By a Single Step
The wider Han Yeo-reum's smile stretched, the faster Ki Joo-ye's own smile drained from her face.
Just then, a commotion erupted outside the venue — a tidal wave of cheers. The relentless barrage of camera flashes made it clear just how popular the arriving figure was.
Do Gyeo-ul was walking in.
Do Gyeo-ul had watched the final episode of Strange Tales on her home theater. The catharsis she'd felt then had been on a scale she'd never once experienced in her life.
The camera angle shifted, and the moment it became clear that the ritual board was another kind of talisman, it felt as though some colossal calamity were about to crush Do Gyeo-ul flat.
The face of Summer, glancing back over her shoulder after cutting off her hair with a blade. The way the shortened strands swayed and revealed that desperate expression — it burned itself into Winter's eyes.
Jang Hee-bin, who had hovered on the edge of completion for so long, finally came together.
Resentment toward Yeom-ga became resentment toward Sukjong, and Seoryeong — who risked her life to protect the world — became Hee-bin, who risked her life because she couldn't bear to accept reality.
Yeom-ga is hatred. Jeong-an is attachment.
By contrast, everything Seoryeong felt toward Myeong-do was pure and precious, down to the last thread.
Tender, aching emotions — ones that had no business belonging to Hee-bin, who was scorned for her status and clawed her way to survival through the palace's merciless ranks.
At last, the emotions Do Gyeo-ul needed to pull from her own memory sharpened into focus.
Seoryeong when she's beside Myeong-do — I don't have to take all of that.
She made Jeong-an the emotional core, layered over the feelings Hee-bin might have harbored back when she still had no idea what kind of man Sukjong truly was.
The emotions of an abused child toward a new guardian she transmuted into the wary first love of a girl from a rigidly conservative era; the scene where Seoryeong hunts down flower shoes to replace worn ones became Hee-bin, fallen in love, laying out her next move for Sukjong.
Thud — thud — thud —
Her heart pounded. Her mind spun at breakneck speed. Every Seoryeong she had replayed over and over from Strange Tales came vividly alive inside Do Gyeo-ul's head.
Winter closed her eyes.
Through the darkness, Seoryeong appeared.
The boyishly dressed Seoryeong removed her horsehair hat and let her hair fall loose. Her clothes had somehow become the pink jeogori of Hee-bin; the braided ribbon-hair turned into an ornate ceremonial wig, with costly jewels threaded between its strands. Before she knew it, gold-leaf patterns had spread across her garments.
And layered over it all — deadly resolve.
The Seoryeong struggling on the ritual board had become Jang Hee-bin. Do Gyeo-ul blurred away Seoryeong's features, then pressed her own face over them.
It was the moment Jang Hee-bin was completed, flawless, inside her mind.
Through the speaker, Summer's precise diction drove into her ears.
"Sangbaekcheonjon-eoncheonjondaejacheonjondaeseongwigunsaengbuwimanyeongsageumjajetcheon…."
Winter opened her eyes. In the dim room, only the screen glowed bright, Seoryeong's face floating upon it. Watching Seoryeong weep pitifully as she called Myeong-do's name, Do Gyeo-ul ran the numbers.
If I splice in the first-meeting scene with Myeong-do from episode 2, right before episode 16's howling-grief scene…
She had reverse-engineered Jang Hee-bin out of Han Yeo-reum's Seoryeong like solving a formula. With an unhurried hand, Do Gyeo-ul picked up the Dohwaseon script resting on the tea table — and burst out laughing.
"Ahaha!"
Where Seoryeong on the screen wept, Do Gyeo-ul's laughter was steeped in pure delight.
"Ah… I can't wait."
And so Winter waited only for the day she'd meet Summer up close again.
When she stepped out of the van. When she waved from the mint carpet. And when she finally crossed into the venue itself.
"It's been a while."
Winter looked at no one but Summer.
Do Gyeo-ul's table was, naturally, front and center — the main seat. Whether her agency had pulled strings or not, Han Yeo-reum had been placed a shade behind Winter. It was, in its own way, a power struggle.
"Right. It has been a while."
This was not the Han Yeo-reum of before. Not the girl who'd been seated next to her in that lecture hall and toyed with like a plaything. Not a trace of conspicuous discomfort, no unexplained line drawn between them.
Something… settled about her.
Watching Summer, Do Gyeo-ul quietly learned something.
Why does this seat have to be so cursed.
Ki Joo-ye at eight o'clock. Do Gyeo-ul at two. From one side, a gaze seething with revenge; from the other, a gaze of clammy, watchful observation.
So this is the life of a star….
A real star — the kind that drives lovelorn fans insane. I'll just have to bear the weight of popularity with grace.
Though "fan" feels somehow off, at least where one of them is concerned….
I stared at Do Gyeo-ul's profile with dead-fish eyes.
Right. Correcting my own records: not a fan. A stalker.
I took an elegant sip of the water set before me.
"If you let something this trivial rattle you, what will you do later on?"
It had been barely a heartbeat, but Geum Bit-gang must have caught the shift in my expression, because she spoke up.
Well, Professor, for the record — it wasn't the awards I was nervous about….
Beside me, Kwon Jun-hyuk — pomade slicked back, bangs swept up to match my retro styling — nodded his head furiously.
"Th-that's right! A little awards show like this really is nothing, nothing at all…!"
"Honestly, Jun-hyuk, you've been to plenty of award shows. Why are you this nervous?"
