The tension was palpable even as Yena prepared to leave. The older executive, her obvious backer, offered a parting shot of forced grace: "BEST OF LUCK ON THE REST OF YOUR SHOOT, MYEONG... SEE YOU AROUND."
He walked away, leaving Yena to face me. She turned to me, a smirk playing on her lips.
"YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO PLAY BOMI, YENA," I reminded her, my tone light but pointed, echoing her earlier outburst.
She met my gaze with a calculated, dismissive air, a dark glint in her eyes. "NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, BOMY LOOKS A BIT CHEAP, SO I DON'T WANT IT." It was a spiteful attempt to save face, but I saw right through it.
She smiled then, a wide, challenging grin that never reached her eyes. It was pure spite wrapped in sugar. "SMILE... TRY NOT TO GET YOUR ROLES MIXED UP. :)"
"OH, COME ON," I countered, my voice barely above a whisper.
"PFFT," she exhaled, rolling her eyes. "OF COURSE NOT." She gave a mocking little laugh, "HEHE." She turned to walk away, but not before delivering one last, lingering, insincere farewell.
"...YEAH. NEXT TIME..." she said, her smile fading just enough to reveal the true malice underneath.
I watched her walk past. Her composed facade wavered for a split second, and I saw a flash of raw, unadulterated rage in her eyes before she quickly composed herself and walked out. The full weight of the rivalry crashed down on me.
I sighed, moving toward a nearby counter where a glass of ice stood ready. I poured a measure of amber liquid over the cubes. (POUR) The clinking of the ice was the only sound for a moment.
The crew was busy resetting the scene, oblivious to the silent war that had just concluded. I overheard the director's comment to the staff: "AND IT LOOKS LIKE THE FIRST SCENE WENT WELL, THANKS TO THEM, SO..."
But for me, Myeong, the drama was far from over. This was the industry, and winning the role only meant that the real battle had just begun.
The stinging words of Myeong, and the executives' decision, left a bitter taste in my mouth. I tried to maintain a cool demeanor as I walked away, but inside, a storm raged. The subtle, knowing glance from Myeong as she passed was like a fresh stab.
I found my way to the counter, my hand already reaching for the glass. The earlier pretense of disinterest was gone, replaced by a raw need to drown out the humiliation. I filled the glass again, the sound of the liquid pouring (POUR) echoing in the sudden silence of my mind.
Then, with a desperate gulp, I brought the glass to my lips, chugging the amber liquid in quick, desperate swallows. (GLUG, GLUG) It burned, but it wasn't enough to numb the furious resentment building within me. My cheeks flushed, not from the drink, but from the humiliation.
My teeth ground together (GRIT), a silent scream of frustration. The glass in my hand felt suddenly fragile, a mirror to my own shattering composure. My grip tightened, knuckles white. There was a sharp (CLACK) as I slammed the glass down, a little too hard.
Suddenly, a concerned voice cut through my internal turmoil. "I HEARD SOMETHING BREAK...!!" It was a production assistant, a kind-faced woman with short hair. Her eyes were wide with worry as she approached. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!"
She reached out, her hand extended. "GIVE ME YOUR HAND, LET ME SEE IF YOU'RE HURT--"
But I recoiled, my control snapping. The fragile glass, unable to withstand the pressure of my rage, **(SHATTER)**ed into a million pieces. The sound was deafening, a visceral representation of my crumbling resolve.
My face twisted, a mask of pure, unadulterated fury and despair. (!@%^*#) The shards of glass lay scattered, glinting menacingly on the countertop. I could feel the cold, hard glint of Myeong's eyes on me from across the room, and I knew she had seen my breakdown. She even had the audacity to let out a small, mocking laugh. "HEHE."
I could still feel the lingering burn of her gaze as I stared at the broken glass, a stark symbol of my defeat. This was far from over.

The casting results echoed in my mind: "...MYEONG YU."
