Mara

Noise.

Too much noise and a drumming I couldn't point out whether it was in my head or if it was real.

But the vision, I could swear it was real.

A raven.

Or was it a flock of ravens?

I ran away from them.

I couldn't run fast enough.

They were closing in on me.

He was closing in on me.

"Mara!"

How did he know my name?

"Mara!"

I ran faster. So fast, but I was being vacuumed back.

I was sweating and barely breathing.

Why does this road have no end?

"Goddamn it, Mara. Open the door."

My eyes opened widely as if I had come back from death. I heaved a deep breath, instantly propping my palms on the bed, sitting straight.

Jesus. How long do overdose side effects last? Ain't nobody got time for nightmares, too.

"Mara!" Jungkook shouted again, and I realized he might have been the trigger of my nightmares. Asleep and awake. "Open. The. Door."

"Coming," I yelled back.

I threw a glance at the clock on the bedside table. Almost eight. Who comes to someone's house this early?

A debt collector. That's who.

Swallowing, I realized my throat was drier than a wall grater. I threw my legs out of the bed, ignoring the constant knocking on my door, and walked out of my bedroom. Every muscle in my body was aching, as if the pain I was supposed to feel yesterday and was spared came with a late payment fee.

I stopped at the kitchen, opened the tap, and chugged down water as if it were the answer to my pending questions. Only when I couldn't hold my breath any longer did I stop. I closed the tap and kept holding on to it for dear life. My head was spinning so much that it felt like I was in an active earthquake.

Slowly, I moved from the kitchen counter and walked to the front door, throwing it open.

"Good morning, Jungkook," I offered. "Good thing you're here at this ungodly hour. About the drugs you gave me—what were they cut with?"

Jungkook didn't dignify my question with an answer but with a side eye before he pushed the door open and stepped into my house uninvited.

"I kept calling you all night," he said, slumping on the couch. "Where were you? We were supposed to meet after your set."

Were we?

I must've forgotten. Actually, I even forgot how I'd made it home last night, let alone meeting his ass to give him money.

I bet I forgot that one on purpose.

"Too many drinks," I offered, reaching for a bottle of water from the fridge. This hangover was demonic. My body seemed to be on another level of dehydration. My thirst couldn't be quenched. "And I asked you a question," I reminded him.

Jungkook followed me with his disapproving glare as I sat at the dinner table.

"What type of question is that?" he threw back. "My shit is always clean. Wassup?"

"Is it?" I volleyed back. "I've been feeling like shit for two days now."

"Well," he offered, grabbing the remote, trying to switch the TV on. Good luck with that. That thing has been broken for the last six months.

"That's normal for a first-timer." He wasn't even looking at me, so focused on removing the battery and putting it back in again. "Maybe that's your cue to give me back the rest. Drugs ain't for you, Mara."

I looked down at the bottle I was holding. I didn't have much to say. To be exact, I didn't have much to give back either.

"What?" I heard him ask. I chanced a look at him, finding him staring at me with narrowed eyes. "You took all of it?"

I leaned back against the chair, playing it cool. "Well, I liked the buzz."

"Goddamn it, M. You could've died," he shouted, now on his feet, palms digging into the corners of the small dining table. "Matter of fact, how are you still alive? That was four grams of cocaine."

Exactly. You should ask that of the ER doctors.

I wasn't in the habit of sharing my plans with Jungkook, and I wasn't about to start now. So I shrugged.

"It seemed to me like a just dose for two days' use."

He didn't need to know that I actually used his so-called four grams in one night, just as he didn't need to know that I'd asked for the drugs to commit suicide in the first place.

After all, I'd promised him an installment payment. The dead didn't have access to PayPal.

"You're crazy," he shouted again. "And you dare question the quality of my merch? YOU OVERDOSED, you maniac."

"Stop shouting, will you?" I barked back. "I have a headache, and it's too early for this conversation anyway." I stood, walking toward the bathroom. "Why don't you tell me why you are here instead?"

