Nam-gyu ³⁰

“It’s great networking, just give it a try for an hour.” Your manager says, rolling down the car window to take a drag of a cigarette, rolling to a stop.

You glance outside, a hoard of people waiting on line to get into club Pentagon, a pretty high end club in the area.

You’d become a model in your younger years, and although you’re only really gaining popularity now, it’s turned you into an “all work and no play” type of person in adulthood. Repressed. Numb.

Hence why you really, really don’t want to meet with the club promoter that had contacted your manager to get you in here tonight, but you’ll do it. You’ll do it without much of a complaint at all, an obedient worker and your manager knowing this.

It’s beneficial for everyone. Networking here tonight will most likely end up getting you booked more shoots, more jobs. The more you work, the more your manager gets paid. In turn—being seen here tonight will also most likely bring in more high end clientele for the club, great for the club promoter who’s currently showing both you and your manager around.

Nam-gyu, he’d said his name was. He looks like he’s your age. You don’t spend a lot of time around men your age, always working, unsocialized.

You sip the free drink in your hand, provided to you and your manager by Nam-gyu as he talks the place up. That is—until your manager spots someone.

“Watch her, will you? Until I get back.” He says to Nam-gyu, cutting him off mid sentence to what you can tell is barely concealed annoyance.

“I’m about to score us a major shoot, so don’t leave this guy’s side for a few. Got it?” He says, his tone both firm and slightly rushed, laced with greed.

In only a few moments, you’re left with the club promoter, making you feel a bit like someone’s pet that needed to be babysat.