I remember the look of shock on my own face, standing next to the old executive who backed me. The director, Woo, had been firm: "MYEONG WILL PLAY BOMY. THIS DECISION WASN'T BASED ON MY INDIVIDUAL OPINION. IT INCLUDES THE OPINIONS OF THE STAFF AS WELL... BUT OUR PRODUCTION BELIEVES THAT IT WOULD BE BEST FOR THE FILM WITH MYEONG STAYING AS BOMY."
I tried to save face, forcing a laugh and an arrogant smirk. "OH, COME ON, DIRECTOR WOO. CAN'T YOU TAKE A HINT? HA? THEN YENA—OH, FORGET IT. I DON'T EVEN WANNA PLAY BOMY ANYMORE." The sheer fury building inside me was barely contained beneath that mask of false bravado. I saw Myeong standing calmly with the director and the two guys who flanked her.
Later, away from the immediate heat of the decision, the shame took over. I found the bar and immediately poured a drink (POUR), needing the immediate, burning relief. I didn't sip—I gulped, desperate to wash the bitter taste of defeat away. (GLUG, GLUG)
My teeth ground together (GRIT), a silent, painful acknowledgment of my failure. I was so angry I couldn't think straight. There was a sharp (CLACK) as I slammed the glass down, a sound that quickly drew attention.
"I HEARD SOMETHING BREAK...!!"
It was my kind, short-haired manager. Her eyes were wide with worry. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" She reached for me. "GIVE ME YOUR HAND, LET ME SEE IF YOU'RE HURT--"
But I flinched away. The anger exploded. The glass in my hand shattered, a violent, chaotic (SHATTER) that made my whole body convulse. My manager recoiled as the shards scattered, while I stood there, trembling with uncontrolled fury. (@!%^*#)
"I F*CKING SUCK AT ACTING," I finally confessed, the thought tearing through me. The irony was suffocating. I threw my head back, laughing a wild, desperate laugh as I slumped down. (SLUMP) "I TOOK THAT OLD GEEZER WITH ME TO GET THEIR ATTENTION, AND SHE HAD TWO GUYS BY HER SIDE! F*CK! SHE WAS ACTING SO INNOCENT, TOO! HAHA!!"
The reality hit me, raw and painful. "G*DDAMN IT. I EVEN LOST TO HER AT ACTING." I looked at my manager with desperate eyes. "HYEONJAE OBVIOUSLY DIDN'T EVEN LOOK MY WAY...!!"
I stood up, the alcohol making me stagger (STAGGER), and rounded on my manager, pointing an accusing finger. "HER MANAGER SHOWED UP LIKE A WHITE KNIGHT. WHERE WERE YOU?" I shouted (SHOUT). "YOU WENT OFF TO THE SHOOT WITHOUT TELLING ME... YOU ALWAYS SHOWED UP JUST FINE BEFORE!!!"
My manager just stared, shame on her face, before giving me a gentle (SLAP) across my cheek. "...YOU'RE DRUNK, YENA. WHY DON'T YOU ACT LIKE A MANAGER, FOR ONCE!!!"
The slap brought me crashing back to Earth, the pain mixing with the alcohol haze. "NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, ALL I DID WAS GET SLAPPED. THIS IS SO UNFAIR."
I looked down at the floor, sinking back onto the ground. The shame was unbearable. "...MAYBE I SHOULDN'T HAVE TRIED TO PULL THAT SH*T. HOW EMBARRASSING." I tried to reason with myself. (PONDER) "...BUT THEN AGAIN? I THOUGHT I DID WELL TOO..."
My manager stepped back, a somber look on her face. I lay on the floor, my expression a childish pout (POUT). "ALL THE GUYS LOVE THAT B*TCH. HMPH. YOU'D BETTER NOT LIKE HER TOO."
The sound of my own bitter jealousy was the last thing I heard before the world spun violently.
The two of us stood facing each other, the air thick with anticipation. The announcement felt impossibly distant.
