3.turning point - muse on fame

Eunmil, and his black and white street photography.

I stood before the wall of photographs, a feeling of mild unease settling in my chest.

The panels told a story, but it was a story I had only gathered in pieces. The narrator—me, the outsider looking in—had explained, Eunmil never interacted with his subjects directly. He was a ghost with a camera, a thief of moments.

I pictured him on the street, lurking in the shadows of an awning, his lens pointed at the rushing world. He took photos of random people in public… And then came the audacious part: he found them afterward. He hunted them down, these fleeting faces, to do the right thing. …and asked for their permission after to display their photos for exhibitions.

I focused on the framed picture in the center. A woman, captured mid-stride, a coffee cup in her hand, her hair flowing, her expression lost in a quiet moment on a busy street. It was a beautiful shot, melancholy and elegant.

The aesthetic was unmistakable, an artistic choice that defined his entire body of work. The photos were always black and white… He drained the color from the world, leaving only the stark contrast of light and shadow, which, ironically, made the underlying emotional truth feel more vivid.

I looked at the subject again. She seemed to be waiting, or perhaps just pausing, wrapped in her own world. The caption I'd seen in my mind continued: …and no matter the reality, the subjects appeared to lead romantic lives. This was Eunmil's genius—or his great manipulation. He could take a picture of a woman having a bad day, rushing to a job she hated, and through the lens of black-and-white art, transform her into an enigmatic protagonist of a lonely love story.

It was powerful, this curated romance, yet I knew the truth was always murkier.

The narrator's voice—my voice, telling myself this story—faded to a murmur, reflecting on the impact of his work on the populace. Over time, as people walked the streets… they began to see the world differently. They started posing, unconsciously. They began performing the 'romantic life' Eunmil's photos had promised. They were becoming their own black-and-white subjects, waiting for the hidden lens to immortalize their perfect, monochrome, melancholic existence.

And I realized: the biggest manipulation wasn't how he photographed his subjects, but how he had successfully convinced the world to become his subjects.

I watched the people on the street below, no longer just subjects, but performers. Their movements were subtle, calculated. A hand held just so, a chin tilted to catch the light, a lingering look between companions that was perhaps more for the benefit of the hidden lens than for each other.

They hoped to be captured by Eunmil's camera.

It was a strange form of validation, this desire to have one's mundane reality transformed into a cinematic, black-and-white romance. The public didn't resent the photographer who captured their image without permission; they craved him.

It was a concept that could have easily failed, inviting lawsuits and protests. The narrator in my head—my own critical thoughts—knew this: Though this method of photography could have been met with criticism…

But it wasn't.

Why? The answer was a testament to his talent. …he was a master of his craft, and so the public embraced his work. Eunmil didn't just take pictures; he gave them an idealized version of themselves. He was a storyteller with a profound eye for composition and light, transforming the ordinary sidewalk into a stage, the streetlamps into spotlights.

I saw the result of his artistry clearly in the gallery, where the black and white images hung side-by-side with the blurred, everyday colors of the street outside.

That's how Eunmil became a photographer who gave the world something to hope for in their daily lives. He didn't offer wealth or fame; he offered beauty and significance. He made the simple act of walking down the street feel important.

I turned my attention from the wall of monochrome to the final, looming frame at the end of the exhibition. The text below it was a dramatic shift, promising something different, a break in his signature style.

AND THE SUBJECT OF HIS FIRST COLOR PHOTO…

My heart thumped, a sudden excitement rising. After all the careful, controlled beauty of the black and white world, I desperately wanted to see what he deemed worthy of color. Who was the person—or what was the moment—that was so real, so essential, that the monochrome mask had to finally come off? I stepped closer, ready to finally see the true world, as only Eunmil could capture it

I stood before the final piece, my breath catching in my throat. All the anticipation, all the subtle hints that this subject was different—that she warranted a complete break from Eunmil's established, black-and-white world—culminated in the text box hovering just above the canvas.

AND THE SUBJECT OF HIS FIRST COLOR PHOTO, AND HIS LAST MODEL…

The tension was almost unbearable. Eunmil had defined a generation's view of romance and beauty using only shadow and light. To use color was to abandon his entire aesthetic philosophy, to say that this one person possessed a reality so vibrant, so essential, that it could not be muted.

My eyes fell to the next text panel, which confirmed her importance, declaring her name and title like an official decree.

EUNMIL'S MUSE 朋

Below the character for 'Myeong' was a small footnote, a quiet translation of her name: - LIGHT.

Light. After years of manipulating the shadows, the darkness, the romantic absence of color, his final, most significant work was devoted to Light. It made a strange, powerful sense.

I finally followed the gaze down, and the subject's identity was revealed in a final, stunning announcement:

…WAS NONE OTHER THAN Myeong.

Then, I saw her.

The image wasn't a posed street shot or a melancholic profile. It was intimate, close, and startlingly real. The warm, soft colors of the photograph hit me like a physical rush. Her long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the white shirt with blue trim was sharp and clear. She was leaning forward, her face tilted.

And that smile—the slight upturn of her lips, the subtle hint of something secretive and profound in her dark eyes—was captivating.

Unlike the black-and-white subjects who possessed a manufactured, unattainable glamour, Myeong was simply and undeniably alive. Her skin had a flush, her lips a gloss. She wasn't an archetype of lonely beauty; she was an individual, a brilliant spot of color in a world Eunmil had purposefully desaturated.

This wasn't a picture of a romantic life; it was a picture of a real one. It wasn't about hope for some fictional future; it was about the dazzling reality of a singular person. She was the reason the black-and-white phase had to end. She was the light that broke the camera's filter. And looking at her, I finally understood: this was not just his first color photo; it was the only one that would ever truly matter.

I heard the murmurs first. A low, collective hum that rose into a palpable buzz, like an approaching swarm. I knew that sound. It was the sound of the world reacting to Eunmil's work. But this time, I was the cause.

"EUNMIL'S SECRET MUSE '明'

WHO IS '明'?"

And then, the quiet, undeniable truth: The Legendary Photographer's Muse. The world is buzzing. Of course it was. For years, Eunmil had shown them romance in shadows, hope in grayscale. He was the master of the beautiful, black-and-white lie. I was the person who finally demanded color.

I saw myself on the large screen, my portrait first. My dark hair, my skin's blush, the white shirt. I was just me, not a posed model, not an anonymous street subject. I was real, and that was the entire point.

But the final reveal was the most overwhelming. The massive photograph displayed, and above it, the text declared my arrival:

THE WOMAN WHO'S NEVER BEFORE BEEN REVEALED

"明"

I could feel the intensity of the light in that image—the light that gave me my name, Myeong, which means Light. I am laughing in the photo, my eyes closed in genuine, uninhibited joy. I remember that moment, caught securely in the cradle of his arm. It wasn't a posed 'romantic life' for exhibition; it was our life.

I am the subject that broke the pattern. I am the reason there can be no more black-and-white. I am the color in his world, and by revealing me, Eunmil has shown the world that even the greatest art must eventually surrender to a greater, more vibrant truth.

