/After a beat, Seungho speaks up./

S: We need to update our apartment lease.

Minho is staying, but I'll be moving out. 

Can you help us? 

K: …Sure! Sure, I'll get right on it. 

But first, let me ask you, 

Where will you be landing? 

/Mr. Kim asks, his hands resting beneath his chin, the very picture of benign interest./

S: For now, 

I'll stay with my big brother. 

He got into a new apartment a few blocks from here.  

K: Mr. Im Taewoong. 

Uh huh. 

/An image of Taewoong, Seungho's brother, sitting in front of his laptop and monitor. He is hard-eyed and laser-focused, scratching his chin (his stubble inexorably settling in) as he architects his next hit song. Around his neck is one of those dorky-looking neck fans, but curiously he's also wearing a quarter zip sweater? The only possible explanation for this is that he simply hasn't gotten out of his chair for the last 24 hours, even to adjust the thermostat.../

S: That will give the rest of my family more time to gather up my deposit. 

If the next release does as well as our debut EP has, 

Then I think they’d want me to have my own apartment in Gangnam. 

/An image of a shop display showing Apollo's "Bermuda" landing at #1 on the weekly charts, as music shop patrons look on excitedly./

S: But if not, 

Then I’d like to stay north of the river and commute. 

/Seungho finishes brightly, seemingly proud of himself for having thought that far ahead!/

K: Good, good...

But no matter what, 

you won’t be staying in our dorms?

/Mr. Kim looks at Seungho expectantly, pressing his fingertips together, and just like that, Seungho feels his newfound backbone shrivelling up./

S: Well, um,

it's just that...

Mh: Let him be. 

/Suddenly and without warning, Minho steps in front of Seungho, leaving him bewildered./

Mh: Don’t you have a new batch of suckers moving in,

that you can con instead?

/Minho is normally blunt, but it's rare for him to intervene with his own opinion like this. Mr. Kim holds up both hands, motioning that he is backing away from the subject./

K: Heh heh...

Whoa! 

All right.

Sharp shooter, this one. 

K: Gentlemen, 

right this way.

/They traverse the hall leading to the rows of back offices, the two debutants following closely behind Mr. Kim as he leads the way. All of a sudden, Mr. Kim comes to a stop./

K: Oh, 

Minho, 

you're welcome to take off, 

I just need to get Seungho's information.

/Seungho is a little surprised by Mr. Kim's manner. His eyes immediately dart over to Minho, who is following behind him, to check his reaction./

/Minho seems equally surprised to get the brush-off, and he looks at Seungho with something akin to helplessness. The two stare at each other, not entirely sure what to do./

Mh: ...

Text me when you're ready to go?

S: Sure!

/Seungho said, nodding quickly, not wanting to make a scene. He sounded pretty passably normal, if he can say so himself!/

/After one last lingering glance over his shoulder, Minho heads in the direction of the stairs. Seungho watches him go, a mix of worry and wonderment in his face./

/Minho is his friend without a doubt - they've lived together now for almost 2 years, been in each other's presence nearly every day - in some ways, Minho is closer to Seungho than his actual brother. But in spite of all of this implied closeness, all the outward signs that they should be simpatico...they're not./

/Seungho would never say it out loud, but Minho's gaze, his presence, is heavy. Truthfully, it makes Seungho feel almost embarrassed to be looked at like that./

/With a ponderous expression, Mr. Kim scratches his neck./

K: The strong, silent type.

You’re awfully close. 

Does he follow you like that everywhere?

/Seungho blushes bright red, and bows over for no reason./

S: Aha!

Well...only lately!

K: Ohh?

He’s a natural bodyguard, at least,

hah,

I certainly wouldn’t want to mess with him!

S: ?

/As Mr. Kim turns away, he adds in a conspiratorial tone,/

K: Between you and me, Kid, 

That Kang Minho, well… 

...he scares me.  

/A light flickers on, over the rows on rows of empty cubicles in the back offices, as the two enter the consecrated space where human resources would normally sit./

/It appears to be a space infrequently used - maybe because the CEO's endless stream of "ideation" meetings kept staff on the move, trying to respond to his every cockamamie whim. Or maybe simply because the company isn't taking in as many trainees, as many staff, as it once had in its glory days./

/Whatever the reason for the eerie emptiness, it is an ideal space for someone like Mr. Kim, who prefers to work in silence despite his predilection for socializing - and who prefers a wall of silence around him even when he does talk./

K: If this old brain serves, 

Minho used to live by himself in that apartment. 

