Hawaii
"Oh my goodness, it's Son Jin-uk!"
"And that must be the one next to him. The high school actor everyone's talking about these days."
The flight attendants' hushed chatter drifted up from the front of the cabin. Yeon-woo posed for a few excited selfies with them before takeoff, then settled into his business-class seat, amused by the stir a couple of currently hot actors could cause.
In his previous life he had flown civilian airliners, military transports, even light aircraft he had to pilot himself — but being fussed over by cabin crew was a first.
So-hyun pulled out an eye mask the moment she boarded and, for all her earlier fretting, was snoring softly within minutes. She stirred only when the meal service came around, then promptly fell back asleep. Across the aisle, An Jun-ho was already on his third — or was it fourth? — drink.
"Jun-ho hyung, you're going to be wasted before we even land."
"Ahh, that hits the spot. Why do I love drinking so much? I held back the whole shoot, so now I get to cut loose."
Time slipped by, and before long the aircraft extended its landing gear and touched down on the runway at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport. Only then did Han So-hyun stretch and sit up, and Yeon-woo couldn't help laughing.
"You're really afraid of flying?"
"Heh. When you're scared, you sleep. That's the rule."
The jetway connected, and the whole group — exhausted from the long flight and eager to get off — filed out in a line. They headed through the connected gate and joined the queue for immigration.
"They're not going to ask anything complicated, right?"
Min-su, who had never entered a U.S. territory before, had looked up the infamous American immigration process and was fretting over it.
"Min-su hyung, we're a group, so they probably won't ask much. Korean passports carry a lot of weight."
Min-su nodded. The staff ahead of them cleared one by one, and just as Yeon-woo had said, no one got any hard questions.
"Whoa, Yeon-woo, your English is really good."
An Jun-ho, standing behind him, watched Yeon-woo trade smiles and a fairly long exchange with the immigration officer and was impressed. Jin-uk finished his own screening, appeared from behind, answered for Yeon-woo, and slung an arm around Jun-ho's shoulders.
"Not surprising. He's first in his whole school."
They collected their luggage and stepped out into arrivals. The crowd wasn't huge, but a handful of Korean expats were waiting with placards. Most of them were fans of Jin-uk, whose overseas profile had ticked up a little thanks to Your Name.
Jin-uk walked over to the people waving his name, took photos, signed autographs, and did the full fan-service routine.
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
Watching him, An Jun-ho nudged Yeon-woo's shoulder.
"A few more years of this and maybe we'll get to shoot something that blows up overseas too, right? It's wild seeing people recognize Jin-uk hyung even out here."
"Well, Korean content is huge right now. Who knows — maybe the next project hits big right away."
Jun-ho grinned at that. Maybe so.
Following their guide, the cast and crew transferred to the hotel and shook off the travel fatigue.
The next morning, after breakfast, Yeon-woo was resting in his room when someone knocked. He opened the door to find Jin-uk and Jun-ho already dressed and ready to go.
"Yeon-woo, the staff and I are heading out to that live-fire range I mentioned before. Want to come?"
Shooting, huh. He had fired enough rounds in his last life to last several lifetimes and felt no particular urge to take it up as a hobby — but he had nothing else planned, so he nodded.
"Sure, sounds good. What about So-hyun noona?"
"She said loud noises freak her out. She's hanging at the hotel pool with Writer Choi."
For a second Yeon-woo pictured himself stretched out on a sun lounger by the pool, taking it easy. But he had already agreed, so he moved.
"Give me a minute. I'll just throw some clothes on."
He changed into something easy to move in, slathered sunscreen over every inch of exposed skin, and came back out.
"Hyungs, did you put on enough sunscreen? Hawaiian sun is no joke."
"Uh, I put some on roughly."
Yeon-woo handed Jun-ho the bottle and made him cover every missed spot.
"If you half-ass this, you're done for. Your skin's going to end up looking like the Polish flag. You missed here too. And over here."
"Aigoo, Yeon-woo nagging sounds exactly like my dad."
"Skin cancer. You'll get skin cancer."
Jin-uk watched Jun-ho shake his head in surrender and cackled. "You've met your match."
They met the waiting staff in the lobby, piled into cars, and drove to an outdoor shooting range not far from Waikiki.
"Whoa, so this is the range. You can already hear the gunfire."
"Man, it's been so long since I finished reserve duty I can't even remember the last time I shot."
"Alright, follow me this way. We'll do the safety briefing first, then head in."
After a quick safety rundown, the guide told them to pick whatever they wanted to shoot. Everyone stared at the display cases, deliberating.
"I'll take a Glock 19."
Yeon-woo ordered without much thought — a familiar sidearm he had used countless times in the field.
"Good. Solid choice."
The attendant nodded. It was a plain-looking pistol, but light, tough, and durable enough that multiple countries had adopted it. Even Korea's Presidential Security Service used the model.
"Not gonna try a rifle? We've got some real sweet-shooting pieces."
"Hmm."
Yeon-woo rubbed his chin, considering.
"I can make a recommendation if you want."
The solidly built middle-aged attendant assigned to him said this while laying out safety glasses, shooting headphones, and a plate carrier.
"Do you happen to have a Beretta SC70/90?"
