​Aside from Minsung, my younger brother, nobody ever texted or called. And since I knew Minsung was safe in his after-school academy, my immediate, panicked thought was that something terrible had happened to him.

​My heart hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs, I fumbled inside the bag and pulled out the phone. To my surprise, the screen displayed a number I didn't recognize. Below it, a single, recent text message:

"Dear Choi Minjae, this is Park Hana from Apex Weekly. We saw your work with Professor Lee Hanbyul at The Korea Daily and were very impressed. Professor Lee himself recommended you for this particular position. We'd like to offer you a full-time paid internship as a junior reporter/researcher. Are you free for a quick call today to discuss details and start dates? Please reply to this number. We think you have a great future in journalism!"

My first, instinctual thought was: This must be a scam. This is bullshit.

​The wave of overwhelming relief that Minsung was fine was immediately replaced by an unnerving knot in my stomach about the message itself.

​As soon as the lecture ended, I hurried across the quad to the administrative building and found Professor Lee's office. I knocked, and his stern, familiar voice answered immediately.

​"Come in."

​I stepped into the cluttered space, which was dominated by towering stacks of books and papers. Professor Lee Hanbyul, a man whose reputation in investigative journalism preceded him, looked up from his desk.

​"Good afternoon, Minjae. Is something the matter?"

"Professor Lee," I said, holding out my phone, "I received a strange text message from Apex Weekly. It claims you recommended me for a job."

​A genuine smile, rare and sudden, bloomed on the professor's face. His deeply wrinkled features softened, making him look almost childlike in that moment.

​"Oh, yes, yes! That's wonderful news," he exclaimed, adjusting his glasses. "They have a position that fits you perfectly. You are, after all, my most passionate student when it comes to investigative journalism. Park Hana is the Editor-in-Chief of the investigative column at Apex. I believe you should at least talk to her. It's not an everyday opportunity, Minjae."

​"Thank you so much, Professor," I replied, a sudden gravity in his words sinking in. "I will certainly consider your advice with gratitude."

​On the train ride home, the rhythmic clack of the wheels against the track did little to drown out the noise in my head. It was a massive relief to know this wasn't a scam, but I couldn't shake the confusion. How was I supposed to juggle a full-time job on top of my classes and taking care of Minsung?

​Once I reached our small apartment, the familiar, quiet hum of the empty home settled around me. I was too mentally exhausted to cook. I immediately ordered takeout. Usually, I enjoyed preparing dinner for us, but the sheer length of the day and the turmoil of the message had left me spent. Minsung was still at his after-school academy, and I found myself pacing, not wanting to eat alone, but unable to wait any longer.

I picked up my phone and called the number the SMS had come from.

​"Hello, it's Choi Minjae," I said, my voice tight with nerves. I caught myself anxiously fidgeting with the loose thread on the sleeve of my sweater.

​"Hello, it's Park Hana. I'm glad you called us. I assume you're interested in our offer." Her voice was clear, crisp, and professionally reassuring.

​"Yes, ma'am."

​"Professor Lee told me about your past briefly, and he showed me some of your essays and related work. I was very impressed. I believe you're the perfect candidate for a very particular case we're working towards."

​"I'm sorry..." I gripped the phone tighter, my throat suddenly dry. "What do you mean he talked about my past?"

​My heart began to pound so hard I could feel the reverberations in my ears. I desperately tried to maintain my composure, but I felt a familiar wave of crippling anxiety start to take hold.

​"I apologize for being intrusive, Minjae. You are a fascinating young man with huge potential," she continued smoothly. "Professor Lee only mentioned you had some experience in the music industry. Nothing more. But I did some digging on my own. I'm sorry if I upset you."

​My stomach did a violent cartwheel. Most people in my field would be ecstatic to have the powerful Editor-in-Chief of Apex Weekly personally look into them. But for me, it was the worst kind of invasion.

​"I see. It's... fine," I managed, fighting to keep my voice level. "So what exactly is this job about?"

​"We are trying to get to the bottom of the criminal activities within SDR Entertainment," Park Hana stated, the name hitting me like a physical blow. "We need someone who could infiltrate the company-someone who's young, good-looking, talented, and passionate about investigative journalism. I believe you are the only existing candidate for this specific job. We've been looking for someone like you for a very long time, Minjae."

​"I'm not sure if I'm able to take on such a project on top of my studies," I stammered, thinking of Minsung. "And I have a younger brother I have to take care of..."

​"During the time you work for us, you can halt your studies," she countered, her voice now sharp with determination. "As compensation, we will pay for your tuition after you return to university, on top of paying you a decent wage while you're working for us. And once you graduate, you will have a fixed position at Apex Weekly as one of our journalists. How does that sound?"

​"This sounds like a too-good-to-be-true offer. What's the catch?"

​"There is no catch," she insisted. "We are simply that desperate to work with you."

​"Could you give me a few days to think it through?"

​"Of course. I hope I will hear your answer soon. Have a great evening!"

​My head was spinning. I had to sit down on the nearest chair as soon as I got home. An aching tension flared from the nape of my neck to the top of my skull.

​SDR Entertainment-the name itself was a key, unlocking a flood of memories. I had spent years as a trainee there. It was a time when I had no worries or responsibilities, a time when I only cared about my own selfish desires and goals.

​I had been privileged to be born into an upper-middle-class family. We weren't super-rich, but my family did well; both of my parents were dentists with their own clinic in Seoul. I had a bright, easy upbringing. My parents, who had studied abroad, had a much more lenient outlook on how to raise Minsung and me compared to other Korean families. As long as I kept my good grades, I was free to pursue anything I liked as a hobby.

​What interested me most was music and dancing. From the age of seven, I took piano and singing lessons, and later, dancing classes in middle school. I was completely infatuated with the dream of becoming an idol.

​When I was thirteen, my dance teacher brought me to an audition at SDR, one of South Korea's five biggest entertainment companies. As soon as I was accepted, I poured all my free time into the practice rooms. I felt like I was on top of the world-unstoppable, full of hope and motivation. My naturally extroverted personality, mixed with my skills, helped me build a solid foundation in the industry.

​I was nineteen and had just finished high school when SDR decided it was time for me to debut. The company was just days away from making the first public announcement of a new boy group when the accident happened.

​I still remember the day vividly. We were on our way to a restaurant to celebrate the upcoming debut. My mother was over the moon; my father, so proud. They had given me so much love and support.

​A truck crashed directly into the front of our car.

​When I woke up in the hospital, I could barely breathe-three fractured ribs. Minsung had a concussion. And our parents were gone.

​I immediately left the entertainment industry. A whole new life-a cruel, difficult one-had crashed down on me. Aside from the raw grief and pain of losing my parents, I had to take responsibility for Minsung. Everything I had enjoyed and desired before became insignificant. Everything became insignificant. The only emotion I felt toward my former goals was a crushing indifference, haunted by the thought that if I hadn't been so obsessed with my dreams, and if we hadn't been celebrating them, my parents would still be alive.

​My parents had left enough inheritance for Minsung and me to finish university and finance our lives for a few years. But as the time passed, the reality was striking: I had to find a job as soon as I graduated and start providing for both of us.

​A part of me had died in that accident, too. I was no longer the same positive, extroverted Minjae. I had become dull, detached, reserved, and introverted. Rumors about me now spread through the university like wildfire:

​"Is he looking down at us just because he has a face like that?""

He's so full of himself. Is he a big deal or something?"

"Good-looking people have the worst personality."

"I don't wanna do a group project with that stuck up jerk."

"I bet he's fucking around with so many girls, he definietly has STD's. I've seen him at the bathroom being all jumpy and uncomfortable"

"Nah he's gay for sure. He's a pretty boy who gets passed around in Itaewon. Typical gay prick. You're right about the STD's tho."

