The Contract

Two

South Korea was always freezing during the winter. The snowfall was almost constant, and though it always painted a pretty picture outside of your bedroom window, it had become an inconvenience to you. Especially when you'd first moved to Seoul and just wanted to get on with it. But Seoul residents were more than used to it. In fact, it wasn't even a novelty for them. And you quickly joined them in wrapping up warm from the bitter weather and learning how to walk with ease on fresh sheets of snow.

You didn't live too far from Big Hit, your place of work. A request made by your boss who had paid for your apartment. He wanted to make sure you were always easily on hand just in case you were needed to give the artists a quick face of makeup. And, you were one of the best. No one knew how you did it, but you always managed to make the boys look ethereal - well, more than usual anyway. And though fans didn't know it was you, they certainly appreciated your work. As did BTS themselves. You quickly became in charge in the makeup room, and, unlike some of the other artists, you weren't assigned to a member in particular. You loved your job, and you loved the people around you who made your job special. You also loved BTS, and not because of their fame, but because they were amazing guys who made you feel like one in a million. They were so sweet and lovely to you constantly, and you adored them with every bone in your body.

The snow crunched underneath you, not that you noticed, as your ears were filled with your music. Your noise-cancelling headphones doubled as a pair of earmuffs, protecting you from the bitterness surrounding you, in more ways than one. Gloved hands opened the door to the office building, kicking the snow off your boots and trudging your way across the bright, shiny floors.

Manager Sejin's office was on the second floor, just above the boys' recording studios. He had the smallest of all the offices at his own request. He much preferred working outside of the office, in café's, or even alongside the boys. He was the kindest of all their managers, the most genuine. The one who cared the most about the boys welfare. Though you didn't have a lot to do with the managers, or the musicians you weren't painting the faces of.

You sat in the chair opposite him, the desk in between the middle of you, making this feel like a very formal meeting. Though, with Sejin, meetings were never usually formal. He was such a kind-hearted, happy-go-lucky person, he just preferred informal situations and would often have meetings where everyone would just hang out and have a laugh. But the seriousness in Sejin's tone and on his face made you a little uncomfortable, and nervous truth be told.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, wondering if your job was still yours.

"Everything's fine." Sejin replied calmly. "I actually have a proposition for you."

Sejin began to explain the situation at hand, as gently and delicately as he could without scaring you too much. Truth be told, you were an asset to the company and he couldn't risk you leaving. You were irreplaceable. You were trustworthy, both with the staff and with the band. You were kind, and hard working. You loved your job and were pretty much worth every penny the company spent on you. But the guys wanted you. Not that they knew it was you they wanted, but they wanted you. He couldn't lose you - Shihyuk and Bangtan would have his neck.

You couldn't lie, you had heard of this arrangement before. Many of your friends in the industry who worked for other bands had often talked about how their clients would share a person. Though, that was all you knew. You didn't care to look into it, nor did you have an opinion on it. It was just something that happened within K-Pop that seemed to be consensual and something that you'd never find yourself involved in. Well, you thought as much anyway. But there you were, in Manager Sejin's office with the words coming out of his mouth basically asking you to spread your legs for seven men, and get paid really well for it. You were, according to your own mind, going to be a high-class prostitute. And you weren't entirely sure whether you should be offended or not.