Chapter 1: My Obsessive Noona and the Road to Stardom
The soft buzz of city life hummed outside the window of Jae-min's high-rise apartment. His black hair stuck up at odd angles, half-covering his eyes as he rolled over on the bed, dragging the sheets with him. Morning light seeped through the blinds, casting long streaks across the floor littered with clothes, shoes, and the remnants of yesterday's takeout.
Jae-min groaned and rubbed his face. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, but he ignored it. Life had become a loop of uneventful mornings, afternoons spent staring at his laptop, and evenings wondering what the hell to do with his life. He wasn't exactly struggling financially. His parents, busy with their businesses and constantly away, ensured his bills were paid, and his bank account was well-funded. But that didn't stop the sense of emptiness from creeping in. There was always that nagging feeling, the one that came with too much time and too little purpose.
The door clicked open.
He didn't have to look to know who it was. Jin-ah never knocked—she had her own key.
"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," Jin-ah's voice rang out, light and playful, but with that familiar edge of authority.
Jae-min cracked a grin without moving. "Morning, Noona."
Jin-ah stepped into the small studio, her heels clicking against the hardwood. She was always composed, elegant in a way that felt effortless. There was a confidence in the way she held herself, a poise that came from not just wealth but knowing how to wield it. Unlike his parents, who showered him with money and nothing else, Jin-ah was involved. She wasn't just a CEO of a successful media company; she was someone who made things happen—and she never let him forget it.
She took one look around the room, noting the pile of clothes on the floor, the half-eaten carton of noodles on the coffee table, and the unmade bed. "Do you live like this on purpose, or are you just trying to keep me coming back to clean up after you?"
Jae-min finally sat up, his messy hair falling over his eyes. "Maybe I just want to see how long it'll take for you to give up on me."
She smiled, a small, knowing smile. "I don't give up on people I care about."
Her words hung in the air for a moment longer than necessary before she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, her sharp eyes still scanning his room. "You know, you could do better. If someone important dropped by, they'd think you were a slob."
Jae-min stretched, his muscles protesting the movement. "I doubt anyone important's coming by anytime soon. Not unless I suddenly become famous overnight."
Jin-ah's gaze flicked to him, her expression softening. "Funny you should say that."
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge, close but not too close.
"I've been thinking," she started, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of the sheets. "You've got something most people don't. Looks, charm, that kind of natural charisma you can't fake." Her voice dropped a little, as if she was revealing something important. "You could be someone in front of the camera, Jae-min."
Jae-min groaned, falling back onto the bed. "Noona, you're not trying to get me into one of your company's productions again, are you?"
She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall, her expression softening. "Why not? You've got the looks, the presence, and frankly, you need to stop wasting your time lounging around here. You'd be a natural in front of the camera."
He glanced at her sideways. "What makes you think I can act?"
"I don't need you to be the next Oscar winner," she replied smoothly, her eyes gleaming. "I just need you to be you. Besides, your face will do most of the work."
Jae-min chuckled, sitting up again. "So you're saying I just have to stand there and look pretty? Sounds like a real challenge."
"You'll do more than just look pretty, Jae-min." Jin-ah's voice lowered, her eyes catching his, the intensity back. "I know you better than you think. You're not just good-looking—you've got a natural charm. People are drawn to you."
Jae-min snorted, running a hand through his messy hair. "Yeah, maybe people are drawn to my disaster of a wardrobe."
"True," she smirked, "but once you clean up, there's something about you. You don't see it, but others do. And I'm telling you—there's an audition coming up. A role that's perfect for you. It's small, but it could be the start of something bigger."
He leaned back on his hands, eyeing her warily. "You're not just saying this because you need a pretty face for the camera, right?"
Jin-ah rolled her eyes, but her expression softened as she moved closer. "If all I needed was a pretty face, I could find that anywhere," she replied, her voice turning more serious. "You're more than just good-looking, Jae-min. You've got something that makes people want to watch you—whether you see it or not." She paused, letting her words sink in before adding with a slight smirk, "But yes, your face does help."
Her words were casual and playful, but there was an intensity behind them, the kind she used when she wanted him to listen. It wasn't the first time Jin-ah had hinted at his potential, but this felt different. She wasn't suggesting it as a favor—she genuinely believed in him.
Jae-min leaned back, letting the idea settle. "Are you serious?"
"As serious as I can be," Jin-ah said, leaning in slightly, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. It was an intimate gesture, one that sent a ripple through the air between them. "You won't screw it up. You're going to charm the hell out of them, even if you don't realize it."
