Eun Mi sat outside the CEO’s office. She rested her head on the arm rest of the long, white leather sofa. She had one of her legs tucked underneath the other, swaying her foot lightly. Her eyes were closed.

“Ms. Eun Mi?”

She opened her eyes, looking at the secretary smiling at her. She sat up, resisting the urge to stretch her arms over her head.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Choi will see you now.”

Eun Mi nodded. Her foot had half-fallen asleep tucked underneath her, she half-limped into the slick, modern, black and white office.

The CEO sat behind a glass desk, his laptop pushed off to the side. His jacket hung from his chair, his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, his tie slightly loose. His black hair matched the shade of the furniture.

“Eun Mi.” He said her name in the tone that he always used to show that he was displeased; he reined in the words tightly, almost cutting the sound of each letter.

“Tae Jun oppa is going to pay for this one,” Eun Mi answered.

“Tae Jun is only looking out for you. We all are.”

She sighed dramatically, lowering herself onto the seat in front of him, tucking one leg—the one that wasn’t half-asleep—beneath her. “Nothing happened. I went to St. Cecilia’s.”

“It’s not that you went to St. Cecilia’s, Eun Mi, is that you went at an ungodly hour.”

Eun Mi frowned at her boss. “Sir.”

“At that ridiculous, dangerous, inappropriate hour,” Mr. Choi corrected himself. “My point, Eun Mi, is that the sun wasn’t even out yet.”

He inspected her face. There were dark circles under her eyes, her lips downturned at the corners. She sniffed every few seconds, pressing her fingers against her noise in an attempt at politeness. Every once in a while, she blinked rapidly, biting her lip, a sign of a stifled yawn.

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“I got a few hours this morning.”

“In the dorm?”

Eun Mi didn’t say anything. She didn’t like to lie, didn’t like the heavy aftertaste a lie left in , sticking her tongue against her teeth.

“At St. Cecilia’s.”

“Indoors?”

Eun Mi said nothing.

Mr. Choi exhaled sharply. “You slept outside? In this weather? Eun Mi!”

“I went to visit Mami Lupita. I fell asleep while praying.”

“Have you been taking your medication? Those pills were prescribed for a reason. You can’t be spending your nights awake and then sleep out in the open. Think of the dangers.”

This time, Eun Mi couldn’t prevent her yawn. Mr. Choi shook his head.

“Don’t go out anymore, not unless you take one of the managers with you. No, I’ll get you your personal manager.” He pressed a button on his phone.

“Yes?” came the reply of the secretary.

“Ms. Lee, please start looking into hiring a manager for Ms. Song Eun Mi.”

Eun Mi watched with wide eyes. “Mr. Choi, that’s not necessary. I will—”

He held up his hand, exchanging details with Ms. Lee. He furrowed his brow in the way that told Eun Mi he was serious. Whether she wanted one or not, she was getting her own personal manager—her personal babysitter.

She ended up leaving his office discouraged, scolded, and stressed. She pressed her forehead against her locker, feeling the cool metal bring up goose bumps on her arms. Eun Mi wished herself back at St. Cecilia’s, sitting before Our Lady of Guadalupe with her head resting on that man’s arm once more.

Heat flushed her cheeks, a smile played at the corners of her lips. She was glad Su Jong hadn’t mentioned the man she had been with. Mr. Choi had no doubt in his mind that she had been alone; Eun Mi really wasn’t one to go out and meet with men.

“Unnie!” DAEE entered the locker room with a spring in her step.

Eun Mi pulled herself together, smiling brightly at her. “DAEE, did the photo-shoot go well?”

DAEE grinned a toothy grin. “It was so much fun! I got to wear all these cool outfits that made me feel like a model! The photographer asked me if I had modeled before debut.”

Eun Mi giggled along with her, jumping up and down in excitement. DAEE’s eyes shone with brighter intensity, her confidence soaring.

“I knew you’d do great! I’ll definitely buy the magazine. You’ll have to give me your autograph.”

