Yena pov
In her high school
I watched them. The students in their neat, brown uniforms, faces clustered together in happy, easy camaraderie. "HAHA HAHA" echoed around me. They were a bright, swirling vortex of shared jokes and casual connections. I watched them, and I thought, "I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND." I didn't understand the mechanism of it, the simple effortlessness of fitting in.
It soon became painfully obvious that the rest of the world couldn't see clearly; they were all blind to what truly mattered. That's when the burning, desperate resolve took hold: I'M GOING TO BECOME A CELEBRITY... I'd be so famous, so undeniable, that no one would have a choice but to look at me.
So when I saw the crowd—the hazy, purple silhouettes of students—gathering again, I was overcome with rage. "SO WHY ARE THEY ALL GATHERED AROUND THAT NOBODY?"
My gaze narrowed as I focused on the girls they were celebrating, instantly tearing them apart in my mind. "THIS GIRL'S CAKED IN MAKE-UP…" I muttered, my lip curling. I'd seen her without it once and was genuinely shocked. The other girl, with the perfect smile and short bob? "...AND THAT GIRL'S HAD A TON OF WORK DONE." They talk about natural beauty, but she could never, ever get a leading role with a face like that.
"MAN." I dropped my head into my hand, my lower lip trembling with a mixture of self-pity and fury. "EVERYONE'S BLINDED BY THE SILLIEST THINGS." Why were they all fooled? Why couldn't they see?
The frantic energy of my frustration finally boiled over. I slammed my hands on the desk, standing up with a panicked, wild energy, my breath catching in my throat.
"THE PERSON YOU SHOULD ACTUALLY BE TRYING TO BEFRIEND IS RIGHT HERE!" I yelled, pointing to myself, my eyes wide and desperate for them to look. "I'M OBVIOUSLY WAY PRETTIER... AND WAY BETTER THAN EVERYONE!"
But the only thing that responded was my own pathetic, echoing voice, unheard by the crowd that continued to laugh and whisper about the girls they preferred.
I watched them, the giggling groups—"LALALALA! YOU'RE SO FUNNY!"—and simply dismissed them. WELL, THEY'RE JUST KIDS. They can indulge in these fleeting, little friendships while they're still in school, even if they're NOTHING SPECIAL. But I'm different.
I settled back in my chair, looking out at the endless, boring windows. My destiny isn't here, stuck in this classroom. I'M GOING TO BE A HUGE ACTOR WHEN I GROW UP.
A slow, satisfying smirk spread across my face. I pictured the future, the day I made it big. THEN YOU'LL ALL BE SORRY. I imagined the exact words that would flood their minds, the moment they saw my face on a billboard or the front page of a magazine.
A flicker of shock went through me as I envisioned the scene: their wide, regretful eyes. "OH! I should have been friends with her, the prettiest girl in our class!" I imagined them thinking. OF COURSE. That's what they would realize. It was inevitable.
I looked down at the dull cover of my textbook. They're all too stupid to recognize my incredible aura now. Why waste my time on this? WHAT GOOD IS IT TO STUDY THIS STUFF? I'm not a mathematician or a scientist; I'M AN INCREDIBLE ACTOR.
SCHOOL IS SO BORING.
I let out a tired sigh, feeling myself SLUMP. I put my head down, burying my face in my crossed arms, shutting out the fluorescent lights and the meaningless noise of the other students.
I just had to hold on a little longer, live through this insignificant period.
ONCE I GET TO COLLEGE... my life will truly begin. That's when I'll finally escape this tiny, judgmental world ...AND I MEET PEOPLE LIKE ME...—people who understand talent, who appreciate true beauty, and who will recognize the superstar I am meant to be.
I don't know if it was intentional or not... and I don't remember what came first—the silence or the sudden, deafening sound of everyone else's laughter—but in high school, I realized... I WAS ALONE.
I looked out at the clusters of students, their smiles wide, their voices bubbling up in collective "HAHAs." I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND how they made it look so easy.
It became painfully obvious that the world outside my head couldn't see clearly. IT WAS OBVIOUS THAT NO ONE COULD SEE CLEARLY. That's when the burning, desperate resolve took hold: I'M GOING TO BECOME A CELEBRITY... WHY~?! I would be so famous and beautiful that they wouldn't have a choice but to look at me. ...SO WHY ARE THEY ALL GATHERED AROUND THAT NOBODY?
My gaze narrowed. They flock to anyone, it seems. THIS GIRL'S CAKED IN MAKE-UP... I SAW HER WITHOUT MAKE-UP ONCE AND WAS SHOCKED... And the other one? ...AND THAT GIRL'S HAD A TON OF WORK DONE. SHE COULD NEVER GET A LEADING ROLE.
