This Could Be Fun

This could be fun.

Articles about the Seoul Short Film Festival poured out in a flood.

Short films.

They were a kind of stepping stone — a platform that could carry you onto a bigger stage. That was why rookie directors and the actors who signed on for them, investors hunting to lock down promising new talent early, and die-hard film maniacs all flocked to them. Anyone outside that circle, frankly, had zero interest in short films. Most of the general public probably didn't even know a short film festival existed.

In the end, that was about the size of a short film's place in the world.

And here was an actress who had entered one herself and still couldn't care less about the festival.

Clack-clack-clack—

Furious typing.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!"

It ended with a chat ban for severe profanity, and she completely lost it.

CRACK!!

Yet another high-end keyboard met its untimely end.

"Ugh! This is so stressful!"

Why did Ara put herself through this much stress just to keep playing games?

It went like this.

Back when everyone else had given up, she had been the only one still carving her own path across the battlefield. The so-called backdoor specialist. Everyone cursed her out for it, but she was relentless — and that effort eventually bore fruit. The criticism turned into praise. The shouting turned into cheers.

How could anyone forget that taste?

That was it. She was a dopamine addict. That was why she played games. Wasn't everyone like that, deep down?

"If I'd never known what it felt like, I could've quit cold…."

So then why didn't Ara just use her special privilege?

Of course she'd tried. After watching it work on Randy Jones before the match, she'd naturally given it a shot herself. The target: the most famous pro gamer of the moment, who went by the nickname Deceive — or Fake.

"Th-the game's too easy…!"

It was a slaughter. At the same rank, nobody could touch her.

"This is boring…."

A deep sense of emptiness settled over her. From that day on, Ara never used her special privilege in a game again.

"Alright, time to head out?"

Ara — a hardcore homebody — started getting ready to leave. Ever since she'd first started working out, a new hobby had taken root: the gym. The sense of accomplishment that came with breaking a sweat, plus the fact that it would clearly help with the upcoming Invincible Baseball appearance, meant there was no reason not to go.

"Ugh, what a pain."

Going to the gym itself wasn't the annoying part. Everything leading up to it was.

She threw on workout clothes. No leggings, obviously. Those were embarrassing. She had no idea how people managed to exercise in them.

Even in the heat, the mask and cap were non-negotiable now. As if that still wasn't enough, Ara picked up the contact lens case from her desk and slipped the lenses into her eyes with practiced ease.

"Mm! I've done this enough times that it doesn't even bother me anymore."

In the mirror, her eyes had turned black.

Whoosh— whoosh—

She twisted this way and that in front of the mirror, checking herself over.

"Perfect."

Armed with the absolute conviction that nobody would recognize her, she headed down to the residents-only gym in her officetel building.

Ara arrived at the gym.

'That's Gil Ara.'

'Gil Ara, right?'

'Is that Gil Ara?'

'Whoa, Gil Ara actually works out here?'

'She's pretty even all covered up…….'

Everyone recognized her. Ara's disguise was meaningless.

But the people at the gym were all decent. Not a single one of them approached her.

'Well, look how hard she tried to hide.'

'I'd feel bad saying anything.'

'She even put in colored contacts.'

And Ara?

'Heh heh— see? Nobody recognized me.'

Sometimes, ignorance really was bliss.

After her workout, Ara came to YW with Nam Tae-woo.

"Ara. Take a look at this."

Jeong Yeo-un swiveled his monitor around to show her something.

"This is…? Why?"

It was her fan club, Giljabi, and Citrin Salon's Itstar account.

"Why do you think? These are all your fans."

"You shot a short film this time, right?"

"Yes."

"You should do a little promotion for it, don't you think?"

'Promotion? Didn't we already do that?'

Two actors from AC had been in it with her, so the articles had already gone out plenty. Ara couldn't figure out what more there was to promote.

"Did some kind of offer come in?"

"Offers come in steadily. But that's not what I mean."

Jeong Yeo-un pointed a finger at Ara.

"You should promote it to your fans yourself. These are people who like you — going completely silent on them isn't a great look."

"Ah. But how would I do that?"

"Hmm. Anything, really? Post something on the fan café, or go live…."

!

In that instant, Jeong Yeo-un realized he'd misspoken.

'If I put this kid on a live stream, who knows what she'll pull….'

"A post! How about just writing a post?"

"Live? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠How does that work?"

But it was already too late.

"Uh, huh?"

"I'll do it. The live stream."

Ara was already locked onto the idea of going live.

'This could be fun.'

'Damn it….'

The water was already spilled. Just look at that expression. This was not a kid who would listen if you tried to talk her out of it.

'Hold on. Thinking about it, she hasn't actually caused any major disasters, has she?'

It wasn't like she'd been caught drinking or smoking. She'd said she didn't do either of those in the first place. The problem had always been that she kept showing unexpected sides of herself. And the mysterious-persona concept was already long gone — so what was there to worry about?

'Maybe I've been overthinking it. Ara's pretty mature for her age, after all.'

Just look at Yu Ha-yeong.

'When is that kid ever going to grow out of that….'

There had been an incident once.