The CEO Forced Me to Be a Movie Queen! (GL) - Chapter 5

Seol-soo drifted into deep thought, the weight of the proposed agreement pressing down on her.

Inside the taxi, the dim interior light caught Ji-hyo, who was dressed in a T-shirt and distressed jeans full of holes. She looked undeniably boyish, yet her refined features added a touch of feminine grace—a rare kind of “handsome” beauty for a girl.

Since Seol-soo had finally replied, Ji-hyo didn’t push further. Instead, she let out a weary yawn; over fourteen hours of dancing had left her body aching. Regarding the investment, she was still a bit apprehensive. “Looking at how happy Papa was, I guess the funding might actually go through.”

“Maybe?” Seol-soo forced a faint smile, testing her with a low voice. “The way you say that, Ji-hyo, it sounds like you’re looking forward to the group disbanding.”

The rainy night was chilling. Ji-hyo stared out at the hazy, blurred nightscape before leaning closer to Seol-soo’s side, resting her head lightly on her shoulder. “You know it’s not that,” she murmured. “I’m the person who’s been working toward being the best girl group rapper, after all.”

The implication was clear: she didn’t want to break up. Through the thin fabric of her T-shirt, Ji-hyo could feel the warmth of Seol-soo’s shoulder. It felt like years ago when they were coming home from school, her cheek pressed against Seol-soo’s back on the seat of a bicycle. She let out a long sigh. “Hey… how about you take tomorrow off to get your leg injury checked out at the hospital?”

Ji-hyo’s voice was unique among young women—resonant and magnetic. She could handle a storm of rapid-fire rap lyrics, but when she spoke softly, she sounded as deep and steady as a cello.

Seol-soo let her lean there, showing a rare moment of compliance. “Then I’ll check out the clinic nearby. It’s been a while; it shouldn’t be anything serious.” Large hospitals were too expensive. With the company failing and their songs flopping, they had no performances and their living standards had hit rock bottom. They weren’t stars; they were effectively unemployed. To make ends meet, both she and Ji-hyo worked part-time at convenience stores. Often, to save bus fare, walking several stops back to the dorm was a routine occurrence.

“Just take the day off. You and Yoo-ri both need to recover,” Ji-hyo said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Seol-soo nodded. She usually gave in when Ji-hyo became serious. “Alright. I’ll get my leg checked.”

As the taxi wove through the streets, Ji-hyo shifted for more comfort, snuggling closer into the neck of the girl a year her senior. She closed her eyes halfway, drifting into a daze. Even with the threat of disbandment looming, Seol-soo hadn’t given up; she was still training with grueling intensity. Last night, she had slept for less than six hours.

In the shadows, Park Seol-soo let out a low sigh. She gently brushed back the bangs falling over her friend’s face and tilted her shoulder to make the “pillow” more comfortable. After a long silence, she spoke softly. “Ji-hyo, if this investment fails and we really do disband… you’ll go back to Gwangju, won’t you? You promised your mom you’d go back to school if this didn’t work out.”

The words drifted into Ji-hyo’s ear. She hummed a response without opening her eyes. “Maybe. But I still want to sing most of all. I don’t think I have a talent for studying. Even if she hits me with thirty shoulder throws, I’ll probably still fail math. Fighting for music is one thing, but that… that would be a real loss of dignity.”

Seol-soo smiled faintly. Ji-hyo’s parents were Taekwondo instructors at a local dojang; bad grades resulted in “sparring” punishments.

Seol-soo had seen her being “repaired” by her mother once at the gym—Ji-hyo had been flattened on the floor, screaming in agony as if her waist were about to break. Recalling the scene, Seol-soo chuckled. “Ji-hyo, you’ve always loved music and composing. You’re Eminem’s number-one fan; you want to be a rapper.” She remembered Ji-hyo’s commanding presence on stage and, feeling a spark of playfulness, mimicked her tone by reciting a few bars of lyrics.

