A top celebrity was sitting on the makeup room chair, his fingers busy scrolling through his phone. His face was cold and distant, giving off a vibe that screamed "don't talk to me."
"Ji-hoon, I already told them not to ask anything about your parents. I told them you still feel too sad to talk about it," said a man with glasses, standing beside Ji-hoon while holding a tablet.
"Hmm," Ji-hoon replied shortly.
"Okay, let's get ready! We're rolling in 10 minutes. Ji-hoon, please follow me," said a staff member from the TV station.
Ji-hoon followed lazily behind. But the moment they reached the side of the stage, his expression instantly flipped. That cold, uninterested face turned into something bright and full of life. Of course, he's an actor—it's second nature for him to swap faces and fool millions with it.
"Let's welcome our special guest tonight… Kang Ji-hoon!"
The studio lights beamed brightly on the star who wore his mask perfectly.
The interview went smoothly—until the host asked something he absolutely shouldn't have.
"I heard your mother passed away just a few days ago. I'm so sorry for your loss. Could you tell us what she meant to you?"
The room froze. Ji-hoon's assistant and team members went stiff.
Ji-hoon paused. Then, he smiled. His lips curved upward, but his eyes? Deadly. So sharp they sent chills down the host's spine. He remembered the warning—Don't ask about the mom.
"Well… honestly, I still feel a bit sad talking about my mom. Can we talk about something else first? I don't want this show to turn into a soap opera," he joked. The whole studio laughed. Fake laughter.
"I'm so sorry, that was inappropriate of me. Alright, so about your upcoming movie project—" The host quickly moved on.
But what he didn't know was: from that night on, Ji-hoon hated him. Also, that host? Yeah, he's losing his job tomorrow.
"I'm so sorry, Ji-hoon. I told them not to—"
"Cancel all the shoots today. Tell them I'm sick or caught a fever after that question about my mom. They'll believe it and think I'm a good son," Ji-hoon snapped as he walked to the waiting room.
"Where are you going?"
"Home. A club. Swimming. Fishing. I don't know, not your business," he said coldly. The assistant could only stand there, stunned.
Ji-hoon grabbed his car keys. It was one of his bad habits—when he was mad, he'd drive like a maniac.
Fifteen minutes on the road, and he was already speeding like crazy.
"Bastards! Why the hell would they even bring that up?!" he yelled, slamming the steering wheel.
His mind drifted back to when he was a kid—maybe six years old.
"Ji-hoon, sweetheart, what do you want to be when you grow up?" his mom asked gently.
"I wanna be a vet, Omma!"
"Are you sure? What about becoming an actor instead? Like your mom?" Her voice was sweet, her smile warm, but her eyes… filled with something else. Something darker.
Snap—back to reality.
The red light was flashing up ahead. Ji-hoon stepped on the brake, but the car didn't slow down. Panicked, he jerked the wheel to the side, crashing through the barrier straight into the river.
At Seoul General Hospital, a 22-year-old woman lay unconscious, covered in bruises and cuts, hooked up to countless machines.
In the same hospital, a 27-year-old celebrity was being rushed into the ER on a stretcher. His skin was pale, his body soaked. The doctors kept trying CPR.
That night, at exactly 11:49 PM, two lives were lost.
Birds chirped loudly outside the window, tapping their beaks against the glass.
Sunlight was spilling through the slightly opened curtains.
The clock on the wall showed 11:49 AM.
Grumbling, the guy got up and opened the window, letting a few small birds fly into the room.
Wait—a room?
He looked down at his own hands, then rushed to the full-length mirror in the corner. The mirror had a shiny gold frame.
That guy in the mirror—it was him. Wearing navy blue pajamas. Hair all messed up like he just woke up.
Am I… alive?
Before he could fully process what was going on, he noticed someone else lying in the bed right next to where he just was.
Something definitely felt off.
He kept trying to piece together how he ended up in this big, white, cozy-looking room.
Was this girl's room? Did he get drunk and end up in a one-night stand with someone from the club?
But wait, if that's the case, why was he wearing pajamas? Since when did he change into PJs before a one-night stand?
"Hey! Wake up!" he yelled, throwing a pillow at the girl, making her fall off the bed.
"Argh!" she cried out in pain.
There was silence for a few seconds. Then, she slowly stood up and looked around the room… then at her own body.
Still healthy. Still breathing. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Hey, are you okay?" asked the guy at the end of the bed, standing there in the exact same pajamas she had on.
Her hand flew to her mouth. "Ji—Ji-hoon…?"
Her eyes were welling up with tears. Please let this not be a dream. Or if it is, let me dream forever!
"You… know me?"
"Of course! I'm your biggest fan! I loved you in that movie by Director—"
Tch!
She froze. What did she just hear?
"You're a sasaeng, aren't you?! You lured me into your room, didn't you? Where's the hidden camera?!" Ji-hoon shouted.
"What are you talk—"
"Save it! I'm calling the cops and suing you till you rot in jail!" Ji-hoon grabbed his phone from the nightstand.
But… the contacts he was looking for weren't there. His assistant's number—gone. He tried calling someone else. But none of the contacts looked familiar. Not a single one.
He stormed out of the room, but then—DING DONG. The apartment bell rang. He froze.
"You… You called your crazy friends here too, didn't you?!" he snapped at her.
"I don't even have any friends," she muttered.
DING DONG.
The bell rang again.
Ji-hoon signaled for her to answer it.
They both went downstairs to the first floor of 'their' apartment.
The girl peeked through the peephole and saw an old lady holding a container of lasagna.
She opened the door. The old lady beamed at them both.
"Oh dear! You two look so happy. Was Thailand really that beautiful?" she asked, patting the girl on the shoulder.
"Do… I know you…?" the girl asked cautiously.
The old lady burst into laughter, even tearing up.
The girl and Ji-hoon exchanged glances.
"Oh my, you're hilarious, Seo Yura. Just because you've been gone for a week, now you've forgotten this old lady?" the grandma giggled, pointing to herself.
Seo Yura?
That name hit her like a truck. She hadn't even seen herself properly yet. Did she… wake up in someone else's body?
"Haha, I'm just messing with you. Anyway, we'll rest a little more," she said, trying to sound normal.
"Wait—here, I made extra lasagna. You guys must be hungry after traveling," the grandma said warmly.
The girl took the lasagna and smiled. "Thank you."
"Oh! And if you need anything, just ring my bell. I'm in unit 1234," she said before walking away.
She shut the door quickly and placed the lasagna on the dining table.
Seo Yura? Who the heck is Seo Yura?
She marched to the bathroom, unaware that a pair of eyes were watching her every move.
When she finally looked in the mirror—shock.
It was her face. But her hair felt smoother, neater. Her bangs perfectly parted.
I'm still Han Soo-min… right? So why did that grandma call me Seo Yura?
Knock knock.
A knock came from the bathroom door outside.
"Seo Yura, is it?" he asked.
"I think… we need to talk."