" Guys it's not my own story this story was written by my Online Hardcore Pervert Friend , so guys this story not follow my Regular style "
The first day at YG didn't feel like stepping into an office. It felt like stepping into a machine.
Lights hummed overhead, casting sharp reflections off polished floors. Staff hurried down narrow halls with tablets and laptops, speaking in clipped bursts of Korean and English. Doors clicked open and shut. Phones rang without pause.
Y/N clutched the strap of her bag tighter, the weight of her new ID badge heavy against her chest. Assistant Manager. It looked ordinary enough, black font on white laminate. But to her, it might as well have said sink or swim.
"Stick close, you'll get used to the rhythm," Alison, Jennie's longtime manager, murmured as they walked. Her tone was brisk, efficient, but not unkind. She had the aura of someone who had survived years of this chaos, and knew how to bend it to her will.
Y/N nodded quickly, forcing her stride to keep up. She'd dreamed of working in music for years, but nothing about this felt like a dream. It felt like being dropped into the eye of a storm.
And then she saw her.
Jennie Kim.
Not in the glossy, styled way she looked in magazines or stage. Just, in the hall, mask on, hair tied back, expression unreadable as she adjusted the cuff of her jacket while listening to a staff member.
She was smaller than Y/N expected, but her presence filled the space, gravity pulling all eyes toward her. Except Jennie didn't give any of them back. Not the stylists hovering at her side, not the managers double-checking notes, not Y/N, the new face trying not to stare.
Her gaze was cool, detached. She nodded once to the staffer, then turned on her heel, walking away with a kind of grace that was almost sharp.
The Ice Queen.
Y/N had heard whispers already. Polite, but cold. Keeps to herself. All business unless you're one of the members. Still, seeing it in real time hit different. Jennie built walls out of silence, and no one seemed brave enough to climb them.
The first months at YG blurred into a cycle of tasks, schedules, wardrobe runs, frantic phone calls, making sure meals were on time, making sure they weren't late. Y/N learned quickly that the job wasn't about glamour. It was about control, keeping chaos contained.
Jennie was the hardest part of that control.
Not because she was cruel, no, she wasn't. She was polite, always. Thank yous clipped but present, bows precise, requests made with care. But there was a distance. A frost.
Jennie spoke to Alison, to the members, sometimes to stylists, but rarely to anyone else. Not to Y/N. Not beyond what was necessary. Water, please. I need ten minutes. We're running late.
It wasn't hostility. It was something colder, indifference. Like Y/N existed in the same orbit, but not the same world. And Y/N? She accepted it, told herself it was normal. Jennie Kim was Jennie Kim. Untouchable. And she was just staff. Still, sometimes, just sometimes, Y/N caught the moments between. Jennie in the wings, breathing deep, shoulders rising and falling like she was holding the whole stage on her back. Jennie in the van after shows, mask up, head pressed to the glass, silence wrapping her tighter than any blanket.
It was after one of those shows, when it happened.
The van smelled faintly of hairspray and sweat, the leftover adrenaline of a crowd still buzzing in their bones. The members piled in, collapsing into seats. Lisa tapped her phone screen, earbuds already in. Rosé hummed low, almost lullaby-soft, before drifting off. Jisoo tilted her head back, eyes slipping shut the moment the door clicked closed.
Jennie slid into her seat last. She didn't speak. Didn't even glance around. Just leaned against the window, mask tugged down, lashes lowering until sleep caught her like a tide. Y/N sat across from her, pressed against the corner, hands locked in her lap. She wasn't watching. Not really. But she noticed. The way Jennie's brow stayed furrowed even in sleep. The way her shoulders twitched, small, involuntary, under the blast of the van's AC.