A few days before the message that would change everything

At the top of a glass-walled building in the heart of Seoul, Park Minho looked out over the city as if it were a silent stage. Every building, every lit-up street, every rooftop concealed a piece of his game. He was in control — as he always had been.

“Jang Iseok. The video,” he said coldly, his eyes still fixed on the nightscape.

Chan, his personal assistant, approached with a tablet in hand. One tap, and an image appeared: a young woman with wavy brown hair, lively eyes, and a soft touch of lilac in her makeup. She smiled at the camera while finishing a tutorial, her confidence unusual for someone so new to the game.

“Kyrah Aylin. Brazilian. Rising fast online. Self-taught, but with refined technique. She feels real,” Chan explained. “The kind of authenticity you can’t manufacture.”

Minho narrowed his eyes.

“Real enough to fool the world?”

“Real enough to make the world love you again,” Iseok replied confidently. “The contract with the Brazilian reps has been reactivated. With her, we’ve got the perfect match… and the international marketing you need.”

Minho gave a humorless half-smile.

“And Galaxy Label?”

“They think they’re hiring an international staff member. Han Seojun made the first approach yesterday. He thinks it was random. And she... seems interested.”

“Good. Bring her in. Make her feel like she belongs. Special. Loved, even.”

Chan hesitated.

“And if she finds out?”

Minho turned back to the window, the city slowly lighting up beneath him.

“She won’t. And if she does... it’ll already be too late.”

Today
At Galaxy Label

The hallway leading to the dressing rooms was bathed in warm, golden light. Taejun stopped halfway through, phone in hand.

“Hey... isn’t that the girl Jiheon showed us the other day? The makeup artist?”

Baek Nariun leaned closer, platinum hair falling to one side as he peeked at the screen.

“Yeah, that’s her. Kyrah.” He smiled slightly. “Jiheon got obsessed with her videos. Showed them to everyone.”

“She’s got something...” Taejun frowned. “A light in her eyes. Passion. Feels like she was born for this.”

A calm, almost disinterested voice came from behind.

“He showed me first.”

Song Jiwon leaned against the wall, arms crossed, headphones hanging around his neck. His ever-serene gaze was fixed on the video playing.

“You watched all the way through, didn’t you?” Nariun teased with a smirk.

Jiwon didn’t respond right away. He stared at the floor, as if searching for answers he wasn’t ready to admit.

“The way she holds the brush...” he murmured. “It’s not just technique. It’s like... it’s a part of her.”

Before the silence could grow awkward, the hallway door opened and Han Seojun entered with confident steps, adjusting his coat collar.

“Talking about Kyrah?”

The three exchanged glances.

“You know her?” Taejun asked cautiously.

Seojun smiled faintly.

“Let’s just say... we’ve been talking. But she doesn’t know what I do. Or what’s coming.”

Jiwon looked up at him, alert. Like someone who knew this wasn’t just coincidence.

“You know her?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
Was this fate... or just a setup?

Brazil

I woke up on the couch, phone still in my hand, screen black and a dull ache in my lower back. I sat up slowly, unlocked the screen, and opened that same message again. The one that wouldn’t leave my mind.

"When you're ready to learn what's really behind all of this, let me know."

How do you know when you’re ready?

It took me two days. Two full days pretending everything was normal. Scrolling through videos, filming content I never posted. Trying not to think about it. And thinking about it constantly.

On the morning of the third day, I sent two words:

“I’m ready.”

Han read it quickly, but took hours to reply. I almost regretted it. Almost.

Han: “Great. Then it’s time for a video call. 10 PM your time—does that work?”

My stomach twisted. A video call?

Me: “That works. I’ll be ready.”

The rest of the day was emotional chaos. Anxiety tingling in my hands, thoughts racing nonstop. By 9:59 PM, I was already seated with my phone ready and my laptop webcam on. I stared at my reflection on the screen, wearing the expression of someone who had no idea what they were getting into.

When the call connected, I almost dropped my phone.

Han appeared with a dark background behind him. He smiled calmly.

“Hi, Kyrah. It’s really nice to see you.”

“Hi... You’re different than I imagined.”

“Oh yeah? Different how?”

“More... serious. And, I don’t know, more real.”

“I know this all seems mysterious. But some things can’t be explained over text. Now that we’re talking, I can tell you everything. I just ask that you keep an open mind, okay?”

I nodded, trying to look brave.

“I work with a creative team behind some of Korea’s biggest names in entertainment. My job is to find people with real talent. And place them in the right opportunities.”

“So, like... a talent scout?”

“You could call it that. But we’re after something that can’t be taught. People who are truly authentic. Like you.”

“Me?”

“You. Your videos have something special. It’s not just about makeup. It’s the feeling you convey. I showed your profile to the team I work with.”

“Who exactly did you show it to?”

“I can’t say yet. But someone wants to meet you. They think you have what it takes for big projects.”

“But... I live in Brazil. How would that even work?”

“I know. That’s why it takes courage. It won’t happen overnight, but if you’re willing to go through the process... the opportunity will come.”

“This all sounds too good to be true…”

Han smiled, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

“That’s because you have something that can’t be copied. Trust me, Kyrah. This is just the beginning.”

Meanwhile, in Seoul…

In a dark, soundproof room, Jang Iseok was seething like a storm barely contained.

“She has to be Brazilian,” he growled. “Lower class. Dreamer. Desperate for a chance!”

Park Minho, lounging like a bored king in his leather chair, swirled the whiskey in his glass.

“If she’s been through too much... she’ll be suspicious. If she’s rich... she’ll question everything. But an ordinary girl, dazzled by a dream? That we can shape.”

“The Brazilian girl’s hesitant, but she took the bait,” Chan commented in the background. “Han’s playing his part well.”

Minho didn’t smile. He simply raised his eyes to the tablet, where Kyrah’s face blinked silently—frozen at the end of a video.

“All that’s left is for her to believe she was chosen. On merit.
But luck... luck had nothing to do with it.”

And the game had begun.