Chapter 12
I HAVE MOST OF THE NEXT SHOOTING DAY OFF, since it’s mainly dedicated to getting Minjee caught up with everything.
On one hand, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with the chaos of everyone trying to naturally fit Minjee’s character into the show—the call sheet for today was a mess— but on the other, I feel restless.
I’m constantly getting up from my desk to pace around the apartment.
It’s Christmas Eve, and Mom has decorations set up in our living room.
Our ceiling is too low for a real Christmas tree, but we have a cute fake one set up by our TV.
Gold tinsel and round ornaments painted with all nine of Santa’s reindeer adorn the tree, and I mournfully stare at Rudolph’s face as I think about my current situation.
I hate to admit it, but I’m scared. What if I get left behind on the show?
It’s probably just FOMO , I think to myself. Stop being so paranoid.
Sophia seems to agree when I tell her what’s going on over the phone.
“Just concentrate on your studies for now,” she says. “Think of today as a much-needed break from the industry. Get a lot of schoolwork done so you can focus on the show when you need to be on set.”
“And when I finish with my work?”
Sophia laughs. “Hana, you’re still a kid!
Play games on your phone. Watch a K-drama.
Read a webtoon... or whatever it is teens do these days.
Don’t let this industry completely suck up what’s left of your childhood.
And try to relax. Financially, we’re fine.
You’re still billed as lead actress. As far as I know, your character isn’t in any danger of being cut from the show. Just keep trying your best, okay?”
I sigh quietly, wishing it were that easy to dispel my fears. “Okay.”
Eventually, I manage to focus on my work long enough to finish a decent amount.
But hours later, when I’m waiting on set after being done with hair and makeup, I’m tense, my skin buzzing with nerves as I watch everyone run around.
We’re behind schedule again, so I have to stand behind the camera and watch as Minjee and Bryan hold hands, acting like a couple.
That two-timing player , I think, suddenly furious at Hyun on Sora’s behalf. It’s always frustrating when a K-drama character ends up being a complete lowlife, and it feels a lot worse when you know that the character wasn’t originally written to be such a jerk in the first place.
Dread builds up inside me as I wonder how the audiences back home will react to the turn of events.
Will they really be more engaged and caught up in all the drama when Hyun gets himself caught in a love triangle?
Or will they end up being disappointed in him like I am?
It’s such a huge gamble that I’m surprised the higher-ups decided to go through with this plan.
Hopefully they made the right choice , I think.
The entire dynamic of the set feels different, from the way the director addresses us to the way that the other crew members interact with each other.
Stop being so psyched out. I take a deep breath to calm myself down.
I promised myself that I wouldn’t let Sora be left behind. And by the time it’s finally my turn to be in front of the camera, I’m filled with a calm resolve.
“Wow, how long did they keep you waiting?” Bryan asks me before the camera starts rolling.
I shrug. “Not long. I got a lot of studying done back at home before I came.”
Bryan raises his eyebrows at me, but he doesn’t say anything.
“All right, we’re ready!” announces Director Cha. “Actors, your places.”
The scene we’re about to film is pretty dramatic, since it’s the confrontation scene where Hyun finally gets Sora to admit that she remembers the past like he does.
The moment the camera starts rolling, Bryan, in character, grabs my hand as I turn away. It’s the classic backward K-drama hand-grab, one of those clichés that everyone loves to hate but can’t resist wishing it’d happen to them in real life. I try my best not to laugh at how cheesy it is.
“Sora,” he says. “Just now, the way you looked at me. You remember, don’t you?”
The camera focuses on my face. I squeeze my eyes shut, like I really do feel the weight of four centuries pressing down on me.
Crying on command is a skill I picked up from one of my theater classes at school, and I’m practically buzzing at the chance to finally put it to use on a show.
Some actresses use fake tears—and sometimes, when it’s been multiple takes, fake tears are unavoidable—but I’m determined to genuinely cry for at least the first few tries.
My teacher explained that the trick was to imagine all the things in your life that make you sad and play them one after another in a rapid montage in your head.
