Han Sunhwa loves the height.

She tries to hike every chance she gets. In the past, she sometimes took one of the girls or her managers with her, which would usually end with one of them declaring how they will never climb up that mountain again. So now she goes alone, often at early dawn on days when her schedule is empty and she's back by the time the city has fully woken up and no one notices that she had gone.

She loves the city and hates it at the same time. Here she is Han Sunhwa--famous subvocal of Secret, variety star who comes up with blunt and witty quips, model of a skincare line--an idol. She's becoming what she always hope she'd be. Yet the thought of being trapped inside buildings, bound to the makeup chair, and trying not to be affected by every little comment people whisper behind her back lingers in the back of her mind. As an idol, you're near the bottom of the industry. You smile at the people who have the power to spit in your face and ruin years of hard work with a snap of their fingers, you laugh with the people who openly leers and insults you, you act like a fool and mold yourself to be what they want you to be. So you smile,bow, laugh, and pretend, pretend, pretend. You aren't some cheerful, innocent, chaste thing that some people believed you to be. You've tasted the bitter flavors of regret, hurt, and loss all before you turned the age of 20. When you finally reach that sunbae status, you've gone through it all and become someone else, a fragment of who you used to be. It's a pitiful process. 

So young and inexperienced, one by one they all sold their souls to the devils by signing a contract. They're lucky if their devil is a milder one than the rest. 

Dangling her feet over the edge of a cliff, she sighed and spawled onto her back. Early birds swooped across the grey sky.

Han Sunhwa thinks she's too old to be thinking of sentimental bull. 

She loves her job, even if she doesn't make much money from it. She's a practical girl. There's no point in losing what little sleep they get by musing over mistakes they made and hurt lashed out by others (but what if, what if, what if...). You put on a mask, deal with your pain privately, and go on your way. To show weakness publicly is like offering yourself to be prey to the vultures--and she refuses to be eaten alive by anyone.

Rising to her feet, she set her cap on her head and descended down towards the waking city. 

~*~*~*~*~

Kim Himchan was drunk.

Scratch that, he was pissed drunk. Maybe both pissed and drunk. He stumbles across the sidewalk to his dorm, no doubt smelling of cheap booze and Chanel No. 5 that Eunkyung always likes to wear (or is it Eunjung? Eunsun? No matter. They hadn't been dating too long, anyways). Last night had been the worst date of his life and he can barely recalled what happened before he went on a drinking binge at the bar. He vaguely remembered that woman's earsplitting screech as she rambles on about what was wrong with their relationship, how he never seems to pay attention like a proper boyfriend would, and how he was all over female idols when he's MCing on the music show. Does she realize how much risk he was taking by starting a relationship? He has never been unfaithful and it wasn't his fault that his job requires him to interact with female idols and to be friendly towards them. He doesn't even remember what lead them to have a shouting match that caused her to storm off. It's a good thing that the only people at the bar were old drunk sods who could care less about a young couple's spat. One of the men even bought him a drink.

"Good morning, ajumma," Himchan slurred as an old lady was about to walk past him on the street. She gave him a disgusted look and scurried away.

"Rude." he muttered as he turned towards his street. A nagging thought that fans might see him in this state appeared in his half-awake mind. But he brushes it away as he thought of his warm bed awaiting him. He walked faster, craving a cold shower and some coffee just to make this hangover go away. As he neared the vicinity of the apartment, he suddenly tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his face.

He groaned and laid there for what felt like eternity. It might not be a bad idea to sleep there on the ground; damn the consequences. He squeezed his eyes shut as he heard faint footsteps approaching.

Maybe they will just ignore him.

But the footsteps got louder and he felt the person kneel down beside him.

Where they going to rob him? Kids these days will steal from a dead man without showing any remorse. How aggravating.

He opened his eyes and saw two red sneakers. They were nice shoes, though far too girly to be worn by a thief. Maybe the thief stole them from some helpless little girl.

"You shouldn't steal, you know," he murmured at the shoes.

"What the hell are you doing?" A familiar, feminine voice snapped from above his head. 

He squinted up and tried to lift his head. "Han Sunhwa. Charmed as ever." He sat up slowly.

"Are you trying to kill your career?" Sunhwa hissed as she drew his hood over his head and adjusted her cap nervously.

Himchan ignored her and tried to focus on her red sneakers. Why is she lecturing him when she was out at this hour, anyways? "Those are really nice shoes," he quipped in reply.

Then, he threw up on them.

Author's Notes: I've pretty much reevaluated the previous parts I've written and thought they needed revising. I wanted the story to go in a more darker route that I originally planned. I hope you all will still enjoy the story :)