275: Chapter 255 A Late-Night Confession: Alcohol, Script, and Inexplicable Emotions

When Kim Taeyeon opened the door, several possibilities flashed through her mind: maybe the maknae Seohyun had bought some strange health equipment that needed assembly, maybe Sunny was over to crash and share the latest gossip, or perhaps the Manager had a last-minute emergency schedule...

But she never expected Im Yoona to be standing outside—and in such an unprecedented state.

Im Yoona gripped a thick black document bag in one hand, her knuckles turning slightly white from the force. Her other hand unconsciously tugged at the hem of her cardigan, rubbing it into small wrinkles. Her lips were slightly pouted, her brow furrowed, and those eyes that countless fans praised for being "clear as a doe's" were now filled with confusion, anxiety, and a hint of... Kim Taeyeon could hardly believe what she saw—aggrievement?

This was too out of character.

Who was Im Yoona? She was the face of Girls Generation, a professional idol who always knew how to maintain her best state in front of the camera, and an extremely image-conscious person who rarely showed such overt inner conflict in private.

"Oh my, Yoona, what's wrong?" Kim Taeyeon blurted out, stepping aside to let her in. "Come inside and talk."

Im Yoona drifted in like a ghost and dropped the document bag onto the living room coffee table with a dull thud. She then slumped heavily into the sofa, covering her face with both hands and letting out a long, almost wailing sigh.

Kim Taeyeon closed the door, walked over to sit beside her, and studied her closely. Under the light, the tips of Yoona's ears were unnaturally flushed, and her breathing was faster than usual. This sight reminded Taeyeon of a real estate program she had watched recently—buyers facing the ultimate dilemma between two houses with their own pros and cons and staggering prices, their faces a mix of "happy troubles" and "fear of making the wrong choice."

"You look like..." Kim Taeyeon chose her words carefully, "you're trying to figure out which of two houses has the best value and don't know which one to buy."

This peculiar metaphor stunned Im Yoona for a moment before she broke into a bitter smile, her expression full of helplessness. "It's much more serious than that, Unnie. If you pick the wrong house, you can always change it. But this... if I pick wrong, there might not be a next time."

As she spoke, she tapped the black document bag with her finger, her fingertip even trembling slightly.

"Look..." Yoona's voice was very low, as if sharing an unspeakable secret. "This is the script Jiang Zhiyu gave me... Aaaaaah!"

Halfway through her sentence, she suddenly grabbed her head and let out a series of frustrated, suppressed screams, curling up on the sofa like a child faced with an unsolvable problem.

Kim Taeyeon's heart skipped a beat.

Jiang... Zhiyu?

The name was like a stone cast into a calm lake, sending complex ripples through her heart. She almost subconsciously looked at the document bag—solid black, high-quality texture, with a silver TG logo on the side glinting coldly under the living room lights.

Yes, this was very "Jiang Zhiyu." Even a document bag had to be designed differently, marked with his personal brand.

"I want to film it so much!" Im Yoona looked up, her eyes shining brilliantly with a nearly greedy desire that Kim Taeyeon rarely saw in her. "But I'm so afraid I won't do it well! Unnie, I've never played this kind of role before, never..."

She spoke rapidly and emotionally, completely unlike the usual Im Yoona who always spoke with careful consideration and elegance.

Kim Taeyeon said nothing. She got up, walked to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. Several cans of beer were neatly lined up in the chiller—leftovers from Sunny's last visit. She took out two cans, walked back to the living room, and handed one to Im Yoona.

She didn't ask "do you want one," she just gave it. She knew that at this moment, what Im Yoona needed wasn't a question, but a step to follow.

Im Yoona took the beer, her fingertips cold. With a "clink," she pulled the tab and tilted her head back for a large gulp. The cold liquid slid down her throat, bringing a brief moment of clarity, but the alcohol soon began to take effect—her emotions had been a roller coaster today, and she hadn't eaten much for dinner. With that gulp, a flush rose to her cheeks at a visible rate.

"You don't know what he said to me today..." Im Yoona's tone began to drift. The alcohol had loosened her guard, and the words she had been holding in all night finally found an outlet. "Things like 'seeing you is the most important thing,' 'you're like water,' 'you're beautiful'..."

As she recounted these words, her expression was incredibly complex—there was embarrassment, helplessness, and a secret joy she hadn't even noticed herself.

