Prologue: Kun Shou Zhi Dou (Duel of Trapped Beasts)

Beauty, strength, charisma, perfection. These are all the things that will make a person. You must have all of these qualities, else wise you will fail at all aspects of life. This is the recipe for success. Take good care of your looks, speak only the things that people want you to speak. Study hard, get good grades, become a perfect living doll. Do what people want you to do. This, is what life is like.

But I don't want to live that life. I want to be able to make my own path, I want to be able to create that world there yonder. The one that no one sees but me. I want to share it all.

And yet, I sit here, playing the dumb doll.

Just like they want me to.

Factor the following equation and solve for x

x2 bx c

All people in this world are after one thing, there's no denying the fact. We're all born with the innate ability to cry for attention. However, that ability either wanes or strengthens over the years. Those who happen to hone their ability to cry for attention to an art have become the celebrities that we as a society pay thousands of dollars to watch and to entertain ourselves. The others, who have commanded their attention to the books have become the great scholars, the professors that educate our nations. They are the ones who become the politicians the people with the book smarts, the people with all the knowledge of the workings of the world. There are yet even others who have honed their attention getting skills and changed it into a coying charisma. The ability within them to speak out and console the crying, the tattered and the broken is great. These are the people who can cope with the stress and the great burden of tasks such as doctors or surgeons. These are the people who have strengthened their nature to attract attention; they are the ones who have honed their nature to a precise weapon. A weapon that they can wield against the real world.

And yet, there are still others, who cannot do any of this. There are others who have become the internal fighters. The ones who have no charisma, no innate ability to speak out it seems. There are the people who hide in the back, who are afraid to cry out for help. These are the people who have given up on their ability to call for attention. The people who feel that they are worthless. There are others, beyond them, the people who have never nurtured their nature to call for attention to themselves. Rather, they seek attention in other forms, these are the people who have nurtured a different nature within themselves; the nature of art. These people change the world, fascinate the population with paintings, poetry, words, these are the people who refuse to sell their body for the world, rather, they take the ultimate bullet, and sacrifice their mind and soul.

And yet. I am none of these. An anomaly is what I am, something that doesn't fit. I've lost my soul somewhere on the process of becoming someone great.

xcy z... y zbx

Somewhere, I had lost sight of what I had really wanted. Which is probably why I sit here where I am now, above all the others who had applied. I had lost sight of the thing that keeps all other people going, and in this loss of sight, I had found a false light. A light that I had thought would bring me towards the end of the uncharted, dark, and dismal forest, however, that light was as fake as the people around me who had clawed their way to get this job.

I suppose I'm at fault for this. I was so damned determined to save the people around me that I forgot to look out for myself and the hole that I've dug. Now, all that's left for me to do is to claw my way back up to the land that I knew so well.

Thus... x2 yx zx c...

There are time in which I wonder if it's alright for me to do this. Those are the times where I want to run away from it all, run away from the fate that I had chosen for myself. It was I who wanted to be the writer, the artist, It was me who wanted to see the world with words. It was my own damned fault that I'm here.

It's cold. Cold and dreary in this clean white room. Hopefully my crash course Korean lessons during the last year of college have proven to be good enough to work me though. If not, I can always just bullshit my way through this interview, after that, get another job, and hopefully just make it by without having to be in this foreign country without a visa.

After all, this is just a paid internship right? There's nothing to really lose to it. All the other girls in this race, we're all surviving for this chance to get the one thing that all people want from the attention that they attract: money. That's what we're all here for. Some can claim it's their 'passion' but it's a lie. It's just a facade to show off how much smarts one person has. It's nothing to be happy about if one wins this. This is just another battle of trapped beasts within a confined room. We're all clawing away at each other to get a simple job as a designer.

Why did I even do this in the first place?

That's right. To make people happy. That's what I always end up doing, and always, I'm the miserable one at the end.

"Yashi Liu, the president would like to see you now."

Smile like a winning saleswoman, grin as though there's nothing wrong at all. Sit up straight, show no fear... Say what they want to hear and mean it. Don't B.S. your way out of this one. You need it more than those other girls. It doesn't matter how you get this money. Just get it. And mean everything you say, no matter how opposed you are. This is the way of life. Come, let's rock this bitch.

The room was cold instead of comforting in the dead of the summer. The air was stifling instead of free flowing as it should be. I couldn't think straight, but at the same time I had to. Perhaps these people would forgive me for majoring in art and just get it over with by not hiring me. I already missed home. Why did I drag myself into this?

"Miss. Liu, pray tell, why do you believe that you deserve this job as a personal clothing designer for SM Entertainment's biggest groups?"

"Well, quite frankly, I'm not the lawyer, nor am I the engineer, no mathematician I am, however, I do have something that the previously said people do not and that is the creative mind to warp any ideas into a beautiful visage or a poem of choice. I'm the writer, the artist, and it is my passion to do things like this. The people before me, they may have the talent, they probably have the passion as well, but they don't have the touch to do it as I do. I cannot live a day without thinking what great works of art I can create for people to wear. Quite simply, I deserve this because I am the slave of imaginations and the seamstress of the world. If I can have anyone wear my designs, whether it be your groups or you yourself, I would be perfectly content."

