Chapter Text
He’d asked a simple question really. One that under any normal circumstance should have been fairly easy to answer. She could start with an anecdote, some story from her past that would give them insight into her life, who she is, or her upbringing. Or maybe a list of her hobbies and qualities, some of her accomplishments and skills. She could even sum it up in a few sparkling adjectives, try to impress them while keeping it brief and simple. With so many options for answering and her current level of anxiety so high, she’s unsure how she could choose one way to answer, let alone coherently execute it.
“How would I describe myself?” Serenity thoughtfully repeats back.
A simple question. Yet, this question– so insignificant and minor– would be the one to change the entire trajectory of her life. Looking back on it though, she’s happy to have thought it to be so ‘simple’. Because if she’d known just how heavy its weight was, she would have for sure shit her pants in that dingy green office chair.
~~~
“... I also think that, while I can be introverted, I’m very open about feelings and emotions which might have something to do with my education. However, I’m not sure if it’s a cause or effect. Over anything, I just want to help people; Help them love themselves, help them grow, and help them on their journey through life.”
Finishing her small ramble, Serenity looks to the board of three men sitting across the conference room table. They’d introduced themselves as the CEO and vice president of the company, and the manager of the group she was currently interviewing to assist, each of them staring at her with various degrees of curiosity and confusion.
“That’s very admirable,” The one who’d introduced himself as the CEO smiles from his position between the other men. He’s dressed in a red checkered button-up, the first three of which are left undone, with a khaki suit jacket on top. The round glasses perched on his nose have slid down a total of ten times as she’s been sitting here and has had to consciously resist the urge to advise a visit to get the screws tightened. She has trouble determining if his smile is genuine or patronizing as he does it and, momentarily, it sets her on edge. Though she decides he’s been kind enough up to this point– with no malice in his tone and an openness to his expression that she appreciates– for the benefit of the doubt and lands on the former. He picks up the manilla folder that's been sitting on the table in front of him, flipping through its contents. The two men on both sides of him follow. “And we see you’ve already acquired a Bachelor’s Degree in counseling from a prestigious university in the States, despite only being 22 years of age. How is that possible?”
She swallows hard, feeling her throat go dry. She has yet to completely understand why the mention of one of her proudest achievements makes her feel so timid and fearful. She suspects it has something to do with her frequent bouts of imposter syndrome.
“Yes, I graduated high school two years early, at sixteen. That combined with having already completed a few college-level classes during secondary school led to getting my degree a bit earlier than those my age.”
Serenity isn’t sure why she’s so nervous right now. She’d applied for this job on a whim after Rumi suggested it might be fun. If she didn’t get it she would be fine, she had time and more opportunities. And if she did great, a new challenge that seemed fun enough. There was nothing much riding on this interview. Still, she couldn’t shake the nerves– or rather, her anxiety wouldn’t let her. It could also have something to do with the cold, awkward atmosphere of the room and questioning looks passed between the three of them as soon as she walked through the door. It fueled her and made her want to prove to them that she was worth a job she didn’t necessarily desire it.
He hums, still looking through the folder that she’s now gathered contains her resume. “And your IQ is 152?”
She nods once, feeling her cheeks warm. Why had she included that again? “Yeah– Yes, it is.”
Another hum and sweat begins to bead at the back of her neck. She’s tried her best to read his body language, to put into practice material she knows like the back of her hand. Though under pressure, her mind draws a blank, too focused on her own body language . Don’t cross your arms. Sit up straight. Wait, is that too straight? Was she smiling enough? Oh God, is he still talking?
After taking a few more leisure flips through the folder he finally closes it, placing it back on the table before him. Then, clasping his hands together, he meets her eye. Again, the men on either side of him follow. She wonders if they'll ever actually speak at any point during this or if they’re just meant to act as some type of creepy clone intimidation. “This is all very impressive Miss, but also equally… confusing. I mean, why this position? Don’t you think you’re a bit overqualified to simply be a personal assistant?”
Overqualified? Was that the reason behind all the weird looks? It had never occurred to her that she had too much to offer. Too little? Yes. But never too much. Then again she wasn’t exactly sure what being the personal assistant to an idol group entailed. She’d assumed they’d want only the best, especially after being met by the head of the– albeit small– company for a simple interview.
“No actually… overqualified had never really occurred to me,” She voices her thoughts, spinning the silver ring on her pinky finger quicker. They exchange the same quick glances of apprehension and she feels herself tensing, grappling for something else to say that’s not so… lame .
