[CONTENTID1] My Love From The Stars [/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2] 

"Aishhhh...I'm so tired from yesterday's shoot..." I groaned, pressing my head against the window. "I hate everything...why do I have to go to class? It's not like I go anyways..."

"It's a way of recovering your image...you've had too much 'SNS' scandals...before you had the oppa next door image, now people know you as the 'Mokwha' man..." manager-hyung responded.

"Mokwha?? They're still not over that?!!!" I exclaimed, leaning away from the recliner. 

"Who can ever get over that? It was quite funny," the stylist snickered. 

"Yah!!! It's not funny!! It was a mistake, okay?!!!" 

"Sorry..." she apologized, lowering her head. 

We drove through a long, wide highway that consisted of many cars and lanes. I don't even know what time my class is, but judging from the traffic, we're going to be super late. 

"There's going to be cameras there to film you," manager hyung said. 

"What?!" 

"The PR team suggested to invite the crew of KBS Entertainment Weekly, so that you can show the 'humble and studious' side of you in the public.."

"Which is?"

"Going to class and behaving like a regular student..." 

"But...but...I look like utter crap right now! I'm not ready to face the cameras...and...I just ate ramen last night...my face is bloated...and I think I got a pimple...” I whined, trying to get a glimpse of my face in the rearview mirror.

“Do you want to improve your image?” the manager asked, turning towards a big building.

“I do.”

“Then get over it.”

“How can you talk to me like that? I’m the big shot here!” I retorted.

“Oh Jung Yunho...”

“Anyways,” I said, glancing to the stylist with the pigtails. “I want you to make my face look good in the camera. Cover my zits and everything with all that makeup stuff, and pretty much do photoshop on my face.”

“Okay, I’ll get right to it.”

~

The campus was humongous, with its castle looking exterior and big fields of grass. There’s a bunch of students flocking around, filling the grounds. I majored in Psychology, so I had to learn how to get my way around. It pretty much took me almost an hour to get to the proper campus, since I haven’t been here for six months.

I could tell I was a celebrity, just judging from all the unneeded attention I’m getting. I’m not going to act humble about it, obviously I’m going to acknowledge that I’m freakin’ famous. But at the same time, I kind of wanted to lay low.

“Hi, I’m Jung Yunho...lots of people think I’m you know...a star...but you know, just like ever twenty-three-year-old...I go to college,” I said, looking into the camera, widening my grin.

To be honest, I meant none of these words. This was all from a script. If I was making a million dollars a year, why would I need to suffer in class? What kind of logic was that?

“And since I’m so humble, I don’t even bother to wear anything designer. You know, a man like me doesn’t need too much stuff. I prefer wearing a simple get up haha.”

None of this was true. I loved luxury goods and 500, 000 won jeans. Why would I dress like a rag?

“So Jung Yunho-ssi, what do you most like about college?” the reporter asked.

“Well, I really like to learn. No, I love it!” I said with the fakest enthusiasm.

“Wow, that’s rare for celebrities!”

“Well, just because I value education...since education is needed for Korea to prosper!! Without people going to University, we wouldn’t get employees for Samsung, which means that we won’t get the newest phone models!” Now those were genuine words.

My manager palmed his face, seeming embarrassed by my statement. What was he so embarrassed about? I was speaking of the truth!

“You...you’re right Jung Yunho!” the reporter chuckled.

“I know I am.”

“Script...go with the script!” manager hyung mouthed, narrowing his eyes.

“Anyways Jung Yunho, how is your skin is so good?”

“Oppa you’re good looking!” the girl squealed.

“Thanks!” I yelled out. “Well, I basically live on apples and lettuce. And I use the Missha face wash, and the essence, and the moisturiser...and of course, I take protofol!”

The whole crowd gasped as their eyes widened, seeming surprised by what I had just said. Did I say anything weird? I just said my skin routine. Did it leave them that stunned?

“Um...what he meant was profolis!!! A vitamin!! Perfect for your skin!!!” my manager interjected, stepping in my shot.

“Ohhhhhh!!!” the reporter said, nodding.

“You know Yunho and his jokes,” the manager chuckled. “Please edit it out,” he whispered.

Protofol, profolis sounded the exact same. How was I supposed to know the difference? I continued to roam in the crowd as the cameras hovered at my face.

I thought about the next line in the script, which said to approach some random student to make it seem like I was down to earth and approachable.

