Lily pov
The heavy silence of the room was broken only by the sound of my own footsteps, a soft, echoing TRUDGE, TRUDGE across the floor. I kept my head bowed, my ponytail-clad hair falling forward, obscuring the man I was walking toward.
It had taken every ounce of courage just to approach him, to acknowledge what I had done and the feelings I had kept hidden. Finally stopping, I managed to whisper a single, broken word, "...SORRY..." and executed a trembling BOW.
He was sitting in a chair, his back to me, his broad shoulders in a dark suit tense. I didn't know how to explain the panic, the fear that had made me blurt out what I did earlier. "OH! O-OH..." The memory of the moment, of his surprised face, made me clutch my chest. "I DIDN'T KNOW..." I hadn't realized that the two of them were still together.
Looking up for a moment, I saw the professional woman standing to the side, her expression unreadable as she held a notebook. My colleague. When she had asked me if they were still a couple, I'd foolishly shaken my head, only for her to smirk and reply, "YEAH."
The realization of my mistake, of the whole disastrous encounter, crashed over me. "...IF I HAD KNOWN, I'D..." I trailed off, shame bubbling up inside me. I tried to hide my face in my hair, pulling at the twin ponytails and letting out a soft MUMBLE.
Later, walking away, I felt every STEP on the cold floor resonate with the pain in my chest. We had met through work—that was true. But the rest of it...
The truth was that my feelings were always genuine.
I glanced back, catching a glimpse of the professional woman. Her stern expression, the way she held her notebook with a slight RAISE of her arm, was intimidating. The truth was, I WAS ALONE IN GIVING MY HEART...
I was the only one who had truly given everything. And now I was walking away, leaving the wreckage of my ill-timed confession behind me.
The memory of my bright, foolish happiness flashed before my eyes: my wide, genuine smile surrounded by sparkling thought bubbles. "...I WAS ALONE IN MY EXCITEMENT..."
I remembered holding the heart-shaped lollipop, the flush of excitement on my cheeks, my hopeful gaze. "...AND I WAS ALONE... IN LIKING HIM."
It was a feeling that had always defined our relationship—an unbalanced scale where my heart weighed far too much. I looked down at my feet, the soft brown shoes coming to a sudden STOP. "...THAT'S HOW IT WAS."
The heavy truth settled on me, crushing the last bits of hope. My entire being was filled with a deep, hurting sorrow. The tears were already blurring the world, my face flushed with shame and sadness.
"...AND I WAS LEFT ALONE..."
I stood there, looking at his broad back in the dark suit, the sound of the rain outside now loud and sweeping—SWAA, SWAA. He had left. I looked up at the sky outside the window, watching the rain pour down in sheets.
This entire situation felt just like the drama.
"IN THE END, HE LEFT TO BE WITH HIS FIRST LOVE..."
The rain continued to fall heavily, drenching the world and mirroring the storm inside me. I stood facing the tall man in the suit, the contrast between his imposing stature and my smaller, heartbroken form stark against the rainy background.
I couldn't hold back the question that tore from my chest, my voice shaking beneath the sound of the downpour. "WHY?"
The woman with the dark hair and fierce eyes, the one who worked with him, looked at me, her own face wet from the rain now, her expression intense and severe. "WHY DO YOU HAVE TO LEAVE?"
Her eyes seemed to pierce me, demanding an answer I didn't have the strength to give. All I could manage was a blank, silent thought. "..." The only sound was the unforgiving rain: SWAA.
I was completely, utterly alone.
The rain continued to lash down—SWAA—washing over my hair and clothes, but it couldn't wash away the stinging defeat. I forced myself to look up at him, my voice barely a whisper against the deluge.
"Do you... love her?"
His answer was a single, devastating word. "...YEAH."
My heart shattered, the sound drowned out by the rain. I fell to my knees in front of him, the soaked fabric of my dress sticking to my legs. The cold, wet floor met my knees with a dull thud, and I let my head DROP in shame and desperation.
"It's all my fault," I choked out, tears mixing freely with the rainwater streaming down my face. My breath hitched as I tried to regain control. I looked up at him, my eyes wide with a frantic, sorrowful plea. "I'M SORRY, MISTER. PLEASE..."