Brushing a few stray, coiled pieces of fringe from her face she tries again. “I guess I know to some people it may be demeaning work or boring tasks. But when I heard about the position I thought of it as a way to be of aid. Whether it be arranging schedules, bringing people coffee, or fielding phone calls, if it helps make a person's life easier– let alone four people– who are to say it's not worth it?”
She seemed to be spilling her guts quite a bit today but, if the looks on their faces were anything to go by, it seemed to be worth it. This time, when they exchange glances it's with a smile, one she’s sure is genuine. Now all she has to do is make sure not to mention her love for boss x assistant fanfiction.
“Just one more thing,” The man farthest to the right poses. If she remembers correctly, he introduced himself as the vice president. She finds herself momentarily startled by the fact that he is speaking having concluded there was some sort of pre-established vow of silence in motion.
“You were referred to us by a hair stylist of the group, Ko Rumi. With that and what you’ve listed on your resume, you can understand why we’re a bit surprised that you are a… well foreigner.”
As the word leaves his mouth Serenity feels herself cringe. She’d been hoping that it’d be considered a minor fact and something they’d skip over since the company seemed to be in such dire need of a new assistant. Still, knowing how difficult it could sometimes be for foreigners to get jobs– especially the darker-skinned ones - she is not surprised. That was why she had been quick to apply to almost any and every job she’d heard to be available, except for a tiny detail. She was not a foreigner.
Smiling as naturally as you can in such a situation, she nods and repeats the short version of a story she’s told many times. “Yes, I am um– not . My father was raised here and, after some time in the States, returned with my mother while she was pregnant with me. I was born and raised in Ilsan. So, not really a foreigner, just… black.”
A beat passes and four pairs of eyes exchange awkward glances. It was difficult to understand for some people, how she could consider herself to be not a foreigner when she looked like one. But she was not. Something Serenity understood perfectly fine. All she could do was hope it would not affect their decision-making process, knowing that most likely it would. Fortunately, the pair of eyes belonging to the man on the far left, the group's manager, seems to soften as they meet hers. Immediately, she decides she likes him the most.
“Alright, Miss. Thank you so much for your time. We will call you within the next two or three business days to inform you of our decision.”
Simultaneously, all three men stand at once. Mildly confused at how quickly the interview had gone, she follows suit watching as they collect their folders and documents before making their way to the door. They all line up behind Mr. Checkered shirt, who motions for her to leave first. Pushing through her disoriented mind, she gathers her purse, shaking each man’s hand as she passes. Something feels as if it had been finalized with that last question, and while she isn’t sure what she’s certain she doesn’t like it.
It’s not until she’s halfway out of the door frame that she turns, suddenly feeling the need to say something. Gradually, she meets each of their curious stares. “I know I’ve made it fairly obvious that I don’t know too much about the whole assisting thing, but what I do know is people. I know minds, and psyches, and how to help those who are struggling. And from what I’ve heard, you have four of them who desperately need it. Whether that be me or someone else, their health should be the main objective, no? So, as I said, if I and my over qualifications could do that– help them– even just a little, don’t you think it's worth it?”
~~~
It was safe to say Serenity did not expect to get any kind of call back from that company. And even if she did, the last thing she expected was for it to be good. That is exactly why, finding herself riding the company’s elevator a week later on her way to meet the group she’d soon be assisting felt like some kind of strange, fictional reality. Even the ding! of the bell as the elevator doors slide open echoes in her mind as if she is dreaming.
“Right this way, ma’am,” The woman who’d been taking her on a guide through the building urges in polite Korean, prompting her legs to finally move. She follows her through the long, bright hallway in an unbelieving haze. The ceilings are high, walls are painted a soft white that matches the pattern below. The thick soles of her boots creating a quiet thump! with every step. About every six feet, a frosted glass door alternates on each side of her as she passes. She can’t help but smile fondly, passing a door labeled ‘Genius Lab’ with which there is a doormat displaying a white, cartoon cat holding its middle fingers up and reading GO AWAY.
“This is the hall containing the member's studios. While the rappers each have individual studios, for producing and recording, the vocal members share one. Each studio is passcode locked so you will have to decide with the members if they prefer to share codes or have you ring the connected bell.”
Though she can not see, Serenity nods trying to remember the copious amount of information that flows from her lips. It was only her first day and she’d already been overwhelmed by the number of contracts to be signed, tasks to be reassigned, and information to retain.
