Chapter Text
Jungkook
The hum of my alarm clock was the first sound I heard every morning, its shrill beeping a rude reminder that my dreams of becoming a renowned novelist were still just that—dreams. I groggily reached over to silence it, my hand smacking down on the snooze button before I reluctantly pushed myself out of bed. The tiny apartment I called home was a stark contrast to the grandiose worlds I created in my mind and scribbled into countless notebooks.
My morning routine was painfully ordinary. A quick shower to wake myself up, followed by a hasty breakfast of instant ramen or toast, depending on how much time I had left before needing to catch the subway. I always had my notepad with me, jotting down snippets of dialogue or plot ideas that popped into my head on my commute. The subway was a great place for people-watching, after all.
The office where I worked was a bustling hive of activity. I was a rookie writer for StarLife Magazine, a popular online publication known for its juicy gossip columns and celebrity scandals. It wasn’t the highbrow literature I aspired to write, but it paid the bills and gave me a foot in the door of the publishing world.
“Morning, Jungkook!” called out Jimin, one of my colleagues, as I stepped into the office.
“Morning, Jimin,” I replied with a smile, making my way to my desk. The cubicle farm was already buzzing with the sound of fingers tapping away at keyboards, phones ringing, and snippets of conversations about the latest celebrity gossip.
I sat down and booted up my computer, my mind already drifting to the manuscript I had been working on late into the night. It was a fantasy novel, my latest attempt to create something profound and moving. I had poured my heart into it, but deep down, I feared it would meet the same fate as my previous works—rejection.
“Hey, Jungkook,” came a familiar voice from behind me. I turned to see Namjoon, my boss, leaning against the partition of my cubicle. He was a tall, imposing figure with an air of authority, but his eyes held a kindness that belied his strict demeanor.
“Morning, Namjoon,” I said, forcing a smile. “What’s up?”
“Got a minute to talk?” he asked, motioning for me to follow him to his office.
I nodded, a sense of foreboding settling in my stomach. Namjoon’s office was a small, glass-walled room at the far end of the office. It was filled with bookshelves stacked with everything from classic literature to the latest bestsellers, a testament to his love of reading.
“Sit down,” he said, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. “How are you doing, Jungkook?”
“I’m good,” I replied, though my voice lacked conviction. “Just working on the next gossip piece for the site.”
Namjoon nodded, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve read your latest submissions. The gossip columns are good, as always. But I wanted to talk to you about your novel submissions.”
I swallowed hard, my heart sinking. This was the conversation I had been dreading.
“Look, Jungkook,” Namjoon began, choosing his words carefully. “You’re a talented writer. You have a knack for engaging the readers and making even the most mundane gossip interesting. But your novels… they’re lacking something.”
“Lacking what?” I asked, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “I’ve put everything into them.”
“I know you have,” Namjoon said gently. “But they lack depth and impact. The characters don’t feel real, and the stories don’t resonate on a deeper level. It’s like they’re missing that emotional punch.”
I looked down at my hands, feeling a familiar pang of disappointment. “So, what should I do? Give up?”
Namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying you need to find what you’re missing. Sometimes the things we aim for aren’t meant for us—not in the way we expect. There might be something out there for you, something you haven’t discovered yet.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. “So, keep writing gossip columns and hope for the best?”
“For now, yes,” Namjoon said. “But don’t stop working on your novels. Keep pushing yourself, keep learning, and don’t be afraid to take risks. You have potential, Jungkook. You just need to find your voice.”
As I left Namjoon’s office, his words echoed in my mind. Find my voice. It was easier said than done. I returned to my desk and stared at the blank screen in front of me, my thoughts a jumble of frustration and determination.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of writing and editing. I churned out another gossip piece about a popular idol’s rumored relationship, complete with sensationalist headlines and speculative commentary. It wasn’t fulfilling, but it was my job.
By the time I left the office, the sun had already set, casting long shadows over the city. I walked to the subway station, my mind drifting back to my unfinished manuscript. Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe I needed to dig deeper, to find that emotional core that my stories were missing.
As I rode the subway home, I pulled out my notepad and started jotting down new ideas, trying to tap into the emotions I usually kept locked away. I thought about my own life, my struggles, and my dreams. Maybe there was a story there, something real and raw that I hadn’t yet discovered.
I was deeply immersed in crafting another gossip article when my phone buzzed on the desk, interrupting my flow. The caller ID showed it was Namjoon. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the phone.
"Jungkook, can you come to my office?" Namjoon’s voice crackled through the receiver.
"On my way," I replied, saving my draft and heading towards Namjoon's office. I couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Namjoon's calls usually meant something significant.
As I walked into Namjoon's office, I noticed he had a contemplative look on his face.
"Take a seat, Jungkook," Namjoon said, motioning to the chair opposite his desk.
I sat down, trying to read Namjoon's expression. "What's up, boss?"
"Tell me, Jungkook, what do you know about Kim Taehyung?" Namjoon asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Kim Taehyung?" I echoed, taken aback. "The famous actor? He's huge not just in South Korea but globally. He's the first Korean actor to win an Oscar. It was for his role in 'The Mist,' a psychological thriller-horror film that came out last year."
Namjoon nodded, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Right. He's been in the spotlight a lot, especially after his recent divorce."
I leaned forward, intrigued. "If you need me to create a gossip article about him, it could be about that divorce. He and his ex-wife, were married for just two and a half years before deciding to separate."
Namjoon smiled, shaking his head. "Actually, I don’t need you to write a gossip article about him."
I blinked, confusion etching my features. "Then what do you need, boss?"
"I have a different job for you this time," Namjoon said, leaning forward. "Taehyung’s management reached out to our company. They want to release a memoir or an autobiography about him. They need a ghostwriter."
My eyes widened in surprise. "A ghostwriter? For Kim Taehyung?"
"Yes," Namjoon confirmed. "They specifically asked for someone who can bring depth and a personal touch to his story. Given your aspirations and talent, I thought you might be interested."
My mind raced. This was a huge opportunity, unlike anything I had done before. "Are you serious? I mean, I’m definitely interested, but why me?"
Namjoon leaned back, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "I know you've been struggling to get your novels published, and I believe this could be a great opportunity for you to stretch your wings. The pay is good, and it’s a chance to do something different from your daily grind. Plus, it will give you valuable experience and exposure."
I felt a surge of excitement mixed with nerves. "I'll take the job, Namjoon. Absolutely."
Namjoon smiled, pleased with my enthusiasm. "Great. I’ll set up a meeting with Taehyung’s management so you can get started. This could be the break you’ve been waiting for, Jungkook."
As I left Namjoon's office, my mind buzzed with possibilities. The thought of working closely with Kim Taehyung, getting to know the man behind the fame, and helping to tell his story filled me with a sense of purpose and anticipation. This was a chance to prove myself, to finally make my mark in the literary world.
Returning to my desk, I couldn't focus on my gossip article anymore. My thoughts were consumed by the upcoming project. This was more than just a job; it was an opportunity to bring my creativity to life in a way I had always dreamed of.
