In the end, I decide on being an actress. Even though the path doesn't seem completely right, I have to choose something. Seoul's television business is on the rise again. Not so much as the pre-war era, but it's developing along with the possibility of working cell phones. Once televisions are a part of everyone's homes, mobile devices will be distributed for streaming purposes. It seems Seoul is on the edge of its second technological revolution.

Mr. Fame's employees train me from day to night. I spend most of my time in a studio in the League of Fame building. The trainers, who have worked with a multitude of actors and actresses in their lifetimes, are harsh on me. But they are passionate about what they do—and it's refreshing.

"Have you been working on crying on command?" one of the teachers asks me, Mrs. Seo.

"A little," I say.

"Try it for me now," she says.

She steps back, giving me space to admire myself from all four mirrors of the clean and modern studio. It's brighter than a classroom here. The light wooden floor is lacquered and polished, and the light fixtures hang at every angle to eliminate all possible shadows. There's no hiding here. My teachers can tell every time I make a mistake. There's only a single window to remind me of the comfort that I'll go home eventually, back to the mansion where my family has settled in—living in comfort, like I've always imagined for them.

I close my eyes, channeling the part of me that loved going to plays at the theater in the evenings. I open my eyes, feeling the emotions I keep buried come out.

Even though the training has been difficult, I have genuinely been enjoying my lessons. Mr. Fame really hired the best of the best. They know what they're doing, how to form a competent actor out of nothing. And in terms of my acting skills at the beginning, I was definitely close to nothing.

A single tear wells in the corner of my eyes, when I think about what it would've been like to lose Zion forever. Even though he's good as new, living in my mansion, even making friends with the other idols, it wasn't too long ago where his life was hanging in the balance. I always go back to it when I need some negative emotion to work with.

Right when the tear is about to fall, the door to the studio busts open. A bodyguard waits in the doorway, and my eyes travel to the pistol at his side.

"What is it?" Mrs. Seo asks, perturbed that her session was interrupted.

"Cosma is needed in Mr. Fame's office," he says, emotionless while hidden with his dark glasses.

"Come back right after, Cosma," Mrs. Seo relents. Mr. Fame doesn't seem like a person used to being rebelled against, but Mrs. Seo may just be the first employee in line.

I shake my head, partly annoyed that my tear was wasted. No matter, I follow the bodyguard outside. Jungkook is waiting there.

I've been seeing him less and less, after he's gotten more involved with the idols and recording his own music, getting ready for performances scheduled in the coming months. But it's always a relief to be in his presence. He's the only one who understands the big part of me—the one lost in the competition. Like me, he knew what fearing death was like for every moment of five weeks. He knew what hopelessness was, when we didn't have a way out and every corner that we turned seemed to lead us closer to failure.

"Cosma," he says, smiling.

I smile back. "Jungkook."

As we head to the elevator, he falls into step with me. "How is your acting going?" he asks.

"I'm supposed to record the pilot for a drama next month," I say. "It's set to air in the winter. So I've been busy. How are you?"

He tilts his head, reflecting on the time we've been apart. "I've recorded a song with the other guys. We all think it'll be a big hit. And besides that, I've been working on my own solo stuff. The music engineers here really know what they're doing. And so do the vocal coaches and dance instructors. It really feels like I'm learning from the best."

In these walls, we can't really talk about negative things related to Mr. Fame, so we focus on the positive. "Soon you'll be doing your first stadium performance," I say. "I'll be in the front row."

"You better," Jungkook says. "I'll crush the stage. It's all I've ever wanted to do."

I know Jungkook entered League of Fame with nothing to lose. All he had was a dream, a goal that he chased relentlessly. A part of me envies him even though I know how unreasonable those feelings are. I love my family. I wouldn't ever want to be alone in the world. A feeling that Jungkook was familiar with for the majority of his life.

Mr. Fame's office is on the third highest floor. Jungkook and I walk across a maroon carpet, glancing at paintings of old stars of Seoul's past. All have died decades ago, but they seem alive. Smiling at the camera, posing with fans, on stage with an audience roaring as they dance. The hall is like a tribute for them—they will always live on. In Mr. Fame's company, they are revered. The lighting here is opulent, like we're stepping into Seoul's past. In this hall, the poverty of Seoul can be forgotten.

The bodyguard opens Mr. Fame's office for us. The office is relatively plain, overlooking Gangnam like one could imagine themselves as its ruler sitting behind a desk.

Mr. Fame is waiting, steepling his hands under his chin. He smiles as we enter. For a moment I can imagine that he has good will toward us. Then I remember Jungkook's story, of a gun being held at RM so that he performs. I can't get that picture out of my head.

"Jungkook and Cosma," he says, gesturing at the two seats across from him. "Please sit."

I follow Jungkook, sitting on his right—closer to the glass, as if it'll make for an easier escape. We both sit silently, waiting for him to speak again.

"I trust your training is going well?" he asks.

When it's clear he's waiting for a response, I swallow and open my mouth. "Yes, it's going well."

"That's great to hear," Mr. Fame says, unsteepling his hands. He leans back in his luxurious desk chair, appraising us like we're molded from his very hands. "I have news from New York."

"New York?" Jungkook says. And I already don't like where this is going.

"New York," Mr. Fame says. "One of the three recovering cities. You see, New York doesn't have any stars. It doesn't have this program. The concept of League of Fame is foreign to them."

"New York," I repeat. I don't like what he's going to say. I feel sick to my stomach, like I'm being hung from a rope out of the window, the world spinning below me like a fissure is opening to swallow me.

"We need two lovely stars to travel to New York," he says. "Like you know, League of Fame stars are raised to boost morale. We've made a deal with New York to send you both on a tour of their city. You will offer them performances and give them a couple to look up to."

"We don't even speak the language," Jungkook says. "How do you expect us to travel to New York alone?"

Mr. Fame squints, displeased at being doubted. "You will travel with a team of translators. A whole staff to make your trip a success. In a plane designed with the same technology of the shield, bypassing the effects of radiation."

"And if we refuse?" I ask, fearing the answer.

"You don't have a choice," Mr. Fame says. "Get ready. You leave in one week."

"But—" I say, a thousand different protests bursting out of me.

"One week," Mr. Fame says. "Now go back to your training."

Outside, Mr. Fame's bodyguard is gone. We're left alone to return to our stations, chess pieces in Mr. Fame's prolonged game. We shuffle down the hall, toward the elevator.

I've begun to shake. Jungkook grabs my shoulders.

"Jungkook—I knew this would happen," I say.

"It's going to be okay," Jungkook says.

"It's not," I say. "I'm going to have to leave my family. We'll be running around like Mr. Fame's toys. We don't have any control anymore."

"Yes we do," Jungkook says. He raises his shirt, which I thought was baggy for stylish reasons. But on his belt, Jungkook is hiding a small pistol. "Trust me, Cosma. We'll find a way through this."

I nod, my resolve returning. If this boy is willing to fight back, I will be too. Minutes pass, of us standing here, relying on each other not to fall. My mood changes. The courage I found in League of Fame is uncovered, ready to strike like a prowling tiger. And I don't need to speak to communicate to Jungkook that I will not give up. He sees it in my eyes.

Whatever future is waiting for us, Mr. Fame will not win. Jungkook and I will make sure of it.

I'm still playing your game, Mr Fame. But I can turn it around at any moment. I am the fighter you least expected.

A/N: The End! Please see the next chapter for my acknowledgments.