Narae Arts High School.
A school primarily attended by celebrities and students aspiring to join the entertainment industry, with numerous ties to the world of show business woven throughout its structure.
The fall festival was no exception—it served as another link to the entertainment world.
While the festival booths in the morning resembled those of other high schools, the class performances in the afternoon were a different story. These performances drew the direct attention of entertainment industry professionals.
“They call it the gateway for rookies, don’t they?”
The festival was often referred to as the "Gateway for Rookies."
Many came to assess whether the budding talents on display held the potential to become stars. If a student was deemed "valuable," the groundwork for casting offers would often begin quietly behind the scenes.
This process wasn’t limited to unproven talents.
Even students who had already established themselves as entertainers found the fall festival an opportunity to gain even more recognition.
“Of course, you still have to stand out to make that happen.”
Having been in the entertainment industry for quite some time, Lee Geon-yeol and Lee Jun understood all too well how cutthroat the field could be. They were also keenly aware that only a select few would attract meaningful attention during the festival performances.
In the end, it all came down to how much someone stood out.
Only those who demonstrated superior skill and passion compared to their peers could capture the eyes of industry professionals and gain recognition.
Strictly speaking, Geon-yeol and Jun weren’t there for casting purposes; their main goal was to enjoy Ha-eun’s musical performance.
However, as professionals in the entertainment world and not just Ha-eun’s acquaintances, they couldn’t help but evaluate the overall performance level of the Narae Arts High students.
Is this what they call a professional hazard?
“...It’s really bothering me how they don’t pull the mic away when breathing.”
“Ugh, now you’ve got me noticing it too.”
As they watched the performances, their attention was drawn to small, technical details.
Finally, the announcer’s voice echoed through the auditorium, signaling the start of Ha-eun’s performance of Should We Fall Together?. Both of them straightened up in their seats.
At nearly the same moment, Jun pulled out his gimbal camera.
“Hmm, how should I shoot this to make it look good later...”
“Didn’t Yoon-seop tell you not to overthink it and just record?”
“Would it hurt to use a little zoom?”
“Just film it properly and don’t mess up.”
Footage from this musical performance—including a few of Ha-eun’s scenes—was slated to be included in the broadcast of Infinite Challenge Song Festival. Of course, all other students would be blurred out.
Jun’s gimbal camera was solely for capturing video clips to introduce the singer “Pinocchio.”
The agreement with Narae Arts High limited the filming to short highlight segments.
As the auditorium lights, dimmed just moments ago, began to gradually brighten—
“Oh? It’s starting!”
All that was left now was to sit back and watch.
***
“Your Majesty.”
Kyle’s call, soft and measured, resonated through the auditorium speakers as he finally found Empress Aria.
His voice held no urgency, only an unshakable calm, as if he could stand there indefinitely until she responded.
Gradually, the noble figure of Empress Aria turned toward him, her movements deliberate.
For a fleeting moment, a hint of recognition and warmth flashed in her eyes.
“It seems I still can’t escape your gaze, not then, not now.”
“The night air is cold. Let us return to the palace.”
“You’re as full of lectures as you were back then.”
The Empress’s steps, slow but deliberate, drew her closer to Kyle.
When she was within arm’s reach, she draped the fine fabric of her gown’s sleeve over his shoulder.
“I’d like to take a walk with you. Would that be alright?”
Her voice carried a faint, weary smile as she made her quiet request.
After a brief pause, Kyle finally nodded in agreement.
What followed was the Empress’s tale of her past.
From the blissful days of an untroubled childhood to the sudden death of the previous Emperor, and her reluctant rise to power.
Her story unfolded further, detailing the despair and helplessness that began to consume her as she was reduced to nothing more than a puppet for the nobles.
“If I said it couldn’t be helped, it would sound like an excuse. In the end, I always prioritized my safety over my people’s.”
Her voice, tinged with bitterness, matched the faint glimmer of life left in her weary eyes.
Kyle, unsure of how to console her, remained silent.
He simply listened, absorbing the quiet lament of Empress Aria.
Her steps slowed, then stopped entirely.
“Kyle.”
Her voice, laced with desperation, broke the silence as she gazed up at the dark night sky.
