My cell phone rings loudly right as I walk past the grocery store. I let out a groan. Seriously? When I’m carrying two bags?

Putting down the bags into the basket of my bicycle, I finally pull out my phone from the back pocket and answer the call.

“Hello?” I spoke into the phone. “Hello, is this Miss Yume Ai?” the voice, unmistakably belonging to a man asks. “Yes, this is she,” I reply and push up the stand of my bicycle with my foot. With my free hand, I begin to push my bike down the pathway as I continue to listen to the speaker through the phone. “My name is Joon Yesung,” he introduces politely, “and I am an agent from BigHit Entertainment.”

All my movements go numb and I stand still in the middle of the footpath.

“Yume ssi?” the voice calls out again. “Very funny,” I let out a nervous laugh and reply. “Did you actually think I would believe such a lame joke?” I scold the person and take a look at the caller id mid call. It’s a number that is totally new. I don’t recognize it as any of my classmates’.

“Miss Yume,” the voice calls. It sounds serious but then again, it had a tinge of politeness to it, like he was trying hard not to sigh.

“This is not a joke, I assure you. We have recognized your talent and would like to recruit in our label,” he says. But I laugh. What talent? I have zero talent. “Mister,” I speak into the speaker impolitely, “I have no idea what you’re saying. I didn’t send in an application to any label and I definitely have no talent whatsoever. I really think you have me mistaken with someone else.”

Suddenly, a car pulls up in front of me. It’s a black sedan with tinted windows and all. The car screeches loudly upon hitting the brakes and I quickly come to a stop from pushing my bicycle by the handle.

The back door of the car opens and out walks a man in a black suit. He is holding a phone against his ear but his eyes are fixed on me. He looks scary as on later observation but at that moment, the only thing that wooshes past my mind is this. Doesn’t he feel hot in that stuffy suit?

The line from my phone goes dead as the man hangs up the phone. “If you don’t mind, Miss Yume, I’d like to explain the situation in a different location.” I glance at the people who have stopped to stare at the commotion and my reply follows in the form of a weak nod.

I sit down awkwardly in a café after ‘parking’ my bicycle in a stand as the man from before waits for one of his body guards (he has two, by the way) to hand him something. “Please be comfortable,” he says and suggests me with his right hand. Yeah, like being in front of scary strangers won’t make you uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, I sit and observe. And I see a lot. The man before me, whose name I keep forgetting, has bold features. He is well built, stern looking and has a straight posture. Office worker, I deduce and continue my deductions. There’s a very tiny speck of grey colored dust on his left sleeve which I reasoned was ash from a cigarette. He is neat, his nails are well trimmed and clean. He has slight wrinkles on his face which suggests his age, early forties.

I move onto his face. His eyes are dark so I can’t make much observation there. But the small eye bags under his eyes suggest that he is a late worker. My thoughts suddenly stop as my eyes dart back to his fingers. No ring. So he’s single and currently in love with his work.

“Miss Yume,” he says suddenly, snapping me out of the little detective game I was playing. “Please,” I imply, “Call me Ai. Yume sounds treacherous and old.” The man nods and continues, “Ai ssi. I assume you’ve heard of the Bangtan boys?”

I raise my eyebrows in sheer confusion and obvious shock. Who hasn’t heard of Bangtan Boys, more appropriately and commonly known as Bangtan Sonyeondan? I mean, they’re the rookie band who is bringing utter fame to the Korean Hip Hop industry. And I doubt that they’ll be satisfied by only being famous in Korea.

“Of course, I have,” I say recalling the amount of their songs I had on my ipod and phone. Let’s just say I get all of their albums even though I don’t buy them legally.

The waitress of the café comes over and places a tall and sleek glass of chocolate milkshake on my side of the table while she balances a cup of coffee on his side. She bows quickly and leaves the table which is surrounded by two other men who stick out like incredibly annoying sore thumbs.

The man before me hands me some papers which his guard hands him a few seconds back. I refrain from drinking the milkshake and accept the paper. As soon as I grab hold of it, I begin reading.

After about five to ten minutes, I put down the papers and let out a stifled laugh.

“I just find this incredibly hard to believe,” I say and turn up to look at him. “An official fanfiction writer for a boy band? Are you serious?” I fold my hands challengingly not sparing my poor melting milkshake a glance. Oh, the torture.

