Seori lingered outside Kang Mirae's office, her heart racing. She hadn't meant to hear what Jiwoon had said earlier—it had been accidental—but now the words replayed in her mind with sharp clarity. The script she had worked so hard on, polished late at night, sacrificed over meals she couldn't afford, had been claimed by someone else. By Mirae.
The thought made her chest tighten, but she forced herself to knock lightly on the door.
"Mirae-ssi… may I speak with you?" she said as she stepped inside, careful to keep her tone neutral. Her hands, however, betrayed her nerves, fiddling slightly with the strap of her bag.
Mirae looked up from her desk, casually flipping through a few documents, her expression mild amusement—almost as if she had been expecting this visit. "Yes? What is it?" she said, her voice smooth and unbothered.
Seori took a deep breath. "I… I heard something. About the script. Is it true?" Her eyes searched Mirae's face for a flicker of guilt.
Mirae didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned back, crossing her arms and letting her smirk widen. "Yes. It's true," she said simply.
Seori's throat went dry. "You… just claimed it as your own?" she asked, the words trembling slightly.
Mirae's voice was calm, almost instructional. "Yes. And you should understand, Seori, I didn't do it to hurt you. The reality is… your name carries no weight in this industry. Producers wouldn't even glance at a story written by someone unknown. The script would have been lost forever if I hadn't taken it and polished it myself."
Seori felt as though the air had been knocked out of her. She knew Mirae was ruthless, but hearing the truth spoken so casually… it cut deep. Every late night, every ounce of effort she had poured into that story, suddenly seemed invisible. And yet, the part of her mind that recognized the reality—the harsh truth of her life right now—couldn't entirely deny it.
Mirae leaned forward, her gaze sharp, almost predatory. "Now think about it. Do you want your story to be produced, or do you want it to remain buried, unread, forgotten? This is the choice you're facing. You either compromise, or it dies with obscurity."
Seori swallowed hard. Part of her understood Mirae's reasoning—there was a bitter truth to it—but the wound was still fresh, burning in her chest. She had worked hard, and yet someone else claimed credit. The injustice made her hands clench into fists at her sides.
Tears, unbidden, pricked at the corners of her eyes. She quickly blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. I won't give up. I will never give up my stories. I will never let anyone take them from me.
Mirae noticed the fleeting tear but did not soften. In fact, her voice sharpened, dripping with condescension. "You know, Seori, that's exactly why you'll never succeed. Crying over fairness won't get you anywhere. This industry doesn't reward effort alone. It rewards results, cunning, and the ability to seize what you want. I did that. You… you just wait for recognition that will never come."
Seori's chest heaved with a mixture of anger and frustration. "You… you can't just take someone else's work and claim it as your own! I wrote that script! I poured my heart into it! And you—"
Mirae cut her off with a sharp laugh, the sound cold and dismissive. "Enough. You clearly don't understand how the world works. You lack the backbone to survive here. I gave your story a chance. I polished it. I made it into something people will notice. You? You'll keep writing in obscurity unless you toughen up."
Seori's hands shook with rage. Her heart ached with betrayal, but beneath the anger, determination blazed. Mirae could belittle her, steal her work, and dismiss her, but she would never—ever—allow someone else to own her creations.
Mirae's smirk widened further. "I'm done explaining. If you can't accept reality… you're fired. Clean out your desk."
The words hit Seori like ice. Fired. Just like that. Her stomach lurched, but her spirit refused to break. She straightened her back, shoulders rigid, her voice trembling slightly but carrying steel beneath it. "You may have the story now… but this isn't the end. One day, everyone will know whose words these truly are. And I'll make sure of it."
Mirae's eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. "Bold words. We'll see how far your courage takes you, Seori."
Seori turned to leave, her steps quiet but determined. The hallway seemed impossibly long, yet each step fueled her resolve. She wouldn't bow, she wouldn't surrender. Mirae could have the moment, but Seori's fire, her passion for writing, was untouchable.
And in that quiet, tense corridor, she vowed silently to herself: I will fight. I will be recognized. And no one—no one—will ever take my stories away again.