Chapter Text
"Bravery is not about being fearless; sometimes, it moves in whispers, like the soft beat of one foot followed by another, despite the doubt and uncertainty... despite being scared."
╬╬═════════════╬╬
“I’ll drown her in her precious overpriced milk tea—venti cup, extra pearls, straight to hell!” Miyeon hissed, stabbing at her phone like a murderer. “That sinner’s mouth is more irritating than nails on a chalkboard during a hangover.”
She let out a sharp snicker, lips pressed tight, eyes blazing.
Across from her, the Unholy Trinity just stared—equal parts concern and amusement.
And no—Unholy Trinity wasn’t some edgy girl group or fake cult.
It was Miyeon’s trio GC unit; Shuhua, Soojin, and Soyeon.
Three women.
One cursed group chat— enough blackmail to end Miyeon’s career in under five seconds— if even one screenshot ever saw daylight.
"Miyeon..." Soyeon tried to catch her attention, but Miyeon just looked at her with a scowl. "What?!" she snapped.
Soyeon sighed, rolling her eyes as she took a long sip of the coffee she
graciously
bought for Miyeon.
"Why are you murdering your phone?”
she muttered, nodding toward the staff bustling around them.
“You’re literally in the middle of filming. One photo, and bam—front page:
‘Cho Miyeon caught angrily texting—secret lover or secret scandal?’
”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Congrats. You’re one second away from trending again.”
“You
know
how the media loves to twist everything these days,”
Shuhua sighed dramatically.
“How I
wish
she had a secret lover. But Miyeon’s been single since—”
She paused, pretending to think.
“—well, since she’s in the womb, probably. Yeah. Her love life’s been on airplane mode since birth.”
Miyeon couldn't help but roll her eyes at her friends—well, not really friends, considering Soyeon was her overworked manager, Shuhua was her devil-incarnate sister, and Soojin her sister-in-law.
Real friends were a myth in her industry—like budget-friendly stylists or sincere compliments.
“You were supposed to marry this idiot!”
Miyeon hissed, shoving her phone into Shuhua’s face, displaying an article where Yuqi, her future wife, claimed Miyeon's success was all thanks to her.
It was giving delusion.
Yep, Yuqi was
originally
engaged to Shuhua— she was sent to Taiwan to study Mandarin and prepare for bride duty. But Shuhua pulled a plot twist and slept with her “best friend” which is a code for
‘Hidden girlfriend’
that you can semi-legally introduce to your parents.
So how did she
fix
that little problem?
Easy.
She
sacrificed her own sister
like a clearance bridesmaid nobody wanted, then threw her into the fire like a discounted desperate bride.
Now Miyeon’s the one stuck holding the bouquet—unwilling, uninvited, and fully betrayed.
Thanks to her backstabbing sister, she got traded like a clearance item and shoved into the role of the gremlin’s bride. Proof that blood isn’t always thicker than water… especially when there’s a diamond ring involved.
"I'm sorry, Yeonnie, but I just couldn’t let my girlfriend marry that arrogant jerk,"
Soojin said, her voice heavy with fake sorrow, like she hadn’t just handed Miyeon’s fate to Satan in a designer suit.
Beside her, Shuhua—her
very
married wife—was blushing like a schoolgirl caught in the act.
Tsk, selective hearing, bitch — Soyeon rolled her eyes at Shuhua as she took a sip of her coffee.
"Why do you have to sacrifice me? You know how much I hate that little arrogant half-Chinese gremlin!"
Miyeon whisper-screamed, practically vibrating with rage.
Shuhua blinked at her like she’d grown two heads. No response. No guilt.
“Someone really needed to tell Miyeon there were only
two
sisters in our family—and one of them was already booked and married… Congratulations, sacrificial lamb.”
“You know,” Soyeon cut in, completely unbothered, “I still don’t get why you hate her so much. She seems… fine? I mean, yeah, she’s a little full of herself—but who isn’t when they’re successful? And weren’t you guys childhood friends or something?”
The room went dead silent.
Shuhua, Miyeon, and Soojin froze like their souls had been yeeted straight out of their bodies.
It was the kind of silence that made even the ghosts stop and stare.
Soyeon, blissfully unaware, just sipped her coffee.
Did they even hear it right?
“Are you sure about that, Soyeon?”
Shuhua asked slowly, like she was speaking to a child about to touch a hot stove.
Miyeon didn’t even bother with words—she just gave Soyeon a look so disgusted like she smelled expired milk. “Are we even talking about the same Yuqi here?”
Soyeon blinked. “Yes? Yuqi . Miyeon’s future wife. I mean, yeah, she’s a bit of a jerk, but… is there a specific reason you all hate her so much?”
That was it.
All three—Shuhua, Miyeon, and Soojin—took a synchronized sip of their drinks like they were in a cult that worshipped silence over stupidity.
Eyes averted. No one spoke.
Soyeon stared back, baffled. “...Did I say something wrong?”
“Nothing,” Shuhua said sweetly, patting Soyeon’s ego like a dying plant. “Actually… you didn’t say anything right.”
Shuhua was another version of Soyeon but much younger... and much much more stable in life.
