Chapter 12.1

Chapter 12.1

[Shock! Top Star Geummi in a Coma!
A Star of the Stage Collapses at the Hospital.
“We Believe in Miracles” — Fans Hold All-Night Vigils Outside

On the night of XX last month, top star Geummi, who had just finished recording her new album, suffered a severe head injury in an unexpected accident while returning home and was rushed to the hospital. She has yet to regain consciousness and remains in a coma.

A representative from her agency stated, “There are signs that she was struck forcefully on the head, and her condition is still critical.” Meanwhile, police are investigating possible suspects who may have held a grudge against the singer…]

My hands trembled as I held the magazine. The two-page “Geummi Special” began with her current condition, then detailed the events of that night once again.

Nothing had been stolen from my handbag, so it wasn’t likely a robbery. The article speculated it might have been the work of a deranged fan who had stalked me for years. Below that were photos of my agency’s CEO, my manager, and the choreographer who had practiced with me that night, all looking stricken. Next to them, a photo showed fans praying with clasped hands outside the hospital.

My nose stung, and my eyes filled with hot tears. I ran my fingers slowly over the page.

I’m right here, everyone. Here, in this ridiculous place, trapped in a body that isn’t mine.

“Unnie, why are you crying? Did Geummi die?”

Eyes suddenly leaned over and asked. My glare shot up instantly. Die? Who the hell’s dead? I’m right here, wide awake and alive.

Despite my sharp look, Eyes seemed far more interested in the magazine page I was holding.

“Oh wow, it says she’s in a coma? Why?”

“…Some bastard hit her in the head.”

“Oh, how awful. Tsk tsk. Though honestly, she always had a bad face for luck.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

The words burst out of me before I could stop them, but Eyes just ignored me, pointing to a photo on the page where I posed in a sultry outfit.

“There’s that sly look under her eyes… I knew it from the way she danced, bellybutton out, hips swinging—totally the kind who brings trouble. She’s the kind of face with ‘hongyeomsal’ written all over it. Bet she messed with a taken man and paid for it.”

What does she know… I snorted and shot Eyes a glare, but I had no good comeback. My love life was messy, after all. I’d heard as much.

“The closest person to you is the culprit.”

The unfamiliar voice sent a chill down my arm. It sounded eerily like the day someone told me I’d die the moment I left here.

Gooseflesh prickled my skin as I asked dumbly, “…What did you say, Goyo?”

As always, Eyes was looking at me with those crossed eyes, which gleamed oddly and made me shiver. Her skewed gaze slid down to the magazine and pointed with her forefinger. There, in the photo spread, were the agency boss, my manager, and the choreographer.

“There’s your culprit, right there. One of those three knows who put the hole in your head.”

Kim Mansu, Manager Hongbae, Choi Cheol.

They’d all been with me since my debut.

The agency boss was stingy to the point of pettiness, the kind who micromanaged even the wardrobe team’s socks. Still, I was the golden goose pulling in the money. There was no way he’d stab me in the back.

My manager Hongbae was always exhausted from running my schedule. If anyone held a grudge, it would be from the workload he himself assigned. He wasn’t the type with the guts to crack someone over the skull. If anything, he’d probably knock himself out first.

Then there was Choreographer Cheol. Honestly, he was the one I butted heads with most. I’d often improv when a song moved me and that caused friction with the dance team. But those were passionate disagreements between people who loved dance, not grudges that would lead someone to swing an iron bar at my head.

And besides, Eyes said so.

“So what you’re saying is, one of these three knows who did it?”

Not that one of them is the culprit.

Wait… isn’t that basically the same thing? If they knew who it was, why keep quiet? They should’ve gone straight to the police. Unless… they were in on it too.

“Eyes, say it again. You’re sure these three aren’t the culprit?”

When I pointed at the photo, Eyes blinked her big, crooked eyes at me.

“Huh? What are you talking about, unni?”

She blinked a few more times, scratched her ear, and shuffled back to her spot like nothing happened.

Figures. What was I expecting? Believing someone who ended up here for conning people about seeing ghosts… that was on me. Even if what she said had sounded a little too real.

I looked down at the magazine again. My face, bright and perfect, sat beside the three men’s heavy, drawn expressions. I’d finally gotten news about “Geummi,” but it didn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it made my chest feel tighter, heavier.

With a sigh, I closed the magazine and slid it between my pillow and blanket.

Was I giving up? Not a chance. I’d just remembered what I needed to do next.

“Touching a little won’t make it wear out. What’s the point of guarding that body like it’s holy? You’re a woman. Use what you’ve got!”

Someone had said that to me once.

Though I couldn’t remember who. Maybe it wasn’t even my memory. Maybe it belonged to Ham Yeohee. The longer I stayed in this body, the more our memories started to blur together.

Still, whoever said it had a point. I wasn’t rich, and I wasn’t strong like Wangnyeo. Inside this prison, I didn’t have much to work with, and right now, I needed help.