"The Unfiltered Rise of Iseul
Once a disgraced idol clawing her way back from a devastating leak, Iseul has emerged as K-pop's most unabashedly candid star. The 27-year-old trendsetter has built an empire by shunning the very rules that sought to confine her.
Two years after explicit photos surfaced that abruptly ended Iseul's tenure in the popular girl group Hayze, she mounted a brazen comeback with a scathing solo single that rocketed to #1. That was just the first defiant act in Iseul's ascent from exile to self-made mogul.
Today, Iseul is an established artist with three albums under her belt. She owns her own wildly successful record label that she co-founded with producer friend Kim Seungmin. The label has debuted several fiercely talented girl groups helmed by Iseul herself, who works exclusively with fellow female artists.
But Iseul's true legacy extends far beyond bops and beats. She is a cultural phenomenon renowned for her unfiltered, insurrectionary spirit.
Shattering the carefully curated façade most idols adopt, Iseul speaks brazenly about dating, sex, feminism, and politics in interviews. She challenges traditional cultural norms at every turn, becoming an emblem of empowered, modern womanhood for her fervent supporters.
"The K-pop machine tries to mold you into this perfect, sexless doll," Iseul remarked in a recent interview. "I refuse to be confined to antiquated ideals that no longer reflect the women who make this industry run."
While controversy perpetually swirls around her, Iseul has captivated fans worldwide with her authenticity and courage to broach taboo topics. As her former group fades into obscurity and her old label flounders, this uncompromising renegade has turned a crushing downfall into a landmark career by dismantling the very system that once rejected her."
* * *
The dressing room buzzes with a flurry of activity as my styling team flits around me. Brushes sweep over my cheekbones, dusting shimmering pigments that catch the light. A makeup artist darts in, wand of ruby red lipstick poised, while another tends to the dramatic swoop of my smokey eye makeup.
"You're going to slay tonight, unnie," Sunhwa, my head stylist, says with an approving nod as she examines her team's handiwork.
A devilish grin spreads across my lips. I can't wait to step onto that red carpet and have every camera fixated on me. The whispers, the scandalized gasps—I live for the roar of the crowd, be it adulation or disdain.
Slinking into the daring dress laid out for me, I drink in my reflection. The sheer, mesh fabric hugs every curve, leaving little to the imagination. Golden tassels sway at my hips with each sashay of my movements.
"Stunning as always," Sunhwa remarks with a proud smile. "Now let's go make jaws drop."
As we head for the awards venue, a thrill of anticipation courses through me. So much has changed since those dark days when I was cast out of the very industry I gave my blood, sweat, and tears to. My own dance studio has exploded in popularity, my choreography viral sensations. And not a soul knows the face behind those viral videos is mine.
Tonight, all of Seoul will be reminded that I'm the one who dictates the rules of the game now. I set the trends, push boundaries, and shatter conventions with every red carpet strut.
The roar of the crowd grows deafening as our car approaches the venue. Flashes from photographer's cameras pierce the night like lightning. I am the eye of the storm, and I've never felt more alive.
The car door swings open, and I step out, instantly bathed in a flood of flashing lights. The crowd's murmur crescendos to a roar. I revel in the moment, the air thick with excitement and speculation.
"Isn't that Kwon Iseul?" voices whisper, eyes widening as they drink in my appearance.
I should've gone with something understated, but understated doesn't make headlines. My dress does, though. It's sleek and risqué, with golden tassels swishing around my hips. The sheer fabric clings to my curves, leaving just enough to the imagination.
I start down the carpet, each step a little performance. Photographers shout my name, capturing every angle.
"Iseul! Over here! Give us that signature smile!" someone calls out.
I oblige, flashing a grin that's more feral than friendly. Gotta keep it spicy.
As I pass by, I hear snippets of conversation.
"She's so bold. I could never wear that."
"The queen of controversy strikes again."
"Damn, has she lost weight? She looks incredible."
I throw a look over my shoulder and wink at someone in the crowd, which ignites a wave of excited chatter.
Midway down the carpet, a reporter manages to sidle up beside me. Her microphone is thrust in my face before I can deflect.
"Iseul, what inspired tonight's look?" she asks, her eyes shining with barely concealed curiosity.
I arch an eyebrow. "Fearlessness," I reply simply, letting the weight of the word hang in the air.
"And what are you most excited about tonight?"
"Winning," I say with a gleam in my eye, because humble is the last thing on my mind.
