PART II: ADAGIO

In which Andrew attends a meeting. FEATURING: Andrew Han, Lee Taein, the Zenith Entertainment shareholders WORD COUNT: 3.2k SETTING: July 2024 NOTES: The second third of Andrew's Great Existential Crisis of 2024. You can read part one HERE.

The most unpleasant task Andrew was left with was representing Jaeseop at Zenith's biannual shareholder meeting. He dreads it, and yet it arrives anyway. He borrows a shirt and tie and suit jacket from Haksu so he can finally appear in front of Taein in a different formal outfit. 

Jaeseop both drilled facts in Andrew's head and left him a pile of notes. Altogether, Andrew still feels like he's walking into a lion's den.

He arrives precisely three minutes before the meeting starts, or, just in time to interrupt Taein’s introductory speech. Four people watch his grand entrance, and for once, Andrew isn’t upset at the barely controlled fury in Taein’s gaze. Every seat at the table is filled, but the table sits more than four people anyway, so Andrew drags a chair from the side of the room and seats himself in an empty spot, two spaces down from Taein, which is as far from him as he can get. According to Jaeseop, that’s where he sits in these meetings. Andrew has no qualms about taking his seat. 

The silence is palpable. Andrew breaks it. “Good morning, sajang-nim.” His gaze flicks around the other three people, mentally cataloguing their names and professions. Ahn Jinguk, the only barrier between Andrew and Taein, is likely a shady character. Jaeseop was surprisingly mum on his occupation and role. On Taein’s left is Kang Gyeongwon, the only woman in the room and the architect behind every Zenith Entertainment contract. Andrew has her to thank for the allowances in his updated contract, though he doubts those were her decisions. A gaudy Louis Vuitton handbag sits on the table next to her. The last person, seated next to her, is Jung Seobum, a representative of a venture capitalist firm and possibly the largest source of Taein’s money. Someone is missing. Andrew thinks for a few seconds and eventually drags the name Han Cheolhwan out of his subconscious. A police officer, by Jaeseop’s teachings.

Taein makes a noise that could possibly be mistaken for a similar sentiment. Andrew knows immediately that he won't be writing the next Fable album.

“Yejun-ssi,” Seobum greets from across the table. He appears to be the only person other than Taein who knows who Andrew is.

“Andrew,” Andrew corrects sharply.

“Of course. My apologies.” He sounds anything but apologetic. Though Andrew trusts Jaeseop and his notes, he wonders how Seobum could possibly be the friendliest person in the room.

Taein looks like he wants nothing more than to punt Andrew out of the room. Andrew had timed his arrival on purpose, ensuring he was last, because he knows Taein wouldn’t risk losing face in front of his shareholders by kicking him out. The only way he’s leaving this room is if the building security forcefully removes him, and that would most definitely lead to Taein’s loss of face.

“As I was saying before I was interrupted,” Taein says, with another pointed glare of unbridled hate in Andrew's direction, “you have most likely noticed our missing member. Cheolhwan-ssi will be indisposed for the foreseeable future.”

“You can say he's being investigated for bribery and is suspended from his job,” Gyeongwon says, arching one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

Taein inclines his head. “It could also be said in the way Gyeongwon-ssi has chosen to word it.”

The political tension in the room is stifling. Andrew wonders how Jaeseop can possibly stand it, even if he only has to deal with it twice a year. He pictures Jaeseop here instead, parleying with people twice his age, and okay, that isn’t difficult. He’s always been good at it. Andrew has his suspicions that Jaeseop would still be their leader, regardless of his relation to Taein. He hates that these are the people in charge of his career and his life. Taein is more concerned with himself and his profits. Andrew knows that much at least, and he assumes the rest of his investors are more of the same.

“Yuxuan?” Taein asks, and that's when Andrew notices his executive assistant in the back corner of the room, almost entirely blocked by a computer screen.

The lights dim, and the projector screen behind Taein lights up with a PowerPoint presentation: the Zenith Entertainment 2024 Q1 and 2 Retrospective.