"I have a job offer for you, but you seem to have picked up an interest in a junkie position, it appears," he taunted, annoyance loud in his voice.

I stopped in front of the bathroom, turning around so that I was looking straight into his eyes. Jungkook, for all of his shortcomings and sleaziness, was a very handsome man. I sometimes wondered why he wasn't scouted to be a model.

"I told you several times I'm not interested in the type of job offers you bring me, Jungkook." I walked closer to him, so close I was hoping this time my words would register in his head. "I'm a singer, and I want to sing for a living. I'm not in the business of doing any type of other performances. Get it in your head."

I let my words linger in the air and turned back to the bathroom.

I really needed to pee.

"Who said anything about performing in a nightclub?" he threw back. "You might wanna hear this one out, M. I actually think you'd beg me to hook you up."

Curiosity was enough to make me decide that I could squeeze my bladder a bit longer.

I walked back to the couch where he was sitting and motioned with my hand for him to spill the beans.

He took a chair and parked himself across from me.

"There's a pub downtown. They need a new singer to replace someone. It's only for three months, but the pay is good for only three sets a night."

I mulled his words over. Looking at him, he seemed excited, which meant he wasn't lying. His commissions were directly tied to how much I made, so.

"How much good are we talking?" I asked.

"428 thousand won good," he offered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

I made a quick mental calculation. 428 per day for three months was too good to be real. But it was good. I could pay the heater bills, stock up on food, and pay rent, and I would still manage to keep something aside for Elara.

But still.

When it came to Jungkook, I really had to make sure I wasn't stepping into a hole.

"What's the pub called?" I asked with a raised brow. I knew enough pubs to know which ones were shady.

Jungkook scoffed.

"That's the best part." He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his palms together. "The Meridian."

Now that made me stop.

The Meridian was a very respectable pub. A place where people with good bucks gathered. Not everyone could land a job there, which begged the question...

"How did you get the manager to have me there?" I asked. "Singers there have an audience on every social platform, and most of them are music majors. I've never seen a university campus from a far distance, let alone being a music major."

"Ohh, M," Jungkook sang-songed, shaking his head. "Fate is a nice concept. And sometimes, we go as far as calling it luck."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Okay, okay." He raised his hands in surrender, sensing my impatience and no-bullshit mood. "The manager has been visiting pubs, quietly scouting someone who's got talent. Guess he found his perfect candidate last night."

Now that convinced me.

I wasn't someone humble about her talent. I had that shit in spades. It's what I lacked in luck that was rewarded in talent, I guess. So it made sense that I was scouted after I came back from a certain death.

Fate is indeed a nice concept. Never thought I'd be quoting Jungkook.

I nodded slowly, my eyes on Jungkook.

"Alright," I said. "When are we meeting the person in charge?"

Jungkook lit a cigarette, and I swear to God, if Elara were here, I would've shoved it so deep in his ass he would've quit the nasty habit.

"Tonight," he offered, blowing smoke out of his nostrils.

"Well," I started. I stood, opening the front door and pointing outside with a raised eyebrow, signaling Jungkook that it was time he left. "Guess tonight is the night I call fate a lucky occurrence."

Reluctantly, and with a disapproving glare, he stood up and walked out the door.

"See ya tonight, M."

