Chapter Text
The BigHit conference room was all clean lines and warm lighting. CORTIS sat on one side of the long table—Martin at center, James by his side, Juhoon with his hands folded, Seonghyeon his golden boy smile, and Keonho vibrating faintly in his chair. Their manager, Park Jaewon, stood at the head of the table reviewing his tablet.
The door opened—Han Somin, a well known manager walked in first, mid-thirties, sharp navy blue blazer, the kind of face that screams she’s seen a decade in the industry. Behind her, you shuffled in.
Gray hoodie, sleeves tucked up to your arms, worn jeans, bright red sneakers, and on your head covering your entire face, a soft square headpiece, the same shade as your shoes. On it, two white dots stared out where your eyes should be blank and unblinking.
You found your chair with a brief brush of your fingers against the backrest, sat down, and didn't move. The box faced forward and you didn't speak.
Keonho's leg stopped bouncing.
Seonghyeon's pen clattered onto his notebook.
Martin just stared at you, professionally.
James's eyes narrowed.
And Juhoon just seemed unbothered but amused.
But Jaewon recovered smoothly.
"Welcome. We've heard incredible things about your work."
"Thank you." Your voice was muffled but clear.
"Happy to be here."
Somin opened her laptop. "Shall we go through the contract? I've looked over the terms. A few points need clarification, but overall it's solid."
"Of course."
Jaewon launched into the details—twelve-week production window, Studio A reserved for your exclusive use, a seventy-thirty credits split on solo productions, fifty-fifty on collaborations.
Somin nodded along, asking precise questions. The two of them fell into an easy professional rhythm, and through all of it, you remained motionless.
The CORTIS members were not handling it as well as Jaewon.
Martin kept his eyes on Jaewon, but his attention kept drifting towards you.
James had angled his chair slightly, openly watching the red box with an unreadable expression that looked half-amused, half as if piecing together a puzzle.
Juhoon glanced at you, blinked slowly, and looked away—caught between politeness and curiosity.
Seonghyeon had just stopped smiling entirely.
And Keonho was staring with the undisguised wonder of someone who'd just discovered a new species.
After about fifteen minutes, Jaewon set his tablet down.
"I think we're aligned on terms…Before we move to the creative discussion, I have one request."
He paused, diplomatic.
"Would you mind removing the headpiece? Just for the introductions. I think it would help the boys feel a little more…at ease."
Somin glanced at you.
You gave a small nod, reached up, and lifted the box off your head.
You set it on the table in front of you and turned your face toward Jaewon's voice—slightly off-center, your dark eyes unfocused but your expression perfectly neutral.
The silence that followed was absolute.
You were undoubtedly stunning. High cheekbones, delicate jaw, lips resting in a neutral line that still managed to look elegant. Your skin was clear, slightly flushed from the warmth of the fabric, your hair mussed and falling in soft disarray around your face. And your eyes—dark and depthless like onyx, unseeing but somehow still piercing—completed a face that belonged on a magazine cover rather than hidden inside a red tic-tac.
Jaewon stared for a full three seconds before catching himself. "That's—you're very—" He cleared his throat.
"Forgive me, but I have to ask. Have you ever had any cosmetic surgery?"
"No."
"It's just—your features are remarkably balanced, wow."
Somin cut in smoothly.
"She's all natural. Too fussy to get anything done. I can barely get her to sit still for a haircut."
You turned your head toward her.
"I just don't like people touching my face."
"Or your hair, or your wardrobe, or anything that isn't a mixing console."
"That's not true…I let you fix my collar that one time…"
"Because it was inside out and you were about to meet Pharrell Williams."
Your brows just furrowed, clearly annoyed but not pressing any further.
Jaewon smiled, some of his initial shock fading into genuine amusement.
"Well. It's nice to finally meet the face behind this talent”
"Save the flattery, my art has no face.”
Somin scoffed, and turned back to her laptop and began reading through the finalized contract points.
You listened without moving, your face blank, your unfocused eyes fixed somewhere in the vicinity of the CORTIS members.
Since you couldn't actually see them, you didn't seem to realize you were staring directly at Keonho.
His face went pink, and he opened his mouth as if to say something before apparently thinking better of it and clamping it shut again.
Martin, trying to salvage some sense of normalcy, slid a can of coffee across the table toward you and it bumped against your elbow.
"Coffee," he said. "If you want some."
"Thank you."
You reached for it, feeling the opening of the can with your other hand.
The sound of an opened beverage can echo against the conference room, and you slowly press it against your lips.
You take one full swig, and instead of coffee, your mouth is greeted by the taste of tin—and it spills from your nose all the way to your ears.
Keonho gasped. "Oh no—"
Somin glanced at you knowingly, already reaching for napkins.
"I'm fine." You stood, your chair scraping back, coffee dripping from the hem of your hoodie.
"Where's the restroom?"
Keonho pointed.
"Over there—oh sorry."
Martin scoffed and said briefly, “Down the hall to the left. Second door.”
"Thanks."
You grabbed your extendable cane from your pocket, flicked it open with a practiced snap, and left the room without another word.
A beat of silence.
Then Keonho slumped forward, head in his hands.