“You all know why you're here,” he says, somewhat dismissively. “Next slide.”

The next slide is a short list of the company's activities. There isn't much to list. Most of what is there is familiar to Andrew, because most of it concerns Fable. 

“Neon Nights released their first English-language album in February. Their follow-up American tour was a success. Fable also successfully promoted their third full length album and completed their second world tour. Next slide.”

Andrew has never heard Taein speak so succinctly. He sounds almost bored, droning on about accomplishments. It occurs to Andrew that he never asked Jaeseop how long the meetings usually last. They're progressing faster than he expected. There might be enough time in the day for him to idle in Intak's studio for hours while he makes a poor attempt to work.

The next slide presents a clash of numbers and graphs. Andrew steals a glance around the room. No one seems surprised. Gyeongwon is taking notes, ballpoint pen looping a series of characters in a small notebook. He studies the graphs closer as Taein reads them out loud. Fable is responsible for a good two-thirds of the company’s revenue, based on his best guess of the largest blue section of the largest pie chart. He divides the number roughly into a 50/50 split—to cover the differences between album and tour profit distributions—and then divides the larger segment into five for the active members of the group. It resembles, to a certain extent, the numbers in Andrew's bank account. Taein may have his faults, but he pays them for their work. Finances don't worry Andrew too much, not with his songwriting royalties to supplement them.

The next largest segment of the graph is the magenta of Neon Nights, about half the size of Fable’s share, and roughly the same amount as Jaesun. Andrew can’t help but wonder where that comes from. He doesn’t pay too much attention to the majority of the company’s inner workings, but he knows Jaesun hasn’t had a comeback recently. That, and his studio is still under occupation from Jaesun’s producer.

When he turns his attention back to Taein, he’s saying, “Profits this semester have demonstrated a thirty percent increase compared to the previous semester.”

His gaze settles on Andrew as he adds, “There is Fable’s world tour to thank for that.”

That’s probably the nicest thing Taein will say to him all meeting, so Andrew nods along. He can’t help but think of everything that could have gone better: his fight, in Jaeseop’s stead, for a few vacation days; Mingeun and Byeonghwi getting lost in New York, despite their insistence that it never happened; Haksu’s absence from their final show.

“Next slide,” Taein says abruptly. Andrew idly wonders if he’s afraid of showing any sort of weakness in the current company. He knows he is.

The plans for the second half of 2024 bring no surprises. Taein continues his breakneck pace, running through Intak’s August mixtape release and Fable’s still-unnamed October subunit and the also October debut of his second group at what could pass for the speed of light. In Andrew’s humble and less than expert opinion, it seems too pass much too quickly. Then again, considering the people in the room—CEO, lawyer, literal capitalist, whatever Jinguk is—it’s unlikely they care about music at the level he does.

This time, as Taein reaches the end of his breathless presentation, he doesn’t ask Yuxuan for the next slide. It gives Andrew the distinct impression that something is wrong, or at least something out of the ordinary is about to occur. Jaeseop never prepared him for this.

“Returning to the issue of Cheolhwan-ssi”—here, Taein frowns—”I have already received a proposal for a new shareholder.”

The silence is deafening. Andrew waits for someone else to break it, because he certainly doesn’t want to do it again. Jaeseop would know what to say. He silently curses the Korean War and mandatory enlistment.

“Why didn't you tell us?” Seobum finally asks, twisting his gold wedding band. The slightest hint of anger undercuts his words.

“It was a simple matter,” Taein says dismissively. “The last step in the process is, of course, our joint approval.”

“Do we know this mysterious person?” Jinguk asks from Andrew's right, quiet baritone commanding the attention of the rest of the room. He doesn't speak much and Jaeseop had nothing to say about him except for the fact that he’s Taein’s right-hand man. It makes Andrew wary.

Taein nods. “She's the new head of Song Studios. Song Hyemi-ssi.”