The reporter looks momentarily taken aback before regaining her composure. She's probably expecting the usual canned responses. Well, she won't get that from me.
Moving on without another glance, I notice an older couple staring at me as if I've just sprouted wings and started singing opera.
"I told you she'd wear something outrageous," the woman whispers.
I smirk but move on without acknowledging them. The pearl-clutching is always one of my personal favorite reactions.
Finally reaching the photo line area, I pose, back straight, exuding confidence from every pore. The cameras snap like they're on hyperdrive.
A photographer gestures for me to turn fully to the left. I spin, giving them the full effect of the dress, my hair a cascade of midnight against the nude fabric. The tassels swish with every movement, adding just the right amount of motion to the pictures.
Behind the cameras, I spot several media personalities whispering to each other, eyes locked on me. Good. Let them wonder, let them talk.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Han Boyun, an idol I used to talk to when we were all backstage back in my Hayze days. We debuted around the same time. She started to avoid my eye after the picture scandal.
She offers a polite nod now but keeps her distance, as if my scandal might be contagious. I flash her a confident smile, nonetheless. People are so predictably disappointing.
Once the photographers have had their fill, I continue down the line, offering more smiles and winks to the crowd. The air is electric, and I revel in it. Each step down the red carpet a statement of defiance.
Heads swivel as I pass, and behind me, the whispering doubles. I can almost feel the speculation brewing: what's Iseul up to now? Little do they know, every move, every choice, it's all deliberate. My very presence here proves that I'm not just surviving, but thriving.
I glance sideways and catch sight of a banner featuring Hayze, my old group. Funny enough, they're still using images from our debut days. I doubt they've made new ones since I left. They're like a bygone era, a ghostly reminder of who I used to be.
I stride right past it. My future deserves the spotlight now.
As I near the entrance, the ambient noise of camera clicks and murmurs start to fade, replaced by the thumping beats of music from inside. I slow my pace, savoring these last few moments of the red carpet. This feeling, this rush, is addictive. But the night is just beginning, and if I've learned anything, it's that I don't need anyone's permission to shake things up.
Reaching the entrance, I pause, taking a deep breath. There's still so much to conquer tonight. The stage is set; it's time to shine.
With a final wave to the crowd, I step inside, the night awaiting my next move.
***
Inside the auditorium, the atmosphere pulses with a blend of anticipation and energy. The stage, bathed in an array of colorful lights, draws the room's attention. Despite the grandeur, it's almost kind of cozy, the space between attendees and performers doesn't feel quite so large tonight. My heart races as I sit at my table, fingers drumming on my thigh.
I wait, clapping along and cheering as each award is presented and handed out. There are a lot of familiar face. I look up every time a new award comes up. Finally, the screens change and Album Of The Year is flashing. I sit up, my spine tensing while I wait as the hosts talk and run through the list of nominees, smiling when my name is listed and the crowd cheers. I suck in a breath and wait as they present the envelope with the winner and watch as the host opens it and reads.
"And the award for Album of the Year goes to…" The host, Go Jaewook, stands on stage, his voice booming through the speakers.
I hold my breath, though I don't even know why I'm nervous. It's like a reflex, an old habit from when every win felt improbable.
"Kwon Iseul!"
Time seems to slow as the clapping and whoops of the crowd hit me in waves. I stand, plastering a smirk on my face and making my way to the stage. Heads turn, eyes tracking my every move. I've walked countless red carpets, faced a sea of lenses, but this walk feels different. This moment is mine—hard-won and savored.
Jaewook greets me with a dimpled smile that sends a strange flutter through my chest. I shake it off, mentally storing it away, something to add to the catalog of moments I can replay later.
"Congratulations," he mouths, though I'm a world away.
Turning to face the audience, I cradle the award in my hands. It's heavier than I imagined, or maybe it's the weight of everything leading up to this moment pressing down on me. For a second, I just stand there, letting the applause soak into my very soul.
Finally, I raise the microphone to my lips. "Wow, thank you. Thank you everyone for this. It's … unreal."
A murmur of encouragement ripples through the audience. Lights reflect off the award, scattering little sparkles around the room. I take a steadying breath.
"When I first started this journey, I was just a girl with a dream," I begin, my voice steady but laced with the edges of raw emotion. "A dream to dance, to sing, to create. To do it my way … even when it felt impossible."
