“Barely an hour! Barely an hour I was out. My wife, I... I left her back at the hotel, and... and I...“ The man’s breath hitched in his throat, eyes wide with disbelief, “God, how could I not see them?”
A jittery hand swiped across his brow, wiping away cold sweat. "There was just... a blinding flash! Flash and floor, and the thump of footfalls everywhere...” he seemed to choke back a sob as he wrapped his arms around himself, “Like, I’ve heard of people being shrunken, right here in Seoul, I just didn’t think it’d happen to me. Not to me!”
The naked, rambling man stared at you crazily, a look of panic over his face. You returned a stoic glance, choosing to ignore him. "Hey," he persisted, fingers nervously tapping on your shoulder, "What's your story? Is there someone out there... looking for you?"
"I doubt it," you responded, your voice as flat as your expression.
Baffled, he cocked his head. "Well, my wife is probably tearing the hotel apart by now. It's just so... so unreal!" He shook his head in disbelief, his voice choked with fear. "How did we get into this mess?"
“Sold myself,” you muttered, “I sold myself. Seemed like a dream come true to me.” At that, he fell silent, stunned into quietude by your confession.
For the first time since you’d woken up in the box, it was silent. The guy seemed to be in disbelief. Although at first he hesitated to speak he eventually gave up and sauntered off, looking for some other reduced pilgrim to pester. You were left alone, tucked into the furthest corner of the package, entertaining yourself with thoughts of who’d purchased you.
Since shrinking technology became commonplace, a burgeoning black market had answered to the demand of tiny slaves for the rich and famous. It began in secrecy, mere rumors, but within a few years it had become tolerated in Asia well enough that actors, politicians and idols frequently broadcast their latest purchases of indentured speck-people to the Western world without fear of judgment.
Most were kidnapped and shrunken before they’d even realized their predicament. But shadowy corners of the internet hosted enigmatic cults that peddled knowledge, step-by-step guides for those bold enough to sell themselves into stratified social circles scattered across Asia and Eastern Europe. You’d bet your entire life on ending up in the eager hands of a Korean superstar, and the time had come to find out who you’d been lucky enough to be purchased by.
You and a few dozen others rattled in the box. Everyone watched upward, attentive, waiting for the cardboard edifice to split and reveal the face of your slavemaster. The shady shrink-dealer had guaranteed was that it’d be a Korean woman of renown, and nothing else. A strange, humiliating part of you felt happy to accept subservience to any idol on the principle of your own self-perceived inferiority to them. It just didn’t matter.
A rip screamed across the sky. Tape popped at the tugging of delicate fingers that slipped through cracks like squirming basilisks topped by flawlessly round almond shaped fingernails, expanding rifts parting to allow a flood of light that refracted off a glossy lacquer. Like the doors of an enormous hangar the flaps of the box were pulled away. Your heart began racing as you wondered who this idol was.
You heard her nasal voice before your eyes adjusted to the light to see her. “One, two, three, four,” she began counting, her eyes darting from one person to the next. “Seventeen,” she continued, her gaze momentarily glazing over you, your ephemeral eye contact drawing a quiet whimper as you identified her as Jeon Soyeon, the leader of (G)I-dle.
Your head was spinning! Had the dealer known how desperately you’d wanted it to be her all along? By the time she finished counting, you were desperate to speak to her, if only to profess your love to her, to tell her that unlike these slaves, you had sold yourself to her as an indentured servant. Would she treat you differently, or show you special favor?
Guides online stressed that it was smartest not to speak until she spoke to you. For now, you awaited the sweet voice of Soyeon, your chest fluttering as you imagined being held between her thin fingers, to be at her mercy…
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