The Way I Fight
She must have worked hard at keeping her expressions in check back when she was a rookie, too.
Guess now that she's got clout and fans and shields for whatever she does, she's given up hiding that she's in a bad mood.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, Seo I-deun beside her cut in with a bright smile.
"Oh, noona! I know you're happy to see her, but Yeo-reum and I still have one last script bit to run through before we go on. We'll head in first, then—"
Coordinator Hwang, whose arm was still clamped in Ki Joo-ye's grip, stood frozen, at a complete loss for what to do.
Right. Believe me, I'd love to punch her a few more times, but…
Not today. Let her go. And who exactly was she? Han Yeo-reum — winner of the Jury Special Award at the Seoul International Drama Awards, driving a 247% surge in web drama Blu-ray sales, and MC of the Music N Asia Awards, a six-hour live broadcast from the Kyocera Dome in Osaka. Find your calm.
"That's right. Live broadcast's coming up soon, so we'll head over first."
"Yep! See you later, then."
Ki Joo-ye poured every ounce of venom she could into that see you later. But Yeo-reum managed to extricate herself and make it all the way back to the MC backstage area.
Okay. Time to give Coordinator Hwang some space to herself.
She turned to the coordinator, who was still standing there like a statue.
"Unnie, I'm so sorry, but I'm parched. You know that peach drink from the vending machine over there? I've been craving it since earlier."
"Oh— oh, of course…. I'll be right back."
Once Coordinator Hwang left, only Yeo-reum and Seo I-deun remained in the MC waiting room.
"Tell me. You know something, don't you?"
So that was what had him fidgeting all day yesterday. Seo I-deun nodded.
"Senior Joo-ye's always had a bit of a temper — okay, honestly? A really big one. She hid it for a while when she was a rookie, but once she got popular, something just… awakened in her…."
What followed was a string of stories Yeo-reum decided it would be hazardous to her mental health to remember in detail. In short, it went something like this:
Unnie, why didn't you customize my drink the way I like it? I TOLD you my sweetness level is 70. What do you mean this isn't 70? Then you should have calculated your travel time and gone easy on the ice! Ugh, and I hadn't had one in forever… Wait, I spilled it on my outfit? Hehe, unnie, if you KNOW my personality, why do you keep bringing bright-colored clothes? Sense deficit, unnie~ No wonder I hated yesterday's outfit. I'm wearing this one today. No, not the one in your hand, THIS one… (omitted) My Endings, I'm sorry T_T Today's outfit was SO not it… It's a group effort, see, so I can't always get my way. But you understand how much I just want to look pretty in my Endings' eyes, right?
"…Wow. That gave me chills."
"The reason I remember your coordinator unnie, actually? She'd sometimes use the waiting room next to mine, and the yelling would come right through the wall. And her social media comments blew up once, so she locked it to private for a bit — but Senior Joo-ye ordered her to reopen it, so she did. And got flamed for it."
"Why on earth would she reopen it?"
"Because if it's locked, Senior Joo-ye just comes to her social media to vent…. Someone has to be the punching bag, or the comment section gets dirty."
What an absolute lunatic. Yeo-reum could not keep her face neutral.
"Anyway, that's why I figured I should steer clear of her. I was going to warn you yesterday, but I wasn't sure if it was my place. And then it all blew up anyway. I should've just said it fast…. I'm really sorry."
"Don't be. You cut it perfectly back there. I'm counting on you again next time."
Coordinator Hwang was around the age Yeo-reum had been before her regression. The fact that she'd endured that level of abuse and still never quit styling work said everything.
She must love this work that much, then.
Just like Yeo-reum herself, who could never have left acting no matter what happened to her. Ah, damn. It hurt to think about.
"I've caught some of that too, from her — you know, the pettiness? The attitude? So I know how brutal the CTSD can get. She does it while smiling, which makes it scarier and sadder somehow."
"You mean PTSD…"
"Anyway. The way I hear it, secondhand through secondhand — she probably lost more money having clothes destroyed for her than she ever took home in salary."
Seo I-deun stole a careful glance at Yeo-reum's face and asked, cautiously:
"So… what are you going to do about it?"
Do about it? Wasn't it obvious.
"I'm going to fight."
Seo I-deun reeled back in alarm.
"You're not going to phone in her intro before she takes the stage, are you? Please don't. I'm sorry, but she has a LOT of toxic stans. You might not know this, but 'toxic stan' is short for 'malicious individual fan,' and they—"
"I'm not doing any of that. And I happen to know what toxic stans are."
"Oh. Right, sorry — I assumed you wouldn't know, being an actress. Then… what about tormenting her where no one can see? Like when she goes to the bathroom, you lock the door from outside and dump a bucket of water over her so she can't take the stage—"
"I'm not doing that either. And where on earth are you getting this stuff?"
"Or, if all else fails — you slap her first, and when people come running, you collapse on the floor and pretend SHE hit YOU…"
Seo I-deun continued rattling off examples without pausing for breath. Yeo-reum had heard plenty about idols glued to their phones during long wait times, but this was something else.
What exactly has this boy been watching on his phone during all those waits?
If he ever decided to write trashy melodrama scripts, he might single-handedly pull a 30% viewership rating. Yeo-reum cut him off.
"How am I going to fight? With acting."
"Wait, are you two in the same drama?"
"No. Same as how idols get attacked by everyone the moment they drop albums in the same season — dramas work exactly the same way."
