Radiant Smile
I kept a list of names Cha Jun-jae had surely forgotten. Among them was one that still made my chest tighten whenever it surfaced: Im Ji-yeong. She had been a flawless friend in every single way. Her personality, her tastes, her appearance—nothing was lacking. The way she insisted on using only one brand of eraser, the stylish habit of carrying an expensive camera around as a hobby to capture photos, all of it had felt effortlessly cool.
When I told her I dreamed of becoming an actor, Ji-yeong took pictures of me every chance she got. By our second year of high school, right when we began serious preparation for the theater and film department entrance exams, she was the only friend who never laughed at my dream.
The fact that I ended up collecting expensive cameras, that I’ve made my living from the skills I learned while shooting with them—all of it was part of why I could never forget her.
“Eun-dam!”
My parents, dressed head to toe like tourists, had glued themselves to the café fan. They kept exclaiming that this was the only cool spot in the place. The humid heat of the rainy season only made it worse; the adults were melting.
“Why is it so hot here?”
“It’s a warm country. What did you expect?”
From the very beginning it was nothing but complaints. Watching the adults drained by the weather, I cheered inside. Mom, at least, was happy about the outfit she had chosen herself.
“But honey, I really can’t wear this cardigan. Aigoo, I thought it would be chilly because of the rain.”
The regretful way she looked at the cardigan dangling from her wrist made me feel sorry. The weather wasn’t my fault, and there was no rule saying she had to wear it. Still, my parents’ disappointed eyes always felt like an accusation aimed at me.
“Jun-jae’s an actor, an actor. Look at him wearing a suit even on a resort island.”
“I didn’t bring anything else. I was planning to buy some comfortable clothes with Eun-dam anyway.”
I decided to cancel the guilt I felt toward Mom. Seeing Cha Jun-jae flapping his shirt because of the heat, she was laughing far too openly. I deliberately avoided looking in his direction and spoke.
“Shall we get moving? You should eat lunch first.”
It must have been welcome news after the long wait; the adults’ heat-wrinkled faces bloomed at once. The speed with which they gathered their things and stood up betrayed how much they were looking forward to a proper meal.
“What are we eating?”
Dad, whose internal meal clock was always precise, was already sliding toward the edge of irritation. If I left him any longer he would start fighting with Mom, nagging me, and eventually lose his temper so badly he’d try to flee the island. I borrowed the acting skills I had once used for my theater and film department application.
“Just trust me~”
I deliberately lifted the end of the sentence and smiled with my eyes in that cute way. Laughter spread across the adults’ mouths; as long as they could fill their stomachs and cool down, they were happy. My conscience prickled, but I held it in well enough. As I pulled my phone from my pocket, I met Cha Jun-jae’s dark eyes. His usual blank expression startled me and I quickly looked away.
After a moment I glanced back. He still wore the exact same face. This time I didn’t avoid his deeply sunken gaze. The resentment I held toward him wouldn’t dissolve anytime soon. I smiled wide enough to show my front teeth, intending it as a little jab. His eyebrows rose. The look on his face said he hadn’t expected such a bratty reaction.
“Jun-jae.”
The sight of his exaggeratedly surprised expression—how could she be calling me?—only confirmed it. Tonight I would finally put an end to this long, drawn-out connection with Cha Jun-jae.
“Today let’s pick out some clothes and have dinner together too.”
His eyes widened as if my words were completely unexpected. The reaction that followed made my own eyes widen. Even the adults, who had been only half-listening to us, turned to stare at the dramatic change on his face.
“Oh my, Jun-jae. You’re that happy about buying new clothes?”
He curved his eyes into perfect crescents, lifted the corners of his mouth as high as they would go, and offered a smile that had shaken off every trace of darkness. It was a smile prepared solely for me. The way he almost rose onto his toes spoke of pure joy. It slipped quietly into my heart. Flustered, I wound the bag strap tightly around my wrist.
“Good. I like it. I like it so much.”
There was no need to affirm it so intensely. He had declared an all-out bloody war with his unauthorized invasions. He had always been like this, I thought. He had played a huge part in trampling my life, invading it, changing it without mercy. Every time, I had survived by dodging, laughing servilely, and matching the mood.
