Page 2 of Wish Upon a K-Star

G rowing up, I hated when people lied.

Whether it was my brother laying the blame for a broken glass on me, or Mom telling our halmeoni we couldn’t visit for the holidays because I had a nonexistent school event, or even a total stranger claiming they were ahead of you in line for the register. It always bothered me when others lied.

Which is why I probably shouldn’t have debuted as an idol.

All we’re taught is how to lie.

Lie that we’re perfect role models who only know training and practice rooms.

Lie that we are naturally beautiful even when half of us have gotten some kind of procedure.

Lie that we all like one another, when I know many of the idols I debuted with hate each other’s guts.

Everyone lies in this industry.

And even with all the rampant lies, people will still believe anything.

Which is why I’m in handroll mode, blanket tight around me.

The problem with the most recent gossip article about me is that it’s not 100 percent lies. Which is how they get you. They tell a few known truths peppered in with the gossip and the rumors. And people assume, since they know one to be true, they all must be.

Yes, I am the unfortunate owner of the nickname “scandal princess.” And it did all stem from my time on Citizen Producer . But I definitely did not text a boy from Kim Ana’s phone when we were trainees. And I worked my ass off and earned my way into Helloglow fair and square.

But the worst things are the half-truths. The things that look bad because they don’t have the full story. And I can never tell it, not now. Because I’ll be accused of making it up to save face, even if all I tell is the truth. Finally.

I roll over to shove my face into my pillow and let out a strangled scream. Instead of releasing the tension it just brings my tears closer to the surface. So, I keep my face pressed tightly to the pillow to catch them so they don’t fall on my face and make it all puffy. I still have an appearance today.

I hear the beep of the door lock a second before Min Sohee’s singsong voice calls out. “Eonniii! Where are youuu?”

I don’t reply. I know she’ll find me anyway.

The trainee dorms are empty right now except for Sohee and me. And soon she will be gone too.

After Helloglow disbanded last year, Sohee and I moved back into Bright Star’s trainee dorms. We commiserated over our time in the group, both good and bad. Well, Sohee had most of the good stuff and I had most of the bad. But we went through it together, and that’s what counts. She’s never asked me if any of the rumors or gossip are true.

Now Sohee is about to re-debut in Bright Star Entertainment’s first girl group, Kastor. And they’re starting to film their pre-debut show this week, so the company is making her move in with her members.

I’m not upset about it. Mostly.

It’s just that she’s my best…fine, only friend in the industry. Losing her is like losing my entire social life.

“Eonni!” Sohee calls again, her voice echoing down the long hallway.

It’s strange—when we first met, Sohee’s constant enthusiasm and positivity kind of annoyed me. And now, it’s what makes me love her so much. Except when I’m in the mood to metaphorically burn everything down. Like right now.

So, I’m hiding in my cocoon of depression. I’d stay here all day except I’m supposed to cohost HBS’s midsummer K-pop festival today. I wish I could just tell my manager I’m sick and can’t do it. But I know that won’t fly. I am expected to make my scheduled appearances unless I’m bleeding on the floor or I’m literally puking my guts out (and even that’s not always an accepted excuse).

And, now more than ever, I can’t afford to miss things. The message will be too obvious. That I’m bothered by the article. That the article must be true if I’m skipping appearances after its release.

The bedroom door opens, and I hear the shuffle of her house slippers move across the floor.

“I know you’re in there, Eonni.”

She pushes my privacy curtain aside. It’s strung across the bunk bed I call home. There are three bunks shoved into each of the two rooms in this apartment. This place was probably intended to house a young couple, maybe a new family like the one that lives across the hall. But Bright Star rents it out as a dorm for the trainees. And at capacity it can house twelve hopefuls with dreams of stardom.

When it was full, there were girls everywhere at all times. A bunk curtain was as good as a closed door, indicating the occupant wants to be left alone. Of course, Sohee doesn’t follow that rule when it comes to me.

She’s too used to my depression cycles.

“Eonni, come on.”

Sohee pulls on the covers. But my blanket handroll holds fast. I am an expert at it at this point, having made so many in the last two years.

“I have tteokbokki.”

My mouth waters at the mention of it.

“I’m not hungry,” I lie.

“Really?” I can feel her leaning forward and then the delicious spicy scent wafts through my blanket barrier.

My stomach grumbles loudly.

“Fine.” I fling the blanket off to reveal Sohee’s grinning face. I squint in defense against the bright room lights. Then I see the takeout bag and snatch it from her.

Without asking, Sohee reaches under my bed and pulls out the tray I keep there for secret bed eating. I didn’t eat in here when the dorm was more full—some girls were sensitive to food smells, so we usually ate in the kitchen or the tiled living room. But now that it’s just Sohee and me, we eat in our rooms sometimes when the situation warrants it. And wallowing in self-pity definitely warrants.

At 163 centimeters and with her sweet oval face and large doe eyes, Sohee is the epitome of adorable. And Bright Star has played into it with her new style, a shoulder-length bob with blunt ends and straight bangs.

Without even getting out of bed, I reach around the side into a small open shelf and pull out a crumpled bag of Honey Butter Chips. My favorite. There’s barely any left. I pour the last of the crushed crumbs over the steaming spicy rice cakes.

Sohee rolls her eyes affectionately. “I can’t believe you eat it that way.”

