Page 8 of Wish Upon a K-Star

H osting is not as bad as I thought it would be. I can barely see the faces of the audience past the stage lights during the show, so that helps. I don’t have to see any judging eyes, or anti-fan hatred.

I do spot the dozens of signs for Minseok. I don’t see any for me. And it does sting a little. It shouldn’t, but the glaring difference is so obvious. I’m sure Minseok notices it too.

Annoyingly, he’s charming and charismatic and professional onstage. Delivering the jokes in the script perfectly and even ad-libbing a few of his own. Smiling down at me with a grin meant to charm. But I’ve had practice at being apathetic toward him.

Instead, I focus on pulling out all the charm of my own I can muster. It’s not easy when I’m in direct comparison to Minseok and his easygoing persona. To compensate, I smile so hard that my cheeks hurt.

We get through half the show without any incidents.

The dressing rooms are too far for us to constantly go back and forth between our segments, so backstage there are a couple of chairs set up for us to sit in during performances. I make a beeline for them. The heels my stylist gave me are pinching my feet.

“You don’t have to try so hard,” Minseok says, pulling off his jacket and tie to change outfits.

He’s performing a duet next. It’s from the OST of the biggest fantasy K-drama of the summer. So, it’s being played everywhere these days.

“What?” I frown at him.

“You’re talking in that high voice you use when you’re trying to sound like an announcer. And you’re smiling so hard you look like a doll.”

“What? No, I’m not.” But I’m trying to remember what my voice sounded like just now onstage—was it too high? What does he know about the voices I use? He doesn’t know anything about my appearances.

“You’re too tense. You missed a line in that last segment.”

I should have known he’d bring up the missed line. Why does he always have to needle me? “The lines weren’t important,” I say defensively. “And it didn’t affect the show.”

“Where’s your manager?” He looks around even as his own team hurries over to attend to him, holding up mini fans and dabbing the sweat from his brow.

What is he going to do? Tell on me to Hongjoo?

“Shouldn’t you go get ready for your stage?” I say. I don’t want him standing here nitpicking my performance anymore.

“Are you—”

“Moonster-ssi, you’ve got three minutes for costume change,” one of the stage managers says, tablet in hand. “Hyeri-ssi, just wait here for your next cue.”

“Got it,” I say, taking another sip of water, but not too much. Wouldn’t do to have to pee in the middle of the show.

“Aren’t you at least going to wish me luck?” Minseok asks, pulling off his lapel mic and pack to hand to the assistant hovering behind him.

“Do I have to?” It comes out before I can stop it.

He lifts a brow. I internally cringe. I shouldn’t let my annoyance show so clearly. With my luck someone in the crew will post about how unfriendly I was to Minseok backstage.

“I mean…” I start to say.

“Nah, you’re right.” Minseok grins and winks. “I’m always good. I don’t need luck.”

I roll my eyes at his arrogance. Of course, he gets to act like it’s confidence and charisma. It would be labeled something completely different on me.

I wonder, as I do sometimes, what it would be like to be seen as chic instead of cold. Adorable instead of awkward. Acerbic instead of rude.

There are two performances and a commercial before I have to introduce Minseok’s duet, enough time to relax a moment. I start to sit back when colorful sequins catch my eye.

I recognize the group of girls coming off the stage and my whole body stiffens.

It’s one of the hottest rookie groups, Pink Petal. Two of the girls, Mika and Yunseo, used to be in Helloglow with me. They were both tight with Kim Ana. Which means they were never very friendly to me. Still, I plaster a smile on my face, knowing that usually others play polite in these public situations.

“Hyeri-ssi,” Yunseo says, her smile a little too derisive, but her voice butter smooth. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you at a show again.” Interpretation: You don’t belong here anymore. “I feel like it’s been forever.” Interpretation: We liked it better when you had disappeared.

For a second, my intrusive thoughts take over and I wonder what it would be like if I told her to cut the fake crap. But my training quickly squashes the urge.

“I know, it’s great to see you again,” I say, mirroring her sickly-sweet tone.

“We were just talking to Ana about how this is like a mini reunion,” Mika interjects. Her voice a bit more neutral, but her smile still reserved. “Maybe we should try to get together soon. Catch up?”

I can’t tell if she really means it. A part of me wants to believe she does. That they’re all ready to let the past be the past. But I can see from Yunseo’s face that she does not want to get together.

