Page 6 of Wish Upon a K-Star

I t’s strange being back at a concert venue.

I haven’t been to one since Helloglow disbanded.

Before then, I practically lived on stages. It was a whirlwind of broadcast stations, college festivals, music shows, and arenas. I’d experienced almost everything you could as an idol in just one short year.

I know it’s something I should be grateful for.

No, I am grateful for it. But that gratitude is overlaid with a vibrating anxiety every time I think of that part of my life.

My hair is yanked and I hide a flinch as my roots protest.

“Sorry,” the assistant stylist mutters. He’s young, barely older than me. He’s new and clearly nervous. Which wouldn’t usually bother me, except he keeps sneaking timid peeks at my face in the mirror. I can recognize those curious looks by now. He’s probably waiting to see if I yell at the hair and makeup team, or throw a tantrum about the temperature of my coffee. Because of course someone with my reputation would be a total nightmare to work with.

As if to prove him wrong, I don’t even move as he keeps pulling at my hair.

But when he tries to pin some of it back, he jabs me in the ear.

This time I can’t hide the wince of pain and I notice his slight frown. Like he’s already telling himself that’s proof that I’m difficult. Darn it.

“Jeongho, stop before you take out her eye.” David Reyes, the head stylist, comes over, curler in hand. He’s tall with tan skin and a full, well-groomed beard. He moved to Korea over a decade ago.

His more skilled hands take over and I relax a bit. Other than Hongjoo, he’s known me the longest, ever since he was assigned to do my hair for the first evaluation performance on CiPro . When I first debuted, he’d teach me Spanish and I’d help him with his Korean, though sometimes I think he speaks better Korean than I do.

He’s my favorite stylist, even if he’s always yelling at me when I neglect my hair.

As if on cue, David frowns. “Hyeri, honey. Are you using the serum I gave you?”

“I keep forgetting,” I admit, and he gives me a disappointed look in the mirror. “I’ll use it, I swear.”

“Hmm.” He shakes some of his own serum into his palms and warms it before running it through my hair.

I pull out my phone, knowing styling can sometimes take a while. And when I open SNS, a post about the article is the first on my feed. I shouldn’t, but I expand the comments.

Bullies should go to jail.

Why protect the identity of a bully? We KNOW Celebrity A is Shin Hyeri!

Can’t wait for her agency to deny all allegations and continue to protect a bully!

Shin Hyeri is shameless for continuing to promote when she used to be such a bully.

Shin Hyeri = yeombyeong idol!

Shin Hyeri should be sent to hell to burn for her sins against an angel like Kim Ana!

That last one sends a chill down my spine. I’m used to angry commenters, and this one is from a handle I recognize, HyeriTopAnti.

They regularly comment on articles about my scandals. I know Hongjoo is going to yell at me when I tell her I was reading the comments, but I flag it to show to my manager. There is a file for them now, another sad reality of my life. Will this happen the rest of my career? Having to collect the worst of the worst to make sure they don’t actually follow through with their promises? I shiver just thinking of it.

The movement pulls on my hair, still in David’s hands.

“If you don’t sit still, I might accidentally give you a mullet,” he warns.

“Sorry,” I mutter, staring at the phone.

“Sweetie, you’re not reading forbidden things, are you?”

“Not anymore,” I promise, lowering the phone to my lap.

I finally look up and his eyes capture mine in the mirror. Soft and understanding. He’s been around for the worst of it. I’ve cried too many times to count while he’s cut or dyed my hair.

“You shouldn’t do anything to mess with your own head before a broadcast,” David says in a knowing voice.

He’s right. I’m on edge as it is. Being back at one of the big arenas makes me remember my year in Helloglow and how I’d get horrible stomachaches before performances. As it is, I’m regretting the tteokbokki with Sohee before coming here. It’s rolling around in my stomach right now.

It doesn’t help that every time the door opens, I jump in anticipation of a camera. Hongjoo told me there’s a behind-the-scenes crew coming by today.

But instead of cameras it’s Hongjoo. She’s short, probably only 155 centimeters. She has a sweet round face and always wears her hair back in a ponytail. She looks like she could be a kindergarten teacher. But she’s fierce. I’ve seen her put men two times her size in their place.

She hurries in, a tray of coffee drinks sloshing in her hands. Even as she jumps over a fallen paper takeout bag, she doesn’t spill them. Hongjoo would never let coffee spill.

“David,” Hongjoo says, handing him a latte.

He grins and gives her a smacking kiss on the lips in thanks. “When can we finally register our marriage, Hongjoo-yah?”

She rolls her eyes. “If you were interested in women, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“Oh, what could have been,” David muses, then winks at me in the mirror. I can’t help smiling. Hongjoo and David love to pretend to flirt to pass the time.

