Chapter 11
“Like I said, they’re offering more of a consulting role. Not even full-time hours.”
“That’s still too much,” her brother said. “You can’t be backstage at the clown convention and running the shop and starting a new business from scratch all at the same time. Something’s gotta give, Yeonnie.”
Jiyeon reached the landing. She walked the last few yards to her apartment and let herself back in, plunking the bags down on the counter with a thud.
“I could help you. I should help you. It’s my fault they want you for the main cast, isn’t it?
You were covering for me. And if I’m on set, I can manage the diner a couple days a week. That gives you time for Wanna Waffle.”
“Sure, sure. These yahoos would take care of themselves while I was gone. They’d get along great and nothing would be on fire.”
“Emerald staff can be with Apollo on your days off,” Jiyeon replied, sorting out the various components of her meal. “Eunjae said they’re sending people over.”
“Yeah, okay. And does he know about your devil’s bargain with Prism?”
“Devil’s bargain? Really?”
“You know that’s what it is!”
Whatever he wanted to call it, the offer relayed by her agent sounded a lot like the tidiest solution to a number of Jiyeon’s problems. They’d proposed a behind-the-scenes role for Emma Han, wanting her help in recreating the atmosphere of Wanna Waffle in an authentic way.
She’d be in the background, not part of the main cast. The job did involve some content creation, but her on-camera appearances would be limited to a few interviews.
Most importantly, she could take some of Denny’s workload. She had the training and professional experience to sub for him as diner management. Her brother would have more days off, more time at the shop. Jiyeon saw no reason why both of their dreams should be sidelined.
It worked for her. She saw this as a worthwhile risk, but Eunjae wouldn’t see it that way. He’d likely reject this plan outright.
“Denny, you can’t say anything. Let me talk to him first.”
“Why would I mention it? They’re working tonight. The last thing I need is Ryan having a mental breakdown on stage. This guy’s wearing at least fifty pounds of sequins as it is. He’d go down and stay down.”
“So you think I should wait to tell him?”
“I think you shouldn’t do this, period,” Denny exclaimed.
“You were paying attention, right? You know the premise? They want Apollo running a diner. That’s gotta be the second funniest joke anybody’s ever told.
The second worst idea anybody’s ever had.
The most questionable concept imaginable.
A disaster on eight pairs of legs, with eight pairs of empty eyes—”
“Let me guess. It’s the second funniest and the second worst ‘cause my idea took first place.”
“Bingo.” But in a much more subdued tone, he added, “Look, noona. You definitely shouldn’t do it just to help me out. You’ve picked up enough of my slack.”
“Helping you out is one of the few reasons why I’d ever agree to do something like this.”
The line went quiet. Jiyeon checked the time, saw that it was 7:00, and told Denny she had to go. It was Friday for her, Saturday for Eunjae. Date night.
She switched out her phone for the laptop waiting on her desk. The call connected, showing the back of Eunjae's head. Nicky could be heard cackling from just beyond the frame. It had to be Nicky. No one else in the group laughed like that.
“Hyung, she asked you to help? This isn't a trick?”
“I've never tricked anybody in my life. That's just paranoia, my son. Wow, the forbidden romance is really getting to you.” Nicky waved at Jiyeon on his way out.
“One Bangkok breakfast delivered to this dope over here, just like you asked.
That'll be three easy payments of $3,999, okay? Wire transfer, hard cash, gold bars—”
Eunjae got up and shut the door. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting Nicky to take over room service.”
“I thought he'd come up with something better than room service.” Bangkok was a foodie’s paradise, and Nicky was Apollo’s most adventurous eater. She figured he'd know exactly what to bring back for Eunjae. “He promised to behave. I paid him in gossip.”
“From mahjong night?”
“It’s our most dramatic night. Thursday though, not Sunday.”
Jiyeon pried up the lid on the largest of her takeout containers and savored the ensuing cloud of fragrant steam.
Pad Thai from the place two blocks down from Wanna Waffle; he must've asked Denny for a recommendation.
Mindful of what her brother had said, she decided not to open with the offer from Prism.
“Found another one,” Jiyeon said, holding up the seventh picture he’d hidden in her apartment.
A Polaroid had been taped inside her limited edition Apollo calendar.
She’d flipped the page from September to October, since the month was winding down, and there it was: a photo of Wanna Waffle’s orange door.
Her left shoulder was in the frame, and a length of wind-blown hair.
He smiled. “That was a good day.”
“October might be my favorite calendar page, by the way.”
“Oh, no. What am I doing in that one?”
“You’re in a wheat field, wearing the best trench coat I’ve ever seen. You’ve got flowers, too. A huge bouquet.”
“So that’s why it’s your new favorite,” Eunjae replied, laughing. “The flowers. I just happened to be there.”
“No way. It’s my favorite ‘cause of the puppy.”
“There was a puppy?” He paused, sifting through his memories for this particular absurd photo shoot, and then he said, “There was a puppy.”
“Uh-huh. So you’re carrying this big, rustic bouquet and also a Dalmatian. You look like your name might be… Stephen.”
“Stephen.”
“Yeah. And you’re on your way to apologize to some farmer’s daughter, or ask for her hand in marriage. Or both.”
Another pause. “First the apology, then the proposal?”
“Hmm. First the puppy, then the flowers. You’d have to play the rest by ear.”
“Ah. Maybe I’m apologizing for the proposal.”
She snorted. “Sorry to bother you, but please marry me.”
“I apologize for inconveniencing you with my feelings,” Eunjae rattled off in Korean. “I know that I’m still lacking. Even so, I sincerely wish to spend the rest of my life with you. Please look with kindness on my hopes for the future.”
