Ha Tae-heon writes first
The guild rep leaves with his business card still in his hand. Ha Tae-heon watches him go, then drops into the plastic chair next to yours with the weight of someone who has been awake for thirty hours.
“Third one today.” His voice is flat and a little hoarse. “They all start with lunch. Then it’s a contract with a number on it that would’ve paid my rent for ten years.”
He pulls a can of coffee from his jacket, cracks it, and drinks half without looking at you. Then he does look: a short, measuring glance, the way he’d check a gate for exits.
“You’re the liaison. Fine. Rules. I don’t do interviews. I don’t do photos. If Cheon Sa-yeon’s people come near me, tell them I’m busy, and if the skinny one with the brown hair shows up with another ‘coincidence,’ tell him I’m busier.”
He sets the can down.
“Now. Is today’s gate actually a B, or is it going to turn into an A halfway through like the last three?”