Page 44 of When Worlds Collide (Between Worlds #2)
We rode the 'hellevator' down to ‘the warehouse’ – a massive sub-level where a whole load of props and sets were stored, held for the next music video, or ‘stage’ – which is what I’d learned a concert was commonly referred to as.
It was jaw-dropping. There were plain backdrops, entire walls of stage lights, stacked staging units, even cars.
It had literally never occurred to me before where a company might get the props used in music videos, but now I guess I knew.
The last thing Hana showed me was the infamous wardrobe – which was really several rooms containing a vast collection of shoes, outfits, even hair.
When we’d gone up, there had actually been a girl group getting fitted for various outfits.
Hana had explained they were going through a ‘look book’, which is apparently a process where the stylists find different ‘looks’ for the performers, based on the theme of their upcoming release.
The look they were currently styling was ‘girl crush’.
We looked on for a while, staying out of the way, watching as they took Polaroids in different outfits, until one of the stylists shooed us out.
Our tour ran on so long that Hana decided the next logical stop was the on-site cafeteria.
We walked in, and I didn’t bother to stifle my gasp, because, holy hell.
It was like walking into a bio-dome, or one of those natural reserves where nature has been allowed to take over.
The entire space was filled with natural light from the walls of windows, and plants were everywhere.
There was an entire wall that was just plants, or moss, or something like that.
Plants were hanging down from the ceiling in special hanging baskets.
They were in little pots on every table, and the room had even been divided into sections by raised planters.
There were creepers, vines, flowering plants, succulents, and I’m pretty sure a whole row of fluffy carrot tops made up one of the long dividers.
“This is incredible,” I said, once I’d put my eyeballs back in my head.
Hana laughed. “It’s pretty neat, huh?”
“Can just anyone come in here?”
“Oh God, no,” she said, horrified. “This is just for staff and talent. That means us,” she pointed a finger between us, “and them.” She discreetly moved that finger over to the side, indicating a table full of young women, all dressed in workout clothes, and caps, but somehow still managing to look like a superior bunch of humans to me, even on my best day.
“Who’s that?” I asked in a hushed tone.
Hana shrugged. “New group. I’ve been assigned to them for three months, but they’re probably going to disband soon.”
We’d moved towards the line of other people, all queuing up to grab trays and join the self-service line.
“What? Why?” I turned to watch her face, but it was remarkably detached.
She shrugged again. “Dynamic, I think. They don’t seem to be meshing well.
They were all in different pre-debut groups before, but the other girls weren’t ready, so they-” she nodded her head with a swish of her shiny hair in the direction of the women – teenagers, I could see, now that I was closer – “got pushed together. But they have no chemistry. Total patch job.”
Hana made a ‘whomp whomp’ noise, which was both comedic and cold.
I wasn’t sure how to react, so I chose to say nothing.
I tried not to stare at the group, who didn’t seem to be eating the food in front of them, and I wondered if they knew that their future was so poorly regarded.
They’d likely trained for years, bonded with the other trainees, only to be crammed into a group that now wasn’t working. It didn’t seem fair.
Turning my attention back to the food line, I saw that it all looked delicious, but I still struggled to recognise the things I liked, so I just went with a random selection and hoped for the best. I lucked out with the kimchi stew, but took a hard pass on what I learned was octopus.
I swapped with Hana for a small serving of japchae and considered it a win.
After lunch, we went to the department I’d apparently be spending a lot of my time in and around – the stylist rooms, where a variety of stylists, hair and makeup artists were busy coordinating looks for a trainee group.
Some of them paused what they were doing to say hello, but most of them only nodded politely as they got on with what they were doing.
The ones that did stop to chat didn’t seem all that impressed with me, which was fair.
I was on the very bottom rung of a very tall ladder, and I didn’t speak enough Korean to be truly useful to them.
I’d be sceptical, too, if a total stranger waltzed into my domain with no language skills and no recommendations.
Watching their pasted-on smiles made my heart sink, just a little, as I realised what a climb I had in front of me.
It brought up a legitimate concern to me. Just how well was I going to be able to do my job when I barely knew the language?
I voiced this to Hana, but she waved my concern away.
“Don’t worry,” she said confidently. “I’ll take good care of you.”
I smiled, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was just going along with the idea that I could possibly belong here – in this building, or in this world.
End Of Part Two.