I don't know why, but I don't want to live this life. Why does life pick some people and let them shine like stars, giving them beauty, fame, everything, without them even asking, while my dreams are little things that others take for granted every day? How am I supposed to be content when they have what I can only wish for? Can I feel envy? Maybe. Can I feel jealousy? Perhaps. But the truth is, life isn't fair. And who am I supposed to be angry at? I don't even know.
The perfect day I imagined in my mind… was happening for everyone else.
She stood in front of a building, staring at the giant screen showing an ad with a stunningly beautiful girl promoting a hairstylist.
Her expression was cold—or maybe it was anger; it was impossible to tell. Then the rain started pouring. She lifted her head, letting the drops fall on her face, and glanced around as everyone else ran for cover.
She curled the corner of her upper lip to the left and sneered, "ugh "
She glanced at the screen one last time and then started walking toward the bus station.
The station was packed. There was barely space to stand as people jostled and shoved each other, trying to claim a spot.
She watched them with a look of sheer disgust, as if everything around her was unbearable.
Then she heard a voice nearby: "Isn't that Yuna?"
She turned sharply to see where the attention was. And there she was—Yuna, just stepping out of the same company, dressed impeccably in modern, expensive clothes: a short skirt, a fine blouse, designer boots, and a luxurious handbag. She walked with perfect confidence, flanked by bodyguards, one holding an umbrella over her. The crowd screamed and swarmed around her, pushing forward to get a glimpse, while she looked down on them with haughty disdain.
All of this unfolded in an instant before the first girl, who now looked from Yuna to herself, wearing simple, ordinary clothes.
Yuna got into her car and drove away. The crowd slowly dispersed, murmuring:
"Wow… did you see her?"
"She's like a jewel."
"Her outfit alone could probably solve a global economic crisis."
Every word praised her beauty.
The bus arrived. People rushed to get in, pushing and shoving. She ended up in the middle of them, getting shoved from every side, struggling to hold her balance.
The noise of voices filled the bus:
"If we don't get on now, we'll be waiting forever!"
"Yes, it's going to get even worse if we don't!"
She looked out the window, thinking,"Life isn't fair; she's here, and I'm there. Perhaps I'm not even considered human in her eyes "
An hour before
Yuna stepped out of her car in front of the building. Screens all around were filled with girls resembling her in style—hair, makeup, outfits—all echoing the look of celebrities.
The flashes of cameras hit her face so fiercely that it stung, and the crowd outside screamed, "My idol, Yuna!"
She didn't look at them, not even half a glance. She walked into the building as if they didn't exist. Everyone she passed bowed respectfully, seemingly mesmerized by her presence.
Inside the meeting room, she opened the door and sat down calmly at the table. Everyone stared at her.
Four other girls sat there—similar in style, elegance, and an air of wealth. One had platinum blonde hair, another short hair, the third had long brown hair, and the last had medium-length hair. Their faces were strikingly similar—the same size lips, eyes, nose, and perfectly sculpted features. Makeup flawless, bodies impossibly slim. Only hair color and length set them apart. Two men and a woman accompanied them.
The older man spoke first, voice deep and commanding. "Yuna, you're late."
" well ,I am Yuna," she replied, her tone dripping with arrogance.
The woman, elegant and in her late forties, interjected, "Let's get to the point. Do you know why we called this meeting?"
The girls listened attentively, eyes neutral, waiting. Yuna, however, appeared impatient, her body tense.
The woman continued, "To strengthen our relationship with the group 'Staytune,' four of you will participate in a program with three members from 'Ironbeat.'"
The blonde girl nodded understandingly. "But there are five of us and only four spots. Why is one being left out?"
The woman looked calmly at them. "After the rumor that Yuna is dating Ethan…" Yuna's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Before she could finish, the girl with short hair interrupted angrily, "Ms. Lucy, I'm sorry, but are we really excluding her because of a stupid rumor, instead of clarifying that it's false?"
The man in his late thirties said firmly, "Let her finish."
Lucy turned her gaze to Yuna, then back to the short-haired girl, her eyes calculating and sly. "Why are you rushing, Rin? Let me finish. Yuna will not be excluded, nor Ethan. They will host the program together."
Everyone looked surprised. "So… we're confirming their relationship?"
Yuna slammed her hand on the table. "What relationship are you talking about?"
Lucy smiled, provocatively. "Do you want success? Isn't that your ultimate goal? You would die to be successful, to be more famous. This is for your own good." She tapped her temple in a patronizing gesture. "Understand?"
Yuna grabbed her bag, fuming, and left.
Everyone watched her storm out. Rin whispered, a mix of anger and concern, "Lucy, you were too harsh on her."
Lucy's eyes were full of contempt. "Rin, learn this: after what I've done for you all, none of you have the right to defend her."
The girl with long brown hair murmured, "But let's not forget… her schedule is packed. She carries this team on her own."
Lucy shot them one last disdainful look and left.
Outside, the roads were slippery. Yuna sat in the back of her car, gripping her head in frustration. "Drive faster," she barked at the driver.
He nodded and sped up, weaving through traffic. Suddenly, a massive truck swayed violently from side to side,The driver seemed very scared, as if he knew what was going to happen. He turned to Yuna and said, "Hold on tight." The truck crashed into the middle of the road. Yuna was trying to understand what was happening, where this loud sound had come from that suddenly made her look terrified. She was shocked then. Cars skidded on the wet asphalt, tires screeching. Yuna's own car slid, and she screamed as the vehicle slammed into a tree. The glass beside her shattered.
Her eyes snapped open to the sound of loud collisions, screams, and the sickening crunch of metal. Outside, the overturned bus groaned under the weight of people trapped inside, their panicked cries cutting through the rain-soaked air.
Her head throbbed. Blood streamed down her face and drenched her clothes. The air was filled with the terrifying symphony of sirens, honking, and terrified shouts. She gasped for breath, each inhale sharp and ragged, each exhale trembling from shock. The sound of the cars crashing was audible, but then there was a louder noise. She stared at the source of the sound, her eyes almost closed. It was a bus, smashed in half and into pieces.
The last thing she saw before her vision faded was the A girl's body lay outside her car next to the bus, covered in blood; her face was unclear.
"Viel Street accident: 55 dead, 134 critically injured,"