Two Mission Windows

The fingers of people scrolling absently through their feeds came to a stop.

"Wait, isn't this the thing Do Gyeo-ul was in a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠while back?"

Do Gyeo-ul's diligence in juggling her acting career alongside her studies was widely known, not just among drama devotees but to the general public as well. Footage of Gyeo-ul's stage performance had, in fact, circulated before as a shaky phone-camera recording. But a video of Myeong Je-ha and Han Yeo-reum? That was a first.

And so, quite naturally, drama fans and theater-and-musical fans alike found themselves face to face with that day's Romeo and Juliet.

Only the true faithful who had stayed behind had witnessed that stage, and for users like IP 85.152, the absence of any phone recording had become a wound that never quite healed. Now they rose up as one.

And just as Manager Ma had predicted, they were worth a hundred ordinary fans apiece. Yeo-reum's Juliet rode every social platform there was, spilling over until it reached people who had never watched a stage play in their lives.

Once the notoriously unforgiving gallery users had granted their approval, everything after came easy.

Fresh tags began clustering beside Han Yeo-reum's name.

#Diction #ActingChops #Theater #Voice #K-Arts

For an actress whose image was built on trendiness, being recognized by the public as a true craftswoman was brutally difficult — people could pour out hundreds of millions, even billions of won and still fail to manage it.

Han Yeo-reum was different.

At this level, it's not an earthquake of public opinion yet, but...

Gazing out at those gentle ripples, Manager Ma found herself recalling something Team Leader Hong had once said.

"And you never know, do you? Maybe one day we won't have to do any of that branding and promotion at all — maybe our entire job will simply cease to exist."

That absurd, laughable hypothetical, the one she'd dismissed as pure nonsense at the time.

"A real star shines even without the spotlights."

It was beginning to show its true shape, little by little.

"Eat up."

"Huh? I'm already eating a ton."

"Eat more. Cutie."

Ma Su-yeon pushed a melon soda across the table toward Yeo-reum, who was already on her third plate of okonomiyaki. They had just wrapped the live MNAA broadcast, all six grueling hours of it, and Yeo-reum had steered the entire ceremony flawlessly — without a single slip.

So this is what happens when the talent backs it up — everyone just falls in line?

At JC ENM, where even nonexistent ability could be gift-wrapped and sold, packaging a performer who had already done the actual preparation was hardly work at all.

Whatever labels the reporters try to slap on her, at this point we can rest easy...

It went without saying which scapegoat the reporters who adored V.S. would circle around to pin beside Do Gyeo-ul once the MBS ceremony ended. And after the Seoul International Drama Awards, it was equally predictable that Do Gyeo-ul's agency had been grinding their teeth ever since. Still, Manager Ma's heart felt considerably lighter.

And they've latched on at exactly the right moment.

Yeo-reum had no official fan club yet. No dedicated gallery, either. If Do Gyeo-ul's fans and a public that had never laid eyes on Pachehi came swinging, she would have absorbed every blow unguarded.

But the diehard users — IP 85.152 chief among them — who had witnessed Team B's Romeo and Juliet knew perfectly well that Han Yeo-reum was the genuine article.

...Now this is a fight we can actually win.

Do Gyeo-ul's side was surely planning to press Yeo-reum down while they had the chance. Young actresses were a limited resource, and the roles they could take were more limited still — easier to pin someone down while you could. And as luck would have it, Yeo-reum was also positioned to walk away empty-handed from next year's drama awards.

...Because Strange Tales airs on TVM.

TVM, a general-service channel, had yet to establish an awards ceremony of its own. When — or whether — one would ever launch was anyone's guess.

But trophies were not something you could only win from dramas.

Manager Ma's eyes, coolly surveying the board, gleamed.

Even if we lose on the drama front...

Yeo-reum held a joker in her hand: Faster Than the Law, slated for release sometime next year.

With film, the whole calculus changes.

