A Trophy With My Name on It

Once we moved inside, a bigger, deeper beat swelled up through the dim lighting, filling the whole venue. A mint table—the signature color of the Le-el Style Awards—bore a card with my name on it.

My name, in a place like this. That alone was enough to make my heart feel full. I hurried straight to my seat and plopped down.

My seat. The actress Han Yeo-reum's seat.

"Hey. Were your legs hurting that badly? Fine, just sit there."

Ju Jun-seo went over to the catering station and brought back a glass of champagne—my portion. Right next to my name card sat Ju Jun-seo's, lined up side by side.

"Just smile moderately in here. Slip up once and they'll run an article about how you got drunk."

"Oh... thank you. Truly the best senior anyone could ask for. From this moment on, I'm clamping my mouth shut."

"You're that happy about it?"

"Of course. I'm so honored today that keeping my expression under control is actually hard."

That was one thing I hadn't even considered. If an article came out saying I'd gotten tipsy at an awards party, that would be a disaster. I fixed my expression.

Inside the darker venue, Ju Jun-seo's face grew even more convincing—those sharp, sensitive features of his paired perfectly with the delicately designed tattoo sticker just below his ear.

Le-el Style Awards party, live coverage... something like that for next month's issue, and the broadcast will give it a quick segment.

Looking around, I spotted several large cameras here too. I could roughly predict how the event would unfold.

Going by the reaction outside just now—success.

My plan was simple. First, pull all the attention onto my outfit. Ryu Risa's styling was so flawless it was hard to believe it had been thrown together overnight—casual and clean, perfectly right for a twenty-year-old to wear.

Best of all, no one would guess I was wearing the same product Do Gyeo-ul had on.

And second, give them something worth writing about. Right now, Pachehi was the most I had to my name—so I'd drop tidbits like the fact that I was currently enrolled at K-Arts, or that I'd soon be appearing in an MBS one-act drama. Not a single reporter over there would know those things yet.

So I have to catch someone's eye here in person.

If I slipped up, I'd end up with a dead-fish-eyes headline straight out of my Pachehi character. That, and only that, I had to avoid.

Which is why I chose this: the rookie version of the awards show, one you can only use once.

Fortunately, the Le-el Style Awards was exactly the kind of place where I could pull off that look. If I tried it at a genuinely prestigious ceremony, I'd get roasted as an insufferable concept-chaser.

Han Yeo-reum, you genius... are you a genius?

I pressed down hard on the corners of my mouth as they tried to climb up again.

It was just after Ju Jun-seo had left my side, telling me to behave quietly for a while, when ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I spotted Do Gyeo-ul in the distance. Celebrities of every stripe were coming up to greet her, as if she were the star of the entire event.

A top actress really is on a different level.

Wherever she went, Do Gyeo-ul became the main character. Her seat was dead center of the dais, in the best possible spot.

Then, just then, Do Gyeo-ul turned her head my way and our eyes met. She didn't look away—she held my gaze steadily. For a moment, we simply...

"Hey there."

"Wa—! You startled me."

—looked at each other. A familiar voice behind me made me jump out of my skin. Myeong Je-ha, in a light gray suit, was smiling down at me.

"What are you doing here...?"

"That's harsh. I dressed up and everything. Doesn't it suit the venue?"

"No, it suits you perfectly. You're the most handsome man here. As expected of Myeong Je-ha. The ultimate face."

Worried about the cameras, I hid my mouth behind my cocktail glass while flattering him shamelessly. Myeong Je-ha laughed brightly and took the seat beside mine.

I hadn't noticed earlier, but on closer look, it was Myeong Je-ha's name card.

"Ahh, thank you kindly... But you mean that? Sincerity feels a little thin here."

"Totally genuine. One hundred percent."

"Haha. Then I'll have to mention it when they interview me. 'Han Yeo-reum told me I have the best face here.'"

"Please refrain."

I could already see the future where the hate comments called me 'boy-crazy Han Yeo-reum'...

Looking at my hollow dead-fish eyes, Myeong Je-ha laughed again.

"I got invited, for your information. And as you so kindly pointed out, the best face has a duty to attend."

"Je-ha, seriously, watch ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what you say or a camera will catch it. You're kind of insufferable, you know that?"

"I appreciate the advice. Oh—it's starting."

Ji Hae-beom and Eun Baek-hap stepped up onto the dais. A roar of cheering shook the hall. Shutters clicked in a relentless storm, and flashbulbs burst dazzlingly.

