Chapter 22
“Wow.”
What insane talent.
I’m becoming a Rozena fan starting today.
I love you, unni.
‘Honestly, when she first appeared, I was just amazed by how pretty she was.’
But the moment she opened her mouth, her looks didn’t matter anymore.
‘At this level, she could perform wearing a sack of fur and still lose nothing.’
The way she portrayed someone living in terror of the ghost that awakens at night—
It was unbelievably good.
I had so, so much fun watching.
But.
‘That’s that, and work is work.’
Right after a show ends, when people are frozen in their emotional afterglow, that’s exactly when I need to move.
“This way?”
I slipped out between the audience—first slack-jawed and dazed, then suddenly exploding into wild cheers—and the imperial knights on edge guarding the stage, and headed for the dressing rooms.
I stopped in front of the door labeled Rozena, pressed my ear to it, focused for a moment.
Empty.
I went inside.
‘Today is opening night, and the show was a huge, indisputable success.’
Even someone like me—completely clueless in this field—could tell Rozena was incredible. Hard to believe she’s someone being tormented by a reporter.
So if that reporter is the one blackmailing her…
Then now, with Rozena’s value at its peak right after the show, he’ll definitely come to shake her.
‘When someone doesn’t want to let go of what they’re holding…’
Muttering internally, I hid behind a rack overflowing with costumes beside the vanity.
Dozens of voluminous dresses hung there, with several hats stacked on top. Hiding among them, I looked like just another lump of fabric.
Just in case, I pulled Arden’s uniform jacket over my head.
No sooner had I settled in place than—
Clack!
“What do you expect me to do?!”
A woman’s voice rang sharply through the room.
Moments later, Rozena entered, her forehead drenched in sweat.
A few glossy red-gold strands of hair had come loose and were sticking to her skin. Her hand swept them back with agitation.
“I’m not expecting anything in particular from you, Miss Rozena.”
Trailing behind her, smiling as if amused, was—
A small man.
No cravat, just a simple shirt, workman’s shoes like a dock laborer might wear, a worn bag slung over his shoulder, and a notebook wedged under his arm.
His frame looked so small that even a push from my finger might knock him over—but his eyes were bright.
Not in a pleasant way.
‘So he’s the reporter.’
He closed the door and hitched up his bag—far heavier than his thin build suggested.
Excitement radiated off him, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“What is there to do? I simply came to inform you in advance.”
“Why are you doing this to me?!”
In contrast, Rozena looked nothing like the woman who had dominated the stage just minutes ago.
She looked unstable.
She clutched her head in her hands, then her arms, then crossed them protectively—unable to keep still.
“What did I ever do to you? Did your favorite actress lose her job because of me? Is it money? Do you need money? Is that why you’re doing this? I told you to just tell me what you want! I’d give you anything! Just—just stop threatening me and SAY it! Right now!”
…This is awkward.
Should I even be watching this?
I’m here to learn what happened, but still—
Watching someone else break down like this, raw and exposed… I feel guilty.
It doesn’t feel good.
“Oh dear, Miss Rozena. You’re misunderstanding.”
His soft reply contrasted harshly with her panic.
“I’m not doing this because I hold anything against you. Personally, I’m a fan. I’m doing this for the citizens’ right to know.”
“A… right? A right?”
“Yes, a right.”
He paused for dramatic effect.
“The citizens want to know what kind of person their beloved actress Rozena truly is. I have a duty to satisfy their curiosity. That’s why I’m doing this.”
“And that’s… the people’s right? To dig through every detail of my past?”
“Exactly.”
“Heh.”
A hollow laugh escaped Rozena. She covered her eyes with a hand.
“Then… what about my rights? My right to protect secrets I don’t want the world to know?”
“Well. I’ve never heard of such a right.”
“……”
“I came today to inform you that the article on Miss Rozena is finished and will be published on the front page of next Wednesday’s Imperial Daily.”
“Wednesday…”
“Yes. Five days from now.”
“……”
“And for reference, bribing our newspaper’s director again won’t help. The photos are with me. Sending people to ransack my home won’t work either. I’ve planned for all of that.”
“……”
“There is one possibility, though.”
He grinned.
“I know a gentleman who is quite a fan of yours. If you would meet him privately, well… my heart might change.”
“…I can’t do that. That would be an insult to the profession I love.”
“Well then, nothing to be done.”
“……”
“It would be wise to prepare yourself, Miss Rozena.”
No matter what you attempt, it’ll all be useless, so give up.
His tone said exactly that.
Rozena said nothing.
She turned her back, braced herself on the vanity, staring downward, teeth clenched.
Her slender hands, gripping the vanity’s edge, trembled violently.
The reporter watched her reflection with a delighted sort of interest, adjusted his bag, and said,
“Well then, I’ll take my leave.”
He didn’t linger. He turned immediately and left the dressing room.
The moment he did, Rozena grabbed the small hand mirror on the table.
Her well-manicured nails turned white from how hard she gripped it.
She angled her head, staring at the reporter’s retreating profile—
His careless expression, smiling faintly as he flipped open his notebook.
Rozena spun around sharply, mirror raised.
I didn’t think—
I just rushed out.
“!”
I grabbed a cloak hanging on the rack and threw it over Rozena’s head.
Blinded, she stumbled.
The reporter noticed nothing and shut the door behind him.
Click.
“Miss Rozena, calm down.”
Once the door closed, I finally spoke.
“I understand how you feel, but hitting him with a hand mirror won’t kill him. And also—”
I gently seated the struggling Rozena onto the sofa and took the mirror from her hands.
“If you’re going to hurt someone, hurt the reporter. Why aim it at yourself?”
Because I saw it.
At the very last moment, she had turned the mirror toward herself.
Even in this state, she couldn’t conceive of killing him, or burning down the newspaper, or anything drastic.
That reporter chose his target very well.
“Who are you?!”
Rozena shouted from under the cloak.
Well.
Who am I?
“A fan?”
Anyway, not important.
“What exactly is going on?”
She must truly be at her limit.
Even with a stranger—(a fan hiding in her dressing room, creepy!)—putting a cloak over her head, she just sat there.
“Tell me what’s happening.”
“…I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to!”
“I don’t want to! I said NO!” she screamed.
But—
“It’ll all be public in five days anyway.”
I shook the hand mirror I’d taken from her, then remembered she couldn’t see and set it quietly beside us.
“……”
“……”
We must look ridiculous.
One wearing a cloak, the other with a uniform jacket on their head.
Like kids under blankets telling secrets at sleepovers.
I soothed her gently as she panted.
“It won’t make anything worse if one person finds out a little early. Tell me what happened.”
“……”
“You might feel a little better after saying it.”
“You think telling a stalker who was hiding in my dressing room will make me feel better?”
“…I apologize.”
“…Forget it.”
Everything will be over next week anyway.
She sighed bitterly, inhaled deeply.
Silence.
Then suddenly—
“That reporter is Skitter from the Imperial Daily.”
“Oh, that guy?”
“Yeah. That Skitter.”
I know him.
Skitter of the Imperial Daily culture section.
He’ll do anything to get a story.
He’s exposed dozens of famous actresses—for adultery, gambling, even murder.
If even I know him, he must be truly notorious. I’ve heard he’s often invited to elite salons just to spill gossip about celebrities.
“Good, you already know. Saves time. Dozens of actresses have crashed and burned because of him. And now his next target is me. What he plans to reveal is…”
“What?”
Go on, Rozena.
What crime do you have that stands alongside adultery, gambling, and murder?
“When I was young… I used to be fat.”
“……”
And?
