Chapter 18
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 18
“I’ve joined the crew as a dog trainer. I won’t be on set every day, but I’ll see you around, Yeon-ju.”
Sitting at the dining table, Yeon-ju toyed with her mug as she replayed Dr. Ju’s words. Her mind fixated on the strange connection between them—a coincidence that defied any logical explanation.
“Since you’re my senior on set, Yeon-ju, please take care of me.”
She had always thought the world was infinitely vast. Hiding herself away should have been the easiest thing to do.
Yet the moment she took a single step back into it, she ran into Eun-seong. Now, she was even colleagues with a veterinarian she never imagined seeing again.
It felt as if the world had been lying in wait, ready to pounce the moment she emerged. There’s nowhere to hide, it seemed to whisper. No matter how small you make yourself, the second you lift your head, everyone will find you.
“Well, it’s because Han-byeol doesn’t have a dad.”
The thought surfaced, and Yeon-ju snapped back to attention. She realized she’d casually told Dr. Ju she didn’t have a husband, and her eyes widened in shock.
She’d lied to both Eun-seong and the head of makeup, telling them she had a husband. A wave of dread washed over her. What if their stories didn’t align?
You never knew how one thing might lead to another. Yeon-ju resolved to pull Dr. Ju aside before filming started, explain the situation, and ask him to keep her secret.
“What are you doing up instead of sleeping?”
“Oh, Mom.”
Seeing that Yeon-ju couldn't sleep, Mrs. Na, fresh out of the shower, stood by the table while drying her hair with a towel.
“Don’t drink so much water this late. You’ll be up all night going to the bathroom.”
“Oh, Mom. Do you think I’m still a kid?”
“Of course you are.”
Yeon-ju let out a soft chuckle, and Mrs. Na sat down across from her. The faint, familiar scent of rose toner—her mother’s signature fragrance—wafted through the air.
Mrs. Na opened her mouth to speak. Looking at her daughter's restless expression, she could sense the deep anxiety weighing on her.
“Are you going to be alright?”
“Huh? About what?”
“About Han-byeol. Are you sure about this?”
Since Yeon-ju had suddenly gone ahead and signed the contract, Mrs. Na couldn’t help but worry.
The beginning of any new venture was always anxiety-inducing. There was no way of knowing whether this would turn out to be a blessing or a curse.
“Well, we have to give it a try. Han-byeol said he really wants to do it.”
“That may be, but that industry is full of gossip. And there’s no guarantee Han-byeol will continue to do well. Isn’t that world notorious for getting people’s hopes up for nothing?”
“If it's his dream, he'll have to overcome that. It's time for Han-byeol to start learning how the world works, one step at a time.”
“Goodness, I still can’t believe this is happening. I just hope we aren’t getting his hopes up for nothing, only for him to get hurt later.”
Mrs. Na muttered, shaking out her towel. Only family could harbor such deep worries on the cusp of good news.
While everyone else celebrated, looking only at the bright side, family peered into the shadows of potential pitfalls, their anxieties growing.
“Well, at least you'll be on set with him, so I can worry a little less.”
“I won't be much help. You should put your trust in Hae-young. She'll take great care of him.”
“I don’t know what we did to deserve her, looking after another person’s child with such devotion. You make sure you treat Hae-young well.”
“I will, Mom.”
Yeon-ju looked up and let out a long sigh. She reached to take a sip of her still-warm tea, but remembering her mother's warning, she set the mug back down.
“Mom… when did our Han-byeol grow up so fast?”
“I know. It feels like just yesterday I was carrying him in my arms and on my back.”
“He won’t always grow up exactly the way I want him to, will he? Every day is going to be different now.”
Hearing the quiet longing in Yeon-ju’s voice—the wish that her child could stay nestled safely in her arms just a little longer—Mrs. Na sighed softly.
How could she not understand? She had raised Yeon-ju with those exact same feelings.
“Yeon-ju, even my own days don't go the way I want them to. How can we expect our children's days to go exactly as we wish?”
“……”
“The world never works the way we want it to. That’s why they say it’s all about your mindset. If you change your perspective, a problem as big as a mountain can shrink to a molehill, and a small worry can vanish into thin air. That’s just how life is.”
Yeon-ju met her mother's gaze. The knot of anxiety that had felt so hard and heavy in her chest seemed to melt away.
“I guess I really am still a kid. I needed to hear that from my mom.”