"Good evening. I'm Ji Hae-beom, MC for the very first Le-el Style Awards."

"And I'm Eun Baek-hap."

The moment it began, Ju Jun-seo slipped back into the seat beside me and leaned in, lowering his voice.

"Hey. Don't freak out, just listen. And keep your face under control."

"Yes. What is it?"

"You're winning third award in the sequence. Don't grin like you did earlier when you go up. They'll be filming, and that footage is going to make the broadcast."

What had I just heard?

I was winning an award?

Impossible. I'd come here without giving trophies a single thought. Best Dresser was nothing more than a verbal nod from reporters and stylists—the kind of thing you couldn't get your name engraved on the same day.

I'd assumed that awards at events like this went to the hugely famous, or to celebrities riding some hot moment in the public eye.

And yet I'm... actually receiving one? Holding a real trophy in my hands?

For a second, my brain simply stopped working. Whether it was anticipation or nerves, my heart pounded until it ached.

"The MUSIC & STYLE Award selected by the first Le-el Style Awards. The recipient is..."

Ji Hae-beom's voice kept echoing together with the pounding of my heart, dizzying me. Unconsciously, I was clapping along with everyone else, eyes fixed on each winner as they were called. And then the next one, and the next...

"The WOMAN OF INSPIRATION Award selected by the first Le-el Style Awards. The recipient is..."

Here it was. My turn.

"Han Yeo-reum, for her role as Pi Chae-won in The Cherry on Top of the Parfait Belongs to the Heroine. Congratulations."

It wasn't some grand award. It was a tiny, tiny trophy—if I mentioned it to people, most wouldn't even understand what I'd won. And yet.

Still.

My name was engraved on the trophy I accepted. Clutching the bouquet to my chest, I stood in front of the microphone.

"Yes... thank you so much for this meaningful award, and..."

I didn't know what else to say. I hadn't come expecting to win anything.

And honestly, it didn't feel real. I was so, so nervous that my ears had gone numb.

"I hope you'll invite me again next year. I mean it, truly..."

Laughter rippled through the audience. Only then did some of the tension drain away. I looked down at the person seated closest to the stage. Do Gyeo-ul. For the first time, I looked down at her.

The harsh lighting and flashes made her face hard to see clearly... but even so, in that moment I finally felt it—the stolen name being found again, piece by piece.

Dding-!

Bathed in the stage lights, the trophy gleamed brighter than anything else in the room.

Jjing-.

Sitting beside Je-ha, Yeo-reum couldn't keep the corners of her mouth from curling upward no matter how she tried. She lifted the bouquet to her nose, snapped a photo of it, squeezed the trophy in her hand one more time—she was busy being happy every single second.

For a trifling little trophy, she was grinning like she owned the whole world.

I suppose she's earned the right.

Before the regression, a Han Yeo-reum like that wouldn't have won an award at something like a style awards show—she wouldn't even have been invited in the first place. Myeong Je-ha's memories contained no Han Yeo-reum at all.

And she didn't just win an award, either.

On top of that, one of Le-el's art designers had shown interest in Han Yeo-reum.

"Han Yeo-reum! I loved Pachehi. The editing, the whole feel of it—it was so refreshing. Loved it. Let's work on something together next time."

"Work with you? W-...work?"

"Why are you so shocked? Your profile shots, and that photoshoot from a while back—the one where you were holding a plum? It made quiet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rounds among us too."

This wasn't a polite courtesy remark. A Le-el art designer had no reason to offer hollow pleasantries to a rookie with no agency behind her.

She simply wants to work with the trendiest rising newcomer out there. That's all it is.

Serendipity built on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seven parts luck and three parts wit—no world made the formula fit better than the entertainment industry.

Actors are products. The whole system only runs when the public consumes a well-crafted image.

With Dokgo Min on board, and Dokgo Gyeol, and Ryu Risa besides...

And now, Han Yeo-reum was the most eye-catching celebrity on the scene—branded to perfection, spreading her own name without so much as lifting a finger toward viral marketing.

"You can drop me off here, actually. Thank you so much again for today! Next time, I'll make sure you ride in my car, Manager."

"Thank you for what...? Though I have to wonder—will there ever be a day I ride in your car, Yeo-reum?"

Je-ha handed a shopping bag to Yeo-reum, who was earnestly promising to repay the manager who'd chauffeured her.

"Yeo-reum. Take this with you."