"I…"
The word dissolved in the cold air, fragile as breath on glass. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out rational thought.
The shadow behind the lights didn't move, but I could feel their attention sharpen—like a knife pressing against my throat.
"You what, Jiwon?" the interviewer prompted, their tone deceptively kind. "You think Seongwoo was wrong? That you're not different?"
Every muscle in my body locked.
Different. That word again. It wasn't a question anymore—it was a trap.
I forced my hands to unclench from my lap and offered the faintest smile. "I think he meant I approach performance differently. I… try to focus on emotion rather than technique. It can come across as unconventional."
A pause. Papers rustled again, deliberate, predatory.
"Unconventional," the interviewer echoed, as if tasting the word. "That's one way to put it. You do have a very distinct stage presence. The camera seems drawn to you."
