Next Step (5)
After finally managing to calm I Dahye — who had been clutching what might loosely qualify as a weapon — we sat side by side on the practice room floor and talked.
I asked her straight out whether something had been weighing on her lately. In exchange for letting her use the practice room over the weekend, I told her to just be honest with me.
I Dahye hesitated for a moment, then began to pour out everything she had been holding inside.
"We're the same age, but she's just… incredible."
It started with her admiration and praise for Seol Soyoung.
According to Dahye, she had enjoyed Welcome to Cafe Violet so much that she had naturally become a fan — and the mere fact that she would get to appear in a drama alongside her had made her genuinely happy at first.
Of course, the acting she had witnessed on set was overwhelming. Soyoung's singing was nearly as gifted as her performance work, and by driving herself with sheer desperation, she had even turned her weakest point — dance — into something formidable.
…Honestly, after watching her up close for several days, anyone who claimed they weren't a little captivated would have been lying.
But separate from that admiration, I Dahye was carrying a different emotion entirely.
Watching someone who was already an actress, already an exceptional singer, grow at a terrifying pace through a practice volume that made all of Dahye's own efforts feel insignificant — it left a tightness in her chest.
That was why she had vaguely started coming into the company even on weekends, ramping up her dance and vocal practice. She wanted somehow to ease that suffocating feeling. If she stayed still, she was afraid she would simply fall behind.
"…I know what this feeling is."
I Dahye offered a slightly bitter smile.
Hearing her out, I thought I knew what it was too. In my previous life, I had lived with that same emotion hanging over me every day.
"It's an inferiority complex."
"…"
She said nothing. In a moment like this, silence was its own kind of yes.
She seemed rattled by an unfamiliar feeling she had never experienced before — and at the same time, ashamed of having it at all.
"I must look pretty pathetic right now, don't I?"
That was why she was asking me a question like that.
"Not at all. If anything, I think inferiority can be a good thing."
"…What?"
My take on it was a little different.
In my previous life, I had never once doubted that I was a reasonably talented person. I had a knack for writing, and through grinding effort I had passed the exams in one shot and started working as the youngest writer on staff.
Honestly, up to that point I had thought I was a genius. That belief only shattered once I fully stepped into the drama industry and met the real ones.
The drama world of my past life was a place where only the natural-born geniuses who had clawed their way through cutthroat competition could even operate. Creative stories and dialogue that seized people's attention and hearts no matter the method. Every time I faced the scripts they wrote, I understood there was an uncrossable wall of talent between them and me.
So back then, just like I Dahye, I lived with that inferiority complex as a constant companion. At the same time, the hunger to succeed as a writer was still there. I wanted to write entertaining dramas that people would remember, the way they did.
That was why, even through the brutal schedule of a junior writer, I never gave up writing. I cut into my sleep and thrashed as hard as I could.
Looking back now, I had been a truly foolish kid, completely seized by inferiority.
But…
"I've felt that way plenty of times myself. And sometimes, inferiority turns into surprisingly good fuel."
What had driven that version of me had been that very feeling.
"As long as it doesn't go too far, I think it's a good thing."
As long as you didn't end up like me — dead of cancer — you were fine. If someone had told me that in my previous life… shit, I would have kept my ears shut anyway, so the result would have been the same.
"Why are you telling me all this?"
I Dahye, who had been listening carefully, asked.
Why? Honestly, because I didn't want her walking the same path my past self had — but I couldn't exactly say that out loud.
"…"
Hmm. Her eyes were far too serious for me to brush the question off with some vague non-answer.
"Because it would be a waste of that face of yours to stay trapped in inferiority. Honestly, the idea of you feeling inferior to anyone strikes me as strange to begin with."
"…Huh?"
So I decided to answer a little more bluntly.
"Someone who's way prettier than most people, has a great voice, and dances well — what more could you possibly want? How are ugly mugs like me supposed to survive this harsh world?"