“And here,” She starts as they both reach the end of the hall, entering a code into the keypad on the door, “is where you will meet the group. Please wait here, they should be arriving shortly.”
She gestures politely, holding the door open for her to walk in. They both smile, exchanging parting phrases before she leaves, the door clicking shut behind her. The sound of which most definitely echoes this time.
Letting out a shaky breath, she takes a curious look around the room. The ceiling of this one was even higher than that in the hall, large bright lights lined its entirety. While most of the walls were standard drywall, one of the four was made up entirely of a floor-to-ceiling mirror. The flooring had changed from carpet to wood panel and littered with minute scuff marks and dents. Twisting the ring on her pinky finger, she takes a step closer to her reflection and gives herself a critical once-over. At the least, she was having a splendidly good ‘fro day.
No one had exactly given Serenity a dress code. Still, after Rumi’s advice and some of what she’d seen others wearing while at her interview, she’d decided on something business casual. Harder said than done though seeing as the weather steadily getting warmer meant having to choose between comfortability or professionalism and covering up the various tattoos littering her body. In the end, she’d been able to conform to what she’d hoped was a good representation of both, hoping there would be no issues. And if there was, the contract had entailed a trial period which would at least give her time to find another job. She didn’t think one could find much wrong in a black slip-skirt, and knitted, off-shoulder sweater anyway.
Briefly, she outlines the contents of the contract in her head again. So much of it had moved so quickly– the call, her arrival, the announcement that she’d gotten the position, the signing of paperwork, and her tour– that the ten sheets of words outlining what her purpose in the company would have seemed to all blur together. Still from what she could recall there were only about four main points:
(1) She was, to begin with, a one-month contract after which she, the group, and the rest of the team could decide if she was a suitable fit for a more permanent stance. If yes, she’d then be upgraded to a more long-term contract.
(2) While her degree did give her the added benefit of being able to care for things regarding their mental health and well-being, her main tasks should be working and scheduling-focused. Things such as fielding phone calls, organizing individual and group schedules, and making sure their day-to-day work runs smoothly should be her priority.
(3 ) Hybe prided itself on maintaining the privacy of all its staff. To keep this standard, it is crucial for her not to publicly share her hiring nor any details within the company for the duration of her employment.
The point she remembers the most though– and possibly word for word– was the last one. As short and to the point as it was, the two men going over the contract with her had spent so much time stressing its importance that she had to wonder just how big of an issue it was in the company.
(4) Absolutely no romantic, sexual, or anything past the terms of a professional relationship was to be cultivated nor sustained between Serenity Royce and a member(s), failure to comply would result in immediate termination on her behalf.
When skimming over the details, everything seemed fair enough. The entire process was relatively easy, especially after the background checks were complete, and it was still hard to believe she was here. Taking another deep breath to regulate her breathing, she smoots out the invisible wrinkles in her skirt.
Just when she feels as if she’s finally been able to catch her breath and adjust to her surroundings, the voices of several males begin to echo in the hallway. It’s then that the gravity of everything that’s just happened hits her, about just as hard as her heart banging against her ribcage. In all honesty, Serenity had never particularly been a fan of the band. This was due in part to her being too busy with college and work during their debut years to fully indulge herself plus her shameful preferences for American music over Korean pop. But, seeing as they were currently one of the country's more popular groups, she definitely knew about them. She would be lying if she said she had no idea who the members were or how any other woman her age would kill to be in her current position. And it's not until now that she thinks maybe she should be a bit more nervous to be meeting such prestigious celebrities, especially since they were kinda sorta her bosses now. Not to mention, there was also her peculiar knack for embarrassing herself whenever she’s first meeting anyone.
Eyeing the frosted glass of the door, she belatedly realizes how much sweat has gathered below the underwire of her bra. With no time to right that she takes cautious steps back, the beating of her heart now audible to her own ears. It’s almost as if she thought backing away will halt their inevitable entry.
As soon as the doors open, a flurry of chaos ensues. Two of the four boys are a tangle of body limbs and growls, pulling and pushing in some sort of fake wrestling fight, muttered Korean flying between them. The man that enters behind them is jumping into and around the room, visibly buzzing with energy, a bright smile on his face as he immediately sets to work. Then, trailing behind them all, another ambles through the door. Despite his pastel pink hair, the thing she notices most about him is how he carries himself. He’s on his phone, walking at a pace that suggests he has all the time in the world as he yawns loudly and looks almost bored. Lastly, Kim Namjoon– the man she’d previously met the day of her interview as their manager and who’d helped her with the paperwork– enters looking frazzled. Suddenly, the room falls silent.