Hongjoo hands me my iced Americano before pulling out a vanilla latte for herself. I can practically see the calories swimming in it, and it makes my mouth water.

You had your cheat snack , I remind myself. One that would give Hongjoo a heart attack if she heard about it.

To slightly appease myself, I take a sip of my Americano. No sugar added. The bitter drink does the opposite of what I hoped.

“And then sound check in thirty, okay?” Hongjoo is saying.

Shoot, I did it again. Got lost in my own meandering thoughts. I chirp out a quick reply. “Okay.”

“Hyeri, you have to pay attention.” Hongjoo knows me too well for me to hide anything from her.

“Sorry, Eonni.”

She shakes her head before continuing to read off the schedule. “After sound check you can come back here and finish your hair and makeup. Did you tell them what you wanted to order for lunch?”

“Salad with a side of salad,” I say obediently. If Hongjoo hears the sarcasm in my voice, she doesn’t react to it. She’s too used to my moods by now.

I’m lucky that Bright Star let Hongjoo remain as my manager when I moved from the idol division to the actor division in the company. Sometimes I worry she regrets agreeing to continue working with me. She’s always having to put out fires as my manager.

I close my eyes, taking eight deep breaths. Something I learned from the dance instructor at Bright Star. With each successive breath I relax a different region of my body: hands, feet, arms, legs, shoulders, neck, stomach. By the end of the exercise, I feel looser, if not better.

“Done for now,” David declares. My long hair is in careless waves. It still has pins holding my fringe in place, but I know those will stay in until right before I go out onstage. “I’ll be back before the show for final touch-ups.”

“Thanks, David-oppa.”

“Anything for my favorite. But don’t tell anyone I said that.” He winks at me in the mirror before gesturing for Jeongho to follow. The assistant scurries after David, carrying a bulky bag of styling equipment. The bag bumps against my seat.

My Americano wobbles and I grip it tighter, causing it to spill over onto my sweatpants.

“Sorry!” Jeongho lowers into a deep bow.

I give him a smile. “It’s okay, these sweats are old.”

He bows again as David calls impatiently from the hallway. Jeongho looks back and forth between the spill and the closing door.

“You should go,” I say, adding a kind smile. “I can take care of this.”

“Yes, sorry, okay, thank you.” He scurries out.

I lean back in my chair with a sigh.

This should be a lesson , I tell myself. Not every person is out to get you, Shin Hyeri. Sometimes they’re just going through their own stuff.

“How long until sound check?” I ask Hongjoo.

“Twenty-five. Nope, twenty-three minutes,” she says without even looking up from her phone.

I wonder if that’s enough time for a short nap. It usually takes me a while to actually fall asleep; I’ll probably have to wake up as soon as I do.

“Oh hey, also, I saw your brother—” Hongjoo is cut off by a knock on the door. When she opens it, I hear her say, “Speak of the devil.”

Hyejun saunters in, only wearing ripped jeans and a graphic tee, but I know the outfit probably costs more than my phone. AX1S is the kind of group that gets their casual-wear sent to them by high-end brands. They sell out things almost as quickly as WDB whenever they wear them.

He’s tall and muscular but not bulky. His hair is shaved close on the sides but longer on top right now.

We have similar facial features, an oval face with a pointed chin. A taller nose bridge that all the other trainees used to tell me I was lucky to have. Hyejun’s lips are fuller than mine, but we have the same shape with a pronounced Cupid’s bow. And we both have a single freckle right under our right eye.

He comfortably greets the staff, always easygoing with anyone.

A rush of contradicting emotions fills me at the sight of him. Relief that it’s not the camera crew yet. Annoyance because I know he’s probably here to bother me. And an awkward tension, because he’s my brother, but we’re not like normal siblings. Our parents let him leave home when I was twelve. And even when I followed him to Seoul almost two years later, we were separated because we were in different companies. Hyejun was scouted by HQ Entertainment and I entered Bright Star.

Whenever Hyejun did come around BSE, he never really hung out with me. He was always there to see Jongdae and Minseok. He’d already made his friends and he didn’t want his little sister shadowing him everywhere. But he was the only person I knew in Seoul.

“What’s up, Riri?” he asks, using my childhood nickname. One he knows annoys me.

I sneer at him. “What do you want?”

“Just checking in with you. Eomma gave me an earful to keep an eye on you today.” He lifts his hand to ruffle my hair, but a stern look from Hongjoo stops him.

I’m not surprised our mother called Hyejun instead of me. Just call the perfect son to rein in the problem child.

