Chapter Text
Haeun had always heard stories about soulmate marks, whether it be from her family or friends at school. She had sometimes heard even random strangers in public talking about them, it didn’t matter who they were – they all shared the same opinion: that it was weird to not meet your soulmate past your mid-twenties. It had seemed like the Korean woman’s dream had an expiry date on it, and she was, so far, not months but years past. The blonde had never gotten what the whole big deal was when she was growing up; little Haeun always rolled her eyes at her playmates who used to pick two letters to sharpie onto their wrists. She’d complain to her amused parents at how childish they were as if she weren’t still eating cake at their birthday parties and never stopped crying when she scraped her knees.
Haeun continued the sentiment until she joined high school, to her peers (especially her female classmates) having initials on your wrist meant that you were cool, that you were a real woman. Now, much more mature and a hint wiser, she’d scoff at the idea of having her relationship with a man define her, but she still ached to see those two tiny letters appear one day no matter how shameful it felt. They didn’t have to be two letters but usually were, so Haeun expected them as such. Her mother had always reiterated the story about how she had met the girl’s father – and when they instantly saw their initials fade onto the other’s wrist. It was like something out of a movie, and honestly, Haeun dreamed of meeting someone like that.
He would be maybe a little older than her, definitely taller, handsome, and sophisticated (but with a silly side). The dream man would also love to dance as much as her – he’d be able to keep up and they’d spend the rest of their days dancing and traveling the world. Making a shit ton of money too would be a bonus.
But the hopeful dancer had turned twenty-eight and still hadn’t met him. The words of others never ceased to constantly echo around in her head: “Don’t worry, Haeun, you’ll soon meet him,” “Be patient” and the worst of all “Not everyone is destined to meet their soulmate for a while, unnie.” The half-hearted sentiments did nothing to ease her dread, nor did it do anything to close the gaping hole of loneliness in her chest when she saw two people holding hands in the street.
As the years passed anxiety grew in her chest with a vice-like grip, it only got more unbearable as the people around her would send her messages about finding their soulmate, or worse, would tell her in person. Having to act happy for someone when they had something you had only dreamt of getting was exhausting. The selfish urge to just blank them always arose to Haeun when that would happen, to preserve her feelings (and to be honest with herself, her sanity too).
The young woman was sick and tired of being patient.
“Come on, Haeun! We need to go now” Yoonji called from the other side of Mannequeen’s hideout. The shorter girl was currently adjusting her outfit, waiting diligently by the room’s open door. Waiting patiently was not one of Yoonji’s strong suits, and punctuality was not one of Redlic’s – so the fact the younger was shouting at Haeun to hurry up wasn’t surprising in the least. The rest of their team were already halfway down the hallway, stalling a little awkwardly to let them catch up.
Haeun felt a little bad, but needed to ensure she looked good for the cameras – she’d apologise to Eunji later for her punctuality issues. She also apparently needed to cover her wrists with foundation, she had ensured the production crew that she didn’t have a soulmate mark. That she probably wasn’t going to find her soulmate for a long time, but as a makeup artist said to her the first hour on set when they were running through the coverage of soulmate marks, “better safe than sorry.” It had pissed Haeun off (was their country really that conservative?), but she grit her teeth and got to dabbing her wrists with a beauty blender. So far, they had also asked her to cover up her hip tattoo with makeup too if she intended on wearing any “revealing outfits” or cropped shirts. It was only the first day on set and the number of adjustments she had to make to her makeup and outfit had given Haeun a migraine.
Finally finishing up in the hideout, she stood up, followed her shorter teammate out the door, and rushed to catch up with the others. God, speedwalking was always so embarrassing.
“Remember, keep your head held high. Smile, but not too much,” Yoonji was like a gym’s personal trainer with the way she spoke to Redlic half of the time. That is if she were training the older dancer in the art of being an intimidating opponent (Redlic would never admit it, but she sort of was doing just that – Yoonji’s energy and confidence were infectious).