“You’re only realizing that now, you silly girl? Go on, get to bed. What good will staying up with your eyes wide open do, other than give you wrinkles?”
“Okay, I'm going.”
As Yeon-ju stood up, Mrs. Na called out to her, her voice deceptively casual.
“Yeon-ju.”
“Yeah?”
“If it gets too hard, just quit. Since when have we ever lived our lives by painstakingly saving up every penny? We’ll just take things as they come. Don’t let yourself suffer. You hear me?”
…My mother is a firefighter.
When I was engulfed in flames and everyone else was running away, she was the only one who turned her back on the world to run toward me.
“You're not alone in this world, so don't struggle so hard. Han-byeol isn't the only one with a mother. You have one too.”
“I know. Get some rest, Mom.”
Within the protective fence of my mother, I was safe. It was a blessing.
* * *
Arriving at the film set, Yeon-ju took a deep breath in front of the dressing room.
The nerves had gripped her ever since she’d spotted Eun-seong's van parked outside.
She stood there for a long time, reaching for the doorknob only to let her hand fall away. She balled her hand into a fist to knock, but let it drop to her side. Frozen in place, she hesitated again and again.
She couldn't speak or laugh freely whenever Eun-seong was in the same room. Though she was more hyper-aware of him than anyone else, she always pretended to be cool and indifferent.
The cameras might not have been rolling, but in front of Eun-seong, she was an actress delivering the performance of her life.
As she stood there hesitating, unable to bring herself to open the door, a voice spoke from behind her.
“I was about to die of frustration. Are you going in or not?”
“Oh, my goodness…!”
Yeon-ju spun around. Finding Eun-seong—whom she had assumed was already inside—standing right behind her, she made a startled, comical face.
Eun-seong, who had been watching her dither in front of the door for some time, let out a short sigh.
“Want me to open it for you?”
“Oh, no. I'll get it.”
She opened the door at lightning speed. Stepping into the empty dressing room, Yeon-ju set her things down and began airing out the room.
Eun-seong flopped onto the sofa while she grabbed a disposable dust mop and began sweeping the floor.
Holding his script out of habit, Eun-seong watched her. He’d heard that the life of a production assistant was more grueling than being a daughter-in-law in the eighties, but even so, his brow furrowed as he watched her perform such an extensive list of chores.
“Is cleaning part of your job description too?”
“Well, someone has to do it.”
“Exactly. And does that ‘someone’ have to be you?”
“Not necessarily, but…”
“Then put it down.”
Yeon-ju glanced at him. She had been sweeping this floor every single day, so she wondered why he was suddenly making a fuss.
“Why the sudden concern? I've been doing this the whole time.”
“I'm only saying something because it suddenly caught my eye.”
“It's fine. Don't worry about it.”
“How can I not worry when you're the one making me worry?”
Eun-seong stood up. He marched over to the constantly moving Yeon-ju and grabbed the handle of the dust mop.
Refusing to let go, Yeon-ju gripped it tightly with both hands. Determined to wrench it from her, Eun-seong covered her hands with his own and pulled.
The touch shouldn’t have felt tender or passionate, yet both of them were instantly reminded of the warmth of their past.
Their hands, touching again after ten long years, felt just as they remembered. It should have been just another person’s hand, but a jolt of electricity shot straight to their toes.
Their minds had forgotten, but their bodies seemed to remember. It was absurd how perfectly the old sensation—the electric spark and the fluttering heart that used to ignite at the slightest touch—recreated itself.
Ultimately, Yeon-ju was the first to let go. The moment she did, Eun-seong brandished the mop like a general wielding a spear.
As a startled Yeon-ju stumbled back, Eun-seong spun the mop with a dazzling, theatrical flair—a high-level skill he’d picked up while filming historical dramas. He kicked up a cloud of dust before thrusting the mop into a corner with a sharp, disciplined pose.
It was completely unnecessary, yet flawlessly executed.
As Eun-seong stood there triumphantly, looking like a victorious general, Yeon-ju's lips curled downward. He was being so ridiculously dramatic she could barely stand to look at him.
“What on earth is wrong with you?”
“Who told you to clean, anyway? Why are you hovering around doing things no one asked you to do?”
“Hovering? Excuse me, but I’ve been holding my tongue about a few things myself.”
“Then keep holding it. Don't say anything. I don't want to hear it.”
