My name is Ahn Heeyeon.



I am known as "Hani" by most of the people around me, as I only let a few close friends and relatives call me by my real name. Well, also, because it was the screen name my manager gave me. But that's another story I'll tell you all later, instead.


In my twenty-three years of existence in this spinning sphere we call Earth, I'd say I don't have any regrets with the decisions I made and spending all my efforts working all day and all night, because with that, I got not exactly what I wanted, but it's all I'll ever be needing.




My dream when I was younger was to become a psychologist, or a guidance counselor. I even took Psychology for that. But with all the sudden U-turns and plot twists the world has to show and give, I now work as a model. A slightly famous one, at that. It never once crossed my mind to become one, but due to desperateness, I've decided, for a good two hours, to accept whatever was offered of me to do.
 

Being a model isn't just posing for the cameras and smiling for the paparazzi.

It isn't just about wearing colorful, trendy clothes.

Not just about the number of likes and comments on your photos.

It's also about the pain on your feet whenever you wear 5-inched heels and sleepless nights where you have to comply to the given schedule.

About the heavy make-up you have to wear 24 hours a day. About all the will-power you'll have to use in order to stop yourself from eating all the "bad", "nasty", "unhealthy" food to maintain good body.

I hate my manager so much for giving me a diet plan. All the plans you’ll have to conduct just to eat that chocolate angel cake on the kitchen counter. AND DAMN, I WANT THAT BURGER, RIGHT NOW! 



But if it wasn't for all that work and sufferings, I wouldn't be able to meet my girlfriend; the milk-skinned "MaeBori", Park Junghwa.




I met that angel when I walked the runway on one of the fashion shows around her school.

I believe she was walking home from school, still in her uniform (red skirts and blazers over white long-sleeved shirts) when a student who was rushing out their building knocked her down by bumping to her. And, being a helpful person I am helped her stand up and gather her things, all in my orange thigh cut, strapless and backless dress and studded 4-inched heels.

As cliché and romantic (or so I'd like to believe it is) our first meeting seems to be, my manager really wasn't glad to hear I rushed out the backstage when I saw her on the ground. So she apologized when manager oppa stopped scolding me, and asked me if she could treat me lunch sometime instead. 
 

"I-I'm really sorry, Hani-ssi. You shouldn't have had done that." She said, rubbing the back of her neck and looking down onto the floor. “Your manager must be really mad at me.”

“N-no! Don’t say sorry. It’s practically my fault to just rush out like that, without asking permission from the staffs. But d