Dressed for Revenge: It's the Idol's Turn

You got that?

The crowd cheers as their all-time favorite idol, Yoona, finished her last song. Their loud screaming can almost tear one's ear drums. "Everyone, thank you for coming!" she blared through the arena, "I hope to see you again!" Gazing at the crowd, she's overfilled with love. Diverse people come to her concerts, from young teenagers to divorced men, it may be weird but who cares. She loves them all. The beaming lights throughout the arena makes everyone in the crowd sparkle, sort of like the stars in the galaxy at a bright night. She can't help but smile lovingly as she waves and takes it all in—all these people, coming here just to see her.

As the lights turn off and the only sound heard was trash being picked up by the janitors, Yoona's performance came to an end. She went backstage to get all the sticky makeup removed from her and to change into her yoga pants and zip-up jacket. The end of a performance usually makes her feel so... empty. The high she gets from performing and seeing her beloved fans only last a couple minutes as every show has to end, after all. Now she just feels like there's a void, sunken deep into her chest, as if swallowing every little bit of dopamine she had during the show.

She sighed as she opened the door to her backstage room. Plopping down on the couch covered with unfolded clothes, she rests her head on the arm chair as she took a nap. There were other people in the room, though. For every performance, there's always a lot of people involved in the making. Makeup artists, stylists, managers, and hair stylists all clumped up in this very room.

"Miss? Miss Yoon?" a ladylike voice woke her up. As she got a proper look at the girl, it was Haerin, her makeup stylist. "Miss Yoon, we have to get you properly dressed first," she spoke softly, "and return your outfit. It costs as much as my pay check." she chuckles. Yoon laughs a bit too, "Alright, alright, I'll get up."

As she was getting dressed in her private room, she heard a knock on her door. Just as she wondered who it may be, a voice coming from a man echoed through the door. "Yoon, can we talk for a little bit?" She opened the door to see her manager, a 50s something guy wearing a suit. His tie looks a little bit worn out , his eye more opened than the other, with a crooked smile laid on his face. Fuck. It's going to happen again.

She let him in the small room, planting a fake smile to make him feel welcomed, only for the sole reason of not wanting to lose her job. She can't let everything she worked hard for crumble into pieces just because she couldn't control her temper. "Yeah, sure. What's up?" she spoke. "I was wondering why you didn't follow through your script earlier." "What?" she replied. "Earlier. When you were talking to the audience." She scratched the back of her neck as she awkwardly said, "Oh. Well, I just think that we should be more... natural. Y'know? Wouldn't want them to think I'm some robot or something." She looked away.

She could feel his unnerving gaze upon her. It was so uncomfortable, being in this small compressed room with this weird guy. It's the same feeling when an old drunk cat-calls you on the street, that same uncomfortable feeling. "You can't just do what you fucking want around here." He steps closer, "You got that?" Yoon clenches her jaw, "Yes sir." Not even a second after, he landed a slap on her face, causing her to stumble back for a few steps. "You fucking got that?" She looked back, though she's now enraged with a burning anger, she smiled eerily. "Yes, sir."

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"Good work today!" She greeted her coworkers goodbye as she stepped out of the building. The cold and crisp night air greets her, a breathe of freshness after a long day, and... getting slapped by her boss. City lights engulfing the night sky, tall buildings surrounding the area. She ponders on what to do next, and she decided on heading to the convenience store for a little treat. But first, she puts on a face mask to cover up, she may love her fans but she's incredibly tired today. She can't handle any more.

Ding Dong

Cute dings blares through the convenience store as she walks in. "Good evening, miss." Greets the cashier. Yoon greets back before she continues on getting her things. 'Where... where is it...' As she scrolls through the items on the racks. She halts as she spots the treat she wanted, sour candy!

Beep, beep. "Is this all, ma'am?" The cashier asked to confirm. "Yup. Here." Yoon hands her card for the cashier to scan it. As the bag was about to be handed to her, the cashier widely opened his eyes and gasps.
"Yoona! You're Yoona!" He says in shock. "Haha, yes. Hi!" She tried to be polite. "Unnie, can i take a picture with you?" The male cashier asked as he hands out his phone eagerly. Idols can't be photographed outside work, "I'm sorry, but I can't." She bows slightly as to apologize. The cashier puts his phone back in his pocket disappointed. As she got her things, she could see the taste of detestation on his face. Sigh, this is why she doesn't want people to recognize her in public when she's just out on her own, living her life.

Beep boop, as she heads out of the convenience store. But just before the automatic doors closed in, she heard some mumbling.

"What a bitch. She's too full of herself."

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She stares at the ceiling while laying on her bed. Nights like this are quiet, maybe too quiet for her liking. You see, when there's nothing else to distract her, her mind fills itself with weight crushing things. At this dark time, where only quiet honks of cars down below can be heard, and where only the city lights can be seen, she tends to overthink. Overthink about everything—life, her job, friends, and most of all herself. A tear rolls down her cheek as she recalls her boss slapping her. What did she do to deserve this? What's worse is that she literally can't do anything to defend herself too. Fight back? He could turn the story around and get you fired. Speak up? People will think she's lying and "too problematic". There's nothing else she can do but suck it up, like the small, weak, and puny woman she is in this industry.

Beep. The sound of her cellphone brought her back to reality. She picks up the lit phone and reads the message sent to her,

"F: I know what happened. Let me help you." She stared blankly at the message before her.

Who was this?