Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
HURRICANES - RIA SAWAYAMA
Steam rose in the air of the busy marketplace, filling the little space that remained between the noise, the bright lights, the colorful signage, and the market stalls that had been wedged and stuffed into every possible corner of the market.
There were advertisements everywhere, from hotteok to yukhoe, from kimchi boggeumbap to pajeon of all kinds.
Teddy and Lia squeezed next to each other on a slim bench in front of one of the stalls and examined the laminated menu.
Between the siblings’ terribly inadequate Korean and the helpful photos, they managed to order kalguksu, seafood pancake, suyuk to share, and soondae.
They were hungry, obviously. It was one of those rare afternoons where Teddy didn’t need to be in the studio, which was happening more often now that Soobin’s drama was starting their pre-production meetings, Siwan was guest judging for a cooking show, and Cal was…
well, Cal was just as busy as ever. Lia never really got to speak to him, especially after his conversation with (who she eventually gleaned was) Seo Minji, the morning they broke up.
Well, not broke up, just…stopped having sex. Which wasn’t the same.
So, yeah. Lunch at Gwangjang market. Lia remembered that Cafe Onion also had a branch here, somewhere near the Chonggyecheon stream, and made a mental note to go there after this.
It didn’t even hurt that much to remember him talking about it, how he loved the concept, how it would be nice at sunset.
Anyway.
“I’m surprised you got away from the studio today,” Lia said, handing her brother a pair of chopsticks that she’d wiped down with tissue paper.
“I haven’t been working that much.”
“I can hear your laptop fan whirring at 2am. That poor machine was begging for its life,” Lia said dryly, waiting for Teddy to outstretch his cupped hands to her so she could dispense hand sanitizer.
“I’m surprised you could hear from Cal’s room.”
“Hey,” she snapped, tossing her sanitizer back in her bag.
“I never slept in his bedroom. And he always left, after. We didn’t…
it wasn’t that kind of relationship. In fact, we apparently have absolutely no relationship, at all, thanks to me.
So yeah. I could hear your laptop loud and clear because I couldn’t sleep anyway. ”
If her brother looked genuinely surprised, then she let him sit with it. She knew this was one of those conversations where they could snipe at each other all they wanted, skirt around issues all day until one of them cracked (or Frankie made them talk). Neither of them said anything for a while.
“I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” Lia finally said with a huff. “Just tell me if you need something. Alaxan, ibuprofen, melatonin. I have a magnesium spray that helps you fall asleep faster.”
“What happened?” Teddy asked, his voice gentle, much more than she had anticipated.
It was such a simple question. Two words that encompass so much.
But apparently, it was everything Lia needed to hear, because she told him everything.
Her breath caught in her throat at every sentence, and tears threatened to fall.
But she held it back, held it in, and just started to talk.
What he’d asked, why she’d said no. How she felt, and how much it hurt.
How in the end, she’d been the one to tell him no, and make the healthier, smarter choice.
“Yun. So we’re done. I don’t sleep, and…yeah.”
“But you’re not happy.”
“Doesn’t being healthy come with a little bit of suffering or whatever?” She tried to deflect by oohing and ahhing over the food that arrived, but Teddy wasn’t having it.
“But you like him.”
“Worse, Teddy. I think I love him,” she said, and her shoulders slumped just thinking about it.
“But I could never, ever ask him to give up his dream to stay in Manila with me. And I don’t want to give up what I have in Manila either.
Not when it sounds like Damask wants them.
Not when he recorded this album that he clearly loves.
Maybe I am still scared of rejection, but I can’t let him not do this. ”
“Oh,” Teddy said, chewing thoughtfully on his tteokbokki. “Okay.”
“That’s all?” Oh that was despair in her voice. She did not like that. “Teddy, I’m miserable.”
“Yeah. And it sounds like you know exactly what you need to do to be un-miserable.”
