Chapter Text
The dim glow of the laptop screen reflected distorted shapes in full length windows, the only source of light in the sprawling penthouse suite save for the skyline of seoul silhouetted against a black night sky. Silence hummed like static in the background, broken only by the soft buzz of the TV left on in the bedroom playing some late night talk show, and the sound of the clicking of his mouse every few seconds.
Kwon Ji-yong, known to the world as G-Dragon, fashion icon, trendsetter, music pioneer, and business mogul, should probably have been looking through his thousands of emails or working on lyrics for his upcoming album. Deadlines loomed and his never ending list of tasks seems to grow more pressing by the day. But tonight he had set that all aside.
Maybe he needed a break. Maybe he was just…tired. Or maybe, deep down, he was looking for something that he couldn't even express.
He hummed a few bars of a song he was working on as his eyes moved slowly across the screen in front of him through an endless stream of profiles. Not of opportunities or collaborators- but profiles of women who had voluntarily signed up to be surrogates.
There were thousands of them, all from outside Korea, for privacy's sake. Every shape, every race, every background.
Each listing was as thorough as a dossier: hobbies, health history, educational background, even three generations of medical data. He scanned them with quiet intensity, searching for something he couldn’t quite define.
He wasn’t looking for love. This wasn’t about romance. But he was choosing someone who would carry his child—and for that, the right fit mattered. He wanted strength beneath softness. A woman grounded in her own life, independent, content. Most of all, someone untouched by fame, with no interest in his money, his name, or the press that came with them.
It sounded foolish, maybe. But Ji-yong had built an empire on foolish dreams.
He looked at the clock. It was 3:12am. He had to be up at 6am for an interview and he silently cursed himself for getting so carried away with his neurotic searching.
He was about to click out from the site when a message popped up. It simply read:
A candidate matching your criteria has been found.
His interest piqued, he clicked.
The Profile opened.
In the top right corner was a photo of a woman with wavy brunette hair and almost hauntingly green eyes. Her smile was soft but open, and she had small freckles decorating her light tan skin. She was pretty, but not in the polished way he saw every day. She wasn’t glamorously airbrushed or filtered. She looked... real. And that, in Ji-yong's world, was rare.
CANDIDATE PROFILE
Name: Lyda Mae Rose
DOB: 3/12
Age: 34
Nationality: American
Race: Caucasian
Ancestry: Italian
There was every detail under the sun listed, from height, weight, and blood type, to allergies, medication, and timing of menstrual cycle (which seemed a bit unnecessary and invasive.)
Education-wise, she had a masters degree in history and a minor in art, and was currently working as a museum archivists in Chicago- a detail which immediately caught his attention. He was definently interested in museums, primarily art, and her job sounded interesting and niche.
She has no criminal history, good health on both sides of her family, except for a history of pre-eclampsia in her mother and sister.
She described her attitude as ambitious, introverted, and a little sarcastic. Her hobbies included travelling, reading, and spending time outside.
According to the report she was child-free and relationship status was unattached - both good news to avoid unnecessary complications.
When asked why she was interested in being a surrogate, she replied simply that she would be honored to help someone who wasn't able to concieve have a child.
She honestly admitted she was a little unsure of the whole process but was open to gestational or traditional surrogacy with the right client
Ji-yong stilled, vigorously running his fingers through his bubblegum pink hair. He raised his eyes to stare out the window as the sky began to shift from black to the soft blue of early dawn.
Lyda Mae Rose. He said it over in his head, staring at her photo an embarrassingly long time as he attempted to imagine with a baby that was half him, half her world look like.
Finally, he typed a reply to the admin who had forwarded the profile.
I’m interested. Discretion is mandatory.
The response came quickly.
We’ll contact Ms. Rose and follow up. Thank you.
Short.
Efficient.
Now, all he could do was wait.