"Is he really gay? I heard he slept with atleast 10 girls in our department."

"Either way I wouldn't touch him with a stick. Him having this awful personality is one thing, but being a bio hazard is another level of garbage."

"You guys are just jealous. If I had his face I'd fuck everything that moves too. He's a legend for that. But his personality is still trash."

"He doesn't have any friends. Have you guys ever seen him talking to anyone aside the professors? I bet Professor Lee had his fun with that pretty little face too. Why would he praise that gay prick otherwise? Do you guys think he gets passed around by the professors in the department?"

​They were just noise. The less I cared, the bolder they became, graduating to hateful whispers about my private life. But honestly? I truly didn't give a fuck. They couldn't inflict the kind of harm I hadn't already dealt with. I had more urgent matters, and a different kind of pain, to handle. On the days when my classmates' rumors were loudest, I only felt a deep, widening void in my chest. My thoughts kept wandering back to the days when my family was happy, and when I still had Renji by my side...

​"Guess who's home?" Minsung's voice boomed as he stomped across the living room. "Haa, I'm starving." He plopped down on the sofa next to me.

​"I ordered fried chicken," I said, a small piece of the tension easing at the sound of his voice.

​"Oh, fuck yeah."

​"Language." I scolded him, flicking his forehead with my middle finger.

​"I'm not a kid anymore! Today the coach said I'm one of the best swimmers in the sixteen-year-old age group this year. He tried to nag me into another competition, but I refused."

​"Why do you keep refusing him?" I asked, carrying the plates of fried chicken and side dishes to the small dining table.

​"Because swimming is just a hobby. I have to get good grades and go to medical school," Minsung declared, munching happily on a drumstick. "Someone has to bring that dentist office back to life."

​"The office is alive. We rented it out. The dentist currently working there is really good, apparently. And it's not your responsibility," I countered, sitting across from him.

​"I don't care if he's good. It belongs to our family. I will make lots of money and buy us yummy food every day for the rest of our lives."

​"That's still not your responsibility. I can buy yummy food instead of you."

​"No offense, hyung," he said, swallowing a mouthful, "but you're studying journalism."

​"Watch your mouth, you little brat."

​"I was just messing with you! But let's be realistic. You have to land a job at the top shelf if you want to buy me yummy food every day."

​"Actually... I kind of did," I admitted, watching his expression.

​"Huh?" Minsung gasped, a piece of chicken bone still sticking out of his mouth.

​"You look very stupid right now," I said, flicking the bone out. "But you heard me right. Apex Weekly offered me a job. It's pretty much a lifelong guarantee for a stable career. What do you think? Maybe I will be able to afford yummy food as a journalism graduate."

​"No fucking way!"

​"Language," I flicked his forehead again.

​"Owwie. So what is this job? You don't even have your diploma yet. Is this a scam? Sounds like a scam..."

​"According to my professor, it's very real. They want me to go back to SDR. It's some investigative work inside the company. The Editor-in-Chief didn't share any further details yet. She told me if I take the job, she'll pay for my tuition in the future and guarantee me a fixed position at Apex."

​"That still sounds like a scam. It's too good to be true."

​"That's what I've been saying, too. But apparently, they're desperate."

​"Wow... So... How do you feel about going back there? I mean, it's been two years. Do you still know how to hit the notes? Maybe you sing now like a dying owl."

​"Ha. I will ignore the teasing for now, but beware of my finger when it closes in on your big beluga forehead."

​"Who's the beluga? Hey!" Minsung was about to throw hands but I managed to flick him three times in a row. I swore I could see steam coming out of his ears and nostrils.

​"Anyway... I don't know how to feel. As you said, I'm somewhat rusty."

​"You should take this offer, hyung," Minsung said, suddenly serious. "You can do what you like, get away from those toxic creeps at university, and bag a career and money."