Irene slams her phone on a plastic table in the press room, catching the heads of some 10 reporters still there, typing away.  She received a mouthful of profanities from an editor after the rival network’s reporter, Wendy Shon outscooped her over a story her news company has been trying to pursue for days. 

“How could you ing let it slip away that quickly?” Her editor yelled over the phone earlier. 

Breaking the news has always been a tug of war between the two reporters. When Irene breaks the news first, Wendy gets to be the receiving end of her editor’s cursing and yelling; the same goes for Irene when Wendy does things faster.
 

Be it the Zoom virtual conferences when the pandemic was about to end, press conferences, and in-depth exclusive reports, Wendy Shon and Irene Bae were always pitted against each other as the city’s best multimedia TV reporters.
 

When a bimbo health official says something stupid, people would always be on heels to see whoever between both writers would drop the news first. Some days it was Wendy. Some days it was Irene, but in all days, Irene refused to lose. She didn't want her momentum to go down, not when she was still this young. 

Irene stuttered throughout the phone call, apologized as the call went on. Sad as it was, either way, she had to file in the story. Wendy was one step ahead of her, being easily accommodated by a source Irene tried so hard to contact but to no avail. In the end she and the network would have to endure accusations that her piece was done out of envy from Wendy’s. 

She knew the matter was out of her control. Maybe someone ed up internally and leaked some information to the rival network; was it one of the interns who went out with her friends at J-school? Or did some GA reporter at the desk up to the point where this resource person easily accommodated Wendy just to piss them off? Irene doesn’t know. The industry was too vast to pinpoint where the ideas were leaked. 

But now, it’s all the matter of who wrote it better. Irene sighs. 

The raven-haired girl rubs her temples before she starts picking up her phone (while silently praying it doesn’t have a crack - she had to pay her company if she did) and places it face up. She then opens her laptop and works on a story about the event she attended at a swanky hotel by the coast of the city - a symposium where the country’s health officials talked about the importance of vaccines post-coronavirus pandemic.
 

She had two hours to finish the story for online publishing and run a draft of the the script she'd voice over, in time for the news cast at 9 PM that night. 

The makeshift press room - tucked in a small events hall in the hotel  - was quiet, save for the Viber message tones, the constant keyboard tapping, and the occasional vibrations from phones put on silent.

Irene takes out a small notebook and checks the important time stamps she tallied, and takes out her recorder at the same time. She plugs in the headphones and scans the filenames for the important soundbites. 

In the middle of transcribing, Irene presses a button, trying to pause so she could catch up with the recording. She jumps as a prompt pops out it. 

Recording deleted

The reporter’s eyes widens. Shivers start to go down Irene’s spine. She was only halfway through the soundbites she needed.

Just as Irene thinks her day is getting any worse, she sulks even more once she sees her dreaded rival Wendy walk in the press room. 

“Hey what took you so long?” Hyunji, a reporter from the city daily asked. 

“Had to clarify something with one of the government doctors who talked a while ago. Something didn't add up with the data he presented." 

“There was?” Areum, a radio reporter from Daegu chided in.  

As the whole press corps debated on whether or not they should verify the information on their own, Irene rolls her eyes at what she was hearing and starts Googling steps on how to recover a deleted recording from her device. 

"Why does she have to gloat, who does she think she is, stirring up a conversation like that?" Irene mutters. 

In a couple of minutes, she leans back to see Wendy about to take a seat beside her, and stiffens. 

“You mind?” Wendy asks. 

Irene nods coldly and starts typing. 

Wendy stares at Irene with puzzled eyes and sits down. Not like Irene had the choice to decline her anyway. 

“How far along are you now?” Wendy looks at the soundbites Irene typed on her notepad.  

“You sound like you're asking if I’m pregnant.” Irene hisses. “And don’t you have other important things to do aside from talking to me? I have scripts to write here and I don’t want to be outscooped by you again," the clicks she does on her laptop grow harder.

Wendy sighs and takes out her computer. I was asking nicely, Jeez. Unconsciously, she peers at Irene's screen to see her Google search results. 
 

Later on, Wendy fishes out her recorder, and her notes from her bag, places it on the table, and pushes it over to Irene, who got startled by the rustling sound on the table. 

Irene sees Wendy, a smile beaming on the blonde's face. “What am I going to do with this?” she said in an annoyed tone.

“You can borrow it for a bit and transcribe the parts that you missed. I have my own copy here,” Wendy takes out a spare iPhone and waves it at Irene. 

Irene sighs at how Wendy had been one step ahead of her literally the whole day. She even has spare recordings now. How wonderful. “Are you sure about this? “Aren’t your bosses going to yell at you for giving this info, to me of all people?” 

Wendy scoffs, “You know how we have an info cartel here right? I could give the info to Hyunji or Areum if they asked. I would do the same to you." 

(a/n: In beat reporting speak, a cartel refers to a how group of reporters share information relating to their assignments and/or events with each other. Even people from rival networks help each other out. But of course, only to some extent) 

“Oh, right,” Irene scoops in the recorder and Wendy’s small notebook nearer to her, and sends a half-hearted smug at her rival. “Thanks.” 