"Oho. Didn't see that coming. A Korean guy ordering an Italian piece."
The attendant packed the Beretta, the Glock, and ammunition into a hard gun case, then helped Yeon-woo into the plate carrier.
"Huh. Feels strangely nostalgic."
Wearing tactical protective gear again after so long sent a tangle of thoughts through him.
"What, Yeon-woo already picked?"
"And something with a ridiculous name, no less."
Director Kang In-chan answered Jin-uk's question for him.
"Haha, I've got a bit of an interest in this stuff…"
It wasn't "a bit of an interest" — he had lived with a gun in his hands in his previous life — but he scratched his head and offered the excuse to the staff who were looking at him like he was a strange kid.
The other staff, most of them reservists who only knew the M16 and the K2, ended up taking whatever the attendants recommended. After another round of safety instruction, they geared up and entered the range.
"Yeong-chan, you're fresh out of the service. You go first. Show them what Korean reservists are made of."
Cinematographer Kang In-chan clapped the youngest member of the camera team on the back.
"Yes, Director. Leave it to me!"
With an attendant's help, Kim Yeong-chan pulled rounds from an ammo box, loaded up, and started with the pistol.
Bang—!
"Whoa."
The recoil from that short barrel caught him off guard on the first shot. The staff cracked up at his dazed expression. He steadied himself and fired at the distant target, emptying fifteen rounds before coming back.
The target zipped in on the automated retrieval system. Thirteen hits — most of them well off center.
"That's actually pretty good. Most civilians have a hard time even hitting the target with a handgun."
The range attendant offered some consolation. The next few staff members swaggered up and shot about the same. An Jun-ho managed only three holes in his target out of fifteen rounds. He insisted he must have punched through the same spots twice. Nobody bought it.
In the next lane over, a brown-haired middle-aged white man watched Yeon-woo's group and clicked his tongue.
"Unbelievable. Not even close to center and they're oohing and aahing at each other. Asians ought to stick to bows like the primitives they are."
"Hey, Jimmy. That's pretty racist, don't you think? Heh. Bows, though — that's funny."
"Who cares. They can't understand us anyway."
Yeon-woo heard every word from the neighboring lane and stared at them steadily through the ballistic glass. Right then, An Jun-ho — fresh off his spectacular failure — called him over.
"Heh heh. You're not the only one who hasn't done military service, Yeon-woo. Your turn."
Yeon-woo took the pistol from the gun case and loaded it with practiced ease.
Click— clack!
The way he racked the slide was anything but amateur. Then he settled into a perfect isosceles stance, both arms forming an equilateral triangle, and opened fire.
Bang—!
Bang—! Bang—!
He zeroed with the first round, then ripped through the rest in rapid fire.
"Woooah."
The flawless form and blistering cadence left even the range attendant clapping. The whole group was stunned.
"What is that kid? Is he really a high schooler?"
Fifteen rounds gone in no time, Yeon-woo walked back to the others. The target arrived moments later.
"Wow. Folks, that's impressive."
The attendant held out a target with a tight, pretty cluster punched dead center in a perfect cross pattern.
"That's got to be the high score of the day."
"Yes! Yeon-woo's saving our pride. How are you good at guns too?"
"Hahaha."
Yeon-woo had nothing to say for himself, so he just scratched his head.
The rifle portion went the same way. Every Korean reservist on the trip had been through military marksmanship training, so as a group they outshot the average foreign tourist — but Yeon-woo was in a class of his own.
"Unbelievable. A perfect score."
"This is really your first time? That's incredible."
It wasn't just the group. The attendants were floored by shooting that bordered on perfect.
"Sir, where did you learn to shoot?"
Yeon-woo glanced past the attendant at the brown-haired middle-aged man standing open-mouthed in the next lane, then answered.
"Nowhere. First time. Maybe it's because Koreans are a people who are good with bows."
He gave a faint smile and started packing up the gun case.
The staff who'd done their service declared he could snag a reward leave the moment he enlisted and gave him enthusiastic thumbs-up. Yeon-woo and Jun-ho, neither of whom had served, felt a vaguely bittersweet twinge at the thought of the military.
That afternoon the Summer's Closet team took a cruise together to wrap up the sightseeing schedule, then split up to rest at the hotel. Yeon-woo stepped out front for a short walk, wanting to feel the night air.
A familiar silhouette appeared in the distance. Han So-hyun's pale skin caught the light spilling from a convenience store, and Writer Choi Mi-hyeon was with her.
Getting a late-night snack?
Glad for the chance encounter, Yeon-woo started over to say hello — and then he saw several burly young men who looked like locals closing in on them.
"Surely we're not about to get a full-blown cliché here."
But the situation was far more plausible than he wanted to admit. This was a tourist area, yes, but the streets were darker and less safe than Korea, and two conspicuously beautiful women were an obvious target for unwanted attention. The men didn't seem to have truly sinister intentions, but on a dark night street the approach was more than enough to feel threatening to So-hyun and Writer Choi.
Yeon-woo crossed the road quickly and addressed the men in fluent English.
"Hey, mate. Everything all right? I'm with them."
Han So-hyun, who had looked faintly frightened, turned around.
"Yeon-woo!"