Let it be said once more: the entertainment industry might look open and free from the outside, but in truth it was a world with hierarchies as sharply drawn as any other — and film trophies were simply valued above drama ones.

Okay. Let's dream big — all the way to next year's Baengnyong Film Awards.

Best Supporting Actress. The award Han Yeo-reum could actually win. At the thought, the folders in Manager Ma's mind flew open on pure reflex.

The things that mattered most to a film's box office. Platform-by-platform campaigns, fresh original promotional videos, actor-to-audience communication through social media, trailer marketing, merchandise and licensed goods, premiere screenings and more. Countless formulas for making Faster Than the Law a success unfolded before her eyes.

Han Yeo-reum had shown her share through the acting. The rest was Manager Ma's to deliver.

Having received Manager Ma's report, Jegal Rok sank briefly into thought.

Rejected by the Ministry of Culture, passed over by the content agency, ignored by every brand. Strange Tales, starved of a single won of outside funding, had surfaced as JC ENM's newest headache.

And yet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it gathers potential viewers entirely on its own...

There was a reason the marketing department poured hundreds of millions into promoting a single title. The most important variable at the box office was people.

And internet heavy users who spread word of mouth? Those are the best of the lot.

And Han Yeo-reum had captured the attention of the most discerning heavy users of them all. Jegal Rok stared at the materials for a long moment.

Then he picked up his phone.

"This is Jegal Rok. Let's readjust the production budget for Strange Tales."

He had decided to pour JC ENM's capital into the project — betting on Han Yeo-reum.

No time to breathe, honestly. Right after flying back from Osaka to Korea, my next schedule was the MBS ceremony. I stepped out of the car with practiced ease.

Clickclickclickclick—!

The instant I stood before the red carpet, gown hem gathered in one hand, the staccato of reporters' shutters greeted me like an old friend.

So THIS is... the taste of being a celebrity...?

Or was I imagining things? The cheers seemed louder than usual.

With the utmost devotion, I managed my expression for every single shot. Even now, whenever the attention came pouring in, keeping the corners of my mouth under control was a battle.

"YEO-REUUUUM—!!!"

Who on earth handed her a microphone? The voice, so close it felt like it was right beside my ear, made me flinch and whip my head toward the sound. My eyes met a woman covering her mouth with one hand.

...The awards from last time!

She was the woman who'd been cheering for me at the Seoul International Drama Awards. Before I could stop myself, I was so glad to see her that my expression management collapsed completely.

I think she's my fan!

I could hardly believe it. A fan. I had a fan. My heart was pounding. Even without an award, I felt like I'd already won something.

Instead of the camera lenses, I looked straight at Fan Number One and waved. Another hand immediately rose to clamp over its owner's mouth.

"Yeo-reum, heart!"

"Look over here too—!"

Only after dutifully fulfilling every one of the reporters' demands could I finally escape the red carpet. Inside, I followed the staff's guidance to my seat.

My name, on the placard, once again. This wasn't a seat from which I'd be accepting anything, and yet — unlike before — my existence would not simply be erased from the night. For now, that was enough.

"WAAAAAH—!!!"

A scream erupted outside, loud enough to rattle the walls of the hall. A murmur rippled through the seats around me.

"What now? Who's drawing a reaction like that?"

"Do Gyeo-ul."

Yesterday had been the finale of Beyond the Closed Door. It had ended on a strong, satisfying note, and the articles about Do Gyeo-ul had poured out past counting. Do Gyeo-ul was writing new history.

Enough to call her the protagonist of tonight.

Perfection. No other word could contain it — and that was precisely how Do Gyeo-ul's success was described.

Before the Korean broadcast had even finished airing, the drama had ignited explosive reactions in Japan and China. Articles reporting that overseas sales for the brand Do Gyeo-ul fronted as its muse had doubled dominated portal site front pages.

Once it began airing abroad, Do Gyeo-ul would shoot up to those impossible heights again in the blink of an eye.

...Whew...

