I had delivered the fatal blow, a casual yet savage critique of her entire career.
"YOU WANNA KNOW WHY YOU WERE AN UNKNOWN ACTOR? You were cherry-picking roles you could look pretty in, so you can pretend like you're cute."
SLAP
I slapped her across her cheek making her cheek to red .
I watched her face crumble. I could already see the tears welling up, threatening to ruin her delicate makeup. MAN… The sight only hardened my resolve. Standing there in the fading light of that dump, THAT'S WHAT I DECIDED IN THAT MOMENT.
She didn't just cry, though. She met my gaze, fire sparking behind the water in her eyes. "I'M WILLING TO LET THIS GET AS MESSY AS IT NEEDS TO."
Messy? I thought. She had no idea what that word meant. She was still trying to maintain some semblance of tragic dignity.
"CRAZY B*TCHES DESERVE CRAZY THINGS," I muttered, feeling the heat rise in my own chest. She was out of line, thinking she could defy me.
And then, before either of us could register the action, my hand lashed out. The sharp, sickening sound of the slap cut through the silence. I watched as her head snapped back, the crimson mark blooming instantly on her cheek.
She looked at me, pure shock replacing the defiance. "DID YOU JUST HIT ME…?"
A part of me recoiled, not in regret, but in annoyance. This whole scene was becoming too loud, too visible. "…THAT WAS POOR JUDGMENT ON MY PART," I replied curtly, though the apology felt like ash on my tongue.
I put my hand to my own burning cheek, a strange reaction to the contact. "F*CK…" I muttered under my breath. The arrogance, the nerve of her trying to fight back! I looked at her with renewed scorn. "YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR MIND…"
Before I could finish the thought, a furious man in a sharp suit—her wealthy benefactor, I assumed—was at her side, grabbing her shoulder.
"DID SHE JUST SLAP YOU?!" he barked, his eyes flashing with fury. Yena quickly lowered her gaze, playing the part of the wounded victim perfectly. "I-I'M OKAY…" she lied.
The man turned his full, booming attention on me. "WHAT THE HELL'S WRONG WITH YOU? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SHE'S WORTH? HOW DARE YOU LAY A FINGER ON HER?"
Even Yena seemed to realize he was going too far. I heard her small, plaintive voice trying to de-escalate the scene. "SIR, I'M ALRIGHT… PLEASE STOP… SOB…"
The man was relentless, yelling directly at me. "YOU'RE A TOTAL WACKO, AREN'T YOU? YOU THINK YOU'RE ENTITLED TO THIS ROLE?"
Suddenly, a new voice cut in, frantic and nervous—the director, I recognized, the one who had clearly already picked Yena's side. "WE GAVE YOU A FAIR SHOT TO SHOOT YOUR SCENE! APOLOGIZE TO YENA, NOW!"
I stood rigid as they circled me, defending Yena. The scene was playing out exactly as it should have, a classic drama of the victim being defended by her patrons. I watched the director fuss over her, and the cynical clarity returned.
HOW IS IT THAT THIS MAN IS DOING EXACTLY WHAT YENA WANTS?
Yena, the so-called "unknown actor," had manufactured a public scandal that painted her as a saint and me as a dangerous madwoman. She looked up at me, a dangerous mix of triumph and theatrical distress on her face. "SAY SOMETHING! AREN'T YOU GOING TO APOLOGIZE?"
I saw the game clearly now. MAYBE I REACTED THE SAME WAY SHE WANTED ME TO. My rashness, my slap—it was the moment she had been waiting for.
I felt the last vestiges of my rage cool into a cold, hard certainty.
WELL, I WON'T GIVE IN.
They could demand apologies, they could call me names, but I would not yield the victory she so desperately craved. I looked out into the distance, tasting the metallic tang of battle.
…NO, I DON'T WANT TO.
I stood my ground, refusing to budge or offer the apology she craved. "WELL, I WON'T GIVE IN."
I held her gaze, a silent battle waged while her patrons demanded my surrender. The answer was solid in my mind: "…NO, I DON'T WANT TO."
