“Yeah, I believe in our Eun-jae.”
But that belief.
“Hello, I’m Kim Jae-ha, the leader of Team Strange and Beautiful Cooperation.”
“Hi there! I’m Seo Eun-jae from Team Strange and Beautiful Cooperation.”
It shattered into a thousand pieces.
The words echoed, sharp and final, like glass breaking underfoot.
“Brother, I’m nervous.”Han-gyeol, his makeup freshly done, leaned his head against my shoulder with a soft thud.
The staff member who’d styled his hair and makeup flinched, her eyes trembling as if she’d seen a ghost.
“Don’t mess up your hair. Sit up straight.”
“Oh, crap, you’re right!”
Hang-yeol jolted upright, inspecting his reflection in the mirror.
The staff member let out a relieved sigh, gave me a quick nod of thanks, and moved on to the next participant.
‘Haha, no problem.’
I mouthed the words with a silent chuckle, but the staff member froze mid-step, blinking rapidly as if she’d seen something bizarre before scurrying away.
‘Was my smile that weird?’
A pang of unease tightened my chest, but I pushed it down, thinking of the calming pill I’d take later.
Meanwhile, Hang-yeol bounced back to my side, his energy as restless as ever.
“I’m still not used to all this intense styling.”
“No surprise there.”
I’d survived the grind of idol life, so I could handle it.
“But you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”
This was the same guy who’d slipped to fourth place in the final rankings due to a mid-season slump.
Yet, he was destined to shine as a luxury supporting actor, dominating dramas, films, and variety shows.
At his peak, you couldn’t turn a corner without seeing Hang-yeol’s face.
He grinned at my words, childlike and bright, then squinted at me with a mischievous glint.
“What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”
“Dude, you look so cold and tough, like ice cracks with every breath you take.”
‘Is he picking a fight?’
“But when you really look, you’re actually kinda sweet.”
“Are you insane?”
The words slipped out before I could filter them.
Sweet?
Me?
That was the first time someone said sweet in my entire life.
“Do something about those rose-tinted glasses, man.”
Is this what fans do?
Spout embarrassing nonsense like this?
From what I’d seen online, not all of them were like that.
‘Don’t people these days call themselves “haters who love”?’
Hater-fans.
Supposedly fans, but in fandom circles, they’re barely acknowledged as such.
Sometimes I wondered if their harsh words could really come from people who claimed to care.
‘I’ve noticed it among Seo Eun-jae’s fans lately, too.’
Eun-jae’s fandom mantra was fierce: ‘Protect our baby at all costs, shower him with love.’
Sure, some sasaengs stirred up rumors and hurled insults, but they usually hid behind anonymous burner accounts.
Recently, though, I’d seen people on their main SNS accounts openly acting like hater-fans.
‘Does Eun-jae even know about this?’
My gaze drifted to him, mid-hair styling.
Those round, innocent eyes seemed to whisper, ‘I don’t know anything.’
‘Come to think of it, I don’t know much about this side of him.’
I knew the two years of Eun-jae as a trainee, but the seven years of Eun-jae at Dreamer Center?
A blank.
I could recite his activities and awards, but how much did he monitor?
What did he think of his fans?
That was a mystery.
‘He’ll figure it out.’
No need to ask.
I shook off the pointless curiosity and stretched my stiff limbs.
“Team A, get ready to enter!”
The call I’d been waiting for rang out.
Like clockwork, 27 minutes after the screening began, I excused myself to the staff and headed to the bathroom.
In the stall, I popped a calming pill, feeling my racing heart settle as the familiar calm washed over me.
Stepping out, I saw Kwon Ha-bin washing his hands.
I flinched for a moment but played it cool, washing my hands and leaving without a word.
He didn’t say anything either.
‘Why am I so on edge?’
There’d been a weird moment with him before, but he hadn’t openly provoked me like he did in my past life.
No need to make a fuss.
“Brother, you’re back?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Eun-jae greeted me, then pushed me to the front of the line.
“Huh?”
“You’re the leader, aren’t you?”
“Oh… right.”
That damn leader role.
Never again for the next evaluation.
From beyond the door, the assistant MC’s voice introduced our team.
Maybe it was because I was on the same team as Eun-jae, but even with the calming pill, my neck stiffened with nerves.
‘I wonder how Eun-jae’s fans will react.’
And yet, a flicker of anticipation stirred.
‘Is she here today?’
The woman holding the “Support Kim Jae-ha” placard.
“Opening the doors now!” The staff’s voice cut through, and the heavy black doors swung open.
Blinding lights stabbed my eyes, and a deafening roar of cheers left my ears ringing.
‘What if they boo me for coming out first?’
The thought, now a reflex, crept in.
But this time, I didn’t linger like I had at the last stage greeting.
I forced my legs to move, shaking off the shadow that clung to my ankles.
“Hello, I’m Kim Jae-ha, the leader of Team Strange and Beautiful Cooperation.”
The cheers swelled.
I lifted my head to the audience, and my eyes found her immediately.
A placard hung around her neck, a camera in her hands.
She looked up from her lens, met my gaze, and smiled.
‘This isn’t a dream or a delusion.’
The realization hit me fully.
I was someone who could make people smile now.
Even if it was just one person.
