An All-Time Drama, in Every Sense (3)

I clamped a hand onto the man's shoulder and tore him off her.

Then I swung Lee Songha, freed from those clamping hands, around behind my back. A small palm met my back, and I felt her fist the fabric of my shirt tight.

"You okay?"

I asked it low. Songha nodded. Nothing showed on her face, but she must have been startled all the same—she stayed plastered to my back with no thought of letting go. Fair enough. Some dark stranger had grabbed her and put his hands all over her. If that hadn't shaken her, that would have been the stranger thing.

I glared at the man, who was still grinning like a fool.

There wasn't a trace of seriousness in his face. If anything, he smacked his lips and kept opening and closing the very hands that had just stroked down Songha's lower back.

"Did I startle you? I'm a fan of Lee Songha. Who knows when a chance like this comes around again. Damn, I'm not washing these hands for days."

"Let's talk outside."

Everything I actually wanted to say had climbed as far as my throat, but there were far too many eyes. Reporters, especially. If I made a scene and words like sexual harassment started flying, the one left in the worst position would be the woman in the spotlight—Lee Songha. Every filthy speculation, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every filthy remark, would come pouring out.

A security guard who had come up quietly led the man off, half dragging him.

Fortunately Seo Ji-joon and the host, having caught what was happening over here, were drawing the crowd's eyes, and Kim Hyunjo had gone to speak with the reporters.

People nearby were murmuring, but even if this made it online, it would probably pass as nothing more than a minor incident.

I let out a breath and turned around again.

"Songha. You're all right now. Come on out."

"Yes."

The voice that came back was faint. Heat surged in my gut, and I pulled in a long breath. I'd heard this sort of thing happened more often than you'd think, but living through it set my insides boiling.

If I didn't dump a bucket of curses on that man, I wasn't going to sleep tonight. I was striding toward where security had taken him when Songha came trailing after me. I turned and found her hand still knotted in the back of my shirt.

"Ah."

As if she hadn't noticed it herself, Songha blinked and let go.

Then she stared at her own hand.

Silence pooled for a few seconds. Just as Songha's lips parted, the host bustled over, spoke to her, and introduced the next fan waiting their turn.

The event rolled on as if nothing had happened.

I texted Kim Hyunjo and asked him to curse that pervert out on my behalf as well.

I couldn't move myself.

Every time I shifted, Songha's eyes followed right after me.

She was acting as if she were fine, but to me she looked anxious, braced for something else to happen. So until the fan event ended, I stayed inside her line of sight.

One side of the stands.

Among the fans howling as they tried to nail the host's quiz, a few were whispering.

"I don't know. I keep losing my nerve. We look like a bunch of small fry."

"Seo Ji-joon's fans are seriously terrifying. I'm shaking so hard I can't even get the quiz right."

They weren't Seo Ji-joon's personal fans, who made up the overwhelming majority of the crowd gathered today, and they weren't drama fans either, the next largest share. They were Neptune fans—the kind who had gone so far as to join the official Neptune fan page.

"I really wanted at least one proof shot with Songha. Doesn't look like that's happening, huh?"

"Once it's all over, let's slip over to the manager oppa."

"The manager? If we go to the manager, will he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠actually do it?" the man in horn-rimmed glasses asked.

The woman whose cheeks still carried a soft roundness of baby fat—her nickname was Meok-Songha—answered while busily photographing Lee Songha.

"Depends who you go to. Neptune has three managers, and two of the oppas are with them all the time. You know them the second you see their faces. One looks incredibly nice. Off the other one, a cold wind just blows."

"So we go to the nice-looking one?" another woman asked this time.

Meok-Songha shook her head, firm.

"That oppa's strangely prickly. It's the other one you have to go after—Jung Sunwoo. People are too scared to talk to him, but every fan who's actually gone up to him ends up begging that oppa. Whatever you ask, he pretty much does it. Takes photos, gets autographs for you."

"For real?"