"You're saying that you're not after the men that you are to work for?"

"After them? I'm after their bodies of course."

Crap. That came out bad. Really bad. And here I thought that my Korean was doing well. Come on Yashi, this is the final duel, any more mistakes like that and there's no doubt this money will be given to someone else.

"In the sense that they have the perfect figure to display works of art that is. I suppose I should make myself a bit clearer. I'm sorry, but I'm still learning my Korean, so you will have to excuse me if my language is a bit bad at times."

"Quite on the contrary, it seems as though you've studied hard to learn it."

"It's not my first language, I'll say, and it was hard to learn, but it was worth it in the end."

So... (x2 yx) (zx c) ...

"Anyways, as I was saying. What qualifies you to work for us? Other than the passion that you have? Your portfolio's quite impressive, however, I don't see how you have the personality to do such an arduous job."

"Well, quite frankly, I don't know what kind of personality you're looking for. If it's going to be someone who works hard, then you've got the whole package right here. I'm not too great with the language just yet, however I will learn. If you're looking for another pretty girl for your company to just simply sit there making white T-shirts all day, I suggest you go and hire another girl rather than me. I personally prefer my designs to be involved."

The man chuckled, his old, worn face crinkled into a smile. "I can tell you're quite a sarcastic one too."

"I prefer 'facetious' rather than 'sarcastic' it sound more gentle."

"You truly are an English major aren't you? Though, I must say... your designs are quite good. Why didn't you major in art instead?"

"Probably because I thought I was good enough as a side job."

"Well... It's good enough for us. Welcome aboard the crew of SM Entertainment."

"I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me. Thank your talent."

There was something about his face. Something about the way he spoke and the creepy smile on his face that made me not want to trust him. Something about the way he just seemed to smirk at his new hired employee. It was as if he was waiting for something in me to break.

Don't fight it. Don't break. That's exactly what they want you to do. You fall and you'll be in their trap of continuous hellfire. Fight it off as much as you can, Yashi. Just smile and pretend that they don't exist for now. There's nothing that they can do about your upbringing, from what you've read about the company, there have been plenty of American born stars. Just don't give into that deceiving smile of his.

"Ah, but it was you who hired me. I should thank you for giving me a job for the talent that got me here."

"Ah... right. I must say this though... because of your ah... nationality... and because of where you are, I must say that it'll be rough. You know, not that many people are too... ah... fond of foreigners. If you catch my drift that is. We can call for them to be nice, that doesn't mean that they will be however."

The room's temperature seemed to drop with those words. It was as if I was being plunged into a bucket filled with ice water and relentlessly being pushed further and further under until I drowned from lack of oxygen. It was as if I was slowly being deprived of any human like qualities due to the fact that I was simply from a different country and not used to the culture.

Damn it. I knew I should have been born Korean.

"I think I'll be fine as is. I'm interested in seeing how things work out."

"Very well. Congratulations, out of the three hundred girls that applied, you are the one that we hire."

"You make it sound like it was some kind of reality show to get onto here."

"In a sense it is. All the other girls who applied seemed to have a passion as well... but not for clothing, rather, for the sake of ah... how to put this nicely..."

"They wanted to have sex correct? You shouldn't be so formal with me sir, I am from the states, things like this happen all the time where I used to work."

He chuckled again, that same mischievous chuckle that seemed to be hiding a lot more than what he wanted. "Very well, from this point on, your information belongs to us. You are not the ethnicity that is written on your birth certificate, rather you are a Korean, you will never disclose your real name, rather, your name from this point forth will be Hana, simply Hana. You will not be allowed to be called any other name unless people ask for the truth. Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Very well, sign here please and you will start tomorrow. Welcome aboard... our new designer. DBSK and Super Junior will be grateful that such a talented girl like you will be working with them."

"Yes."

Scratch, scratch, scratch...

Just keep smiling, it'll only be a year of this fake life and then you'll be able to go back to writing with your best friend. Just a little more and you'll be able to work as you used to.

However: (x2 yx) (zx c) / a2 bc

It was at that point of the interview, right after he took the contract away that I felt this dreadful feeling inside of me. Dressed to the nines with an elaborately tailored suit to fit this occasion that I had spent hours upon hours of my life on previously before this, I had my hair curled and cut, redyed back to its original black color, from the vibrant blue that I once had, an old memory of my more innocent days, make up caked itself onto my face, I worried at one point on whether or not it would crack. And it was during that point, that I felt ... dirty, as if I didn't belong here, as if I were something that they had hired to toy with for another year, drain my body and brain until there was nothing left but a soul less husk.

And yet, I played along.

"Congratulations. Please follow my assistant, she'll be showing you to your new quarters."

"Thank you."

"It's my job."

"Right."

Therefore: x2 bx c no real answer