Yeo-reum knew, from her memories of her previous life, which drama Ki Joo-ye had signed on for. And roughly when it would air, too.
Strange Tales is slated for a summer broadcast… so the schedules overlap.
She was mid deep-breath, busily running mental damage control, when Seo I-deun spoke up beside her, watching her carefully.
"But… um, the drama Senior Joo-ye is joining? People are already REALLY looking forward to it…"
Oh, I know. I know very well. The production had spared no expense from day one — a lavish art department, a cast lineup that was no joke, a rock-solid story, and sponsorship from heavyweight brands on top of it all.
That's what people mean when they say 'worst case, a solid mid-tier hit.'
Its ratings had landed in the mid-teens. Respectable.
But so what?
"When one side is hopelessly bad and the other side is overwhelmingly good, the two of them get dragged out and forced to face each other. It always works out that way."
That was simply how this industry operated. When one person was that dominant, nobody even remembered the rest. Yeo-reum called up the memory of Ki Joo-ye's expression from earlier — and of Coordinator Hwang, trembling and unable to say a word.
Let's see how long you can keep throwing your weight around, even after you crash and burn in an acting controversy…
She'd already been feeling pent-up from holding back on the theater stage, so this worked out nicely. Bring it on, Ki Joo-ye. I'll drag you out as the comparison point and beat you senseless with it.
Seo I-deun stared at her with an oddly moved expression.
"I'm going to help the ratings! I'll turn on my phone, my tablet, AND the TV, all three at the same time! Fighting!"
Hey. That's not how ratings are counted…
Hwang Ji-hye pressed down hard on the vending machine button. A crushing sense of patheticness seemed to weigh on her shoulders. Again and again she felt as if space and time were folding in on themselves, dragging her back down that corridor where Ki Joo-ye had been waiting.
And I couldn't manage a single word…
Yeo-reum was years younger than she was. And yet, in front of a senior as formidable as Ki Joo-ye, Yeo-reum had taken her side.
Hwang Ji-hye had simply frozen, like an idiot. Maybe it was the nature of the place — a broadcasting station corridor. For her, it was nothing short of the very ground where her trauma lived.
"Ah, unnie, seriously! You really know how to make a person claustrophobic!"
Ki Joo-ye's voice, ringing down that corridor, was still vivid in her ears even now. It was hard to breathe, as if someone were pressing down on her lungs. Shaking her head as if to force the memory away, Hwang Ji-hye hurried back — and that was how she'd ended up overhearing the two of them talking.
…How humiliating.
She'd cut her bangs and started wearing glasses specifically so no one would recognize her past. She'd deleted her social media, too. And still, her years as Ki Joo-ye's coordinator felt like a weight wrapped around her ankles.
Maybe I really should have just quit this line of work…
Just like Ki Joo-ye said — Hwang Ji-hye had no sense, and she was suffocating to be around. She couldn't do anything properly, and she was nothing but mistakes. Liking something and being good at it were two different things. While everyone else was building sleek, impressive portfolios, Hwang Ji-hye was good for nothing but dusting lint off clothes.
Even though nothing about her deserved it, tears welled up in her eyes, stupid and unstoppable. And that was when it happened.
"Wait, is your coordinator unnie actually good now? The outfits she picks for every shoot have been really nice."
Seo I-deun's innocent question drifted out from the room. Hwang Ji-hye's heart pounded with anxious dread. Holding her breath, she waited for Yeo-reum's answer.
"You know Director Ryu, right? Ryu Risa."
"Of course I do! I'm not THAT clueless."
"Director Ryu can't stop complimenting our coordinator. Says she's got a natural eye? An instinct for it? Something about her is just different, apparently."
The moment the words reached her, the tears she'd been holding back spilled down her cheeks.
"Wh- really?"
She's lying. There was no way Director Ryu had said any such thing.
Nobody on earth knew that better than Hwang Ji-hye herself. Director Ryu was notoriously stingy with praise.
"So make sure you go tell people about it."
Yeo-reum was acting — skillfully, seamlessly, on her behalf. Her vision kept blurring over. Hwang Ji-hye hurriedly scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, and somewhere inside her, a rusted lock gave a shuddering clank.
Something she had long forgotten squirmed back to life in her heart.
Ah…
That's right. All the excuses and all the doubts aside, she still loved clothes. She loved them so much that no matter what was done to her, she couldn't bring herself to give them up — so much that she could stake her whole life on this work.
Meanwhile, with the mid-show commercials winding down and the MNAA's opening moments away, Ae-ta-mi glared at her screen through bloodshot eyes and shouted:
"Edit complete!"
The video, re-rendered in crisp high definition, had finished — timed perfectly. On her computer screen played footage of Team B's stage from Romeo and Juliet.
"I was going to keep it for my private collection, but…"
Ae-ta-mi searched Yeo-reum's name a dozen times a day. There was no way she could have missed the war brewing beneath the surface.
And as an ad agency employee, she knew exactly what a single, decisive impact could accomplish.
"Nothing for it, then. Releasing it!"
Sometimes, a single proof was worth more than a hundred words.
Mind made up, Ae-ta-mi slammed the upload button with grim resolve — with no idea of the shockwave her video was about to send not just through the fandom, but through the entire theater-and-musical community.
And then, from somewhere in the distance, came the music heralding the start of the MNAA — and Yeo-reum stepped out onto the stage.