“But—”
“But what?” Teddy asked, slurping at his kalguksu. “You’ve thought about this, clearly. And you made a decision. I’m not going to talk you out of it. And anyway, you don’t want to date a celebrity. I’ve seen Mon and Olivia, it’s messy. Cal might not be able to give you what you need.”
“And how do you know what I need?” Lia arched a brow at him as she stabbed her chopsticks into the pajeon.
“You need someone who is crazy about you,” He announced. “Someone who can make you feel good. Someone who will always make you feel like you matter—because you do. And when you forget, they can remind you, when you can’t remind yourself.”
Lia’s mouth hung slightly open at her brother’s words, unable to form words for all her shock.
For all her choices, all her mistakes, Teddy was never the sibling to tell her to see things a certain way, to tell her she was right or wrong.
He was quietly supportive. Lia had always presumed her brother was always neutral about the things she went through.
Supportive, but didn’t think much about it after.
How wrong she was, to think he didn’t think about her.
“The album’s going to be a hit,” he said, sure as Lia had been when she told Cal the same thing.
“And people will only want more from the band, from Cal. I’m not saying this to discourage you, Ate.
You’re allowed to feel the way you do. I’m glad you guys found each other.
But realistically, you’re right. You don’t want to be with Cal. ”
“But…” Lia said. “He is crazy about me.”
“I guess.” Teddy shrugged unconvincingly, and Lia seethed. What was her brother saying?
“He…he remembers my coffee order, but still asks what I want. He keeps coming up with places he wants me to see, even if it kills him that he can’t come with me.
And he never, ever makes it feel like it was hard for him to do all of those things.
He doesn’t mind that I have a spray bottle for everything, that I like to fold my bedsheets a particular way.
He wrote an entire album for me, how can you even say that he isn’t crazy about me?
” she asked, completely confused. “Hoy, whose side are you on ba?”
“Yours, duh,” Teddy said it like it was the most obvious thing ever. “I just wanted to help you work through your feelings. Do you love him?”
“Yes!” Oh. Oh wow. She hadn’t been that certain about anything in a while. And she knew that for all the reasons why it wouldn’t work, or didn’t, she had feelings for him. She wanted to be with him, whatever that meant. “I love him.”
“Good.” Teddy nodded. “Bagay naman kayo.”
“What do you think the chances are that BINJ is going to keep CoBOLT?” Lia asked.
“Honestly?” Teddy asked. Then he dropped his voice, presumably out of respect for their host. “Low. They let Cal bring me in because most of their producers went to their KPop boy group—Triple Z? Those guys apparently are doing great at making two-minute, Insta viral songs, and they need more producers to keep that machine going. BINJ just let go of the rights for one of their first-gen artists, and those guys were the first to make the company money. They’re spending almost nothing on this release, and they’re testing how far it goes on just Cal, Siwan and Soobin’s clout.
Even if they offered a renewal, they would only take it to preserve the band’s existence. ”
That sounded just about right. And god, where would Cal be if he didn’t have the band? If all his big dreams were taken away?
“Damask Entertainment is meeting with Cal,” Teddy told her. “He’s bailing on recording today to meet Minji and their CEO. It’s actually why I have the afternoon off.”
Lia inhaled sharply. This was it. She knew Damask, knew the way they worked. They were the kind of third-wave agency that actually wanted to develop artists’ crafts, famously letting them have a say in direction, in music creation. It was what made their group KST a worldwide phenomenon.
“Mon talked to me, by the way. He said that you didn’t say yes to the job offer right away.” Teddy said. “Is it me?”
“Funny.”
“I’m serious, Ate.” Teddy didn’t even look up from where he was making himself a little suyuk wrap.
“If I’m the reason why you’re hesitating on the job offer from Tryptich, tell me.
Mon and I have actually been talking about it for a while.
You can tell a lot about a person based on who they’re fans of.
” Teddy continued, giving his sister a soondae.
“And we always want to hire fans of things that we like too. Even if they keep it a secret for ten years.”