“She’s like a knockoff Donald Trump in a miniskirt—throws money around like it’s personality and thinks she can buy me,” Soojin pointed to herself, “and my friends,” gesturing at the table. “She makes me feel like without her money and power, I’d be irrelevant. That’s how arrogant she is.”
There was a pause.
Then Shuhua added, deadpan “She’s not wrong though. She would buy us. The difference is , she would throw us after just to prove her point...” Soyeon looked confused, as if she didn’t understand—even though it had been explained clearly… perfectly even.
“Never mind, babe,” Shuhua said. “She wouldn’t get it anyway. All their conversations are just polite nods.” She threw a glance at Soojin, who—naturally—nodded in agreement.
“right” Soojin added. “She doesn’t even know Soyeon’s name. To her, she’s just ‘Miyeon’s Manager.’ That’s it. No surname, no soul, just the job title.”
“Yup!” Shuhua chimed in. “I’m convinced Yuqi genuinely thinks that’s her legal name. Like, Miyeon’s Manager, first name ‘The,’ last name ‘Assistant.’”
Soyeon let out the world’s longest eye roll, “I hope both of your bank accounts get hacked,” she muttered.
Soyeon honestly couldn’t understand how Miyeon survived daily life with these two disaster wives. Every time they opened their mouths, it was like kindness had been exorcised from their vocabulary.
Soojin snorted between giggles, “You know, I even caught Yuqi calling Soyeon ‘Miyeon’s tail.’ Like she’s just... following her around wagging approval” Shuhua doubled over, laughing like it was the best thing she’d ever heard.
Soyeon stared at them, deadpan. “You two need holy water… And maybe duct tape.”
“Aw, come on,” Shuhua grinned. “You know it’s true.”
“Fuck both of you,”
Soyeon muttered, sipping her coffee like it was laced with regret.
“Your mouths are so foul, I’m surprised you haven’t been banned from public speaking.”
But Soyeon knew deep down that it was…
true
. knew the jokes weren’t just
jokes
. They were facts wrapped in laughter. Yuqi
really
does call her
“Miyeon’s Manager”
—not once, not even twice, not as a joke, but like
it
was actually her full legal name.
She’d
never
even bothered to ask for the real one.
Not
Jeon Soyeon.
Not even
Soyeon.
Just... a title. A
role
. A background character in the Yuqi-Miyeon soap opera.
To Yuqi, she wasn’t a person.
She was a
function
—a glorified assistant, overwork manager, personal shadow, human tripod.
And Soyeon hated how much that stung… that she didn't mean a thing.
━─━────༺༻────━─━
The Twitterverse is in chaos over a new blind item hinting at a top actress who allegedly underwent extensive plastic surgery to stay relevant in the cutthroat entertainment industry.
Backed by a powerful agency, she reportedly secured the lead role in a major upcoming Korean drama—fueling even more speculation.
The initials in the blind item?
C.M.
And that was all it took for the internet to light up with guesses… and accusations.
It didn’t take long for netizens to start pointing fingers.
Speculation spread like wildfire as they typed without hesitation—
careless, ruthless,
and completely
unbothered
by the damage their words might cause.
After all, to them, it was just a
rumor
.
Just gossip.
Never mind the fact that someone had to
bleed
for their entertainment…
🗨️ @surgerysniffers : “That’s Cho Miyeon, I’m sure of that. Plus, she has a new upcoming series that got massive funding. The math is mathing 🧐”
🗨️ @tea_spiller97 : “Wait—I thought she was all-natural? Didn’t know she was made of plastic 💀”
🗨️ @unfilteredfangirl : “All that surgery and she still acts stiffer than her Botox… tragic 😭”
🗨️ @miyeon_wifey84 : “Fool! She fixed her face, not her skills. Back off—she’s still THE queen 👑”
🗨️ @botox_babygirl : “Queen? Please. More like Botox Queen. Even her brain’s wrinkle-free at this point 💉🧠”
🗨️ @plasticbutpretty : “What’s wrong with Miyeon’s surgery? Her doctor did God’s work. I didn’t even know she went under the knife 😍✨”
🗨️ @stan_miyeon_die_trying : “Y’all just mad she looks better than your faves even post-surgery. Touch grass.”
🗨️ @yourdadsburner : “Lmao the haters in this thread acting like they wouldn’t sell a kidney for her face.”
🗨️ @babygirlyuqi : “And yet your ‘queen’ still ain’t got a ring on her finger. Yuqi left her and the Botox.”
The identity hadn’t been confirmed, but that didn’t stop people from assuming. The initials alone— C.M. —were enough to paint a target on Miyeon’s back.
Miyeon scrolled through the comments, reading each one with quiet restraint. Every word hit harder than the last, but she kept her fingers
still
.
She wanted to reply—oh, how badly she wanted to clap back. But she
knew
better.
In this industry, even the truth can make you look
petty…
And as the saying goes; Don’t throw stones in the air if you can’t handle them crashing back down.
Soyeon watched her quietly, sadness flickering in her eyes as Miyeon scrolled through her feed—her face once again splashed across headlines she never asked for.
It was always the same cycle.
