Like the title suggests, the story is about two women.
When kind, but unattractive Beomhui meets beautiful, but trashy Bomi... her life is turned upside down.
And I...
...got the role of pretty, but trashy Bomi, whose charms will be on display throughout the whole movie.
I shut the script, the title "Two Women" printed starkly on the cover.
I thought of you when I read this part.
"People who passed by Bomi always did a double-take," the script read, "So they could see her beauty one more time."
You'll look so beautiful when filming begins.
This is it. My chance to be the one who makes everyone stop and stare. My beauty is Bomi's beauty, and the world is finally going to see it.
Yena pov
We sat across the table, the script for Two Women between us, a flimsy boundary against years of resentment.
I smiled, leaning forward slightly. "Remember how everyone used to stare at you and try to get your number when you'd walk down the street? I was right next to you, but I thought I was invisible or something."
The silence stretched. I watched your expression, a slight change in the set of your jaw.
"Do you still get those looks these days?" I asked, a hint of something sharp in my tone.
You just said, "Oh."
I pressed on. "You're so popular these days, there's no way people don't look at you. How do you feel, now that you're famous? Did it help with your anger?"
You finally looked up at me, your voice tight. "Why are you mad at me? I haven't done anything to you, as far as I know."
I scoffed. "Mad? You think I'm mad at you? Of course not. I like you so much. Why would I work with someone I don't like?" I tapped the script.
Then, the smile faded. "I think we just had some bad luck."
My eyes narrowed. "Of all the men out there, why did we have to love the same person?"
Your composure finally cracked. Your eyes widened, and you looked genuinely surprised.
"What?" you whispered.
I leaned in, delivering the final blow. "Do you still love Hyeonjae?"
I smiled, a calculated, wide smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Mad? You think I'm mad at you? Of course not. I like you so much. Why would I work with someone I don't like?" I tapped the script again.
"I think we just had some bad luck," I said, the playful tone suddenly gone, replaced by something cold.
I looked directly into your surprised eyes. "Of all the men out there, why did we have to love the same person? Why are you mad at me? I haven't done anything to you, as far as I know."
You looked genuinely shocked. "What?"
I pressed the attack, enjoying the sudden loss of your composure. "Do you still love Hyeonjae?"
You couldn't look away, your surprise turning into a defensive glare. I could see you retreating behind that old, smug mask.
I watched your silence. "...you're trying really," I leaned closer, my voice a quiet purr, "...you're trying really hard, huh? Right?"
You looked at me, a tight, thin smile forming. "...What would you know? To act like you're too good for love."
The barb hit, but I wouldn't let it show. Instead, I just widened my smile until it became a triumphant, unrepentant grin.
"I won't apologize," I stated, the smile cementing itself on my face, a final, beautiful defiance. I wouldn't apologize for being Bomi, for wanting Hyeonjae, or for finally
having the attention I deserved.
The silence was thick, toxic. I glared at you from across the table. "Because if you think about it, I liked him first. Before you did."
You muttered under your breath, a cruel twist to your mouth. "Crazy b*tch..."
She's out of her mind. I caught the word, but pretended I hadn't. I didn't need to respond; the victory was already mine.
KNOCK KNOCK
The sound was a relief, a sudden, welcome disruption.
The door opened. "DIRECTOR WOO!" I shouted with a pitch of forced excitement, jumping to my feet.
The Director stumbled a little as he entered. "Sorry I'm late. There was traffic-"
I rushed over, embracing him in an overly familiar way. "I MISSED YOUUUU!" I clung to his arm. "Oh, you brought coffee!"
"Oh, yeah," he mumbled, looking flustered.
I took the cup he held out. "WOW! Caramel Macchiato, my favorite! You're the best, Director Woo!" I gave him an extra-sweet smile, letting my happiness be known.
What's even more ridiculous... is that I jumped into this situation voluntarily. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I was loving it.
He then turned to you. "I got you one too, I"-he paused, remembering the name.
You were still sitting, quietly taking the regular coffee he offered you. "...Thanks," you said softly, your eyes distant.
I smirked. She can have him. It wasn't about the coffee. It was about seeing you accept the scraps.
I tugged on the Director's hand. "Sit next to me!" I motioned to the empty chair right next to mine, ensuring I had full possession of his attention.
Like the title suggests, Two Women is about two women. When kind, but unattractive Beomhui meets beautiful, but trashy Bomi... her life is turned upside down.
And I...
...got the role of pretty, but trashy Bomi, whose charms will be on display throughout the whole movie.
I shut the script. "I thought of you when I read this part. 'People who passed by Bomi always did a double-take. So they could see her beauty one more time.' You'll look so beautiful when filming begins." I smiled, a secret blooming behind my lips.
The Director looked nervous, hovering by the table. I had pulled him to sit next to me, giving you the cold shoulder.
You finally spoke, your voice smooth and polite to the Director. "Here. You should sit in the middle."
He hesitated. "Oh..."
I watched your perfect, practiced expression. A slight creak sound effect seemed to accompany your small, forced smile.
"Oh! Y-Yeah," he stammered, unsure where to look.
He didn't know the battle that was raging just across the table from him, or maybe he simply didn't care. As I sipped my caramel macchiato, I thought:
I'm just trying to crush her before she can crush me.
This wasn't about a script or a role anymore.
I looked at your face. We're going to fight each other in this place, ignoring why we're here... until we're bleeding and covered in wounds. We're not fighting over a prize here.
A few days later, on set. The scene was an alleyway, covered in camera equipment.