That seems to be a cue for Yuxuan—they must have rehearsed this—because the projected presentation now switches to a new slide, photos and bullet points of Song Hyemi’s qualifications. The table erupts into arguments, giving Andrew the time to skim the slide. They must have been hard at work suppressing it throughout the rest of Taein’s presentation. Hyemi is the eldest daughter of the recently deceased Song Studios founder, a screenwriter and director in her own right, a graduate of SNU and Stanford, mother of two children and still a business woman.

Jinguk appears to be winning the argument. “Enough,” he says with finality, and Gyeongwon and Seobum stop debating Hyemi's theoretical share. He stares pointedly at Taein and then adds, “You will not go through with this. Given my relationship with them, I find it absurd you'd consider it.”

“I don't manage actors and she doesn't manage singers,” Taein says crisply. “There is no problem.”

Andrew doesn't understand all of what they're implying, but he’s a part of the conversation by virtue of being here. Jaeseop would say something, so by that logic, Andrew has to say something. “She's Jaesun-ssi’s aunt. It's a conflict of interest on multiple fronts.”

Taein's fury is ice cold. “You are here as Jaeseop’s representative. It is not your place to speak of your own opinions.”

Andrew refuses to back down. Jaeseop wouldn't back down. He's the youngest and least experienced person in the room, and when has that ever mattered anyway? He's used to that. He laces his fingers together under the table to keep them from shaking. 

Jinguk beats him to the punch. “Let him speak. No one else is saying anything worthwhile.”

He shares an almost reassuring glance with Andrew. It would be more reassuring if he didn't have such a foreboding presence, the type of gravity that commands attention with the suggestion of danger. His classic good looks—he’d fit right into some black and white film—do nothing to temper that. Andrew hopes he won’t say anything to get on Jinguk’s bad side. He pushes the thought aside and forges on.

“It isn't my opinion—it's factual. It's as if you, sajang-nim, were to sit on a board like this somewhere else, say, where Jaeseop worked.”

Taein interrupts. “There are no issues with that. I'm certain Hyemi-ssi will be able to make decisions for the benefit of Jaesun-ssi and the company.”

Andrew seizes the opportunity by the throat. He’s going too far forward to return. “You assume those two things are one and the same. The good of the company is not necessarily the good of the artist,” he says, perfectly heartless in the way Jaeseop could never be. He leans forward and locks eyes with Taein, pushing a strand of hair back behind his ear. “You have already demonstrated your willingness to prioritize Jaeseop. What makes you think Hyemi-ssi will be different?”

The room falls silent for two beats, and Andrew finally feels the flush of adrenaline start to fade. Gyeongwon looks like she would have preferred it if Andrew was tossed out of the room the moment he walked in.

“Do you let all your employees talk to you like that, Taein-ssi?” Seobum asks, sounding amused.

Jinguk comes to Andrew’s defense yet again. Andrew has half a mind to tell him he doesn’t need it. Only half. “We are all equals here.”

“Enough, Andrew,” Taein nearly snaps. “Yuxuan, the lights. We need to take a vote today. Hyemi-ssi is expecting my response soon. The more we delay, the more she attempts to strike another monetary deal with me.”

“In what way?” Jinguk inquires, polite but still terrifying, as the lights return to their normal brightness. 

“When I signed Jaesun-ssi, Hyemi-ssi was kind enough to provide a regular, sizable donation.”

A bribe, Andrew thinks, and for once, everyone seems to agree with him. That could be Jaesun’s profit, he realizes. Taein was bold for including that.

“And this is the first time you chose to mention it?” Seobum asks.

“I can't say I'm surprised,” is Gyeongwon’s clipped response. “Like attracts like.”

If the air in the room didn't feel so charged, Andrew might have enjoyed seeing Taein backed into a corner like this. 

“It’s unimportant,” Taein says dismissively. “Does it change any of your opinions?”

