Myeong pov
The casual, teasing chaos with Haedo had ended, replaced by the sterile tension of the set. I picked up the script, my eyes scanning the lines: a drama mirroring my life, featuring characters who were frighteningly familiar.
The director yelled action, and the shoot began.
I moved into position with the actor playing Dojun. As our faces drew close, following the stage direction that culminated in the inevitable kiss, my mind retreated. It was a blur of rehearsed passion, and as the fictional reality consumed me, I realized the difficulty in discerning how much of it was acting... and how much of it was the truth.
The lines from the script, detailing the character's anguish, echoed in my head, yet somehow, they felt like my own biography: Hyerin knows in her heart that Dojun didn't return because he wanted to. But Hyerin closes her eyes and reminisces about their happy times together, trying to believe him.
In a trance where everything—the lights, the cameras, the kiss itself—lost focus, I lost myself. ...I became Hyerin... and in doing so, I looked back on my past. The boundaries between the character's heartbreak and my own dissolved, leaving me only with the bitter truth of old memories.
Haedo was slumped into me, his head nestled against my shoulder. "SEE? IT'S ALREADY BEEN TWO DAYS..." he murmured, the vibration of his voice tickling my skin. I couldn't help but smile, a soft, indulgent, "...HEHE," escaping my lips as I held him close.
Then, a sudden shiver ran through me. It wasn't unpleasant, but a jolt of alarm. His hands had moved, subtly tracing a line down my arm. "MYEONG," he whispered, my name a low rumble. I felt a nervous FLINCH as his fingers began to SLIDE up my side.
I looked down at him, my heart pounding in my chest. He gazed back, his golden-brown eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that stole my breath. "I WANNA DO IT," he announced, his voice low and confident.
My eyes widened. My cheeks immediately flushed hot as the meaning of his words crashed over me. "...DO WHAT?" I stammered, my voice barely a squeak.
A smirk played on his lips. "SHOULD WE DO IT HERE?" he challenged, leaning in closer until I could feel his breath.
"WHAT?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" I exclaimed, but before I could finish the protest, his mouth was on mine. KISS. It was a quick, aggressive surprise that left me speechless. "..."
He pulled back just enough to look into my shocked, red face. His own expression was irritatingly casual. "IT'S JUST A KISS. WHY ARE YOU FREAKING OUT?"
I stared at him, my mind reeling. My whole body was burning, and the blood rushed to my face.
He let out a short, triumphant SMIRK. "...HUH? What dirty thoughts were you having, I?" he teased, using my own reaction against me.
"YOU..." I sputtered, my breath hitching as a full-body BLUSH took over. "YOU BAITED ME INTO THAT..."
I tried to push him away, but he was already moving, his arms tightening as he shifted our position. One moment I was sitting up, the next I was pressed down onto the couch cushions, Haedo hovering above me, his legs pinning mine.
My long dark hair flew back around my face as the room seemed to spin. "WHOOSH" went the air as the reality of the situation hit me: He wasn't stopping.
His eyes, now dark and serious, held mine. "SHOULD WE KEEP GOING?"
The danger of the situation was now overriding the shock. "PEOPLE ARE GOING TO BE HERE SOON..." I pleaded, trying to appeal to his reason, but all I could feel was the terrifying excitement of his body over mine.
"UM..." I trailed off, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the couch as Haedo chuckled beside me. Our sudden, charged moment had been interrupted by the voice of another member of the film crew.
The guy with the glasses and a ponytail stepped into the room, beaming brightly. "YES! ...LET'S KEEP THE CLUB ROOM A SACRED SPACE!" he declared, oblivious to the atmosphere he'd shattered.
Haedo and I pulled apart, the only sound the nervous CHIRP CHIRP of crickets (or maybe just my pulse) in the sudden quiet.
"SORRY..." I mumbled, still trying to catch my breath.
The guy just laughed, holding up a shopping bag. "NO NEED TO BE SORRY. LET'S JUST EAT SOME ICE CREAM."
