A and B
“Let's go to the winter sea, where the snow falls.”
Gyeo-ul's quiet voice spread through the filming set. MBS had now followed JC ENM's lead and established its own web content division, and SBC and KBC were sure to follow before long.
“When the white snow piles high over the sea, come back to me then.”
Among the flood of self-produced content about to pour out, whatever Jegal Rok chose and Han Yeo-reum created, everyone would carve off a piece for themselves.
“For the years that are turning cold.”
Add Jegal Rok's name value to Han Yeo-reum's face value, and the two together produced the synergy they were putting out now.
The people who had noticed this was neither luck nor coincidence were not about to sit still. Their attention would inevitably converge on JC ENM.
“Let's not come back before the snow settles.”
Similar content would pour out without pause, and the spotlight would scatter. The more solid an existing core fanbase, the better the odds. Algorithms run on simple principles, after all.
The kind of thing I'd watch myself.
And Han Yeo-reum's personal core fanbase, as of now, was woefully small compared to the people drooling to snatch away her buzz.
“Even if this is the last time we meet.”
Right now she had InTube for wings and was riding her upward momentum, but what if everyone charged into the InTube market all at once?
Growth would get a whole lot slower than it is now.
At the thought, the corners of Gyeo-ul's mouth curled up naturally.
Acting was a profession where even appearing before the public once a year was a struggle. And in this industry, being the first at something had never counted for much.
“Even a farewell forever would be fine.”
In a world that remembered only the best, Do Gyeo-ul wanted to climb up by stepping on Han Yeo-reum.
Do Gyeo-ul's ASMR videos went up one after another the day after the trailer dropped. Simply carrying Do Gyeo-ul's name, simply featuring Do Gyeo-ul's face in the thumbnail, was enough.
Settling onto the trending charts in under twenty-four hours was no difficult feat.
The thumbnail, dominated by Do Gyeo-ul's enormous face, caught the eye. Beyond the Closed Door, Do Gyeo-ul's first starring role, was set to air in November — and here it was, only October, already being counted among the most anticipated dramas of the season.
It was a romantic comedy set at a winter pension, and at the very least it was a feast for the eyes. Thanks to the support of the Gangwon-do tourism office, everything captured within the frame was undeniably beautiful.
“It really does feel like the snow opens up before you. The cinematography is gorgeous, to start with.”
Reporter Wi, aka DramaGeek.B, checked the entertainment section. It would be no exaggeration to say Do Gyeo-ul had conquered positions one through ten. The calculation came instantly.
“This drama is going to walk off with all the year-end buzz, isn't it….”
A senior's words came back to her. If the premiere pulled ratings in the five percent range, it wouldn't take long for the portal sites' front pages to be buried under Do Gyeo-ul's face.
Not that critics, industry insiders, and the public weren't already anticipating Do Gyeo-ul's next project.
“There hasn't been a single romance worth talking about this year.”
MBS's miniseries had just tasted the bitterness of failure with an early cancellation. SBC and KBC hadn't managed to push any romance past ten percent either. In the drama-fan communities, they were already calling this year the romance-drama drought.
…And Pachehi rode that shortage for all it was worth, didn't it.
Scrolling through the comments, Reporter Wi thought back to the interview Gyeo-ul had given a while ago.
To the Gyeo-ul who was still so exemplary, so upright, so grown in a way that made it impossible for anyone not to like her.
If you had to sum up Do Gyeo-ul in one word, it would be this:
A model answer sheet.
She seemed to live her life without a single wrong answer on it.
On Gyeo-ul's social media, comments from overseas fans lined up in a steady stream. Among current actresses ranked by follower count, Do Gyeo-ul sat comfortably inside the top ten.
Responses were rolling in from the domestic market and the overseas market alike.
Reporter Wi thought back to that last interview, the one where Gyeo-ul had gone out of her way to request her specifically. Even that day, Do Gyeo-ul had been unchanged — answering every question smoothly in that polished voice.
“Your debut fifteenth anniversary is coming up. Could you share a word with your fans about how you feel about acting these days?”
Do Gyeo-ul, who had answered everything without a moment's hesitation, as if she'd rehearsed every possible reply in advance, paused briefly at the final question.
“…I'll show you a version of me that's very different from before. Like a different person entirely… you'll see me grow. Please look forward to it.”
There was something unsettling in the way her eyes went cold for that instant, but she was still Do Gyeo-ul.