"First time — f-first time as an actor, you see…."
The Le-el Style Awards had grown since last year — a far more lavish affair. The number of cameras on standby had nearly doubled.
Everyone… please, point those cameras at me….
After all, the heir to Geum Bit-gang, the actress who will lead the Republic of Korea, is in her precious rookie era right now….
I let the gentle hum of camera therapy wash over me and steadied my rattled body and mind.
Around then, the lights shifted. The show was beginning.
"Thank you all for attending the Le-el Style Awards. Now, shall we move on to selecting this year's icons?"
Striding onto the stage with easy confidence, microphone in hand, was Myeong Je-ha. Our eyes met for a brief moment. He looked at me the way he had at the Seoul International Drama Awards.
But I'm not nervous anymore.
I had the calm of a judge whose verdict was already written.
If they don't hand Seoryeong a trophy here tonight, the internet will riot about a rigged ceremony. Obviously.
I casually lifted my chin. Myeong Je-ha smiled, eyes crinkling.
"First of all, for the Iconic Style category…."
The ceremony rolled on between bursts of flashbulbs. One by one, the year's most talked-about names were called.
And through it all, I hoped mine would be called as late as humanly possible.
"Awarded to the one who has shown the most innovative growth, this category is — Trailblazer of the Year…."
I wanted a better award than Do Gyeo-ul. Even if it wasn't for acting, in any field at all, I wanted to stand above her — because someday, I wanted that composed profile of hers to wear a look of impatience caused by me.
"Do Gyeo-ul."
Exactly as I wished, her name was called.
Do Gyeo-ul sat for a moment, savoring the sound of her own name, then rose unhurriedly. Accepting the bouquet folded into her arms, she gave a brief acceptance speech.
Her gaze never left me the entire time.
The instant Do Gyeo-ul returned to her seat, the next award was announced.
"For the most-wanted performer who captivated audiences with her astonishing range — the honors go to…."
Myeong Je-ha added flourishes he hadn't bothered with for any of the previous winners. Adjusting the trophy in his hand lightly, he spoke.
"Han Yeo-reum. Congratulations."
One point behind. It was a single point, but the thought that I'd edged past Do Gyeo-ul, even briefly, made my head swim.
Geum Bit-gang signaled with a glance, and Kwon Jun-hyuk beside me broke into a bright grin and applauded. Just as I rose from my seat to head for the stage —
— a pulling hand swept me into someone's embrace.
A faint, lovely scent of flowers.
"Do Gyeo-ul…."
Do Gyeo-ul, holding me, whispered right against my ear.
"Congratulations, Summer."
The cameras were rolling. Flashes were popping off all around us. What kind of expression was I supposed to make right now? Do Gyeo-ul's hand patted my back. As if we were genuinely close — so that to everyone watching, we'd look like the best of friends.
"You have to beat Ki Joo-ye. You must not lose. Seize that role, no matter what…."
Caught off guard by Do Gyeo-ul's ambush, I could neither pull away nor push back. A stiff upturn of the lips was the best I could manage.
What am I supposed to do in a situation like this?
Just as my brain briefly blue-screened —
"Entertain me."
Do Gyeo-ul released me. She was slightly taller than me, so the first thing to enter my vision was her lips. She mouthed the word.
Fighting.
I slowly raised my gaze upward. It was a look I'd seen once before.
"If I were you, I'd have stood on that stage even with my legs broken."
The last words of sincerity Do Gyeo-ul had ever spoken to me, just before I regressed.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. I could almost feel the pain of being hit by that car rushing back over me.
"Yes — you two look so lovely together. But now, if you'd please accept your trophy?"
It was Myeong Je-ha's voice that finally woke me.
"Actor of the Year, Han Yeo-reum."
Actor. Han Yeo-reum.
Ridiculously, it was that obvious little word that made my legs move. I passed Do Gyeo-ul and stepped up onto the stage.
The smooth, solid trophy filled my grip with its weight. Bright lights burned down hot above my head, and the flashes went off in waves.
I took one long, deep breath.
"Thank you for an honor far greater than I deserve."
Who am I? Han Yeo-reum, the woman whose fan café gained thirty-four new members today and twenty-seven brand-new posts.
Recalling the words I'd memorized one syllable at a time right up until I walked into the venue, all my fear melted away. Trophy clutched in hand, I held Do Gyeo-ul's gaze for a long moment.
So this is a fashion magazine awards show for now.
But soon I'll be walking into the network award shows too. The film festivals too. And there, I'll take every single trophy you ever won.
"Going forward, I promise to return before you always — with good acting, in the form of a truly great actress."
Because I am Han Yeo-reum, actress.
"Summer is so cute I could die…."
At that very moment, Ae-ta-mi was crying over having missed this year's Le-el Style Awards, working overtime at the office.
The stretch from August into September had a whole lineup of seasonal promotions waiting in the wings, and so the ad agency employee was once again drowning in work.
"It's worse on the days there's no Strange Tales…."
Even soothing her bleary eyes with official photos of Summer, Ae-ta-mi felt hollow. The lingering afterglow of Strange Tales' final episode, seen in the theater, was clearly going to shadow her luckless fan life for years to come.
"But hey — there's a live stream tonight!"
JC ENM's instincts were still razor sharp. Fitting for the very first broadcaster channel in the country to hit one million subscribers.
Following Faster Than the Law, the First Car Live that had captured all the warmth of that afterparty dinner already had its "Premiere" button lit up before it was even uploaded.