Free Web NovelThis was Los Angeles, USA. The judges, wearing blue-light-blocking glasses, continued their discussion with visibly tired faces.
“Anyone want more coffee?”
“I’ll take another cup too.”
“I’d prefer tea. Strong, with sugar.”
A few days before the Critics Choice Awards, a private discussion among judges—cut off from reporters and outsiders—dragged on endlessly. Coffee cups and laptops were scattered everywhere, leaving the room in disarray.
Inside this hotel room, people from all over the world had gathered—TV and film critics, columnists, and magazine editors from the United States, the United Kingdom, Japan, France, Italy, and more.
“Alright, everyone, let’s just say one last thing each. So we can finally get out of this damn hotel room.”
The one rubbing her dark-circled eyes and yawning was Andy, a former New York Times critic. As a previous Oscar jury member, she was simply glad the candidates had finally been narrowed down to two.
This year’s Critics Choice had been brutal. There had originally been five nominees, but after heated, almost combative debates, they had been cut down again and again.
And now, only two remained.
<The Great Garand>, <Rustland>.
“I’m not changing my mind. I never imagined The Great Gatsby could be woven into a drama like that. I’m voting for the one with literary depth. A masterpiece doesn’t fade with time.”
Emily Carter, with her striking brown hair, stood firm. Across from her, Marco, an Italian columnist, gave a light shrug.
“I’ll give you that, to a degree. But look at <Rustland>. It confronts the fractures within America head-on, Emily. Isn’t universality—something all industrialized nations can relate to—what matters most? Not just ‘America’?”
At his words, a Brazilian magazine journalist, Anna Luiza, tapped the table with her palm.
“<The Great Garand> is excellent, no doubt. But if it has one flaw, it’s that it’s up against <Rustland>. This is a reality familiar to South America too. Factories shut down, and drugs and poverty fill the void. If we’re talking about the spirit of the times, isn’t it clearly this side?”
Snap—!
A finger snap came from the corner of the sofa. The owner of the sound was Gabriel, a French film critic.
“On the contrary, I think stories of the past are deeply intertwined with reality. <The Great Garand> may deal with war and reconstruction in a small country like Korea, but there’s a narrative within it—hope. <Rustland> doesn’t overcome anything. If we’re talking about universality, isn’t it the belief that tomorrow can be better than today? Even the act of relinquishing ill-gotten wealth, the idea of noblesse oblige—it all resonates.”
This was the Critics Choice room—a place filled only with people who were exceptionally good at expressing their opinions.
Andy Lopez, formerly of the New York Times, pressed her forehead.
“God, this is insane! At this rate, we’ll be stuck here until sunrise on the day of the ceremony! Damn it. Is no one there? We’ve got people trapped in here!”
She burst into a half self-deprecating laugh, but no one paid her any attention.
Everyone here was suffering from the same condition—Even so, I’m right.
Lars Johansson from Sweden set his empty teacup down on the table.
“I think European audiences will relate much more to <Rustland>. Europe is also struggling with industrial collapse and immigration issues right now...”
Suzuki Nanao, a Japanese film critic who had remained silent until now, spoke softly.
“War leaves scars on everyone... I believe it is right to leave the past behind and focus on the present. Industrial issues are something all developed nations must share responsibility for.”
At that, as if he had been waiting, Chinese film director Liu Jun slammed his cup down mid-sip, anger flaring.
“Are you finished? How can you tell people to forget the past? I’m voting for this one, no question! There wasn’t a single work this year that matched <The Great Garand>! And Marco—you said universality matters beyond just ‘America,’ didn’t you? Then shouldn’t we acknowledge how that damned war made people all over the world suffer? And I don’t understand why you keep trying to shift your own faults onto everyone else.”
“I regret that you’re taking this so aggressively. But regarding industry, perhaps China should take a step back. And if we’re talking about scars left on Korea’s drama industry, wouldn’t China be the biggest one...?”
“What did you just say? You done talking?”
“Please don’t get so emotional.”
They were on the verge of a full-blown brawl. Then a Vietnamese journalist joined in.