No matter how hard Miyeon worked, the paparazzi never framed her in a good light.
Instead, they used her name like bait—a fodder to drown out real news, because they knew one thing for sure — Fans would eat it up.
Scandal sold, and Miyeon’s pain was profit.
Toxic people thrive on tearing others down— it makes them feel taller.
And the media?
They’ll cover anything if it means clicks, even if it means crushing someone in the process.
Because in the end, the news isn’t loyal….
After all, news can be either a friend or a foe.
“Stop scrolling,”
Soyeon said softly, passing Miyeon an iced Americano.
“I told you—not to waste your energy on that garbage.”
They sat in silence just outside the tent, tucked away from the crew. The cameras were off, the set quiet—for now.
They were simply waiting for Miyeon’s next scene to be called… but the storm on her screen was louder than anything around them.
“They’re saying I’ve had a huge transformation,”
Miyeon snapped
“That Yuqi wouldn’t even marry me now.”
She scoffed, shaking her head.
“For their information, I don’t even want to marry that bastard. And who the hell is she to reject me ?” Her voice rose, laced with fire. “That gremlin should be grateful I’m staying silent—if I really wanted to talk, her whole empire would shake.” Soyeon glanced at Miyeon’s furious expression and let out a soft chuckle—more of a habit.
But beneath it, a familiar ache stirred in her chest.
She knew the truth.
Miyeon had never gone under the knife.
She had been there since the beginning—through every struggle, every audition, every moment Miyeon had to claw her way up in an industry built on illusions.
Soyeon had seen it all—how the brighter Miyeon shined, the more people tried to stick close.
Fake friendships dressed as loyalty.
Smiles that lasted only until the cameras were gone.
Because in this world, if you didn’t have your own spotlight, you simply rode the glow of someone who did.
And when that ride ended?
They didn’t walk away….
They made sure to burn you down on the way out.
Soyeon often wondered—what would Miyeon do if she gave her permission to fight back? To speak, to scream, to tear the lies apart?
But she already knew the answer… Miyeon wouldn’t.
Because she loved her career too much to gamble it— She’d swallow her pride, bury the pain, and smile for the cameras—no matter how much it… hurt .
That was the
cost
of survival in this industry.
You don’t speak.
You endure.
And that silence?... It clung to Soyeon like a second skin.
Because watching someone you care about be torn apart—and knowing they won’t fight back—hurts in a way no headline ever could.
━─━────༺༻────━─━
Yuqi’s phone wouldn’t stop pinging—notifications piling up from every app like a digital siren.
Her eyes narrowed as she picked it up, already guessing who the buzz was about.
After all, there was only one name she had alerts on for.
She's trending again... Cho Miyeon.
She tapped through the chaos of headlines, blind items, and fanwars—until she found them.
Old photos. Pre-debut shots.
Before the fame— before the makeup — before the world knew her name…
Yuqi stared at the screen, a slow, mocking grin spreading across her face.
“Wow... she really let herself be photographed like that?” She laughed under her breath, the sound cold and mean. “Damn. She looks so ugly here.”
With zero hesitation, she zoomed in, took a screenshot, and posted it straight to her story with a caption.
— ‘Right, I wouldn’t want to marry this ugly duckling either.’ —
She set her phone to Do Not Disturb and went back to work like she hadn’t just poured gasoline on an already-burning fire—A smile tugged at her lips—not the sweet kind, but the kind you wear when you know you’ve just ruined someone’s day...
.
.
.
“Huh?”
Soyeon blinked at her screen, eyes narrowing at the username. She refreshed once. Then twice. A third time—just to be sure.
Nope. Still the same handle.
“Did she get hacked?”
she muttered under her breath, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
Around her, others had started checking their phones too—expressions shifting from idle curiosity to surprise.
The room buzzed with whispers.
Yuqi had just posted a collage of Miyeon’s old photos. Childhood snapshots. Pre-debut candids. No filters. No edits.
Soyeon stared, realisation slowly sinking in.
Yuqi wasn’t mocking her… She was proving a point.
Those photos—raw, untouched—told the truth louder than any tabloid.
Miyeon hadn’t had surgery. Not even close.
Yuqi had the
proof…
and she’d just dropped it for the
world to see.
━─━────༺༻────━─━
The buzz was everywhere—Twitter, TikTok, Instagram, even breaking news on national TV.
Every headline screamed the same thing: Yuqi had posted about Miyeon.
And not just anywhere.
On her personal Instagram story— Her. Personal. Instagram. Story.
It wasn’t a vague repost.
It wasn’t from her PR team.
It was Yuqi herself—unfiltered, deliberate, and loud.
Suddenly, the narrative shifted.
Blind items that once pointed to Miyeon vanished into thin air.
Other actresses were named.
Miyeon's name? Nowhere to be found.
The headline that took over the internet? It has changed…
“Yuqi, such a simp for Her Future Wife.”
It became the story of the week—not just because Miyeon was one of the most famous actresses there, but because of
Yuqi
…because Yuqi wasn’t
just
her childhood friend.
Because this future wife of Miyeon... was also her CEO. The one who owned the number one Entertainment company in Korea.
~TBC~