"Oppa, you're so manly!"
Hearing him breeze through the convenience store incident, Han So-hee's admiration hit its peak.
Manly, mature, humble—a real man she liked more by the minute.
"Oppa?" Lee Jin-woo frowned. "How old are you, calling me oppa?"
Han So-hee wagged her finger cheekily. "A woman's age is a secret, not for outsiders."
When Joo-bin returned, Han So-hee was unwittingly cozying up to him, laughing like a blooming flower.
A pang hit Joo-bin, but she forced a smile. "What's so funny?"
"Women's ages. She called me oppa."
Her smile faltered. "Oh, haha… So-hee, can we chat for a sec?"
"Sure!" Flashing him a bright grin, Han So-hee followed her across the street.
Joo-bin gestured animatedly, while Han So-hee nibbled her straw, seemingly unbothered.
Lee Jin-woo's lips curved upward.
With a rebellious girl like Han So-hee, chasing was the worst move.
Anyone trying to get close often faced fierce pushback.
Good or bad didn't matter—only if she wanted it.
She probably thought the world was hers to control, her fate in her hands.
Young, naive, foolish, arrogant—classic youth.
So, after their initial greeting, he hadn't spoken to her or even glanced her way.
That sparked her curiosity and defiance, fueling her interest.
Curiosity, like the devil's whisper, was the first step to falling.
She likely thought she'd taken an interest in him.
Exactly what he wanted. Now, he'd wait patiently as she stepped closer to the abyss.
When would their next "chance" meeting be?
"Relax, no one's after your oppa. He's just fun."
Han So-hee's casual attitude only deepened Joo-bin's worry.
Your best friend was often your worst rival.
Joo-bin had never seen her laugh so freely with a guy.
Her nickname was "Iron Heart."
No matter what, she stayed calm, a faint smile on her lips, like she didn't belong in this world.
That genuine, radiant smile was a first in their friendship.
Every anomaly had a reason.
Joo-bin just hoped things wouldn't go the way she feared.
"Done chatting?"
Ignoring the awkward vibe, Lee Jin-woo shifted to the entertainment industry.
"You've got the looks. Ever thought about being a star?"
Han So-hee blinked, dazed. "Me? Trainee auditions are brutal."
"You tried out? SM?"
"Yeah, still a trainee candidate, hoping to advance."
Korea's trainee system was cutthroat.
Some broke their legs to grow taller, aiming for a few extra centimeters to pass.
Corporal punishment, 20-hour training days, and verbal abuse were routine.
The suffocating high-pressure atmosphere often broke people, draining their love for life.
Aspiring trainees flooded in like carp, and eliminations were just as relentless.
Broken hands, sprains, cuts, bruises—they gritted their teeth to avoid being cut.
And that was just the start of years-long trainee life.
"In big companies, trainees live like dogs, stripped of basic rights and respect."
Yet, the allure of fame and wealth drew countless youths to the industry.
In this rigid class system, debuting might be an ordinary person's only shot at changing their fate.
Even if they debuted, they'd still be controlled by companies and chaebols.
In Korea, celebrities were at the bottom.
Anyone could berate them. Even if they did nothing wrong, public outrage could force them to kneel in apology.
Dissing fans? That'd ruin their career and trigger online hate so bad they couldn't survive.
Who gave a celebrity the guts to offend their "providers"?
When a certain star's award ceremony in China—where the host knelt—hit Korean news, it caused an uproar.
Even local stars couldn't fathom it.
Why kneel? Shouldn't it be the other way around?!
No entertainment industry worldwide gave stars as much status as China's.
Female stars ranked below males.
For 80 million won, they'd tear each other apart.
"Ever thought about what you'd do if that happened?"
Joo-bin and So-hee both fell silent, heads down. "That's why you pick big companies. If you're popular enough, they'll protect you."
Fair point. SM had clout.
Top agencies ensured their stars didn't become "public buses."
At worst, they'd be "socialites."
"We'll deal with it then. Whatever happens, it's better than this life."
Their youthful fearlessness shone through.
There's always a way. But why not consider where that path led?
A dead end was still a path.
"If you run into trouble, call me."
They didn't take him seriously. A "big brother" couldn't shield them from chaebol power.
Still, Joo-bin threw herself into his arms, cooing, "Oppa~"
So-hee's heart softened too.
In that moment, he seemed utterly dependable.
At 8 PM, Han So-hee said she had to get back to the dorm, or her manager would punish her.
Joo-bin, however
(End of Chapter)