“Phenomenally popular group GRiD is making their surprise comeback Friday night—fans all around the world are holding their breaths...” Click.

“...tickets SOLD OUT in seven minutes–” Click.

“...at Gocheok Sky Dome after a three year long–” Click.

“Will they live up to their legacy–” 

The random news anchors’ and TV hosts’ voices echoed around meeting room four—our usual—as I flipped through the channels of the 65-inch flat-screen mounted on the back wall. Our final meeting before the comeback concert, taking place in three days, was about to start. We were only waiting for our manager to appear.

What a privileged country we lived in, as we and the comeback we were about to make were the top news of the week. I hadn’t thought it would be this big of a deal. But ever since we held a press conference about our surprise comeback, the press had been all over the story—and us—like hyenas. Not that I’d complain. The whole purpose of us being hush-hush over the past years was to make an explosive return to the music scene of the great Republic of Korea. 

That’s right; almost three years ago, we disappeared from the top of the local music industry. Literally. We fell off the face of the earth, as far as our fans and peers were concerned. They had been speculating all kinds of crazy things over our absence—seriously, one tabloid even claimed that we had all died in some kind of terrible airplane accident.

Drama hungry bastards.

The truth, however, was way simpler. And somewhat boring. We had merely dealt with the mandatory military service we would’ve had to go through at some point anyway, just a little ahead of our time. Tae, as the oldest, was about to be called up anyway, and the rest of us decided to get it over with at the same time.

It was not the usual way. Due to the fact that one would have to be away from the spotlight for a minimum of 21 months, idols normally go one by one, while the rest of the group continues performing. We, however, never did anything the normal way. GRiD—the special snowflakes, the industry insiders had joked back in the day, when we had defied all “laws” of K-pop. Too bad for them we had sold well, even during our break.

“Minjae, please, turn it off,” Do-hyun pleaded, cutting off my absent minded channel-surfing.

“In a minute. Hyung, don’t you see they’re at the best part?” I replied and snickered, as they were showing a photo of him right then on the TV.

He threw the pen he was toying with directly at me.

I dodged it with ease, laughing. It was just like Do to get annoyed over the smallest things. 

On the TV, they were going through some kind of an introduction of us all. There were five of us: Tae, Joonie, Do-hyun, me, and Chris—if you were to put us in order from oldest to youngest, as they usually did. Currently, it was Do’s turn to get thoroughly analyzed. The female host didn’t seem to have a problem with it; after all, Do was something they liked to call a “visual.”

I didn’t exactly disagree with that description. With his sharp jawline, messily styled black hair, deep-set, seductive eyes, and just enough of the right kind of bad-boy attitude, he made every girl (and some boys) squeal and lose their collective breath within a kilometer’s radius. Well, every lady (or gentleman), these days. At least according to the polls our label LBR Entertainment had run through the years; it seemed like our fan base had grown up with us. Heck, even I couldn’t keep my eyes off his face. 

But Do-hyun was so much more than just a visual. He was a vital part of our group. Not only was he an acclaimed rapper, he had also written and produced almost all our tracks, together with Tae. Another unusual GRiD-way—it was not common for kpop groups to make their own music. 

This particular TV host wasn’t interested in that at all, though. When she was done with drooling over the looks of Do-hyun, she moved straight into the introduction of me.

An age-old clip of me dancing at one of our past concerts started to roll and I shuddered. Looks-wise, me and Do couldn’t be any further apart. While technically we were almost the exact same height, and both somewhat fit, that’s where our similarities ended. He had sharp eyes, squared shoulders, strong jawline…whereas I had always been a bit soft on the edges. Do’s body was the kind one would achieve by going to the gym, while I never bothered. I chose to stay fit by dancing.

Seeing the baby-faced, black-haired me from three years back irked me. Now, I was as blond as one could be and hopefully a bit less…err…round-faced. Hopefully. In any case, I couldn’t help but smash the power button on the remote before tossing it in the middle of the table.

Do-hyun rolled his eyes. “Now he turns it off.”

Thankfully I didn’t have to come up with a good response to my friend’s teasing, as Jiwoo, our manager, waltzed through the door right then, banging it against the wall to earn our attention. Not that she needed to do that; she always had our attention. What? Noona was a gorgeous woman. She had the most perfect, heart-shaped face, paired with sharp, intense eyes, and a body with curves for days. Lately, she had been coloring her hair flaming red, and to say it suited her personality, would’ve been an understatement. Honestly, she would’ve made a great idol if she could sing or dance to save her life.

“Afternoon, boys! Let’s get this rolling,” she said, still as hyped about the comeback as she had been over the previous months. Dropping her case on the table, she added, “Today’s agenda: if any of you mess up the setlist once, I’m gonna drill it into your head all night long. Plus, you bunch of drunks can kiss your little party tomorrow night a bittersweet goodbye.”

“Hey!” Tae objected. He didn’t really drink, but thatdidn’t change Jiwoo’s point, since the rest of us certainly wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to let loose.

But Jiwoo couldn’t quite defend herself, as Joonie cut her off.

“More importantly, how did you find out about the party–” he started, his perfectly lined eyes squinting at Jiwoo. She had been trying to keep our alcohol consumption to a minimum in preparation for the great comeback. 

She just waved her beautifully manicured set of claws dismissively at Joonie, saying, “Oh, I have my ways. You seem to have forgotten that I do know you all.”

Joonie opened and closed his pouty lips a couple of times. Then, he visibly gave up, huffing out a sigh while crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine.”

“Good,” she said and then continued straight away with a bit more mysterious tone: “And now that we got that over the way, we still have one more thing to go through before we even get to today’s agenda.”

“Which is…?” Joonie asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly. 

Jiwoo trained her eyes directly at me, her face unreadable. “Fanservice.”

At once, my heart flipped inside my chest. It was not one of the good kinds of heart flips either. I had some history with fanservice and let’s just say it wasn’t my favorite topic.