Looking around for the cause of the stillness, Serenity finds everyone staring curiously at her, the random woman in their practice room. Smiling, she waves and meets the eyes of every member– everyone but pink hair who has yet to look up from his phone– as they widen in surprise. Clearly, no one had told them about her presence.
“Ah, there you are,” Namjoon spots her, making his way over. He smiles warmly, offering his palm for a handshake and she warmly reciprocates both. Seeing someone familiar, even if she wasn’t very well acquainted yet, lessens her anxiety a bit and helps her breathe a bit easier. She was glad he was the one she would be working closely with seeing as their manager and assistant would need to be on the same page. When he turns, gesturing for everyone to gather, they begin to congregate, all while still regarding her with apprehensive stares.
“They told me you’d be meeting us downstairs but this is better actually… Everyone, this is your new assistant, Serenity.”
He gestures to her, smiling encouragingly and giving her a brief introduction, even going as far as to mention her level of education and IQ. He shares a similar status, with his IQ level at 148. Still, she feels her cheeks heat up, something only worsened as some of the members clap and whoop at the words. Definitely should not have put that in her resume.
The first thought Yoongi has as he meets her eyes across the room is Why the fuck is she here . He doesn’t mean it in any sort of rude way though. He’s just reasonably surprised to see a beautiful woman in the company practice room– A real one at least, he wouldn’t want to “hurt” Jimin’s TWICE cardboard cutout.
He hadn’t been sure why the chaotic noise of the room had died suddenly, looking up only half interested in what had happened. That was until he saw her. After his initial shock, the increased rate of his heartbeat had been caused by the assumption that she was some crazy fan who’d somehow managed to break into the building. He soon calms though, realizing that didn’t add up with Namjoon’s friendliness with her.
“– Despite her bachelor’s degree in mental health counseling and impressive IQ she has kindly accepted the position at the company to put up with you guys’ foolishness and be the group’s P.A. So be kind, listen to her, and don’t stress her out. Please . I’m begging you, we need her. Okay?”
Yoongi notices how she seemed to get shy at the mention of her degree and IQ, feeling a small smile pull at his lips. He finds it fascinating that someone with such qualifications has agreed to do something so underrated as assisting and immediately wants to know more. Regardless, he values her education, knowing it will be good for him and his members. Plus, he always wanted to know a bit more about psychology and psychiatry.
Everyone responds simultaneously with a begrudged Yes and Namjoon continues to talk about the things she’ll be helping with.
He watches her as she watches Namjoon speak, nodding along with his words as he listed a few more details. The longer he does the more intrigued he grows. From what he’s noticed the company has always been fairly uniform in its staffing– Standard-level education and in their early to late thirties, it was very rare they had any sort of piercings or tattoos other than the basic, and most noticeably of all, they were Korean. With no intent to insult at all, everyone was fairly uniform and plain. While of course, there were a couple one or two that were outliers on the scale— a white younger woman a few years back, and a couple of staff with one or two tattoos here and there– none of them had ever differed as much as she did. From what he could see she had about six piercings in each ear and two visible tattoos. Her outfit, while particularly well put together, was… different. It reminded him somewhat, and he means this in the least insulting way possible, of an emo art teacher. All-black attire equal parts professional and fashionable, with numerous accessories, halo-dyed platinum blonde curls amongst the rest of her short, black afro, thick, winged liner around her eyes, and shiny lips. There was also her high education, and the fact that she was well… black and not Korean. Was that insensitive? He didn’t think so. Of course, Yoongi found absolutely nothing wrong with this, he was just surprised. And intrigued, most definitely intrigued.
Serenity .
“Hello, everyone, it's so nice to meet you! I hope that I can be of some help and we work well together,” Namjoon finally lets Serenity speak when he’s finished rambling.
He finds himself immediately impressed by how effortlessly she speaks Korean. He’d assumed the company would only hire someone who was at the very least proficient but the way in which the words roll off her tongue and the carefully placed inflictions in her voice are identical to that of a native speaker. He wonders how long she’s lived here when she’d learned Korean and again he wants to know if wondering such things is crass of him. All questions he’s well aware he’ll never voice.