Laughing, Jiyeon almost spilled her drink. “What do we call this? A propology?”
“Hey, that’s pretty good.”
“Your random superpower.”
“Don’t forget the weird dates,” he said, taking the tiniest, most cautious sip from his cup of coffee. “My other specialty.”
“Well, I can’t complain.”
She watched him reach into a paper bag with the air of someone dipping their hand into a basket of writhing snakes.
He withdrew that hand almost immediately as tumultuous bickering erupted outside his hotel room door.
Jiyeon shook her head. More brothers, of course. Between them, they somehow had so many.
In typical Apollo fashion, the others let themselves in without knocking. “Ari, guess what? You left your key card in our room! It was in Nicky’s bag. Haha!”
On the screen, Eunjae mouthed a silent apology. She stifled a sigh and carried on with dinner. Something she’d learned during these months he’d been in Seoul: privacy came at a premium, and that was true whether Eunjae was in the same room or an entirely different country. This might never change.
“Hyung, did you see this shit in the Prism email?” Max caught sight of Jiyeon over his brother’s shoulder. “Oh, Emma-noona. Hey.”
She raised a curtain of noodles, miming a toast. “Florida Man. Hey.”
He gawked at her. Jesse jostled him aside. “I think my rating should be higher,” he fretted, plopping into Eunjae's lap. “Doesn’t this make me seem boring? Noona, tell me I’m not boring. Like, I’m at least more interesting than Keiichi.”
“It was a risk assessment. You want a low rating, not a high one. Idiot!”
“Oh my gosh, he’s still soooo mad that his number was higher than Nicky’s.”
Eunjae leaned sideways to avoid getting elbowed in the eye. “Everyone’s number was higher than Nicky’s."
“That’s how you know this is all bullshit."
Kei rolled his eyes at Max. “Whatever you say, Mr. 92%.”
“Aww, but is it true that we won’t see you until December?
” Namgyu and his mop of lavender hair suddenly monopolized the screen, brows drawn, mouth turned down at the corners.
“It’s just too awful. Ari should fight them about it.
I never fight with anybody, but I’d help him.
And we’d win! I just know we would. I’m good at winning. ”
Jiyeon processed these words. She met Eunjae’s panicked gaze. “Until December…? Why would it be that long?”
“Hyung, you didn’t tell her yet?”
“Of course he didn’t. That’s just how he is. Remember when Ari didn’t tell us about that clause in our contract?”
“Shut the hell up, Keiichi.”
“Oh my gosh. Ohhh myyyy goooosshhhh, noona looks so mad now, she’s about to break up with us—”
“Hmm. Yeah, I guess I should've realized I'd be dating all of you.”
Jesse's wail shifted to a higher key, evolving from ‘police siren’ to ‘mournful banshee.’ Meanwhile, Eunjae grabbed the laptop and ran. He reappeared a moment later. Clamoring voices continued to leak through the hotel room walls.
Jiyeon set her chopsticks down. “Are you sitting in the bathtub?”
“Ah… yeah.” Eunjae yanked the shower curtain shut, as if it might provide an additional line of defense.
He sagged against the cold porcelain in despair.
The directive from both agencies came out in a torrent: they wanted zero contact between Emma Han and any member of Apollo until filming was done and the group signed with Zenith.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, hanging his head. “I thought we could talk about it when I got home. And I know this doesn’t make it any better, but keeping it from you… that’s not what I was trying to do. I just… I’m sorry. I messed up.”
She leaned back in her own chair, the meal forgotten, date night disintegrating perhaps beyond salvage. So the agencies wanted her gone, but Prism didn’t want her as a free agent. Too dangerous. They’d engineered a compromise.
Her temper flared. Not at Eunjae, because Jiyeon couldn’t be angry with him for keeping a secret when she had a few of her own.
She understood why he’d been putting it off instead of coming clean.
Jiyeon didn’t blame him, but the situation triggered her sense of injustice.
Why was it so hard? Would it ever just be normal?
Minutes ticked by as they sat together, an ocean and a full day apart. Darkness seeped across the apartment windows like ink diffused in water. The night seemed to expand, its borders encroaching on every pane of glass.
But on the screen, mid-morning sunshine slanted into Eunjae’s hotel room.
Suddenly the distance felt tangible — no longer a series of numbers or a difference in hours, but a physical and impassable barrier.
A divide between one world and another. The unwelcome realization struck fast and lodged deep, fleet as an arrow, accurate to a cruel degree.
Eyes burning, Jiyeon rested her cheek on the tabletop. Eunjae reached for her on reflex. But she was too far away to hold, and this would be the case for another twenty-four hours. It had been like this for months.
In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to talk about Prism’s offer.
Jiyeon kept imagining Eunjae on stage at that awards show, forcing a smile, determined not to ruin the performance.
Her fingers went to the elastic looped around her wrist, seeking comfort in the mindless habit of twisting it inside out, then back again.
“You’re mad,” said Eunjae.
“I’m not. I’m fine. I miss you, though.”
He sighed. “You don’t even know how much I miss you. I’m not great with words or I’d tell you all about it. But I’ll be there tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “With flowers and a puppy, right?”
“You have to ask?”
Jiyeon lifted her head. “Kidding! Please don’t bring a puppy. I never paid a pet deposit.”
“How much is it? Maybe I need to see the lease.”
“Oh, goodness.” She sat up to find him smiling at her. It was a fragile smile, but he was trying. She could try, too. Jiyeon ran her thumb over a section of elastic that was beginning to fray. “See you tomorrow, Ryan Kim.”
“Tomorrow,” Eunjae replied, “with flowers. And a puppy.”