"I can't believe I said that. She's going to think—"
"It was an accident," Seonghyeon said gently.
"She looked so annoyed."
"She always looks like that," Somin said, not unkindly.
She was mopping up the spilled coffee with a stack of napkins.
"Don't take it personally.”
Jaewon excused himself to fetch more napkins, and Somin stayed behind, tidying the spill.
About five minutes later, you returned.
A small coffee stain was visible on your hoodie—you'd clearly tried to blot it out with water—and your face was damp, droplets still clinging to your jaw and hairline. You'd clearly splashed water on your entire face.
You found your chair and sat down, folding your cane and tucking it back into your pocket. Your expression was still neutral, but there was a faint flush of embarrassment high on your cheeks.
Somin glanced at you and, without breaking her conversation with Jaewon about the publishing clause, reached over with a clean handkerchief and gently dabbed a spot on your face.
You held still for it, tilting your head slightly to give her better access, and the gesture was so familiar, so automatic, that it spoke louder than words about how long you'd been together.
Then she tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, gave your shoulder a quick pat, and returned to her laptop like nothing had happened.
Jaewon returned and sat down, glancing at you with renewed interest. "So that's her completely barefaced, then? No makeup at all?"
"None," Somin confirmed.
"Impressive."
"Impressive is one word. Exhausting is another. Do you know how many brands have reached out wanting her to be a face model? She turns them all down."
"Again, I don't like people touching my face," you repeated flatly.
"A true tragedy for the skincare industry." Jaewon said, amused.
You made a small sound that might have been a scoff.
James spoke for the first time, his voice quiet. "So you've never worn makeup. At all."
"Never."
"And you look like that." James' face turned into a smirk.
"I don't know what I look like," you said flatly.
"But from the way people react, I'm going to assume it's either very good or very alarming."
Keonho snorted, then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth.
Juhoon, smiling, said, "It's good. Very good. Just in case you were wondering."
"I wasn't. But thanks."
Seonghyeon, who'd been quiet since the coffee incident, muttered something under his breath that sounded like "unfair." James caught it and looked at Seonghyeon teasingly.
Jaewon clapped his hands together.
"Well. Now that we've established that she has a face and our group has apparently never seen one before—shall we move on to the music?"
Somin nodded and faced you, "Do you want to share your thoughts on the demos?"
You turned back toward the table. You didn't put the box back on—it was still sitting in front of you, slightly damp from the coffee cleanup—and your bare face made your next words somehow more jarring.
"They're not good."
Martin’s eyebrows twitched. "I'm sorry?"
"The demos. They're safe, polished, and competent." You delivered each word without inflection.
"And that's the problem. For a group that's supposed to be coloring outside the lines, you're coloring so far inside them you can't even see the edges anymore."
Martin straightened. "Can you be more specific?"
"Track one has a strong hook but the bridge collapses because whoever produced it got cold feet and defaulted to a standard resolution. Track two sounds like a TXT b-side from 2022 and not in an inspired way—in a copy-paste way. Track three has the most potential but the low end is a disaster. Whoever mixed it was either rushing or second-guessing every decision, and it shows."
The silence was suffocating. Seonghyeon's jaw tightened—track three was his.
You continued, oblivious or uncaring. "The vocal arrangements are competent but there's no risk anywhere. Everyone's singing in their safe range. No one's pushing. The production is clean but soulless. If you want to make an album that sounds like everything else on the market, we're done here. If you want to make something actually interesting, we have work to do."
Jaewon opened his mouth but Somin spoke first, her tone mild. "Take her criticism lightly, it’s just business."
"I assumed, they won’t take it personally. " Jaewon managed.
"It's absolutely personal," you corrected.
"They're making art. Art should be personal."
Martin surprised everyone by laughing—trying to ease up the tension. "You know what? Fair. You're not wrong." He looked at his members.
"We did play it safe. I've been thinking about it for weeks, I just didn't want to say it."
"You're the leader," you said. "It's your job to say it."
"I know." He met your unfocused gaze as steadily as if you could see him.
James tilted his head. "How long did you spend with the tracks? Before today."
"Six hours. Maybe seven."
Jaewon cleared his throat. "Well. I think we've established that this collaboration is going to push this group in exactly the way they need to be pushed. Ms. Somin, I'll have the revised contract ready by tomorrow. In the meantime—" He looked at the boys. "Why don't you give your producer a tour of the facilities? Show her Studio A, let her get a feel for the space."
Keonho shot up so fast his chair nearly tipped over. "I'll do it!"
"Keonho—"
"I mean—" He visibly collected himself. "We can all do it. Together. As a group. A professional group tour." He smiled brightly as he said it, voice full of enthusiasm.
You stood, reaching for your headpiece. But instead of putting it on, you just held it under your arm.
"Lead the way."
As the five of them shuffled toward the door, Martin fell into step beside you. "For the record," he said quietly, "I'm glad you're here. Even if you think our music is... what was the word?"
"Ass wasn't the word I used, but it's close enough."
He laughed again. "Right. Even if you think our music needs work. That's the whole point, isn't it? To make our music translate into art"
You turned your head toward his voice and, for the first time since the meeting started, a smile flickered across your face.
"Yeah, that’s the whole point."