Idol Pursuits, page 25
From there, the mystery only deepened. Following Dream Delight’s documentary, the group took starting positions near the back of the stage. However, the six members left their marks once the music track started and silently walked to the center. In a repeat of Glimmer Blue’s action, they jointly unfurled a sign. This one read #standwithheather.
Suddenly, all became clear.
“Oh, my,” said Hyo-sonn, back at the Moon residence.
“Is this about our daughter?” asked Ji-woo.
The network once again quickly cut away from the program. This time, a message read, “We’re experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by.”
“So that’s what they’re up to,” said Dae-hee, deeply impressed. “They’ve just declared war.”
23
ARROWS PIERCE THE SUN
The studio was in bedlam.
Grace was as much in shock as everyone else. The live audience demanded an explanation. Executives from 37-G were berating Glimmer Blue for throwing away the competition on what they called “a cheap stunt.” Mi-ok stood resolute in the face of withering criticism, weathering the storm for her groupmates who sheltered behind their fearless leader. Everyone else was busy discussing the protest, asking questions, looking up hashtags, and reading a never-ending torrent of social media comments. Grace snuck as close as possible to listen in without drawing an inordinate amount of attention. Frankly, in the chaos, that was easy to do.
“Nowhere in our contract does it say we have to perform,” said Mi-ok. “We’re only required to appear, which we did. If you have a problem with that, hire better lawyers next time.” With so much going on simultaneously and their attention drawn in multiple directions, the 37-G executives gave up on Glimmer Blue to put out fires elsewhere. When it was clear that the initial assault had subsided, the protesting group noticeably relaxed. That’s when Grace heard Mi-ok utter words intended only for her member’s ears. “Heather, we have avenged you.”
When the producers hastened Dream Delight onto the stage to salvage the program, they could hardly have predicted what would happen next. The youngsters had brazenly repeated Glimmer Blue’s feat. It had become clear that a full-scale rebellion was brewing.
“Did you know about this?” asked Grace.
Heather shook her head, appearing genuinely stunned into silence. Pleasantly stunned but stunned nonetheless.
The hashtags shown on air were now buzzing with activity. Most were related to Heather and her lawsuit. Still, conversations extended to entertainment industry harassment in general, both in Korea and around the world.
Producers demanded the seizure of all phones belonging to idols to prevent further escalation. Fortunately, the enterprising organizers behind the movement had planned ahead. The idols’ accounts continued to stoke online dialogue remotely. Assistance was evidently coming from beyond the studio.
As the uproar continued, it seemed to Grace that the entire country was now tuning in to watch the remarkable series of events. News organizations were even offering live coverage from outside the network building. The show’s producers resorted to airing highlights from previous episodes as they tried to coax the next group, Silk Summoning, to stick to the script. The three experienced members asserted that they were not involved in the protest and intended to perform their stage as rehearsed. Convinced of their sincerity, they were allowed on stage only after being searched for hidden contraband.
The producers’ due diligence was wasted. On cue, the group followed their predecessors in silent protest, improvising the spelling of Me Too using interlocked fingers. They, also, were abruptly taken off the air.
Grace had never seen anyone so angry as Silk Summoning’s manager. His face turned pomegranate red, and he looked ready to combust. The girls in that group ignored him as if he weren’t there.
The pealing of ringtones continued unabated. Few phones were answered. Mint Nitty was up next. Grace watched the evolving trainwreck derail entirely when the veteran group simply refused to go on stage. The exasperated host floundered on camera with improvised and inconsistent explanations for events transpiring in plain view. When Mint Nitty’s documentary finished, the stage remained empty. Producers were growing increasingly desperate as they ran out of filler material to air. During the subsequent break, commercials repeated multiple times. This was followed by a black screen for one minute, then a repeat airing of the introduction to episode one.
One final group remained, 2NT. Amidst the cacophony of heated conversations swirling around her, Grace focused on Lina, the quartet’s leader. The head of their agency was screaming in her face, threatening to replace the entire group should they violate the terms of their contract. Lina stood as if frozen. Any resolve she might have possessed seemed to waver. Eventually, after briefly consulting with her members, she declared loudly that they had too much to lose by joining the protest. “We entered the finals in second place. Besides, I think all relevant points have been made by now.”
While this declaration pacified the authorities, it only riled their peers. The few idols who had managed to avoid being ushered into dressing rooms, including Grace and Mi-ok, gave 2NT the evil eye for betraying solidarity. Lina looked sheepish but avoided eye contact while waiting for their documentary to conclude.
Producers held their breath as the music played. They exhaled deeply when the singing started. The studio audience roared their approval at finally receiving another performance.
But alas, it was not to be. Lacking any signs to hold up, Lina dropped the song mid-verse and covered her mouth with one hand instead when it was her turn to sing. The others in the group soon followed suit.
This final show of defiance marked the complete demolition of Dominion. The network, anxious to limit its damage, aired previews of upcoming attractions for the next quarter hour as they fitfully decided how to proceed.
