Itzy had become the most famous band in the world. But fame had left Yeji bored and disillusioned. As if they had been waiting for this moment, Britain's covert intelligence agency, MI6, recruits the young star and trains her to be the most dangerou...
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Being famous sucks. After all, the famous will tell you that fame is just another job. If you want to practice for years, work sixteen hour days, take part in countless inane photo shoots and game shows, just to go home and read on Twitter that some man-child living in his parents' basement thinks you're fat, then the job is yours.
After the show, Yeji was in her hotel room, sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs back and forth. She was beyond bored, beyond tired. She couldn't say anything to the other girls, but she was thinking of retiring. Not just leaving Itzy, but retiring from the whole industry. Maybe she'd shave her head and become a monk or teach preschool or something. Anything to not have to go onstage and sing a bunch of songs they didn't even write for the ten thousandth time.
But she didn't care. It was all so stupid. She looked back at her life and pictured the little girl singing into a hair brush in the bathroom. How did it go from that to who she was now? She thought fame and money would fix everything, but here she was, sitting alone in a hotel room, feeling sorry for herself, and at the same time, she was mad at the world.
There was a knock on the door. She sprang from the bed and looked through the peephole. It was a tall lady in a black and white housekeeping uniform.
"Complimentary champagne!" she called.
Yeji turned the knob and the door had barely opened when the woman pushed the door in so hard it almost knocked Yeji over. Then she grabbed Yeji in a choke hold, covered her mouth with her hand, slammed the door, and dragged her over to the chair in the corner of the room.
"Here's what's going to happen, Yeji," the woman hissed. "I'm going to remove my hand and you're not going to make a sound, or you'll leave this room but your kneecaps won't. This is real. I'm not to be crossed. You have no idea what I'm capable of. Believe me, you will look back at this as the greatest and worst day of your life." Slowly she pulled her hand away.
"Who are you!?!" Yeji asked desperately.
"Call me Radius. You will be known as Vector. You'll have other cover names, but you will never use any other name when we communicate. 'Yeji' is just a ghost, a role you'll play from time to time. Understand?" Yeji nodded meekly. She liked her kneecaps. They went way back.
From down the hall came the sound of drunken laughter. Radius reached behind her and pulled out a long black gun with a silver-colored silencer attached.
"A man will knock on your door in 60 seconds. Take this gun and kill him. Normally, I'd ask you to lure him in, but in this case, shoot through the door."
Yeji panicked. "What? I'm not killing anyone! Who are you? What is this? Why do I have to kill a stranger?"
"Because," Vector said slowly in a posh English accent, "He is going to kill you, and then kill all of the other girls."
Yeji's eyes turned cold. She walked to the door, straightened her arm, and held the gun up against the peephole. The instant she heard the killer's fist hit the door, she pulled the trigger eleven times in under three seconds.
The hammer just clicked. The gun wasn't loaded.
"Damn, you are everything Control said you were, and then some. You've been wasting your time singing and dancing."
Yeji let the gun fall to the floor and slid down the wall.
"Let me guess," Radius said. "You're a poor little rich girl who's got it all but isn't happy, and you live in a precious little bubble where the little people do whatever you say, right?"
Tears welled in Yeji's eyes.
"Quit crying," Radius barked. "Itzy is now just a part-time job for you."
"What?" Yeji said.
"Your new job is going to be assassinating some of the worst people in the world. Hwang Yeji, welcome to MI6."