Finally, Director Woo, the man with the serious expression and glasses, declared: "THE ROLE OF BOMY WILL GO TO... ...MYEONG YU."
A stunned silence fell over the small crowd. The older executive beside me, my staunch supporter, immediately reacted. "HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE EXECUTIVES' OPINIONS?"
Director Woo was unflinching. "MYEONG WILL PLAY BOMY. THIS DECISION WASN'T BASED ON MY INDIVIDUAL OPINION. IT INCLUDES THE OPINIONS OF THE STAFF AS WELL." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the room, landing momentarily on Myeong, who stood with her two escorts—the director and the handsome, white-haired man. "...BUT OUR PRODUCTION BELIEVES THAT IT WOULD BE BEST FOR THE FILM WITH MYEONG STAYING AS BOMY."
The executive was defeated. "IF WE ABSOLUTELY MUST FOLLOW THE OPINIONS OF YOU AND THE EXECUTIVES, THEN IT CAN'T BE HELPED..."
My pride stung. I laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. "OH, COME ON, DIRECTOR WOO. CAN'T YOU TAKE A HINT? HA?" I turned away, dismissing the whole thing with a wave of my hand. "THEN YENA-- OH, FORGET IT. I DON'T EVEN WANNA PLAY BOMY ANYMORE."
Myeong, the victor, approached me, her smile infuriatingly serene. "YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO PLAY BOMY, YENA."
I shot back, trying to appear unaffected. "NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, BOMY LOOKS A BIT CHEAP, SO I DON'T WANT IT."
She simply smiled. "...TRY NOT TO GET YOUR ROLES MIXED UP. :)"
"OH, COME ON."
"PFFT. OF COURSE NOT," she replied, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "HEHE." She turned to leave, her victory absolute. The executive walked past me, sparing a moment of forced politeness. "BEST OF LUCK ON THE REST OF YOUR SHOOT, MYEONG... SEE YOU AROUND."
I watched Myeong walk away, the rage finally cracking my composure. I managed to say only, "...YEAH. NEXT TIME..."
The crew began to move around, tidying up the area. I could hear the director commenting, "AND IT LOOKS LIKE THE FIRST SCENE WENT WELL, THANKS TO THEM, SO..."
I moved to the counter, desperate for an escape. I poured myself a generous measure of whiskey, the ice clinking loudly. (POUR) Then I brought the bottle directly to my lips and started to drink. (GLUG, GLUG)
My manager rushed over, clearly horrified. "HEY! THAT'S WAY TOO MUCH...!"
I pulled the bottle away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My eyes were burning with humiliation. "I'M JUST SANITIZING MYSELF. FROM THE DIRTY STUFF."
I found a card in my purse, a distraction. I tossed it onto the counter. I looked down at the bottle. (STAND)
Then, I was back on the floor, my earlier attempts at self-control completely gone. I lay there, looking up at my manager, my face flushed with alcohol and fury. I fumbled around, finally pulling a card from my clothing (RUMMAGE).
I felt like an utter fool. "I'M SO ANNOYED." The anger was so intense it felt electric. I was screaming at her: "I EVEN LOST TO HER AT ACTING." I looked back at Myeong, who was now posing with the silver-haired man. "IT'S LIKE THEY WERE FILMING A LOW BUDGET ROM-COM TOGETHER. WHAT?" I hated how easy she made everything look.
My voice was a desperate, drunken slur. "HYEONJAE OBVIOUSLY DIDN'T EVEN LOOK MY WAY...!!"
My manager slapped me. (SLAP)
The shock quieted me instantly. I held my burning cheek, staring at her in disbelief. My manager simply said, "...YOU'RE DRUNK, YENA." Then, raising her voice, she scolded me: "WHY DON'T YOU ACT LIKE A MANAGER, FOR ONCE!!!"