“Jae-ha! Jae-ha, look over here!”
“Jae-ha dear, I love you!”
“Kim Jae-ha! Let’s take first place!”
No, not just one.
Far more people were watching me, cheering for me, calling my name.
If this moment wasn’t a miracle, what else could it be?
***
The office worker thought slipping into the movie theater was a brilliant idea.
The wait was longer than expected, and a lingering hangover gnawed at her.
If the first film hadn’t been that film—if Team A didn’t include that person—she might’ve caught up on some sleep.
The massive screen filled with an office scene.
Amid the bustle, a man strode forward from the far end.
Tall, broad-shouldered, his fitted suit hugging a perfectly proportioned frame.
His walk carried a hint of swagger, but his face—oh, that face—transformed it into effortless charisma.
The moment she saw him, her hangover vanished, and sleep fled.
It was as if she’d downed a shot of caffeine, her senses razor-sharp.
His sharp, slanted eyes, slightly upturned, held a clarity that pierced through.
Thick double eyelids framed them, giving him a striking presence.
His dark irises sparkled, pure and unclouded.
His T-zone was sharper than her last salary negotiation, and his straight, centered nose anchored his face with refined elegance.
The finishing touch: a chiseled jawline, smooth and precise, like it was carved with a sculptor’s care.
‘He’s gorgeous! But he looks like trouble! If I brought him home as a suitor, my parents would try to kick him out, only to let him in after coughing awkwardly at his beauty!’
Without thinking, she nudged her friend, a dedicated fan, sitting beside her.
In a hushed whisper, she asked, “Who’s that guy?”
Her friend didn’t answer right away, just gave her a knowing look before saying, “Kim Jae-ha.”
‘Kim Jae-ha? That’s Kim Jae-ha?!’
She couldn’t believe it.
In her vague memory, Kim Jae-ha was defined by four words: ‘attitude controversy.’
And yet, he looked like that?
“What, you’re a fan now?”
“No way!”
She denied it quickly, mentally chanting to herself: ‘Get a grip. He’s just a pretty face. Looks aren’t everything.’
A face like that was a gift, sure, but you couldn’t live off looks alone.
Idol or actor, what mattered was talent.
‘ “Haha, let’s just split up after this job. You… go back to being a prosecutor or something. It suits your annoying vibe.” ‘
Nope, his acting was above average too.
She tried to stay objective, wondering if it was his face or the character carrying him.
But when all the short films ended, and Kim Jae-ha stepped out as the first for the stage greeting, her brain short-circuited.
“What’s with his eyes?”
“Right? I didn’t even expect that.”
She’d thought the sparkle in his eyes on screen was editing, that in person they’d be dull.
But no—Kim Jae-ha’s gaze was dewy, alive, fixed on the audience with an intensity that stole her breath.
“You didn’t know? You were here for the first round too!”
“Yeah, but he wasn’t on Eun-jae’s team then, so I slept through it.”
“Are you serious? How do you sleep through that face?”
The office worker, now scolded her fan friend, refocused on Jae-ha.
He stood there, almost entranced, unable to tear his eyes from the audience.
Then, with a smile that looked like it might break into tears, he softened.
She couldn’t help herself.
“Don’t cry, Kim Jae-ha!” she shouted, her voice booming with the trained power of her younger days.
Her friend, Eun-jae’s devoted fan, shook her head in defeat.
‘She’s gone. She’s fallen for him.’
Kim Jae-ha… now that she saw him like this, he didn’t seem so bad.
She finally understood why the first stage greeting reviews were flooded with his name.
‘So, those rumors were all lies?’
They had to be.
Watching Eun-jae’s face as he looked at Jae-ha, it was clear.
The “Grateful Brother” he’d mentioned endlessly in interviews was Kim Jae-ha.
‘No, wait. Our Eun-jae’s got a sharp eye for people.’
Most saw Seo Eun-jae as kind and gentle, but true fans knew better.
Early in his career, he’d been naive, easily swayed.
But at some point, he’d learned to draw lines with those who didn’t deserve his trust.
‘He’s been looking so down lately, colder than usual. I was worried.’
It must’ve been the Dreamer disbandment talks.
She hated admitting it, but Eun-jae had cared about those awful members.
Yet now, his face was lighter.
Happier, even, than at the first stage greeting.
‘I’m voting for Kim Jae-ha in the online poll.’
For our Eun-jae, what wouldn’t she do?
Smiling warmly, the fan snapped photos rapidly, then froze.
She grabbed her friend’s shoulder and hissed, “You came to shoot Eun-jae today. Shoot Eun-jae. Or you’re paying me back for drinks. I have the receipt.”
“Fine, fine, just shut up so I can hear Jae-ha’s voice.”
Of course, the office worker had no intention of listening.
Like all fans, she’d pick her favorite even with her eyes closed.
It was inevitable.
***
I didn’t cry.
Really.
I got a little choked up, but the moment I sensed Eun-jae studying my face, the tears vanished.
Even in the chaos, Eun-jae meticulously tended to his fans, granting their requests with that bright, beaming smile.
As I watched his brown eyes catch the light, sparkling like they held the sun, I realized something.
He smiled less now, more reserved than the reckless, hopeful kid I’d known back then.