Now that the secret is out, and everyone is staring at my face, at my laugh, at the undeniable life captured in that single photograph, I wonder: How will the world react to a love that is more real than the dream they were sold?

The Light and the Insignificance

I stared at my face on the phone screen. The headline was plastered across the top: "HIS SECRET MUSE." My portrait—the one from the exhibition, the one that broke all of Eunmil's rules—was below it, vibrant with uncharacteristic color. The comments were already a landslide.

I brought the cigarette to my lips and took a slow, deliberate drag. The smoke curled into the bright, clear air. Psh.

The world was finally seeing me. But they weren't seeing me. They were seeing a concept, a revelation, the ultimate answer to a decade-long riddle posed by a legendary photographer.

"THE MORE THE WORLD FUSSES OVER ME…"

I watched my own eyes on the screen, the eyes that Eunmil had framed and canonized as "Light." He saw brilliance; the world saw a beautiful puzzle piece.

The sudden, intense scrutiny should have felt validating, proof that I was worthy of breaking his monochrome spell. But the reality was a cold, sharp blade of irony.

"…THE MORE I REALIZE HOW INSIGNIFICANT I'VE BEEN."

Before this moment, I was just a person, living my life, holding a cigarette, feeling the familiar, low-grade ache of my own ordinary existence. Eunmil gave me meaning, yes, but only as his muse. The world only cares about me because of him. They aren't celebrating Myeong; they're celebrating the one thing the great artist couldn't capture in black and white.

All this fuss, all this noise, all this blinding light. It only serves to illuminate the vast, empty space that was my life before he decided to color it in. I exhale the smoke, watching it dissolve against the impossibly blue sky. I am merely a mirror, reflecting his greatness. That's a beautiful tragedy, I suppose, but it doesn't make me any less of a shadow.

What happens to the Light when the photographer puts down his camera? I guess that's the real question no one is asking.

The meeting was set in a trendy cafe, Tollys Coffee, the kind of place where deals were made and futures were shaped. After the chaotic revelation of my identity as Eunmil's muse, this moment felt inevitable. I was a sensation now, a brand, and the corporate vultures were circling.

The first person to speak was all business and polished charm.

"IT'S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, Myeong."

I nodded, watching the woman across the small table. Her smile was wide, perhaps a little too perfect. She extended her hand in a warm, inviting gesture.

"I'M DIRECTOR ILHA BAEK OF METAPHOR ENTERTAINMENT."

I reached out, taking her hand. Her grip was firm and confident. I could tell she was sizing me up, already calculating the commercial potential of 'Eunmil's Secret Muse.' The name of her company—Metaphor—felt almost too on-the-nose given the artistic drama that had launched me.

A second person shifted into view, a man whose presence immediately cooled the atmosphere. He was introduced by someone off-panel, perhaps an assistant or another executive.

"AND THIS IS OUR MANAGER…"

He had strikingly pale, almost white hair, and was dressed impeccably in a dark suit and turtleneck. His expression was reserved, his eyes cool and assessing. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head.

"NOD."

The introduction was completed with a drawn-out dramatic pause that seemed to fit his aloof style.

"…YUHAN EUN."

I felt a sudden, sharp interest. Eun. The same surname as Eunmil, the man who had made me famous. It could be coincidence, but in this world of meticulously managed narratives, I doubted it. This man, Yuhan Eun, looked like he was carved from ice, completely unlike Eunmil's passionate, artistic energy.

I looked from the smiling Director Ilha Baek to the stoic Manager Yuhan Eun. Director Baek was the hook, offering excitement and opportunity. Manager Eun felt like the anchor, the cold reality of the business.

I just went from being a secret muse to a public commodity, I thought, a slight shiver running down my back. And now, I have to figure out if this Yuhan Eun is a relative, a rival, or just another complication in my very colorful new life.

I stood before the two executives from Metaphor Entertainment. The polite formality felt heavy, especially with the weight of Eunmil's revelation still pressing on me. I gathered my courage and spoke the only words that felt necessary right then.

"…YES… HELLO."

My voice was a bit soft, a stark contrast to the buzzing atmosphere they had created.

"I'M MYEONG YU."

I offered a respectful bow, a deep bend at the waist, hoping to project composure despite the nervousness that tightened my chest. It was a reflex, an attempt to bridge the gap between their powerful world and my suddenly public one.

Director Ilha Baek's voice cut through the awkward silence with its professional cheerfulness. She gestured toward the table.

"LET'S HAVE A SEAT."

I straightened up, but before I could move, I felt the unmistakable intensity of Manager Yuhan Eun's gaze. His white-blond hair and striking features made him hard to ignore, but it was the way he looked at me that was unsettling.

STARE

I felt my cheeks warm under his scrutiny, my thoughts immediately spiraling into confusion.

"WHY IS HE STARING AT ME?"

His eyes were cold, assessing, and entirely unblinking. It wasn't the kind of look a manager gives a potential new client; it felt deeper, more personal, almost like recognition or, perhaps, suspicion. The fact that he shared a surname with the photographer, Eunmil, only magnified my unease.

Ignoring the chill of his gaze, Director Baek continued with her smooth pitch, the words flowing easily. She was clearly impressed, and I could already hear the sales pitch forming in her voice.

"TO MEET SOMEONE AS TALENTED…"

I forced myself to break eye contact with Manager Eun and focus on the Director. Regardless of the man's unsettling stare, this was my chance. I was no longer just a muse; I was Myeong Yu, and I was here to determine my own value. The table was waiting.

I settled into the chair at the cafe table, the dark wood surface separating me from the Metaphor Entertainment executives. A glass of iced coffee sat nearby, condensation dripping down its side, looking as cool and collected as I wished I felt.

Director Ilha Baek took a delicate sip of her espresso and then smiled, laying the flattery on thick.

"TO MEET SOMEONE AS FAMOUS AS YOU IN PERSON… IT'S AN HONOR."

I could only manage a flustered whisper in return, the word "famous" still feeling alien when applied to my life.

"F-FAMOUS? THANK YOU."

Ilha Baek chuckled softly, already seeing dollar signs. "OF COURSE, I'M SURE YOU'LL GROW TO BE EVEN MORE IMPRESSIVE." She was selling a future, a persona that would transcend the muse and become the artist.

But a more urgent, pressing question cut through the professional niceties. The fame was one thing, but the swiftness with which they had found me and, more importantly, identified me, was suspicious. The black-and-white photos of the street subjects were anonymous; my identity as the final, color muse was supposed to be the biggest secret.

I leaned forward, my tone dropping to a serious one.

"BUT… HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT I WAS 明?"

I glanced at the small footnote that lingered in my mind: 明 - LIGHT. They hadn't just found the woman in the photo; they knew the symbolic weight of the name.

"I DIDN'T THINK ANYONE KNEW."

