Me. I’m who.

   Joon said my one-bedroom apartment was just a stone’s throw away from the office, but everything would make more sense in the morning. He dropped me off at my front door. He told me the passcode; then he instructed me to change it. I opened the door, and he gently pushed my suitcase inside.

   “So, Miss Sinag, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

   I smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

   He scrunched his nose. “Joon is fine. We’re colleagues, after all.”

   “Then Lia is fine, too,” I returned.

   My new place was fully furnished, with the clothes I sent neatly hung and stacked in the closet (with my permission). I unpacked my suitcase and grabbed a pair of underwear; I pulled out a towel and my pajamas from the closet and connected all of my gadgets to the Wi-Fi before taking a long, hot shower.

   I was relieved that my clothes still smelled of home. It made me less homesick. The duvet, however, was another story altogether. Joon prepared it, but the scent of lavender made me stir restlessly. I heard no sound—just the steady hum of a distant frequency as I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. I forced my eyes shut and relaxed my body until I drifted into a blank sleep motivated by exhaustion.

   I woke up at 6 a.m. sharp. Joon said he would pick me up at 8:30. I was a slow person in general, so I decided to get up to get ready. I drew my curtains apart, and the view ahead of me showed an endless stretch of trees and sparkling edifices which varied in size. It was still too dark to see, so I stepped back and took a sharp breath. The sensation I felt reminded me of the time when I was in Hungary for a teaching placement. Everything was foreign—from the currency and language to how the air smelled—and while it was scary and strange, it also was fascinating and comforting. Everything clashed, and everything was simultaneous. Yes, it was that sensation.

   I prompted Alexa to play a random playlist as I quickly familiarized myself with the kitchen. My coffee machine was there, and beside it were the pods that came with it, already sorted by color on its rack. I suddenly realized that all the electrical equipment I sent over was already working. I made a mental note to thank Joon for getting the plug adapters for me.

   I tapped my fingertips against the counter, matching it with the song's rhythm as I waited for my mug to get filled. I looked at the floor-to-ceiling window at the very end of the room and chuckled in disbelief. It still felt surreal, knowing I moved countries once again. But I wasn’t really moving in both instances. I was merely escaping, and I had this inkling that whatever I was hiding from would catch up to me like it did when I ran away for the first time.

   Boo! Found you!

   Joon picked me up at 8:30 a.m. on the dot. We exchanged pleasantries; then he suggested we should have breakfast first. It was a short walk from my apartment to the café, which smelled of fresh pastries and coffee beans. Subtle murals of flowers and texts livened up the minimalist interior and white floor. Joon ordered an americano and an egg drop sandwich. I chose the same food but opted for a caramel macchiato for my beverage.

   “Lia, how long have you been living in Belfast?” Joon began.

   I looked up to calculate. “Thirteen years,” I finally said.

   “Did you have a difficult time adjusting?”

   I admitted that I did initially, especially with the weather and the accent.

   “I’m very introverted,” I began, breaking off into an abashed smile. “At that time, I found it difficult to interact with others, or even make small talk. It was a lonely start, but…”

   “But?” Joon pushed.

   I scratched my right brow with my pinky. “We briefly talked about this when you interviewed me. I told you I got into K-Pop when I was sixteen, right?”

   He nodded.

   “Well, it might be a very foreign concept to some, and even to you, but I’m convinced INFINITE played a huge part in shaping who I am today.”

   “You did mention they’re the group you admire the most.”

   I scrunched my nose out of reticence. Hearing it from another person’s mouth felt strange, and all the more so, knowing I had unveiled that part of me during a formal interview. I merely glossed it over, but I was trying to build the context around my niche, and how I acquired my qualifications. I couldn’t lie, so I told Joon as it is: because of K-Pop—or, more specifically, because of INFINITE.

   “Yes,” I said. “And I wasn’t kidding when I told you they were the ones who motivated me to try things I never thought I’d do—teaching, for instance, and getting a Master’s.”

   “Are you still a fan?” Joon asked, as he took a sip from his mug.

   “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being a fan,” I answered. “More than idols, I think they’re familiar strangers I somewhat grew up with. I’ve always wished to be as strong as them. I mean, your job posting seemed dodgy, but I applied nevertheless, simply because the company’s name reminded me of them.”

   “So here you are now,” he finished off, grinning.
   I laughed a little. “Yes! Here I am now. In another country, doing another new thing.”

   Joon cocked his head to a side, clearly attempting to carefully word what he was about to say next. “We’re only seven years apart,” he began. “But, what I can tell you now is that we never stop growing and learning. The older you get, the less relevant your age becomes when it comes to self-discovery.”

