CHATTER CHATTER could be heard from the building above.
I was waiting outside, when a figure emerged.
"THERE YOU ARE."
"I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU."
It was him—the man in the suit. He had a striking, almost predatory look in his eyes. (A distracting 'Warning: Virus Detected' pop-up covered the bottom of one panel.)
Suddenly, another girl appeared, looking stunned and flushed.
"HAEDO?" I asked, sensing her surprise.
"S-SEONBAE...!!" she stammered, clearly addressing the man.
The girl seemed to be the focus of the man's attention. Her eyes were wide behind her glasses, a blush spreading across her cheeks.
"HEY, HOT-TEMPERED GIRL." he said.
She looked confused. "W-WHAT...?!"
I decided to step in.
"I HAVE TO TALK TO MYEONG ALONE. CAN YOU LEAVE US?" I requested, looking at the man.
The man looked at the surprised girl, who nervously replied: "…OH…! WHAT'S THIS ABOUT?"
"OKAY…" she finally agreed.
The girl, still flustered, bowed deeply as she left.
"…THEN ENJOY YOUR TALK…!" she muttered.
Now that we were alone, I turned to the man, seeing him start to tear up dramatically.
"WHY WOULD YOU CALL HER THAT?" I asked.
"'HOT-TEMPERED GIRL'?"
The man suddenly wailed. "HEY, SHE HIT ME...!"
He continued his complaint in an exaggerated speech bubble.
"IN THE FACE, NO LESS!!"
I stared at him, unimpressed.
"YOU HAVEN'T BEEN SMACKED BY ANYONE UNTIL NOW?"
The man wiped his tears and a wide, unsettling grin spread across his face.
"THAT'S SURPRISING."
"EVERYONE FORGIVES ME ONCE THEY SEE THIS FACE."
He paused, his golden eyes gleaming.
"EXCEPT YOU…"
The man leaned in, his smirk unsettling.
"YOU'RE RIDICULOUS… WHY DID YOU LIE TO LISU AND TELL HER WE WERE DATING?" I demanded.
"MAYBE IT WAS WISHFUL THINKING?" he replied, raising a brow.
I gave him an intense GLARE.
He pulled back slightly.
"…I'M JOKING…" he murmured.
He sighed dramatically. "YOU KNOW ME… WAY BACK WHEN, FOR A SIMILAR REASON, I TREATED YOU BADLY, BROKE UP WITH YOU, THEN TRIED TO CLING ON TO YOU AGAIN…"
"…AND THEN I WENT TO THE ARMY." he finished, almost casually.
I nodded. "YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT."
"BUT YOU USED ME THIS TIME, SO LET'S CALL IT EVEN." he declared.
I looked at him, completely taken aback. "…HUH?"
Ignoring my confusion, his face darkened slightly, the smirk replaced by a piercing look.
"THE PHOTO." he stated, changing the subject sharply. "WHO'S THE PUNK THAT LEAKED IT?"
He let out a tired yawn, leaning back against the wall.
"IT GAVE ME GOOSEBUMPS, BUT I'M GIVING YOU A PASS, BECAUSE OF YOUR FACE." he conceded.
I forced a small smile. "…THANKS. I'LL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING SOMEDAY…"
We stood in silence for a moment.
"I'M SURE WE'LL SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN, RIGHT?" he asked. "WE'RE BOUND TO RUN INTO EACH OTHER IN THIS INDUSTRY."
"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NEXT?" I asked, looking at his expensive shoes.
"I DON'T KNOW. RIGHT NOW, I'M WORKING ON A MOVIE."
He gave me a hearty, if somewhat mocking, laugh.
"WOW, ALREADY? YOU'RE DOING PRETTY WELL, MYEONG."
I couldn't help but laugh back slightly, despite his comment.
"YOU THINK YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE? HAHAHA."
The man looked away, speaking with a touch of melancholy.
"I'M ALWAYS RUNNING FORWARD WITHOUT A MOMENT TO STOP."
"ONTO THE NEXT SHOOT, AND THEN THE NEXT SHOOT."
I watched him, a hint of sadness in my eyes.
"BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS HAD SOMEONE WITH YOU." I thought to myself.
He continued, his expression thoughtful.
"ON DAYS LIKE THIS, IT'S A LITTLE DIFFERENT."
"LOOKING AT THE WAY I RUN LIKE CRAZY ALL BY MYSELF, I FEEL LIKE A FOOL."
He extended a hand, as if reaching for something intangible.
"BUT WE ALL GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS AFTER IT'S OVER."
"ALL THAT REMAINS IS THE PROJECT."
A flicker of his usual confidence returned as he smiled.
"OF COURSE, I CAN KEEP DOING THIS BECAUSE IT'S FUN."