I searched Ilha Baek's face for a slip, a hint of how they had pierced the veil Eunmil had so carefully constructed. The Manager, Yuhan Eun, still sat silently next to her, his gaze intense. In this meeting, I wasn't just Myeong Yu, a girl drinking iced coffee; I was Light, and someone had already seen through the lens and stolen my script. I needed to know who.

My question about how they knew I was "Light" was completely side-stepped. Director Ilha Baek didn't answer the big secret; instead, she pivoted to a completely different, even more surprising reveal.

She tilted her head, a soft, calculating question in her voice. "I WONDER WHY PEOPLE DON'T RECOGNIZE YOU?" She paused, taking a sip of her coffee and smiling broadly—a practiced, confident SMILE. "I COULD TELL RIGHT AWAY."

I blinked, momentarily forgetting the mystery of my muse identity. The camera angle shifted, and I could see the sudden, wide-eyed look of shock on my own face.

"!"

Then she dropped the name. The name of the movie, the small role I had almost forgotten about.

"YOU MADE AN IMPRESSION ON ME IN THAT MOVIE YOU WERE IN, VERTIGO."

My heart hammered against my ribs. It wasn't just that she recognized me; it was that she recognized me from a past life, a past career that had felt like a complete failure. Before I was Eunmil's muse, I was just a struggling, insignificant actress.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU REMEMBERED THAT SMALL ROLE I PLAYED. THANK YOU."

My voice was genuinely touched. My career in film had been a series of brief appearances and quickly forgotten faces. I had assumed that world was firmly in the past. Director Baek just shrugged and affirmed the memory with quiet certainty: "OF COURSE."

It was then I realized the full scope of the Metaphor Entertainment proposal. They hadn't just discovered the famous Muse; they had researched the forgotten Actress. They weren't just capitalizing on Eunmil's artistry; they were building on my past potential. My question about the identity of "Light" still hung unanswered, but now I understood something else: they didn't just want the photograph; they wanted the performer in it. I was no longer an accident of fame; I was a calculated opportunity.

Director Ilha Baek's revelation that she remembered my small acting role in Vertigo was a distraction, a way to show her keen eye for talent and research. But I knew it was all preamble. She hadn't come here just to sign a former actress; she came for Eunmil's muse.

The Director finished her coffee, the small porcelain cup rattling as she set it back on the saucer.

CLACK

She leaned forward, her professional smile thinning into something genuinely probing. Her eyes held a spark of genuine curiosity—the curiosity of the public, amplified and distilled into one question that mattered most for their marketing strategy.

"I'M SO CURIOUS…"

I braced myself. The compliment about the movie had been a pleasant lie, a softened approach to the hard truth they really wanted.

"…WHAT WAS YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO EUNMIL?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and direct. It was the only question anyone in the world wanted answered. Was I his lover? His relative? His student? The truth of my connection to the legendary, reclusive photographer was the gold they were chasing.

My composure cracked. My eyes widened in surprise and maybe a little fear.

OH…

I didn't have to look at Manager Yuhan Eun to know his intense stare was finally justified. My identity as Myeong Yu was known. My former career as an actress was known. But my true relationship with Eunmil was the key that unlocked the entire mystery. And judging by the Director's calculating expression, they weren't going to let me leave that cafe until they had the answer. I had to decide if I would tell them the truth, or begin crafting a new, marketable lie.

I gripped the glass of iced coffee, the cold seeping into my fingers, trying to steady the nervousness that threatened to spill out. The Director's question—What was your relationship to Eunmil?—demanded an answer, but the truth was messy, contradictory, and utterly bizarre.

I paused, gathering my thoughts. "WELL…"

My eyes flicked between the two executives. Director Ilha Baek waited with a patient, practiced look, while Manager Yuhan Eun remained silent, his intense stare unchanging.

I decided to start with the most shocking detail, the one that undercut the entire "Secret Muse" narrative. I raised the glass slightly as I spoke, the ice clinking.

"THE AWKWARD PART IS… I'VE NEVER MET HIM BEFORE, AND I NEVER GAVE HIM PERMISSION TO EXHIBIT MY PHOTOS."

A beat of silence followed, the words hanging heavy in the air of the cafe. They were looking for a romance, a partnership, a deep artistic collaboration. Instead, I gave them the raw, unexpected reality of the situation.

Director Baek finally shifted, resting her chin on her hand as she processed the information. I continued, speaking honestly about the unsettling nature of the whole affair.

"IT'S HONESTLY A LITTLE SCARY HOW HE TOOK THOSE PHOTOS OF ME 10 YEARS AGO…"

I met their gaze, including the unnervingly calm eyes of Yuhan Eun.

"…AND I'M STILL NOT SURE HOW TO RESPOND…"

Ten years. My entire life was being viewed through a decade-old snapshot, taken by a man I didn't know, a photo that broke all of his own rules just by being in color. I was not his muse, his lover, or his collaborator. I was a subject, a portrait that had somehow attained sentience and was now sitting across from two people eager to exploit its fame. The revelation that I had no relationship with Eunmil was not an ending; it was just the beginning of a whole new mystery.

"And yet," I thought, looking at their eager faces, "here I am, sitting at a table with an entertainment company."

I took a shaky breath, trying to process the implications of what I had just admitted: not only was I Eunmil's "Secret Muse," but I had never met him, and he never asked my permission to display my decade-old photo.

Director Ilha Baek's eyes went wide with genuine shock, her hand instinctively flying to her mouth.

"OH. THEN HE DIDN'T HAVE PERMISSION TO TAKE THOSE PHOTOS?"

She quickly added, trying to reconcile the artistic legend with the legal reality, "I HEARD THAT WAS HIS USUAL PROCESS, BUT…"

I knew the legend. "EUNMIL NEVER INTERACTED WITH HIS SUBJECTS DIRECTLY. HE TOOK PHOTOS OF RANDOM PEOPLE IN PUBLIC... AND ASKED FOR THEIR PERMISSION AFTER TO DISPLAY THEIR PHOTOS FOR EXHIBITIONS." But he hadn't done that for me. I was the one exception, the one person he captured and then failed to contact.

Director Baek's professional demeanor vanished. She slammed her hand down on the table, the noise echoing sharply in the quiet café.

SLAM

"TAKING PHOTOS OF PEOPLE WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT IS A CRIME. IT'S UNACCEPTABLE!"

Her immediate, passionate outrage was unsettling. This wasn't about public relations anymore; this was about legal liability and the potential destruction of Eunmil's legacy. It was a terrifying position for me to be in. The photo that had made me "famous" was an act of non-consensual use.

I looked at the two executives—one suddenly furious and protective, the other, Yuhan Eun, still silent and assessing—and realized I was completely out of my depth. My life had gone from insignificant to globally famous to potentially criminal evidence in a matter of hours.

I leaned forward, my composure finally giving way to desperation, and looked to the Director, the only one currently offering emotion.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE FOR ME?"

I needed guidance. I needed a strategy. I was no longer an actress or a muse; I was a key player in a legal and artistic scandal I hadn't asked for. How do I respond to the man who made me famous through an unauthorized, decade-old picture?

