When five o’clock rolled around, Jemma looked around the new officetel, sighing with content. The place wasn’t much different from her previous one, save for the extra legroom on the second floor, where a double bed resided next to a spacious wardrobe containing all of her suits. The presence of a small TV was an upgrade to her living conditions, the device placed on a small table in the makeshift office-slash-living room. She didn’t bother turning it on, instead throwing on a khaki suit and heading towards the door. The managers would be meeting soon, all of them coming from the company building where she knew they had dropped off the band members. Jemma used the time she had left after unpacking to go over the members’ profiles, just scanning them without going in-depth. She was quick to learn their names and the most basic of skills they had, something essential to her job, as she would have to arrange their activities according to their strengths. You don’t throw a baby that can’t swim into the ocean, just like you don’t put an idol that is known for their lack of filter on a variety program that you know can easily ruin their career if the wrong word is said.

Leaving the flat, Jemma chose to take a taxi, instead of driving the van that often attracted unwanted attention. Sasaeng fans were known to note down license plate numbers and stalk the cars they knew contained the objects of their desire, although luckily she hadn’t had a run-in with them yet. Taking precautions however was a necessary part of her job, and knowing that the night would probably involve drinking – something she avoided, but sometimes had to be done – she chose the most sensible method to get to the place she wanted to be.

Once she gave the driver the address of the restaurant, she pulled out her phone again, reading over Kim Ryeowook’s file. The petite man she had met earlier today was looking at her with malice, and even though she hardly ever let her confidence be shaken by people like that, she still wanted to know what this was about. Pulling out his psychological evaluation – something every idol had to go through, though often without their knowledge – she scanned over the words written in bold. Trust issues they read, followed by a string of medical gibberish. She read through all of it, rolling her eyes in exasperation at the passage talking about his pre-debut days. There were some photos attached to that and she scanned them, more out of professionalism than personal curiosity. If she didn’t know any better, she would never have guessed that the sixteen year old pudgy teenager was Kim Ryeowook, the petite nymph of today. His transformation was uncanny and she made a mental note to monitor his food and exercise routines. Working with an anorexic idol was not an easy task – Jemma knew that from experience, having had to take a girl to the hospital at 4 in the morning the night before a music video shooting, thus successfully ruining the entire day’s schedule. The taxi suddenly halted, the driver loudly cursing in the front seat, as a silver Lexus pulled before them in the lane. Jemma stared at the car, vaguely familiar, but didn’t give it much thought, instead looking at her watch. Ten minutes.

The one thing Jemma hated more than disorganization was tardiness. In her mind, tardiness went hand in hand with slacking off, and she despised people who would slack off. If you’re not one hundred percent dedicated to the task at hand, why even bother doing it in the first place? If you won’t put your every waking second to accomplishing what you’ve started, why even begin? Dedication had always been the number one rule Jemma lived by, to the point where she would put all her energy into achieving her goal, forgetting about everything else. After a particularly memorable incident that sent her to the hospital to be put on IV fluids – lucky for her the company covered those costs, as most of their artists had to have those weekly – involving staying up for 3 days straight without any nutrition, working on sorting out a very complicated scheduling conflict for the girls, Jemma had however found the right balance between rest and work, carefully tiptoeing the thin line between sanity and delirium.

When the clock struck six, she entered the restaurant, looking around for Myungsoo or another familiar face. Upon seeing none, she spun around, facing the hostess who was smiling brightly at her.

“Reservation for four under…Park Myungsoo, I am guessing?” she said, cursing the man in her mind for not giving her any details about whose name he had the table under. The woman checked and smiled, leading her towards the back of the restaurant, to a private room set for four.

“The rest of your party has not yet arrived,” she informed her, before leaving.

Jemma chose to sit on the far end of the table, farthest from the door. The lights were dim, the room tastefully decorated in white and green. It was too colourful for her taste, but at least the kitsch was held to a minimum. She looked at her phone, expecting a message from Myungsoo, but there was none. Five minutes after six. She sighed.

At ten past six, the door swung open and three men entered the room. One of them was Myungsoo, wearing a casual pair of jeans and t-shirt. The other two men were presumably Kwanghyung and Seojin, the rest of the Super Junior managers. Jemma rose to her feet, bowing politely and introducing herself in a formal language.

“Lower your speech,” Myungsoo smiled, settling opposite of her, “We’re all friends here, or at least we have to be in order to make the boys the best they can be,” the other two men nodded.

Jemma took a deep breath, unable to understand what the man was trying to achieve. Wasn’t it just this morning that the man basically called her unfit for the job? Why was he acting so friendly all of the sudden? She decided to go along with his little power play, engaging in conversation about the band after ordering a few bottles of water and soju.

“I received their files, however I have not been able to read through all of them yet,” she said, pouring the other men alcohol. Kwanghyung, whom she had learned was the youngest in the group, even younger than her, poured her a glass and they clunked them.

“Well, it’s mostly organizational things that’s in those files,” Seojin said, downing his glass in one shot, “There are a lot of things the company doesn’t know about the band that they are not supposed to know either, and we are here to fill you in on those,” he smiled warmly. Jemma drew a sharp breath, her eyes unblinking, as she wondered what he meant.

“But…an idol is not supposed to have secrets from their company,” she said, taking a sip of water.

“And I am not saying they do. It’s just little things that the Big Guys would have a field day selling to the press if they knew about them,” Myungsoo chuckled. Jemma plastered a fake smile, patiently waiting for the man to continue speaking. The concept of keeping secrets wasn’t foreign to her, but she never really liked doing so. There were rules for a reason, she knew that, and without those rules the entire system would go down the drain. Keeping secrets, although sometimes necessary, was something that often led to problems if the secret at hand was exposed.

“Alright,” Kwanghyung looked at her over his glass, “There are two sets of rules the boys have to follow for a peaceful life. There is the first set, the one issued by the company that you are aware of, correct?” she nodded, the contents of the idols’ standardized contracts appearing before her inner eyes, “And then there is the set that the boys actually follow. Don’t look so shocked,” he added, as Jemma’s head shot up to stare at him in shock.

“Who have you been assigned to?” Seojin asked. She cleared before answering, still a little confused by what went on in that band.

“Kyuhyun, Henry and Ryeowook,”

Her reply was met by a range of emotions and she could see amusement and pity in their eyes.

Myungsoo looked at her seriously, “Sorry. It’s an interesting combination, though it should come with a few fair warnings,”

“Never try to get Kyuhyun to put away the video games, it doesn’t work,” Kwanghyung said, shuddering at the memory of trying to take away Kyuhyun’s computer once, “I attempted that and he went on a hunger strike until I returned his laptop,”

Jemma just stared at him. He must have been joking, because no grown man would ever do anything like that…right?

“Also, he recently started getting a lot of theatre offers, which I will email to you later, maybe you’d want to look over them and choose the best ones,” Myungsoo added.

“Do you speak English,” Seojin asked again, eyeing her carefully.

“Yeah, I’m actually American,”

“This explains why she was assigned t