"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO LOSE OUT TO THE OTHERS CHASING AFTER ME."
He glanced at me, a more vulnerable look in his eyes than usual.
"WHENEVER I FINISH A PROJECT, I FEEL SOMEWHAT EMPTY."
"WHEN WE'RE IN IT, EVERYONE FUSSES OVER THE PROJECT TOGETHER…"
"I LIVE FOR THIS STUFF."
"BUT…"
"EVERYTHING ELSE, ALL THE ENERGY POURED INTO IT, SEEMS TO GET DISPERSED INTO THIN AIR."
"WE MEET EACH OTHER, THEN GO OUR OWN WAYS. MEET, AND THEN LEAVE."
He turned back to me, a faint, almost wistful smile.
"…SOMEDAY, THIS WILL END TOO, RIGHT?"
A moment of quiet passed between us, the city lights blurring in the background. He looked at me again, his smile fading into a thoughtful expression.
"WOULDN'T IT BE MORE FUN TO RUN WITH EVERYONE? I THINK THAT SOMETIMES."
"THAT'S WHY I ADMIRED YOU."
The man looked away, speaking with a touch of melancholy.
"I'M ALWAYS RUNNING FORWARD WITHOUT A MOMENT TO STOP. ONTO THE NEXT SHOOT, AND THEN THE NEXT SHOOT."
I watched him, a hint of sadness in my eyes. The thought came unbidden:
"BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS HAD SOMEONE WITH YOU."
He continued, his expression thoughtful.
"ON DAYS LIKE THIS, IT'S A LITTLE DIFFERENT. LOOKING AT THE WAY I RUN LIKE CRAZY ALL BY MYSELF, I FEEL LIKE A FOOL."
He extended a hand, as if reaching for something intangible.
"BUT WE ALL GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS AFTER IT'S OVER. ALL THAT REMAINS IS THE PROJECT."
A flicker of his usual confidence returned as he smiled.
"OF COURSE, I CAN KEEP DOING THIS BECAUSE IT'S FUN. BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO LOSE OUT TO THE OTHERS CHASING AFTER ME."
"I LIVE FOR THIS STUFF. BUT… WHENEVER I FINISH A PROJECT, I FEEL SOMEWHAT EMPTY. WHEN WE'RE IN IT, EVERYONE FUSSES OVER THE PROJECT TOGETHER… EVERYTHING ELSE, ALL THE ENERGY POURED INTO IT, SEEMS TO GET DISPERSED INTO THIN AIR."
"WE MEET EACH OTHER, THEN GO OUR OWN WAYS. MEET, AND THEN LEAVE."
He turned back to me, a faint, almost wistful smile.
"…SOMEDAY, THIS WILL END TOO, RIGHT?"
A moment of quiet passed. He looked at me, a thoughtful expression replacing his smile.
"WOULDN'T IT BE MORE FUN TO RUN WITH EVERYONE? I THINK THAT SOMETIMES. THAT'S WHY I ADMIRED YOU."
He suddenly covered his face with his hands and let out a frustrated sound.
"AAHHH! WHAT AM I SAYING RIGHT NOW? SLUMP."
He lowered one hand just enough to peek out, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
"MY CHARACTER THIS TIME AROUND IS PRETTY EMOTIONAL. MAYBE THAT'S WHY I'M BEING LIKE THIS."
He covered his face again, looking completely flustered.
"HAEDO."
He spoke through his fingers, unable to look at me.
"YOU GO BACK INSIDE, MYEONG. I'M TOO EMBARRASSED RIGHT NOW, SO I'LL JOIN YOU LATER."
I stood there, watching him, a small smile forming on my face.
He peeked up at me, his eyes wide. I spoke slowly and clearly.
"FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH… I THINK THE ACTOR HAEDO KANG IS PRETTY COOL."
His head snapped up, and he flashed a huge, blinding smile.
"SMILE. I LIKE YOU TOO, MYEONG."
My own smile widened, gentle and sincere.
"AS AN ACTOR."
The scene shifted to an interior shot, indicating a passage of time or a final reflection.
MY FIRST DRAMA SHOOT WAS OVER.
TO BE ABLE TO WALK OUT OF A CAVE AND FINALLY SHOW MYSELF OFF AFTER SO LONG…
MY FIRST DRAMA SHOOT WAS OVER.
(The panel shows a group sitting around a table, documents spread out, perhaps a production meeting or initial read-through.)
TO BE ABLE TO WALK OUT OF A CAVE AND FINALLY SHOW MYSELF OFF AFTER SO LONG… WAS A FIRST STEP I'D BEEN ANXIOUS AND EXCITED ABOUT.
(The image shows me, smiling genuinely.)