"HER MANAGER SHOWED UP LIKE A WHITE KNIGHT. WHERE WERE YOU?" I shouted, tears welling up as I blamed her for my own mistakes. "YOU WENT OFF TO THE SHOOT WITHOUT TELLING ME... YOU ALWAYS SHOWED UP JUST FINE BEFORE!!!"
I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. "NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, ALL I DID WAS GET SLAPPED. THIS IS SO UNFAIR." I was a mess, slumped on the floor, admitting defeat. "...MAYBE I SHOULDN'T HAVE TRIED TO PULL THAT SH*T. HOW EMBARRASSING. I F*CKING SUCK AT ACTING."
I looked up at her, my pout childish and pathetic. "ALL THE GUYS LOVE THAT B*TCH. HMPH. YOU'D BETTER NOT LIKE HER TOO."
Meanwhile, a girl with bangs was sitting calmly nearby, smiling brightly. "I'M VERY PASSIONATE ABOUT MY CRAFT, AS YOU KNOW." She winked. "I JUST COULDN'T LET GO OF EITHER ROLE, HEHE."
I was chaos; Myeong was composure. And that was the cruelest irony of all.
The two of us stood facing each other, the air thick with anticipation.
Finally, Director Woo declared, his face serious: "THE ROLE OF BOMY WILL GO TO... ...MYEONG YU."
I felt the shock, but the elderly executive beside me reacted first, challenging the decision: "HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE EXECUTIVES' OPINIONS?"
Director Woo, resolute, explained: "MYEONG WILL PLAY BOMY. THIS DECISION WASN'T BASED ON MY INDIVIDUAL OPINION. IT INCLUDES THE OPINIONS OF THE STAFF AS WELL... BUT OUR PRODUCTION BELIEVES THAT IT WOULD BE BEST FOR THE FILM WITH MYEONG STAYING AS BOMI." Myeong stood calmly with her two male companions, one of whom was the director.
The executive conceded grudgingly: "IF WE ABSOLUTELY MUST FOLLOW THE OPINIONS OF YOU AND THE EXECUTIVES, THEN IT CAN'T BE HELPED..."
I forced a brittle laugh and a smirk. "OH, COME ON, DIRECTOR WOO. CAN'T YOU TAKE A HINT? HA? THEN YENA-- OH, FORGET IT. I DON'T EVEN WANNA PLAY BOMY ANYMORE."
Myeong, the victor, approached. I saw the triumphant smile on her face. She reminded me: "YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO PLAY BOMY, YENA."
I countered quickly, my voice dripping with disdain, "NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, BOMI LOOKS A BIT CHEAP, SO I DON'T WANT IT." I met her gaze, forcing a wide smile. "...TRY NOT TO GET YOUR ROLES MIXED UP. :)"
She dismissed my challenge. "PFFT. OF COURSE NOT." She let out a small, taunting laugh: "HEHE."
As the executive walked away, he offered a final, forced pleasantry to the winner: "BEST OF LUCK ON THE REST OF YOUR SHOOT, MYEONG... SEE YOU AROUND."
I watched her go, a flicker of pure rage crossing my face, barely contained. The bitterness was palpable. "...YEAH. NEXT TIME..."
The production crew began resetting the set. I moved to the counter, pouring a glass of amber liquid over ice. (POUR) I didn't sip; I slammed the drink back, needing the immediate burn. (GLUG, GLUG) My teeth ground together. (GRIT) There was a sharp (CLACK) as I put the glass down.
My manager, the kind, short-haired woman, rushed over. "I HEARD SOMETHING BREAK...!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" She reached out: "GIVE ME YOUR HAND, LET ME SEE IF YOU'RE HURT--"
The pressure of my suppressed rage made me snap. The glass shattered. (SHATTER) I was screaming now, a desperate, raw sound. "I F*CKING SUCK AT ACTING." I laughed, a horrible, broken sound, slumping into a chair. (SLUMP) "I TOOK THAT OLD GEEZER WITH ME TO GET THEIR ATTENTION, AND SHE HAD TWO GUYS BY HER SIDE! F*CK! SHE WAS ACTING SO INNOCENT, TOO! HAHA!!"