Director Ilha Baek's declaration that taking my photos without my consent was a crime hit me with the force of a physical blow. The world was now seeing me as a victim of a crime, not a muse—a dramatic shift from the initial press frenzy.

"HMM… YOU COULD GET THE PHOTOS TAKEN DOWN THROUGH A LAWSUIT. BUT I CAN'T GUARANTEE THAT THE RESULTS WILL ALWAYS BE GOOD…"

She paused, covering her mouth as she thought. The risk of the lawsuit was obvious: it could destroy the legacy that had just created my fame, leaving me with nothing but a legal bill and a reputation as the woman who sued a dead legend.

Manager Yuhan Eun, who had been silent through the entire exchange, finally broke the tension by drumming his fingers on the table.

TAP TAP

He spoke for the first time in a tone that was flat and devoid of emotion: "HE'S ALSO DEAD NOW, SO YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO GET AN APOLOGY FROM HIM."

That single statement was the cruelest truth of all. The man who had unknowingly stolen ten years of my likeness was gone. There would be no confrontation, no explanation, no justice—only his art and my predicament.

I slumped slightly, running a hand through my hair. "SIGH… HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN…?"

I stared at the black-and-white images on the exhibition pamphlet I still held. The art of Eunmil, the photographer who "GAVE THE WORLD SOMETHING TO HOPE FOR IN THEIR DAILY LIVES" and whose craft was so masterful "THE PUBLIC EMBRACED HIS WORK."

He was a master of turning the ordinary into the romantic. His subjects "APPEARED TO LEAD ROMANTIC LIVES." He was a benevolent thief, a legend. But I, Myeong—the subject of "HIS FIRST COLOR PHOTO, AND HIS LAST MODEL"—was the wrench in his perfect machine. I was the one he didn't get permission from.

I looked up at the Director and Manager Eun, who were now watching me intently. I had to pivot, to look beyond the immediate legal fight and find the opportunity hidden in the chaos.

I whispered to myself, "…BUT IF YOU THINK OF IT ANOTHER WAY…"

The art was an asset. The scandal was fame. The lawsuit was a publicity engine. I, Myeong Yu, the woman he never met, had been given a strange, terrifying gift. The world was watching. The question was, did I want to be the woman who destroyed the legend, or the woman who became a new one?

I sat at the table, the revelation hanging heavy in the air: Eunmil, the legendary photographer who defined a generation's view of street romance, had photographed me, Myeong Yu, ten years ago for his first color photo and last model, without my knowledge or consent. Now he was dead, and I was sitting with entertainment executives, fielding a potential lawsuit.

Director Ilha Baek and Manager Yuhan Eun had initially offered me the hard truth: I could sue and attempt to get the photos taken down, but the legal battle would be messy, and the results might not always be good. The final, unappetizing detail was that since Eunmil was dead, I wouldn't even get an apology from him. I was stuck with the fallout.

Then, Director Baek shifted her approach. She saw the market in the chaos.

"…BUT IF YOU THINK OF IT ANOTHER WAY…"

She leaned in, her eyes sharp and assessing. She was moving from legal advisor to publicist.

"YOU COULD THINK OF IT AS AN OPPORTUNITY."

I listened intently. My mind flashed through the core of Eunmil's fame: "HE TOOK PHOTOS OF RANDOM PEOPLE IN PUBLIC... AND ASKED FOR THEIR PERMISSION AFTER." But he hadn't done that for me. Yet, his work had been so powerful, so masterful, that "THE PUBLIC EMBRACED HIS WORK" and had been secretly hoping "TO BE CAPTURED BY EUNMIL'S CAMERA." My image, the vibrant, full-color one that was so different from his usual "BLACK AND WHITE" aesthetic, was the ultimate prize.

Director Baek painted the picture for me, offering a polished, irresistible narrative.

"MUSE 明 IS ACTUALLY THE ACTRESS MYEONG YU. DOESN'T THAT SOUND NICE?"

She was offering me a career, a rebirth built on the shoulders of the very scandal that threatened to consume me. She pointed to my surprised face, the wide-eyed girl staring back at her.

"YOU'RE GETTING MORE ATTENTION THAN EVER BEFORE."

I knew she was right. My small, forgotten role in the movie Vertigo was nothing compared to the global fame Eunmil had handed me, however unwittingly. I looked at the collage of my photos she presented—my smiling, laughing face, the light he had named me after.

"AND THOSE PHOTOS… THERE'S A KIND OF MAGICAL ALLURE TO THEM."

It was a strange, terrifying truth. Eunmil, the legend who never interacted with his subjects directly, had stolen my image, yet in doing so, he had given me the one thing I had always chased: a spotlight. My insignificant life had been forcibly transformed into "THE WOMAN WHO'S NEVER BEFORE BEEN REVEALED."

I took a deep breath, the decision forming in my mind. A lawsuit would destroy the legacy that now defined me. Accepting this opportunity meant leveraging the scandal, turning the lack of consent into the starting point of my own narrative.

I wasn't just his muse. I was Myeong Yu, the actress who was captured by a dead master, and now, I would define the next act. I would use this fame—stolen or given—to finally make my own light shine.

Then, Director Baek shifted her approach. She saw the market in the chaos.

"…BUT IF YOU THINK OF IT ANOTHER WAY…"

She leaned in, her eyes sharp and assessing. She was moving from legal advisor to publicist.

"YOU COULD THINK OF IT AS AN OPPORTUNITY."

Director Baek painted the picture for me, offering a polished, irresistible narrative.

"MUSE 明 IS ACTUALLY THE ACTRESS MYEONG YU. DOESN'T THAT SOUND NICE?"

She was offering me a career, a rebirth built on the shoulders of the very scandal that threatened to consume me. She pointed to my surprised face, the wide-eyed girl staring back at her.

"YOU'RE GETTING MORE ATTENTION THAN EVER BEFORE."

"AND THOSE PHOTOS… THERE'S A KIND OF MAGICAL ALLURE TO THEM."

Based on all the provided images, here is a complete novel expansion using the first-person perspective (I) as the character Myeong Yu, incorporating the full narrative arc from the discovery of her fame to the final choice.

The Light and the Reckoning

I stood outside the gallery, a cigarette between my fingers. The phone screen blazed with the headline: "HIS SECRET MUSE." The more the world fussed over me, the more I realize how insignificant I've been before this moment. My entire life was being redefined by Eunmil, the legendary photographer whose work gave the world something to hope for in their daily lives. His street photos were always black and white, turning everyday people into romantic figures, and he was known to ask for their permission after to exhibit their work.

Then came the climax of his career: AND THE SUBJECT OF HIS FIRST COLOR PHOTO, AND HIS LAST MODEL… WAS NONE OTHER THAN MYEONG. My name—明, or Light—was now public. I was "THE WOMAN WHO'S NEVER BEFORE BEEN REVEALED."