Ji-hyo, who had been on the verge of sleep, burst out laughing. Perhaps the news of the investment had finally brought some relief to the months of exhaustion and torment—even the introverted, steady Seol-soo was cracking jokes.

Ji-hyo sat up slightly, matching the beat of the radio. She started beatboxing and hyped herself up: “That’s right! I’m the best! I’ll knock ’em all down!”

“Are you singers? That’s quite good, girls!” the taxi driver chimed in, sounding impressed.

“We just debuted, Uncle!” Ji-hyo laughed, her thick-skinned confidence returning the moment she found her spirit. “Remember me—I’m Heo Ji-hyo, the baddest female rapper in Gwangju! Soon to be number one in Seoul, number one in Asia!”

Seol-soo watched her boasting, a tolerant, gentle smile on her face.

“Well, it’s an honor. How about another one? I’ve got some tracks with a good beat,” the driver said, adjusting the music, happy to have encountered such interesting passengers so late at night.

Ji-hyo played along, singing in the car, then turned to Seol-soo. “So… I’m really happy we’re not disbanding.”

Seol-soo nodded. “I know.” She knew the only reason Ji-hyo was grumpy was because Seol-soo hadn’t taken care of her leg injury.

Ji-hyo nodded back and told the driver, “Uncle, remember to help us climb the charts in the future. This beauty beside me, Park Seol-soo, is going to be the Dancing Queen of Asia. We have a cute sub-vocal, too. We’re going to be huge!” She started singing their debut track—the one that had flopped—as if the taxi cabin were a grand stage.

Seol-soo joined her for a few lines. They kept the lively atmosphere going until they reached their stop and bowed goodbye to the driver.

“Good luck, kids!” the driver waved, driving off with a grin.

The rain was still drizzling. Ji-hyo held the umbrella as they walked up the slope toward their rented dorm. Their previous place had been closer to the company and much nicer. But six months ago, the agency’s finances had plummeted. Debt-ridden Papa Ahn couldn’t afford the rent for a decent apartment. After THEME debuted, they only made it onto three music show stages before the shareholders pulled out. Their senior boy group had disbanded, and a mass of angry fans had boycotted all the agency’s artists as a form of “retribution.”

In the face of such bad luck, the girls’ blood, sweat, and tears as trainees were erased by a sudden, external catastrophe.

Their debut song, prepared over a year, vanished from existence without ever breaking the Top 100.

“Disastrous” was an understatement. With no performances and no income, the members had to move to this cramped, thirty-square-meter relic in the suburbs. It had one kitchen, one bathroom, and a fifteen-square-meter bedroom filled with simple bunk beds.

Shortly after the move, the main vocal, Ha-ri, decided she couldn’t take the squalor or the hopelessness anymore. She believed her talent deserved a better future and chose to quit, leaving the company and her members behind to join the side of the defecting shareholders as a solo artist.

It was a classic case of “when it rains, it pours.” An elite main vocal like Ha-ri was not easy to replace.

Seol-soo, Ji-hyo, and Ha-ri had all been trainees at a much larger company together. They had stuck by each other for years, but because the competition there was too fierce, they had chosen to follow Producer Ahn to a smaller agency to debut. They were comrades who had shared both the bitter and the sweet.

“When Ha-ri left, she actually asked for your opinion, didn’t she? Why didn’t you find a way to make her stay?” Ji-hyo asked as they walked. Under the umbrella, the past felt heavy. Back when they were JYP trainees, Ha-ri had promised they would walk the path until the end… but as they walked, they eventually drifted apart.

Seol-soo carried the fried chicken. “Twisted melons aren’t sweet. I couldn’t stand in the way of her future. Besides, Papa says he has a candidate who will join the team soon.” This was a difficult subject for her; she hadn’t wanted Ha-ri to leave, but she felt she had no right to hold back a friend looking for a better life.

Ji-hyo said, “I heard from Ailee, too. The new main vocal is a sixteen-year-old Korean-American. Ailee said she visited the company once a long time ago, but I never saw her. Did you notice her?”