“No,” Seobum says sulkily, like he’s a kid and not some age older than Andrew. All their arguments have been rather petty and childish.

“Then we vote,” Taein says, sounding self-satisfied. “Gyeongwon-ssi?”

“Yes.” Gyeongwon’s response is immediate. “It’s time you brought on another woman.”

Taein nods. “Seobum-ssi?”

It takes him a beat longer to answer. He’s fiddling with his wedding band again. Andrew can’t tell if that’s his genuine reaction, or he’s playing them all for fools. “Yes,” he finally answers.

“It’s settled, then,” Taein says, self-satisfied smile playing across his face. “I look forward to seeing everyone again in six months to meet Hyemi-ssi.”

“Taein.” Jinguk’s voice is more a growl than normal speech. Andrew subtly shifts his chair a couple of inches over to his right.

“Do you need it spelled out? I was under the impression you knew better than that.” Taein’s tone is mocking. “My vote, of course, is for Hyemi-ssi to join us. Andrew-ssi doesn’t get a vote, and that leaves you as the sole opposition. Surely you know three is greater than one.”

Privately, Andrew thinks he should get a vote. At the same time, he has no desire to involve himself in their power struggle. It’s another new side to Taein: having a spine. He’s sure that if Jinguk pushed a little harder, over the course of days or weeks, he could whittle Taein down. It’s too bad they don’t have days or weeks.

“Stop playing dumb. You know why I protest.”

Seobum’s gaze flicks between the two of them like he’s watching a particularly interesting tennis match. Andrew would be amused if his heart wasn’t in the pit of his stomach. He tries to think about the solo tracks he’s writing for Fable’s subunit album instead. It’s unfortunate that other than Haksu’s request for a ballad, he has nothing. Andrew doesn’t want to write a ballad. He also doesn’t want to break that news to Haksu.

This time, it’s Gyeongwon who defuses the situation. “Men,” she says, lips pursed. She flips her notebook closed. “If you’re finished with your squabbling and you have nothing else to share, some of us have other appointments to attend.”

Taein shifts back to being a cordial host at once. “Of course. My apologies for keeping you here.” He doesn’t sound apologetic at all.

Gyeongwon is the first to leave, rising to her feet almost as soon as Taein finishes speaking. Her only parting message is a short, “

Seobum is next. He nods in an almost bow to Andrew, and says, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Andrew-ssi.”

Out of politeness, Andrew rises from his seat to meet him halfway. “Likewise,” he says. 

There's nothing more he wants than to leave. Turning to Taein, he says, rather stiffly, “This was very enlightening.”

It enlightened him to the fact that he never wants to do this again. Except Jaeseop won't return until next summer, and that gives Andrew at least one more meeting with them. He isn't looking forward to that.

Taein seems torn between amusement and annoyance. “There are no cameras. It's unnecessary to lie. And for all of our sakes, it would be preferred if you sat out the end of the year meeting.”

Andrew doesn't want to do this, but it doesn't mean he won't do it. “I told Jaeseop I'd do it for him. He deserves to be updated.”

“Then take care to represent him in a more honest manner.”

The threat is clear. And yet Andrew thinks Jaeseop would agree with what he said, though maybe for different reasons.

“Andrew, was it?” Jinguk asks. He seems almost pleasant now. He also pronounces Andrew's name with an American accent.

“Yes,” Andrew answers hesitantly, still guarded.

“I want to talk to you. We'll be stepping outside.” He frames it as a statement, not a question. Neither Taein nor Andrew protest.

In the hallway, Jinguk produces a business card from an inside breast pocket with a flourish. “You performed admirably today. When you become tired of working for Taein, give me a call.”

Andrew has no intention of making a career out of this—once was much more than enough—but he accepts the proffered card. The use of “performed” has to be deliberate, even as he doubts Jinguk will have any need to hire a singer or producer. “Thank you. I'll keep that in mind.”  

Jinguk nods. “It would be a shame to squander your potential here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few more matters to discuss with Taein-ssi.”

