Page 36 of When Worlds Collide (Between Worlds #2)

“ B loody hell,” I murmured, craning my neck to look up at the shiny, glass-fronted building. ‘ENT’ was clearly and proudly mounted on letters ten feet tall, probably visible across all of Gangnam.

Behind me, Jihoon slid out of the backseat of the SUV that had picked us. It had been a relatively short drive from our apartment in Hannam, to ENT headquarters.

Jihoon didn’t make any moves towards me.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, and subtly nodded his head towards the door.

He was wearing an over-sized black hoodie, a cap pulled low over his face, and a matching black surgical mask.

While this wasn’t unusual, today it was because going in through the front door of ENT invited anyone camped outside the building to take notice, and take pictures.

I, for the first time, was also wearing a black surgical mask, pulled high up on my nose.

It covered more than half my face and the whole ride over here, I’d struggled to get used to the feeling of breathing through it.

It was uncomfortable, but at least the warmth of my exhalations kept my face warm in the biting cold of the grey day.

Overhead, the clouds were threatening to dump another few inches of snow down on us, like they’d done all week.

I followed Jihoon towards the building, noting that there were a few people milling about, but standing politely back behind a row of ornamental railings.

Some of them wore lanyards, identifying them as being from certain publications, but most bore no such identification, except their tripod set ups.

Currently, they weren’t paying any attention to the several people walking in and out of the building, and I wondered why they bothered to be there at all. They must be freezing.

I stayed several feet back from Jihoon, until we were safely inside the building, the noise of the street fading as the glass doors slid closed behind me, and I got my first, good look at the reception of ENT.

It seemed to get bigger the more I looked.

The lobby was split into two levels; the ground floor we’d entered in on, and a mezzanine level above, looking down on the floor below, ringed by clear, glass barriers that shone in the early-morning light coming in through the glass front of the building.

It kind of made me feel like I’d walked into a fairy-tale castle made entirely of glass.

There was a huge desk in the middle of the lobby, manned by three receptionists.

We didn’t head to the desk though. We walked straight across the gleaming lobby to the bank of elevators on the far wall, set further back down a short corridor, and behind a row of security barriers, currently overlooked by a man in a very official-looking uniform.

As we approached, Jihoon pulled down his mask, and the guard at the partitions stood up a little straighter, clearly recognising him.

But, instead of heading straight on through, Jihoon paused at the guard, who leaned in closer to hear his quiet conversation, only the odd, whispered word drifting over to where I stood politely a few feet away.

The guard looked over at me briefly, before nodding.

He turned away and pulled something out of a free-standing locker against the marble wall before turning back around. He motioned for me to come over.

“For today.” He said, his accent thick. “Return when you leave.” He passed me a dark blue lanyard, with a card clipped to the end, the word ‘Visitor’ stamped clearly on it.

I nodded as I dutifully hung it around my neck.

The guard held a card over the top of the scanner on one of the barriers, and the glass doors slid apart. Jihoon passed through first, before pausing on the other side to wait for me. The guard held out his hand, indicating I should pass through.

“Gamsahmnida,” I said shyly, walking though.

Jihoon grinned at me, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

“What?” I muttered, following him to the elevators.

He just shook his head. “So cute.”

We didn’t say anything else as we walked to the bank of elevators. There were too many people wandering around, but when the metal doors closed behind us, we were alone and Jihoon selected the floor. He pulled me towards him and exhaled. It felt somehow like we’d just pulled off a bank heist.

“ENT is fancy,” I remarked, and he huffed a small laugh.

“Because they manage only the very best.”

“Uh huh.” I grinned up at him, tightly gripping his jacket in my hands, pressing myself closer to him as I breathed him in. He was a balm to my frantically beating heart.

“You’ll be fine,” he soothed, understanding without me needing to say it.

I just nodded.

“It’s Christmas next week. Maybe she’ll feel enough Christmas spirit to gift me a job?”

Jihoon’s shoulders shook as he snorted.

“Does that make her Scrooge?”

I pulled back enough to look up at him. “Depends on how Scroogy she is now.”