I was begging now, utterly humiliating myself, but I couldn't stop the words. "PLEASE..."
I bowed my head again, trying to convey the depth of my regret and my feeling for him. "PLEASE DON'T GO..." I felt the weight of his gaze on me, unmoving. "I'M BEGGING YOU."
The thought of him leaving me for her was unbearable. I looked up once more, my face a mask of desperate sadness. "PLEASE DON'T GO TO HER..."
I had to tell him. It was now or never.
"I..." I took a shaky breath, trying to push past the lump in my throat. "...REALLY, REALLY LIKE YOU, MISTER..."
I remembered how it all started, those early, happier days, now so distant.
I smiled then, laughing about a picture in a book about "The Working Girl and the Salaryman." We were close, sharing a moment, and I truly felt we were making a connection. "AND... I'M REALLY SORRY I COULDN'T KEEP MY PROMISE." I had wanted to believe in a future for us.
I even remembered the time I had mistakenly called him "Mister" and quickly corrected myself, joking: "I'M SORRY FOR CALLING YOU 'MISTER.' ...TO BE HONEST, YOU DON'T SEEM THAT OLD." I had thought our age difference was something we could laugh about, something we could overcome.
I also remembered the argument, my own hurtful words fueled by frustration and insecurity. "AND I'M SORRY I GOT MAD AT YOU... ...SAYING YOU WOULDN'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO WORRY ABOUT MONEY."
But the sharpest memory of all was the painful realization that he had lied, or at least, had misled me about his relationship status. The rain felt like a second layer of tears as I whispered the truth I now knew: "LIAR."
My desperate plea was a final attempt to cling to something that was already gone. I waited on my knees in the downpour, knowing his next step would determine everything.
The answer, "...YEAH," had landed like a punch, stealing my breath. But before I could completely break, he moved. His large hand reached out, grabbing my wrist with a firm HOLD on the wet sleeve of my blouse.
Then came the second shock. His voice, low and sincere, said: "SORRY. I'M SORRY."
A second later, I was pulled against his chest in a powerful HUG. I clutched the back of his soaked suit jacket, the reality of the embrace overwhelming the fictional rain pouring down on us. My tears, which had briefly paused in shock, came back stronger.
"THE TEARS WON'T STOP FLOWING."
I looked around him, past his shoulder. I saw the arc lamp spraying water—SWAA, SWAA—the source of "...THE FAKE RAIN SPRAYING DOWN..." I saw the dark shapes of the camera equipment and "...THE DOZENS OF CREW MEMBERS WATCHING US."
"THIS SITUATION UNFOLDING IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA..." I realized.
It's not real. None of this is.
The water running down my face was not just the fake rain; it was the sting of my own genuine tears. "BUT IT ALL FEELS SO REAL TO ME."
And then, his voice, acting out the dramatic script, whispered close to my ear. "I ALREADY KNOW... ...I LIKE YOU TOO."
My heart hammered against his chest. I knew the scene. I knew the lines.
"...WHAT HAEDO SEONBAE'S LINE IS."
The character he was playing was supposed to be confessing. He was supposed to be saying: "I'VE LIKED YOU ALL ALONG."
I desperately clung to the hug, resting my tear-streaked face against his shoulder. "I WISH IT WAS REAL."
My tears and emotions are real. The rain is fake, the script is fiction, but the pain, the hope, the desperate need in my heart—it was all mine. And in that moment, being held tightly in the theatrical rain, I desperately wished that a tiniest bit of this was real to the person in front of me, too.
The director's voice boomed over the set, cutting through the fake rain and the raw emotion: "CUT!!"
I was still clinging to the actor playing Haedo Seonbae, my face a mess of real tears and simulated rainwater. "...JUST FOR A MOMENT." I had let myself forget the cameras, forget the crew, forget that I was only the actress.
He gently disengaged from the HUG. I
watched as he stepped back, the man in the dark suit shifting from the earnest lover to the professional actor. He smiled faintly.
"Good work. Dry yourself quick, so you don't catch a cold."
I felt a rush of warmth—a mix of professional appreciation and perhaps, a lingering echo of the fictional embrace. "REALLY...? AW... THANK YOU!" I wrapped myself in the towel a staff member handed me, trying to stop the SNIFFLEs.