“Wow.” Lia pretended to be offended by the statement, even if she was trying to unpeel all the layers of what her brother was saying. If he was serious about this. “Just for that, no more cucumber banchan for you.”
“Hey!”
“Are you really offering me a job?” she asked, picking up some of the cucumber banchan just out of her brother’s reach. “Or do you just feel sorry for me?”
Teddy made an unimpressed noise. “Please lang, Ate. You’re not kawawa.”
True. She wasn’t. “You talked to Mon,” Lia said.
“Of course I did. Imagine having that call with him, of him asking me if we offered my sister enough money, because she didn’t have an answer when he offered her a great job. He’s really impressed with your work, Ate. He told you about our plans for Triptych, right?”
She did. She found out on the same day Minji had called Cal, the same day Lia and Cal decided they were better off as friends…or worse. Not exes. “You’re expanding into artist management, which is amazing. I didn’t know it was on the pipeline for you.”
“Not originally.” Teddy agreed. “But there are a lot of great artists in this country who just need decent management to promote themselves, and to not get screwed over, and we wanted to support that. Yabang lang eh.”
“Better you than someone they don’t trust.”
“True. Anyway, the artist management side is happening. And we really can use someone who is a fan to make sure the fans are happy.” Teddy pointed out.
“I'm told the official title is Campaign Manager, but think of it more as Band Strategy. We want everything. Promotion schedules, comeback ideas, events, streams. All of it.”
In the back of Lia’s mind, she wished she could talk to Cal about this. She wished he could hear it, so she wouldn’t have to explain herself or filter anything out. But since when had she needed them for these kinds of conversations?
“You’re offering me a job as a professional fangirl.”
“Fanperson.”
“Fangirl is not pejorative.” She picked up his previously offered soondae.
“I’m being inclusive.”
“Why me?”
“Because why not you?” Teddy asked, resuming his coffee drinking. “I’ve been listening to you analyze this band, this comeback, since we landed. I see how passionate you are when you really like something. So why the fuck not you?”
Lia’s shoulders dropped. She wanted to argue that her passion was just her saying a lot of shit, and maybe was just talking out of her ass.
But even as she tried to come up with those reasons, a little voice in her head reminded her of all the people in her job who talked out of their asses too, except their asses had zero knowledge to back it up. God, why did actual impostors never have the syndrome they were named for? Just audacity?
And why the hell would she not say yes to this job?
Because saying this would mean that life was going to go on, that there was something for her to move on to.
Lia didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she also knew that it was silly.
Time was going to pass regardless, but it was good to know she had something to look forward to.
This was it, this was the thing she’d hoped for and considered.
The person Cal Ahn had brought back to life was setting herself up for happiness, and Lia was really looking forward to it.
“Is that why Mon kept talking about this case I supposedly made? About ideas to rebrand CoBOLT?”
“Yeahhh, that was because Cal was joking that he wanted Triptych to sign CoBOLT, and he and I started to talk about all the things you’ve said about them rebranding.” Teddy said. “Which makes me think that he was more trying to flex that you had all these great ideas, than anything else.”
Her brother’s words were said in jest, clearly, but Lia hated that they made hope flutter in her chest, only for her to quickly tamp it down. “Is that even possible, legally? For you to sign them.”
“No idea. But I really enjoyed working with them.” Teddy shrugged.
She flinched at him, already speaking about the band in the past tense, as if they weren’t already more than halfway through their trip, as if Teddy was going to run out of things to do in Korea.
As if they both didn’t have lives and people and inaanaks waiting for them at home.
Lia set her chopsticks down, already too full to keep eating. She shuddered as a sharp, fierce cold whipped through her body. The weather was turning colder now. Even the trees were barer than they were orange. Things were going to have to move forward.
“I want the job,” Lia told him. “I know what it feels like, to be that fan that’s loved by their artist. Mostly because it makes me like myself, too. So let’s do this.”
Teddy held out a hand to her. Lia shook him on it, and the agreement was made.