* * *
By order of the production staff, all six groups were sequestered in their dressing rooms until further notice. Water and refreshments were delivered, but seized phones were not returned. The only news source came from a built-in television in their dressing room. Heather, ironically, remained the calmest of the seven members. Without saying a word, she simply sat on the couch, watching whatever was currently on the screen as Grace flipped through channel after channel, chasing one news report after the other. Occasionally, she’d return to Dominion to confirm whether the filler content was still airing. Mindy suggested other networks to switch to, but Grace rarely followed through, preferring a random sampling instead. Erin calmed herself by sampling the fruit tray. Vanessa, June, and Sun-hee paced nervously.
“So you’re telling me you knew nothing about this?” asked Grace without looking away from the TV.
“I swear, I’m just as confused as everyone else,” responded Heather.
“It was Mi-ok’s doing,” said Vanessa.
This comment momentarily pulled Grace’s attention away from the TV. “Okay, spill it. Did you have a hand in this?”
Vanessa looked at Sun-hee for a reaction, “I mean, we might have planted a seed.”
“A seed? More like a live oak from the looks of it.”
“We didn’t think she’d actually do anything, let alone carry it this far,” said Sun-hee.
“What on earth did you say?”
There was a knock on the door before Grace could get an answer out of them. It opened without invitation.
“Ms. Moon?” The inquirer was a giant of a man who towered above Grace. The seriousness of his demeanor suggested he meant business. Grace shook her head, then acknowledged Heather, who stood from the couch and approached.
The man wore a business suit, his stiff visage being the lone unmoving figure in an otherwise chaotic hallway. Heather didn’t recognize him from the crew. Still, the all-access pass clipped to his lanyard indicated the highest level of security clearance.
“Yes?”
“Your parents are here to see you.”
Heather found this news alarming. They’d never have come unless it was critically important. “Is something wrong? If we only had our phones —”
“It’s urgently important that you come immediately,” he said tersely.
Heather looked back at her groupmates with visible concern. Tossing the blanket she used as a leg covering onto a nearby chair, she left without saying another word.
As the pair walked down the hallway, she asked impatiently, “Couldn’t they have come to our room?”
“The studio is on lockdown. Security clearance takes time. This is the best way.”
“Is there an emergency? Where are we going?”
He didn’t respond to either question.
She followed him to the elevator. To her surprise, the man used a key to unlock the elevator panel. Instead of selecting the down button for the ground floor, he chose the top floor. They were going to the penthouse.
Heather studied his face as they rode. He remained expressionless and unmoving. Whatever caused her parents to demand her attention at this crucial moment didn’t seem to faze him. This awareness put her momentarily at ease.
The bell rang, and the doors opened. Heather stepped through the portal and listened to them close behind her. She waited a few seconds for the man to lead but discovered, to her dismay, that she was alone.
In shock, she watched as the lights above the lift indicated a descent. The conveyor failed to respond to all recall attempts. Desperate, she moved to the stairwell door and tested it. It too was firmly locked.
She was trapped!
24
DOWNFALL
Heather assessed her surroundings. She stood in a long, glass-lined corridor, taking deep, long breaths to calm herself. Rooms on either side remained dark. The passage was intermittently lit, with fixtures set to after-hours mode. Ornate double doors of a large boardroom were propped open at the opposite end of the hallway from where she stood. Heather discerned a series of broad windows overlooking the city through the opening. The overhead lights remained off in that room, too, but the erratic glow of television screens partially illuminated the space. She could hear the familiar Dominion theme song playing and recognized the host’s voice.
Curiosity compelled her to investigate. Heather could make out seven TV screens as she approached the room’s threshold. All were tuned to the Dominion broadcast. Their collective luminance was insufficient to unveil the entire space. Judging from the size of the windows overlooking the city, the enormous chamber was meant to impress.
“Hello?” she called out to an echoing response. The entire floor appeared empty.
She stepped inside the boardroom and moved to the most prominent of the TV displays, watching curiously as the six idol groups assembled on stage. The show had resumed its live broadcast. They’re starting without me! But a more pressing mystery remained. Where are my parents?
“Well played, Heather. I didn’t think you had it in you.” The sound of his voice sent a chill up her spine. Once again, memories from that devastatingly traumatizing dinner flashed in her mind.
Mr. Lee is in this room!
With me!
Alone!
Heather turned to face the source of the voice. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the dimly lit environment, she could barely make out a figure seated at the far end of the boardroom table. He leaned forward to a nearby panel and flicked a button. A tiny lamp lit his immediate surroundings. Only Mr. Lee’s lower jaw and torso were clearly visible, though. The rest of his body remained shrouded in shadow. He sipped calmly from a stemmed and balloon-sided cognac glass.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“As the owner of this property, perhaps I should be asking you that question.” Mr. Lee pushed a second button. The broadcast audio was muted, though images of Dominion continued to play on the screens.
“Since you lied about my parents, I’d like to return to the studio now.”
“Relax. Your little friends can take it from here. Besides, Yo-han has doubtlessly ensured our privacy by now. It’s just you and me.”
