Fighter's Lines (RapMon Fanfic)

Back To The Roots

I stood in front of the building, instructions in one hand and a duffel bag in the other. BigHit Entertainment written in big blocked Korean lettering hung above the entrance, almost like it was beckoning for people to just come on in if they dared.

Sighing, I looked down at the hand I was using to hold the piece of paper. A black compression sleeve covered up my wrist and hand, showing only my five fingers. The doctor had told me not to put any strain on in as it hadn't healed completely yet after the last fight I had. I frowned in disdain as I began ascending the stairs leading up to the main entrance of the building. What I'd rather be doing than instructing a bunch of trainees looking to break into the entertainment industry.

Like my father had said, it was a dangerous industry to be in.

The insides were immaculate, modern and sleek, but I didn't really care. All I wanted to do was get my four-month, part-time work over with so I could go home. I didn't really understand why my coach had asked me to agree to this job offer. He'd insisted that it was to keep me well in shape and not slack off from my injury. And he wasn't hearing any of my protests about doing workouts that wouldn't affect my injury either.

Something about it being good for the soul as well, or something like that. Whatever the hell that meant. Sure he was my coach and former 'God' of the fighting arena. But he was well over 40 and I personally thought that he was going senile.

I didn't know which traitorous soul had told him that I'd used to do dance. I was currently 22 years old and it had been a long 4 years since the last time I'd stepped onto the dance floor. But when I do find out, I'm going to make that person dance until they collapse. Dancing was the last thing my father would have wanted me to do.

I plopped myself in a plush seat, placing my bag beside me and glancing at my watch on my uninjured left wrist. I was right on time, 9 o'clock sharp. The long, skinny hand of the watch ticked as the seconds flew by. Actually, I realized, I was about three minutes early. Huh. Maybe I should've stalled a little bit before arriving. A snack sounded just about right at the moment.

Sighing, I slipped my phone out of the pocket of my black dress jacket and smoothed out the simple band t-shirt I had on underneath. I swiftly shot off a quick text the best I could with my one uninjured hand to my coach to let him know that I'd arrived and not run off to join the circus.

Slipping the sleek model into the left pocket of my ripped dark-washed jeans, I crossed a leg over the other, dangling my light grey pumps from the tips of my toes. I had honestly silently debated on taking the damn jacket off. But then I decided that it was the only thing making me look the least bit professional and sophisticated. Aside from the heels of course.

"Miss Kai Lee!" I heard a voice from behind me, making me pause in my near yawn, and turn to the direction of the person. It was a tall, lithe woman in a nice cornflower blue button up and grey pencil skirt, stylish white pumps, with her hair thrown in some gorgeous ponytail I could only hope to one day achieve. She looked so much more professional in her simple outfit than I did.

"Miss Kai Lee, the boss asked me to lead you to his office before you officially start your first day here. I'm his assistant, Mi Ji En," she immediately blurted out as she approached me. "He'd like to brief you on your classes and the trainees you'll be working with. It's really a pleasure to have you here," she added as she threw in a beaming smile that had straighter teeth than any toothpaste commercial. And an assistant? Why the hell wasn't she an actress yet? Or a model?

"Lead the way," I nodded as I got up, slinging my duffel bag over my shoulder, noticing that when I stood up, I was actually taller than her, despite the fact that our heels more or less matched in their height. I sighed. It was rather tiring to have to tower over people again. Back overseas, I'd actually relished in the feeling of having people tower over me instead.

"Oh, wow.You're so much taller in person," she said as her eyes widened slightly more than a fraction. "Oh! W-What I mean is-"

"It's fine," I said as I waved her off. "It's not always a good thing. Hard to find guys who are actually decently taller than you," I chuckled as I shook my head.

She laughed and nodded. "I think I can relate to some of it."

.       .       .

I released the bun I'd been keeping my multicoloured hair in as Ji En led me around the place, showing me my classes and where everything was situated. The place was rather hectic, in my opinion. There were, more or less, quite a lot of people scrambling and rushing around. Most of them trainees, I'd presumed.

Bang Si-Hyuk, or I'd often called him Hyuk Hyuk when I was younger, had explained all that I had to do there. Dance instructor for the trainees. Keep them in shape with my classes. Build up their stamina with routines. And the rest was pretty much self-explanatory. He'd also given me a choice to teach language, if the dancing wasn't doing it for me. But I'd been skeptical, not wanting to give myself any grey hairs if it turned out that I had zero patience to teach the English language, since English was the universal language of the entire planet. But he'd then said that I would only be teaching the ones that either a) are already in a group and had already debuted or b) are already in a group and are planning on debuting or c) any promising trainee that they feel are going to succeed whether they went in a group or solo.

I told him that I was going to agree to doing one class first, to test out the waters before I jumped in and accidentally age myself 10 years.

It was currently a quarter to 11, and my first class began at 11 a.m in classroom 439. I was currently walking along the hallway to the second last room on that floor, room 439. I was to take over for one of the dance instructors that had to stay home on a sick leave. For the time being, I was to do dance classes only until Hyuk Hyuk had properly arranged my schedule, adding the additional language class I was going to be teaching.

Reading my schedule for the day that he'd given me, I had classes at 11 a.m, 2.45 p.m, and 5.10 pm. All of them hour and a half long dance classes. All of them trainee groups. Since the two groups they had, Homme and BTS, were busy on their respective schedules doing whatever the hell they were doing.

If I were to teach any of those groups English, I'd rather Homme, since there are only two guys in it rather than the hectic seven I've heard so much about from around. But Homme has also been around for quite a while, both artists being in the business for quite a long time if you added their years in their former respective groups. So in all honesty, I wouldn't bet on being able to get them.

Upon reaching my classroom, I looked down at my own attire, then peeked through the small window on the door that revealed the insides of the room, I sighed again.

Most of the trainees were wearing simple attire of t-shirts or sweaters or leggings or whatever. But I had the bright idea of wearing a mid-riff baring sweater and ripped leggings, having no idea whatsoever if it was considered okay, or overdressed.

Maybe I should've read up on the fashion trends of the country I haven't been in in years, or even called up Hyuk Hyuk to give me a heads up to get my head out of Europe.