"You're a good dancer," the strange man spoke up suddenly and tucked the computer under his arms. "Please, don't look so nervous—I won't tell anyone about this," he added, sensing my unease and looking up at me with his dark eyes.

"I'm really sorry, sir. It won't happen again," I swore quietly.

"What's your name?" he asked suddenly, looking me up and down inquisitively.

"Tara Sparnak, sir," I answered. Why isn't he leaving?

He regarded me calmly before continuing, "Miss Sparnak, I'm looking for a fill-in dancer for one of the groups I manage. Would you be interested in accepting this role for a night? I know this is short notice, but I think you would be an excellent fit for this position." Excuse me, what? I glanced up at him in complete and utter shock, wondering if I had heard him right.

"W-Wha..." I shook my head to clear it, regaining my composure. "Sorry, who are you again?" I asked with a puzzled look on my face. He had to be the manager of the K-pop group I'd seen earlier, but if that's the case, how am I supposed to pass for one of them?

"My name is Park Byeong-Cheol, but if you'd like, you can call me, 'Mr. Park,'" he replied with another warm smile. But before I could respond, he reached into the pocket of his royal blue blazer and produced a small business card, holding it out for me to take.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Park," I said, absentmindedly accepting it. "Um...sir, if I were to accept this offer, how much time would I have to prepare? I mean, how does this work? Is this a paid opportunity, or...?" I trailed off quietly.

"You will have one week of practice and instruction from the members, and during the concert, you will be required to pose as Ji Min-Soo and lip-sync his parts of the songs. If you're up for it, you'll receive half of your paycheck before the show and the rest immediately after," he explained. My brows furrowed in concern.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Park, but I can't accept," I whispered, surprising us both. "I mean no disrespect, but I just don't think that I'll be able to fulfill his role to the best of my ability in that span of time," I added softly. His eyes scanned my features intently, as if not understanding at first.

All of my life, I've been waiting for an opportunity like this. To finally be recognized, to dance on a stage with thousands of people watching, to make it big.

But not by posing as somebody else.

"Very well. If you change your mind, please don't hesitate to call. Have a good evening, Miss Sparnak," he spoke at last, bowing slightly. Without another word, he turned and walked out, and I was left alone with my thoughts once more. Swallowing bitterly, I lifted the mop up off of the dampened floor.

It's just another day.

The rest of my shift went as expected, and soon I was faced with an entirely new dilemma: where am I going to sleep tonight? I can't afford a motel, and I refuse to live out of my car. Bathrooms are an absolute necessity—which leaves me one option.

"Find nearby homeless shelters," I spoke into my phone awkwardly. A few dozen places popped up on the screen, and my self-esteem plummeted. This has to be the single most humiliating moment of my entire life, but whatever, the first choice looks promising enough.

With a heavy sigh, I started on my way to the shelter, arriving at a tiny grey building on the edge of town about thirty minutes later. I ditched my car in a lot across the street and calmly made my way inside where a kind, elderly woman checked me in. She asked me a few preliminary questions about my living and work situation, if I was interested in any counseling services, and how many days I might be staying. I said it was probably just for tonight, but I really feel like I'm lying to myself.

Smiling at me reassuringly, the woman flagged over another younger lady, who offered me fresh towels and toiletries, explaining that everyone planning to spend the night in the shelter was required to wash up before sleeping. Thank God too because I hate not showering after work.

And once it was finally time to rest, I realized that I am such an idiot. What was I thinking rejecting an offer like that?! For what, pride? Dignity? Just so I could sleep on a cot next to a bunch of strangers?! So what if I have to pretend to be someone else? At least I'll be pursuing my dream and getting to stay in a hotel!

I tossed and turned on the cramped cot in frustration, debating back and forth about whether I should call the K-pop group manager or not. It seemed entirely unethical to impersonate someone like Ji Min-Soo onstage, but if it gets me back on my feet...isn't it worth it?

A loud, earth-shattering snore from the cot beside me yanked me out of my thoughts, shaking me to my core with its sheer ungodliness. That does it. I threw back the covers and stormed outside with my phone in one hand and Park Byeong-Cheol's business card in the other, ready to take back this pathetic excuse of a night.

As it turns out, I wouldn't need either.

He was already there, standing outside beneath an umbrella in the pouring rain with his back against a large, jet black limousine, waiting for me. The older man smiled at me knowingly and extended the umbrella out to shield me from the rain like an old friend.

"Have you thought more about what I said earlier?" he asked with the same calm I'd been met with before. I nodded, peering up at him through the gloom.

"Yes, sir," I said, stepping closer anxiously, "and I'd like to accept."

I'll do anything to dig myself out of this mess I've made.

Anything at all.