You were seated perfectly upright in the back of a black SUV, or was it a compact crossover? Whatever, you cared not for the details about the type of car but the fact that you would be safe in it as the driver brought you to the desired location. Safety was the most important factor to anything in your life, right after professionalism. 

Oh, what exactly are you?

You work as a professional bodyguard, and not just any type of bodyguard. No, you are one of the best. Which was why you were quite honestly confused that you were going to have to work for a Korean pop company. You were probably not on their budget, because you cost a fair penny, which obviously meant they were desperate. If they were willing to fork up the cash for you, an a-list client bodyguard, they most definitely needed your services.

You opened the portfolio that was in your lap; the binding for it was black and leather. You wanted one to call your own, as it was quite lovely. You opened it as the car started to pull away from your apartment, your luggage finally being loaded into the back of the car. Your face was stoic as the driver greeted you, only lifting your eyes momentarily to make brief eye contact with the driver only to look down right away. You were busy and not to be bothered.

The driver blushed awkwardly, not liking how tense it had suddenly become in the car. “Miss, your boss asked you to get affiliated with your client as much as possible, so he has requested that you listen to their music to understand them well.” The driver informed you as monotonously as he possibly could, trying to match your nonchalance. You nodded simply, not bothering to look up from the binder that sat in your lap. As much as you disliked the idea, the boss man had a point. But how dare he take away your precious classical music!

The first song came on as you browsed through the profile of a man named Junsu. Or Jun.K… why did he have more than one stage name? Could he not simply just use one name repeatedly like everyone else? Your eyes scanned over the picture, and you couldn’t help but think to yourself: his head is rather large… You pursed to your lips as you ran over his stats. All the information you were asked for was present. Height, weight, eye color, hair color, picture, name, age (and birth year), as well as the rudimentary details. Anything else needed could be learned through experience.

You flipped to the next page, looking at a male by the name of Nichkhun Buck Horve… what? The name screamed foreigner, and that was exactly right on the money. Albeit you didn’t really have any ability to differentiate between the Asian ethnicities, you knew that Nichkhun was not Korean, at least in part. You also read how he was exceedingly popular he was, scanning back to his picture you scoffed. Clicking your tongue, you shook your head. “Overrated.” You muttered harshly as you continued to the next person.  Another muscular tall person, there seemed to be a pattern. But, there was something about his mouth… and then it hit you. A line from a childhood story couldn’t help but bring a smile to your lips as it related so well to this person:  My, what big teeth you have!

Next, quickly. You told yourself mentally.

The next boy, looked like he was going to be the youngest of the group, but then that would mean that your company had made a flaw in the information. Your company never flawed anything, so clearly this unfortunate person had an atrociously baby-ish face. Which was in perfect contrast to the male following him who looked significantly older than the last, but was actually was only a year older than yourself. 

As you turned to look at the next page, you actually did not look at the book. Your eyes glanced up to check on the GPS unit and to see how far you were away from your destination. The synthesized music was annoying you and you honestly had a hankering to rip out the CD that was playing and throw it out your window. You desperately missed your classical music and you were becoming antsy with this highly energetic and… for lack of a better word, you wanted to call it trashy music.

When you looked down, you jumped and held your chest; the picture that stared back at you had surprised you greatly. A grin played at the corners of your lips as you casually slid your phone out of your pocket and texted your boss congratulations on almost scaring you. You had worked for your company for a while now, starting when you were supposed to be in high school, and rising in the ranks easily. You had been with the company for so long that your boss and you had a good relationship, and you were most likely going to be left with the company one day. Your heartbeat settled and you looked over the final member’s portfolio.

When you were done, you closed the book and looked to the driver. You wet your lips with a quick slide of your tongue externally from one side of your mouth to the other. “Excuse me sir, if you would not mind waking me when we arrive, that would be greatly appreciated.” You asked politely as you set the binder next to you and letting yourself drift away to the heavy “beats”. 

The next time you opened your eyes, the driver was calling for you ever so softly. It was actually quite pleasant how delicate he was in waking you. You curled your hands into little fists and rubbed your eyes like a child would, nodding your head. “Thank you.” You croaked softly. “I will get out, if you could help me with my luggage…?” You trailed away as he nodded eagerly.

You stepped out of the car in your formal work attire. A pair of black pants, not jeans and not a structured fabric as you needed room to move, so a pair of stretchy yet formal black pants which was paired with a white blouse and black blazer. Your shoes were flat, as much as it would have been y and professional looking to wear heels. You weren’t trying to be y; you were trying to make a good first impression. As well as be functional, in which if you had to run, flats would be ideal.

The driver unloaded your bright pink luggage, which was a perfect contrast as to how you presented yourself. You who had your hair sleeked back into a high ponytail, you who held a calm, stoic and professional demeanor who was now standing next to hot pink luggage. You grabbed all your things, more than capable of carrying your own equipment inside the building and then up to the respective floor. When you arrived, you knocked on the door and waited momentarily.

There was a lot of noise coming from the other side of the door, and soon enough Taecyeon, you could recognize him easily, had opened the door. He seemed utterly confused as he looked at you. “Excuse me miss, are you in the right place?”

“Yes… You are Ok Taecyeon right?” You said as if it were obvious, as it very well should be. You started to enter the door but the larger man’s body blocked your way. “Excuse me.” You said, attempting to get in.

Taecyeon’s jaw dropped at your forwardness, looking to his manager who came over to reconcile the situation. “You must be the body—Are you the bodyguard?” The manager asked in shock, watching as your face contorted into one of contempt and annoyance as you nodded. “Are you the lady I talked to, you are a little… petite…” Albeit questioning you, the manager stepped aside and let you bring in your things.

“Yes, my name is ________. We talked on the phone I believe yesterday evening around 7:34PM, and you gave me the directions to this dormitory and you wished me a pleasant dream.” You recalled as you lugged in your stuff, moving faster than the boys who were slowly migrating towards the general living area to watch… well, you.

“Yah, are you sure she isn’t a saesang!?” One of the men piped up, but by the way they were all acting they were more like little boys. You frowned, hating to be grouped together with such a disgusting type of person. You held no respect or like towards anyone that was considered a saesang fan.

“Quite frankly I can’t list a title of any of your songs.” You stated bluntly, looking at them all with sharp eyes and pursed lips. This was honestly true; your first time ever listening to them was in the car on the way here. “Is there something wrong with my being here because I could gladly leave, and you wouldn’t be getting the protection your boss requested.” You continued to list how their “fans” had harassed them and what had been stolen from them, or so they had claimed.

The color drained in some of their faces, you were feared. Which is how you liked it because fear brought respect. Something like a god, or the God. You didn’t necessarily have any firm grasp on what you believed. This “God” people talked about instilled fear and thus got respect, which was how you liked your professional affairs to be run. “Are you sure she isn’t a saesang?” One piped up again.

You frowned and furrowed your brows. “You’re all much ruder than I expected.” You stated bluntly, bending over to collect your things and leave. If they did not want you there, there was no need for you to be there.

“Wait!” The manager gasped as he grabbed your bag, leading it back down to the floor gently. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have doubted you. My apologies.” He repeated as he bowed to you quickly. All you could focus on though was the snickering coming from the one you identified as the youngest. There was a technical term for that… oh right, maknae. The boy seemed to find all of this quite amusing, and that’s when it hit you.

This was going to be a tough job.