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Chapter 3
Hyerin stepped out of the taxi and followed a familiar street.
The evening sidewalks were moderately busy with people.
“Come watch a play!”
She flinched.
A flyer was shoved right in front of her face.
She’d been deliberately keeping her distance from the theater streets, knowing how aggressive their promotions could get. But clearly, hawking tactics had evolved—someone had come this close on purpose.
Thank goodness I’m wearing a mask…
The staff member, pressing a flyer into her hands, asked brightly:
“Not interested in theater?”
“…”
“But wow, your eyes… they look just like a celebrity’s. Has anyone ever told you that you resemble Yoo Hyerin?”
She shook her head, but the staff pressed on.
“Really? You look exactly like her.”
Well, that’s because… I am her.
Hyerin swallowed the words before they left her lips.
Perhaps interpreting her silence as discomfort, the staff stammered an apology.
“Ah, sorry. That must’ve been offensive. I didn’t mean—”
“…”
“Anyway, since you’re so pretty, why not stop by and see one show? Just one! They’re all good, I promise!”
Pulling her cap lower, Hyerin walked past without a word.
This kind of overzealous salesperson was best dealt with by simply moving along.
By the time she glanced back, the staff was already shoving flyers at a new target, waving the paper eagerly.
Phew.
Not the most pleasant experience, but Hyerin chose to forget it.
No need to let something so minor ruin my mood.
…Especially not when she’d just gone through something far more absurd.
“Will the day come when I have to report on your news myself?”
After experiencing that encounter, this sort of annoyance didn’t even register.
Well… thanks for that, at least.
Her frown eased as a familiar sign came into view.
A deep brown signboard swayed gently, the engraved gold letters of Intuition glinting faintly with each movement.
Hyerin descended the stairs into the basement.
Clink.
The heavy door swung open, releasing a thick wave of bittersweet tobacco.
It was a comforting smell, welcoming her back.
Inside, the faint strains of old pop music floated. Intuition was the jazz bar she and Youngseo had frequented together.
After we first stumbled upon this place, we came here all the time.
The food was good, but what Hyerin loved most was the private, reservation-only booths.
“Miss Hyerin, you’re here?”
“Ah, hello, boss.”
The neatly dressed owner appeared behind the empty bar.
“How’ve you been? You’re harder and harder to spot these days.”
“I just haven’t had much reason to come to this neighborhood lately.”
“Still, it’s been too long. You haven’t found another bar, have you?”
“Of course not. Where else would we go?”
Hyerin laughed awkwardly.
If she and Youngseo still met as often as before, she would’ve come by more frequently. But after Youngseo suddenly quit acting, their meetups dwindled.
And it’s not like I’m such a drinker that I’d come here alone…
She quickly changed the subject.
“And you, boss? Been doing well?”
“Doing well, except business is dead. That part isn’t so great.”
The owner leaned on the counter with a sigh.
“You’re my first customer tonight, Hyerin. When Youngseo comes later, that makes two. Still, just seeing you two after so long—today’s business is as good as done. Go on, order anything. I’ll make it special.”
After placing her order, Hyerin headed toward one of the curtained tables.
As she settled in, her phone chimed on the table.
Unni, sorry. I’ll be a little late.
“She must be busy again.”
Youngseo always said she was better suited to watching performances than being in them. Ever since she started seriously studying film directing, her days were packed.
I heard casting was especially tough for this indie film. It’s her first submission too, so she’s putting everything into it.
Hyerin tapped out a reply telling her to take her time.
“Still… is it really okay for me to be in a film like that?”
She’d turned down Youngseo’s offers to cast her more than once.
I know I’m in no position to be picky, failing auditions left and right… but I’d just be a burden.
For now, things were quiet only because her whereabouts hadn’t hit the news.
If word spread that she was returning, the response was obvious.
“The lineup looked great, but I’m skipping it because of Yoo Hyerin.”
That was what people would say.