“Oh hi...hoobae-nim!!” I said, pulling some random guy’s arm towards me. “How have you been?!!!”

“Um...” he said, looking totally taken aback. “I’m...I’m good, you?”

“I’m pretty great!!!” I said, faking a smile as I nudged his shoulder. “I’ll promise you to get some drinks, okay?!!!!!”

“Oh...kay...”

Then, I let him go, letting him out of the camera shot as the whole crew turned around. We were nearing the building with every step. I hoped my makeup hadn’t melted off. My stylist did put a lot of BB cream to fake this ‘healthy’ glow of my skin. Honestly that Missha stuff I got a life supply of wasn’t working. It was all a scam, just like this documentary.

“Wow Jung Yunho, you are so friendly!” the reporter remarked.

“Of course I am!! I love being friends with everybody!!!!” I said in the most cringeworthiest way. Whatever, the media pretty much eats up everything that I say.

“Cut!!” the PD ordered.

The light crew started to put their equipment away, along with the camera crew. Sighs of relief were to be heard.
 

“Was I good?” I asked, pointing at myself.

“Yes you were. Very believable,” the manager said. “Well, kinda.”

“I was born to be an actor.”

“Go to class now, you can’t be late or it’ll ruin your image. We’ll move the cameras and stuff, so you go ahead okay?” the manager asked.

“Okay...” I said, soon heading to the door.

A bunch of girls were pretty much following as if I’m some magnet. Some boys were following me too, obviously not as much as girls though.

“Oh look, it’s botox brain,” the guy with the large framed glasses sneered, causing me to give a long, hard stare at him.

“Do you want to die?” I mouthed, not trying to say it out loud since I can’t afford to ruin my image.

He’s probably just jealous that I’m getting all the girlies, and he’s getting none.

“Omo! Oppa~~can I get your autograph?!” another girl asked.

 Then another asked. Pretty much, all of them were flocking in my direction. There were so much girls that I couldn’t breath. Phones were hovering, shuttering flashes. I had to live my life like this, every single day. But it’s not like I minded, since it proved that I was relevant.

“Jung Yunho! Look this way!!” a photographer yelled.

How the hell did a photographer get in here?! Did the PR team call him or what?

“Girls, make way!! I’m going to take shots of Jung Yunho for Dispatch’s Front Page!!” the photographer cried, shoving himself in the crowd.

The girls ended up whining as the photographer cut in, blocking their way from touching the God.

“Yunho, pose like a student!!”

How the hell was I supposed to do that?

“Pretend this is candid!!” he ordered.

Why was he expecting so much from me? All I wanted to do was go home and practice my script, school was so not my calling.

But then like a robot, I did what I was told as I try to look good for the camera. Hopefully this photographer takes my good angles. I’m kind of insecure with the left side of my face, so I hope he didn’t capture that.

“Um,” I said at the girl. “Where’s Mr. Kim?” I asked, trying to seek for the proper door.

“Mr Kim?! Oppa, are you asking me?!” she asked, gasping.

“Yeah,” I grunted as another girl forced herself on me.

“Over...over there...” she pointed diagonally.

“Thanks,” I said, waving my hand to her.

The girl ended up screaming, her octaves higher than Mariah Carey’s,

I made my way into the door, soon shutting it in front of the fan’s faces. To my horror, all of their faces were smooshed on the glass. Aigoo, people are so scary. From here, their screams remained loud as ever.

It seems that the teacher’s not here, judging from the empty podium. And pretty much, everyone seemed chill...well, until I came here.

As I went over to my little booth, people started to look at me as if I’m some weird, alien creature. Did I draw that much attention? I sat at the seat next to the window, trying to look mysterious as I refrained myself from talking to anybody. The CEO did say I have to maintain my ‘mysterious’ image.

“He’s only here because of special treatment...do you think he can even write an entrance with the brain of his? I bet he can’t even spell his whole name,” the boy from behind me whispered.

I seriously wanted to punch whoever was slandering me. Of course I could spell my name! How do you think I sign autographs? With numbers? What a . Maybe you’re the one getting botox in your brain!
 

More whispers arose, making me totally peeved. I just wanted to leave this room and get on with my life.

The door swings open as a guy with a suit enters the room. He looked pretty peeved with the crowd outside the door as he casted a scowl upon them. He slammed the door and then fixed his tie like a boss.

Wait a minute.

This guy looks oddly