that one stained shirt | mark lee

mission impossible

Sunday passed without a successful solution.

The night leading to Monday was a horrible one, my brain wouldn't shut up and all I could do was watch the sky and its changing hues. At two, when a storm started, I gave up and made myself a cup of hot cocoa only to sit by the living room window and study the drops falling onto it.

I still didn't know how to approach Mark. And how to find him in the first place.

The company building seemed huge, with stories and stories of rooms. I tried to find articles about its floor plans, but they remained a mystery. He could be anywhere. The least I knew were his schedules because those were available on Twitter. Thus, he should be working. But was it possible for me to look through every little nook? Absolutely not. Plus, I was sure they wouldn't a random girl just wander around.

So, when I got there a few hours later, totally exhausted and grumpy, the first thing that came to my mind was to just ask about him. Maybe it would work out, who knew?

I marched into the hallway, heading straight to the reception counter. A young woman, merely older than me, sat there, typing on a computer. Once our gazes met, she smiled and stood up. "Hello, how can I help you?" she asked in a sweet tone, and I had to suppress a mean comment. It's still too early for this.

Instead, I faked a smile and put a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Hi, may I ask where I'd find Mark Lee?"

"Mark Lee?" she repeated, and I nodded. Her face twisted in a mix of uncertainty and nervousness. "I don't think you can see him."

"Are you sure?" I tried and stepped a bit closer. "I'm sure he knows I'm coming."

"Your name then, please?"

"Jessica Suh." Did I care about my identity? Not at the moment.

"Oh," she paused for a second, scanning my face with her dark eyes. I didn't know what to make of it. Was there something on my face? "My bad, Miss Suh, it could have come to me that you're a family member. Please, forgive me. Mr. Lee is in practice room number thirteen. Eighth floor, second door on the left. There should be music hearable."

I stood there, eyes wide. So many questions were flying through my head. Family member? Of whom? And did it just work?

"Thank you," I managed, bowing, and walked to the closest elevator. Her eyes followed me until its door closed.

It took me a second to push the button. All I could do was replay the scene in front of my eyes, trying to figure out who the hell she had been talking about. In all I knew, I didn't have a family member in the idol industry. None of us had contacts with any, either. She must have mistaken me, I thought. Maybe there's someone with a similar name.

When the bell chimed, I exited the elevator and followed the said instructions. The girl was right, music sounded all over the hallway, leading me straight to the practice room. By the door, I stopped, feeling suddenly very uneasy. I couldn't hear any voices, just heavy steps and occasional shouts of the choreographer. How should I announce myself once I come in? As the girl who spilled her coffee on him? Or the girl he had a scandal with? My hands became sweaty. I didn't think this through enough.

Maybe I just need to stop overthinking. It worked once, it could work again.

But just as I reached for the knob, the music on the other side stopped. A person was nearing, and I panicked. Very hard.

The first thing that came to my mind was to hide behind that door, pretending I wasn't even there. I reminded myself to keep silent, at any cost and just waited for the worst. Of course, this couldn't go smoothly all the way. That would be too easy.