Andrew knows when he's being dismissed, and he's only too happy to leave. He turns the card over as he walks. It's solid cardstock, the name Ahn Jinguk embossed in large black text on the left half. Underneath is his title—Chief Administrative Officer—along with a phone number and an email address. The other half of the card is a logo, the letters D and Y stylized in a taeguk. It takes Andrew a minute to place it, but when he does, he feels almost faint. While the Danyoung Group is significantly less flashy than Samsung or Hyundai, they’re a conglomerate all the same, and Jinguk appears to be in a relatively powerful position. 

He presses the down button to summon the elevator. So this is the type of people Taein consorts with. He's suddenly grateful for Haksu's extensive collection of formal button-downs that he doesn’t wear anywhere except church. He’d hate to appear in front of a chaebol representative in one of the same few faded dress shirts he’s had since college. He doesn’t even own a suit jacket.

Andrew knows it’ll be some time before Jaeseop responds to his texts. He writes the messages anyway, starting off with, Did you know Taein is business partners with a chaebol rep? and following it up with Taein is replacing Cheolhwan with Jaesun’s aunt, Hyemi. Those are all of the important events. He figures Jaeseop can make an educated guess at the content of the rest of the meeting.

He steps into the elevator, still holding Jinguk’s business card. He briefly entertains the idea of shredding it or tossing it. Then he thinks better of it and tucks it into his pocket. Someone like him could be a powerful ally, something he’s certain Taein recognizes as well. It’s far too early for Andrew to know if catching his attention like this is a good thing or a bad thing. Only time, and maybe Jaeseop, will tell.

[underrated-ggs]

Happy Flashback Friday, brought to you once again by an underrated disbanded girl group. Underrated bop of the day is "Drip" by HINAPIA, who debuted on November 3, 2019 with this single. They were supposed to have their first comeback in March 2020, but due to the COVID-19 pandemic, their comeback was delayed and eventually cancelled. This was their only release. They disbanded in August 2020.

Since their disbandment, Minkyeung has focused on her modeling career and also signed with KPLUS as an actress. Gyeongwon has been focusing on modeling as well.

[xe-company]

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CHWE JEYOO [BAD OMENS] PROFILE & FACTS

➢ BASICS

STAGE NAME: JYoo

BIRTH NAME: Chwe Je-Yoo

NATIONALITY: Korean

BIRTH PLACE: Gwangju, South Korea

BIRTHDAY: March 28th, 1997

ZODIAC SIGN: Aries

HEIGHT: 163 cm (5’4″)

WEIGHT: 44 kg (97 lbs)

BLOOD TYPE: O

➢ SOCIAL MEDIA

INSTAGRAM: N/A

TWITTER: @/ badomens_Jyoooo

YOUTUBE: N/A

➢ GROUP INFORMATION

GROUP: BAD OMENS

SUB UNIT: TBD

POSITION: Main Rapper, Lead Dancer, Sub Vocalist

FACE + VOICE CLAIMS: DAMI [DREAMCATCHER]

➢ FACTS

Representative Emoji: 🍜 [RAMEN BOWL]

Representative Bad Omen: The number 13

Her English name is Maysi.

Whenever she needs to be productive she likes to put an anime on in the background. 

She is a former MINX member.

She’s in a ’97 liner group with Oh My Girl‘s Binnie, Gfriend’s Yuju, Momoland‘s Jane, HINAPIA‘s Minkyeung and Gyeongwon and DIA / Uni.T‘s Yebin.

Loves getting movie and book recommendations from PROPHETS.

She is the youngest of three children; an older sister [86′] and an older brother [91′] both are active in the Korean military.

She own two snakes; both are at the dorms.

Would like she try a lighter hair color for a comeback.

She was born in Gwangju, but when to school in Busan.

If she had to pick an instrument to learn she would want to learn the Bass guitar.

She used to know Japanese when she was growing up but she hasn’t spoken it for a while she she forgot most ot it.