"Yeah. He doesn't act put-out in a way that embarrasses you, or ignore you, or anything like that. Oh, but once he says no, no amount of begging works. 'No' almost never turns into 'yes.' Completely immovable."

"I should get a look at his face. Is he over there now?"

"Right next to Songha... huh?"

Meok-Songha's eyes went round mid-answer. The man who had gotten the quiz right and gone up onstage suddenly pulled Lee Songha into a hug, then was yanked off by the manager's hand. A moment later he vanished toward the door with security.

It had happened in a flash, but she wasn't the only one who sensed something off. Murmurs drifted through the seats—how rude, and still, how enviable.

But people were more focused on something else than on the man who had hugged Songha and disappeared. Rattled, maybe, by the fan's excessive contact, Lee Songha was stuck fast to the manager's back like a turtle's shell.

"Whoa, a back hug... who's that? Staff?"

"They say he's a manager. What the hell—the manager's the one scoring, with all the fans right here!"

"Look how tight she's stuck to him. I want to buy that guy's back."

People buzzed and snapped photos.

The Neptune fans were no different.

"Wow. Lee Songha always felt like a celebrity living in a different world from us, but seeing her like that, she seems kind of human."

"We're about to get one killer heart-flutter shot out of this. I'm posting it on the official fan site."

"Somebody already put it up on social media. Insanely fast."

Meok-Songha marveled, staring at her phone. A photo that had clearly just been taken—the two of them sharp and clear—had gone up on someone's social media. Then, hauled along by the majority who hadn't won the event and had nothing to look at but proof shots, it began to spread in every direction.

"But the manager's a regular person," the man beside her said, scratching the back of his neck. "Is it okay to just upload him with no blur?"

I had expected it, in a way.

Ever since Team Leader Park asked, "Jagi, you okay if your face gets out there a little?" I had figured a day might come when my face was circulating on social media or some website.

I just hadn't thought that day would hit this suddenly.

"Mom. It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

The voice through the phone was unusually bright. Was this the sort of thing parents got happy about? Well, it was a hundred times better than landing in the incident reports for causing trouble, but my face still felt a little hot.

It wasn't only my parents. Relatives and my friends had already bombarded me. The group chat with the guys wouldn't stop vibrating, so I had turned the notifications off entirely.

From morning on, really, I couldn't think straight.

I sighed and picked Songha's share of snacks off the shelf.

For a while now I'd had the feeling the convenience store clerk kept glancing at my face. No. I was imagining it. It was one photo. And hardly anyone was going to recognize a manager who wasn't even Lee Songha.

As I paid, Mom's voice came through, threaded with laughter.

"What? Why would he do that?"

I was going to lose my mind.

I dragged a hand down my face.

"Small mercies, then."

"I'm not a celebrity, Mom. I'm a manager."

Even as I said it, one thing snagged.

The Lunar New Year variety special Team Leader Park and Kim Hyunjo had mentioned. Well, if there was still no word, it had probably fallen through.

"Got it. I got it."

"The IBC special variety is locked, jagi."

I had been watching the fat snowflakes blow past the window, and my head snapped around.

Across from me, Team Leader Park—who had hauled me out of the company on the pretext of a quiet cup of coffee—was smiling with her eyes.

"It's locked?"

"Mm. Looks like the production team saw your photo go up and did a little digging. They must have liked the posts fans who'd met you wrote up like firsthand accounts. I looked too, and your reputation among the fans is pretty entertaining."

"Ah..."

"Interviews, a broadcast—do well and you might turn into a star manager. Better watch you don't catch celebrity disease."

"Ha. Not funny."

Still, it was something to celebrate. Not only Lee Songha—Neptune as a whole was stepping onto a network variety show.

Lim Seoyoung, especially, would scatter tears of joy when she heard. She had been honing her bits for the day she made it onto a variety program, and she had even plowed through a trivia-quiz book that seemed good for absolutely nothing.

Just thinking of going to tell her eased the heart that had been pitching on rough water.

Team Leader Park patted my shoulder and laughed.

