The Black Dress on the Mannequin
"Hey. Don't panic. That's actually a good sign. Every time that noona acts a little out of her mind, the results end up amazing. Just stay calm."
I know. I used to be one of her subscribers.
She's secretly a real softie under all that flair — the more you look, the more you see it.
But there was no need to explain that to Ju Jun-seo, who was clearly trying to reassure me.
"I was genuinely nervous, so thank you. You really are the best, Ju Jun-seo. Best senior ever."
As if our conversation didn't even register, Ryu Risa stayed frozen in place. For a moment, that is.
"Ahhh! Your hair! Hand this over! Flip it halfway back like this — and who's going to unbutton this? A raw, edgy piece like this only sings when it's peeking out from between refined clothes! Button it up!"
"You're choking me!!!"
Wax in hand, Ryu Risa grabbed Jun-seo's head and ruffled his hair into reckless disarray, then fastened the top button of his shirt like she was strangling him.
She didn't stop there. She slipped a few chunky silver rings from the counter onto his fingers. She'd only touched up a few details, but the difference was unmistakable.
"Ahhhh! That's it! That's the one!!!"
Ryu Risa, still gripping Jun-seo, whipped her head toward me so fast you could almost hear it whoosh through the air.
"You! Come here! Stand next to him, now!!!"
I did as she said and quickly took my place beside Jun-seo. Covering her mouth with both hands, Ryu Risa murmured to herself as if remembering something.
"Kingsman meets a lady… a bond kept for years… but kind of a hitman…?"
Ryu Risa looked so overcome that Jun-seo had to explain for her.
"Hey. Don't panic. Even if you want to run, hold it in. Got it? Hard to believe, but it really is a good sign. Every single job that noona's been called a legend for, she acted this unhinged."
I knew that too. I had Ryu Risa's tastes catalogued down to the last detail.
"Me? I like things a little natural and everyday. Daily looks are fine, but what really makes my heart race is taking what's inside my head and bringing it to life as-is. Yes! Editorial shoots! Conceptual stuff is where it's at."
Ryu Risa was a full-blown otaku.
"A clean black dress is lovely, and a crisp white shirt dress… Ahh. Why did I go red with the hair again? Hm? If only it were jet black like in Pachehi… no, no, wait. Actually it pairs better with the mint carpet… ah…!"
Above her head, her artistry stat seemed to spark like a short-circuiting firework. I spoke to her quietly.
"Did I pass?"
At my question, Ryu Risa made an incredulous face, as if to say, why would you even ask that?
"Of course!"
Sweeping a hand roughly through her hair, she looked at me with eyes full of delight.
"Yeo-reum, you're… pretty sharp, aren't you? Mm-hm. This kind of eye, this kind of instinct — you almost never see it. Right. In this whole showroom, the person guaranteed to steal every gaze is Jun-seo. Great pick."
Ryu Risa patted my shoulder. That was enough for me.
"I'm honestly slammed right now… but I'm going to put in way more care than I expected to. Just for you. Genuinely special."
It was my first-ever red carpet at an awards ceremony. Somewhere, it felt like someone was shouting that Best Dresser already belonged to Han Yeo-reum.
"This one is my favorite. Please pass along the message that I'm taking it before the male lead gets locked in."
"You've already read through all those scripts?"
"Yes. All of them. Not a single one left."
Do Gyeo-ul tossed a single script onto the passenger seat of the van.
It was a script featuring a character that could properly channel what Han Yeo-reum had shown her as Pi Chae-won.
"Ah, Gyeo-ul. Yes. Good thinking! Great choice! Investors are almost all in, and the director's last film got a decent reception. I knew you'd make the shrewd pick."
Gyeo-ul's agency director beamed, clearly delighted that his star had finally settled on her next project.
"So, does this mean — we're officially back in action?"
"Yes. I want to start filming as soon as possible."
Gyeo-ul called the character on the page back to mind one more time.
A young woman running the guesthouse her late grandmother had left her. Lonely by nature, yet bright and endearing to her core. Much like Hina, the character Chae-won had played in Pachehi.
So I don't lose that feeling.
On the surface, though, she would put on a stern, serious front — the dignified proprietress of a guesthouse.
The exact opposite of Han Yeo-reum's Chae-won — which was precisely the point. A deliberate choice to disguise how closely she'd studied and copied it.
At Gyeo-ul's words, the director broke into a wide grin. It was, after all, the perfect opportunity for a child actress to pull off a serious image transformation.
"Alright, then! Let's fire our opening shot at the Le-el Style Awards. Do Gyeo-ul's triumphant return, at last! Let's pull a trendy, clean headline while we're at it."
Gyeo-ul nodded absently, her expression flat.
"A brief intro speech at the ceremony should do it. Great optics, too~."
Apart from a few token appearances, this would be her first real public event. And yet she felt nothing — no flutter of excitement, no nerves, nothing at all.
Only one thing made the present Gyeo-ul feel anything at all.
Han Yeo-reum…
"Oh — I've got your final fitting, so stop by this evening or sometime tomorrow morning."
As she stepped into Ryu Risa's styling office, she caught the tail end of a phone call. The youngest assistant, whose eyes met Gyeo-ul's, called out to Ryu Risa.
