Chapter Text
The world smelled like antiseptic and stale crackers.
Hana's eyes blinked open slowly, a blinding slice of sunlight fracturing across her vision. She felt heavy, stiff, and confused, like a poorly assembled IKEA dresser left out in the rain. She lay perfectly still, tracing the outline of the ceiling fixture, trying to remember what day it was.
Tuesday. She was certain it was Tuesday. Tuesday meant she had to file the quarterly reports at her soul-sucking accounting temp job, followed by an evening spent attempting to learn ATEEZ's HALA HALA choreography, only to fail spectacularly before collapsing in a heap of frustrated sweat.
She sat up suddenly, wincing as her neck popped. She wasn't home. This was a hospital room—small, sterile, and aggressively beige.
A crash. A truck horn. A searing pain.
It came back in disjointed flashes. A minor accident, she recalled. A taxi running a red light while she was crossing the street. She must have been checked in, given a shot of something strong, and tucked away for observation.
A nurse, a kind woman with tired eyes, entered with a clipboard. "Oh, Hana-ssi! You're awake! How are you feeling?"
"Like I slept for a week," Hana mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Did I miss work? Is it still Tuesday?"
The nurse chuckled softly, a sound filled with gentle pity. "It's Friday, dear. Friday, November 24th."
Hana frowned. "But... I was just hit last night."
"Hana-ssi," the nurse said, pulling up a chair, her expression turning serious. "You've been with us for six months. You were in a medically induced coma for a good portion of that."
Six months. Six months? The world tilted. She had missed half a year of her life. She missed spring, summer, and the comeback season.
Panic tightened her chest. "Wait, wait. Did... did I miss the SEVENTEEN world tour? Did BTS come back from their hiatus? Please tell me I didn't miss the ATEEZ end-of-year concert!"
The nurse blinked, clearly unfazed by the sudden shift in priorities. "Oh, the K-pop groups. That's all everyone talks about now, isn't it? Dear, you've been out of it for a while. A lot has changed."
Hana waited, dread forming a cold knot in her stomach.
"The mandatory enlistments happened quickly this year," the nurse continued delicately. "When you went in, a lot of the big groups were already transitioning. All the remaining active members from the major acts—the ones who haven't gone yet—they were merged. It was an unprecedented move. The industry changed overnight."
Hana stared, mouth agape, the antiseptic scent of the room growing overpowering. "Merged? Who merged? Tell me everything!"
_________
Hana's first few hours out of the hospital were a dizzying blur of catching up on five months of global news, which mostly involved watching YouTube and reading endless entertainment articles on her phone. She felt less like she had been in a coma and more like she had been dropped into a meticulously crafted, terrifyingly appealing alternate reality.
The nurse hadn't been kidding.
Following the mass enlistment of various core members from nearly every top-tier group, the major companies had collaborated to form one ultimate, temporary, K-pop supergroup. The remaining active members were pooled into a project called IGNITE—a name that sounded appropriately high-octane.
She pulled up the official profile page on her laptop. Her eyes scanned the member list, and her breath hitched. The reality of the situation hit her with the force of a tidal wave.
| IGNITE Member | Original Group | Position |
|---|---|---|
| Kim Namjoon (RM) | BTS | Leader, Main Rapper |
| Park Jimin | BTS | Lead Vocalist, Main Dancer |
| Jeon Jungkook | BTS | Main Vocalist, Center |
| Park Seonghwa | ATEEZ | Sub Vocalist, Visual |
| Song Mingi | ATEEZ | Main Rapper |
| Xu Minghao (The8) | SEVENTEEN | Lead Dancer, Sub Vocalist |
| Kim Mingyu | SEVENTEEN | Lead Rapper, Visual |
| Boo Seungkwan | SEVENTEEN | Main Vocalist |
It was a staggering, impossible line-up. Every single active bias she had, all in one room, making music.
"Oh my god," she whispered, pressing her fingers to her mouth. It was the ultimate dream, a fantastical wish carved from the recesses of her biased mind. Jimin's fluidity combined with Minghao's precision. Mingi's aggressive rapping next to Namjoon's thoughtful flow. And the vocal power of Jungkook, Jimin, and Seungkwan? It was almost too much to process. It was surreal. This couldn't be real.
—------
After days spent consuming every bit of IGNITE content she could find—their debut album was a critical masterpiece, their first concert sold out in three seconds, their music videos broke records—Hana knew she couldn't return to her temp job. Not now, not after this miracle.
She decided to pursue her passion. She updated her resume, focusing on her long-dormant dream of being a music journalist or a creative assistant. She sent her portfolio, which included several well-written, if overly enthusiastic, articles about her favorite groups (including a five-thousand-word essay on the poetic symmetry of The Rose's discography).
She wasn't expecting anything.
She was a nobody, a recovering coma patient with a penchant for idol lore.
Then, the call came.
"Hello? This is Kim Hana speaking."
The voice on the other end was sharp, professional, and slightly aggressive. "Ms. Kim, this is Chief Manager Cha. We received your application. Your analysis of the current state of K-pop, particularly your piece on the cultural necessity of the 'Global Line' members, caught our attention."
Hana's heart hammered against her ribs. "You... you mean my essay on Minghao, Felix, and Jackson?"
"Indeed. We are looking for a personal assistant to a key member of IGNITE. The role is intense, high-pressure, and requires absolute discretion. It starts tomorrow morning. Can you meet with me for a final interview tonight?"
It was a ludicrous timeline, but Hana didn't hesitate. "Yes, Manager Cha. I'll be there."
___________
The final interview was less a conversation and more a firing-squad interrogation.
Manager Cha was ruthless, probing her weaknesses and testing her loyalty. Hana held her ground, fueled by a terrifying cocktail of adrenaline and pure fan dedication.
"You understand the rules, Hana-ssi?" Manager Cha leaned forward across the massive desk. "No social media, no discussion of schedules, no emotional attachment. You are a ghost. You anticipate their needs before they exist."
"I understand," Hana promised. "I live by the motto: Discretion is the ultimate fangirl service."
Manager Cha actually cracked a thin smile. "Good. You're hired. Your duties begin tomorrow morning at 6 AM sharp. Your principal employer will be... Jungkook."
The name hit Hana with the force of an actual punch. Jungkook. The globally recognized superstar, the Golden Maknae, the man who perfected everything he touched.
He was beautiful, intense, and terrifyingly demanding. Her primary BTS bias, but also the member most famous for his relentless pursuit of excellence.
"He requires a high level of detail and is... difficult to work for," Manager Cha continued, handing Hana a binder that felt like it weighed five pounds. "Your main focus will be managing his solo schedule, his nutrition, his equipment, and his personal needs. Report to the main IGNITE dorm in Gangnam."
Hana nodded, her mind already spinning with the impossible logistics. She was now an intimate, necessary part of her favorite group's life. It was too fast, too unbelievable, too perfect.
She left the corporate office, clutching the heavy binder like a lifeline. The night air was cold, but she felt feverish. This was not the reality she had known before the accident. This world, where her ultimate K-pop dreams had manifested as a professional opportunity, felt entirely fabricated.
But for now, the dream was real. And tomorrow, she would be serving coffee and organizing protein shakes for the world's most intense superstar.
Or was it?