Chapter Text
Line One
Celine was promised one thing.
As she watched people scurry back and forth with arms full of papers and scripts, her frustration grew by the minute. Her index finger tapped impatiently against her temple, her stiletto heel echoing against the white tiles. In front of her lay a draft. The screenplay of an up-and-coming romance drama.
Not just any drama.
Her coming out drama. The project that would finally let her step into the light as a woman who loved women. A girl-kisser, a sapphic.
Scandalous, she knew. But she was tired of playing the straight heroine who fell for a prince charming who barely lifted a finger. All her life, she had adored women in the shadows, hidden behind the masks written for her. She knew this choice could end her career, but she was suffocating in the cage she herself had built.
Celine pursed her lips as her manager, Gwi-ma, barked orders at the crew. Fussing over the arrangement of tables, determined to manufacture the perfect “chemistry” between Celine and her co-stars.
And of course, the actors gazed at her as though she were divine. How could they not? She was the multiawarded actress. The only one of her generation to sweep the trophies from Baeksang Arts Awards for three years in a row. Even when she was playing a supporting actress, she still commanded the outcome of the Korean drama industry.
Everyone adored her. Admired her. Worshiped the ground she stood on.
All but one.
The one who infuriated her.
She caught Gwi-ma’s eye. He smirked knowingly. He knows he could easily break her career if needed. After all, he was the one who made Celine. Who curated the very reputation she was not standing on. He did not pick Celine to be his muse. He deliberately crafted a muse out of Celine.
Celine knew Gwi-ma would never simply let her burn her own reputation to the ground. Not without a plan. Not without a leash.
But she was done. Done playing the glossy fantasy of perfect, empty love. She wanted something real. Something true, unfiltered, and messy.
She wanted women, openly.
Not in back-alley parking lots or under the suffocating disguise of “best friends.”
No more hiding.
And when she told Gwi-ma as much, he had no choice but to agree. Because if he didn’t, she would walk. His brightest star, the face of his company, the one pulling in the most revenue: gone. It wasn’t even a fair trade. So he relented.
At least, on the surface.
Celine knew better. Gwi-ma was cunning. He would never hand her freedom without twisting the knife somewhere else.
And when she arrived, Celine realized exactly how he planned to do it.
Dressed in a black long-sleeve top and blue sweatpants, her hair braided neatly, her face concealed behind a mask and cap. But there was no mistaking her.
Ryu Mi Yeong.
Once the nation’s darling. The idol whose hits Fine and In My Hands had ruled the charts. The woman who had once commanded the stage. Until one mistake sent her crashing down.
She had fallen in love.
And gotten pregnant.
The backlash was merciless. Fans howled with betrayal, claiming she had shattered their fantasies. Commentators called her irresponsible, immoral. Condemning her for having a baby with a man who abandoned her. The so-called “nation’s princess” was left to face the wreckage alone.
Celine’s jaw tightened as Mi Yeong entered, adjusting her hold on a sleeping toddler with braided purple hair. Her mother’s twin in miniature.
With careful grace, she removed her mask and hat. Then, bowed deeply, and murmured apologies.
“Oh, Mi Yeong! You’re finally here!” Gwi-ma boomed, all false cheer. “And this must be… Rumi?”
“Yes, sir,” Mi Yeong replied softly. “I’m sorry I’m late. Rumi was fussy.”
“Nonsense, nonsense.” He waved her off with a chuckle. “I understand the struggles of motherhood. After all, Celine always makes a fuss before we even leave the agency.”
Celine shot him a glare. She knew exactly what he was doing.
He hadn’t truly supported her demand for a sapphic drama. No.
This was sabotage.
Pairing her, a seasoned actress, with an idol who barely knew the craft. And worse, one already tainted by scandal.
As Gwi-ma guided Mi Yeong, still carrying Rumi, into the seat beside her. Celine saw the play unfold. Mi Yeong would be the weak link, the easy target. The audience would dismiss her as a failed idol desperate for redemption.
Celine’s drama would collapse around her.
Mi Yeong, however, only smiled gently. Her daughter stirred in her arms, nestling closer, as though clinging to her warmth.
Extending her hand, Mi Yeong met Celine’s eyes. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Celine. I heard from Gwi-ma sunbaenim that you personally chose me. Thank you for giving me this chance.”
She stood carefully, bowing without disturbing the child. “I’m in your care.”
Celine raised a brow. “Don’t thank me yet. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
Mi Yeong blinked, then smiled sheepishly as she sat again. “I know. It’s nerve-racking. But I’m excited to explore this new journey with you.”
Celine watched her adjust Rumi’s position while flipping open her script. Pity tugged at her chest. This woman would be chewed up by the industry’s cruelty. Scapegoated to elevate others.
Already, Celine could see the pity in the eyes of the other actors. They were all thinking the same thing:
Mi Yeong wasn’t here to shine. She was here to make everyone else look brighter.
Celine sighed, flipping through her own script. This was going to be a grueling year.
“Alright,” the director’s voice cut through the tension. “Let’s begin the chemistry reading. Scene nine, with Celine and Mi Yeong.”
“Line,” someone called.
“And… start.”
“Good job, everyone! Let’s wrap it up and get ready for tomorrow’s first shoot!”
Chairs scraped back, scripts shuffled into bags. Murmurs filled the room as people began filing out.
Celine rubbed her temples, jaw tight.
The damned idol can’t act to save her life.