I felt a rush of relief as the tension broke. "CUT!" a voice boomed—the director's. Our little improvisation session was over.
Back on Set
I was back in the familiar but stifling grip of the actress playing Hyerin. We were rehearsing the intimate scene again.
"DID YOU THINK ABOUT THE OLD DAYS?" a voice, presumably Dojun's actor, murmured close to my ear.
I kept my eyes closed, trying to focus on my character, but a flicker of a thought made my eye OPEN just slightly. The old days... my real old days.
The director called out, "ALRIGHT, LET'S MOVE ON TO THE NEXT SCENE."
The actress playing Hyerin hugged me tightly, patting my head. "ACTING IS FUN. YOU CAN GO DOWN MEMORY LANE," she said with a slightly chilling intensity. The smile on her face was tight, her eyes gleaming with a strange, possessive intensity. Her voice dropped. "LET'S STAY LIKE THIS A LITTLE LONGER."
My stomach twisted. She was holding me too tightly, her comfort now feeling like a trap. "...YOU CAN LET GO NOW," I said, trying to push her away subtly.
She pulled back just far enough to level a cold, triumphant gaze at me. Her expression was a subtle SMIRK, and her eyes—I realized with a jolt—were the same unsettling, gold-orange as the fictional Hyerin's had been. "I DID," she whispered, her voice low and confident.
I felt a wave of confusion and panic. "I HAD BECOME HYERIN BEFORE I REALIZED IT," the thought flashed through my mind. I didn't know if the actress was just deeply in character or if something else was happening. The lines were blurring.
In a surge of genuine distress, I shoved her away. PUSH. "LET GO!" I shouted, the command coming from a place deeper than the script. I needed space, I needed to get away from her grip and her unsettling eyes.
I shoved her away. PUSH. "LET GO!" The command was sharp and real, cutting through the staged intimacy. "I HAD BECOME HYERIN BEFORE I REALIZED IT," the narrative box stated, echoing the disturbing truth in my mind.
The actress recoiled, her initial unsettling smirk dissolving into a look of feigned shock and distress. She covered her mouth, her body beginning to SHAKE. "YOU'RE SO SCARY..." she whimpered.
But I saw the flicker in her eyes—the predatory gold that reminded me so much of the character she played, Hyerin, and possibly the Hyerin from my own past. I immediately regretted the outburst. What if this was just her method acting?
...Memory lane, my ass. I thought bitterly, feeling the frustration bubble inside me. The actress had said that acting was fun because "YOU CAN GO DOWN MEMORY LANE," but for me, being Hyerin felt like being haunted.
When we settled down, she turned back to me, her demeanor shifting to a bright, professional smile. "BUT WE'RE BACK HERE NOW, SHOOTING A DRAMA TOGETHER," she said, trying to smooth over the tension with a lighthearted tone. She made it sound like we were old friends reunited, not strangers forced to reenact scenes of betrayal and longing.
I looked at her, my own expression strained. I couldn't forget the feeling of her grip or the unnerving look she'd given me.
Ghosts of the Past
We had to run the kissing scene again. As the actor playing Dojun moved close, repeating the line, "DID YOU THINK ABOUT THE OLD DAYS?" I felt the boundary between Myeong, the actor, and Hyerin, the character, completely shatter.
My eye had opened slightly during the last take. This time, as he closed in, the memory of Haedo—his arms, his smile, the way he had genuinely wanted to be close just moments ago—flooded my senses. It was a beautiful, painful distraction.
"I ALMOST CONFESSED THAT I HAD THOUGHT BACK ON OLD MEMORIES IN HIS ARMS," I realized, the secret hanging heavy between the staged embrace and my real-life desires. I knew I couldn't actually confess this to the actor. That was my memory, my Haedo.
I stared blankly, overwhelmed by the convergence of the past, the present, and the fiction we were creating. "AS IF THINGS DIDN'T END BADLY ENOUGH AS THEY DID," I thought, referring to the disastrous relationships of both Hyerin and Myeong.
