"You'll need to go through some basic training first," Charles replied. "How long it takes depends on your progress. But with your gift, I doubt it'll take long. My assistant already included all the details about the training and everything beyond in that contract. Have a look."
I eyed at the document wearily. After all the paperwork I'd been forced to read lately, another thick stack honestly made me want to scream.
For the next thirty minutes or so, I went through every line, while Charles poured himself a cup of tea and sipped it like he was sipping cocktails on a beach.
According to the contract, I'd have to stay in the campus during training. There were dorms for both trainees and signed artists. Meals and expenses would be covered. I'd also receive a small monthly stipend of S$10,000.
Woah, wait — ten thousand S dollars? That wasn't a small stipend at all?! That was double my flight attendant salary! So this was what it meant to be a talent at KE? I should've said yes the first time he asked!
I stole a quick glance at Charles. He caught my gaze and smirked faintly, like he could read exactly what I was thinking.
"You're done reading?" he asked.
I swallowed hard and set the document down. "I'll follow your arrangement, Mr. Kosonen. Should I sign it now?"
For a while, he only looked at me in silence. Then he said, "Before you do, I have one more request."
"A request?"
"Would you sing a song for me?"
My cheeks flared instantly. "Sing? For you? Like, now?"
"If you don't mind," he replied coolly. "Or we could move somewhere more comfortable."
"That won't be necessary," I said quickly. "Which song would you like to hear?"
"Something deserving of the contract we're about to sign."
Good God.
That was the most helpful prompt I'd ever heard.
I scratched my jeans nervously, thinking. A minute later, an idea came to my mind.
"If you don't like this one, just tell me," I said. "I'll change to something else."
He only inclined his head slightly, his silver eyes glinting as he leaned back calmly in his chair.
I drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, steadying myself.
The song I'd picked was a little different from what I usually sang at the bar. Bar people loved covers of popular songs, something they could hum along to with a drink in hand. But truth be told, I'd always preferred singing songs I'd written myself. And this, this one was mine.
The shape of your smile haunts me in my sleep,
The touch of your hands lingers on my skin,
The sound of your voice tells me I'm in love,
I close my eyes and wish you were mine.
...
It was a song with a soft, wistful melody about a girl's feelings for a boy she had a crush on. I'd written it for Niklas when I first knew him. For a version of him that was sweet, earnest, and kind. Not the Niklas I'd broken up with.
I didn't even open my eyes as I sang. I couldn't. I was too shy, too nervous.
What if Charles realized that I actually wasn't that good? What if he changed his mind on this entire contract thing once I finished singing?
The thoughts only made me press my eyes shut more tightly. The lyrics just flowed out on their own, from my lungs, through my throat, and all the way to the top of my head.
When I stopped, the room went utterly still.
No sound came from Charles. No reaction.
I slowly opened my eyes.
His silver eyes were inches from mine.
My breathing ceased.
"Mr. Koso—"
"Charles," he murmured, his voice low as his finger traced the line of my chin. "Just Charles."
My lips quivered faintly as his finger left my chin, trailing slowly down the side of my neck.
"Was that song an original?" he asked, his touch brushing lightly over my collarbone. "Was it for your boyfriend?"
"Ex-boyfriend," I corrected quietly. "I broke up with him last week."
His hand stilled. "What happened?"
"He's with my best friend," I said bitterly. There was no need to elaborate further.
"How unfortunate," he murmured.
There wasn't any hint of sincerity in his tone. Just an even tone and an unreadable, calm face.
When the silence stretched, I started feeling nervous.
"Did you... like the song?" I asked.
Charles leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against my ear as he whispered, "I hated it."
My whole body went rigid. Heat flared up my neck. "I... I'm very sorry," I stammered, trying to fix it somehow. "I can sing another one for you."
"No need."
I lowered my head.
Oh dear. Just what I'd been dreading.
What was I even thinking? He must've really been too high on boba tea the other day when he came up with this ridiculous offer.
Me? Signing with KE? Yeah, maybe in my next life.
Charles leaned back. He slid the two contract documents toward me and set a pen neatly on top of it.
"Just sign the contract."
I blinked, staring at him in disbelief.
Huh?!
"Camille will show you around," he said, rising from his chair. He slid the chair neatly back to the head of the table and pressed the button again. "You can go now."
Wait, wait a minute.
What just happened? Wasn't he supposed to revoke the offer?
The woman with the severe face called Camille entered again, walking straight to me. She bowed deeply while I just stared at her, still trying to process the situation.
"Please sign both copies of the contract," she said. "We'll keep one, and you'll keep the other, Ms. Sepala."
I grabbed the pen and scrawled my signature on both swiftly. If I wasted another second Charles might just change his mind on the whole thing.
"I won't take any more of your time, then." I rose from my chair. "I think there's someone quite eager to see you waiting outside now."
He glanced at me, smirking faintly. "So you've met one of my superstars," he said, his tone edged with annoyance. "Just don't take to heart whatever he says."
"I don't," I said. "See you, Charles."
When I turned around, Camille's face had gone noticeably stiff.
She quickly composed herself again, stepped aside and gestured toward the door. "This way, Ms. Sepala."
I picked up my copy of the contract and followed her out of the conference room.
The campus was enormous. It took half a day just to see everything. With Camille's icy professionalism, the whole experience felt more like an inspection rather than a tour. Cafés, restaurants, dance studios, recording booths, office buildings. She rattled through them all in exhaustive detail, listing rules, procedures, and where to go for what.
She also mentioned she wouldn't be managing me directly. A man named Esko would handle that, and I'd meet him once training began.
When the tour finally ended, she led me to the dormitory complex and stopped at the tallest building.
"Here's your key card," she said, handing it to me. "Your room is on the 20th floor, Room 1. Please save my number and send me your account details. If you need anything, refrain from contacting Mr. Kosonen directly. You may call me anytime, Ms. Sepala. A chauffeur will pick you up this afternoon to collect your belongings. Your training begins tomorrow."
I nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Camille."
"One more thing," she added coldly, "Please refrain from addressing Mr. Kosonen by his name in front of others."
She gave me a deep bow and walked away.
I lingered at the doorway for a moment, watching her go, feeling uneasy. Before I could step inside, a mellow voice called out to me.
"Hello, miss? You're a new artist? You're so pretty!"