“We can do this” the blonde muttered back, more talking to herself than her teammates. The set of Street Woman Fighter’s second season was overwhelming to say the least – walking down the steps had seemed like such a large challenge on the first day. There was the general consensus that it’d get a little easier as the episodes continued to be shot, but Haeun had never been a fan of false hope. She had never been a fan of social situations either, it had surprised everyone she had ever met when she had told them that (that is, if she had chosen to share it). Most would remark that she seemed like a quote-unquote ‘social butterfly,’ always out and interacting with people. The truth was, she didn’t hate people per say, but absolutely despised having to filter herself around others, which was something that was often necessary. Especially with family.
Redlic had always been a woman of strong opinions, even from an early age. Her father had always joked that she’d grow up to be a politician (“Ah, our Haeun is too pretty for that!” her grandma would reply, as if beauty and intelligence had never been compatible). Korean society had always seemed so closed off to her, even in her high school when everyone seemed a little more progressive than most. The blonde felt like she could never speak her mind when she was around others, scared of saying the wrong thing – or even worse, making herself vulnerable.
Yoonji always spoke her mind though (it was a trait Haeun was rather jealous of), that fact led to Mannequeen’s entrance being one of the more… memorable ones. Looking back they would cringe at Yoonji, ever the provoker, mocking Bada to her face. Their feedback video had made Haeun a little nervous, but a glance from their team’s leader calmed her more than any words could’ve. Eunji had an almost zen aura most of the time – people sometimes thought that meant the older woman didn’t care. How wrong they were, Funky Y was probably the most caring person Haeun had ever met, and definitely one of the most beautiful too.
Redlic that day wasn’t paying a lot of attention to anything except for the other teams’ arrivals (to be fair to her, what else was there to the first couple hours of shooting?) – they all seemed like fierce groups of women. Exactly the type of peers she had been itching to interact with most of her life, the dance industry – even in 2023 was still somewhat dominated by men. The Korean was simultaneously filled with excitement and dread at finally getting to compete against women, but it seemed that the atmosphere in the room had changed when it was a certain (highly anticipated, incredibly pleased) crew’s turn to make their entrance. Haeun had heard of some of the girls who were in Jam Republic; Kirsten Dodgen was a name in the dance industry no one could disregard. Not to mention Ling, a prominent member of the Royal Family. It was like Mnet wanted all of the other teams to feel like they were screwed right from the get-go. Hell, maybe they were. The nail in the all-dreaded atmosphere coffin was when Yoonji, confident & self-assured Yoonji, leaned forward and advised Eunji to not take her eyes off Kirsten; “Stare her down.”
The other female dancers the blonde had been working with for the show had never seemed to fear much – Waackxxxy, Yoonji and Cera were seasoned battlers who had gone up against the best of the best. So if even they went slightly rigid at the mention of a team, it wasn’t going to fare well for the weaker amongst the crews.
It was funny though; what revelations were made when Jam Republic finally arrived and walked down those steps – all bold and colourful and different. A good different too, unique was a better word for it, Redlic decided. Two revelations actually: the first being that the crew was possibly the least intimidating so far (in aura anyways, their track records could make even the most experienced of them falter).
The second was that Haeun wasn’t even looking at the famous, eccentric Kirsten Dodgen – who had seemed to attract attention like it was as natural as breathing oxygen for her. Or the Royal Family alumni, Ling Zhang either. She wasn’t even looking at the cute-looking American girl, nor the quiet, determined one who had the Samoan flag wrapped around her shoulders like a blanket reminding her of home.
She was, instead, looking at possibly the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her life. Redlic remembered, albeit a little hazily, from the videos her crew had watched of the other dancers that the dancer’s name was Latrice. All the dancer’s videos had been enjoyable (Haeun had personally really enjoyed most of Tsubakill’s and Ladybounce’s videos), but it had seemed that, when they had pressed play on Jam Republic’s videos, the room had gone completely still. Kirsten and Ling were good, like really good, as expected from the Royal Family’s bread and butter. Emma’s had been an interesting one as well, seeing Buckey’s eyes light up at her krumping had built a favourable opinion from Haeun on the Samoan girl – as whoever made her unnie react like that deserved respect.
The video of Audrey had left a little to be desired, Redlic had remembered chiding the girl in her head; “Shoulders down, shoulders down.” The American seemed to be talented, although Haeun was wary of her experience.