"Actress Do Gyeo-ul is here—!"
"Then hang up~."
Ryu Risa, who had been standing in front of a mannequin, flashed a bright smile and came over.
That expression…
Gyeo-ul had a habit of studying the way other people reacted to things. She had to, after all — it was one of her survival mechanisms, the only way to copy emotions she couldn't feel herself. Gyeo-ul stared hard at Ryu Risa.
"From here to here — let's start by choosing whatever catches your eye, Gyeo-ul. Personally, I'd—"
Gyeo-ul ignored her and let her gaze slide away.
There has to be a dress in here that made Ryu Risa look like that.
Judging by the call she'd just interrupted, whatever had put that smile on Ryu Risa's face was a garment the person on the other end of the line would be wearing.
Gyeo-ul's eyes swept the office until one piece caught them. She looked at the black mini dress draped over the mannequin.
That's the one.
It was nothing like what usually suited Do Gyeo-ul. And yet, whenever Ryu Risa got this worked up, that exact kind of piece always ended up on her shortlist of triumphs.
"Director-nim."
Gyeo-ul spoke without taking her eyes off the mannequin.
"I'll wear that one."
"…That one? Which one would that be?"
"That black dress over there. The mini."
Ryu Risa's face froze, transparently. Gyeo-ul jerked her chin at her own director — a silent order to fetch it.
"Team Leader Ryu, why don't we give this to our Gyeo-ul?"
The quick-witted director immediately started pandering to her. It was the moment the youngest assistant scrambled to take the dress off the mannequin.
"Leave that exactly where it is. Don't touch the zipper."
Ryu Risa's expression hardened. The smile she'd worn seconds ago had vanished without a trace.
"Gyeo-ul. What, you don't like the dresses I picked out for you? That doesn't seem possible."
"I like that one."
Gyeo-ul stated her wishes clearly, enunciating every word.
It wasn't as if snatching another actor's clothes like this was anything unusual. Sponsors, for their part, preferred having a bigger celebrity wear their pieces anyway.
"So. You want it?"
"Yes. Give it to me."
Ryu Risa's expression didn't thaw, but Gyeo-ul had no doubt whatsoever that the dress would end up hers.
Beside her sweetly smiling client, the director chimed in as well.
"Come on now, come on! Team Leader Ryu, just look at it — that's clearly not an Eun Baek-hap piece, hm~? Our Gyeo-ul would look even better in it! It goes to whoever it suits best, right? Right! What brand is that, anyway? We'll reach out to them separately, of course."
The youngest assistant was hovering, unsure what to do with herself.
Then Ryu Risa, who had been staring straight at Gyeo-ul, raised her right hand and waved it in a gesture of sheer exasperation.
"Ugh, forget it. Not happening."
"…I'm sorry?"
"I said no. I don't wreck my own compositions. Ever."
For a moment, Gyeo-ul doubted her own ears.
Recognition, public appeal, advertising clout — among everyone attending the Le-el Style Awards, you could count on one hand the celebrities who might beat Do Gyeo-ul.
Gyeo-ul was the top of the very top. Ryu Risa couldn't possibly behave like this.
Soon, a flicker of puzzlement surfaced in Gyeo-ul's mind.
"Team Leader Ryu! Isn't that reaction a bit excessive? Our actress went out of her way to—"
"You either pick from the dresses I've laid out, or if you don't like them, you ask me to pull a new lineup. Those are the only two options. Taking other clothes out of here was never on Ryu Risa's menu. Ever."
Ryu Risa was being deliberately difficult.
By now, curiosity had elbowed past every other emotion Gyeo-ul felt. So, smile still fixed in place, she asked in her silkiest voice.
"Who's it for? That dress."
A certain instinct gripped her. She had to find out — who the dress belonged to, and who it was that had put that smile on Ryu Risa's face.
"Figure it out yourself. What would you do with the answer?"
"No, Team Leader Ryu! Is it really necessary to snub me just for asking a name?"
At some point, Gyeo-ul's director had started hopping up and down in indignation. He thought it outrageous that a stylist would behave this way in front of his actress.
"Then I'm not leaving until you tell me."
"Ha… and here I thought you were such a well-mannered, sweet girl, Gyeo-ul. Guess I was wrong? You know throwing a tantrum with a smile on your face doesn't actually work on me. Does it?"
"I'm just hurt, that's all~. And I am rather curious who our Team Leader Ryu is dressing like this. Give me just the name, and I'll stop whining. I'm sorry."
God, this image management is such a pain. Gyeo-ul smiled while serving up the most plausible excuse she could muster.
If she said what was actually on her mind in this situation, she knew exactly where she'd end up — hauled in front of her father yet again.
Even when Gyeo-ul's judgment was right, the scripted routine was always the same: sit there and endure Do Mun-jeong's lectures, word for word.
If you're going to tell me, then just tell me — why keep being difficult? What is going on?
Her expression management was starting to fray at the edges.
Gyeo-ul forced down the question clawing its way up her throat. Who on earth could it be—
"Han Yeo-reum. Got it?"
The sweetly smiling face went stone cold.