Han Jisung

You were raised with the idea: "You're a woman, be beautiful, like a museum exhibit." You became obsessed with your appearance. At 16, you joined a modeling agency and became a significant figure. By 20, you felt nothing—an empty shell.

Khan, a well-known journalist, always got to know the person personally before an interview.

Before the interview, the managers gave you a template for your answers. You lived like a log: memorized lines, no friends, no freedom.

You walked into Khan's office. The atmosphere wasn't work-related, but friendly. For the first time, you saw a place where people weren't competitors, but friends. A shiver ran down your spine.

He invited me to sit next to him and started asking questions that weren’t in the template: do you like your job, who are you close to?

You were confused. Your smile was fake.
“Enough,” he said. “Your falsehood is visible from afar.”
For the first time, someone told you the truth. Your cheeks flushed, your heart beat faster.

“I’m not alive,” you said quietly. “I’m an exhibit.”
Your voice trembled. Tears you'd been saving up for your entire career began to stream down your cheeks.