But I’m also a little relieved. My calls with Mom always leave me feeling inadequate. My mom likes to give me her notes on all the things I’m doing wrong. Her favorite is to tell me that I should be more personable like Hyejun. That people have an instant dislike for me because I’m so standoffish. It doesn’t work to tell her it’s because I still feel stiff and awkward in interviews. She’ll just tell me that’s not an excuse from a girl who was part of such a successful idol group.

“Hey, Hyeri-yah, did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

He rolls his eyes as he perches on the couch and opens one of the bags of Honey Butter Chips.

“Oppa, you know those are my favorite!” I complain. I’d been hoping to hoard them away for my stash after I was done with promotions and off diet.

“You want?” He holds the bag out to me, and I stare longingly at the delicious chips inside. But guilt over my morning snack still weighs on me both figuratively and literally. He shakes the bag encouragingly, but there’s a smirk on his face. He’s teasing me because he knows I’m on a diet.

“You need to be careful today.” Hyejun shovels up another mouthful of chips. “People are going to be all over your performance after that ridiculous article.”

“If you agree it’s ridiculous, then why should I care about it?” I mutter.

He gives me a look that speaks volumes. It says, “You should know the answer to that.” Because anything that could affect my reputation in this industry weighs much heavier since I’m already mired in controversy. I walk a thin line always.

“You know, Eomma sounded upset on the phone. She gets really worried about us. It took a lot for her to let us come here alone.”

Now I want to lift a disbelieving brow. Because Hyejun and I both know that our mom loves having famous kids. She’s constantly posting glamour shots of herself on her social media with captions like Hyejun’s eomma missing her son while he’s on tour or Celebrating my son’s most recent music show win. AX1S fighting!

I can count on one hand the number of times she’s posted about me: when I got first place on the first episode of CiPro , when I debuted with Helloglow, and when my drama ratings hit twenty-five.

I hated how happy that last one made me. Because it meant I really did still need her approval.

But now this article is out and I feel like I’ve reverted to where I was a year ago.

“Maybe you should call her. She mentioned you never call her anymore,” Hyejun says.

I don’t call my mother unscheduled anymore, because every time I do, she tells me I’m interrupting her day and immediately hangs up on me. Things always have to be done on Han Jooyoung’s schedule or not at all. I can guarantee if I picked up the phone right now she’d be annoyed. But then she complains to Hyejun that I should call her more. I feel like the narrative of my life always shifts around me. The only consistency is that it’s whatever makes me look the worst.

“Just go, Oppa. I need to get ready and so do you.” I pretend to look through the apps on my phone.

“I can’t.” He leans back, crossing his legs comfortably. “I want to say hello to Minseok-ah first.”

“Why would you wait here to say hi to him?”

“Because I told him to come here.”

I spin to stare at him. “You what?”

Hyejun doesn’t seem to hear the surprised anger in my voice. Or, more likely, doesn’t care.

“I told him to meet me in your dressing room,” he repeats, and I let out an annoyed huff. He knows that’s not why I asked.

There’s a quick rap on the door as it opens. He doesn’t even wait for an answer. Just like Minseok to do whatever he wants.

“Hey!” He greets Hyejun with a handshake half hug. Then he sends me a grin. “What’s up, Hyeri?”

He speaks in English. His accent skews British due to going to some fancy prep school in Westminster as a kid. Of course, it’s another thing the fangirls swoon over.

It annoys me just thinking of it. So, I refuse to look at him. Instead, I stare at the mirror in front of me.

Minseok is undeniably handsome. He isn’t as tall as Hyejun, but he has a presence that can’t be denied. It’s not so much about his looks as how he holds himself. There’s an aura like he was born to be a celebrity.

Even though his hair is back to a more natural brown color instead of the bright magenta it was a few months ago and his makeup is subtle, he could take to the stage and everyone would know he’s a performer.

“Any of the other guys coming?” Hyejun asks.

“Nah, I’m solo again today.” Minseok shrugs.

I’m confused. Every time I’ve ever seen WDB, they’ve been in one another’s pockets. Not all groups get along—it’s bound to happen when you gather multiple big personalities and shove them into a group together—but WDB is notorious for being closer than family. Which is why it feels so strange that Minseok seems completely fine with going solo this summer.

Minseok plucks the last bag of Honey Butter Chips off the table. I know it’s irrational, but it annoys me. He doesn’t have the courtesy to ask, even if I can’t eat them right now.

Thankfully, he puts the bag back down.

“I talked to Jongdae-hyeong. He seems to be doing much better. Enough to be bored.” Hyejun laughs, snatching up the chips that Minseok discarded and tearing them open.

“Wait—” I start to say, but it’s too late, he’s already shoved a handful in his mouth. So much for saving them for later.