Another man, beaming with excitement, rushed over. He bowed slightly. "WOW, [USER'S NAME]!! WHAT AN INSPIRED PERFORMANCE!! IT DIDN'T SEEM LIKE ACTING AT ALL. IT FELT SO REAL! GREAT JOB!"
His words were meant to be complimentary, but they only twisted the knot of real emotion in my stomach. The tears felt so real because they were.
Later, the scene shifted. I was huddled near a brick wall, still feeling the chill of the water, when the professional woman, Lisu Lee, approached me. She was still in her dark suit, holding a cigarette.
She looked at me, her sharp gaze softening with a brief flicker of what looked like regret.
"!! Seonbae...! YOU DID WELL THIS TIME." She gave me a tight, professional compliment, but I couldn't accept it without addressing the underlying truth.
I faced her, the weight of the previous disaster still heavy.
"IT WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE IF YOU HAD LET ME KNOW WHEN I TOLD YOU I LIKED HAEDO SEONBAE." My voice was small, but steady. "I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDN'T KNOW."
Lisu looked away, exhaling a plume of smoke, her expression momentarily caught in an AWKWARD silence. I watched a thought bubble form over her head. "OH, SHE MUST HAVE SEEN THE ARTICLE..."
The whole thing clicked into place: the gossip, the whispers, her cryptic question weeks ago. I remembered the disastrous moment I first realized the truth: standing before Haedo Seonbae on set, making my nervous apology, head bowed in a BOW. "...SORRY..." I remembered my naive admission: "OH! O-OH... I DIDN'T KNOW..." The memory of me clutching my ponytails and whispering, "...IF I HAD KNOWN, I'D... MUMBLE" brought fresh shame.
Lisu's eyes narrowed, her tone shifting to defensive. "WHY DID YOU LIE?"
I blinked at the accusation. I was the one lied to. But then I realized she wasn't asking me about the past. She was asking about the recent media storm surrounding Haedo Seonbae and his relationship. She must have seen the article about him and his actual girlfriend.
Lisu sighed, her eyes heavy. "Sorry, [USER'S NAME]… The truth is…"
I looked at her, then back at Haedo Seonbae, who was being tended to by a staff member. I remembered the feeling of being held in his arms, the real hope behind my acting.
I hope that he'll look at me as "I"... not just the role, not just the co-star, but me.
I clutched the towel, knowing that my heartfelt on-screen tears, the genuine emotion of a girl who felt "ALONE IN GIVING MY HEART..." even though "MY FEELINGS WERE ALWAYS GENUINE," were all for a man who belonged to someone else.
I stood there, still processing the shock of the fake rain scene and the director's applause, when Myeong's confession began.
I had just confronted her: "I was the only one who didn't know."
Myeong let out a sharp sigh, smoke curling away from her lips, her eyes widening slightly. She saw the pain on my face, the raw hurt from the misunderstanding that had led to my humiliating on-set confession—the one where I had crumpled to the ground and tearfully begged Haedo Seonbae not to leave.
I pressed her, trying to understand how such a simple work relationship had turned into this massive, complicated mess, particularly when I was already falling for Haedo Seonbae.
"SORRY, MYEONG... THE TRUTH IS... ARE YOU TWO REALLY DATING? ACTUALLY?"
My heart pounded under the puffy pink jacket. My feelings for him, the ones I'd kept bottled up—the ones that had driven me to walk across the room and timidly BOW and whisper "...SORRY..." after finding out about his supposed girlfriend—were still raging inside. I didn't know... but my feelings for Haedo Seonbae keep growing... What do I do now...?
Myeong looked genuinely surprised at the question, her eyes flashing open. "HUH? WAIT, WHAT? DATING?!"
She immediately began to deny it, throwing her hands up defensively. "...WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? IT'S TRUE I DIDN'T TELL YOU THAT WE DATED IN THE PAST, BUT... ...WE'RE NOT TOGETHER ANYMORE!"
The rush of hope was dizzying. "But Haedo Seonbae told me you were still seeing each other..." I remembered the exact moment in the dressing room when he'd implied they were still together, which led to my heartbroken realization: "...AND I WAS LEFT ALONE..."
Myeong took a long, hard look at me, her expression shifting from defensive denial to grim understanding. "OH. I GET WHAT THIS IS."