Seol-soo shook her head. “I was busy practicing. But I trust Papa. Even if she’s young, she must be a good vocalist.” Just having enough members to fill the spots was a blessing at this point.

Ji-hyo nodded, then added with her usual humor, “True. After all, he discovered me, which proves his eye for talent is top-tier.”

Because they had been “nugu” (unknowns) for so long, the members of THEME had learned to use self-deprecating praise and mutual hype as an inside joke to keep themselves going. But combined with Ji-hyo’s handsome face, the joke always came off as adorably cocky.

Walking through the rain, Seol-soo was finally teased into a laugh. She matched the tone, a flicker of pride showing in her eyes. “Discovering you is one thing,” she whispered, “but it’s discovering me that proves his eye is truly legendary.”

Ji-hyo burst into laughter in the middle of the street. “The Gwangju Queen of Stiff Limbs?” Back during their big-three auditions, Seol-soo had been mocked for being “stiff” because she was so nervous.

Seol-soo smiled at the memory. Those times were so hard… every day since then had been hard. “Ji-hyo.”

“Yeah?” Ji-hyo was still breathless from laughing.

Seol-soo looked at her under the umbrella, her tone suddenly turning serious. “I won’t let THEME disband. You’re going to be the best rapper, and the whole world will know your name.”

The streetlights were dim, the rain was a fine mist, and the alley was empty. Heo Ji-hyo, with her blue hair and her bravado, looked at Seol-soo and nodded. “Yeah. We will.” She gave her promise, then added, “Seol-soo said she wants to be in the most famous girl group, so I’ll work hard to be the best rapper.”

Seol-soo continued walking. “Did I say that? About being the most famous?”

Ji-hyo followed beside her. “You did. Back when we went to visit Seol-jung.”

The moment she said the name, she regretted it. Her voice dropped. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to bring up your sister.” Seol-jung had passed away tragically a few years ago.

Seol-soo’s expression darkened slightly, but she gave a small, faint smile. Ji-hyo’s personality might seem self-centered on the surface, but she was actually very disciplined and considerate. “It’s fine. I remember now. I think I did tell her that. And Seol-jung was so happy to hear it… it feels like a long time ago.” She had promised her sister she would debut soon, get famous, and take her away once she made money… Seol-jung had been gone for two years, and Seol-soo still hadn’t made anything of herself.

“I’m so sorry…” Ji-hyo frowned, wanting to say something more but finding the words wouldn’t come. She could only apologize again, silently holding the umbrella over her as they returned to the dorm.

When they opened the door, the room was pitch black. The two younger members were already asleep.

Ji-hyo turned on her phone’s flashlight, navigating the narrow space with practiced ease. The rain had cooled the summer heat, and the temperature had dropped. Seeing Moon-wol without a blanket, Seol-soo leaned over to cover her.

Then she climbed to the top bunk to feel Yoo-ri’s forehead. She let out a small sigh of relief; the fever had broken.

“Unnie…” Yoo-ri murmured in a half-awake daze. “I’m thirsty…”

“Stay under the covers. I’ll get you some water,” Seol-soo whispered.

As she spoke, Ji-hyo poured a cup of warm water from the low table and handed it over. Seol-soo helped Yoo-ri up and gave her a few sips. “Rest well. We’re going to get you a shot tomorrow.”

Yoo-ri nodded and drifted back to sleep.

Seol-soo sighed, climbed down from the bunk, and followed Ji-hyo into the tiny bathroom to shower. It was after 2:00 AM by the time they finally lay down to sleep.

In the darkness, Ji-hyo spoke from the top bunk. “Hey, Seol-soo. What do you want for your birthday this year?”

Seol-soo lay there, her lips pursed. “A concert for ten thousand people?”

Ji-hyo leaned over the edge of the bed, her voice a tiny whisper. “Keep dreaming, Asia’s Dancing Queen.”

Seol-soo smiled, closed her eyes, and whispered her goodnight. The long, frantic day had finally come to an end.

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