And that’s exactly what I do. I think about everything from the long hours that my parents work just so we can keep living here to how lonely and out of place I felt when I first moved to Korea and could barely keep up in my classes.
The laughing faces of kids who picked on my “weird” accent—back when I still had one—swim around in my thoughts.
And so does the empty dining room table where my parents and I used to have dinner every day together back in the States.
My life in Korea has been far from easy, but what really punches me in the gut is the possibility that all this could have been for nothing .
That, even after several years of trying our best to make it here, my parents and I might have to pack our bags and go back to the States like nothing happened.
Tears trickle down and onto my cheeks.
Bingo.
Bryan looks genuinely taken aback at the fact that I’m actually crying. The rest of the set is entirely silent. Everyone’s watching us.
“Sora-ya...” Bryan whispers.
“I do remember, okay?” I reply, my voice breaking. “Is that what you want me to say to you? I remember everything. But I didn’t tell you because—because...”
In my peripheral vision, I catch sight of Minjee staring at us. Her mouth is slightly open, like she’s surprised.
I pull away from Bryan and start walking away.
“Kang Sora!” Bryan cries out, stopping me in my tracks.
Chills run down my spine. The hair rises from the back of my neck.
Nothing feels better than this, than being so completely in the moment with other actors who are putting their all into a scene as much as you are.
My skin continues to tingle as he goes on.
“Wait. Please, wait. There must be a reason why we remember everything. Why only us ? Why are we the only ones who remember our past lives? And why did we end up meeting each other again? Out of the billions of people alive on this planet right now?”
I turn on my heel and clench my fists. Bryan’s eyes are shining, like he’s about to cry, too. He’s really good.
“Only pain and suffering will come out of dwelling on the past. They killed us to keep us apart before. And they’ll do that again without so much as a blink.”
The shock on Bryan’s face is so genuine that it’s like I reached out and slapped him.
I shake my head. “I’ve said too much. Please, if you really care about me, pretend you don’t know me.”
When I turn around this time, I make sure my arm is within reach of Bryan so he can grab it. Without missing a beat, he pulls me close to him in a tight but gentle hug. K-drama cliché number two: the backward pull-hug cliffhanger ending.
I turn around, and for four long heartbeats, we stare into each other’s eyes before Director Cha yells, “Cut! That was excellent! Let’s get in some tighter shots for this scene and then we’ll be all set for today.”
“Boom,” Bryan whispers as we reset to our original positions. He winks at me. “We’ve still got it.”
I smile, more than a little half-heartedly. I’m glad at least one thing stayed the same.
I’m waiting for the bus when someone taps me on the shoulder. Thinking it’s a fan, I plaster on a smile and turn around, only to see it’s Minjee.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
I try my best not to fidget or otherwise appear surprised. Meanwhile, Minjee’s shoulders are relaxed, but there’s unmistakable tension in her face.
“I just want to apologize,” she says after a long moment of silence.
“I should have told you about me landing this role. It all happened really fast, and this is a show I very much wanted to be involved in. I should have told you, but honestly, I didn’t know how.
I know how much this show means to you, too. Are you mad at me?”
The moment she asks me the question, I realize I’m not.
Not anymore. Her apology seems genuine, and at the end of the day, none of this is her fault.
Mr. Kim and the other higher-ups are the ones that devised this whole mess in the first place.
They’re the ones who decided that Bryan and I should fake-date while also hiring Minjee behind our backs.
How can I be angry at her for just following her passion like I am?
“Nah,” I say. “I was just caught off guard. I wish you’d told me. Even a quick text would have been nice.”
“Yeah... I know. It was so nice to be talking to you regularly again. I guess I was afraid to ruin things.”
Hearing that Minjee likes chatting with me, too, makes my heart squeeze. But no matter how glad I am we’re friends again, I can’t ignore our current situation.
“Honestly, I just find it funny and sad that we ended up together again like this,” I say. “Acting on opposite sides of a show so people all over the world can watch us fight over the same guy. It’s like Les Misérables 2.0. Lim-seonsaeng-nim would be so proud.”