My new life began at Tollys Coffee, meeting Director Ilha Baek of Metaphor Entertainment and the stoic Manager Yuhan Eun. I extended a hand in response to her REACH and introduced myself: "…YES… HELLO. I'M MYEONG YU."

Director Baek gushed, calling it "AN HONOR" to meet someone "AS FAMOUS AS YOU". I could only manage a flustered whisper: "F-FAMOUS? THANK YOU." I was still reeling, especially when Baek revealed she recognized me from a past, failed career: "YOU MADE AN IMPRESSION ON ME IN THAT MOVIE YOU WERE IN, VERTIGO." I was truly touched: "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU REMEMBERED THAT SMALL ROLE I PLAYED. THANK YOU."

But a deeper anxiety was gnawing at me. I looked at Baek and asked the critical question: "BUT… HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT I WAS 明? I DIDN'T THINK ANYONE KNEW." She brushed past the question, but I knew the answer was tied to the manager sitting next to her, Yuhan Eun, whose chilling STARE made me wonder, WHY IS HE STARING AT ME?

I eventually confessed the shocking truth: I had never met Eunmil, nor given him permission to exhibit my photos. He was also dead now, meaning I couldn't even get an apology from him.

Director Baek immediately pivoted. She wasn't just offering a contract; she was offering a lifeline. She saw the potential in the scandal, arguing that these photos, which held a kind of magical allure, were an OPPORTUNITY.

"DO YOU WANT TO TAKE THE PHOTOS DOWN, PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED AND LIVE AS YOU ARE NOW… OR DO YOU WANT TO BE A CELEBRATED ARTIST'S MUSE AND BECOME A STAR?"

I gripped my glass, staring out at the world that had suddenly become aware of my existence. I knew the lie she wanted me to tell—that I was a willing muse—and I hesitated, whispering, "...I DON'T KNOW..."

But the Director had anticipated my hesitation. She told me to be honest with myself. If I said I didn't know Eunmil, I would have to be prepared for the consequences: "BECAUSE THEN I'D BE LYING."

She was right. I couldn't un-ring the bell. I couldn't erase my sudden, brilliant visibility. The only choice left was to accept the gift, the curse, and the opportunity. I would use the light he gave me to finally shine in my own right.

It was my choice. I would be the star.

The Unexpected Muse

I stood on the street, taking a drag from my cigarette. Psh. The phone in my hand showed my own face beneath a blaring headline: "HIS SECRET MUSE". The world was buzzing, but the more the world fussed over me, the more I realized how insignificant I've been.

My life had been a series of small, forgotten moments. Now, I was Eunmil's Muse 明—Light—the subject of his first color photo, and his last model. He was a master whose work gave people hope for something in their daily lives and whose subjects appeared to lead romantic lives. Eunmil never interacted with his subjects directly, instead taking photos of random people in public and asking for their permission after to display their photos for exhibitions. His photos were always black and white. I was the exception, THE WOMAN WHO'S NEVER BEFORE BEEN REVEALED.

The inevitable meeting with the business world was set at Tollys Coffee.

The Interrogation and the Lie

Director Ilha Baek of Metaphor Entertainment offered her hand. "IT'S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, MYEONG," she said. I offered a small bow and introduced myself: "...YES... HELLO. I'M MYEONG YU".

Baek was overly complimentary: "TO MEET SOMEONE AS FAMOUS AS YOU IN PERSON... IT'S AN HONOR". "F-FAMOUS? THANK YOU," I stammered, feeling awkward. "OF COURSE, I'M SURE YOU'LL GROW TO BE EVEN MORE IMPRESSIVE", she added, smiling.

The manager, YUHAN EUN, sat silently next to her. His intense STARE was unnerving. WHY IS HE STARING AT ME? I wondered.

Baek quickly showed me she knew more than she let on. "I WONDER WHY PEOPLE DON'T RECOGNIZE YOU? I COULD TELL RIGHT AWAY," she claimed. She even remembered my past: "YOU MADE AN IMPRESSION ON ME IN THAT MOVIE YOU WERE IN, VERTIGO.". "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU REMEMBERED THAT SMALL ROLE I PLAYED. THANK YOU," I replied, genuinely shocked.

After a CLACK as she put down her cup, Baek got to the point: "I'M SO CURIOUS... WHAT WAS YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO EUNMIL?".

OH.... I gripped my iced coffee. "WELL...". "THE AWKWARD PART IS... I'VE NEVER MET HIM BEFORE, AND I NEVER GAVE HIM PERMISSION TO EXHIBIT MY PHOTOS". "I DIDN'T THINK ANYONE KNEW" I said, knowing the reveal of my symbolic name, 明—LIGHT, was just as damning.

"OH. THEN HE DIDN'T HAVE PERMISSION TO TAKE THOSE PHOTOS? I HEARD THAT WAS HIS USUAL PROCESS, BUT..." Baek said, shocked. She slammed her hand down. SLAM. "TAKING PHOTOS OF PEOPLE WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT IS A CRIME. IT'S UNACCEPTABLE!".

I was a legal victim, and I was completely lost. "DO YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE FOR ME?" I pleaded.

The Final Choice

Director Baek didn't give me legal advice; she gave me a career strategy. She offered a new, marketable truth: to "THINK OF IT AS ACTING".

We wrapped up the meeting. "THEN THINK ABOUT IT, AND GIVE US A CALL," she said. She even offered a hint of encouragement: "IT WON'T BE A DIFFICULT DECISION".

"IT WAS GREAT TO MEET YOU, MYEONG".

Now, alone in my thoughts, I knew she was right. I couldn't undo the fame. I had to choose: sue the dead legend and become the woman who destroyed his legacy, or embrace the story, become his manufactured muse, and finally become the star I always wanted to be. The choice wasn't just about the photos; it was about accepting a lie to unlock my own truth.

Based on all the provided images,

The Light and the Reckoning

I stood on the street, taking a breath and holding my phone. Psh. The screen showed a blaring headline: "HIS SECRET MUSE". The entire world was buzzing about "THE WOMAN WHO'S NEVER BEFORE BEEN REVEALED", identified by the name "明"—Light. My image, a vibrant, full-color portrait, was the subject of Eunmil's first color photo, and his last model.

The irony was crushing: "...THE MORE I REALIZE HOW INSIGNIFICANT I'VE BEEN". My small life had been forcibly made visible by a man I didn't know. He was a legendary photographer who gave the world something to hope for in their daily lives, whose black and white photos made subjects appear to lead romantic lives. Though his method of photography could have been met with criticism, the public embraced his work, with people hoping to be captured by Eunmil's camera.

The Meeting at Tollys Coffee

The executives from Metaphor Entertainment were waiting at Tollys Coffee. Director Ilha Baek reached out to me, saying "IT'S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, MYEONG". After they told me to "LET'S HAVE A SEAT", I gave a respectful BOW and introduced myself: "...YES... HELLO. I'M MYEONG YU".

