I saw my father, (my manager) standing in front of the scale. His eyes were scrutinizing me like I was a product that needed adjustments.
I stepped forward hesitantly, my feet barely moving. I stood on the scale, breathing slowly.
46 kilograms. I felt a brief moment of relief, but my father's gaze shattered it before it could take root.
"40 kilograms within a week. Do you understand?"
"But I…"
He cut me off with a harsh tone.
"That's not what I want."
There was no way out. My head lowered instinctively, and I mumbled softly,
"Yes… sir."
I turned and walked to my room, his voice trailing behind me.
"You have a photoshoot in an hour. Get ready."
After showering, I sat on my bed and opened my phone to scroll through listagram. I came across a post by 'Lee Yohan', the ambassador for the global brand Kilten.
He stood there with a radiant smile, surrounded by his friends. I browsed through the rest of his photos, most of them featuring his family and friends. He looked happy. Truly happy.
I wondered: Is he pretending?
I smile in all my posts too. I seem happy, perfect… but I'm not.
And why don't I have friends? Yohan has plenty…
My parents say they're a waste of time and that friends are useless. Maybe they're right… or maybe they're not.
"Jaeyoon, come quickly!!"
My father's angry voice startled me. Panicked, I ran toward him.
I had forgotten all about the photoshoot!
____
"Hey, kid… Keep your expression steady! Don't smile!"
The photographer's sharp voice snapped me back to reality. I tried hard to maintain a stoic face, but it was harder than I thought, especially when my eyes met my father's. He was frowning, as usual, as if his face didn't know how to smile.
"Take a break… We'll continue later."
The photographer's frustrated words saved me from my failed attempts. The staff quickly pulled me backstage to rest. I sat on a nearby chair, staring at myself in the mirror framed with lights. My reflection was lifeless, expressionless… like an empty shell.
The silence in the room was broken by the sound of my father's footsteps. He entered with his usual commanding presence, walking straight toward me.
"What's wrong? You're unfocused. Is something the matter? Or are you just trying to embarrass me in front of everyone?"
My heart sank in my chest. "No, Father… I'm sorry. I was just distracted. I don't know what's wrong with me. Once the break is over, I'll do my best and perform better."
He looked at me for a moment before giving a faint smile and patting my hair. "Good… That's my son. Now, take a break."
He left the room, and with him went the smile I had tried so hard to keep. I didn't want to disappoint him. I didn't want him to think I wasn't enough.
A few moments later, one of the staff members approached me to fix my hair. I knew time was running out; the break was short—barely five minutes.
As soon as she finished, another staff member came to guide me back to the photoshoot area.
The lights surrounded me once more, shining so brightly they almost blinded me. Even though I was used to them, the pressure didn't lessen.
The photographer barked his orders loudly.
"Lift your chin a bit… Lean back… No, not like that! Hold the pose!"
Every pose he requested felt uncomfortable. My body felt like a machine being forced into positions it didn't want to take.
Between shots, I glanced over at my father. He stood there, watching me with a faint smile. I felt a bit of relief; he's proud of me, isn't he?
The photoshoot dragged on for another half hour before the photographer finally announced, "Alright, that's enough for today."
I left with my father and our driver, my mind heavy with exhaustion. But the sound of fans brought me back for a moment. They had gathered outside the studio, cheering my name enthusiastically. I smiled at them with gratitude and waved lightly.
"Did the schedule leak today?" I heard my father speaking angrily on the phone after we got into the car. "We found the press and fans waiting for us as we left."
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the cold window of the car. I was utterly exhausted. I needed a short nap before we reached home.
The driver gently woke me up when we arrived. I dragged myself upstairs to my room, collapsing onto my bed. Grabbing my phone from the table, I opened the camera and took a few pictures to post on listagram.
I wrote under them, "I miss you all. Love you."
I hit the post button, then set my phone to silent. I didn't want to hear the notifications for comments and messages. I closed my eyes again, but sleep felt far away… very far away.