Unbelievable. Yeon-ju scoffed as she watched Eun-seong walk back to the sofa. Glaring at him as he picked up his script again, she reached for the mop once more.
“I told you to put that down.”
“Do you have any idea how much invisible dust is in here? Just because it's settled doesn't mean it's not there.”
“It's my lungs breathing it in, so I'll deal with it.”
“I'm breathing it in too.”
“……”
Eun-seong's eyebrows twitched. Go Yeon-ju’s stubborn refusal to back down, firing back a retort for his every word, was starting to grate on his nerves.
Why couldn't she just accept his help and be cooperative?
He had no idea why she was trying so hard to be difficult. If he, the occupant of this dressing room, told her not to clean, shouldn't she just jump for joy and take a break?
“It's distracting while I'm trying to read my script, so put it down. Who cleans when an actor is trying to focus?”
“……My apologies.”
Only then did the scraping sound of the mop finally stop. As expected, bringing up work was the ultimate trump card.
A smug smirk threatened to form on his face, but it was short-lived. He immediately felt irritated again at the realization that he had to resort to such a petty tactic just to get Go Yeon-ju to listen.
If she had just cooperated, he could have played the nice guy. He found it incredibly frustrating that Go Yeon-ju always managed to turn him into a prickly diva.
That stubborn Go Yeon-ju. One of these days, he was going to break that stubborn streak of hers.
One of these days.
Someday.
“No one's going to give you a medal for coming in early to clean. Focus on things that actually show visible results.”
“The kind of work I do is naturally thankless. Unlike some people’s.”
“……”
“What about today? Have you eaten yet?”
Feeling a bit self-conscious about her sharp tongue, Yeon-ju quickly changed the subject. Eun-seong felt a brief flutter of joy at her showing interest in his well-being, which immediately made him angry at himself.
How pathetic was it that his emotions could fluctuate so wildly over a simple question about whether he had eaten?
“I don't eat breakfast.”
“I saw the meal truck on my way in. They’re serving dakgaejang today.”
“I have carb-related PTSD. Go eat by yourself.”
“Okay.”
Yeon-ju rummaged through her pocket, pulled out three chocolates, and placed them on her palm.
They were the same mini chocolates she had offered him in the car before.
“Would you like these instead? They're my son's snacks, but I steal them sometimes.”
“You're really trying to make me an accomplice, aren't you? Just leave them there.”
As she set the chocolates down on the table, her delicate fingertips caught his eye, sending another sharp, warm ache through his chest.
Wondering if she had asked because she had no one to eat with, Eun-seong closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again.
He flipped through his script with unnecessary urgency and swallowed hard. His imagination began to run wild, wondering if she was actually trying to ask him out to eat.
“Well, I don't really have much of an appetite, but if you want to eat together—”
“Oh? Yeon-ju, you're here early!”
Right on cue, his manager, Dong-hwan, walked in carrying a load of bags. Eun-seong instantly clamped his mouth shut, while Yeon-ju smiled warmly.
“Yes, Dong-hwan. Good morning.”
“You haven't had breakfast yet, right? Let's go grab some food before it gets too crowded, Yeon-ju.”
Dong-hwan glanced at Eun-seong, who was seemingly absorbed in his script. Eun-seong feigned complete ignorance, keeping his eyes glued to the pages.
If he just asks me to join, I'll pretend to reluctantly tag along.
“Hyung, I'm going to go grab a bite with Yeon-ju. See you in a bit.”
“……”
Left behind with such cheerful efficiency by Dong-hwan so early in the morning, Eun-seong remained silent. Then, he abruptly snapped his script shut and stood up.
“Where are you going, Hyung?”
“To eat.”
“Huh? You're eating breakfast?”
Eun-seong looked at the utterly bewildered Dong-hwan, then shifted his gaze to Yeon-ju.
“You said it's dakgaejang. It must have chicken breast in it.”
“Ah……”
Talk about a leap of logic.
Eun-seong jerked his chin, gesturing for them to follow. He began walking briskly ahead as if he might leave them behind, but then suddenly spun around, snatched the three chocolates off the table, and stuffed them into his pocket.
As Eun-seong strode ahead as if nothing had happened, Dong-hwan muttered under his breath.
“I guess I’ll have to pick out just the chicken breast from his dakgaejang. Time to put my hawk eyes to work.”
“I'll help you.”
Yeon-ju chuckled, and Dong-hwan scratched his head with a grin.