She pulled a sharp inhale, realizing the entire web of lies and assumptions that had crushed me. She must have remembered my earlier question on set: "THEN... ARE YOU STILL TOGETHER?" and her smug, professional reply: "YEAH." I had walked away that day, every STEP a tragedy, believing "I WAS ALONE IN GIVING MY HEART..."
Myeong took one last drag from her cigarette before tossing it down.
"Look, I told you we were still together because I was jealous of how close you two were becoming, and I was trying to stop whatever was happening. And Haedo Seonbae lied... to protect me."
She softened her voice, her eyes meeting mine with a heavy sincerity. "YOU DON'T HAVE TO PRETEND LIKE YOU'RE NOT, FOR MY SAKE. NO, REALLY! WE BRIEFLY DATED WHEN I WAS 20, AND THEN WE BROKE UP."
This revelation turned my world upside down. My devastating on-set confession ("I'M SORRY, MISTER. PLEASE... PLEASE DON'T GO TO HER... I REALLY, REALLY LIKE YOU, MISTER... LIAR.") had been built on a foundation of lies—her lie, and Haedo Seonbae's lie.
Myeong reached out a hand to touch my arm, her expression earnest. "WHAT?? ...ASK HIM AGAIN. I THINK HE'LL TELL YOU WHY HE LIED. AND DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY."
I stared at her, dumbfounded. The despair I felt was being replaced by a frantic confusion. Why would he protect her lie? Was there more to the story?
I quickly opened the door of the transport van, ready to SLIDE in and get to the bottom of this. I had to know the truth from him now. "?!"
I slid into the passenger seat of the van, heart hammering, and saw Haedo Seonbae already there.
"?!" I hadn't expected to find him right away. He was holding something and looking distracted, but he looked up at me, his handsome features softening.
"Oh, you're here because of that?" he asked, seeing the look of confusion and hurt on my face.
I didn't waste any time. I leaned in, clutching the edge of the seat. "IT WAS... A LIE? WHY WOULD YOU LIE LIKE THAT—?" I demanded, my voice tight.
He immediately dropped his gaze. "...I'M REALLY SORRY... I COULDN'T KEEP MY PROMISE." He reached over and pointed at the book I recognized, "The Working Girl and the Salaryman." I remembered how happy and excited I was when we first discussed it, holding the book like a treasure. "...I WAS ALONE IN MY EXCITEMENT..."
He spoke slowly, a weary look in his eyes. "Haedo Kang has always been that kind of person. When it comes to acting, he doesn't care about anyone else's feelings. That's why I didn't want to date Haedo Kang again."
I blinked, realizing he was talking about himself as a character, and Lisu as his ex-girlfriend. He had broken Lisu's heart before, likely due to his obsession with acting.
"...AND I'M SORRY I GOT MAD AT YOU... SAYING YOU WOULDN'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO WORRY ABOUT MONEY." He was apologizing for the nasty things he'd said to me in a previous confrontation, likely still in character, or using the "acting" excuse to be cruel.
But I wasn't finished with the main deception. "How could you think that I'd act better if you told that kind of lie…?" I gestured wildly, remembering my completely genuine breakdown in the fake rain scene, the one the director said felt so real. "YOU IMMERSED YOURSELF IN YOUR ACTING, THANKS TO ME." The pain in my voice was real, not acting. "...MY FEELINGS WERE ALWAYS GENUINE."
He looked away, silent for a moment. "I HOPE THAT HE'LL LOOK AT ME AS 'LISU LEE'..." I saw the thought bubble appear over his head, a moment of startling honesty where he seemed to confuse me with the character, or perhaps Lisu, reflecting the very thing Lisu had warned me about.
He looked back at me, his eyes full of a strange mixture of pity and conviction. "The kind of person who is obsessed with acting will always drag people down. If you keep going with him, you'll get swept away, unable to tell what's real and what's acting."
His voice, firm yet gentle, was a final warning, the truth behind the lie. He had lied to protect Lisu from me, or maybe, to protect me from himself. He knew his own destructive nature when it came to his career.
I sat there, frozen, realizing the true danger: "...UNABLE TO TELL WHAT'S REAL AND WHAT'S ACTING." I was already half-submerged.