Director Baek gushed, calling it "AN HONOR" to meet someone "AS FAMOUS AS YOU IN PERSON". "F-FAMOUS? THANK YOU," I stammered, still feeling alien to the word, but she assured me, "I'M SURE YOU'LL GROW TO BE EVEN MORE IMPRESSIVE".

Beside her sat the manager, YUHAN EUN. His intense STARE was unnerving, making me think, WHY IS HE STARING AT ME?.

Baek immediately showed she knew more than the press. "I WONDER WHY PEOPLE DON'T RECOGNIZE YOU? I COULD TELL RIGHT AWAY," she claimed. She had even recognized me from my forgotten past: "YOU MADE AN IMPRESSION ON ME IN THAT MOVIE YOU WERE IN, VERTIGO.". "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU REMEMBERED THAT SMALL ROLE I PLAYED. THANK YOU," I replied, genuinely touched.

The Core Conflict and the Choice

After a CLACK as she put down her cup, Baek moved to the inevitable question: "I'M SO CURIOUS... WHAT WAS YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO EUNMIL?". OH.... I decided to tell them the truth, no matter how unbelievable: "WELL... THE AWKWARD PART IS... I'VE NEVER MET HIM BEFORE, AND I NEVER GAVE HIM PERMISSION TO EXHIBIT MY PHOTOS".

I was horrified that my privacy had been so blatantly violated: "IT'S HONESTLY A LITTLE SCARY HOW HE TOOK THOSE PHOTOS OF ME 10 YEARS AGO... AND I'M STILL NOT SURE HOW TO RESPOND...". Baek was equally shocked: "OH. THEN HE DIDN'T HAVE PERMISSION TO TAKE THOSE PHOTOS? I HEARD THAT WAS HIS USUAL PROCESS, BUT...". She SLAMMED her hand down, declaring, "TAKING PHOTOS OF PEOPLE WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT IS A CRIME. IT'S UNACCEPTABLE!".

Yuhan Eun finally spoke, his voice cold and definitive: "HE'S ALSO DEAD NOW, SO YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO GET AN APOLOGY FROM HIM". SIGH... HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN...?.

Feeling lost, I asked, "DO YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE FOR ME?". Baek offered the legal option first: "HMM... YOU COULD GET THE PHOTOS TAKEN DOWN THROUGH A LAWSUIT. BUT I CAN'T GUARANTEE THAT THE RESULTS WILL ALWAYS BE GOOD...".

But then, she offered the real opportunity: "...BUT IF YOU THINK OF IT ANOTHER WAY... YOU COULD THINK OF IT AS AN OPPORTUNITY". "MUSE 明 IS ACTUALLY THE ACTRESS MYEONG YU. DOESN'T THAT SOUND NICE?". She pointed out, "YOU'RE GETTING MORE ATTENTION THAN EVER BEFORE" and that the photos themselves had a "KIND OF MAGICAL ALLURE".

Finally, before leaving, I asked one last question: "DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO EUNMIL? I HEARD HE WAS YOUNG.". I knew I had to make a decision, and Baek's parting words echoed her proposal: "THINK OF IT AS ACTING". She told me to "THEN THINK ABOUT IT, AND GIVE US A CALL", concluding, "IT WAS GREAT TO MEET YOU, MYEONG".

Now, the entire chaotic mess—the crime, the fame, the dead artist—was distilled into one simple, terrifying choice: a life of difficult legal truth, or a celebrated new life based on a powerful, marketable lie.

The Reluctant Light

I stood outside, the blue sky a jarring contrast to the tension inside me. Psh. I took a drag from my cigarette, staring at my phone. The screen screamed the headline: "HIS SECRET MUSE". I was "明"—Light—the woman who'd been never before been revealed. The world is buzzing. But the truth was, the more the world fusses over me... the more I realize how insignificant I've been.

Eunmil, the world-famous photographer who gave the world something to hope for in their daily lives and whose subjects appeared to lead romantic lives, had redefined me. His photos were always black and white, and he had a reputation: Eunmil never interacted with his subjects directly. He would take photos of random people in public and ask for their permission after to display their photos for exhibitions. Though this method could have been met with criticism, the public embraced his work, and people hoped to be captured by Eunmil's camera.

I was the subject of his first color photo, and his last model... was none other than Myeong.

The Meeting and the Disclosure

I met the executives from Metaphor Entertainment at Tollys Coffee. Director Ilha Baek reached out with a confident hand. "IT'S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, MYEONG. I'M DIRECTOR ILHA BAEK OF METAPHOR ENTERTAINMENT". I managed a bow and sat down: "...YES... HELLO. I'M MYEONG YU".

Baek was immediately effusive. "TO MEET SOMEONE AS FAMOUS AS YOU IN PERSON... IT'S AN HONOR". I could only whisper, "F-FAMOUS? THANK YOU". She smiled, adding, "I'M SURE YOU'LL GROW TO BE EVEN MORE IMPRESSIVE".

Next to her sat Yuhan Eun, the manager. His cold, unwavering STARE made me nervous. WHY IS HE STARING AT ME?

Baek pressed for answers. She recognized me from my past—"I WONDER WHY PEOPLE DON'T RECOGNIZE YOU? I COULD TELL RIGHT AWAY"—because I made an impression on her in that movie... VERTIGO. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU REMEMBERED THAT SMALL ROLE I PLAYED. THANK YOU".

But the big question remained. "BUT... HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT I WAS 明? I DIDN'T THINK ANYONE KNEW". After a CLACK, she asked directly, "I'M SO CURIOUS... WHAT WAS YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO EUNMIL?".

OH... I inhaled deeply. "WELL..." "THE AWKWARD PART IS... I'VE NEVER MET HIM BEFORE, AND I NEVER GAVE HIM PERMISSION TO EXHIBIT MY PHOTOS". "IT'S HONESTLY A LITTLE SCARY HOW HE TOOK THOSE PHOTOS OF ME 10 YEARS AGO... AND I'M STILL NOT SURE HOW TO RESPOND...".

Baek was shocked: "OH. THEN HE DIDN'T HAVE PERMISSION TO TAKE THOSE PHOTOS? I HEARD THAT WAS HIS USUAL PROCESS, BUT...". She became furious, slamming the table: "TAKING PHOTOS OF PEOPLE WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT IS A CRIME. IT'S UNACCEPTABLE!".

Then, I asked, "DO YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE FOR ME?".

Baek laid out the choice: "HMM... YOU COULD GET THE PHOTOS TAKEN DOWN THROUGH A LAWSUIT. BUT I CAN'T GUARANTEE THAT THE RESULTS WILL ALWAYS BE GOOD...". Eun added the final, terrible detail: "HE'S ALSO DEAD NOW, SO YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO GET AN APOLOGY FROM HIM". SIGH... HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN...?.

The Act and the Lie

Just as I felt defeated, Baek offered the escape. "...BUT IF YOU THINK OF IT ANOTHER WAY... YOU COULD THINK OF IT AS AN OPPORTUNITY". "MUSE 明 IS ACTUALLY THE ACTRESS MYEONG YU. DOESN'T THAT SOUND NICE?"