I shut the door.

~~~

"I told her the truth," Elara shrugged. "That I had to stay with them tonight as well because you have a new job." She kicked the pebble with her checkered Vans, looking radiant and happy. I had to buy a nice gift for Yuri's mother. She was taking good care of my sister even when she didn't have to. "You need this job, M. We need it. So I don't mind spending a few more nights with Yuri. I actually love it when I sleep at hers and get to play with her new makeup."

Right there, watching the smile on my baby sister's face, I decided I'd make the most of these three months. I'd save enough money to get her everything she wanted.

Shaking my head, I ruffled her hair.

"Shall we take breakfast at Wendy's tomorrow, rascal?"

"Now that's what I'm talking about." She fisted the air, doing a victory jump.

I smiled, and in a very long time, it felt like a real smile.

It was closing on six in the evening. The streets were already cloaked in night, winter's doing. The weather was pretty windy, so standing in a mini skirt in front of Yuri's porch wasn't only earning me judgmental glances from passersby, but also freezing my legs.

There wasn't much I could do about that, though.

I had to drop my sister off at her friend's before I started my long trip that consisted of three metro changes to the Meridian.

If only I had a car.

But then again. What was I supposed to give said car as fuel? Water? While it was working for me, I wouldn't say it would suit the horsepower.

"Tomorrow at nine I'll pick you up, rascal."

I dropped a kiss on my sister's cheek, and she hugged me in return.

"Good luck, M."

To both of us, sis.

~~~

I guess I needed that luck after all. My nerves were buzzing with both fear and excitement as I stepped inside The Meridian.

The place was sleek. All warm dimmed lights against black and gold. The patrons were mostly clad in designer clothes. Actually, even the waitresses were in nice uniforms consisting of modest pencil skirts or tailored pants and crisp white shirts.

Besides luck, I needed clothes that would blend in. If the imposter had a suit, my denim skirt and burgundy top would be it.

"Can I take your jacket, Madame?"

The waiter's voice startled me in the midst of my frozen state. I'd been standing at the threshold for a hot second, waiting to find Jungkook. He was nowhere to be seen, but there was a lot to look at instead.

So I'll be working here for the next three months? It kinda felt surreal.

"Hm, thank you." I slipped my arms out of my coat, my eyes scanning my surroundings. "Can I ask you something?" I started.

"Sure, Madame," the waiter answered with a professional smile. "How can I help you?"

"I'm the new singer, and I was wondering where I could find the person in charge."

Even the words coming out of my mouth felt out of place. I bet singers here had better management. I bet the waiter was judging me silently with that polite smile of his.

"Oh, are you Miss Mara Blackthorn?" He asked. I shifted in my heels. "The manager is upstairs waiting for you. Please follow me."

As we took the stairs, I could feel my hand leaving sweat prints on the pristine black banister. The music was echoing through the surfaces. Not cheap, loud. But generic nonetheless and extra loud.

The waiter knocked on the door and waited until he was cleared. He announced me, and then fully opened the door, inviting me in.

Awkwardly smiling, I walked in. I didn't know what I was expecting, but I definitely didn't expect a man about my age playing Roblox on his phone, sitting on a couch instead of behind a desk.

"Hey, Mara," the man offered. He was dressed for the occasion and the place, I must admit. A crisp black suit and shirt, matching his black, slightly long hair. "Please take a seat."

I did, looking around the room-meets-office. There was a meeting table in the middle, and a huge screen mounted on the wall in front of it. A wet bar in the corner. And two couches, one of which I was sitting on.

Nothing screamed corporate interview. But then again, this was no LLC.

"I believe my manager shared my portfolio," I started, smiling. "But I brought a copy with me just in case," I added, handing him my folder. There were songs I composed and wrote, and a bunch of pubs I sang in for reference.

"He did," the man answered, going through the file rapidly. "Heard too many nice things about you, Mara. Which is why I'm going to make this short and sweet."

He stood and walked to the wet bar. "A drink?"

"Just water."

His eyes lingered on me at my answer, and had I known him enough, I'd have joked about not being a prude. The problem was, I didn't know him, and the way his eyes were scanning every inch of my body didn't really help bring my jokester to life.

After he'd poured himself two fingers of scotch, he grabbed a capped water bottle, which he handed to me.

He downed his drink, his eyes still on me, and then rounded the meeting table, from which he grabbed a manila envelope.

"As I said, I'll make this short to conserve both of our time," he offered, handing me the envelope. "Your shift starts right after you sign the dotted line."

