itotoro

—Kim Kitsuragi, Disco Elysium

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Chuu the idol is a doll with a dainty frame and a ribbon in her hair. Chuu the idol is the nation's darling, a twittering bird that sings for the world.

At the end of the day's schedules, Kim Jiwoo sheds all that. Walks to the convenience store late at night in a baggy hoodie and a cap that hides the softer features of her face.

It's comforting, how unrecognizable she is after hours of schedule. People passing on the street don't spare Jiwoo a second glance, but point at and photograph Chuu the idol on the billboards overhead. The clothes add bulk to her shoulders and back, a late night camouflage for an idol too tired to be herself.

Themself. Somethingself. Jiwoo just wants to get an energy drink before she plays the night away on Crazy Arcade. The convenience store doors slide open, fluorescents so bright that Jiwoo has to pull the cap lower on her head. She makes a beeline for the cooler, grabs the darkest-colored drink she can find, and goes straight to the cashier before anyone sees her like this.

The cashier covers her mouth, eyes wide with surprise. “Chuu?!”

Jiwoo smiles as kindly as she can. “You know me?”

“Y-yeah.” The cashier fumbles with Jiwoo's purchase, bows her head low as she bags it. “You're my favorite idol, you're so pretty in person.”

“Wow!” The persona of Chuu fits like a glove. Jiwoo's voice brightens with trained excitement. “Thank you for your support.” She tops it with a sweet exclamation, hands shaped in a half-hearted heart.

Chuu the idol falls away as soon as Jiwoo leaves the store, but glass walls of the high-rise buildings around her paint a different picture: a young girl in a hoodie too big for her frame, a stature too short to be nothing but feminine. Jiwoo's steps slow to a stop as she scans the reflection from top to bottom.

Taller. Broader. Happier. Jiwoo imagines her body made of golden wire, constricting what's underneath. She pulls the visor of her cap lower on her head until she sees nothing at all.