Suppose that’s why he’s clinging to you now? 

Worried, that he’ll be left all alone again?

Ah, my key card.

/They arrive at Mr. Kim's office, a secured enclosed space at odds with the largely open-concept floor plan. As Mr. Kim rustles through his pockets looking for his card, Seungho listlessly swings his leg in front of him, perhaps troubled by some new choreography that dances on the fringes of his attention./

S: …Yeah, maybe?

I think Minho’s just had a lot on his mind lately. 

The CEO asked him to put on like, 5kg of straight up muscle before debut, 

and he actually did! 

/Images of the old Minho - disheveled and of stringy build, hunched much too much over his game controller - are contrasted with the image of a strapping, muscular Minho attacking a punching bag during one of his vigorous workout routines./

S: On top of being our main vocal...

Also, his mom -

ah.

/Seungho stops short as he realizes what he'd just said./

/Red-faced, he spins around quickly to see if Mr. Kim had heard him./

/As the key card unlocks the door with a loud click, Mr. Kim replies - without looking backwards and without so much as a sympathetic rise in tone - /

K: Yes, 

I heard. 

Dreadful thing. 

Whoever said,

that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone,

was probably also thinking about his liver. 

/Seungho covers his mouth guiltily. Mr. Kim's omniscience, which at this point seems to be nothing less than a law of nature, does nothing to quell his deep sense of shame at blurting out something that would have hurt Minho to hear./

S: I guess you really do hear about everything...

/Now that they've reached their destination, the next steps unfold like clockwork. The two arrange themselves mechanically on opposite sides of Mr. Kim's work desk, Seungho pulling out a short steel folding chair in front, while Mr. Kim swivels his plush high chair around. He bids Seungho to sit down, while simultaneously retrieving a roll of digestive cookies from some obscure drawer./

K: Here, have a seat.

Want some biscuits?

Take some home with you.

/Briskly, the two begin their work. Mr. Kim clears his desk of papers and debris, and a second later, produces a copy of the lease change form, which Seungho accepts. A second later, Mr. Kim rolls a writing pen across the table to Seungho, who snatches it clumsily. It is a coordinated dance between old and young hands. As this goes on, Mr. Kim ventures a further question./

K: And uh...

How about you, Kid?

How’s your health?

S: Ah, I actually just had a physical.

K: Oh?

S: Everything's good. 

It's all good, 

But,

/Seungho pauses, suddenly self-conscious. He had removed his jacket, revealing the beautiful embroidery of the apple blossom shirt. Holding the pen in one hand and tapping it lightly against his own arm, he seems to be deliberating on what, and how much, he should say./

S: If you're talking about my voice, Mr. Kim,

I think it's probably going to be stuck like this, forever.

/Mr. Kim looks back at him with an expression that is hard to decipher./

K: ...Aw.

S: It's OK. 

I'm not in any pain.

And, they’re not recommending surgery.

It’s just...I kinda wish there were more high parts in our songs, you know? 

/Seungho shows a cheeky smile, sticking out his tongue and shrugging, as if to prove that none of this particularly bothers him. But Mr. Kim seems to have picked up on Seungho's undercurrent of misery, as he immediately launches into one of his spirited pep talks,/

K: Well, now, listen, 

girls are funny little things, 

you can never tell what they'd like! 10 years ago, it was guys with…rooster combs shooting out of their heads! 

/Mr. Kim gestures wildly with his hands in the horizontal orientation./

K: And today it’s all about 

Hot bods!!

...Psh!  

/Next, he exaggeratedly poses like a body builder./

K: I tell you, whether it’s natural or synthetic, spray or sweat, these preening pheasants are always stinking up this office!

Invest in a desk fan!

But what really matters, Seungho, is...

...character!! That bolt of brass, that only a few of us have got…that’s the real McCoy!

/Seungho allows these muscular words to wash over him, as Mr. Kim crows on about what must surely be a favourite topic of his,/

K: So you’ve got a mousy little voice, so what! 

Why - you can still stand out, just by being sincere, 

having a good attitude, 

working hard!

