Chapter 3: Bad Start
From TN's perspective
The second day wasn't much better than the first. Y/N arrived on time, even before many of the staff. She had hoped—naively, perhaps—that Suga would be a little more receptive. But it seemed he had a special talent for ignoring her without even making the slightest effort.
It wasn't that he was rude. He was... cold. Reserved. Technically correct, emotionally detached. He only spoke to her when absolutely necessary, and never for more than two sentences at a time.
"Can you check this translation?" he said without looking at her, leaving some papers next to her laptop.
"Sure." Y/N took the text, reviewing it carefully. It was an interview that was supposed to be published in an international magazine. Everything was pretty good, but there were parts where her way of expressing herself didn't translate well into English. She began to highlight the phrases that needed adjustments.
A few minutes later, she approached the studio where he was sitting, now alone, adjusting a track.
—Excuse me, there are some phrases that might need to be rephrased. They sound odd if I translate them as is. Can I show you?
He let out a soft sigh, as if her presence was interrupting something important.
"What phrases?" he asked, turning around slowly.
—For example, this one—she showed him the paper—. You said, “Music doesn’t seek approval, it only seeks honesty.” It sounds good in Korean, but in English it sounds a bit stiff. Maybe we could say, “Music doesn’t seek validation, it seeks truth.” Or something more fluid.
"So what does that change?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
—Change the way people read you. The tone. The intention. If it sounds too literal, it loses its impact. And your way of speaking has power.
There was a silence. For a second, she thought she had convinced him. But then he slammed the pen down on the table.
—Are you a translator or an editor?
Y/N looked at him, surprised.
-Sorry?
—What I say, I say for a reason. I don't need you to interpret what I meant, I need you to translate what I said.
Her words were sharp. Direct. She didn't raise her voice, but they hurt just the same.
“And I try to do my job,” she replied, not backing down. “Translating also means conveying your message clearly, not just word for word. Or do you want to sound like a robot?”
He frowned slightly, barely perceptible, but enough.
—I don't like filters. I don't like interpretations. If you can't respect that, tell me now.
Y/N stared at him. Her heart was racing, a mixture of frustration and wounded pride. She wasn't going to let him walk all over her.
"I'm not a filter. I'm trying to help you be understood abroad the way we understand you here. But if you prefer to sound bland and dry, go ahead. I'm translating literally. After all, your image isn't my problem."
Silence.
A dense, tense, electric silence. Suga looked at her for a few seconds. Long seconds. As if he were truly seeing her for the first time.
"Do whatever you want," he said finally, turning back to the screen. "You'll do it your way anyway."
And although the argument had ended, Y/N felt like it was just beginning. Because there was something about his tone that wasn't disdain... it was defiance.
And for some reason, she didn't dislike it that much.