MAN. I dropped my head into my hand, my lower lip trembling. EVERYONE'S BLINDED BY THE SILLIEST THINGS.
I slammed my hands on the desk, my voice rising in a desperate pitch. "THE PERSON YOU SHOULD ACTUALLY BE TRYING TO BEFRIEND IS RIGHT HERE! I'M OBVIOUSLY WAY PRETTIER... AND WAY BETTER THAN EVERYONE!" But the only thing that echoed back was my own pathetic, desperate voice.
🎭 The Defense Mechanism
That was the only way I could cope. I kept telling myself it would happen. One day, the world would catch up and ...EVERYONE WILL RECOGNIZE MY TRUE CHARMS.
I understood, in a theoretical way, that MY SCHOOL DAYS SPENT ALONE... hadn't just been boring; they had FOSTERED A SENSE OF ELITISM IN ME AS A DEFENSE MECHANISM. I wore my aloofness like a shield.
THE LONELINESS... the constant emptiness I felt lying on my desk, wearing earbuds to block out the world, ...GAVE ME A SENSE OF SUPERIORITY, AS IF I WAS STANDING AT THE TOP OF A PYRAMID. Everyone else was below me. I was waiting for my destined life; they were already stuck in theirs.
🌌 The Cold Reality
BUT THAT DIDN'T LAST LONG...
My eyes snapped open, and the walls of my carefully constructed ego began to crack. The fantasy shattered the moment I truly understood the depth of my delusion. I was faced with a stark reflection—the reality of me versus the bright, confident image of the girl I longed to be—and I realized I was ONLY FOOLING MYSELF...
The crushing truth descended: ...AND THAT MY DISTORTED SENSE OF SUPERIORITY WAS ACTUALLY AN INFERIORITY COMPLEX. I looked at the girl—the easy beauty, the one who carried the kind of light I could only dream of possessing.
Then, the blue, stylized dreamscape dissolved into the cold, familiar blue of the night. It was the night outside my apartment complex, Unit 105. I sat hunched over on the concrete steps, pulling my knees up to my chest, the black plastic bag containing my meager purchases beside me. There was no stage, no aura, no special destiny waiting. There was just me, alone, finally stripped bare of the beautiful lie.
Present
I don't know if it was intentional or not... I can't even remember what came first, the silence or the isolation, ...AND I DON'T REMEMBER WHAT CAME FIRST... But in high school, I finally had to face it: ...BUT IN HIGH SCHOOL, I REALIZED... I WAS ALONE.
I watched the clusters of laughing students. I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND how they managed it. Their little world was so obvious, so shallow. IT WAS OBVIOUS THAT NO ONE COULD SEE CLEARLY. I settled on my future, my escape: I'M GOING TO BECOME A CELEBRITY... WHY~?! ...SO WHY ARE THEY ALL GATHERED AROUND THAT NOBODY?
I scoffed at the girls they admired. THIS GIRL'S CAKED IN MAKE-UP... and that one ...AND THAT GIRL'S HAD A TON OF WORK DONE. SHE COULD NEVER GET A LEADING ROLE.
MAN. EVERYONE'S BLINDED BY THE SILLIEST THINGS.
I watched them, a smug look crossing my face. WELL, THEY'RE JUST KIDS. YOU CAN BE FRIENDS WHEN YOU'RE STILL IN SCHOOL, EVEN IF YOU'RE NOTHING SPECIAL.
I'M DIFFERENT. I looked out the window, picturing my name in lights. I'M GOING TO BE A HUGE ACTOR WHEN I GROW UP.
I smiled, a smug, certain SMIRK. THEN YOU'LL ALL BE SORRY. I imagined them saying, "I SHOULD HAVE BEEN FRIENDS WITH YENA, THE PRETTIEST GIRL IN OUR CLASS!" OH! Of course. OF COURSE.
THEY'RE ALL TOO STUPID TO RECOGNIZE MY INCREDIBLE AURA. I'M AN INCREDIBLE ACTOR. I looked at the textbooks covering my desk. WHAT GOOD IS IT TO STUDY THIS STUFF? SCHOOL IS SO BORING. I slumped forward, hiding my face. SCHOOL IS SO BORING. I just needed to survive the wait. ONCE I GET TO COLLEGE... ...AND I MEET PEOPLE LIKE ME...