She pointed out, "YOU'RE GETTING MORE ATTENTION THAN EVER BEFORE". The photos themselves had a "KIND OF MAGICAL ALLURE TO THEM". She urged me to claim the images as part of my history, suggesting that if I say I acted as a muse, it'll cover your private life too. It was a perfect, marketable lie—a way to preserve the naivete captured in that moment before Myeong Yu became an actor.

I was faced with the ultimate decision: "DO YOU WANT TO TAKE THE PHOTOS DOWN, PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED AND LIVE AS YOU ARE NOW... OR DO YOU WANT TO BE A CELEBRATED ARTIST'S MUSE AND BECOME A STAR?"

I knew the price of denial: "...I DON'T KNOW...". If I told the truth, it would be difficult: "BECAUSE THEN I'D BE LYING". Baek just told me to "THINK OF IT AS ACTING".

Finally, I asked my last question: "DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO EUNMIL? I HEARD HE WAS YOUNG.". Eun delivered the final, chilling fact: "AN EARLY DEATH... USUALLY MEANS ONE THING". "HE TOOK HIS OWN LIFE". (Although the media reported: WORLD-FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHER EUNMIL FOUND DEAD IN HOME... as a result of a heart attack).

The meeting ended with Baek telling me, "THEN THINK ABOUT IT, AND GIVE US A CALL", and "IT WAS GREAT TO MEET YOU, MYEONG".

I was left alone with the knowledge: IT'S YOUR CHOICE. I had been given a devastating, non-consensual gift of fame. I could be the woman who destroyed a legacy, or the one who built a new life upon it. I would become the star he had unknowingly created.

The Reluctant Muse

I stood there, the cigarette smoke curling against the blue sky. Psh. My face was on the phone screen under the banner, "HIS SECRET MUSE". My existence had been fractured by Eunmil, the legendary photographer. He was a master of his craft, and because of this, the public embraced his work. His street photography gave the world something to hope for in their daily lives, making his subjects appear to lead romantic lives.

Eunmil had a strange, intrusive method: He took photos of random people in public and only asked for their permission after to display their photos for exhibitions. Though this method could have been met with criticism, they hoped to be captured by Eunmil's camera. I was the anomaly: the subject of his first color photo, and his last model... was none other than Myeong. Now I was known as Eunmil's Muse '明' (Light), the woman who's never before been revealed. The world is buzzing, but the more the world fusses over me... the more I realize how insignificant I've been.

The Confrontation

I met Director Ilha Baek of Metaphor Entertainment and Manager Yuhan Eun at Tollys Coffee. Baek extended her hand in a confident REACH. After a slight bow, I introduced myself: "...YES... HELLO. I'M MYEONG YU".

Baek was overly flattering. "TO MEET SOMEONE AS FAMOUS AS YOU IN PERSON... IT'S AN HONOR". I stammered, "F-FAMOUS? THANK YOU". She promised, "I'M SURE YOU'LL GROW TO BE EVEN MORE IMPRESSIVE". I was unnerved by Eun's STARE, wondering, WHY IS HE STARING AT ME?

She revealed she knew my past: "I WONDER WHY PEOPLE DON'T RECOGNIZE YOU? I COULD TELL RIGHT AWAY". She remembered my small role in Vertigo: "YOU MADE AN IMPRESSION ON ME IN THAT MOVIE YOU WERE IN...". "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU REMEMBERED THAT SMALL ROLE I PLAYED. THANK YOU".

But the real mystery remained: "BUT... HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT I WAS 明? I DIDN'T THINK ANYONE KNEW". After a CLACK, she asked, "I'M SO CURIOUS... WHAT WAS YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO EUNMIL?".

OH... WELL... I confessed the truth: "THE AWKWARD PART IS... I'VE NEVER MET HIM BEFORE, AND I NEVER GAVE HIM PERMISSION TO EXHIBIT MY PHOTOS". "IT'S HONESTLY A LITTLE SCARY HOW HE TOOK THOSE PHOTOS OF ME 10 YEARS AGO... AND I'M STILL NOT SURE HOW TO RESPOND...".

Baek was shocked that he hadn't followed his usual process and slammed the table, declaring, "TAKING PHOTOS OF PEOPLE WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT IS A CRIME. IT'S UNACCEPTABLE!". Eun added the cold dose of reality: "HE'S ALSO DEAD NOW, SO YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO GET AN APOLOGY FROM HIM". SIGH... HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN...?

The Opportunity and the Decision

I asked, "DO YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE FOR ME?". Baek explained I could sue to get the photos taken down, but warned, "I CAN'T GUARANTEE THAT THE RESULTS WILL ALWAYS BE GOOD...".

She then shifted. "...BUT IF YOU THINK OF IT ANOTHER WAY... YOU COULD THINK OF IT AS AN OPPORTUNITY". "MUSE 明 IS ACTUALLY THE ACTRESS MYEONG YU. DOESN'T THAT SOUND NICE?". She insisted, "YOU'RE GETTING MORE ATTENTION THAN EVER BEFORE", and the photos held a "KIND OF MAGICAL ALLURE". She offered a way to control the narrative: "If you say you acted as a muse, it'll cover your private life too", turning the pictures into a part of your history, preserving the naivete that you can never return to.

The stark choice was laid before me: "DO YOU WANT TO TAKE THE PHOTOS DOWN, PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED AND LIVE AS YOU ARE NOW... OR DO YOU WANT TO BE A CELEBRATED ARTIST'S MUSE AND BECOME A STAR?".

I was torn. I whispered, "...I DON'T KNOW...". I knew the lie felt uncomfortable. But if I denied being his muse, I'd be lying to myself about the opportunity. Baek urged, "THINK OF IT AS ACTING".

Before they left, I had to ask: "DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO EUNMIL? I HEARD HE WAS YOUNG". The answer from Eun was simple, quiet horror: "HE TOOK HIS OWN LIFE". (Though the media tried to cover it up, claiming he was found dead... as a result of a heart attack).

Three days later, I was still wrestling with the decision. Honestly, it sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity... becoming an artist's muse. But that lingering discomfort was stopping me. ARGH! I JUST DON'T KNOW!

Yet, the Director's final words echoed in my mind: "IT WON'T BE A DIFFICULT DECISION". I knew she was right. It was terrifying, overwhelming, and morally ambiguous, but IT'S YOUR CHOICE. And I was going to choose the spotlight.

"Becoming an artist's muse" was a phrase that kept looping in my mind.

It had been three days since my meeting with Metaphor Entertainment, and I was still wrestling with the decision. This is different from what I heard, I thought, taking a sip from the green can in my hand. Honestly, the offer sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A part of me was incredibly excited by the prospect of such an unusual path.

But the other part... ...but something about it felt uncomfortable, which stopped me from making a decision.

"ARGH! I just don't know!" I yelled, tossing my head back dramatically as I slumped on the chair, feeling the frustration bubble up. Why'd he have to take a stranger's photo?!

