Her phone wouldn't stop buzzing.
Baek Ha-eun sat cross-legged on her bed, back pressed to the wall, scrolling through a tidal wave of mentions she hadn't asked for. The screen lit up again:
@klovefan99 tagged you in a story
"She's not even that pretty tbh. Why her?"
@e14legend liked your photo.
@fanfeedasia reposted a picture of you.
#E14Girl - trending in six countries.
Her Instagram had jumped from 122 followers to 93.4K. Then 210K. Then more.
Every time she refreshed, the number climbed.
Comments flew past her eyes , heart emojis, breathless admiration... and bile.
"Found her school. Found her name. Just wait. We'll ruin her."
Her heart dropped.
Without thinking, she pressed hard on the app icon.
Instagram — deleted.
Donuts — gone.
KakaoTalk — silent.
Private blog — locked.
But it didn't matter.
Her face was already out there. Her seat number, her school uniform, her reaction , five seconds of viral vulnerability.
She opened YouTube. There it was again: 10.4 million views.
THE MOMENT SEO-JUN FELL IN LOVE? 👀 WHO IS E14 GIRL?
She hit play.
Her own face. Startled. Uncertain. Zoomed in, slowed down. Glitter added. Heart overlays. Edited into a thousand versions she never consented to.
From the hallway came Rina's voice.
"Unnie!" Her cousin barged in, waving her phone like a victory flag. "You're everywhere! Seoul Scoop just posted about you. So did K-Star Insider!"
"I deleted everything, all my social media accounts," Ha-eun said, voice flat.
Rina froze. "What? Why?! This is your moment! If I got that look from Seo-jun—"
"I didn't want the look."
Rina faltered. Ha-eun stood and shuffled toward the kitchenette, numb.
She pulled down a pack of ramyeon. The normal kind. The kind that made sense.
While the noodles boiled, Rina leaned against the counter, still scrolling. "Someone made a slow-mo edit with rose petals," she whispered.
"Rina..."
"I'm serious. This could change everything. You've always said you'd just disappear. Maybe this is fate."
"I never asked for this."
"Maybe Seo-jun did."
Ha-eun said nothing. She cracked an egg into the pot and stirred.
Later, they sat side by side at the table, slurping noodles under the kitchen light.
Rina broke the silence.
"Do you think he remembers your face?"
"I don't want him to."
"That's such a Ha-eun thing to say."
They ate quietly.
Then, softly: "There were death threats."
Rina froze mid-bite. "What?"
"In the DMs. Some were... really bad."
Rina set her bowl down, face paling. "I didn't know it got that serious."
"It's not a fairytale," Ha-eun whispered. "It's a witch hunt."
Silence stretched between them.
"...Should we tell Eomma and Appa?"
"They already know," Ha-eun murmured. "Someone at work must've shown them."
Her phone buzzed again. A text from her mother:
Come help when you're done. Wear your hat.
———
The alley behind the marketplace smelled like fried batter and detergent. Ha-eun tied on her apron, tucking stray strands of hair under her cap.
Her family's tteokbokki cart sat tucked near the subway exit , small, steady, steaming with red sauce. Her father took orders from students. Her mother stirred rice cakes with a wooden paddle.
"You're here," her father said with a tired smile. "Good. Help your mom with the sauce. It's boiling too fast."
She moved without a word, but whispers followed her.
"Is that the E14 girl?"
"She's prettier in real life."
"I thought she'd be taller."
Phones came out. Faces turned.
"Ignore them," her mother said gently. "Smile with both hands."
"I'm not good at smiling."
"Then serve quietly. That's enough."
A woman in a bright pink coat stepped forward.
"Are you her mother? From the concert?"
Her mom bowed slightly. "Yes. But today, we're just selling rice cakes."
"She's pretty. Quiet, too. I like that. Not like those loud drama girls."
As the crowd grew, so did the stares.
A man raised his phone. Rina stepped in, arm outstretched. "Please. No photos."
He laughed. "Wow. Sensitive, aren't we?"
Ha-eun felt like glass under a microscope.
Later, at the back of the cart, she scrubbed trays in silence. Rina sat beside her, still scrolling.
"They say you've already been cast in a drama," she said.
"Not funny."
"It's a little funny."
Pause.
Then, gently: "If he really wants to find you... you won't be able to hide forever."
Ha-eun stared into the soapy water.
"Maybe I don't want to hide forever," she whispered. "But I don't want to be found like this."
Rina looked over, smiled.
"Then maybe let him find you his way."
**********
Han Seo-jun's penthouse sat on the top floor of a glass tower overlooking the Han River, where the city lights scattered across the water like glitter each night. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of Seoul's skyline , but he wasn't looking at it now.
He stood in the center of his pristine living room, white marble floors, minimalist black furniture, curated art , and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
His personal assistant, Hyung Min-jae, stood nearby, tablet in hand, watching him pace.
"You're seriously going?" Min-jae asked.
Seo-jun nodded.
"You barely know her."
"I remember her."
"We haven't even cleared this with the agency—"
"That's the point," Seo-jun said. "I want to see her before they turn her into a headline again."
Min-jae hesitated. "It wasn't hard to find her. Someone posted her address last night. We got it before it was deleted."
Seo-jun didn't respond. He hated that her privacy had been breached , but he was grateful the thread hadn't vanished before he could follow it.
He headed into his bedroom, dark walls, designer shelves, soft lighting. He dressed quickly: charcoal hoodie, tailored blazer, slim black jeans, and Saint Laurent boots. Casual enough not to draw attention, refined enough not to lose himself. He slid on sunglasses, though the sun was already low.
His phone buzzed.
엄마 💬: Are you sleeping well, baby? I'm drinking coconut water in Bali like a queen. Call me later 💕.
He smiled faintly and tucked the phone into his coat. "Let's go," he said.
——-
The car ride was silent.
He sat in the back of a matte black Genesis SUV while Mr. Choi, his longtime driver, wound through older neighborhoods , narrow streets, low houses pressed shoulder to shoulder, laundry lines and garden pots in every corner.
"Here?" Mr. Choi asked, pulling to a stop in front of a narrow two-story home. Brick walls faded with time. A crooked gate. Potted plants by the stairs.
Seo-jun stared. So ordinary. So unlike his world.
And yet... it felt real.
He stepped out. The wind caught the edge of his coat as he pulled his hoodie up and stuffed his hands into his pockets.
Just as he reached the house, the door creaked open.
A girl froze in the doorway.
Her jaw dropped.
"Y-you're... you're..."