   “Thank you,” I said, meaning it. “I needed to hear that.”

   Joon smiled. “From what I’ve heard so far, you’ll like our leader.”

   Infinite Company’s office was sandwiched between a bookstore and a convenience store. The alleyways in Seoul were winding and somewhat steep. I’ve always considered Belfast a walkable city, but Seoul was of another caliber. Each street looked similar, but they still held a character of their own.

   The building had no reception area—just a hallway leading to a door. Joon led me into a square-shaped room with a shelf serving as a divider in the middle. The first half looked like a living room, with leather couches and a coffee table. There was a counter attached to the wall, with drawers and cupboards. On the surface was a kettle, a coffee machine, and a rack where mugs of different colors and designs were neatly placed.

   “This is where we usually rest,” Joon began, before pointing at the other half of the room. “And that’s the meeting area.”

   We walked past the divider, and the next space showed a huge, white desk with nine matching chairs. Adjacent to it was a room with a sliding door made of glass. It contained what looked like bins. A pet bowl was on the floor. I figured the employees here could bring their pets.

   I looked ahead, and saw an air purifier, a huge, gray fridge, and a water dispenser beside each other.

   Joon led me further down to show me the kitchen, the toilets (there were several), and the office where I would be working—it was an open-plan design with several computer monitors, white desks, and office chairs.

   We proceeded to explore the other spaces. He showed me the fire exit and the designated smoking area even if I didn’t smoke. Joon then opened another door, and my eyes widened upon realizing what it was.

   “Isn’t this a practice room?” I asked, my eyes absorbing everything—from the oak-colored walls, the air conditioner in the corner, and the floor-to-ceiling mirror across us, covering the whole span of the wall. I had to pause when I saw my reflection: utterly flummoxed, with my jaw open. I shifted my gaze to the ceiling, and stopped when I saw a familiar logo.

   “Joon…” I muttered.

   “Hm?”

   I pointed at the fluorescent light, smoothly transitioning in different colors. “That’s shaped like an infinite symbol.”

   Joon nodded. “Yeah.”

   “Like, INFINITE’s infinite symbol.”

   Joon nodded again.

   “A-are we in Woollim?” I asked, my voice coarse. “Did I just get hired by Woollim?”

   “No. We’re in Infinite Company. You got hired by Infinite Company.”

   “Okay,” I said. “Okay.”

   “We still have one last room to check,” Joon said, completely nonchalant. “Let’s go.”

   The last room was filled with musical instruments: drums, speakers, guitars, a keyboard, and microphones. Music stands scattered around. A tinted window was at the end of the room, and a door beside it led straight to the other side of the room. I just knew that was where the mixers and monitors were found.

   “If this isn’t Woollim, then why is INFINITE’s logo up there?” I asked, as I pointed at the practice room.

   “I think we can discuss that during the meeting,” Joon said. “And everything will make sense once you’ve met our—” his voice trailed off when we heard several people talking and laughing. They became louder, and I realized they were heading toward us.

   “Speak of the devil,” Joon said, smiling. “Let’s go greet them.”

   The moment we emerged from the music room, all of the pieces fell into place. Who stood before me were six men, all wearing thick hoodies and joggers. I recognized all of them. Then and there, gently—ever so gently—I was sixteen again. I remembered their first debut stage, and how I hounded their broken-off fansubbed variety shows on YouTube or Dailymotion, not caring if it was in 360p because their interactions and conversations brought me so much joy—the moments when I watched them would transport me from my room to their circle, as if I was sitting beside them.

   I was starstruck. Starstruck. The situation was overwhelming and surreal—deciding to work in Korea was one thing. Working under my bias group was another. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words materialized.

   “Julia, right?” the man nearest to me began. He reached out his hand. Long and slender, his knuckles were slightly red because of the cold. I glanced at him, and he was looking at me, his eyes kissed in the corners, perfectly complementing the confident smile that graced his lips. “Julia Sinag, from Belfast? Our newly-hired proofreader.”

   I nodded tentatively and shyly shook his waiting hand.

   “I’m Sunggyu, Kim Sunggyu.”

   I know. I thought painfully.

   “Thank you,” I spluttered. “N-no, I mean—I mean it’s nice to meet you.”

   “Oh, she’s the fan Joon hyung interviewed!” Dongwoo interjected. He was standing further back, but he stood out all the same because of his dyed hair.

   I looked at Joon, and he shrugged, a playful smile on his lips. “Lia, haven’t I told you? They were there during the interview, too.”