I sigh and tell myself to calm down. I can buy more. But I know I won’t. It’s one thing to hoard a free bag of chips. It’s another to go out and buy them. I can’t justify spending the money on the calories.

Minseok starts to fiddle with the brushes David left behind on the counter. “Yeah, well you know him.” He picks up my script, lying open to the last page I was reviewing. “Did you read through all of this?”

“Of course.” I grab the script from him. Maybe a little harder than necessary as I’m still annoyed about my lost chips. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

He shrugs. “I just have to change outfits later.”

Lucky , I think. It takes me hours to get ready. But at least my current look doesn’t involve dyeing my hair. I remember when I had icy-blue hair for the Helloglow summer album. I had to wake up hours before the other girls to get it re-toned before every performance.

“You’ll take care of Woori-Riri. Mat-ji, Minseok-ah?” Hyejun asks in a mix of English and Korean. His default when it’s just the three of us. I used to love it when it was the three of us. When I was younger, Minseok always convinced Hyejun to let me hang around. Something I used to mistake as affection. I’ve learned better since.

Seeing him now always makes me annoyed and on edge. He just loves to press my buttons for no reason. And I can’t have that today. Not when I have to be careful after the article.

“Don’t I always take care of Riri?” He gives a mischievous grin that I definitely do not trust. Then, he lunges and I find myself in a headlock.

“Let go!” I demand.

“Not until you say it.”

I scowl because I know exactly what he wants, and I’ll die before I give in. “No way!”

“Come on, Riri.”

“I’d rather cut off my own tongue!” I claim, a little hyperbolic, but he pisses me off so much.

“Minseok-ssi, keumanhae,” Hongjoo says sternly from the corner, her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone. She must be really annoyed to interrupt a phone call.

Minseok stops like she says and releases me. I carefully extract myself, patting the clips in my hair and turning to the mirror to check that no damage was done to the ’do.

“Geez, Hyeri, just call him Oppa. What’s the big deal?” Hyejun asks, finishing the chips and crumpling the bag between his hands. “You used to call him that all the time.”

“When I was thirteen and I didn’t know better.” I try to tuck a loosened strand behind a clip to hide it.

Hyejun laughs as he lobs the chip bag into the trash. “You act like you’re so much older now. It’s only been a few years.”

“I’m hurt, Hyeri-ya. I thought we were close,” Minseok says, catching my eyes in the mirror. And I can see the mocking in them.

Before I can retort, Hyejun’s manager opens the door. “Hyejun-ah! What are you doing here? We’re next for sound check!”

“Coming, Hyeong.” Hyejun holds out his hand, which Minseok promptly slaps in one of those lazy-yet-complicated handshakes. I almost laugh. It’s like two kids on the playground. But I feel a buzz of envy too. Hyejun and Minseok are allowed to play around like they’re kids. Even be messy or unprofessional.

It’s different for girl groups.

You’re not an idol anymore , I remind myself. I shouldn’t have to be as worried. But I still am. It’s a hard thing to shake once it’s been an every-waking-hour part of your life.

Hyejun hurries out after his manager, but, for some reason, Minseok lingers.

“Don’t you have to go too?” I ask pointedly.

“We have sound check together. I can wait here with you for it.” He flops onto the couch, folding his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. Like he’s lying on a beach instead of invading my dressing room. Within moments, his breathing evens out and I swear he’s already dozing off.

I consider poking at his feet to wake him, but Hongjoo hangs up and from her expression, I know it’s not good.

I hurry over to her. “What is it, Eonni?”

“That was the director for Idol Academy .”

“Oh, what did he say?” I ask, trying to keep my voice down so Minseok can’t hear. Idol Academy is a new drama considering me for a leading role. I don’t have the heart to admit to Hongjoo that I’m not sure if I even want the part. It’s a drama about kids going to an elite art school to train as singers. Everyone around me says I’m tailor-made for the role. But just thinking about it makes me nervous. It reminds me too much of my past and all the scandals that come with it.

But it would be such a huge deal to book a lead role so soon, and Hongjoo worked so hard to get my name in for consideration. I tell myself that if I get it, I’ll do my very best so I can make her proud.

Plus, I’ll definitely get a Mom SNS post if I land this role.

“Did they decide on casting?” I ask anxiously.

Hongjoo slowly shakes her head. “They’re going to need more time because they’re also considering another rookie actress.”

“Oh,” I say slowly, keeping my voice low because then it won’t waver as much. “I see. Well, I knew it was a long shot. It would only be my second full-length drama. I can’t expect to get such a big part so soon.”

“Yes, plus it’s not official yet! They could still choose you over Ana.”

“Ana?” It could be another Ana. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. But Hongjoo winces, and I know I’m right. It seems the universe is dead set on pitting me against Kim Ana.