It was just a normal day. Cloudy, kind of lazy. One of those days you start off in an old shirt, a messy ponytail held up with a red hair tie, and a coffee that didn’t really wake you up — it just kept you company.
You were about to sit down and watch the first cut of Escaping from Hell, your animated series. After months of work — writing, rewrites, voice casting, studio meetings, last-minute edits — it had all come down to this: a video file with your name in the opening credits. A little terrifying, a little exciting.
You wanted to watch it alone, in peace, no distractions.
But obviously, that wasn’t going to happen.
Your phone buzzed.
Rachel.
Your sister.
You sighed before picking up. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to her, but if she was calling instead of texting, it meant something was coming.
— “Hey, are you coming to the Squid Game event or not?”
You frowned, staring at your reflection in the black TV screen.
Oh. Right.
The series had ended. Big closing event. Red carpet. Interviews. Flashy outfits. Loud conversations. Way too many people.
Rachel had been one of the main cast members. So… why not go?
Besides, she asked you. And you — well, you were a lot of things, but you weren’t the kind of person to say no to her.
— “Fine. But don’t make me talk to anyone,” you muttered while lacing up your boots.
Hours later, you were there. In the middle of it all — blinding lights, expensive perfumes, glossy lips, and people who smiled too much for it to be real.
You stuck close to Rachel like she was a shield against the chaos.
She kept introducing you to people with a proud grin on her face. Some recognized you. Others just nodded politely. You smiled, nodded back, said thank you when people mentioned your work, but really, you were counting down the minutes until you could find a quiet corner and a glass of something cold.
— “Come on, don’t make that face,” Rachel laughed, tugging at your arm. “I’m gonna introduce you to someone you’ll actually like.”
— “Another Colgate smile celebrity?” you mumbled.
— “Don’t be an ass,” she shot back with a grin.
Then she pulled you in front of someone.
You didn’t realize who he was right away.
He was a bit shorter than you expected. More… real. But there was something about the way he stood — calm, grounded — that made it obvious he wasn’t just anyone.
Yim Si-wan.
You’d seen him a million times. Dramas, films, interviews. He had that quiet kind of presence that didn’t demand attention, but somehow always got it.
Rachel beamed and made the introduction with that proud tone she always used when talking about you:
— “Yim Si-wan! This is my brother!” she said brightly. “You probably know him from his role in Stranger Things.”
You tried to look chill — even though your ponytail was probably uneven and your bangs were a mess thanks to the wind or your own nervous fingers.
Yim Si-wan smiled and gave a small nod, lifting his hand in a casual, polite wave.
— “Nice to meet you, I’m Yim Si-wan.”
His voice was soft, almost musical. And that smile — it didn’t look rehearsed. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He was just… normal. In the best possible way.