“I would also like to weigh in on <The Great Garand>. What moved me most was their effort to preserve their language. That scene where paper flowers were placed over boards with written characters... especially that. Because even if some of you here don’t know, the pain of almost losing your language is a very ‘universal’ experience in colonized nations.”
At Le Thi Huong’s words, Gabriel’s cheeks flushed slightly. Suzuki had already slipped out of the room under the pretense of getting more tea.
The most influential judge in the room.
Not just a film critic, but someone with enough weight to sway the entire direction of international awards—a former film journalist turned cultural columnist.
Now the editor-in-chief of a global magazine.
Helena Krüger, who had also served on the Critics Choice board for over ten years, silently observed the situation.
With just a single word from her, the balance would naturally tip to one side.
Leaning comfortably against the back of the sofa, Helena looked at the laptop screen on the table.
On it was a girl, drenched in rain, smiling brightly.
* * *
At this moment, as Han Yeoreum prepared for her entry into the U.S. market, Ryu Risa was losing her mind.
“These lunatics! Talk faster already—!”
A stylist among stylists—Ryu Risa was used to schedules befitting her status. Domestic award ceremonies were usually prepared half a year in advance. There had to be room for the inevitable dress wars.
“There’s no time!”
But the Critics Choice Awards in the U.S.? This had never been expected. The project hadn’t even been planned with overseas expansion in mind from the start.
No one could have predicted that <The Great Garand>, which had struggled from the beginning due to restrictions, would end up going to America.
“Brand D is already with Eun Baekhap....”
As a global ambassador, Eun Baekhap had long since secured a dress from Brand D.
In this situation, Han Yeoreum had to avoid dresses from similarly high-end, well-known brands.
Because comparisons would be inevitable.
High-end brands with widely recognized names made it easiest for the public to line people up and rank them.
So Ryu Risa had already excluded Brand A—the one that had first reached out after causing a sell-out frenzy with <Faster Than the Law>.
“And we’re aiming for Brand D’s global ambassador spot too... If I dress her in another house, that’ll leave a bad impression.”
Han Yeoreum was currently Brand D’s beauty ambassador, but she was waiting for an opening the moment Eun Baekhap’s contract ended.
From her very first step into the U.S. market, she couldn’t afford to create the impression of courting another fashion house. Ryu Risa felt like her head might explode.
“And the outfits of the people going with her matter too... So going solo with a hanbok design is also a no.”
That meant she couldn’t bring in a design from Park Sulhwa—the hanbok designer who had created buzz with Eun Baekhap’s final-episode look. It could easily come across as a rookie overstepping her place.
This was an important event. An international awards ceremony meant global media attention all at once.
On top of that, this was the first Korean work ever nominated for the Critics Choice Awards—often called the “Little Oscars.”
Whether Han Yeoreum would be overshadowed by Eun Baekhap and Ji Haebeom, or stand her ground and break through, would be decided by the atmosphere of that day.
Even if they won, the microphone would go to the lead actors—not a young actress like her.
“Alright, Ryu Risa... You’re a genius. A genius... Think.”
Ryu Risa closed her eyes and muttered. The entire industry’s attention was focused on <The Great Garand> at the Critics Choice.
This might be the moment to create a styling that would define her career.
“Hmm...”
She began recalling Han Yeoreum’s past outfits. Like a dual monitor, ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) Yeoreum’s previous red carpet looks appeared on the left, while this year’s new dress lineups filled the right.
As she scrolled, something slowly clicked into place.
“That could work. It has a narrative too... yeah.”
At last, Ryu Risa’s eyes lit up with certainty.
“I really am a genius.”
She had found the perfect way to turn all eyes toward them—with a single outfit.
* * *
At Smile Dairy, a company filled with employees smiling just like its name, the decision to cast Han Yeoreum—nicknamed “Baby Melon Bread”—as the model for their new product had been nothing short of genius.
[Smile Dairy's sales surge past ‘200%’ after partnering with ‘Baby Melon Bread’ Han Yeoreum... emerging as the top trend among the 10–20 generation]
Following the initial buzz of Smile Dairy's new Melon Milk release, sales had surged once again. Behind this growth were rising actress Han Yeoreum, So Dami, and Choo Gaeul.