Fate's Reset
A moment of strange stillness hung over the set, the energy from the earlier confrontation between the actress and me and the tension of the scene creating a heavy, awkward silence.
Then, a new voice broke the quiet, startlingly loud and casual. The director or another crew member must have walked in, disrupting the mood we had so carefully constructed.
"BUT HEY, WHAT'S WITH THE VIBE IN HERE?" the voice said.
Just like that, the theatrical storm passed. The profound, emotional weight of the scene vanished in the face of a simple question.
"BUT THE CLOCKS OF FATE STARTED MOVING AGAIN..." a narrator—perhaps the scriptwriter's own reflection—concluded. My life, which felt frozen in a moment of dramatic confusion, suddenly lurched forward. The scene was over, and the world was moving on.
The Revelation
The set had broken up, but the unease lingered. I found myself staring at my phone, a chill replacing the stage lights' heat.
"WHAT IS THIS...?" I whispered, my heart plummeting as I stared at the screen. The image in the article—a scandalizing, candid shot of Haedo and me, young and carefree, embracing—hit me like a physical blow.
The text was worse: A "NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN PHOTO." The accompanying headline was a dagger: "Never-before-seen photo from Eunmil's posthumous exhibition MUSE ON revealed! Who is 멍's man?" The agency was apparently trying to look into it right now.
But I knew the truth the agency didn't. The photo in the article... it was a genuine, personal memory.
"...WAS OF HAEDO AND I WHEN WE WERE 20," I realized, the memory flashing through my mind: Haedo, laughing, with those same intense, golden eyes, touching my face. "WE HAVEN'T BEEN ALONE IN SO LONG. CAN'T I BE NEXT TO YOU?," he'd pleaded. Our youthful intimacy was now a public spectacle, part of a deceased artist's work.
I looked up at the person next to me, my breath catching in my throat. "IT WAS THE SAME WITH THE EXHIBITION... WHO'S REVEALING THESE PHOTOS?" I demanded.
The gravity of the situation was immense. Eunmil was an artist. Haedo and I were her subjects? No, victims.
Who has his photos right now? The question burned in my mind. DOES THAT MEAN THERE ARE MORE? If Eunmil, or whoever was managing her estate, had this photo, what else did they possess?
Eunmil's Shadow
My memory flashed back to the trauma that had shattered my life years ago. A small, black and white image flickered: the body of a person on the ground, a chilling finality.
The narration was grim: "EUNMIL'S BODY WAS DISCOVERED BY HIS HOUSE CLEANER."
Another horrifying detail surfaced in my consciousness, a chilling piece of history I had pushed away: "IT WAS THE FIRST AND LAST TIME SHE'D EVER SEEN HIM."
The photo of Haedo and me was tied to the dead artist, Eunmil. It made me question everything I thought I knew about the past. Eunmil's name wasn't just in the headline; it was wrapped up in a dark memory.
"COULD THAT PERSON REALLY HAVE BEEN EUNMIL?" I questioned, a bead of sweat breaking out on my temple. I was thinking about the figure I had seen that day, long ago.
Then the core mystery emerged: "WAS EUNMIL ACTUALLY DEAD?" The question hung in the air, heavy and full of dread.
Or...
I looked out at the anonymous, stark architecture of the world around us—tall buildings against the night sky. In the shadows, a figure stood, distinct and unsettling: a man with striking silver hair and a dark turtleneck, his face pale and observant. He was a perfect stranger, yet the focus of the final panel.
Or... who was this person who had taken the place of the dead? The fate I thought I had escaped was circling back, dragging my past with Haedo, my identity, and the secret of Eunmil's death, out into the glaring light. My life was no longer just a drama; it was a deadly mystery.
Haedo slumped against my shoulder, his voice a low rumble. "SEE? IT'S ALREADY BEEN TWO DAYS..." I couldn't help but smile, a soft "...HEHE" escaping me. "IT'S ONLY BEEN TWO DAYS," I countered, even as he pleaded, "WE HAVEN'T BEEN ALONE IN SO LONG. CAN'T I BE NEXT TO YOU?" He gave me that charming, disarming SMILE.