“I like the crunch.” I take a huge bite and close my eyes. It’s heaven. And a billion calories. But I don’t care. Because I’m depressed and I can’t show it during the broadcast today. So, I’ve earned bad-for-me snack food. I’ll eat five short tubules and that’s it, I promise myself.

I tune back in to hear Sohee say, “So I came right over after practice.”

“Oh?” I say vaguely, not quite sure what she was talking about.

“You spaced out again, didn’t you?” Sohee shakes her head, but there’s no malice in it.

It’s a bad habit of mine. When I have a lot on my mind, I tend to get lost in my thoughts. Even mid-conversation.

“Sorry.”

Sohee lifts a knowing brow. “You read the article, didn’t you?”

I ignore her and pluck up my second tube of rice cake, shoving it in my mouth. Hoping that it’ll discourage her from demanding an answer. Instead, she crosses her arms and waits.

Sometimes I hate how stubborn Sohee is. Most think she’s so sweet and bubbly and carefree. But I’ve never met someone more headstrong than Min Sohee. Once she has a goal in mind, nothing will stop her from achieving it. And if she wants something from you, she won’t stop pestering until you give in.

It’s why she’s successful, I’m sure of it.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go to the festival today. What if it just makes things worse after that article?”

“Eonni, you’re not supposed to read those things,” Sohee says, wagging her chopsticks at me.

“Isn’t the polite thing to pretend you didn’t read it either?” I ask through my third rice cake. Savoring it because I only have two more allotted.

I should have known that Sohee wouldn’t pretend, at least between us. Sohee is the kind of girl who faces things head-on. Probably because her sweet face makes everyone want to fawn over her. Didn’t hurt that as the maknae of Helloglow, she was babied by every member and manager. Even our fans.

“Maybe I should stay in the dorm another day,” she says with a pout.

Immediately, I feel guilty. I know she put off moving into her new dorm because she worried about me being alone. I’m the older one, I should be the one taking care of her. But it’s the other way around.

“Nah, I’m good.” I take a small bite of my fourth tteok.

“Are you sure? You’re not faking it, are you?” She jabs her chopsticks at me.

“Of course not.” I use my chopsticks to push hers down. “And be careful, what if you poke my eye out? Hongjoo-eonni will be angry at you for making me wear an eyepatch on live TV.”

“Hongjoo-eonni never gets mad at me,” Sohee says with a confident grin as she plucks up another tteokbokki.

“You know, you’re not the youngest of your new group,” I grumble. “You’re going to have to learn that you won’t always get your way.”

“No, I’m the leader,” Sohee says with a saucy wiggle of her brows. “So, I get unrestrained power!”

“Really?” For a moment, I forget my problems as Sohee’s excitement becomes infectious. “They officially announced?”

Sohee nods. “We filmed the reveal video today with the group! It’s going to go live on the Kastor channel next week.”

“Congratulations, Sohee-yah. You’re going to be great,” I say. And I mean it. I know that Sohee was really worried about the possibility of being chosen as leader; it’s a huge responsibility, but she also secretly wanted it. I could tell.

And she’s perfect for the role. Everyone listens to her. She never gets into fights. And she already has experience from being in Helloglow. Not that anyone asked me, but I would’ve told them to choose Sohee as leader, hands down.

Maybe I missed my calling behind the scenes. Maybe I should’ve become a manager or producer instead of an actress. Then I’d be less in the spotlight. And have less chances for the public to judge every move I make.

But I know if I stop pursuing a celebrity career, Mom will nag me about it for the rest of my life. Which will be severely shortened from being annoyed to death by Mom’s aforementioned nagging.

That’s why I debuted as an actress.

What sucks about it, though, is I kind of like it.

I can even see myself loving it someday. And that scares the ever-living snot out of me.

Because, if I let myself like it and then I lose it, it’ll be so much more painful. And every day, there are people who’d love to see me lose it all.

Part of me feels like I have to succeed if only to stick it to those people. And part of me feels like those people have way more energy and drive than I do and I’ll never overtake them.

Well, today certainly is another test. Who will come out on top?

Honestly, I have no idea.

Sohee indiscriminately shoves like five tteoks into her mouth. A warning almost falls from my lips. She’s about to debut, she’s probably on a diet. But I hold it in. We get criticism from enough places in our lives, she doesn’t need to hear that stuff from me too.

My phone buzzes with a text from my manager, Hongjoo.

“I gotta go.” I stare longingly at the half container left of tteokbokki. “Thanks for the pick-me-up, even if it’s going to add a kilogram to me on camera today.”

“You’re too skinny anyway,” Sohee says. “People won’t like that.”

“People never like anything about me,” I point out.

“Not true, they love you after your drama. Don’t let one article get you down, it doesn’t mean anything. It’ll all pass soon,” she says with a bright smile. I want to roll my eyes at her unwavering optimism, but I smile back at her instead.

On the elevator I can’t stop myself from reading the article again. I glare at the title. I hate that it’s trending. But of course it is.

At least my name isn’t in the headline. A small gift in this whole situation. But I still hate this article far more than most of the others. Even the ones that exclaim “Shin Hyeri Accused of Being a Bully!” in bold letters at the top.

And that’s because of what’s in the last paragraphs. A name that sticks out and mocks me.

Because what bothers me the most, somehow, is that they mentioned Moonster in the article. Of all the people to be flagged in my current humiliation cycle, it had to be my nemesis.