"Aish, of course I know I'm beautiful!" Im Yoona suddenly raised her voice as if piqued at someone. "I've heard that ten thousand times! From my trainee days until now! But... but..."

Her voice dropped again, her gaze becoming hazy. "He did it on purpose. Using that tone, that look, saying those things... and then, handing over a script like this."

She reached out and gently stroked the smooth surface of the document bag, her movements almost reverent. "How could I not be moved..."

Is Yoona like water?

Kim Taeyeon's fingers tightened unconsciously around the beer can, the metal making a faint "crackle."

The metaphor instantly pulled her back to that morning—a bright morning in Jeonju. She was driving to pick up Jiang Zhiyu, and the car was filled with his unique scent, like that of ripe fruit. Outside the window were receding streetlights and a blurred night view, while inside was a space so quiet she could hear their breathing.

During a long wait at a red light, Jiang Zhiyu suddenly spoke, his voice exceptionally clear in the silence:

"Taeyeon-sunbaenim, what kind of person do you think Yoona-sunbaenim is?"

She had been stunned for a moment and answered officially and cautiously, "Yoona... she's very hardworking, very professional, and very good to the members."

Jiang Zhiyu laughed, a soft sound. "Sunbaenim, that's too official. I think Yoona-sunbaenim is like water."

She turned to look at him. The neon lights outside the window slid across his profile, outlining his sharp jawline. He was looking ahead, yet his gaze seemed to pierce through the night, seeing something much deeper.

"Gentle and calm on the surface, crystal clear, so everyone thinks they can see right through her at a glance," Jiang Zhiyu said slowly. "But as long as you find the right container, she can take any shape. She can be boiling hot, frozen and sharp, or soft and flowing... She has infinite possibilities, it's just that most people are only willing to see her safest, 'prettiest' side."

The light turned green. The car started again.

Jiang Zhiyu's voice blended into the low hum of the engine. "If... I could get a little closer, see a little more clearly, I think I could definitely write a better, more fitting song for her."

At that time, what welled up in Kim Taeyeon's heart was a hint of bitterness—at his detailed observation of Im Yoona, and at the excitement in his tone, like a creator discovering the perfect material.

And now, Im Yoona sat before her, unsettled and flushed because of Jiang Zhiyu's "like water" comment.

Kim Taeyeon felt her throat tighten as if gripped by something invisible. She took a sip of beer, but the cold liquid failed to extinguish the spark of unease that had inexplicably ignited in her heart. She looked into Im Yoona's hazy eyes and asked tentatively, her voice a bit dry:

"Mo... moved? Yoona, you..."

She didn't finish because Im Yoona suddenly looked up. Though her eyes were slightly unfocused from the alcohol, her tone was exceptionally stubborn, as if she were competing with someone or trying to convince herself:

"And also~" Yoona lowered her voice and leaned forward, as if sharing a huge secret. "He smells so, so good..."

Her gaze drifted into the void as if she were reminiscing about that scent. "It's not perfume; it's... a scent that comes from his skin. Like a ripe peach, or a sun-drenched mango—sweet and warm... smelling it just makes me feel... so hungry."

Her description was too specific, too immersive. Every adjective was like a small hammer, gently tapping on a pane of glass in Kim Taeyeon's memory.

Crack.

A crack appeared in the glass.

That scent uncontrollably surfaced in Kim Taeyeon's mind—in the car in Jeonju, in her own kitchen while he made breakfast, at the station when he leaned over to say "goodbye"...

She had smelled it too.

More than once.

Even... when she had walked into the kitchen half-asleep, hugged him from behind, and buried her face in his back, that scent mixed with his body heat had nearly made her dizzy.

Kim Taeyeon's fingers unconsciously rubbed the cold beer can, the stinging sensation helping her barely maintain a surface calm.

Im Yoona finally seemed to realize she had said something she shouldn't have. She shook her head vigorously, as if trying to shake off those romantic thoughts, and her voice suddenly rose with a deliberate, emphasized clarity:

"No, no! Moved... that's for the script!"

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

Her speech quickened, as if she were chasing something or perhaps fleeing from something: "This role is too good! A former mercenary, living incognito in a fishing village, caught up in a murder case, hunted by both the police and gangsters... Gritty, wild, covered in scars, psychologically complex... It's completely unlike any type I would play! It's also completely unlike any type that anyone would think 'Im Yoona could play'!"

As if to prove something, she grabbed the file folder and somewhat roughly pulled out a few pages of the bound outline, the paper rustling in her hands. Her fingers traced over the printed text, with enough force to almost tear the paper:

"Unnie, look, this line—'I have killed people, many. But this time, I only want to protect one person.'"

Her voice, as she read the line, unconsciously deepened, taking on a hint of huskiness, miraculously fitting that imagined character.

"And here—" She flipped another page, "'You think that putting down your weapon is the same as laying down the butcher's knife? No, the butcher's knife has always been in my heart.'"

Im Yoona's eyes shone under the warm yellow light of the living room, alcohol and extreme excitement dilating her pupils, her cheeks flushed like the sunset: "This kind of line! This kind of depth! This kind of character that is completely torn apart and pieced back together! How could I not be moved!"

After she finished speaking, her chest rose and fell as she breathed slightly. Then, as if she had exhausted all her energy, her voice dropped sharply, turning into a murmur that was almost a whisper, drifting into the air:

"I wouldn't... do anything... to him."

This sentence was spoken too lightly, too fleetingly, the ending note carrying a trace of uncertain trembling.

It was less of a declaration and more of a self-admonition.

It was less of an attempt to convince others and more of an attempt to convince herself.

The living room fell into a brief silence. There was only the buzzing of the refrigerator compressor starting up, and the faint, distant sound of traffic belonging to the Seoul night outside the window.

Kim Taeyeon watched her without speaking.

She watched Im Yoona's cheeks, flushed from excitement and alcohol, watched her hand clutching the script outline so tightly that her knuckles were white, and watched the flickering flame in her eyes, mixed with desire and fear.

Some things, even if the person involved tries their best to deny or cover them up, a bystander can glimpse the surging undercurrent beneath them through those subtle cracks.

After Im Yoona finished that guilty denial, she froze herself. She seemed frightened by the uncertainty in her own words, suddenly picking up the half-finished beer and taking a large gulp. She frowned slightly as the liquid slid down her throat, then with a "thud"—not too heavy, but carrying obvious emotion—she set the beer can down on the coffee table.

The transparent glass tabletop made a crisp sound.

Im Yoona stared at the wobbling beer can, her gaze gradually becoming fierce—not a fierceness directed at anyone, but a kind of anger at the weak parts of her own heart, a sense of resignation and determination.

"Damn guy..." She said, almost through gritted teeth, enunciating every word, each one sounding like it was squeezed out from between her teeth: "I am going to act in it!"

She raised her head to look at Kim Taeyeon, her eyes burning with a near-paranoid light:

"Not only will I act in it, I will act it to the best of my ability! I will act it so he can't find a single fault! I will act it so that everyone is shocked, 'So Im Yoona could be like this!'"

"I want to use this role to slap him in the face hard!" Im Yoona clenched her fists, as if that "him" were right in front of her, "Let him know he wasn't wrong to choose me! Let him know I am worthy of every word he wrote!"

Kim Taeyeon listened quietly, her fingers still unconsciously stroking the beer can.

She picked up the beer bottle and slowly refilled Im Yoona's half-empty can. The golden liquid poured into the can, creating a fine foam that slowly settled.

She didn't know what to say at this moment.

Comfort? Encouragement? Or... a reminder?

A reminder to Im Yoona that when you are so eager to use a performance to "slap someone in the face" and to prove you are "worthy," that initial "heart-flutter" is probably no longer just about the script.

But she couldn't say it.

Because when she looked at the flame in Im Yoona's eyes that had ignited for Jiang Zhiyu, deep within her own heart, in some dark corner, a strange emotion—one that even she found shocking—was quietly sprouting.

It was a kind of... intense, exclusive possessiveness.

Like vines spreading in the darkness, silently wrapping around her heart.

Why?

This thought jumped out without warning, sharp and cold.

Why should such a good script written by Jiang Zhiyu be given to you to act?

Why was his delicate observation, his such apt metaphor—"like water"—said to you?

Why did you smell the scent on him, and describe it so... intoxicatingly?

Why... should you be the one to know this excellent side of him?

Kim Taeyeon was frightened by these thoughts churning in her mind. She took a large gulp of beer, the cold liquid burning all the way to her stomach, but it couldn't suppress the evil fire in her heart.

She watched Im Yoona's face, which was becoming more and more beautiful due to excitement and alcohol, watched her chatter on about analyzing the character and imagining the filming, watched her whole being glow with a dazzling brilliance because of this opportunity brought by Jiang Zhiyu...

Kim Taeyeon suddenly remembered that morning at home in Jeonju, when she walked into the kitchen in a half-dreaming state and hugged Jiang Zhiyu from behind, the firm muscle lines of his waist and abdomen she felt with her fingertips, the rich fruity scent lingering at the tip of her nose, and the momentary stiffness of his body followed by his relaxed low laugh...

That was something only she knew.

That was a subtle secret between her and Jiang Zhiyu that could not be told to outsiders.

And now, Im Yoona was sitting here, sharing another "secret" bestowed by Jiang Zhiyu—an excellent opportunity that could make her career soar and make everyone look at her with new respect.

Kim Taeyeon felt a strong sense of imbalance.

She even viciously thought: It would be better if Im Yoona rejected this script. It would be better if she were afraid of challenges and chose to remain in the status quo. It would be better if this role, carefully polished by Jiang Zhiyu and full of charm just by reading the description, eventually didn't find a suitable protagonist, remained on paper, or... was played by someone else.

This thought made her shudder.

How could she think this way? This is Yoona, her sister who has walked through more than a decade of storms with her, closer than kin.

But that voice was still whispering: Why must Jiang Zhiyu's excellence be seen by others? Especially... be seen by Yoona?

"Unnie?" Im Yoona's voice pulled her back from her dangerous thoughts.

Kim Taeyeon looked up, meeting Im Yoona's puzzled gaze.

"Unnie, what's wrong? Your complexion isn't good." Im Yoona asked with concern, the alcohol making her words more direct than usual, "Do you not support me in acting in this either?"

Kim Taeyeon took a deep breath, forcing herself to pull out a smile, even though she knew this smile must be very stiff:

"No. I just think... this role is indeed very difficult." She chose a safe entry point, "Action scenes, psychological scenes, image subversion... You will have a very hard time."

"I'm not afraid of hard work!" Im Yoona said immediately, her eyes firm, "What I'm afraid of is... forever remaining in the 'pretty but safe' box. Unnie, do you understand? This opportunity is like... someone suddenly handing you a key, telling you that there is a completely different world outside, and asking if you want to go and see."

She looked at the deep night outside the window, her voice as light as a dream:

"I want to go see."

Kim Taeyeon was silent.

She understood. She understood too well. As a singer, wasn't she also constantly looking for that "key" to open up a new musical world?

It's just that the person handing the key... was Jiang Zhiyu.

This made the thorn in her heart prick even deeper.

"Then go," eventually, Kim Taeyeon heard herself say, her voice calm, devoid of emotion, "If that's what you want to do."

Im Yoona smiled, that smile dazzlingly bright. She lunged over, hugging Kim Taeyeon, pressing her hot cheek against her sister's shoulder:

"Thank you, Unnie! I knew you would support me!"

Kim Taeyeon's body stiffened for a moment, but quickly relaxed, and she raised her hand to gently pat Im Yoona's back.

The faint scent of shampoo from Im Yoona's hair wafted to the tip of her nose, along with the tipsy smell of alcohol on her.

But in Kim Taeyeon's perception, she seemed to faintly smell a trace of... the sweet scent of ripe fruit that didn't belong to Im Yoona.

Was it an illusion?

Or was that script also tainted with that person's scent?

Kim Taeyeon closed her eyes and hugged the person in her arms a little tighter.

Seoul outside the window, its lights never sleeping all night. In every window of this city, stories of desire, struggle, jealousy, and helplessness might be playing out.

And in this dorm of Girls Generation, alcohol evaporated, secrets whispered, a black script lay quietly on the coffee table, like a giant stone thrown into the lake of the heart, the ripples it stirred were quietly changing the flow of certain things in depths unknown to anyone.

Kim Taeyeon knew that some words she would never say out loud.

Like that dark jealousy that was quietly sprouting over the opportunity in her sister's hands.

Like that ambiguous hug on that morning in Jeonju that only she and Jiang Zhiyu knew about.

Like the thing screaming crazily in some corner of her heart—Why can't Jiang Zhiyu's excellence only be seen by me alone?