The mood shifted quickly. "I'M OVERHEATING!! GET AWAY FROM ME, HAEDO!" I cried, punctuated by a cough. He ignored me, still clinging to me: "OH COME ON, SERIOUSLY!"
Then, his hand moved, sliding up my side. "MYEONG," he whispered, and I felt a nervous FLINCH. "I WANNA DO IT," he declared, his eyes burning with intent.
"...DO WHAT?" I stammered, already panicking. "SHOULD WE DO IT HERE?" he challenged, leaning in. "WHAT?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" I shouted, but the word was cut off by a sudden, aggressive KISS. When he pulled back, he gave me a familiar SMIRK. "IT'S JUST A KISS. WHY ARE YOU FREAKING OUT?" he teased. "...HUH? What dirty thoughts were you having, I?"
My face burned with a full-body BLUSH. "YOU... YOU BAITED ME INTO THAT..." I sputtered. Before I could recover, he had me pinned down. My hair flew back with a WHOOSH. "SHOULD WE KEEP GOING?" he asked, though his eyes looked determined, not questioning. "PEOPLE ARE GOING TO BE HERE SOON..." I pleaded, desperately trying to appeal to his reason.
A voice from the doorway interrupted us, cheerily unaware: "UM... YES! ...LET'S KEEP THE CLUB ROOM A SACRED SPACE!" Followed by an even more casual: "SORRY... NO NEED TO BE SORRY. LET'S JUST EAT SOME ICE CREAM."
"CUT!" the director yelled. Just like that, the high tension vanished.
Part II: The Drama and The Doppelgänger
The shoot began. I was back in the scene, playing opposite the actress who played Hyerin and the actor playing Dojun. The script was a painful echo of my past: "Hyerin knows in her heart that Dojun didn't return because he wanted to. But Hyerin closes her eyes and reminisces about their happy times together, trying to believe him."
The kiss with Dojun's actor felt unreal, a moment where it was difficult to know how much of it was acting... and how much of it was the truth. IN A TRANCE WHERE EVERYTHING... I BECAME HYERIN... and looked back on MY past.
The director called out, "ALRIGHT, LET'S MOVE ON TO THE NEXT SCENE."
The actress, Hyerin, hugged me tight. "ACTING IS FUN. YOU CAN GO DOWN MEMORY LANE," she said, patting my head. Her grip tightened. "LET'S STAY LIKE THIS A LITTLE LONGER."
A chill ran through me. "...YOU CAN LET GO NOW," I told her, trying to pull away.
She smiled—a chilling, triumphant SMIRK with unnerving amber eyes. "I DID," she whispered. I HAD BECOME HYERIN BEFORE I REALIZED IT. The words were a warning. I reacted instinctively, shoving her. PUSH. "LET GO!" I shouted.
She looked genuinely hurt, covering her mouth and beginning to SHAKE. "YOU'RE SO SCARY...," she whimpered, but my own internal narration was clear: ...MEMORY LANE, MY ASS. I knew the truth was far darker than a simple drama.
She quickly recovered, flashing a professional smile. "BUT WE'RE BACK HERE NOW, SHOOTING A DRAMA TOGETHER."
Back to the kissing scene. "DID YOU THINK ABOUT THE OLD DAYS?" Dojun's actor murmured. My eye gave a momentary OPEN flicker. The image of Haedo, not Dojun, flooded my mind. I ALMOST CONFESSED THAT I HAD THOUGHT BACK ON OLD MEMORIES IN HIS ARMS. But I couldn't. AS IF THINGS DIDN'T END BADLY ENOUGH AS THEY DID.
The atmosphere broke when another voice interrupted: "BUT HEY, WHAT'S WITH THE VIBE IN HERE?" BUT THE CLOCKS OF FATE STARTED MOVING AGAIN...
Part III: The Photo and The Watcher
Later, a new, cold terror struck. I saw an article on my phone: a private photo of Haedo and I when we were 20 was being revealed as part of Eunmil's posthumous exhibition.