Irene starts looking for the soundbites she needed and transcribed them immediately. Within an hour, she was able to produce an online news piece about what the reporter said. She just had the script to finish and a voiceover to do and she was done for the day.

—

The next day, they were back at the Ministry of Health’s press room. They had nothing significant to do for the day, but Irene would rather be hanging out at the press room rather than endure her editor yapping first hand. 

As she was setting up, the media officer, Ji-eun, comes in carrying a ream of paper - copies of the press releases they want storified. 

Irene scans her copy and immediately opens Notepad to write it. She grumbles mentally: They could’ve just sent this on Viber. This is a huge waste of paper. 

Irene was halfway through when she heard the seat beside her shift. She turns to see Wendy trying to set up. 

The older scoffs. “You know, you won’t get anything from me if that isn’t obvious.”

Wendy laughs. "You think I'd copy from you? I'm self sufficient," she says jokingly and proceeds to boot her laptop, scanning the press release to get an idea of what angle she wants it. The laptop the company provided her needed some extra work. She later on leaves a mental note reminding herself to ask for a replacement. 

By the time Wendy’s computer flicks on the start button, Irene could be heard pressing enter. “Hah!” Irene said, leaning back on her chair. “And now we wait.”

Irene mentally danced for joy about getting ahead just as Wendy was starting when five minutes later, she gets a call from her editor. She sighs, bracing herself for some more yelling. “Hello?”

“Good work submitting this early." She could hear her editor grin through the phone. "But-" Irene loses her breath as the editor pauses for a bit, hearing his lips purse over the line "I feel the story is still a bit one-sided. If you can, call someone who would contradict this info to supplement your story even further. Whatever the government wants to to with this new vaccine for the second strain of the coronavirus sounds illegal.” 

"Alright, sir. I will try to contact an expert right away." Irene sighed, now she had to work on a script, a voiceover, and look up more health experts. As much as she wanted to argue, her editor had a point. They can’t be a mouthpiece of the government. 

Wendy takes out her phone, presses a contact number, and shows the details to Irene. 

“Here, try calling him. Atty. Han. He specializes in medical ethics. He is also a doctor, he might be able to help. Talked to him once when the COVID-19 vaccines rolled out and the government wanted to try it out on animals, he’s a nice guy. I’ve got all that I need right here,” Wendy said, pointing to her notes. 

“He also replies fast, and is easy to talk to. You’ll have your answer in a jiffy if you want to break that story fast. I heard you get the scolding of your life yesterday.” Wendy knew it would happen; that was always the pattern between them. 

Wendy’s actions brought the blood up the raven-haired woman's cheeks. Irene tries to conceal it by cupping her hands on her face. “Thank you.” 

— 

Only Wendy and Irene were the only people left in the press room at the end of the day. It was always that way, but it was always radio silence between both, who were trying to beat their deadlines if they wanted their voiceovers out in time for their newscasts. Online news has demanded so much that it was integrated into much of the traditional news seen in the past; it was something reporters like Irene and Wendy sulked at because of the fast pace, and the lack of quality because they, as young correspondents, were expected to do so much. 
 

The pressure in the health journalism industry, particularly on TV had always centered on their rivalry, especially with both of their careers flourishing in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic. When one breaks it earlier, the other reporter gets a bout of scolding on the phone, and it goes on and on and on. (Don't get both of them started when the government got into a huge corruption case when the first set of coronavirus vaccines came out) 

“Wendy?” Irene calls at the blonde who was already up and fixing her things. 

“Yeah?” 

The pressure of being pitted against Wendy drove Irene to work harder, and she would assume that Wendy would do the same. So Irene asks, “Why are you being nice to me?” 

Wendy gazes at Irene, her dark orbs turning brown as she tries to explain. “Because I don’t really believe in the concept of rivalry in reporting,” she said. “And besides, we're both young, anyway, and everyone here is like, 5, 6 years older than the both of us. I don't see why we need to pull each other down?" 

Deep down, Wendy actually felt guilty for the times Irene became the receiving end of profanities at her work. Irene was someone she admired, but the woman when she tries to talk just gives her the stink-eye. 

--

Wendy blushed mentally, thinking about that silly crush she had for Irene when she reached college. The older was the talk of the town in J-school when Wendy was in college, one of the youngest, rising multimedia reporters in LPTV. They were only three years apart, and Wendy was in Junior year when her professors started using Irene’s groundbreaking pieces for critique papers in online news class, and her video reports for broadcast journalism class. Irene was barely a year in the industry and had been one of the pacemakers in health journalism midway through the coronavirus pandemic. 

Wendy, who graduated with high honors and accolades with her back against the wall, got offers from different news companies until she was piqued by RV Network’s offer, which provided more stability than the rest. Getting offers in the industry was easy but choosing the right one is difficult granting that some companies were not stable enough to grant high pay - you see, it’s not the best-paying job out there. Wendy would’ve wanted to write for a newspaper because it allowed for more space for improvement but multimedia was the future, just as Irene unconsciously became the face of the young multimedia reporting industry then. It was the more practical choice. 

For Irene, the dynamic became different when Wendy came into the picture. Wendy had been producing top-notch content for RV Network ever since she set foot in the company, and within a month, she was given her first assignment as a health and sciences reporter— something to match with what LPTV had with Irene, whose sharpness and impeccable beauty attracted viewers.  

At times it delivered for Wendy, some days, it didn’t. Wendy and Irene would bump into each other in the news room and Irene would roll her eye, even if the younger grinned at her apologetically and stared at her a lot at times. Often, Irene would stare back at her from the other side whenever they stayed at the Ministry of Health’s press room and it would often catch the attention of other reporters. 

“You both look like you’re going to chokeslam each other any minute now,” Hyunji remarked at one point, erupting laughter in the press room. The Ministry of Health's press corps was tight, and often passed information, contact details and the whatnot with each other. (Well, except to journalists who often rubbed elbows with politicians and have broken their principles along with it.)

Bothered by Irene's surly attitude, Wendy asks a senior correspondent one time: “Is it normal for journalists in rival networks to hate each other?”

The woman named Tiffany answers "No, in press corps, competition is usually taboo, at least, when it comes to the camaraderie in the group. “But Irene, she’s actually nice. When I was still in the health beat a few years back while working in a newspaper. Just a bit weird because she sniffs the fabric of media kits sometimes to check which fabric softener was used when they give cloth bag giveaways. But she's nice." 

—

It was at that moment when Wendy realized did not want that dynamic to go any longer. Besides, they were both of the same age and probably needed each other to keep up with how fast-paced the industry is. So she vowed to take the leap of faith and help, when Irene needed to. Wendy then tried to shoot her shot, trying to break the tension which she thought was unnecessary. 

“Y’know what, Irene? I don’t hate you as much as you’d like to believe so. I’ve always admired you, actually. You’ve been on here longer than me but I’ve always looked up to you,” Wendy says to Irene, who had on a gasp, embarassment setting in, especially with what Wendy had to say next. “And at times it kinda hurts that the person you look up to treats you coldly, I’m sure if Christiane Amanpour yelled at you for some reason you’d cry for days on end." 

Irene laughs but feels a pang of pain in her chest. True. She’s funny I’ll give her that. She was so consumed by the idea that people from rival networks can only thrive with a deadly competition that she forgot that people in the industry actually helped each other in order to grow (but of course it had its limits. After all, Both companies had stakeholders to please, and social media goals to reach just by getting the news out faster, but that was supposed to be the least of their concern.) 

On Wendy’s first day at the Ministry of Health’s press room, Irene could remember staring at the younger a lot because she was so pretty... until she found out that Wendy was part of the rival network. 

Irene, as young and seasoned as she was, was oblivious the idea of any one admiring her in the industry. She was aware that some of her pieces were used as examples in different journalism schools across Korea but the work culture  always eats her alive whenever it has the chance. Whenever she got outscooped, she always has the tendency to bring herself down; for her it meant that she lacked when she’d been painted as one of the most perfect reporters for the past three years. It was overly-competitive, and as much as she was focused on getting the news out pretty fast, she forgot one of the most important things: quality, which Wendy had helped her with that morning. 

And all this time after burning her eyebrows, over the competition she had with Wendy, she had been so oblivious about the younger’s admiration, and her drive to be a better person for her own growth. She realized that she actually admired Wendy and would like to help her whenever she could. 

Irene would actually like to get to know her more this time. She shifts her position, fidgeting her fingers as she makes eye contact with the blonde, eyes apologetic. 

“I’m sorry for that. It’s just that the pressure gets to me sometimes, and it pains me to hear my editor call me useless over you getting a story out even by just seconds earlier than me,” Irene said.  “If I put my internal pressures out on you, I’m sorry; it shouldn’t be your fault.” 

A pause. Followed by Wendy grinning. “Apology accepted.” Wendy grins, and Irene feels a fluttering feeling on her stomach that she tries to shush quietly. Was Wendy this attractive up close? She looks so much better off-cam. As much as Irene was confused, she was at awe at how Wendy admired her. She had this weird feeling within her when she stared at Wendy, like her stomach was about to somersault.

They both fall silent. After a while, Wendy slips in her laptop on her bag, walks away and takes out her phone to call her crew cab driver.

“Wait!” 

Wendy turns her head as she steps under the doorframe. 

“Do you want me to take you out for dinner?  My treat. I actually want to get to know you more this time.” I’d like to know if what the butterflies in my stomach lead to. 

Wendy puts her phone down and turns to Irene. “Me too.” 

“So it’s a yes?” It’s a date? 


“Yes. If you treat me to a poke bowl.” Yes. 

“Yah! You know we can’t afford that kind of food.” For an industry which requires one to be presentable, it's one that doesn't have a presentable paycheck.  

Both women head out of the press room, baggages behind, with a newfound company they seek to discover from then on.