He smiled faintly, not at the audition idea, but at how much faith she seemed to have in him. It wasn't just about the role—it was the way Jin-ah always saw something more in him, something even he couldn't fully understand.
Their relationship had always been… unique. They had met years ago at one of his parents' social events, Jin-ah already an up-and-coming force in her family's chaebol empire. She'd taken an interest in him, first as a friend, then as something closer to a mentor. Over the years, that closeness deepened. While his parents remained distant, Jin-ah stepped in. She made sure he had what he needed—not just material things, but guidance, direction.
There was no blood relation between them, but sometimes it felt like she was the only family that mattered.
"Alright," Jae-min sighed, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'll give it a shot. But don't say I didn't warn you if I completely bomb it."
Jin-ah's smile widened, her hand lingering on his cheek for a moment too long. "You won't bomb it. You never do."
By the time Jae-min walked into the building for the audition, the nerves had settled into a calm hum beneath his skin. He looked at the reflective glass doors as he passed and couldn't help but admire himself. Casual, as usual—black jeans, a plain white shirt, and his signature confident stride. He raised an eyebrow at his own reflection, half-smirking at the absurdity of how good he looked despite the minimal effort.
"Guess I really am a narcissist," he muttered under his breath.
The hallway buzzed with activity. Other hopefuls, most of them younger or at least dressed like they were trying too hard, sat on the benches lining the corridor. Some were nervously mouthing lines to themselves, others flipping through scripts with furrowed brows. Jae-min, meanwhile, leaned casually against the wall, glancing occasionally at the polished floor as if it held the answer to all of life's problems. Unlike the others, he wasn't scrambling for perfection. His charm wasn't something that could be rehearsed.
Every now and then, he caught the side glances from the other auditionees, a mix of curiosity and envy. A couple of girls whispered to each other, sneaking glances at him as if wondering if he was a hidden idol here to sabotage their chances.
After what felt like an eternity, the door to the audition room creaked open, and a casting assistant stepped out, glancing around the room before her eyes landed on Jae-min.
"Jae-min? You're up," she said, her tone steady, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks as she looked at him.
Jae-min gave a small smile and a nod, pushing himself off the wall. "Thanks," he replied casually, walking past her. She quickly looked away, the slight color in her face barely noticeable, but not lost on him.
Jae-min entered the audition room, where a panel of casting directors sat behind a long table. Their eyes immediately found him as he stepped into the center. He caught a few subtle glances exchanged between them, the usual silent judgments that came with first impressions.
He just offered them a relaxed smile, slipping his hands into his pockets as he waited.
"Whenever you're ready," one of the directors said, motioning toward the small taped-off area where Jae-min was supposed to stand.
"Right," Jae-min muttered under his breath, taking the script they'd handed him earlier. It wasn't long—a few lines from what looked like a side character in some drama. He hadn't really prepared. Hell, he'd barely even glanced at the script.
He began reading, stumbling slightly over the first line but recovering quickly. It wasn't exactly the performance of a lifetime, but he could feel the shift in the room as he spoke. The lines started to blur, and instead of focusing on the words, he just… went with it.
And as he spoke, he let his natural charisma take over. His voice wasn't overly dramatic, but it had that easy-going tone that made people listen. His movements were unpolished but relaxed, confident in a way that said, I'm not trying too hard because I don't have to.
The directors exchanged a few glances but remained quiet, letting him finish the scene. When he finally delivered the last line, the room went silent.
For a moment, Jae-min wondered if he'd totally bombed it. But then one of the directors—an older man with sharp eyes—nodded slightly. "Thank you, Jae-min. We'll be in touch."
It wasn't a dismissal, but it wasn't a guarantee either. Still, Jae-min walked out feeling oddly at ease. He hadn't nailed every line, but he'd been himself, and from the look in their eyes, that might have been enough.
Later that evening, Jae-min dropped onto his couch, replaying the day's events in his head. His phone buzzed, and as expected, it was Jin-ah.
How did it go?
He smirked, shaking his head as he typed back. Why are you so confident? You're not pulling strings behind the scenes, are you?
Her reply came instantly. I don't need to pull strings. You've got the face, the charm. They'd be idiots not to see it.
Jae-min chuckled to himself. He could almost hear her voice through the message—completely sure of herself, and of him. For a second, he wondered if she really wasn't pulling some strings, but deep down, he knew better. Jin-ah didn't need to. She just had that kind of faith in him.
And maybe, just this once, he'd let himself believe it too.