"WAS EUNMIL ACTUALLY DEAD?" I wondered, remembering the horror of the body discovered by the house cleaner: IT WAS THE FIRST AND LAST TIME SHE'D EVER SEEN HIM. COULD THAT PERSON REALLY HAVE BEEN EUNMIL?
My mind raced. FOR A PHOTO OF HAEDO AND I TO BE REVEALED AT THIS TIMING... ...FEELS LIKE I'M STILL BEING WATCHED.
The car SCREECHED to a stop. A man with white hair, someone unfamiliar, stood nearby.
"DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE ARTICLE TOO MUCH," he said calmly. "IT APPEARS THAT DIRECTOR BAEK BELIEVES THE INTEREST IN THIS PHOTO WILL CARRY OVER TO THE DRAMA."
"I'M ALRIGHT, BUT... I FEEL LIKE HAEDO WILL BE AFFECTED NEGATIVELY BECAUSE OF ME," I admitted, deeply concerned.
The man dismissed my worries with an unnerving confidence. "HAEDO WILL BE ALRIGHT. BECAUSE HE'S QUITE FOND OF YOU."
"WHAT? HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?" I challenged, staring at him, utterly unnerved by his claim.
He lowered his voice, his eyes fixed on mine, and gave me the answer that solidified my dread: "BECAUSE... I'M ALWAYS WATCHING OVER YOU."
Haedo SLUMPED against me. "SEE? IT'S ALREADY BEEN TWO DAYS..." I let out a little "...HEHE" sound, but he was serious. "WE HAVEN'T BEEN ALONE IN SO LONG. CAN'T I BE NEXT TO YOU?" he pleaded, giving me a soft SMILE.
I started to feel hot, the closeness too much. "I'M OVERHEATING!! GET AWAY FROM ME, HAEDO!" I shouted, punctuated by a cough. "OH COME ON, SERIOUSLY!" he groaned, not moving.
His hand SLID up my side, and I felt a nervous FLINCH. "MYEONG," he whispered. "I WANNA DO IT," he declared.
"...DO WHAT?" I stammered, my heart racing. He challenged me, leaning in. "SHOULD WE DO IT HERE?" "WHAT?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" I yelled. Before I could protest further, he silenced me with a KISS.
He pulled back, giving me a mischievous SMIRK. "IT'S JUST A KISS. WHY ARE YOU FREAKING OUT?" he teased. "...HUH? WHAT DIRTY THOUGHTS WERE YOU HAVING, MYEONG?" My face was on fire with a BLUSH. "YOU... YOU BAITED ME INTO THAT..."
He ignored my complaint, grabbing my hair as my head went back with a WHOOSH. "SHOULD WE KEEP GOING?" he asked, his eyes intense. "PEOPLE ARE GOING TO BE HERE SOON..." I tried to reason.
The moment shattered as a voice from the doorway cheerfully broke the tension. "UM... YES! ...LET'S KEEP THE CLUB ROOM A SACRED SPACE!" Followed by a frantic, embarrassed apology: "SORRY... NO NEED TO BE SORRY. LET'S JUST EAT SOME ICE CREAM."
A loud "CUT!" from the director ended the scene.
Chapter 2: The Actress and The Truth
THE SHOOT BEGAN... The script was hauntingly familiar. Hyerin knows in her heart that Dojun didn't return because he wanted to. But Hyerin closes her eyes and reminisces about their happy times together, trying to believe him.
I closed my eyes for the scene, the kiss happening, and IN A TRANCE WHERE EVERYTHING... I couldn't help but feel ...IT WAS DIFFICULT TO KNOW HOW MUCH OF IT WAS ACTING... AND HOW MUCH OF IT WAS THE TRUTH. As the actress playing Hyerin, ...I BECAME HYERIN... AND LOOKED BACK ON MYEONG'S PAST.
The director called, "ALRIGHT, LET'S MOVE ON TO THE NEXT SCENE."