As the auditorium lights dimmed one by one, she spoke again, her voice barely audible.
“Do not abandon me. You are the only one who remembers who I was before I became a puppet.”
Her eyes, glistening faintly with unshed tears, sought solace in Kyle.
He responded with his usual calm tone, swearing his loyalty.
It wasn’t until then, with his unwavering voice in her ears, that Empress Aria allowed herself a faint smile.
The spotlight that had illuminated her now faded, signaling the end of the scene.
Moments later, as the lights rose again, the sound of the people’s song echoed through the auditorium.
The shadowy nobles who had corrupted the Empress’s name shifted their countless crimes onto her shoulders.
The starving citizens’ pain, despair, and hatred transformed into lyrics, all of it directed at Empress Aria.
“We can’t live like this anymore!”
“If this goes on, we’ll all starve to death!”
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“The Empress is a tyrant! A despot for the ages!”
The stage filled with the impoverished, their ragged forms and twisted expressions devoid of peace or joy.
Their venomous cries against the Empress rang out, unrelenting, until darkness overtook the stage once more.
When the lights returned, the Empress stood alone, her face devoid of even the faintest smile.
Beside her was Kyle, the sole person remaining at her side.
“It is just a song, Your Majesty. Mere voices filled with falsehoods. Pay them no mind.”
His voice carried a deep sense of sorrow, imploring the Empress not to let their words wound her.
“...No, their feelings are genuine.”
She rejected Kyle’s reassurance immediately, shaking her fragile head.
“They truly believe I am the root of all their suffering. And until their final breath, they will hate me with all their hearts.”
Her words painted a bleak picture: even a newborn child, and an elderly person taking their last breath, would despise her.
Her mournful voice spilled from the speakers, captivating the audience as they watched her every move in silence.
Her weak gestures and trembling voice conveyed her broken spirit with harrowing clarity.
“She really is... different.”
The audience was well aware that the actress portraying Empress Aria was Lee Ha-eun.
They had come to expect exceptional acting from her, based on her prior performances.
That belief held true as she delivered a masterful portrayal of the Empress.
For those who remembered Ha-eun as the singer Pinocchio, her greatly improved vocal skills drew as much attention as her acting.
But as the story progressed—
“Find the Empress!”
“That vile woman must be removed from this world!”
“Down with the tyrant!”
As the rebellion’s cries grew louder and the citizens stormed the palace, the audience’s focus shifted.
Empress Aria, overwhelmed by their fury, crumbled onstage, her voice heavy with despair.
“I only wanted to live. We all did. Why... why did it come to this?”
The weight of her words settled over the room, and the audience found themselves drawn deeper into the tragic tale.
“Flee, Your Majesty. I will hold them off as long as I can.”
Kyle, his uniform stained with blood, his arms covered in cuts, stood firm.
Despite his injuries, he pledged himself to protect her.
Empress Aria, seeing the only person who had stood by her, rose to her feet.
She walked slowly toward him, step by step.
“Y-Your Majesty...?”
As she drew close enough for their breaths to mingle—
—Shrrk.
The long blade at Kyle’s waist was drawn by her trembling hands.
Before he could stop her, she turned the blade toward herself, forcing his hands to hold its hilt.
“Take my life with this sword. Raise it high, and become a hero to the people. That is... your only path to survival.”
Her voice, calm but unwavering, revealed her final wish.
For Kyle, the one who had stayed with her to the end, this was the only gift she could offer.
She guided the blade to her throat, the sharp edge pressing against her pale neck.
In that instant, Kyle, with a sudden surge of strength, hurled the sword away.
Her eyes widened in shock, trembling as she pleaded.
“No... Kyle. If you don’t kill me, you will die as well!”
Even as she resigned herself to death, she begged for Kyle’s survival.
But—
“Let’s run, Your Majesty. To a place where no one can find us.”
Kyle, resolute in his decision, refused to leave her.
“You’ll be hunted... for the rest of your life.”
The audience was left stunned by the palpable shift in the atmosphere.
Ha-eun’s performance was familiar, yet strange.
Something about it was entirely new—raw, visceral, and hauntingly real.