She considered running out of the room and calling for help but doubted anyone would hear. Instead, she breathed deeply, hoping to stay calm and focused. “I can’t adequately describe how little pleasure it brings me to hear that.”
“Sit down.” He waved his hand broadly, inviting Heather to take any of the forty-or-so chairs that lined the table. “You have much more important considerations to attend to now.”
“Whatever you’re planning, I’m not interested. Haven’t I been clear? I want nothing to do with you.” Lacking better options, however, she sat at the far opposite end of the table from Mr. Lee, a ludicrously long distance away.
“Don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d be content to grovel after a second-rate idol. You’re no better than the others. Easily disposable confections, all of you.”
Heather gripped the end of her armrest tightly. She understood the importance of remaining calm in situations like this. Once riled, she could slip, and that could lead to disaster. “Why did you lure me here?”
“Before I answer that, tell me something. How did you flip Mi-ok? I can’t say I saw that coming.”
“I had nothing to do with this,” she said, pointing to the screens.
“Go ahead. Play the innocent victim. That seems to be the go-to strategy for your kind.”
“Not everyone is duplicitous, you know?”
“The girl who cleans floors at night might be able to claim that with conviction. Anyone with ambition, though, can’t survive long in this world without a little subterfuge.”
Heather hesitated to speak her mind but eventually threw all caution to the wind. “I can only imagine the heinous things people like you do to obtain money and power. You delude yourself into thinking you are model citizens. After decades of criminality, you actually believe your own hype.”
Mr. Lee tipped the glass for another sip, evidently enjoying it immensely. “Shame you won’t join me. Armagnac is a lovely spirit.”
“I’ve had my fill of your hospitality, thanks.”
“Beside the point,” he said, waving away her comment. “No, I have a proposal. That’s why you’re here. I tire of this game and wish to end it.” The lamp illuminated his full face briefly as he leaned forward to press another button. A buzzing sound emanated from down the corridor, followed seconds later by footsteps. Heather cringed at what awaited.
A middle-aged woman approached carrying a sturdy folder. Wordlessly, she placed it on the table in front of Heather. It took just one glimpse to recognize her. The ashen-haired woman was Mr. Lee’s accomplice at his mansion the night of the incident. It took every ounce of restraint to avoid slugging the lady. Mr. Lee waited until the pen was set before speaking.
“Open it.”
The woman lit a nearby lamp as Heather complied. The stiff leather-bound folder contained a multi-page legal document. Skimming it briefly, she determined it to be an agreement.
“Why on earth would I ever sign this?”
“I nearly fired my lawyers for preparing it in the first place, but circumstances have since changed my mind.” Mr. Lee opened a similar folder at his end of the table and began writing. The distance was too great to determine what he was doing, but she didn’t have to wait long to find out. A moment later, he put the pen down, tore the document from its binding, and nonchalantly held it high between two fingers for the ashen-haired woman to retrieve. She promptly delivered it to Heather’s end of the table.
“That’ll be all, Yun.” With those words, the woman promptly left the two alone.
“What is this?” Without waiting for a response, she saw what appeared to be a personal check made out in her name. The dollar amount was unbelievable. She had to read it twice to confirm. $23 million! “Why?”
“We’ve reached a stalemate, you and I. Surely, you’ve considered the possibility that moving ahead with this dramatic stunt of yours would destroy us both? Do you really want that? Or would you rather cast this farce aside once and for all to our mutual benefit?”
“So this is hush money?”
“Call it what you will. A sensible person would consider her next move carefully.” Heather returned to reading the contract. As she did so, Mr. Lee narrated. “In return for your eternal silence, you get a guaranteed payout. Instead of relying on the whimsy of the courts, you avoid a messy, emotionally risky process, facing shame, loss of privacy, and every lurid detail of your sexual history laid bare for all to see. I could go on, but you already catch my drift.”
A flashing peripheral brightness drew her attention back to the TV screens. An animated graphic announced that Made in Heaven had just won Dominion. Heather watched longingly as her groupmates joined in a circle and hugged each other with tears in their eyes, scarcely believing what had just happened. Confetti fell around them. The host attempted to present the trophy, but the girls wouldn’t break their interlocked arms for anything. Heather desperately wanted to unmute the audio.
“See. You won the battle. Everyone can go home happy. Shall we call a truce?”
Heather’s gaze gravitated between the check and the television. “Is money all you care about?”
“No.” Mr. Lee smiled smugly, taking another sip from his glass. “No, dear Heather. Despite what you people think, there’s much more to it than that.”
“What then?”
“After a certain point, once someone like me has made more than they could ever spend in their lifetime, it all becomes a game.”
“A game?” she asked incredulously.
“To see how much more you can acquire. To push the limits.”
“So you’re willing to ruin people’s lives just to play silly games? This business may be just another way to make money for you, but to the rest of us here, this is life.”
“Spoken like a true little person.”
“You keep using that term.”
“Yes. Because it is we, those of us who play this game the best — the VIPs, as they call us — We are the ones who decide the fate of the world. Nothing happens without our blessing. We wrote the rules, after all. You simply follow or get out of the way. If you know what’s good for you, that is.”
