Paper Dolls

Chapter 2

I barely speak the entire ride back. Instead I stare at the busy sidewalks and brightly lit signboards that splash the city with their vibrant colours. Ever so often Dalia's face would stare back at me as she promoted the latest shade of lipstick or skin care line.

It's impossible to think of anything else. My entire day has been filled with her. Her face, her smile, the memories everyone shared with her. It's hard not to think about it but the thoughts are poisonous as they plague my mind.

Why did she do it? Was all of this the reason why?

I steal a glance at the driver who is focused on the road ahead and then look over at my manager who is seated next to me. His thick black eyebrows are bunched together as he types furiously on his phone, most likely working with his media contacts to further publicise my appearance at the funeral.

There is a hollow feeling in my chest, like a cavern has opened up leaving me raw and exposed. I've been training for four years now. Four interminably long years. We train six days a week on thirteen to fourteen hour schedules per day.

"Can I ask you something?" I turn to Mr. Oh, realising I don't have a phone to do the math due to our no phone rule.

"Shoot," He says without looking up from the brightened screen of his iPhone 13.

"What's fourteen multiplied with six, multiplied with fifty two and then multiplied by four?"

At hearing this, he finally looks up. "What?"

"It's just a math question and I don't have a calculator." I shrug my shoulders trying my best to look pathetic.

"One second." He exits the chat group he was on and opens up the calculator app. "It's 17,472."

The breath is knocked out of me as I lean back against the window to gape at him. My throat feels dry as I add on two more years for Dalia since she trained six instead and PT entertainment is known for having the most gruelling training schedules.

"What does that number mean?" Mr Oh asks me curiously. His dark brown eyes are larger than the average Korean size and right now they remind me of almonds as he stares at my face.

"It's the number of hours I've spent training at Firefly."

At hearing this he lets out a low whistle. "That's a lot of blood, sweat and tears. For your sake I hope it's all worth it."

His words are like alarm bells that ring in my ears. Most idols from smaller companies would be lucky to win an award their first year. Even luckier if they lasted more than three years without disbanding.

Sweet Poison was a multi award winning group with millions -if not billions- of views on all streaming sites. Dalia had it made, all those years spent dancing till your knees hurt and singing till your voice was sore was worth it in her case.

She broke through, she became what all of us dream of. She became a superstar and she threw herself off her building suite in the middle of the night.

There were no cryptic posts prior to her death. No suicide note, no signs of struggle, no talk of her quitting the industry. Nothing to give any indication to how she really felt.

It seemed so surreal and I couldn't believe she would throw all that hard work away, especially since I had gone through the same gruelling schedules. The only thing that drives me is the dream of seeing myself on the debut stage and then if I'm lucky the Melon charts or maybe even the Billboard charts someday.

The nagging feeling never went away. I continue to ponder as to why she threw it all away and what could be so bad about her life - the dream life I've always wanted for myself - until we reach the large block shaped building with it's bright yellow luminescent signboard that read Firefly Entertainment.