“That would be nice. But I’m sure you’re all very busy with your promotion schedules,” I say, and see Yunseo nod, like I should definitely not assume they’ll have time for me.

“And I’m sure you’re busy too, with your little drama cameos.”

I feel my cheek muscles waver as I try my hardest to keep my polite smile in place.

She’s just trying to push your buttons , I tell myself. Don’t fall for it.

“At first we were shocked you got into acting,” Yunseo says. “But I heard it wasn’t that hard since your oppa is close to the director, isn’t he?”

Now my smile does fall despite my best efforts, and I bite the insides of my cheeks to hold myself back.

That was barely a rumor when I was cast. Hyejun was an ambassador for a brand when he debuted, and the director of my drama worked on a commercial for that same brand once. But the director and my oppa never overlapped or worked together. It was a tenuous connection at best, but one the antis used for a few days to try to mark me as benefiting from nepotism yet again.

I hate that it makes me immediately defensive. I don’t need to defend myself against this kind of stuff anymore. I proved that I earned that role with my talent.

“The drama world is definitely different,” I say slowly. “People aren’t as into online gossip.”

Her gaze turns caustic and I immediately regret my choice of words. Maybe being away from the K-pop scene has made me too careless.

“Gossip?” Yunseo laughs. “Your scandal rumors hurt the whole group. And doesn’t the fact that you ran away prove some of them were true?”

I shake my head. I don’t want to get into this, I shouldn’t have even started this conversation. “I just want to do my job in peace.”

“Are you saying that I’m bothering you?” Yunseo’s voice rises. “Eonni, come on.” Mika is pulling on Yunseo’s arm. She clearly doesn’t think this is the best thing to do here.

I try one last time to fix things. “I’m just saying we should try to move past things so it doesn’t have to be so uncomfortable between us.”

Yunseo finally lets her smile fall away to fully sneer at me. “You don’t even know how uncomfortable I can make things for you.”

My hands itch to push her away, but I grip my skirt to hold them in place.

“Eonni!” Mika finally succeeds in pulling Yunseo back now.

Yunseo replaces her sweet smile for any passersby. “It was great seeing you again, Hyeri-ssi!” She blows a fake-ass kiss at me before striding away. Mika sends me a disappointed head shake before following.

And, more than anything, that bothers me. Does Mika really think this was my fault?

I sigh. Maybe she’s right. Despite my best efforts, the wrong thing so often comes out of my mouth. I’m horrible at being quick on my feet with that stuff. It’s why I’m not great at interviews and variety shows. And was flagged as one of my biggest weaknesses by my company. I let myself fall into my seat, closing my eyes. I feel completely drained now.

I focus on relaxing my body by zones. First my shoulders, then arms, then hands before I relax my legs and feet.

Move past it. It doesn’t matter right now. Focus on your performance.

The mild meditation is sort of working; I can pull in full breaths again. And I no longer feel like I want to cry. Just another minute of careful breathing and I should be back to normal.

“Hyeri-ssi?”

I open my eyes to see a crew member standing in front of me. The monitor behind them shows that the commercial break is just starting, so there’s no way I need to go onstage yet.

I worry for a moment that Yunseo complained about me. Would they kick me out as MC just because of her complaints? But then the crew member nervously says, “We need a favor.”

“Oh?” My anxiety abates a bit. If they’re asking for a favor, then that means I’m not in trouble. Still, I take a long breath to help steady myself.

“We need you to delay for five minutes,” the crew says.

“Delay?” I ask, nerves building.

“Yeah, here’s the script. It’ll be a quick interview with AX1S.”

“Why?” I ask, my head spinning as I glance down at the new cards. Something I haven’t memorized yet. What if I mess up?

“The next act is having a wardrobe malfunction. Some part of her outfit just went missing, so they need some time to look for it.”

“Missing?” I repeat, my brain mush right now as I try to process everything. Then I remember who sings the duet with Moonster, Kim Ana. Her outfit. So, it’s Kim Ana who has the wardrobe malfunction.

“Oh,” I say again, my heart dropping. But for a different reason than performance anxiety. Because of course it’s Kim Ana. The very person that article claims I bullied. And one of the ways was allegedly hiding her costume.

Now it’s happening again. At an event I’m cohosting.

Great, this day couldn’t get any worse.