And I mean it. Sunhee will be great at that. She might not be the most drop-dead gorgeous member of the group, but she’s totally lovable, largely thanks to her fun TV personality. I wish she could see that instead of letting the other girls get to her so much.

But I can’t help but remember why the radio show sounds so familiar. It’s the same show that Mr. Park, the SOAR exec at the party in Shanghai, approached me about. He said he’d be in touch with DB, but I never heard anything after that. Apparently, the DB execs decided to give the opportunity to Sunhee instead.

I’m genuinely happy for her, but I can’t help but feel a flicker of annoyance at DB. This is the second time now that I’ve realized they’ve prevented opportunities from reaching me. First Vogue, now the SOAR radio show. They’re obviously taking all the offers coming in for specific girls and distributing them as they see fit. On one hand, I can appreciate that they want to keep things equal for all of us—I think about the fan-mail piles, each of us sizing up to see who got more and who got less. You definitely don’t want to breed that sense of inequality in a group if you can avoid it. But on the other hand, it’s a jolting reminder that I owe everything to DB—anything I want to pursue, it needs to have their stamp of approval first, or it will never happen.

I think of what Carly Mattson told me—but more than our conversation, I think of the air of confidence she has about her life, finding balance, and doing the things that make her happy. Would it make you happy? Alex asked me about dipping into the fashion world.

Yes, I realize. It would.

But there’s no point in spending any further thought on it until I talk to the people who matter most.

DB.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Noh. I know you have a very busy schedule.”

Mr. Noh leans back in his brown leather office chair and crosses his legs. “Not a problem, Rachel. You know you’re always welcome here.”

Hard to believe him when he’s peering at me through his glasses like he’s trying to dissect my brain. I haven’t had a private meeting with Mr. Noh in years, and I’m finding myself a little out of practice. There’s always a delicate dance to these conversations—me, trying to give the appropriate respect, while also standing my ground and requesting what I think is fair; him, trying to be a reasonable and generous employer, but also making sure I know who’s boss.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks.