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Shoes are the clothes that fit perfectly to the owner’s body.

It’s important to note that it’s not about just wearing anything, but rather wearing something that fits “just right.”

Since ancient times, there has been an inseparable relationship between people and clothing.

To regulate body temperature, to protect against external threats, to show off style, and to hide embarrassing parts.

People made clothes and wore them.

However, clothing varies by culture, region, and environment.

In hot and humid places, clothing was almost at the level of being nearly bare, while in cold places, thick and furry clothing was the norm, and in sandy areas with strong sunlight, people covered their bodies completely to protect their skin.

In some places, people wore clothes that wrapped long cloth around their bodies. In other regions, only leather clothes were worn, and in some areas, clothing made from specific animals was the only choice.

Each place has its own style.

Clothing differs from region to region.

Even within the same region or cultural sphere, clothing varied depending on income level and social status.

Those in higher positions wore clothes adorned with all kinds of gold and jewels, or they wore such cumbersome and elaborate garments that one might question whether they could perform daily activities in them. Moreover, the materials used in those outfits might have been more expensive than gold of the same weight, or dyed in colors that could only be achieved by catching thousands of sea snails for just a single gram.

But what about those at the lower end?

They barely managed to drape anything over their bodies.

It was not uncommon for families to pass down clothing for three or five generations, or for someone to wear something that was basically a rag.

While it may seem ridiculous to wear something that looks like they’ve thrown a sack over themselves, what can they do? This is the only thing they can wear, and if they don’t wear it, they would have to go about naked like a barbarian.

Dyeing is a distant dream, and clothing riddled with holes that barely holds together fails even at the most basic purpose of “protecting the body.”

To make matters worse, their long-worn, dirty clothes are likely teeming with all sorts of pests.

Truly, this is a stark contrast.

The difference between the upper and lower classes is so pronounced.

However, shoes are different.

Despite the differences in what people own.

Despite the differences in where they live.

Despite the countless differences in what they eat and how they wash.

Both the high and the low wear shoes that fit “their feet.”

They don’t wear shoes that are too large and clunky, or too small to stand in properly.

Something that fits their feet.

Something that is comfortable to walk in.

The wealthy and the poor.

The noble and the humble.

All wear shoes that fit their feet.

Everyone does.

Everyone!

That is why shoes are special.

Special, special, and again special.

Because they are the perfectly fitting attire, shoes are connected to their owner.

They are almost one and the same, closely related to the owner’s life.

Thus, shoes hold a special quality, much like the flesh, as they embrace the owner’s soul.

That is the uniqueness of shoes.

Shoes possess supernatural power.

Shoes are full of potential.

Shoes are—

Shoes are—

* *

Time flows even when a person dies.

Time flows even while one searches for the person who killed another.

The sky moves, the clouds drift, and the celestial bodies advance.

At last, the night has come.

Changwon began to be soaked in darkness.

But just because darkness fell over Changwon doesn’t mean the city itself was consumed by darkness.

Rather, as if wanting to do what couldn’t be done during the day, lights lit up everywhere.

Not only that, but in some places, people gathered in droves, and in others, they enjoyed drinking, raising their glasses, surrendering to inebriation. In some areas, groups of people sang together, while others engaged in games, snacking on drinks and side dishes.

And in some places, people reveled in the joy of a festival.

Waaah—!

It wasn’t a grand festival.

It was just a local celebration.

Promoting regional specialties, a few invited singers crooning songs…

Just the typical kind of festival that occurs in various places at a certain time.

But for those with no enjoyment to be found, it was truly the best kind of diversion.

A little bit pricey, but with delicious-looking food.

Performances by those whose names one might recognize.

Raffles designed to entice people.

Plus, a charismatic comedian hosting it all.

It wasn’t too bad for passing the time.

Yeah, it wasn’t bad.

But do those watching the festival know?

That the performers, appearing to enjoy the festival as much as they are, might be tormented by the very same ‘Flame of Life’ they’re fanning to overcome their fatigue?

“Hah…”

Real name, Kim Seon-mi.

Stage name, Chaine.

A woman with two names sighed in the waiting room.

In the old, cramped waiting area, Chaine sat with her eyes closed, a deep sigh escaping her. It was a sigh thick with exhaustion—one that could only come from someone truly dedicating their life and body to their art.

“Chaine-ssi. Are you tired?”

Beside Chaine, who was sitting on a chair, sighed an imposing woman, her sharp features accentuated by a vibrant outfit, as if ready to tackle a mountain. She looked expressionless while gazing at Chaine.

Yes.

With an expressionless face.

Even as her appointed celebrity looked ready to collapse from exhaustion, she asked the question mechanically, with no hint of emotional disturbance.

“Still, isn’t it much better than before?”

It wasn’t just a casual inquiry.

It felt almost like a reprimand.

Her tone suggested a disbelief that one could still sigh as if unaware of their own blessed circumstances.

Chaine let out a deep sigh and weakly turned to look at her.

But the woman only stared back with eyes that held no pity whatsoever.

“Chaine-ssi. It is troubling to see you sigh like that. You agreed to this, didn’t you?”

“Hah.”

Chaine glanced at her manager, silently urging her, “Stop whining and get up. We have other events to attend.”

Manager.

Not the same manager she used to travel with… a new manager.

“Well… it is better than it was.”

Her previous manager had been a man.

They had shared many long hours together and built some sort of rapport.

However, Chaine’s belief in that bond was merely her own.

In reality, her manager was a truly terrible bastard.

A bastard.

Yes, a bastard indeed.

There was no other way to describe him.

Just recalling the shocking contents contained in her manager’s smartphone was enough to stir her disgust.

His phone was a treasure trove of personal information about the agency’s celebrities.

What’s the big deal about a manager having information about the celebrity they manage?

Sure, that makes sense.

It’s normal for a manager to have information about their assigned celebrity.

However, having extensive information about celebrities they do not manage? Now, that’s a whole different story.

In fact, the detailed and intricate nature of the personal data—one might wonder if it was gathered by a stalking fan—made it even more alarming.

“A manager who deals with obsessive fans? What a lunatic.”

Chaine’s former manager was addicted to gambling.

He poured his entire salary into betting, and that wasn’t enough—he racked up debt on top of it.

Eventually, with no one left to borrow money from, he resorted to selling off information about the agency’s celebrities to stalkers as a means to fund his gambling.

The types of information he sold were diverse.

From event schedules and album details to family ties, hobbies, and personal information of the other idols in the agency.

He was selling it all.

“I’ve been wondering why obsessive fans have been getting out of hand lately, and now I know who the culprit is…”

The agency had been plagued by obsessive fans.

These individuals would sneak in through blind spots of the CCTV, steal documents, barge into unsecured areas only to cling to idols, or even break into male idols’ lodgings and hide in wardrobes until they were discovered, prompting the police to be called in…

The damage caused by obsessive fans to the agency was truly significant.

“Not to mention the wiretapping devices…”

Moreover, that wasn’t the end of it.

He even set up a wiretapping device—received from the stalkers he was dealing with—at a male idol’s lodging. Fortunately, it hadn’t been long since it was installed, so there wasn’t much recorded yet.

He was selling off corporate secrets, the personal data of agency idols, and wiretapping their lives…

And on top of that, the bastard was planning to team up with a ruthless journalist to peddle stories that would make good headlines.

“A bastard.”

Among the information to be sold to the journalist was gossip about her, ‘Chaine’—who had worked alongside her former manager—and bizarre provocative rumors claiming that “Chaine was flirting with male idols from the same agency” that were entirely fabricated.

If she hadn’t discovered the truth about her former manager soon enough, Chaine would have fallen into the abyss.

All due to the filthy actions perpetrated by that godforsaken bastard to fund his gambling habits.

But fate smiled upon her; she learned the true nature of her former manager.

By some divine intervention…

No.

By the help of a madman who introduced himself as a journalist.

 

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