The older man exploded. "WHAT?! YOU!" His face was purple with disbelief and rage.
That's when he arrived. Manager Eun, with his shock of white hair and a look of cold, professional resignation, stepped smoothly between me and the screaming crowd. I watched him take control, his voice calm and authoritative, instantly draining the chaos from the scene.
"IT APPEARS THAT M—," he paused, correcting himself instantly, his gaze flicking to me, "I GOT TOO IMMERSED IN HER ROLE, AND ACTED SPORADICALLY."
He wasn't excusing me, he was creating a viable, corporate explanation: a passionate mistake. He turned toward Yena and the older man. "I APOLOGIZE ON HER BEHALF."
His apology was ice-cold, perfectly measured, and utterly humiliating to me. But it worked. It took the wind right out of the older man's sails.
Eun focused on Yena, his expression grave. "IS YOUR CHEEK ALRIGHT?"
The older man, still bristling, stepped forward to show off the damage. "CAN'T YOU SEE THAT IT'S SWOLLEN, THANKS TO HER?"
Eun didn't argue. Instead, he pulled out a pristine handkerchief and what looked like a sealed ice cup. "HERE'S A HANDKERCHIEF AND ICE CUP. IT SHOULD HELP IN COOLING DOWN THE HEAT."
Yena, for the first time, looked genuinely stunned. She had orchestrated rage, but not competence or a professional response. She mumbled something small and barely audible. I realized it was an apology, snatched from her in surprise.
I watched Manager Eun bow slightly, cementing the professional defeat of my momentary outburst. "YENA. SIR. I APOLOGIZE ONCE AGAIN FOR THE DISRESPECTFUL BEHAVIOR."
He didn't wait for a response. He simply turned his shoulder slightly, a clear signal for me to move. "WE'LL GET GOING."
The older man seemed deflated, the immediate conflict resolved by Eun's cool intervention. "FINE, MANAGER EUN, TELL DIRECTOR BAEK TO CALL ME."
Without a word, I turned and followed Eun, leaving the shouting, the tears, and the pathetic scene behind. My cheek still burned with residual anger, but the slap was no longer my biggest problem. My biggest problem was the silver-haired man walking silently beside me, already cleaning up my mess.
Eun yuhan ?
"I understand. It won't happen again."
The words tasted like a promise I might not keep, but I knew I had to mean them. The look in Manager Eun's eyes was the only real threat in the entire situation.
We found a secluded loading dock away from the filming area. The setting sun cast long, weary shadows across the brick walls. I sank onto a discarded wooden pallet, the harsh reality of my impulsive action finally settling in.
"THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME," I finally said. I looked at the ground, unable to meet his gaze. "I'M NOT..." I paused, finding the right words, "I'M NOT SURE WHAT I WAS THINKING EARLIER. MY HEAD WENT BLANK…".
It was a half-truth. My head hadn't been blank; it had been furious. But admitting that now would only solidify his perception of me as a liability.
Eun remained standing, his stance immaculate. He didn't offer comfort or sympathy. He simply regarded me with the cold, assessing look of a businessman appraising an investment.
"You let Yena's pettiness dictate your response," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "That is a weakness she can exploit. She pushed you to that point, and you gave her exactly what she wanted: a dramatic scandal to distract from her lack of talent."
I straightened up, clutching the rough wood of the pallet. "But you countered it. Director Woo will make a decision now, right?"
"Director Woo will make a decision I told him to make," Eun corrected sharply. "And I told him to make it quickly, ON WHO WILL PLAY BOMII."
He stepped toward me, forcing me to look up into his cold, silver eyes. "Your job is to ensure my threat to him—the threat of losing our backing—is worth it. Your performance must be impeccable. There can be no more 'sporadic' actions."
The message was clear: The fight was still mine to win, but if I slipped up again, he wouldn't just clean up the mess—he would cut the cord.
