I'll Prove I'm Your Bride
In the end, Father never showed up at the funeral home. A hollow laugh escaped me at his firm resolve to cut ties. Seeing not even a single courtesy call confirmed it—we were now less than strangers.
What's the point of all this?
In that moment, the funeral felt utterly meaningless. Just like that performance back then. The one who should come never does.
I want to play the piano.
Standing there in black clothes, I looked utterly pathetic. My twitching fingers felt like wriggling maggots. I wanted to smash them dead against the piano keys as soon as possible.
"Aigoo, how tragic."
Whether sincere or empty words, the condolences from the guests started grating on me. From "You've suffered so much before going" and on. People who hadn't bothered with a single call now advertising their heartfelt pity—it was revolting.
I thought she'd finally live normally now.
I'd dreamed a sweet dream for a moment. Of building a happy blended family, tossing out the broken bowl, and filling a new one with peace.
All wasted.
I regretted the time squandered on useless fantasies. So I called in the workers. Strangers I'd never met before handled the procession. I watched Mother's cremation amid their paid-but-genuine comforts.
Are you happy there?
The question popped into my head unbidden, but no answer came. Staring at the roaring casket, I realized no one remained around me anymore.
I hadn't called my friends. No point showing them this mess. At a time when even their pitying gazes would feel like an insult.
All I could do was rush through the funeral and stand before the piano. My one sanctuary in this dark world, lit by the sole spotlight in a cramped corner.
In that instant, it hit me. Ah, this is my coffin.
"...."
As immersion ended, sorrow crashed over me. Normally, the script character and "me" should stay strictly separate. But not this time.
I'd lost family too. The process differed, but the outcome was similar, blending our emotions seamlessly.
And that's why.
I won't do it.
I resolved not to film Hydream 2. Sure, the script's sadness and my immersion played a part.
But also, She said rest, then suddenly sends a script? This could blow up later.
To keep my word to the end. Accepting a good script and breaking rest would imply all prior rejections were trash.
No matter it being a sequel to a past hit. Doing Hydream 2 now would insult every project I'd turned down.
And maybe that's why? Right after vowing not to do Hydream 2, D, its grade plummeted.
So if I'd said yes, it'd have been 35%?
Even centered on NJ, that gap seemed huge. Seeing the grade flip instantly based on my involvement let me objectively grasp my influence.
Times like this, pick projects even more carefully.
Of course, pride in working with good people mattered. But box office success was core.
"What do you think? I figured since you said rest, take the whole year off. But minds change."
Seokho hyung's words solidified it. Rest when resting. No need for sentimental missteps.
"Yeah, I'll rest this year."
"Got it. I'll handle the excuses. And how about that overseas trip while you're at it?"
"Overseas trip?"
"Yeah, from Golden Bell. Might as well use it now."
"Ah."
Right, that too. Places rich in culture and history—Japan, China, or Europe.
Europe sounded best. Upgrade to business class, no issue for long flights. I'd learned English via Sims - The Real Life anyway—perfect chance to use it.
Mom's pregnant, so she stays home.
One can't because of this, another because of that. Process of elimination left no one.
Solo overseas trip it is.
Not bad. Leisurely travel had its own fun.
Lost in such thoughts—
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Script character's talent gap with current abilities deemed excessive.
Initiating level-matching procedure.
Downloading application 'Amadeus'.
[Sims - The Real Life] asserted itself. Seeing it, I understood why the script's fate hinged on me.
Level set way too high?
NJ's existing piano talent was no joke. The script demanded a whole other dimension.
A story doomed to fail without me. Even I can't do it now—need Sims' power.
A tale no one else could pull off. Script tailored assuming me as lead.
Good call rejecting it.
Right after concluding ads-only this year—
KakaoTalk pinged.
Perfect timing. If I can, I'd go anytime. Definitely. With time to spare, I had to prioritize this.
In 2012, as Kim Donghu rested.
Solar Eclipse hit final ratings of 43%, unleashing a flood of blockbusters. A Gentleman's Dignity, You Who Rolled In Uprooted, Hahoe Mask, and more.
Amid this feast of masterpieces, one brewing a new syndrome stood out: Reply 1997.
Its nostalgic era backdrop and solid research kept it shining among rivals.
In the frenzy of era-defining hits, which would linger longest in memory?
Solar Eclipse dominated with overwhelming support. Beyond ratings, Donghu's acting lingered in minds.
Especially the pet-loss breakdown—now iconic. Fans felt his absence more acutely.
Normally, you'd capitalize on momentum. But Donghu had no major activity.
Even on break, survival sightings faded. Fans grew desperate.
Such regrets drove Donghu's value skyward.
What? This contract fee ain't for a child actor anymore.
Choi Seokho felt it real-time. From CFs to drama fees—leagues above before.
"At this rate, Donghu'll be a landlord soon... wait, he already is."
Renting there to run the agency, right?
Realizing Donghu's wealth anew, Seokho scratched his cheek.
Donghu wants comfy rest, so this year should be quiet.
A few ads, minor compared to past schedules. Just coasting now.
Year-end awards at most.
Seokho stretched leisurely.
Debut date set.
End of trainee days—time to spread wings.
How long I'd waited.
Plus, with that nagging worry lately, debut ASAP.
No romantic vibe in the message. But can't let guard down.
I trusted Donghu. My (future) husband to be proud of.
But not the women around him.
So, time to declare via debut song. Proclaim to all.
Tell Donghu at my first stage, boldly: Your bride is me alone.
Past, present, future.
I'll prove I'm your bride.
My one love. So you become my sole companion.
I'll leave my mark deep.