I hate my life.
Relatable, right?
But trust me—it won't be when I tell you why.
See, my life isn't just tough. It's a parade of shitty people.
First, my father.
Then, my ex-boyfriend.
And the worst of them all? Him.
Zane Kim.
Actually, let me rephrase that:
My life is full of shitty men.
And now, I'm walking down the aisle… toward one of them.
So how did I end up here, in a dress I didn't pick, about to marry the man who helped destroy my career?
Well. Sit tight.
Let me tell you exactly how it all started.
One week ago, I was just a struggling junior actress—bouncing between tiny roles, trying to chase a dream I could barely afford, while helping my younger sister stay in school. Nothing glamorous. Nothing newsworthy. Just a girl trying to make it.
But everything went up in flames over one thing: A single post. From my anonymous drama critique account, no less. The one where I ranted into the void after long filming days, thinking no one was really listening.
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"Two-faced people confuse me—should I roll my eyes at one face or slap the other? Watching a certain beloved CEO throw a tantrum on set today because his coffee wasn't the 'exact temperature' was… enlightening. Funny how the public sees him as this charming, composed professional. Behind the scenes? Just another egotistical man with too much power and zero patience. Image really is everything, huh?"
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It wasn't meant to start a war.
I didn't name anyone. I didn't even expect more than a handful of views.
But of course, fate had other plans.
Because that post? It was about Zane Kim.
Yes—that Zane Kim. Korea'sgolden boy. The powerful, untouchable CEO of Sol Entertainment. The man plastered across every billboard and magazine cover. The one fans were obsessed with.
And I?
I'd witnessed something I wasn't supposed to.
He was on set that day. To oversee one of his company's shoots. I was a background extra, dressed like a waitress and blending into the scenery like always.
Until he started yelling at a staff member for something absurd.
His tone? Cruel. Entitled. Completely unlike the charming, soft-spoken prince the world adored.
So I wrote what I saw.
Not to go viral.
Not for attention.
Just because I was tired of the lies.
But then someone connected the dots.
A blurry photo of me on set surfaced. My handle was traced. And within 24 hours, I wasn't anonymous anymore.
Just like that, I wasn't a struggling junior actress—I was public enemy number one.
No-name extras aren't supposed to have opinions, apparently. We're supposed to smile quietly, bow politely, and pray someone tosses us a line someday. Maybe even a name in the credits if we're lucky.
But now?
I was the girl who dared to criticize Korea's golden boy.
And Zane?
The man everyone worships?
He made sure I regretted every single word.
My agency dropped me in less than a day.
"We don't want to be associated with someone unprofessional," they'd said—like I hadn't spent the past year freezing on overnight shoots, eating instant noodles on plastic stools, and humbling myself into faceless background roles just to survive.
The small part I'd finally booked—a two-line role as a barista in an upcoming web drama?
Gone. "Creative changes," they said.
Right.
Casting directors stopped replying. Crew members who once smiled at me now acted like I didn't exist. My inbox? A graveyard of dead scripts and vanishing offers.
So, I had only one option left.
Drink.
Drink until my heart stopped screaming.
Drink until I forgot how unfair this all was.
"Make it strong!" I yelled, voice already slurring as the room began to spin after just three glasses.
"M-Ma'am, you look... drunk. Did you come here with someone?"
"I don't need anyone," I muttered, pushing off the bar and wobbling to my feet.
I turned to leave.
But I only made it a few steps before I crashed—straight into someone.