"Well… at least, you don't look like an ugly mug to me…"
I appreciated the comfort, really — but coming from someone like I Dahye, it didn't help one bit. The same would have been true if Seol Soyoung had said it.
"Anyway! What I'm trying to say is that you're you, and she's her. You shine plenty on your own without getting swallowed by inferiority, so don't worry so much."
"…"
No answer came back. Well… she probably needed time to sit with it on her own.
I gave her one more reminder about using the practice room properly, then left her there.
But the way she looked at the end stuck with me a little. Her face had been a bit flushed… was she running a fever? Come to think of it, she had been sweating heavily from dance practice, and we had talked for far too long after that.
Haa…
If she caught a cold over this, I was going to feel terrible.
Meanwhile…
Inside a room at the JYB dormitory, I Dahye lay sprawled across her bed, replaying the conversation from a little while ago.
Inferiority can turn into surprisingly good fuel. As long as it doesn't go too far, I think it's a good thing.
…It was strange. The moment she heard those words, something in her chest had eased. An emotion she had only ever thought of as unfamiliar and negative could actually help her — that realization settled in.
And then.
You shine plenty on your own, so don't worry so much.
Her face went hot all at once. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. A single line — then a few more, spoken without a trace of falsehood — left her flustered and embarrassed.
And I Dahye thought of the person who had done this to her.
Seo Eunwoo.
The one the CEO had firmly declared as JYB's successor. There had been a small misunderstanding at first, but after today, she understood how genuinely kind he was.
"Ah, right. I never even said thank you."
It suddenly hit her that she had said nothing at all when they parted. She had been too embarrassed to get the words out.
So the next time they met, she wanted to lead with her gratitude. And, while she was at it, she wanted to talk about all kinds of other things too. Ideally, drop the formal speech and get closer… or something like that?
Still, that part wasn't urgent. If he was JYB's successor, there would be plenty more chances to run into each other.
And so…
Holding onto a quiet little hope, I Dahye slowly closed her eyes. Without any particular worry, she drifted into the most peaceful sleep she had had in a long time.
From that day on, a new current ran through the set of Fly High.
Namely: I Dahye and Seol Soyoung had grown noticeably close. Things had been a little awkward between them at first, but starting with the filming of episode three, they had gotten close enough to drop formal speech with each other.
Being the same age and finding they surprisingly clicked had played a part — but the real key was the change in I Dahye herself.
"So what happened all of a sudden?"
Seol Soyoung asked, looking at I Dahye as they sat across from each other on a break.
She had been wondering. The constant mistakes once cameras rolled, the dark expression, the complicated looks Dahye used to shoot her way — all of it. Then, from one particular day, it was as if Dahye had become a different person overnight.
Mistakes during filming were essentially gone. She was brighter and more energetic than when they first met. She even kept initiating conversation over the smallest things, and before Soyoung knew it, they had become friends.
Watching the change, Seol Soyoung found herself thinking: maybe this was what the girl had always been like underneath.
"What happened?"
"Yeah. You seem pretty different from the I Dahye I first met."
"That's all your fault, you know. Miss Perfect."
"???"
Seol Soyoung tilted her head, puzzled. Watching her, I Dahye let out a small laugh.
"I was just… kind of lost back then, and someone told me this: Seol Soyoung is Seol Soyoung, and I Dahye is I Dahye."
"Hmm? What does that mean?"
"It means that in that person's eyes, I'm just as impressive a woman as you are."
"I'm not that impressive, though?"
"…"
Looking at Seol Soyoung say it with a completely sincere face, I Dahye was left speechless. She thought she could finally understand, just a little, why that person had gotten so worked up over not being able to comprehend her inferiority complex.
"So? Who was the person who comforted you?"
At Seol Soyoung's question, I Dahye thought of someone and smiled faintly.
"Someone. Kind, and someone who gives everything to what they do."