I had only tried to resist his shameless attempt to ruin even my first real vacation. Yet his smile—bright enough to make the sunlight concede—somehow painted me as the villain. As if he possessed a kind heart and I carried a maggot’s heart.
Before that radiant smile that seemed incapable of harming anyone, my voice shrank.
“Yeah.”
No matter how beautifully he smiled, the ending would not change. I would protect my territory even if it killed me. I absolutely would.
Dad claimed he loved sundae gukbap from the market stalls and insisted he had no worries about the hygiene on Dalos Island. Every time I warned him that the heat here made the bugs both enormous and numerous, he would answer that such things were simply part of the romance.
“Eww, flies.”
“Isn’t that a mosquito?”
The fried rolls arrived twenty minutes after we ordered, and disappointment dominated the adults’ eyes. They had no idea this counted as fairly upscale food on Dalos Island. Locals only visited this restaurant on payday. To the adults it looked like a place on the verge of closing down. Mom, who had ordered everything because the prices were cheap, sighed when she saw the condition and portion sizes of the dishes.
“Isn’t there anywhere a little nicer than this, Eun-dam?”
“Mom. You don’t understand local spots. This is exactly what a real local place looks like. An authentic hidden gem. Come on, everyone, eat up.”
Since their daughter had brought them and their friend’s daughter had brought them, the adults couldn’t complain too loudly. Their chopsticks moved hesitantly toward the food. At least the fried rolls were something familiar from Korea. The expressions on their faces after the first bite were far from bright.
“It’s a little sour.”
“It smells like meat.”
After a short silence the evaluations poured out, and soon the chopsticks were abandoned. Even Dad, whose stomach had been rumbling like a thunderstorm, set his chopsticks down with clear irritation. He had sworn he would eat without a word, yet here we were. Exactly as I had predicted.
“There were lots of restaurants along the beach over there.”
“Dad hates pizza. Pasta, pizza, steak.”
“Aww… it all feels so greasy. Isn’t there anywhere that serves Korean food?”
If I had written a script, it could hardly have come out more predictably. I rested my chin on my hand and delivered the cruel truth to Dad.
“Nope. There isn’t. Nothing like that.”
Spicy, hot, red-pepper-laced dishes—the kind Koreans crave the day after drinking. The restaurant’s habit of serving one dish and making you wait fifteen minutes had Dad’s stomach in knots. The adults’ faces flushed when they realized how sticky the tabletop was under their hands.
“Don’t they even wipe the tables? Look how sticky it is.”
“No wonder the bugs are everywhere. Aigoo, tsk.”
Watching the dusty fan spin weakly, Mom set her chopsticks down for good. The hot soup she wanted would take another ten minutes at least. Please don’t misunderstand—I really had brought them to a genuine local restaurant. It was just that, by Mom and Dad’s standards, it might as well have been a street cart.
I smiled a small, triumphant smile and drank my sour watermelon juice. The moment I had emptied half of the completely unrefreshing drink, one of the remaining chopsticks reached out and neatly picked up a fried roll. My gaze naturally followed it.
“Jun-jae. You don’t have to eat any more.”
Jun-jae, who had been quietly focused on the meal, smiled and ate another one. Even though it was covered in quite a tart sauce, he didn’t frown once. Our eyes kept meeting in the air. The unusually bright Cha Jun-jae grinned at me.
“It’s delicious.”
The adults pushed the rest of the plate toward him as if disposing of leftovers. Knowing how sensitive he was about hygiene, it was shock after shock. Why was he trying so hard to adapt? He would have to return to Korea for work soon anyway.
“It’s good, Eun-dam.”
There it was again. He was smiling again. The bland, half-hearted smile he usually wore must have been left in his suitcase. Ever since I suggested we buy clothes together and eat dinner together, he had been like this. In the past I would have smiled back, but I had decided to turn cold toward the man who had become an obstacle. I hid my own smile behind a prickly tone.
“Eat a lot, then.”
Let’s see how long you can keep smiling.