Recently, the three had connected with fans through a YouTube vlog—practice footage for 〈Youth Disqualified!〉—where they were naturally seen enjoying Melon Milk.
Melon Milk retained the fresh, sweet flavor of classic melon ice cream, combined with the smooth richness of milk, making it a convenient “snack-type beverage.”
An industry insider commented, “Melon Milk already received strong attention at launch, but the influence of trending actresses like Han Yeoreum has significantly boosted sales again. It’s now firmly established as a new trend among the younger generation.” freēwēbηovel.c૦m
Han Yeoreum would store the Melon Milk she received in the practice room fridge, taking it out and drinking it whenever she felt like it.
It had naturally become PPL.
-11:27 Ah, Choo Gaeul keeps saying she’s dieting lol T_T LMAOOO
-Such a troublesome girl, Choo Gaeul... just give her milk and she quiets down, so cute
-No but Dami lololol how do you finish it in three gulps without even a straw T_T LOLOL unexpectedly bold
As the views of 〈Youth Disqualified!〉 practice videos rose, so did Melon Milk sales. The person in charge of PPL was practically writhing in joy.
“This won’t do. Send a snack truck to the drama set immediately!”
But that idea couldn’t be executed right away.
“What...?”
“People have to line up and wait their turn?”
The snack trucks at the 〈Youth Disqualified!〉 set were already close to saturation.
* * *
“...”
I stared at the snack truck for a moment, speechless. I blinked slowly, unable to believe it.
[We support the actress Han Yeoreum, whom we love passionately!
—Summer Days]
The banner attached to the truck bore the name of my fan café.
“Hey! Han Yeoreum! Hurry up and take a picture!”
“Whoa—! Yeoreum! Look! There are cup holders with you on them!”
Gaeul and Dami shook me from both sides. My face was printed huge on the green snack truck.
On the menu—my face. On the checkered tablecloth piled with cup holders—my face.
As if everything was declaring that this was all for Han Yeoreum.
“...”
What is this? Moments like this are something I imagine every night before going to sleep. So why am I so flustered?
My heart was pounding several times harder than when I first received a trophy.
Harder than when I passed a film audition, when I first went to an awards ceremony, when I received more than ten scripts...
My heart was beating so violently I could hear it in my ears.
What do you even call this kind of feeling...?
“What? So happy you can’t even speak?”
Director So’s quiet remark made me realize it.
Ah. So this is what it feels like when you’re too happy.
“Hey! Han Yeoreum! Are you crying?”
“Here! Here! Take this! Yeoreum, take the picture quickly!”
“Where’s the behind-the-scenes camera...?”
It took me quite a while before I could finally take a verification photo with the snack truck.
“Ah, but does this photo look okay? My eyes look a bit swollen.”
“Hey! Han Yeoreum! How many times are you going to ask that? It’s fine!”
“Yeoreum, I think the third one looks the prettiest—.”
Filming was delayed a bit, but it was fine.
Because I didn’t make a single NG in any of my scenes.
Who am I?
Han Yeoreum—the actress who now receives snack trucks from her fan café.
And so, the day of the Critics Choice Awards drew closer and closer.
* * *
Reporter Wi headed to the airport at dawn. Today was finally the day the <The Great Garand> team would depart for the U.S.
“You were right, sunbae. It really turned out like this.”
“What did I tell you? I said it would do well overseas.”
The senior reporter from Daily Media—who could predict first-episode ratings with uncanny accuracy—smirked.
He might have missed the rating prediction this time, but his prophecy had come true. The day <The Great Garand> was nominated for Critics Choice, he became a legend at Daily Media.
“Do you think it’ll actually win?”
“Sunbae, should I sell this stock or not?”
“Do you know the acceptance rate for early college applications...?”
Questions poured in—from award probabilities to stock timing to college application strategies.
Amid the flood of questions, there was only one thing the senior reporter said with certainty:
“I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
And just like that, the overseas schedule for filming at the Critics Choice Awards for <The Great Garand> was finalized.