The man sitting right before me, whose name I kept forgetting, cleared his throat impatiently but he spoke with utter politeness. “We understand that it may seem strange but we promise, everything in that contract is legit. This is a good deal. For you and for us.”

I bite my lower lip and think for some time. And after another minute or so, I speak out, trying not to feel the grave nervousness that I was currently feeling in my stomach. “Let’s say I sign this. What lies ahead of me? You know I just passed my exams a few days right? And I have zero experience in writing.”

The man gives me an assuring smile and he sips his coffee. “We have read your works on several websites as well as your school papers. Believe us when we say we have selected you after much research.”

I grimace very visibly even though it might have seemed inappropriate and totally uncalled for. “That sounds very creepy on the stalker level,” I comment. Damn me and my stupid mouth.

The man isn’t amused. Not that I wanted him to be.

By now the droplets on the outer surface of my untouched milkshake is dripping down to the table. But still, I refrain from even smelling it.

“Besides, it states that we’ll pay for one year worth of your education if you agree to our terms,” he says and places down his heavy cup back to the saucer. Man, it looked cool in a totally scary and authoritative way.

“I read,” I simply spit back and recalled the deemed paragraph. The man is clearly not very impressed by my rudeness. But I can’t help it. It isn’t my fault that I tend to be very… Let’s just say that he caught me when my dark side was out.

“Miss Ai,” he calls and stands up as he fishes his pocket for what I assumed was his wallet. “You need to give us an answer by this week. Many people have applied for this post and yet, here we are, seeking you out specially because we know of your talents. But understand this when I say it. You can be replaced.”

“Great way to try to recruit me,” I say cockily before I add, “Ajjhussi.” The man sighs finally and pulls out something from his back pocket. But it isn’t his wallet.

Instead, it’s a hand gun. One of those typical and common hand guns which every police officers used. A glock 47 (or something like that). And it’s pointed right in my face.

“HOLD UP!” someone from the other side of the room interrupts. It’s Suga oppa.

“Mister Joon did NOT pull out a gun from his pocket when he recruited you!” he retorts and I look at him uninterestedly. The other people who were intently listening just a few seconds back shift from their crouching position indicating that ‘story time’ was over.

“Way to kill the mood, oppa,” I reply and scratch my head. “Just when I was getting to the best part!” I say angrily and look at my blue teddy bear watch. It’s eleven o’clock in the evening.

Jimin, the cute faced dancer laughs. “Hyung, why’d you have to interrupt? It was interesting!” he praises me. I immediately agree with him. “Thank you, Jimin oppa. Now you’ll never know the story of how Mister Joon recruited me to be your official fanfiction writer.”

The maknae line stands up and stretches comfortably. They’re in shorts and loose t-shirts because it’s late. Then again, so am I.

Jin, who was in the adjacent room when I was telling them my story, also joins the conversation. Aparently, he was listening too. “It was a great story, Ai ssi,” he compliments. “Too bad it was ruined by a spoilsport,” he shoots a dirty look at Yoongi who is now in the process of sitting down on the couch which the maknaes have just stood up from.

“Won’t you continue?” V asks, looking at me with pleading eyes. “It’s not that good of a story,” I reply honestly and stand up from the couch opposite to the one from where the boys were sitting. “I’ll come up with a better one, I promise, Then I’ll finally complete it without interruptions,” I say, glaring at Suga who is now switching on the television. “Besides, it’s getting late. And you have a long day tomorrow. I don’t wanna be held responsible if you guys are tired because of listening to stories made at the spur of the moment.”

“And that’s why we always suggest it. Why don’t you live here?” Suga simply says even as he’s switching the channels. He never pays attention to anything else bedsides music, this guy.

I let out the most fake laugh ever known in the history of the universe. “Live under the same roof with seven hormonal boys who are under the constant watch of sasaeng fans and reporters? Does this sentence even seem right in any sense?” I say and pack up my laptop into my bag which was on the table beside the television.

Jin is quick to reply. “You’re right. But still, we would never do anything to harm you. Believe me when I say that.” I feign hurt to tease the boys. “You mean I’m not pretty enough for you guys to hit on me?”

They immediately all shout out random sentences. “It’s not that!” V shouts out. “You’re pretty beyond reason!” Jimin states. Jungkook also adds, “You’re really pretty, noona.” Jin also says that I am cute and cheeky. “You know what we mean, you little devil,” Suga states in the end and I laugh. “Thanks for those flattering words, boys. But I’d rather be careful if I wanna keep my job,” I say and sling the bag onto my shoulders. “Besides, you guys are all prettier than me.”

