02:22 PM

kang hui

"숲이 아닌 바다이던가?"

about –

read more about hui here.

background –

Kang Hui-seong has always lived life in the fast lane. It's the only way they know how to navigate through life, and with the weight of their parents’, and their own, expectations, it's the only way to keep up. They've got a reputation for it, too; their fierce commitment to collecting accolades and achievements with ruthless– and reckless– abandon has earned them friends, allies, rivals, and enemies alike. But whether they love or hate them, like them or loathe them, what they can all agree on is that Hui gets what they want, when they want it, and they'll get it, fair and square, even if it's at their own expense.It started with wanting to be at the top of their class. Then it was student council president. Admission to one of the top universities in the country. Bachelor's degree with honors. A master's degree, even. It was never enough– there was always a newer, loftier goal to strive for after each victory. Something better to aim at. Something more to claim for themselves.Even the corporate ladder wasn't tall enough for their aspirations. The never-ending deadlines, the constant meetings cozying up to higher-ups, the promises of promotions, raises, and praise kept them working, working, working themselves to the bone, all in the name of success. Colleagues envied them, gave them the side eye, commiserated over coffee breaks about Hui's breakneck determination, all while plastering on half-sincere smiles and begrudging utterances of "We don't know what we'd do without them" in front of their superiors. Whispers under covered mouths, hushed exchanges of rumors about their personal life, murmurs of "Do they even do anything other than work?", "They're pretty ruthless", "Too cutthroat, don't you think?”– none of it mattered.They didn't care what the others said. They still wanted more. Craved more. Needed more. Because the chase is all they'd ever known.Their crowning achievement was being promoted to editor status after only a year at a nationally renowned publication, the youngest to ever do it at the age of 23. They should've been elated. It should have been something to bask in, something to celebrate– something to satisfy them. It was everything they had worked for. Record breaking. Impressive. A true testament to how much blood, sweat, and tears they put into their work.But it still wasn't enough for Hui. They wanted more. Craved more. Needed more. They had to make a name for themselves.So at the ripe age of 24, they decide to start their own lifestyle magazine with nothing but their name, a dream, and a cramped Seoul officetel. They hit the ground running, tirelessly vetting which professionals– writers, designers, photographers, editors– would fit their vision, buttering them up at countless networking events, leveraging their connections, until they've got the picture perfect lineup. They oversee the design process from front to end, carefully curating with their team for weeks until the logo and the layout are to their liking, and then it's onto the content. Their writers go through tens of drafts before Hui signs off on them, and their photographers spend hours of overtime as they go through each cut and personally approve the ones that get published. It has to be perfect. They expect nothing less.Slice of Life launches in May of 2023, but the first few issues don't make much noise, which makes sense– they're only just starting out, and, despite their achievements, Hui's still just a rookie without much influence, and barely anyone even knows they exist. But his former editor in chief and boss, a well-respected, no-nonsense woman with the kind of scrutiny and sway that would rival that of Miranda Priestly, posts an Instagram story recommending their September 2023 issue complete with a link to their digital edition, adding a fond comment referencing Hui's time working under her. With her blessing, Slice of Life becomes the talk of the nation. Readers can't get enough of the witty, down-to-earth and yet elevated tone of the articles (all the other publications take themselves too seriously or try too hard to be relatable, so a balance of both will help us stand out, Hui had said), while still maintaining a sleek, professional look and feel. (thanks to the extremely talented design team Hui had scouted and overseen.)The best part? It's all attributed to Hui. Their entire staff, their collaborators, fellow industry professionals, and beloved celebrities alike all sing the praises of Kang Hui-seong. Them. Their vision. Their direction.Eventually, the general public catches on, and before long, Hui's the new media darling, and their inbox overflows with interview requests and love calls of all kinds. They're the perfect rags to riches story: the people love an underdog, and Hui is nothing if not a self-made person that came from humble beginnings, who made it to the top through sheer hard work and determination. Headline after headline lauds their success, their drive, their grit, and when they're in front of flashing cameras, microphones being shoved into their face, asking about their inspirations and next steps, Hui thinks they've finally made it. This is it. They can finally be satisfied. They're respected. Loved. Envied. Hated, even.But it's still not enough for them to stop. They can't stop, not now, not when they've built up so much momentum. They're addicted to the validation; now that they've had a taste of true success, they can't get enough.So they book themselves to a nearly suffocating degree. They're practically everywhere– radio shows, talk shows, press conferences, news features, product launches, charity galas– all while they're still