"DIRECTOR WOO," I heard someone say.
He turned, wiping sweat from his brow. I watched as he smiled, oblivious to everything. "Thank you for your hard work," he said to one of the staff.
I knew the game we were playing was far more brutal than anything they would capture on camera.

The first day of the shoot arrived.
The alleyway was dingy, exactly right for the scene. I stood there, dressed as Bomi in a loose jacket and short dress.
In the first scene we're shooting, Bomi dances wildly in an alleyway. I have to dance in the street, with no music or stage.
I'm nervous to act out such a complex scene for my first shoot... I pop a pink lollipop into my mouth. The sweet rush helps calm my nerves.
But there's no scene that depicts Bomi better.
People who passed by Bomi always did a double-take. So they could see her beauty one more time.
I know this is the scene that will solidify my fame. The scene where I embody the character I was born to play: the pretty, trashy Bomi, whose charms will be on display throughout the whole movie.
I hear Director Woo's frantic voice nearby, and another voice, smooth and deep.
"I'm sure it's hectic because it's your first shoot. I've prepared some coffee. Please enjoy."
The Director, looking stressed, takes a cup. "Oh... Thank you..."
"Please take good care of I today," the new man says, bowing slightly.
"Oh, really, this isn't necessary..." The Director looked completely flustered, holding his hands up.
"Then excuse me."
The man turns to leave. He's wearing a sleek black suit, with striking white hair. He's handsome, cold, and carries an air of intense wealth.
Director Woo watched him go, then muttered to himself, "I... will she be alright?"
He was talking about you, the other actor. I frowned, pushing the lollipop to the side of my mouth. Why was he worried about her? And who was that man? He certainly wasn't Hyeonjae.
I took a deep breath, stepping into the middle of the gritty alley. Time to dance. Time to show everyone that I was the star, both on and off the screen.
I finished the dance, a messy, frantic release of energy that left me breathless in the middle of the grimy alleyway.
"CUT!" Director Woo shouted, sounding genuinely impressed. "I really like it! The movement was great, but the way you captured Bomi's emptiness... that was perfect."
I beamed, taking a deep gulp of air. I looked over at you, the other actor. You were standing by the monitors, your expression unreadable, though I could swear I saw a flicker of something sharp in your eyes. Envy? Or just professional critique? I didn't care. The Director liked my work.
"Bomi needs to be a force of nature," I said, wiping sweat from my brow, "a mess that you still can't look away from."
I was interrupted by the sudden sound of a luxury car pulling up. A black sedan with tinted windows.
The mysterious man from earlier-the one who brought the coffee-stepped out. I watched as he strode confidently towards the Director.
"Oh! Young Master! What are you doing here?" Director Woo asked, clearly surprised.
"I just stopped by because I heard the filming started," the man said, his eyes scanning the set, resting on me for just a moment before moving on. "I wanted to make sure everything was running smoothly."
He walked right past me and stopped right next to you. I felt a sudden, cold prickle of intuition. Why is he paying attention to her?
Then, he addressed you with a gentle politeness that made my teeth clench. "Myeong, I told you not to overdo it for the first day." He looked back at the Director, his brow furrowed. "Director Woo, please make sure you take care of her."
The Director stammered, "Oh, yes! Of course! I will!"
I gripped the lollipop stick in my hand. Myeong... So that's her actual name, or at least the name the Director uses. And this "Young Master" was clearly here for her, not for the production. He was her protector, her keeper.
You just smiled softly and nodded at the Young Master. It was the quiet, serene look I remembered from years ago-the one that always drove me mad.
I thought about the conversation I had with you a few days ago.
I'm just trying to crush her before she can crush me.
Now, standing here, covered in fake grime and sweat, watching your cool composure and the attention of a rich, handsome stranger, I realized the stakes had just been raised. I had to destroy you, completely, on screen and off, before you could use your perfect life and your perfect protector to destroy mine.
I threw the lollipop stick onto the ground, the pink mess of it a small, petty piece of trash in the dirty alley.
"Director Woo!" I called out, forcing a bright, professional energy back into my voice. "I'm ready for the next shot! Let's go again!"
The question was why yena is also playing bomi character?
I watched her face morph, the shift immediate and terrifying.
In the first moment, her eyes were wide, dark pools of kohl and mascara, fixed on something just beyond my shoulder. A sliver of fear-or was it sheer, unadulterated surprise?-pulled her lips apart, leaving the silent, inarticulate thought hanging above her head like a damning accusation: "...!!!" It was a silent scream, a moment of profound vulnerability that, for a split second, made the high-contrast drama of her dark makeup and lace-up choker seem like a costume slipping off. I felt a confusing pang of something akin to worry for her.
Then, the mask slammed back into place.
The wide-eyed look evaporated, replaced by a slow, predator-like grin that sent a cold shiver down my spine. The darkness around her eyes wasn't vulnerable anymore; it was an invitation to the chaos lurking beneath. Her tongue flicked out, a brief, sharp, unsettling gesture that felt both taunting and utterly unhinged. She tilted her head, the heavy waves of her dark hair shifting, and let out a soft, breathy sound that was less a laugh and more a statement of intent: "Heh."
I watched her, heart thrumming against my ribs, and the single, undeniable truth hammered into my brain with sickening clarity. The shock of her initial reaction was meaningless now. It had just been a brief pause before the plunge.
I thought, and I had to accept it: She really is a crazy b*tch.
And I knew, deep down, that this was the moment everything changed. I was staring straight into the eyes of beautiful, dangerous trouble, and I was absolutely, helplessly caught.