Minjee grins back at me. Mr. Lim was the highly strict drama teacher we had last year who was notorious for making kids cry for “the good of acting.” He was into critically acclaimed musicals and highbrow cinema, so he’d probably cringe in pain if he saw that his two top students were acting in a messy, melodramatic love triangle on TV.
“Hey, if that’s what the people want,” Minjee replies. “Lim-seonsaeng’s tastes were really boring anyway.”
“True. But is this love triangle really what everyone wants?”
Minjee sighs. “Hopefully. I guess we’ll find out when the ratings come out for this episode. This one premieres next Saturday, right?”
I nod at her, my mind whirring to process the fact that Minjee just questioned the writers’ decision to bring her onto the show in the first place.
I hate love triangles, but if I were in her shoes, I would have seized this opportunity without hesitation.
Then again, since her family is practically K-drama royalty, she’s not as desperate for roles as I am.
That’s the big difference between the two of us.
“Well, regardless of whether this whole love triangle thing works or not, I hope you know that I’m obviously going to do my best on the show,” Minjee says.
“I swear, Bryan and I are just friends. So I promise I won’t try to steal him in real life or anything.
But in Fated Destiny , I’m going to try my best to be the girl that everyone deems to be the better endgame for Hyun.
It’s nothing personal. Just business. And I expect you to try your best, too.
Give me a run for my money, like you did at school. ”
Even though I know we’re being silly and that our performances probably won’t even influence what happens in the actual script, the idea of competing against her in our own secret game is thrilling.
Suddenly, all the changes don’t seem so scary and big anymore.
It feels like we’re back in school, just engaging in some friendly competition.
I extend my hand to her.
“May the best actress win,” I reply in English, saying out loud what I thought to myself yesterday.
She laughs and exclaims, also in English, “Wow, so American!”
Minjee takes my hand. Despite the cold, her hand feels warm and fits perfectly in mine. Her touch feels a lot nicer than I thought it would, and I squeeze Minjee’s hand to hopefully distract her from the fact that I’m blushing.
“How are you so warm?” I exclaim, purposefully being over-the-top. “I feel like I’m constantly dying in this weather.”
She laughs. “I guess my body is more used to it since I was born and raised here.” She looks down the street. “So, is your bus almost here?”
I was so caught up with our conversation that I totally forgot about my ride home.
“Oh crap!” I exclaim, looking around. Luckily, everyone else is still standing at the stop.
“I think you’re good,” Minjee says, giving me a thumbs-up.
“Wait,” I say, since I can’t hide my curiosity anymore. I try to sound as casual as I can when I continue. “So why did you come here to the bus stop? Can’t you just ride your car back home?”
Minjee cocks her head to the side.
“I thought it was obvious,” she says. “I wanted to catch up with you. We’re always so busy on set that it’s hard to have a meaningful conversation.”
The genuineness in her voice makes me happy. Taking the time to say hello to old friends is Korean etiquette 101, but if she’d truly resented me for landing Sora’s part like I once suspected she did, she probably wouldn’t have bothered.
“But yeah, I should get going. Have any fun plans for Christmas?” Minjee asks.
“I always spend it with my parents, so we’re probably just going to have a quiet night in.”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re really close with your folks.”
The small, sad grin on her face reminds me of how much she hated going back home after school.
“The drawback of having famous workaholic parents,” she’d always say, “is that they don’t have as much time for anything other than their careers. I’m lucky if my folks even acknowledge that I exist!”
“Hey,” I say, “you’re more than welcome to come over to my place for the holidays. I’m sure my parents won’t mind.”
Minjee’s eyes go wide, growing a bit shiny before she looks away.
“Nah, I’m fine. I really appreciate the offer, though. Hope you have a good Christmas, Hana. Stay warm, okay?”
“Thanks. You too.”
I give her a quick hug, and she squeezes me tight before she lets go.
Even though we may still be enemies on-screen, I’m relieved that, in real life, I still have Minjee as a friend.