DAEE laughed, standing tall. She flipped her short hair, her nose held high. “I suppose I could give you one autograph.”

Eun Mi clapped her hands together. “Oh, thank you! DAEE, I’m such a fan!”

They laughed as they changed into their practice clothes. DAEE peeked over at Eun Mi’s locker, spotting the large, black hoodie that hung there.

“Unnie, is that Tae Jun oppa’s?”

“Hm?” Eun Mi looked from DAEE to the jacket. She shook her head as she pulled on her sweatpants. “No. Why would I have one of Tae Jun oppa’s hoodies?”

DAEE shrugged. “It’s too large to be anyone else’s.”

“DAEE,” Eun Mi shut her locker, twisting her hair up into a high ponytail, “it doesn’t belong to anyone within the company.”

“Unnie, are you dating someone?”

Eun Mi raised her arm, her fist clenched, her head bobbing up in a threatening gesture. DAEE squealed, backing off as she laughed. She held her hands up.

“I’m sorry!”

They laughed, exiting the locker room arm in arm.

“Did you girls have a party in there?” Su Jong fell into step with them. He handed Eun Mi a venti cappuccino from Starbucks.

“Jongie, you’re the best!” She gave him her brightest smile.

She took a cautious sip to test the temperature. It was cool enough to drink but still perfectly warm. Eun Mi nearly chugged the entire thing.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down there you caffeine addict,” he said.

“She drinks it like if it were soju,” DAEE pointed out.

“Oh, hush up, both of you.”

Their dance instructor was already waiting for them in the practice room. He looked up from his phone when he heard Eun Mi burst through the door with caffeinated energy. Tae Jun was already going through his warm up routine.

Eun Mi shot him a half-hearted glare. Tae Jun simply gave her ponytail a playful tug. She reciprocated by slapping him on the chest.

“Ugh!” Tae Jun clutched his chest as if he’d been shot, doubling over.

DAEE watched from the sidelines. She and Su Jong exchanged glances. Hers told him she believed their leaders were together.

“I know something you don’t,” Su Jong said in a sing-song voice, teasing her.

“No, wait, what?!”

They played around as they warmed up, joking and exchanging snarky remarks. Their professor joined them, laughing at their good-natured teasing.

“Eun Mi, what do you feel like today?” Jung Min Joon asked.

Eun Mi’s eyes glittered, crinkling at the corners, becoming smaller as her smile pushed her cheeks up. “SPEED!”

“Zombie Party?”

“Yes!”

Min Joon laughed, playing her request and starting their four hours of practice.

When Zico woke up, early morning had come and gone. Bright sunlight outlined his curtained windows. His phone buzzed on the bedside table. The gleam of the screen made him squint. Kyung had been calling. Kyung was always calling.

Kyung was always calling.

Zico rolled out of bed, rubbing the back of his neck. He could feel his hair sticking out in all directions. He stuffed it under a snapback, washed up, and headed to the kitchen.

“Mom? Mo—oom.” His voice cracked, croaked, finally forcing him to clear his throat.

“You sound disgusting.”

Taewoon stood by the coffee pot, leaning against the counter as he ate a bowl of cereal. He’d been out jogging, his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He had a black hoodie thrown over one shoulder, his legs stretched out before him. A huge, lumbering bear; that’s how Zico always thought of his brother as.

“You look disgusting.”

Taewoon smiled a silly, tight lipped smile. He stuffed his mouth with another spoonful of cereal, pushing himself away from the counter to go sit at the breakfast table. He said something that came across as nothing more than mumbles.

“What?” Zico stared.

“I said,” Taewoon swallowed. “Mom went out to run some errands. She didn’t know at what time you would wake up, so she didn’t make any food for you.”

“Did she make you breakfast?” Zico rummaged around the fridge.

“Nah. I told her I would eat something light.”

“Are you on some kind of diet? Is SPEED having a comeback?”

Zico looked up from his search over to his brother when he didn’t answer right away. Taewoon was staring into his cereal bowl as if the milk and the floating oats held the answers of the universe.