overseeing every aspect of Slice of Life, from top to bottom. They're still editing every single article personally, filing through hundreds of PSDs from the design team and thousands of cuts from various photoshoots, selecting the perfect one for the next issue, researching and writing their own articles.Their rope, and, with it, their patience, wears thin, but they press on. They have to. They can't possibly stop now.By the time Hui realizes they've flown too close to the sun, it's too late. The wax wings melt. They veer off the track. The light dims. They plummet, and their fall from grace is nothing short of a spectacle.For the first time, they crack under the pressure. They can feel themselves faltering, but instead of doing the reasonable thing and enlisting the help of someone else, they announce that they'll be on an indefinite leave, and take off for their grandmother's house in Gyeongju, citing personal reasons, and to email or call for any emergencies. No one questions it– everyone knows exactly why they need it– and Hui can't let anyone see them as anything short of perfection.As expected, Gyeongju is a much more forgiving city than Seoul, and his grandmother is certainly far cry from his parents and colleagues, all gentle affirmations and tender gestures. It's a nice change of pace, one where Hui feels like they can finally breathe. They've always kept a strict, orderly routine, and a well-rehearsed one, at that– they wake up at the same time every day like clockwork, with every single task planned down to the minute, on top of their 500 different habits they've cultivated over the years. Each aspect of their life has been nailed down to a familiar perfection, and they've never once strayed from it.But in Gyeongju, time seems to move slower. At least, that's what it feels like. The leisurely pace that the city operates on lets them loosen the grip they have on their life. Slowly but surely, they let themselves wake up a little later, eat a little more, and get lost in the things they love.And each day, without fail, their grandmother brings them a cup of tea. She always tries to brew them a different one each time, claiming "I have far too much tea, you might as well try all of them while you're here". (which is true– Hui can't even fathom how one woman has gathered this much tea in her cabinets.) They've always preferred tea over coffee, but there's something about the way she brews it that makes the taste feel richer, fuller, deeper, even though all she does is boil tap water in her creaky old kettle and pour it into a cup. Maybe she's got some secret grandmotherly blessing. Or maybe it's just the taste of their newfound ease that's flavoring their tea.Upon their return to Seoul, to everyone's shock, they immediately relinquish their editor in chief position, sell their lavish Cheongdam-dong apartment, and start looking at listings in Gyeongju, and even though it feels like a drastic departure from what they've always done, it feels like the right thing to do. It feels like they're finally coming home.Speaking of home, they find a cozy two bedroom house only a block away from their grandmother, and they immediately know it's the one, so of course, they waste no time signing off on the paperwork and moving their belongings into the space. As a housewarming gift, their grandmother bestows her entire tea collection upon them– “it’s in better hands with you, anyways”– and from then on, they set upon trying every single one she’s collected over the decades. There’s a certain magic and charm to be found in each cup, and, after a few weeks of perfecting their brewing technique and steeping times (and enjoying it every single time) and losing themselves in thinking up new tea blends to try together (and making note of which ones actually work), it almost makes too much logical sense for them to open a teahouse.After drafting up a business plan and scouring location after location, they settle upon an empty location on Hwangnidan-gil– naturally, given that it’s the main hotspot for cafes and trendy food places in the city. Hui gets to furnishing the place immediately, and carefully curates the space like it’s their child: some light wood for the tables and chairs, paper lanterns for lighting, various houseplants, a tea bar in the center, and, of course, they commission a cute little clover logo to put in front and scatter around the interior (thank god for their savings, because this all costs a very pretty penny). Before they know it, their pride and joy, 4leaf Teahouse, is ready to open for business.4leaf’s launch is modest, but respectable, and it’s received well by the local food influencers, notably due to the unique loose leaf tea blends that Hui has painstakingly curated, one by one. It feels nice, and warm, (like a cup of tea!) to have their efforts acknowledged again, without any malicious intent looming beneath the surface. Friends, family, and, surprisingly, former colleagues all come to congratulate them on their new venture. (Notably, their parents are missing. They’re sorely disappointed that they’ve lost their main bragging chip.) Headlines still follow them for a bit, wondering where the renowned editor in chief had abruptly disappeared off to, but they soon dissipiate, as does the public's attention, and they move on to the next rising star at the drop of a hat— just as they'd hoped.Surrounded by their loved ones, the rich aroma of brewing tea, and the soft din of their city pop records in the background, they think this might be what success actually feels like.

rules –

connections –

plotlines –

if any of these plots interest you, or if you'd like to brainstorm a new one entirely, please shoot me a dm, or ask me for my discord!