"I understand," I replied, the new vow firm and cold inside me. Yena wanted messy? I would deliver. But next time, the chaos would be controlled, deliberate, and entirely in my favor.
I sat on the wooden pallet, the anger of the confrontation slowly giving way to a weary, anxious clarity. Manager Eun stood over me, his presence dominating the cramped loading dock.
I met his gaze, the words tumbling out in a rush of self-reproach. "THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME." I trailed off, searching for the right admission. "I'M NOT SURE WHAT I WAS THINKING EARLIER. MY HEAD WENT BLANK..."
Eun didn't look convinced, but he didn't interrupt either. I felt a fleeting, perverse satisfaction I knew he would disapprove of. "I DO FEEL KIND OF BETTER AFTER TEACHING HER A LESSON, THOUGH." I was still defiant, even in my confession. "I COULDN'T JUST TAKE IT LAYING DOWN FOREVER..."
He knelt slightly, his expression softening only to address the tear tracks running down my face. He pulled a fresh, checkered handkerchief from his sleeve and gently wiped away my smudged eyeliner.
"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT," he stated, the words quiet but firm. "THERE'S NO REASON TO STIR UP GOSSIP ON FILM SETS, WHERE THERE ARE LOTS OF PEOPLE WATCHING."
I looked up at him, a childish plea escaping me. "...BUT IT WAS GOOD THAT I DID THAT, RIGHT?"
The answer was immediate, devoid of any comfort. "NO."
He rose, placing the handkerchief back in his pocket. "It created unnecessary complications. ON TOP OF THAT, THE CEO OF THE PRODUCTION AGENCY WAS THERE." He rubbed his temples, a sign of his rare stress. "WE'LL TRY TO RECOVER FROM TODAY'S INCIDENT AS BEST WE CAN... starting with ensuring Director Woo gets the message I gave him."
He paused, letting the weight of the moment settle on me. "Your talent is the only thing that justifies this. You have to be better than she is in every way. Now, control your temper, and focus on Bomi."
There's no reason to stir up gossip on film sets, where there are lots of people watching. On top of that, the CEO of the production agency was there. I know he was trying to protect me, trying to manage the fallout.
"We'll try to recover from today's incident as best we can... but this kind of thing can never happen again, if you want to win this fight."
Manager Eun's candid words broke me free from Bomi's spell. The shock of the incident, his harsh yet necessary warning—it all hit me at once. I'm sorry. That was careless of me. I realized in that moment that I was the one who had made the bigger mistake. The one who learned a lesson was me.
I had been so excited about the project, too... But I needed to accept responsibility. "No need to apologize to me," he said, but his expression was firm, letting me know the severity of my actions. It would be best for you to apologize to Yena privately.
I felt the shame creep up my throat. I'm embarrassed. And ashamed...
I looked up at him, unable to hide the regret in my eyes. He smiled, a genuine, gentle smile that made my heart flutter despite the seriousness of the situation.
"But... I thought you were really cool."
Later
I was sitting in the folding chair, the cool night air around me, feeling utterly exposed. My manager, his white hair gleaming softly in the distant industrial lights, crouched beside me, one hand resting reassuringly on my knee. His presence was an anchor in my swirling embarrassment.
From a distance, two figures stood observing us. One was a very stylish young woman with a straight fringe and a choker—a different version of the girl I saw myself as, maybe the one who was perfect for the spotlight. She stood next to an older man, distinguished and severe, his expression impossible to read as he adjusted the flamboyant silk scarf around his neck. They were an imposing pair.
I stood up, adjusting my black blazer, and we approached the group. My manager stood protectively at my side. I recognized the older man and the younger one with the glasses and scruffy beard—this was clearly the decisive moment. The director—the man with the rugged face and the small stitching scars on his chin—looked directly at me.
The tension was palpable. My heart pounded, knowing what was about to be decided. The film set, the whole production, the dream—it all hung on this moment.
The director cleared his throat, his gaze piercing. His mouth barely moved as the words came out, slow and deliberate, sealing the fate of the entire project, and mine.
"The role of Bomi will go to..."