I stared at the ground, my face wet and flushed. "G*DDAMN IT. I EVEN LOST TO HER AT ACTING." The reality hit me: "HYEONJAE OBVIOUSLY DIDN'T EVEN LOOK MY WAY...!!"
I stood up, staggering. (STAGGER) "HER MANAGER SHOWED UP LIKE A WHITE KNIGHT. WHERE WERE YOU? YOU WENT OFF TO THE SHOOT WITHOUT TELLING ME... YOU ALWAYS SHOWED UP JUST FINE BEFORE!!!" I shouted.
My manager slapped me. (SLAP) "...YOU'RE DRUNK, YENA. WHY DON'T YOU ACT LIKE A MANAGER, FOR ONCE!!!"
Holding my stinging cheek, I began to whine. "NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, ALL I DID WAS GET SLAPPED. THIS IS SO UNFAIR." I sank back down. I began to doubt my tactics. "...MAYBE I SHOULDN'T HAVE TRIED TO PULL THAT SH*T. HOW EMBARRASSING. I THOUGHT I DID WELL TOO..." I finished with a childish pout: "ALL THE GUYS LOVE THAT B*TCH. HMPH. YOU'D BETTER NOT LIKE HER TOO."
Part 2: The Inquiry
Later, I was sitting with a different, calm-looking woman—a director, perhaps.
"I HEARD YOU STIRRED UP QUITE THE COMMOTION ON SET," she noted. I smiled, bowing slightly. (BOW)
"I'M VERY PASSIONATE ABOUT MY CRAFT, AS YOU KNOW," I said with a sly wink. "I JUST COULDN'T LET GO OF EITHER ROLE, HEHE."
"YENA, YOU SAID YOU WENT TO COLLEGE WITH MYEONG, RIGHT?"
I confirmed it. "OH, YES. HEH. HOW FUNNY THAT YOU KNOW EACH OTHER. I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO THE FILM."
I steered the conversation to the man I saw with Myeong. "IT'S ABOUT YUHAN EUN. I THOUGHT HE WORKED UNDER YOU. SO WHY DID HE SUDDENLY BECOME MYEONG'S MANAGER?"
She looked thoughtful. "HM...? WHY ARE YOU CURIOUS ABOUT THAT ALL OF A SUDDEN?"
"NO REASON. BUT IT SEEMS LIKE THERE'S SPARKS FLYING BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM." I watched her reaction closely. "IF THERE WAS TO BE A SCANDAL BETWEEN AN ACTOR AND HER MANAGER, IT'D BE--"
A knock interrupted me. (KNOCK KNOCK)
The silver-haired man from Myeong's audition entourage entered. "ONE SEC. I'VE GOT A GUEST."
The director turned back to me, her expression unreadable. "THEN LET'S TALK AGAIN NEXT TIME."
I smiled thinly, knowing I had planted a seed of suspicion. My revenge was a long game.
I was standing by the large window, waiting, a feeling of mild anxiety making me fidget with the patterned handkerchief in my hands. I'd been waiting for a while, and the soft light of the late afternoon filled the hallway. I was here for him, I was trying to figure out what I needed to tell him.
Then, a tall figure with striking white hair, wearing a sleek black suit and turtleneck, appeared, walking up to me. It was Yuhan.
I turned, my heart giving a little skip of anticipation.
We stood facing each other. He looked handsome and serious.
I gave a slight smile, the waiting making my voice soft. "I was waiting for you..."
He looked at me with an intense gaze, and the next moment, I opened the door using the card key I had.
As we stood there, I asked him, "Do you want to grab a meal together?"
He looked a little surprised, his eyes widening faintly. "Yuhan!"
Then, after a brief pause, he answered, "Sure."
To be continued...
Story/Art: Soojin
Assistance: Soyoung