“Hey.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, SPEED is having a comeback.”

Zico grinned, sitting across from him. “That’s great! Are you producing the songs? Do you want me to take a look at them? I’d love to listen to them!”

Taewoon sat back, rubbing his thighs. He ran his tongue across the inside of his cheek, his eyes focusing on the edge of the table. Zico’s grin vanished slowly.

“Hyung?”
 

“About that…I’m thinking about leaving SPEED.”

It took Zico several moments to process the information. “You’re…leaving SPEED?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“If you’re thinking about it, it means that you’ve considered the thought for a while. It means it’s serious.”

Taewoon folded his arms across his broad chest, tucking his hands into his sides. His jaw moved, clenched and unclenched. Zico leaned back, leaving one arm on the table, the other falling onto his lap; he regarded his brother in silence.

“Hyung, have you talked it over with the members?”

He shook his head. “You’re the only one I’ve told.”

A warm feeling of importance coursed through Zico’s system. He gave a little nod, repressing the urge to smile.

“Would you leave MBK Entertainment, too?”

“I…don’t know.”

“Why?”

Taewoon met his brother’s eyes. “I want to focus on my career as a rapper, as a producer. I’m not sure the idol life is what I’m cut out for, what I want. I mean, I love being onstage. I love SPEED, but…”

Zico nodded. “Let’s say that you do decide to go solo, would you tell the company first or SPEED?”

“SPEED. Of course, I would discuss it with them first.”

“What if the company doesn’t allow you to go solo? Don’t you think that if SPEED knows about it, it would strain your relationship with them, especially as their leader?”
 

“Jiho-ah, if I approached the company first, was rejected, and then the members found out about it, the sense of betrayal would be greater.”

“What about your contract?”

This exchange went on for a couple of hours. Weighing the pros and cons of Taewoon’s actions, outlining a future that neither of them could actually predict. Speaking to one another this way always felt like talking before a distorted mirror. They were so alike, yet extremely different at the same time. Some people said that they were two halves of a whole; they liked to think of themselves as a cracked looking glass.

By the end of their discussion, noon had arrived. The early hours of the afternoon had begun while they talked. Taewoon began to feel uncomfortable in his skin; the sweat made his skin itch. Zico started remembering his schedule as his phone dinged with continuous reminders.

Taewoon felt reassured as he rose. “You better get going. That sounds like it’s important.”

Zico scrolled through his schedule. “Um, yeah,” he rubbed his neck. “I should hurry up. I’d totally forgotten about this.”

Reaching over, Taewoon pinched his cute little brother’s cheek. “You’re so cute.”

Zico swatted his hand away, raising his arm as if to punch him. Usually, Taewoon would have placed him in a headlock for being so disrespectful, but today, the gesture reminded him of something else.

“Jiho, do you know anyone named Su Jong?”

“Eh? Su Jong? You mean an idol?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, sure I do. He’s the guy that disappeared from underground rapping back in 2009. He debuted back in 2011, a few months after Block B.”

“Really? What did he go by before?”

“ES-Jay.”

“Aah! Now I remember him!” Taewoon snapped his fingers. “What group did he debut with?”

“L6.”

“L6? Does it stand for anything?”

“Love Six.”

“I take it there’s six members.”

“Yeah.”

Taewoon nodded, and nodded, and continued to nod. Zico knew he should hurry up and get going, but there was a sparkle in his brother’s eyes that made him pause.

“Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you suddenly ask about Su Jong?”

“Oh, no particular reason.” He gave Zico a lopsided grin. “Have a good day, Jiho-ah.”

Taewoon’s back held a secret as he walked away from Zico. He could not quite make it out, could not quite guess the origin of his brother’s curiosity. That is how it was between them; they either knew everything or almost nothing about one another.

A cracked looking glass from which only a warped reflection of themselves could be seen and from which they could not always get a clear view. Zico supposed all siblings were like that, either too similar, complete opposites, or looking glasses.

His phone dinged once more, signaling that he had less than an hour to get to his first schedule. “Ah, .”