The actor playing Dojun moved close again, murmuring, "DID YOU THINK ABOUT THE OLD DAYS?" My eye gave a momentary OPEN flicker. It was Haedo's arms I was thinking of. I ALMOST CONFESSED THAT I HAD THOUGHT BACK ON OLD MEMORIES IN HIS ARMS. AS IF THINGS DIDN'T END BADLY ENOUGH AS THEY DID.
The actress hugged me, patting my head. "ACTING IS FUN. YOU CAN GO DOWN MEMORY LANE." She held me tight. "LET'S STAY LIKE THIS A LITTLE LONGER." I felt the boundary dissolving. I HAD BECOME HYERIN BEFORE I REALIZED IT.
"...YOU CAN LET GO NOW," I whispered.
"I DID," she replied, giving me a malicious SMIRK with those unnervingly golden eyes. I shoved her away. PUSH. "LET GO!" I cried. She recoiled, beginning to SHAKE, her eyes wide. "YOU'RE SO SCARY...," she whimpered, but I knew better. ...MEMORY LANE, MY ASS.
She quickly shifted back, all professionalism. "BUT WE'RE BACK HERE NOW, SHOOTING A DRAMA TOGETHER."
Then a voice interrupted the strained silence, oblivious to the drama. "BUT HEY, WHAT'S WITH THE VIBE IN HERE?" BUT THE CLOCKS OF FATE STARTED MOVING AGAIN...
Chapter 3: The Watcher
The shock of the scene was replaced by a deeper dread when I saw my phone. "WHAT IS THIS...?" I whispered, staring at the article: A "NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN PHOTO" of Haedo and me, young and intimate, being revealed at Eunmil's posthumous exhibition MUSE ON. THE PHOTO IN THE ARTICLE WAS OF HAEDO AND ME WHEN WE WERE 20. "THE AGENCY IS TRYING TO LOOK INTO IT RIGHT NOW."
"IT WAS THE SAME WITH THE EXHIBITION... WHO'S REVEALING THESE PHOTOS?" I asked, feeling exposed. WHO HAS HIS PHOTOS RIGHT NOW? DOES THAT MEAN THERE ARE MORE?
I remembered the past, the tragic news: EUNMIL'S BODY WAS DISCOVERED BY HIS HOUSE CLEANER. And the chilling detail: IT WAS THE FIRST AND LAST TIME SHE'D EVER SEEN HIM.
COULD THAT PERSON REALLY HAVE BEEN EUNMIL? I wondered, the terrifying question surfacing. WAS EUNMIL ACTUALLY DEAD? I paused, trying to grasp the implications. OR...
The feeling was overwhelming. FOR A PHOTO OF HAEDO AND ME TO BE REVEALED AT THIS TIMING... ...FEELS LIKE I'M STILL BEING WATCHED. FOR A MOMENT, I HAD A HUNCH THAT EUNMIL WAS SOMEWHERE AROUND ME.
A car SCREECHED to a halt. A man with silver hair stood there. "DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE ARTICLE TOO MUCH. IT APPEARS THAT DIRECTOR BAEK BELIEVES THE INTEREST IN THIS PHOTO WILL CARRY OVER TO THE DRAMA."
"I'M ALRIGHT, BUT... I FEEL LIKE HAEDO WILL BE AFFECTED NEGATIVELY BECAUSE OF ME," I replied, distraught.
"HAEDO WILL BE ALRIGHT. BECAUSE HE'S QUITE FOND OF YOU," he stated, far too certainly.
"WHAT? HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?" I demanded, meeting his gaze.
He dropped his voice. "BECAUSE... I'M ALWAYS WATCHING OVER YOU."
My mind raced through the conflicting details of the death: AN EARLY DEATH... ...THE NEWS REPORTED THAT EUNMIL DIED FROM A HEART ATTACK. Yet, he had told me something different before. I looked at the man who claimed to watch over me. "BUT WHEN WE FIRST MET, YOU SAID THAT EUNMIL DIED BY SUICIDE. WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?"
I looked at him, desperately trying to read his expression. "DO YOU... ...KNOW EUNMIL?"
TO BE CONTINUED