I then ask where J-Hope and Rap Monster are. “J-Hope’s probably in his room. And Rap Mon is in ours,” Jin replies and I shoot him a knowing look with a sly smirk. “Oh My God!” Jin says aloud in frustration and embarrassment.

“What?” I just reply shrugging my shoulders in a totally non chalant way. But the smirk on my face in obvious. “I didn’t say anything!” I add.

Jin just rolls his eyes. “Your stories about our pairings are incredible, Ai ssi. But they’re NOT real,” he asserts. I roll my eyes teasingly. “But my thousands and thousands of readers seem to think otherwise, oppa. Even the writer herself seems to think so,” I reply and head for Rap Monster and Jin’s room. I only hear a groan from Jin and I smile victoriously.

Knocking on the door three times, I call out for Namjoon. “Oppa?”

The door opens after I hear shuffling of footsteps and Rap Monster stands there, looking totally cool and charismatic even though it’s eleven at night. “Are you going?” he asks. I nod. Then he begins to search for a jacket from the coat rack.

“Are you going out?” I ask. “It’s my turn to drop you tonight,” he says and I object immediately. “You don’t have to, oppa. I live just down the road.”

He simply says that it’s late and he will drop me to my apartment even if I say no.

I walk down the road with Namjoon beside me. His face is hooded and covered up but he keeps close to me. “It’s hard for you to walk even in the night, oppa. Harder than it is for me. Next time, I’m walking by myself, alright?” I say and look at him. He just laughs. “I don’t mind the fans, if that’s what you’re implying. I just care for your safety. You are a girl, you know.”

Gee, Namjoon. I didn’t notice.

“I feel bad for not wishing Hoseok oppa tonight,” I speak again. Namjoon just shrugs his shoulders. “His own fault for falling asleep so early,” he says and we finally reach the building that I’m living in.

“Well,” I say and bow slightly. “Thank you once again, oppa. Be careful on your way back.” He smiles and wishes me a good night. “Sweet dreams, author Ai.”

I continue to stare at his retreating figure until I decide to shout out something. “I promise to write amazingly for you guys. It’ll be better than J.K Rowling’s Harry Potter or Eoin Colfer’s Artemis Fowl series.” I see Namjoon laughing as he turns back. “I’m sure you will,” he shouts back and our conversation goes assumed as two idiots’, shouting random things to each other because no one recognizes Namjoon with his covered face.

Running up to my apartment as soon as Namjoon turned into the corner, I open the door excitedly and run in, forgetting to lock the door. It’s a decent apartment with two bedrooms, a kitchen and one bathroom with an attached toilet. There’s a small porch in the back which can be accessed from my window. There, I keep seven plants which I name them all in honor of the members of Bangtan boys. I still can’t believe the label gave me this just so I could have a comfortable environment for me to write my stories.

I switch on my laptop once again and wait for it to boot. During this time, I recall all the things that have happened since I was recruited to be the official fanfiction writer of BTS.

”It’s been a hell of a ride,” I comment to myself when suddenly, my phone rings out in Pikachu’s voice.

“Pika pi. Pikachu~u!”

It’s a message. I check it and find that it’s Jin; telling me to lock my doors properly. I smile and run to the door and comply what ‘eomma’ had instructed then return to my laptop and tap into it fiercely and unstopping. Even five minutes with them inspires me to write so much. Just imagine what a whole day with them would result in.

BIGHIT ENTERTAINMENT CONTRACT

27. THE DECISION TO USE A PSEUDONYM IS ENTIRELY UP TO THE AUTHOR. HOWEVER, IT IS ADVISED TO USE A PSEUDONYM AND HIDE YOUR TRUE IDENTITY LEST YOU WANT IT TO BOTHER YOUR EVERYDAY LIFE.

A/N: 

Short first chapter... Will get longer, I promise. 

And as the story progresses, you'll slowly understand the format that I'm trying to use...

Proof reader -san, please come online... T^T 

And even if you read silently and don't comment, at lease PM me because YOU ARE MY PROOF READER!!!

*Sigh* Oh, just so you know, this fic is plain crack and random stuff... Feel free to unsubscribe (^_^)