"Your face got sold earlier than we expected, but I think it worked out. Imagine if Songha had stuck to Ji-joon's back up there. By now a scandal might have blown up and they'd be getting torn apart. At least she stuck to your back—a regular person's—so the talk going around is all warm stuff. Turtle shell, and whatnot."

"What a comfort."

I clicked my tongue and looked out the window again. In a short while the snow had thickened. It wasn't even in the forecast, this sudden fall, and the heads and shoulders of people walking without umbrellas were dusted white.

Because of that snow, filming for Cat Guardian Spirit was at a complete stop. They said they would reschedule once it let up, but it didn't look as if it would stop today.

"Did you bring me out of the company just to tell me this?"

I asked it over the bitter coffee, and Team Leader Park frowned.

Then she leaned toward me.

"More than that..."

The franchise coffee shop at lunch was as packed as a war zone, so no one ought to have been listening to us, and yet Team Leader Park's voice had gone small enough to crawl along the floor.

"I figured it was about time Son Chae-young came storming in."

My eyes flew open. Should I go take a look? Not long ago that would have been a mad thought, but things were different now. Cat Guardian Spirit, which had aired yesterday, had finally surpassed The Little Mermaid in the ratings. Her face was probably warped into something demonic by now.

"She's coming over the promo articles again?"

"No. Because of the ad Songha landed."

"What?"

"That's why I dragged you out to hide, too. Don't go into the company today if you can help it. Son Chae-young's eyes might have rolled back, and she might be flipping the whole place over."

"What does Songha's commercial have to do with Son Chae-young?"

Surely she isn't coming to raise hell just because she doesn't like Songha shooting an ad. Surely not—and yet, if it was Son Chae-young, I could believe she might. Whatever you imagined, she showed you worse.

But what Team Leader Park said was a little different from what I had expected.

"The ad that went to Songha—that used to be one Son Chae-young shot."

Son Chae-young stood alone in the CEO's empty office.

Contrary to Team Leader Park's prediction, her eyes hadn't rolled back, and she wasn't in the middle of overturning everything. But those eyes, frozen cold as if iced over, looked like the hush before a storm—ready to explode at any moment, and no one would be surprised.

Her gaze bored into her phone.

A single photo sat on the screen.

The man looking back over his shoulder had a cold face by anyone's measure, but worry all but dripped from both eyes. And the woman, Lee Songha, had her arms locked around that back, clinging flush against it. In the eyes that met his, there was trust.

The office door clicked open.

CEO Baek Han-sung came in, shedding his coat.

"I heard something unbelievable, so I came to ask you myself."

"Mm. Go on."

Sitting down, CEO Baek Han-sung nodded.

"Is it true the China commercial is going to Lee Songha?"

"That's right."

"Sir!"

"I sent it over. They said they wanted to change the model."

At the unruffled answer, Son Chae-young bit her lip.

"So you gave mine away—not to anyone else, to Lee Songha?"

"Better than handing it to another company."

Son Chae-young clenched the phone in her hand. Sparks jumped in her eyes.

"Why her, of all people? Are you doing this just to watch me lose my mind?! I'd rather it was someone else—I don't want it taken by her! Is this because I still haven't signed the renewal? I'll sign. So don't give her my commercial!"

Son Chae-young, who had been shouting like a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠child throwing a tantrum the way she always did, faltered.

CEO Baek Han-sung was looking at her without a word.

The same face as always, smiling at his leisure. But the eyes were different.

Son Chae-young had been with W&U for years now. It wasn't the first time she had seen that look in CEO Baek Han-sung's eyes. But the gaze that reached her had always been soft. Not once had that look ever been turned on Son Chae-young herself.

Until now.

Son Chae-young, avoiding his eyes, bit her lip again. The lip she had been chewing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for a long while was red, as if blood had seeped into it.

After a brief silence, Son Chae-young lifted her head.

"...Fine. A commercial. What does it matter. Let her have the one."

Her mouth twisted.