As I scan the crowd, I see familiar faces—friends, peers, supporters, even some skeptics. They're all here, part of the chaos that's been my life these past years.
"I faced a lot of doors closing in my face, a lot of people telling me I couldn't do it. Telling me I was too much, or not enough." My voice falters for a moment, the memories vivid behind my eyes. "But I learned that every 'no' is just a step toward a bigger 'yes.'"
Applause erupts again, this time softer, more intimate. It's not the wild cheers of the masses, but the warm acknowledgment of shared struggle.
"I have to thank my incredible team. People who believed in me when it seemed like nobody else did. Thank you, Seungmin, for being there through those endless nights in the studio. Your support, your friendship, has been invaluable."
I pause, letting the room breathe with me. "And to my fans," I say, a smile spreading across my face. "You've been my rock, my inspiration. Every message, every tweet, every ounce of love you've sent my way has kept me going. You are the reason I stand here tonight."
A wave of cheers and shouts comes from the back, where I know my dedicated fans are, always showing up and showing love.
"I've been called a lot of things—controversial, troublemaker, defiant. But tonight, I want to embrace those labels. I never wanted to fit into anyone's box. I wanted to break out, to shatter expectations and redefine what it means to be a K-pop idol."
The energy in the room shifts, the audience no doubt reading into the meaning of my words. I lift the award high for everyone to see. "This isn't just for me. It's for everyone who believes in the power of doing it your way. Here's to breaking more norms, smashing more stereotypes, and to never being silent!"
The crescendo of applause and cheers is an incredible feeling. I take one more moment, soaking in the warmth and admiration, before stepping back from the mic.
Looking out at the audience, I catch Jaewook's eyes again. I catch something in his gaze, a little flicker of admiration maybe, something genuine. We exchange a small nod as I exit the stage, clutching the award close to my chest. As I make my way back to my seat, each step feels lighter.
Tonight was a victory, not just for me, but for everyone daring to dream without limits.
***
The applause still echoes in my ears long after I step off stage, clutching my award. The bright lights fade behind me as I move through the curtains, my heart still beating in sync with the roaring crowd. I walk, almost float, through the labyrinthine backstage corridors, the adrenaline pulsing in my veins.
I exhale, trying to steady myself, when suddenly, I catch sight of someone standing just a few feet away. There, leaning casually against the wall, looking every bit the movie star, is Go Jaewook. His striking angular eyes lock onto mine, and he steps forward, calm and cool and looking every bit enticing and magnetic.
"Miss Kwon." He gives me an acknowledging dip of his chin.
"Congratulations, it was well deserved," he says, a genuine smile tugging at his lips.
"Thank you. Are you a fan, then?" I say, trying to sound casual, though my heart does a little flip. Up close, he's even more captivating—sharp cheekbones, the cutest dimples, and eyes that seem to see straight through the bravado I wear like armor.
I manage a grin. "Have to admit, I'm a little flattered."
"I really am," he laughs. "I'll admit I'm not really into pop music these days, but I make an exception for yours."
I laugh, momentarily letting my guard down. "Now you really are trying to flatter me."
One of his eyebrows quirks up. "I'm not. I just think there's something rare about you as an artist."
"Rare, huh?" I tilt my head, studying him. "Don't know if I should trust a word you say. I have seen your acting."
A hint of a laugh escapes him. "I think that was meant to be a compliment?"
"Didn't you just win like three best actor awards? This isn't news."
"You're keeping count, huh?" He teases, a playful look in his eyes. "Oh, please tell me I'm your celebrity crush."
Now that gets a laugh out of me. "Caught me. I've only been cyberstalking you on every social media site."
He grins. "I'm honored. But you don't have to cyber-stalk, I give you full permission to openly adore me. Mention it in a few interviews if you really want to stroke my ego."
The flirty tone surprises me and makes my ears perk. Is he … serious? There's a little crackle of something in the air, I'm suddenly hyper-aware of the short distance between us.
"I don't know if that would be good for your image," I say, trying to keep my voice light, though I mean it in all seriousness. "Every time a man gets his name wrapped up with mine, they end up regretting it. And you have a notoriously squeaky-clean record. Concerningly so." I raise my brows at him.
He grins. "Not for lack of trying. And I'm not afraid of a little controversy."
"Aren't you?" I muse, not entirely sure how to take that.
"I kind of admire you for that, actually." He looks me steadily in the eye. "You are who you are. I like that you're honest and open about your life to the public. It's refreshing when everyone else is terrified of a scandal."