But the final one they watched of the Jam Republic members was Latrice’s, the blonde remembered at that point she was feeling a little drained from all the shooting. But Latrice’s video woke her up from her haze like a bucket full of ice water to the face. The first thing Haeun had noticed about the other was how steady her moves seemed, her footwork was like she was stepping on air. When the video had started Redlic had been a little surprised that the girl had been dancing barefoot, but now it had made sense – Latrice probably would’ve burnt through a pair of sneakers with how fast and precise her footwork was.
It had made a feeling of something rise a little in her chest, pride perhaps? The notion was ridiculous though, she hadn’t even known this girl – this girl who was on an opposing team, who probably had been currently attempting to rip the 95-liner and the rest of the Mannequeen members to shreds. A look to the right had determined that the others were just as impressed by the dancer who was not as known as some of her other crew members. Funky Y’s mouth had been pressed into a tight line, and she had not spoken for a long time as they finished up their ranking sheets.
Not a single one of them had placed a ‘No Respect’ sticker on Latrice’s section.
“We knew we were going to be up against other skilled dancers, don’t let the other crews intimidate us. No matter what, okay?” Eunji had spoken pointedly to all of them. They had all been feeling a little unsure, even before watching the videos of the members of Jam Republic.
Back in the present on the set for Street Woman Fighter 2, Latrice was smiling like she was genuinely happy to be there and it warmed Haeun’s heart a lot more than she would have liked to admit. She also didn’t want to admit that Latrice’s aura was attractive too – confidence was there but it didn’t present as cockiness. The newcomer had clear, flawless skin and long, toned legs. It wasn’t fair, Haeun decided, to be that perfect.
Her and the dark-haired girl hadn’t even made eye contact yet, but the blonde was fidgeting in her seat, waiting for the moment that the seemingly younger woman acknowledged her presence. When it finally happened, she didn’t know whether to regret it or relish in it, because Latrice’s eyes were just as pretty as the rest of her. Possibly even more so. They were pools of sparkling deep brown, like she was wearing contact lenses with glitter on them. Maybe it was a Western beauty trend Haeun hadn’t heard of yet? - she was always so behind with Western trends nowadays.
Yoonji, the resident English speaker of their team, had always joked that Redlic acted more like fifty-eight rather than twenty-eight sometimes. Haeun became glad that all the crews got to be seated at this point in the introductions because when Latrice started to speak, her legs turned to jello. It was rather embarrassing, that her competition had her acting like some sort of high school girl with a crush. She didn’t even like women that way, so why couldn’t she stop looking at Latrice?
When the Australian woman spoke, Redlic couldn’t understand most of what she said – only picking up keywords here and there thanks to her rusty English skills. But the words didn’t matter at that point in time, the way that she said them, all soft and playful. Like she was fond of whoever she was speaking to. And that accent. Haeun had never met someone from Australia but had always found the country fascinating. She had expected to find the accent a little confusing, hard to understand – it didn’t help that Redlic wasn’t that proficient at English then. But it was surprising, the fact that she could understand some of what Latrice was saying perfectly fine. It was probably because she was paying such close attention to the other dancer’s mouth.
If the members of Mannequeen had suddenly grown the ability of mind-reading, Haeun would have never lived it down. The slightly strange thought soon developed into an almost comical paranoia, and the blonde soon found herself tearing her eyes away from Latrice. Staring down at her lap and pretending to check that her nail polish wasn’t chipped proved to be exceedingly difficult in that moment. It was like there was a magnet inside Latrice and Haeun was a piece of shiny scrap metal.
But after all, it was just a stupid girl crush, right? Whatever she was feeling probably couldn’t even be called that as the two hadn’t even had a proper conversation yet, and besides, Haeun was going to be seeing this woman for months and months. She needed to squash whatever strange attraction she felt, and she needed to squash it now. Pulverise it, even. However, although the Korean wasn’t looking at the new crew it didn’t mean she couldn’t hear them; she heard Latrice laugh, and her stomach fizzed like she had just drunk a bottle of Coke after eating a packet of Mentos. The seemingly volcanic eruption of butterflies in Haeun’s stomach set off alarm bells in her head.
Shit, this was going to be more difficult than she thought.