My anxiety started turning into a creepy unease. Everything was going too smoothly to be real. I didn't do smooth, and I didn't expect Jungkook to do all this heavy lifting for me.

I opened the envelope and read through the paragraphs. It all seemed legit. My wage was written black against white, no traps there.

Yet...

"Name is Min Yoongi," the man finally presented himself, handing me a pen. "And if you seize the attention of connoisseurs as you did at Raging Tiger, the stage will be yours for a long time."

I could feel my brows forming a frown. Connoisseurs? Since when was the Raging Tiger frequented by connoisseurs?

But then it clicked in my head. This man must have been at the Raging Tiger. He was the connoisseur. Such an odd and flaring way to describe himself, but he just hinted at a permanent position. Annnd he was the boss. So if he wants to be a bit ego-driven, I couldn't see why I shouldn't put up with it. For all of his weirdness, he seemed easygoing.

I took the pen from his hand, fighting a grin.

"So, no test?" I asked.

"I told you," he said, shoving his hands in his tailored pants pockets. "I heard good things."

Raising a brow, I smiled and signed right next to my name.

"Nice doing business with you, Mara," Yoongi said as I handed him back the contract. "I'll let you take a look around the place before your set. When it's due, the waiter who brought you here will show you around the backstage."

I took it as my cue to stand up. I stretched my hand for a handshake. "Likewise."

Yoongi looked at my stretched arm for a second too long, then he smiled. His hands were still in his pockets. "Germophobe, I'm afraid."

Welp.

"Of course," I muttered. "I understand. I'll leave you to it then."

Embarrassed, I opened the door and spilled outside.

I walked down the stairs so fast that when my heel clung to something fuzzy, I almost saluted the banister headfirst.

Taking off my heel, I cursed as I tried to remove whatever clung to it.

I expected gum or a piece of fabric. But when I inspected the fuzzy object closely, I froze.

It was a feather.
A black feather.

My mind raced so fast with images of the nightmare I had this morning. And though I knew this feather could be, for all I knew, a synthetic feather that had fallen from some kind of prop, my mind refused to stop replaying the ravens that were vacuuming me in my dream.

"Guess we're having that drink here after all," a familiar voice sounded behind me.

I jumped, scared shitless before turning around and finding...

"Taehyung?" I called, surprised. Too surprised that I forgot I was still holding my shoe in my hand.

Embarrassment seemed to be clinging to me something fierce.

I dropped the shoe and slipped my foot into it. "I didn't expect to see you here," I added.

He took the stairs leisurely in his white shirt, slightly unbuttoned at the top, and gray tailored pants. His sleeves were rolled, showing some intricate ink I couldn't fully see.

"I, on the other hand, did expect you here," he offered.

I tilted my head, confused.

"I promised you a drink," he explained. "And I believe there's no better toast than a celebratory toast. What do you think?"

My frown and confusion deepened. I took a step back.

"You just signed for a new job," he pointed at the office I had just left with his thumb, and either I was growing dumb or something very strange was going on in here.

"How would you know?" I asked accusingly.

He stepped closer. His subtle yet very warm cologne was attacking my nostrils. It was a scent I failed to describe; it was so sharp and unlike any male cologne I'd smelled before.

"I told you last night your performance amazed me," he shrugged. "Couldn't help but recommend you."

"So it was you the connoisseur Yoongi talked about?"

When he reached the step I was standing on, he stretched his arm, signaling for me to lock mine with his. I looked at him with a quizzical gaze. Still, I was smiling.

"More or less," he said.

I locked my arm with his as we descended the stairs. Employees at the base of the stairs bowed, and too many eyes were on us.

I chanced a look at Taehyung, genuinely out of my depth now. "More or less?"

He just smiled, ignoring my question.

"More or less," he repeated softly. "Mara Blackthorn."

Mara Blackthorn.

I could swear I heard my name called the same way before.

Same timbre of voice.

Same cadence.

And then I couldn't hear anything else.