I don't know whether to laugh or roll my eyes. "It wasn't my choice to be so unfiltered. That was something I had to do in order to save my career."
He nods. "I know. I think you were amazing for that too. For not letting what happened stop you."
The praise feels like both a compliment and a challenge. I feel my guard rising, like armor being drawn on. "Look, Jaewook, you're sweet, and I appreciate it. But I'm not looking for…" I trail off, unsure how to finish the thought.
His expression shifts slightly, an understanding glint in his eyes. "I'm not asking for anything, Iseul. I just have a lot of respect for you as an artist, that's all."
"Is that really all?" I find myself asking, though I wish I hadn't.
He laughs lightly. "Really. I always wanted to tell you that when I got the chance to meet you. Today I did."
I consider him for a long moment and then nod in acceptance. "Well, thank you. And I really did mean it. I have seen your acting, and I am a fan."
Jaewook's lips curve and he gestures me to the side. "Come on, I've got a few minutes before I have to be back onstage."
Some junior K-pop group I've never interacted with is currently performing the half-show event, and I know he's got at least a ten-minute break before they can break down the stage again for the next awards.
We move to a quieter corner, away from the bustle of stagehands and other performers. Jaewook leans back against the wall, completely at ease, while I settle into a nearby chair, still clutching my award.
"Are you enjoying it?" I start, "Being the heartthrob of the moment?"
He laughs again, the sound warm and infectious. "It can be … interesting. I'd be lying, and I'd definitely be in the wrong industry if I didn't like all the attention, but it's a lot too."
I nod, understanding more than I'd like to admit. "Yeah, I'm sure it is. But at least it's good attention for now."
Jaewook's a little older than me and he's been acting for a while, but only recently started to get the spotlight as a leading male. For him, all of the media attention is probably new.
"I'm not sure if I like it. So far, my image has been clean because there's really nothing in my life that would cause a controversy. I'm not sure if I'd rather have my image or have a personal life," he says, his gaze softening.
"A personal life is even harder to maintain when everyone expects controversy from you, too," I counter, though there's no bite in my words.
He leans in slightly. "Maybe. But at least you're living."
He's right, but it's hard to swallow all the same. The risks of opening up—even a little—feel risky in this industry where trust is rare.
"If you say so," I say with a half-smile.
We lapse into comfortable silence, the noise of backstage a distant hum. For a moment, it feels like the world has shrunk down to just the two of us.
It's tempting to let this moment stretch on. I think I like Jaewook a little bit. He's not judgmental of me, that much is clear. I briefly consider extending an invitation for drinks or to ask for his number. But caution keeps me silent. Jaewook's kind words and easy charm are almost too inviting, and I know better than to dive headfirst into the deep end without a second thought.
"Well," I finally say, standing up. "Both for the congratulations and for saying what you said."
He stands as well, offering another one of those disarming smiles. "There's nothing to thank me for. I hope I see you again. Soon maybe?"
Jaewook's openness sticks with me as I turn to leave. A man like him, with his spotless image, showing interest in someone like me? It's a recipe for trouble. Am I just a challenge to him? Or worse, am I a potential scandal to spice up his pristine record?
"I should get back to my team. We've got a lot to go over for tomorrow," I say, dismissing myself subtly.
He hesitates, but then nods, offering me a subdued smile.
As I walk away, I can feel his eyes on me, and it gnaws at me. I've been burned before, by someone more familiar and more trusted than a popular actor. It's made me gun-shy. Perhaps a little too much at times.
Opening the door to my dressing room feels like a small victory in itself. The room is a world apart, filled with the quiet hum of triumph. I place my award on the counter, its surface gleaming under the lights. I let the door close behind me, closing it all out.
Alone, I allow myself a moment of vulnerability. Staring at the trophy, I think of everything that's led me here. The betrayal, the fights, the late nights filled with music and resolute determination. I've emerged stronger, sure, but with a heart more guarded than ever before. Jaewook's interest feels alluring, and while it's tempting, it's dangerous too.
I brush my hair away from my face, smoothing down my gown, forcing myself to refocus. My phone buzzes on the table next to the award, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glance at the screen—a flood of congratulatory messages and missed calls. Friends, fellow artists, supporters. Familiar names mixed with the occasional unknown number.
A knock on the door startles me, and my already frayed nerves tingle. One of my team members peeks in, a look of joy mixed with anticipation on her face.