As she finishes her introduction, her gaze flits over the group landing on him and causing a slight stutter in the rhythmic beats of his heart. He’s only able to meet her gaze for half a second– something he will blame on the quickness of her gaze and not his challenges with eye contact. Still, it is all he needs to imprint the visual of her face in his brain. Dark angled eyes staining his memory.
“Hi, I’m Jimin!” One of the boys suddenly announces stepping toward Serenity with crescent moon eyes and an adorable smile.
He extends his hand and she reciprocates with a pleasant grin. “Nice to meet you, Jimin.”
She begins to regret calling him adorable though when as soon as her hand is in his the cuteness disappears swiftly, his smile morphing into a tantalizing smirk with a siren’s gaze. She finds herself feeling the effects of whiplash as he takes another step closer, towering over her and grasping her hand gently.
“I’m in charge of this team’s charms,” He murmurs, maintaining eye contact. She feels herself grow warm under his gaze as he takes the hand she’d given him in expectation of a handshake and places a delicate kiss on the back of it. Still, she’s unable to help the laugh that escapes her chest, not only at his very cheesy attempt at what she’s sure is harmless flirting, but also at the various degrees of deep embarrassment on the boys behind him. Is this the reason behind requirement #4?
“Please ignore him,” Advises the next member to introduce himself. He shoves Jimin to the side, turning to Serenity and offering her a blinding smile. “Hello! I’m Jung Hoseok but most people call me J-hope! It’s so nice to meet you! I’m sure we're going to get along really well!”
She distinctly remembers him as the member who’d been the loudest and most hyper upon entry, and he seems to be keeping that up. He talks about a mile a minute, surprising her with the pure amount of energy radiating off of him. She struggles to keep up but nods along with a smile as he explains how appreciative he is to have someone to help out Namjoon. “It’s nice to meet you again! If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask, we can be a little hectic.”
She nods again, returning his handshake, albeit with less energy. “Thank you, so much, I appreciate it.”
“Bro, don’t scare her,” Offers another, deeper voice from behind him. He comes up behind J-Hope flashing a playful smirk before it melts into a boxy smile. J-hope only laughs timidly, throwing an arm around the unnamed member.
“Never, Taehyungie. That's your job,” J-hope grins tauntingly before ruffling who she now knows to be Taehyung’s hair. Nodding at her, he excuses himself, stepping back beside Jimin. Taehyung now meets her gaze and points at J-hope’s retreating figure, dramatically rolling his eyes.
“This guy,” He clicks his tongue. Laughter bubbles from her chest at the strange interaction and he joins not long after, chucking lightly before speaking again.
“I’m Taehyung. But I also go by V ,” He explains the deep timbre of his voice fitting his model-worthy looks. With the name he poses, framing his left eye with the English letter V he’s formed with his pointer and middle finger. He smiles again, causing his cheeks to puff. She thinks he looks adorable, noticing the subtle hints of youth that smooth out his features.
“Well, V,” She semi-mimics his earlier pose holding up a peace sign and feeling a bit of shyness fade, replaced by a swell of pride in her chest when it elicits a smile from him, “It’s nice to meet you as well.”
Their attention shifts , two gazes landing on the last member who has yet to be named. Before he can speak up, Taehyung jumps into space next to her, throwing a light arm around her shoulders, a smirk on his lips. “Last is our Yoongi, or SUGA is his stage name. He may look a little scary but don’t worry, he hasn’t bitten anyone… yet.”
A frown pulls at her lips at his use of the word yet, hoping he’s only joking. Pink hair, now known as Yoongi, rolls his eyes. When he turns his attention to her, he meets her gaze offering nothing more than a minimal upside-down sort of smile. Serenity is not sure what she’d expected, but with such chaos surrounding the other member's introductions, she finds herself a bit underwhelmed.
He does have pretty eyes though .
“Okay, guys!” Someone who she’s never seen before walks in, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. The circle they’ve formed around her begins to dissipate, a sort of serious energy taking over the atmosphere. “Sorry, I’m late but let's get right to it!”
~~~
From there it's hard to extinguish where exactly the trajectory of Serenity’s life course began to change. Was it really as simple as that one question? Or had it not been until things were official and the papers signed? Did that first meeting cement things into place? Or was it not until much later, that strong and long-lasting bonds were formed? Maybe things had always been destined to unfold in the way they did.
Either way, she would be forever thankful to these four boys and the family they’d given her. And more than all, she was eternally grateful, indebted to the world for gifting to her that pink-haired boy.