I took a long, deep breath. It's fine. Who am I? Han Yeo-reum, the woman who had a fan in attendance tonight, thank you very much.

Overseas success. I can do that too, can't I.

Before I knew it, the ceremony was underway, and I let myself simply enjoy it. Thanks to hosting Music N, the invited singers were all familiar faces, and I cheered their stages along with everyone else; and, exactly as expected, I applauded when a rookie actress from an MBS genre drama took home her award.

And then, at last—

"Top Excellence in Acting. Do Gyeo-ul, for Beyond the Closed Door. Congratulations."

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could bring myself to clap when Do Gyeo-ul ascended the stage, too. She delivered her acceptance speech wearing the same exemplary smile as always.

"I would like to express my gratitude to the people who made it possible for me to stand on this stage."

While looking directly at me.

"While I was away from acting, I thought a great deal. Could I really act? Could I go on living as an actress at all?"

Do Gyeo-ul's voice trembled — just barely, just enough to notice.

The eyes of everyone watching her were washed over with empathy and encouragement. Everyone in this hall knew how much Do Gyeo-ul loved acting, after all.

"Truly, without a moment's rest, I doubted myself."

The sheer fact that the lead of a drama that had broken twenty percent in ratings had carved sleep out of her schedule to appear in a mere school play was, on its own, enough to move people's hearts. The entire hall was swept up in the emotion of it.

"After endless deliberation, I arrived at a single conclusion. Even without the qualifications for it..."

Do Gyeo-ul paused to draw breath.

Her expression on the big screen was something subtle and unfathomable. Our eyes were still locked on each other.

"I want to act."

The breath she'd held came out with the words, sincerity spat up as if it were something she could no longer keep down.

"I thank the people who made me — and who will continue to make me. I will show you an actress named Do Gyeo-ul who keeps growing, and growing..."

Receiving that gaze of hers — the gaze of a predator looking down at its prey — I kept my expression perfectly managed. Acting of this caliber was nothing to me, so why goosebumps kept crawling up my arms, I honestly couldn't say.

"I will strive with every ounce of strength I have."

A flawless acceptance speech, without a single wasted word. And then, naturally, my own face appeared on the screen. Her classmate, and publicly on friendly terms with her — of course the camera would find me.

I clapped as though I meant every bit of my congratulations.

Ding—!

It came just as Do Gyeo-ul was descending the stairs. A status window unfolded in the air before me.

...Hold on a second.

...Why are there TWO mission windows?

"See? I told ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you Do Gyeo-ul would win."

The inside of the bar was buzzing with praise for Do Gyeo-ul, trophy freshly clutched in her hands.

Empty bottles rolled across the tables of this joint near the K-Arts campus, where the freshmen who had staged Romeo and Juliet just a short while ago had gathered.

"Honestly, nobody else deserved it."

"Still, it's kind of unfair, isn't it? If she were just a couple years older she could've gone for the Daesang too. She got robbed of an award just for being twenty."

"Yeah, yeah, and I'm the one crying injustice here, you lunatic—!"

Amid the flushed, drink-flushed faces tossing in their two cents one by one, So Da-mi fiddled with her glass and murmured:

"Yeo-reum deserved one too."

Her classmates turned to her, puzzled.

"Yeo-reum? What about her?"

"It was a one-part thing, everyone knew she couldn't win!"

True enough. From the moment Han Yeo-reum's name had been nominated for Best New Actress, everyone had more or less understood how it would go. And still, So Da-mi couldn't shake the feeling that it was a waste.

"So Da-mi, the queen of classmate love!"

But it wasn't just classmate affection, no matter how the jokes landed. The reason was simple. Because Yeo-reum had been good. Just picturing that day's stage brought a sigh out of her all on its own.

"Honestly, watching Yeo-reum... your agency really does matter."

A classmate who had performed with Team A of Romeo and Juliet said it with a laugh — and somehow, the words had a barb buried in them.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

So Da-mi met her classmate's eyes.