Part II: The Crushing Truth
I kept dreaming, convinced that soon ...EVERYONE WILL RECOGNIZE MY TRUE CHARMS. I needed that conviction. MY SCHOOL DAYS SPENT ALONE... ...FOSTERED A SENSE OF ELITISM IN ME AS A DEFENSE MECHANISM. THE LONELINESS... gave me a SENSE OF SUPERIORITY, AS IF I WAS STANDING AT THE TOP OF A PYRAMID.
BUT THAT DIDN'T LAST LONG... The illusion broke. I was forced to face myself, and I realized I was ONLY FOOLING MYSELF... The crushing weight of the truth descended: ...AND THAT MY DISTORTED SENSE OF SUPERIORITY WAS ACTUALLY AN INFERIORITY COMPLEX.
The dream world disappeared, leaving behind the stark reality of the apartment complex, 105. Later, dressed in a hoodie and a cap, I sat defeated on the cold steps. I needed help, needed a way out of the anonymity I hated.
I spoke to him, the only one I thought might understand the game. "THERE HAS TO BE SOME WAY. YOU'RE A GUY, DO YOU HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS?"
He was skeptical, looking down at the cards in his hand. IT'S EASIER SAID THAN DONE. I lamented my current struggles: "I MEAN, DIRECTOR WOO, THEN I WOULDN'T BE STRUGGLING LIKE THIS RIGHT NOW." My struggles to break into acting were real and humiliating.
He looked at me, his eyes sharp. "YOU'VE ALREADY TRIED SEVERAL TIMES?"
I gripped my hands, tears welling up in frustration. "YES! THERE'S NOTHING I HAVEN'T TRIED." I pleaded with him. "THE ONLY THING LEFT IS TO POUNCE ON HIM..." He considered this desperate idea. "...THERE MAY BE ONE WAY LEFT."
My heart hammered in my chest. "WHICH IS?" I was ready for anything.
The dream world disappeared, leaving behind the stark reality of the apartment complex, 105. Later, dressed in a hoodie and a cap, I sat defeated on the cold steps. I had finally admitted that MY DISTORTED SENSE OF SUPERIORITY WAS ACTUALLY AN INFERIORITY COMPLEX, and that painful honesty had left me desperate for a path forward.
That desperation led me to him. I was ready to hear any suggestion after failing so many times to break into the industry. "I GET THE SENSE THAT YOU'VE ONLY THOUGHT OF WAYS TO GET DIRECTOR WOO TO LIKE YOU," he observed. He paused, then delivered a sharp assessment: "I DON'T KNOW YOU THAT WELL, BUT... ...YOU SEEM TO HAVE A LOT OF PRIDE."
He looked at me, his gaze demanding. "...SO?"
His words stung, but he had a point. I realized I had never truly laid myself bare for the director, or anyone else for that matter.
He continued, pushing the blade deeper: "YOU'VE PROBABLY NEVER REVEALED YOUR TRUE FEELINGS TO HIM."
A shock went through me. ...! I wanted to deny it, but I couldn't. It was the truth.
He laid out the unthinkable proposal: "LET GO OF YOUR PRIDE... WHY DON'T YOU TRY BEING HONEST WITH HIM?" "...OR THE FEELINGS HOLDING YOU BACK... ...AND SHOW HIM EVERYTHING."
Show him everything? That meant abandoning the illusion, giving up the self that was DIFFERENT, the self that had relied on elitism as a DEFENSE MECHANISM. It meant admitting that SCHOOL IS SO BORING only because I couldn't connect, and that THE LONELINESS GAVE ME A SENSE OF SUPERIORITY only as a way to cope with being overlooked.
I looked away, curling my knees tighter to my chest. The idea of such vulnerability was terrifying. I couldn't do it.
"WHO IS HE TO BE TELLING ME WHAT TO DO?" I muttered, leaning away from the advice, already plotting a way to achieve my goal without sacrificing the last scraps of my dignity.
I leaned back on the cold, hard steps, rejecting the ridiculous idea that I should SHOW HIM EVERYTHING and let go of my pride. "WHO IS HE TO BE TELLING ME WHAT TO DO?" I muttered under my breath. The advice was unbearable because it was true, and facing the truth of my inferiority complex felt like defeat.
It was just another dead end. I pushed myself up, gathered my black plastic bag, and walked away, turning my back on the apartment building 105. The night air was heavy.
I couldn't just POUNCE ON HIM, but the idea of being truly honest? Never.
The next few days were a blur of restless determination. I returned to my empty apartment. I sat on my bed, staring at the phone, my lips pursed. I kept recalling what he'd said: "YOU'VE PROBABLY NEVER REVEALED YOUR TRUE FEELINGS TO HIM," and the sound of my own voice denying it: "YES! THERE'S NOTHING I HAVEN'T TRIED."