That interview, which had held the number one spot on Daily Media's interview section for two straight weeks, was racking up clicks all over again — courtesy of the newly uploaded trailer.
Do Gyeo-ul's name was climbing back to the top, inch by inch.
I stared at Do Gyeo-ul on my phone screen. Insane algorithm. Rearing her face on my feed.
…But seeing her like this really drives it home.
We were in different weight classes.
Do Gyeo-ul was already out there sweeping up every spotlight in sight.
The trailer, the script reading, the still cuts dripping out one by one — even an ASMR video. Anything with Do Gyeo-ul's face in it was standing dead center of the conversation.
Once it actually airs, nothing I've got will even be comparable….
How big would she get? The moment the thought formed, anxiety started gnawing at me again.
To be honest, I'd clicked on that ASMR video of Do Gyeo-ul's too. The comments were packed so densely it made my own earlier uploads look like a different species.
Over ten years since her debut. Her core fanbase might as well be poured concrete….
Unlike me — clicking through because something trended on SNS or a community, or because the algorithm shoved it in my face — Do Gyeo-ul had fans who searched for her on their own.
Is it just because finals season for the play is coming up?
The mind control wasn't working. This was instinctive anxiety. I knew exactly where and when my life had derailed last time. It was a kind of trauma.
…Not that I needed a reason. Every year when the air turned cold, the first-year final play came back to me anyway….
Dreading this season had calcified into a habit. Whenever I got low for no particular reason, this time of year would surface without warning.
The time I got cut from an extra role. The time the notice about my audition date change never reached me. The time I got muscled out of an audition I'd barely scraped into. The time the revised script went to everyone but me. Every time I turned on the TV and there was Do Gyeo-ul….
“Gyeo-ul!”
Speak of the devil — Gyeo-ul must have just walked in, because her name rang out across the lecture hall again.
Beyond the Closed Door was partially pre-produced, so Gyeo-ul skipped class now and then, but she was still attending school either way. Up in the front rows, the crowd surrounding Gyeo-ul was in full commotion.
“My niece is a huge fan of yours. Could you take one photo with her?”
“Of course. A fan, you say.”
“I've never seen a script-reading video with this many comments. Look at this! I liked every single comment praising you!”
The distance between us felt impossibly far.
I felt like I'd turned back into the pathetic, unknown Han Yeo-reum who used to relive this season over and over.
Exactly like before the regression.
When am I ever going to stand next to Do Gyeo-ul?
The noise around me was slipping out of focus. It reached my ears only as a low, buzzing drone.
And I thought I'd finally caught up, at least a little….
It was probably because I knew only too well how high Do Gyeo-ul had climbed before the regression. The awards she'd racked up alone were beyond counting.
If she accelerated even faster this time around, then I….
“Hi, Yeo-reum.”
“Whoa — you scared me.”
The sensation of someone poking my cheek from behind pulled me out of my head. Myeong Je-ha was watching me like I was the most entertaining thing he'd seen all day.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing….”
“It's never nothing—”
Myeong Je-ha deliberately drew out the word, amusement glinting in his eyes like he already knew everything. I stared straight ahead with dead-fish eyes.
“Someone's anxious, it seems.”
“…Yeah.”
He didn't need the subject stated out loud to know exactly who I meant.
I fixed my eyes on Gyeo-ul again. Even trying not to look, I couldn't stop my gaze from going there.
“Afraid she'll run too far ahead of you?”
“…Yeah.”
I could tell without even seeing it. I could practically picture that high-level Analysis skill hovering above Myeong Je-ha's head.
A quiet laugh sounded behind me.
“I like how honest you are.”
“Why would I hide things from you?”
“Good. Then I'll be honest with you too.”
I felt Myeong Je-ha lean in. The heavy, expensive scent of his perfume — the one that always sharpened my senses — drifted close.
“Something good is about to happen to you. Soon.”
“What is that? Some kind of fortune-cookie hint?”
“Wait and see.”
Before I could turn my head, the lecture hall door swung open.
“All right, everyone, eyes up front.”
Professor Geum Bit-gang's voice filled the room. And a moment later, I understood exactly what Myeong Je-ha had meant.
“I have an announcement about this semester's final play and the public showcase, so listen carefully.”
A murmur rippled through the room at the news that the same theme would be split between Team A and Team B. This meant we were being made to go head-to-head for real.
“Now then — the play's theme: Romeo and Juliet.”
My heart was pounding. My prediction had landed dead on.
Do Gyeo-ul's name first, and then—
My name was called.