WITH A FRESH START, I HAD EXPECTED ATTENTION TO SHINE DOWN ON ME LIKE SUNLIGHT… BUT IF I'M BEING HONEST, IT WAS PRETTY DISAPPOINTING.
(A small image depicts me hiking to a mountain peak.)
IN TRUTH, THE PLACE I HAD CLAWED MY WAY UP TO… WAS JUST THE STARTING POINT FOR A LONG, UPWARD JOURNEY…
(A dramatic, cracked mountain looms high, with me at the base.)
(The image switches to a newspaper clipping about Haedo Kang, the actor I was just speaking to, labeled "Beautiful Guy.")
…AND THE PUBLIC'S ATTENTION WAS HEADED STRAIGHT TOWARDS THE TOP.
(The image shifts to a clipping about Haedo's dramatic performance, and then to a new girl, Lily, crying in the rain, with a headline "LILY STUNS WITH IMPROVED ACTING PERFORMANCE IN THE RAIN".)
TO THE AUDIENCE, I WAS AN UNFAMILIAR ACTOR WHO WAS ON THE RECEIVING END OF AN IDOL'S TERRIBLE ACTING…
(The image shows the anxious girl from the first scene, Haedo, and another woman.)
…AND THOUGH I BRIEFLY GOT NOTICED… …THROUGH A SCANDAL WITH A TOP ACTOR…
This seems to be the conclusion of the flashback/monologue, suggesting that the initial "scandal" with Haedo Kang was the main source of the publicity I received.
…I WAS SOON FORGOTTEN… …AS LILY'S ACTING IMPROVED IMMENSELY WITH EACH EPISODE.
(The image focuses on a dark, star-filled sky.)
JUST AS A LIGHT THAT SHINES BRIGHTLY IN THE DARKNESS… …SHIMMERS FAINTLY IN A BRIGHT PLACE…
(The image shows a warm interior where I am sitting with friends, smiling, as if at a gathering.)
(The image shows me taking a drink from a shot glass.)
WHY CAN'T I REACH THE TOP OVERNIGHT, LIKE A CERTAIN SOMEONE?
(The image focuses on a phone screen showing a celebrity gossip article: "From Idol to Actor—Working Girl and the Salaryman's Finale Party" over a picture of the crying girl, Lily.)
OR MAYBE THAT PERSON DIDN'T GET TO THE TOP OVERNIGHT. WHAT I LEARNED FROM BEING ABLE TO SEE THE SUMMIT A LITTLE CLOSER IS…
(The image shows me looking thoughtful, phone in hand.)
…THE ROAD AHEAD… …IS A ROCK WALL THAT'S TOUGHER AND STEEPER THAN I THOUGHT.
The narrative ends on a note of sober self-reflection, contrasting the rapid rise of others with the hard reality of my own career path.
This concludes the story sequence provided by the images. It was a journey through a celebrity scandal, a complicated past relationship, and the struggles of climbing the entertainment industry's ladder.
I traced the cold edge of the whiskey glass, the amber liquid a mirror reflecting the harsh, garish lights of the wrap party. It was a victory party, yet the sweetness of success felt brittle, temporary. I, Myeong, the actress whose very name means "Fame," had just finished my role in Working Girl and the Salaryman's Finale Party—the very headline I saw flash across my phone screen: "From Idol to Actor—Working Girl and the Salaryman's Finale Party."
What I learned from being able to see the summit a little closer is... that the glittering height I once admired from the ground is a fortress.
...is a rock wall that's tougher and steeper than I thought.
I had tasted a glimpse of the top, the kind of fame that shimmers faintly in a bright place... (as seen in the brief, genuine smile I shared with a colleague across the table). Yet, the satisfaction was fleeting, replaced by a bitter, familiar envy.
I took a sharp sip of the alcohol, the burn a welcome distraction from the buzzing questions in my head: Why can't I reach the top overnight, like a certain someone?
That certain someone. My mind immediately conjured an image—a private moment, a shared, intimate gaze with a rival, a fellow climber on this ruthless mountain. Was their path paved with effortless grace, or was it a secret pact made in the dark, a clandestine kiss with opportunity, an embrace against a brick wall, hidden from the public eye?
Or maybe that...
I put the glass down, watching the bubbles settle. The thought was a sudden, sobering wave. Or maybe that person didn't get to the top overnight. Maybe the mountain only looked like a beautiful, climbable slope from the base.
The truth was, from afar, I just thought it looked like a beautiful mountain.
I looked down at the phone still clutched in my hand, the notification already a ghost of excitement. The road stretched out before me—long, shadowed, and perilous. The road ahead wasn't a gentle ascent; it was a climb of relentless effort, sacrifice, and endless competition, demanding a muse not of others, but of my own unwavering will.
The journey was mine. It was my story. It was MUSE ON FAME, a testament to the fact that the struggle is the art.