The other actors knew it too. She could hear it in their giggles, see it in their smug glances at Mi Yeong crouched down. Carefully organizing her daughter’s things. Their laughter wasn’t fondness. It was satisfaction. The thrill of knowing they’d outshone the fallen princess.
A light tap against her thigh broke her from her irritation.
Celine looked down to find a pair of curious eyes staring back at her. The same wide, dark orbs as Mi Yeong’s.
“You’re the lady with the bamboo stick and magic!” Rumi announced proudly, pointing straight at her.
“Rumi,” Mi Yeong whispered, gently lowering her finger. “No pointing, remember?”
“Bamboo stick and magic?” Celine’s brow arched.
Mi Yeong chuckled softly. “She’s talking about your drama, The Queen of the Twelve Realms. I might’ve let her watch it.”
Celine groaned inwardly.
Of course.
That one.
The role where she’d played a burned-out corporate slave who woke up as an eternal queen in a fantasy realm. Surrounded by simpering princes (and one much better princess), all vying for her hand. Critics had raved, she’d bagged a Best Actress trophy.
But to her, it had been such a joke. Especially when her character ended up with the most emotionally unavailable prince instead of the princess who actually meant something. Who actually spoke to her character with such understanding and kindness that no prince bothered to do.
Who, by Celine's own standards, was worthy of the Queen.
“You shouldn’t let kids watch that kind of trash,” Celine muttered, tucking her script into her bag. “It teaches them nothing useful.”
“I did learn something!” Rumi shot back, puffing her cheeks.
Celine looked down at her dryly. “Oh? And what life-changing wisdom did you gain from that mess?”
“That a pure, unconditional love can thaw a cold heart!” Rumi declared proudly. “Just like how my mom’s gonna thaw yours!”
“Rumi!” Mi Yeong gasped.
Celine froze. “…Excuse me?”
Before she could say more, Mi Yeong scooped the little girl up, flustered. “Okay, that’s enough fairy tales. Time to go home, daydreamer.”
But Rumi just peeked over her mother’s shoulder, flashing a wicked grin. “You’ll see, Ms. Celine! My mom’s a charmer!”
Celine’s eyebrow twitched as they left. Her mouth set in a sharp line.
Someone slipped up beside her. Bobby, Gwi-ma’s bright-eyed assistant, smirked. “The kid’s a real charmer, huh?”
Celine slung her bag over her shoulder. “She’s a brat.”
Her heels clicked against the tile as she strode out.
Chin high.
Expression cool.
And refused to admit the faint heat prickling at her ears.
Steel clashed, ringing across the set like a melody only the two of them could play. Strike after strike, the rhythm built. Measured, sharp, intimate. Their bodies moved like partners in a dance.
Circling.
Colliding.
Pulling apart…
Only to meet again.
With one final thrust, Celine went down. Her back hit the ground with a controlled thud. Strands of hair sticking to the sweat at her temple.
“Darling,” Mi Yeong murmured, breath warm as the tip of her blade tilted Celine’s chin upward. Her smirk was playful. However, her gaze, dark and steady, held her in place. “Seven hundred years, and you didn’t bother to sharpen your skills? Did you really think I wouldn’t find you again?”
For a heartbeat, Celine forgot the cameras. Forgot the crew.
She could only hear the sound of her own breath. Quick and uneven under the weight of that gaze.
“Cut!”
The director’s voice shattered the moment. “Perfect! That’s the spark we need. Well done, Mi Yeong!”
Lights dimmed. Mi Yeong’s fierce smirk melted into a gentle smile as she withdrew the blade. She crouched, extending her hand.
“Here,” she said softly. Her fingers wrapped firmly around Celine’s wrist, warm and steady as she helped her up.
Too steady. Too close.
Celine found herself staring at the curve of her mouth. The sweat glistening at her brow, the strands of hair that had slipped loose from her braid. Yesterday Mi Yeong had been clumsy, uncertain. Today, she radiated confidence.
Her presence magnetic, impossible to look away from.
The silence from the others confirmed it. Everyone had noticed.
“How did you do that?” Celine asked, her voice sharper than intended.
“Do what?” Mi Yeong tilted her head. Still close enough that Celine could smell faint traces of baby powder and stage makeup clinging to her skin.
“That. You weren’t like this yesterday.”
Mi Yeong’s eyes softened. She brushed at the dust clinging to Celine’s leather pants. Fingers ghosting against her thigh. Celine almost shivered. “Because today, I’m standing across from you. You make me want to do better. It would be disrespectful not to.”
Her words were quiet but the honesty behind them settled low in Celine’s chest. Hot and unnerving.
Across the room, Gwi-ma’s neutral mask cracked. The twitch of his jaw, the way Bobby hovered nervously beside him.
He was furious.
Celine saw this and smirked, lifting her hand in a mocking salute.
He thought it would be easy to take her down? Well, his calculations were wrong.
Because Mi Yeong wasn’t fragile. She wasn’t fumbling.
She was a lioness.
Steady and protective.
When Rumi darted in to hug her mother’s legs, crowing, “Mommy, you were amazing!” Celine saw it even clearer.
Mi Yeong’s laugh rang out. Warm as she cradled her daughter close. Watching them, something stirred in Celine she couldn’t quite name.
Respect?
Curiosity?
Hyperfixation?
And an ache that whispered oh so dangerously that maybe she wanted to step closer.
Just a few steps nearer...
A few knocks on Mi Yeong’s heart...
A few whispers from Mi Yeong’s own personal windpipes....
Just to see what it felt like to be caught in that warmth too.