S: And what if

Being sincere 

Doesn't attract girls?

/Seungho says quietly, unthinkingly. A pause./

K: Hm? 

...Ayy! Don't say that.

/Only a moment. Again, only for a moment, Seungho allows himself to fracture in front of Mr. Kim./

/But, the outcome is the same as before: the conversation veers off, careening down its predestined track, and flies away from him./

K: Im Seungho, giving up before you’ve even run the race is the opposite of character.

Just...put your head down, and work hard. 

/So, Seungho smiles. It's a little awkward, and he barely feels his own face contorting. But so much of life, and so much talk, is just following a preset pattern...isn't it./

S: Yup. 

/He even manages to crack a joke, placing it right into the proverbial pocket./

S: And, "don’t date". 

K: …Ha!

Right, "don’t date"!

But, who are we kidding, 

hey? 

/Mr. Kim leans across the table and prods Seungho's shoulder with his knuckle. It is a playful gesture, a well-meaning and banal one, when it comes from older men. Seungho looks down at the spot where Mr. Kim had touched him. It is not painful, not physically. But, why can't he breathe easily?/

/Now it is past 3pm, and Seungho is getting ready to leave. He puts his jacket back on, readjusts his scarf and bag. The woolen scarf perhaps wound more tightly around his neck, than it had been when he entered./

/He exits Mr. Kim's office first - a few steps ahead of his host but still within arm's reach, not wishing to seem too eager to disappear. Behind him, Mr. Kim continues to lecture fervently, even flapping his arms for emphasis,/

K: …And I’ll tell you this, 

Your generation loves to rag on it, 

But I challenge you 

to find me a more level playing field

anywhere in society! 

Just think, 

Where else will they treat you and your fellow man so equally? And it’s not pushing the pause button on life - it is the very stuff of life!

/Seungho can only smile politely at this remarkable statement./

/As if sensing that he was losing his captive audience, Mr. Kim suddenly inches closer, and says,/

K: ...Hey, 

by the way, Seungho,

S: ?

K: You know who's the Big Tiger, 

and who's the Little Tiger, 

don't you?

/Seungho isn't sure what point Mr. Kim wants to make, but he gamely answers,/

S: ...I think,

I'm the Big Tiger?

/Mr. Kim taps Seungho on the shoulder. Another gratuitous motion. He seems satisfied./

K: That's it.

You know, you really did me a favour when you came on,

picking Minho for your housemate.

We know,

we all know,

That boy is no saint.

/An image of Minho's back appears. It seems to ripple and distort as Mr. Kim's words tumble out,/

K: And that mother of his,

the one in the hospital right now,

Kang Hana,

Is the tree from which the rotten apple fell.

So, don't feel a bit sorry.

/Seungho stills, his expression tightening. He could barely hide his surprise. Mr. Kim's tone, which was friendly and boisterous even just a moment ago, is suddenly low and full of venom, as if Kang Hana's name had flipped a switch inside his gut./

K: You know, she used to be an idol herself,

Pretending to be prue, and chaste! Huff!

She was the old CEO's plaything,

even had a child with him out of wedlock...ahh, see?

/An image of two figures emerges in a dark and shapeless void. One is a gentleman dressed in a fine smoking jacket, sitting in a high chair. The other is a young woman crouched on the floor beside him, posing like a kept thing, her fingers entwined in his. They are featureless, expressionless puppets, but there is an illicit and decadent air about them./

K: Well, I'm sure she was looking for a big payday!

But then, the CEO got into that...legal jam...and once he was deposed, poof!

No more room for her,

it was out with the trash!

/An image of two hands interlocked as a fire blazes around them, so that the skin of one figure seems to melt into that of the other. The woman's hands are especially contorted as she grabs desperately at her partner. Her nails are long and curved, like a caricature of a witch./

K: She ended up raising that kid by herself, out of a Dongdaemun phone shop.

And all this liver business, well!

Anybody with half a brain could have told her that -

S: Mr. Kim, I -

I don't know if I want to hear this.

/Seungho suddenly blurts out, his eyes wide with alarm./

/This mild protest seems to cause the very atmosphere to freeze. As Seungho lets his words hang in the silence, unsure how things turned out this way or what he should do next, he hears Mr. Kim take a step back./

K: Whoa,

Hey?

Seungho?