And in her little sister figure’s debut project, that would be unforgivable.
She’d only relented because of something Youngseo had told her during her relentless persuasion.
Well, since I’m doing it, I’d better give it everything.
To kill time, Hyerin tapped into her photo album. Nothing passed the time better than scrolling through old pictures.
She thought she’d revisit some of her shots with Youngseo—
—but then she froze.
Her brow twitched.
The photo filling her screen showed a tall man in a sharp suit.
A sharp, disagreeable face she knew all too well.
Lee Hyun, holding an iced coffee, striding into STB headquarters.
“Oh, right. I saved this too.”
Some idol fan had accidentally snapped it outside STB a while ago, and the photo had gone viral.
Hyerin studied it with distaste.
Lee Hyun’s cold gaze pierced straight into the lens, as if he knew he was being photographed.
“…”
His expression looked like it could spill venomous words at her at any second.
“Hah. What on earth did I ever see in this guy…?”
Up until now, she’d saved countless photos as a fan. But there was no reason to anymore.
I probably have plenty more of him anyway.
Scrolling quickly, Hyerin searched through her album. It wasn’t hard—
Aside from shots of <Serenade>’s desserts, nearly everything was connected to the STB anchor.
“Why did I even save so many pointless things?”
What had moved her so much?
She even had screenshots of the one and only interview Lee Hyun had ever granted.
Q. STB recently held auditions for anchors. Some say your appointment as the youngest-ever main anchor was unprecedented.
A. It is unprecedented. Normally, the main anchor role goes to veteran announcers or seasoned reporters.
Q. People praise your hosting ability, but isn’t it a burdensome position?
A. I just do the job I’ve been given. More than burden, my thought is simply: I must do well.
Q. Do you have a personal goal?
A. I want to do this work for a long time.
“…”
Before she knew it, Hyerin was absorbed in the interview.
She snapped out of it with a start.
What am I doing? I came here to delete this.
She began selecting photos at random to erase—
when the curtain suddenly pulled open.
Youngseo slipped inside, breathless from running.
“Unni, I’m so sorry. I’m way too late.”
“It’s fine. Sit down.”
Flushed and weary, Youngseo collapsed into the opposite seat.
“Should we just head home early tonight?”
“No, it’s okay. It’s been ages since we met. Besides, I have things to talk about…”
She downed her highball in one gulp.
Clack. The half-emptied glass hit the table sharply.
“But unni. Do you like that anchor too?”
“…What?”
“The photo on your phone. Wasn’t that him? Lee Hyun, or whatever his name is.”
“…Ah.”
She must’ve glimpsed the screen before Hyerin hastily shoved it aside.
Hyerin stammered an excuse.
“Just… because he’s handsome. And he’s really famous these days, right?”
“Yeah, super famous. People go crazy for him, like he’s a celebrity.”
“I see. Interesting.”
Her answers grew curt. Hyerin couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth.
Luckily, the food arrived just then.
“Here you go, avocado fries.”
“And for you two, another round of highballs—on the house.”
Hyerin seized the chance to change topics.
“So, how’s the film prep going? Must be tough handling everything yourself.”
Youngseo sighed instead of answering.
“Writing the script was fun… but once I started real prep, everything went wrong.”
“Did you finish casting?”
“More or less. Just a few left.”
She downed her drink again. The ice clattered noisily in the empty glass.
“Hey, slow down.”
Hyerin quickly refilled her water.
Given her usual tolerance, the pace was worrying. Her flushed cheeks only confirmed it.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to talk movies tonight.”
“No, we can. That’s why I wanted to meet.”
“You sure?”
Hyerin smiled uncertainly.
“So, when can I get the script? I’m dying to see it.”
“Oh, that…”
Youngseo reached into her bag.
Her hand fumbled for a moment before retreating empty.
“Actually, unni… I have something to ask.”
“Yeah? What is it?”
“My film. What are you really thinking, saying yes to this?”