Then, the messages started. A flood of texts from the director.
Director Woo: You've been selected for a role.
My heart hammered. Selected? Finally! My elite destiny was finally starting. I pictured the girl I was meant to be, surrounded by sparkling approval.
Director Woo: But this time... it's only a small role.
Director Woo: You should try revealing your true colors, not trying so hard to hide them.
Director Woo: I want to see how you are in real life, not as someone else.
I stared at the screen, my expression hardening into a familiar scowl. A small role? After all my effort, my waiting, my certainty that I was WAY PRETTIER... AND WAY BETTER THAN EVERYONE?
Director Woo: We'll meet up in person after the shoot.
My whole body stiffened. This was it. The final humiliation. The small role, the demand to be 'myself'—the pathetic, lonely me—it felt like a mocking audition.
Director Woo: If you can't show up, then just quit.
My fist clenched, crushing the bedding. Quit? My face was contorted with a silent scream of betrayal. The audacity! After I put my entire life on hold, certain that ONCE I GET TO COLLEGE... ...AND I MEET PEOPLE LIKE ME... I would finally rise above.
A single word flashed in the message thread.
Director Woo: OK.
I threw the phone down onto the bed, the glow of the screen reflecting the crushing finality of his decision. He had already moved on. My desperate pursuit had ended not with a bang, but with a cold, dismissive "OK." I was still alone, just like in high school.
I threw the phone down onto the bed, the single, cold word 'OK' echoing the end of my dream. The director, after dangling the possibility of a role, had told me to quit if I couldn't accept his terms. Show him my true colors? I want to see how you are in real life, not as someone else. He was asking me to dismantle the protective shell I'd spent years building.
My teeth ground together, and I pushed myself off the bed. I wasn't quitting. Not now. Not after realizing that my pride was just a defense mechanism. That realization hurt, but it also fueled me. I was going to prove him wrong, not by being honest, but by being the best damn actress he'd ever seen.
I got to the studio for the shoot, still nursing my rage. He found me.
"I'M NOT ASKING YOU TO ACT," he said.
The statement felt like a direct attack on my talent. "WHAT?" I challenged him.
His eyes bored into mine, holding all the infuriating, condescending superiority that I secretly wished I possessed. "JUST SHOW ME WHO YOU REALLY ARE, AND YOU'LL GET YOUR ROLE," he insisted. He was demanding vulnerability, the one thing I couldn't afford to give.
I exploded, my voice tight with years of resentment. "AND IF I DON'T? ARE YOU GOING TO FIRE ME?"
He simply stood there, waiting for me to break, waiting for me to drop the performance. He had stripped away my illusion of the INCREDIBLE AURA I thought I possessed. The demand for honesty felt more brutal than any rejection. It wasn't about the role anymore; it was about tearing down the lonely girl standing at the top of a pretend pyramid and forcing her to stand on the ground.
I can certainly replace "the man" with the name Hyeonjae in the story expansion.
The late hour cast a deep blue over the entrance of the building. The neon glow from the street barely reached Hyeonjae standing by the door.
A muffled conversation hung in the air.
"Oh, I was on my way to the convenience store," I said, my voice attempting a casual tone.
"To get soju?" Hyeonjae asked.
"Yeah."
A bright, genuine smile stretched across my face as I held up a small, black plastic bag. ✨ "I knew that would be the case, so I brought some!" ✨
"Wow..." Hyeonjae murmured, looking surprised.
"I've loved you for almost 10 years now," I confessed, the words pouring out. "That much should be expected."
Hyeonjae turned slightly, his shoulders slumped. "I'm a nobody... there are lots of cooler guys out there."
"Then can't you just say 'thank you,' and like me back?" I challenged him, tilting my head up.
...
Hyeonjae sighed, a look of mild panic crossing his face. "I'm kidding!" He quickly added, looking down. A "BEEP" sound bubble appeared next to him. "Ah! I guess I shouldn't even joke."
I fixed my gaze on him, my expression softening with resolve. My eyes felt warm.
"Because I've decided I'm only going to tell you the truth from now on," I stated firmly.
I looked at him, my expression earnest and vulnerable. "Honestly, I may not be lovable at all... but I still want to tell you my truth."
Hyeonjae looked back at me, his eyes wide behind his glasses.
"I hope you'll listen to my pathetic story..." he began, his voice barely a whisper, "...and love only me..."
"...Regardless," I finished for him, knowing his struggle.
Hyeonjae turned and quickly slammed his door shut. "SHUT"