I hadn't heard from my boyfriend yet. Even though he was acting coldly, seeing how I still missed him... "When's he coming back...? Humph..." I held up my phone, staring at a picture of us together, a fond moment captured on the screen.

...Maybe I'll ask Hyunjae what he thinks when he's back.

I hadn't heard from my boyfriend yet, and the silence was grating on my nerves. I tossed my head back in frustration, letting out a loud SHOUT. "WHY'D HE HAVE TO TAKE A STRANGER'S PHOTO?!"

I was suspended between my anger and my longing. Even though he was acting coldly, seeing as how I still missed him... I pouted, feeling a sudden wave of affection as I looked at the picture on my phone—the two of us, close and smiling. ...I realized that I must still love my boyfriend.

"When's he coming back...? Humph..." I wondered, holding up the phone to gaze at the photo of Hyunjae kissing my cheek. Just looking at our picture gave me a sense of certainty. I got the feeling that everything would work out.

"...Maybe I'll ask Hyunjae what he thinks when he's back."

Just as the thought crossed my mind, my phone vibrated loudly. BZZZT

"AAH!" It was a call from him. Hyunjae was calling.

I picked up the call, taking a moment to calm my nerves. PHEW.

"...Hey, Hyunjae," I said, trying to keep my voice casual.

There was a slight pause before he spoke. "How have you been...? I know it took me a while to call you. Sorry..." he said. I could picture him standing outside, his shoulders hunched slightly as he spoke into his phone.

"It's fine..." I replied quickly, then asked the question that had been on my mind for days, "...When are you coming back?"

"I think I'll be back tomorrow," he answered.

"Okay..." I murmured.

We both fell into a small, awkward silence. I waited, wondering if he would say anything else, feeling a rush of warmth seeing his worried expression on the split panel.

Then, the silence broke with a sudden, soft admission from him. "...I miss you."

My eyes widened in surprise, a blush creeping across my cheeks as the world around me seemed to sparkle. "Huh...?" I hadn't expected to hear those words.

My face was burning, and I could barely hold back a smile. I rubbed my cheek shyly as I heard his voice again.

"What about you, Myeong? Do you miss me?" Hyunjae asked.

I swallowed, the words catching in my throat before I managed to reply. "...Me too."

I could almost see his slight smirk through the phone. "I'll come back early tomorrow. Let's get something good to eat," he promised. "I'll come back early tomorrow."

The thought of seeing him filled me with a joyful warmth.

"Good night," he said.

"You too... Good night," I replied.

A final, tender thought rushed out just as he was about to hang up. "I love—"

Suddenly, an unfamiliar woman's voice cut him off, a loud WHOOSH of noise coming through the line. "OH, THERE YOU ARE, ASSISTANT DIRECTOR!"

"Huh? What?" Hyunjae sounded flustered. I heard the distinct CLICK of his phone ending the call.

A few moments later, my own face tightened as a question formed in my mind. "Was that Yena just now?"

Damn it, we were having a moment... I clenched my phone, a small thunder mark appearing on my forehead.

Hyunjae's Unwanted Company

On the street outside, Hyunjae looked visibly startled as the woman, Yena, approached.

"Assistant Director Woo, can we get a drink together tomorrow?" she asked immediately.

Hyunjae looked completely confused. "W-what? Why would I do that?"

Yena's face softened into a disappointed "Aw..." as she sighed. "Sigh... I think I'm going through a slump..."

Hyunjae took a drag from the cigarette he was holding. "What are you talking about? You're doing great."

"I almost fell over from a panic attack today on set..." she confessed, looking dejected. "Even for me, these monologue scenes are hard..."

"But you still have a lot of experience. Can't you give me some advice?" Yena pressed, moving closer to him. "You know you're the only person I can turn to."

Hyunjae avoided her gaze. "You and Myeong have done lots of short films together."

"...Those were just early films for practice," he mumbled. He looked uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, but Yena was clearly not ready to back down.

Hyunjae had been trying to brush off the actress, Yena, but she was persistent. Her eyes were getting teary as she pleaded with him. "You know you're the only person I can turn to around here."

Hyunjae hesitated, looking at her with a conflicted expression. She pressed him, her voice sounding desperate. "Please?"

He let out a defeated SIGH, running a hand across his head. "...I only have until 7 PM," he conceded, giving in to her request for a drink.

Yena's face lit up in a huge, relieved SMILE. "Of course. I have to get back early tomorrow. We can have fun chatting until then," she said brightly.

The Next Day

The following evening, Hyunjae and Yena sat across from each other at a dimly lit table. A drink with ice sat in front of him, and Yena had a margarita-style cocktail. Next to their glasses was a small plate with crackers and celery sticks.

Yena took a tentative sip of her drink. "I've only ever drank soju before, but..." she trailed off, looking at the colorful glass in front of her.

It seemed that while I was at home, fretting about the offer to become an artist's muse—an offer that honestly sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity but held an uncomfortable edge, making me shout, "ARGH! I JUST DON'T KNOW!"—Hyunjae was out with the one person I didn't want him spending time with. Despite missing him, I knew this situation with Yena would only make things more complicated for us.

What do you think is going to happen when I finally talk to Hyunjae about the muse offer?

Yena shows is an old, flattering photo of Myeong from when she was younger, possibly during her freshman year. Yena comments on how "beautiful" Myeong was back then.When Hyunjae points out that this must be when Yena "started liking" Myeong, Yena admits she "admired her from afar." This speaks to Yena's deep-seated complexity—she is jealous of Myeong but also, at one point, genuinely looked up to her.The fact that a photo of Myeong from a past exhibition is generating buzz highlights the continuous presence and influence of Myeong in the lives of both Yena and Hyunjae, who are often shown to be wrapped up in their shared history with her.

Yena: WOW, YOU'RE SUCH A SENSITIVE, PURE-HEARTED MAN.

Hyunjae: HAHA... (He blushes slightly, taking a sip of his drink.)

Hyunjae: WHEN DID SHE TAKE PHOTOS LIKE THAT...? (He is still thinking about the old, beautiful photo of Myeong.)

(Yena stops smiling and gives Hyunjae a subtle, lingering look.)

Yena: ... (Glance)(Yena quickly raises her glass and takes a big, nervous gulp of her drink.) GLUG GLUG"

(She firmly sets the glass down on the table.)

SFX: CLINK

(Hyunjae looks up, his eyes widening slightly, noticing her intensity.)

Yena: ...BUT... (She leans in a little, her cheeks slightly flushed.)

(They are close now, looking intently at each other. Yena is speaking, but the bubble points to the area between them, indicating the gravity of the question.)

Yena: ...WHAT ABOUT NOW?

(They pull back slightly, Yena waits for a response. The question is clearly directed at Hyunjae.)

Yena: DO YOU...

Panel 9 (1000053465.jpg):

Yena: ...STILL FEEL THE SAME ABOUT HER AS YOU DID BACK THEN?

Chapter 4 - 3.turning point