He didn’t respond, which I supposed was answer enough.

We’d talked this morning over a brief breakfast of pop tarts – which Jihoon has a secret weakness for – and coffee. Kang Jihye was kind of known for being a bit of a hard ass. She was supposedly fair, but with a very sensitive bullshit-meter, so I wouldn’t be able to gaff my way through this.

He was convinced that her even agreeing to see me was a good sign. I, on the other hand, suspected it was probably because Jihoon had asked her. Nepotism at its finest.

The elevator doors dinged, and then slid open a moment later, and Jihoon and I stepped a respectable distance apart.

We stepped out into a long corridor that must span the full length of the building, and Jihoon led the way.

It opened up into a largely open-plan area.

One side was completely glass – the front of the building – looking out onto the busy streets below.

The amount of natural light pouring in from that wall of windows was incredible, especially as on this side, ENT had no taller neighbours blocking the sun.

No doubt some clever architect had designed it to face this direction for just this reason.

On the right, an open plan office spread out, people sat at smart desk spaces, or grouped up in comfy-looking break-out areas.

All the white desks, green plants everywhere, and all that natural light gave the impression of a pretty holistic working environment.

I wondered if the culture matched the theme.

We approached a small seating area, with a couple plush-looking cream sofas and matching coffee tables, and just past them was a desk manned by a smartly-dressed young woman who smiled at us as we approached.

Her smile notched up substantially higher when she recognised Jihoon, and I couldn’t blame her.

Even in baggy, nondescript clothes, he was breath-taking.

Just because I was biased, didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

Hearing my name be mentioned in a string of Korean brought my focus back in, and the secretary and I locked eyes, briefly. She smiled at me with a more professional wattage, before indicating the sofas behind me.

Not needing a translation for that, I moved back and sat down.

Jihoon stood in front of me, with his hands shoved into his pockets. He briefly glanced behind me to the open plan area, where the quiet murmurings and keyboard taps drifted over to us.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“No.” I waved him off. “This is not my first rodeo.”

“It’s your first Korean rodeo.”

“Does Korea have rodeos?”

“Focus, Ky.” He smirked.

“Fine. We’ll look it up later.” I waved him off again as he rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be downstairs in my studio. Come down when you’re done.”

I wiped my clammy hands down the front of my smart, black trousers, but pretended nonchalance when I responded, “Okay, cool. See you then.”

He gave me one last look before turning around and heading back down the corridor. I watched him go, feeling suddenly very alone in this strange, glass castle.

Just then, a large group of people filed out of the office to my left. They were all laughing, clapping each other on the back and just generally seemed in good spirits. I hoped that meant Director Kang would be in equally good spirits. Good enough to be generous to a plucky, young British girl.

Following the group of obviously corporate people, was a petite young woman, probably around my age.

She was carrying a laptop in her arms, and looked a bit harried.

She was also not dressed like they were.

Something about her set her apart, and when she glanced over and met my eyes, there was something in her expression that confirmed my suspicions, although I couldn’t name exactly what those were.

Her eyes widened a fraction as she looked me over, face plainly curious, before the moment passed and she hurried to catch up with the group.

“Kaiya Thompson?”

Hearing my name shook me out of my reverie, and my head snapped around. I recognised her immediately from her professional profile on the ENT website.

“Follow me, please.” Not waiting for me to respond, Kang Jihye strode back into her office, and I darted up to follow her, trying not to trip over my new shoes.

The door closed behind me, which was either magic, or the secretary stationed outside the door.

Director Kang moved around to sit in an armchair that was positioned at the head of a group of several similar, but slightly smaller armchairs. She graciously indicated the chair to her immediate left. She sat, and I nervously followed.

Director Kang looked to be in her early forties, but she was so immaculately presented it was hard to tell.

Her glossy, black hair was cut into a no nonsense, razor-edged bob that swayed just above her shoulders.

She was dressed in a simple skirt suit that quietly whispered ‘expensive’. Next to her, I felt positively scruffy.

“Miss Thompson.” Her voice startled me back into the present, and I inclined my head respectfully.