"Hey boss, people are asking for a winner's speech," she says, holding up a phone.
I shoot her a smile, even as the exhaustion begins to seep in. "Sure thing. Prepare to record."
She sets up the phone as I take a moment to compose myself, my thoughts still half-lingering on my brief exchange with Jaewook. But I push it all aside. There's no room for doubt here.
"We're live in 3 … 2… 1…" she says, starting the recording.
"Hey everyone!" I wave at the camera, a genuine smile breaking across my lips. Focus, what I need is focus. Nothing else.
* * *
I collapse onto my bed, the cool sheets a relief after an evening of nonstop excitement. My little trophy sits on the dresser, glinting under the soft light. My mind's still buzzing, not just from the win but from everything else; the cameras, the questions, the host…
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I sit up, frowning. It's almost midnight. Who the hell is calling me? The screen lights up with an unfamiliar number. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I answer.
"Hello?"
"Iseul, hi! It's Jaewook."
I blink, confusion and a surprising amount of excitement flooding through me. "Jaewook? How did you get my number?"
"Uh … I may have asked around a little," he replies, sounding the slightest bit sheepish. "Should I not have?"
"No, it's just. A surprise I guess?" I smile slightly, even though he can't see it. "What prompted this?"
"I don't know. I just … I guess I felt something when I saw you in person. I want to know you, to talk with you."
His sincerity is obvious. I've learned to spot bullshit a mile away, but this feels different. His words don't come across as empty flattery.
"I don't know what to say," I admit, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable.
"You can start by telling me how your night went. How did you celebrate?"
I lean back into my pillows, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to fade. "It was good. Just a small after-party, nothing too exciting."
"I would've thought you'd prefer exciting."
I laugh, an unexpected warmth spreading through me. "You barely know me, Jaewook."
"No, but I can guess. You seem pretty open and honest. I assumed what you see is what you get, and you don't seem boring at all."
He has a way with words, and for the first time in a while, I don't feel like I'm being judged. "What about you? If I were to assume you are the way you present yourself in public, you seem pretty clean-cut and uncomplicated."
"That's a misconception I'm afraid I'm partially responsible for. I'm a bit of a workaholic, it leaves the media very little dirt to dig up about me," he jokes, but I think he might be a little serious.
"So, you're not really a squeaky-clean poster child heartthrob?" I question, injecting a bit of humor into a very purposefully veiled compliment.
"A heartthrob for sure. I worked hard on earning that title."
"But not a square who never has any fun." I feel myself smile, rubbing a circle into my wrist.
"I haven't had much opportunity for it recently, but I promise I can be fun."
"Mm," I hum, "You've done a really good job convincing everyone you're mild-mannered and polished, I don't know if your image fits very well with mine."
"I'm open to the challenge of convincing you," he counters, inviting.
"How do you plan to do that?"
"How about you start by letting me take you on a date?"
I start, surprised and a little pleased by his forwardness. I didn't expect it from him, not that I know much about Jaewook as a person. We don't run in the same circles, musicians and actors only have the barest bit of overlap in the industry if you're not both. I've never heard anything bad about him either, though, and that's saying something with how many idols have skeletons in their closets.
Still, I hesitate.
I'm wary out of habit, admittedly, but not without reason. I've learned to wear my scandalous reputation like a crown publicly, but privately it's become a heavy burden to bear. My well-publicized dating life has created a hard-to-shed reputation. Every new man I meet is a coin toss. It's equally likely that they approach me because they believe what they've heard and want to try something wild and novel or if they are genuinely interested in getting to know me as I am.
Jaewook seems, at least so far, to be genuine, but I'm a skeptic now, and it's hard to tell when I have no previous knowledge of him. At least other men in the industry have their own reputations. Jaewook is a blank slate. I can't message his exes or ask my friends who've hooked up with him. He has no paper trail.
"I'll make sure it's somewhere discreet," Jaewook says, as if he senses my apprehension.
I snort lightly. I'm not exactly known for being discreet, and the media stick to me like fleas. I'm like a gold mine for their headlines, a story always close on my heels.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" I wonder, biting my lip. I'm highly tempted, and it's been a while since I've had a little casual fun.
"I've gotten pretty good at dodging tabloids. If you want this to stay private, I'll take care of it. I promise I'll make it worth your time."
Well, how can I resist that?
"Alright, you've piqued my interest," I admit, throwing caution to the wind, "Impress me."