The Muse and the Tiger Lily
The hour Lee Yeonjae was due to land at LAX, Lily Sweety was waiting, her heart fluttering with anticipation.
(What do I do? I'm so nervous.)
When Lily fidgeted helplessly, her manager stared at her in bewilderment.
(It's been ages since I've seen you shake like this. You didn't even get nervous before the Grammys — what's gotten into you? Is he really that much your type?)
(Stop teasing me. Between us it's a joke, but if I say it wrong out there, I'll actually get hauled off. He's fifteen.)
When Lily narrowed her eyes and glared, her manager snickered.
(But he is your type.)
(Less my type than… my muse.)
Lilly was a song Lily had written long before she knew the first thing about Lee Yeonjae — a piece composed in her teens, recalling the first love who had made her laugh and made her cry.
Then she'd seen Lee Yeonjae on The Jim Fury Show, and for a moment she'd gone completely still. The polished face, the surprisingly sharp wit, the sly streak lurking just beneath the surface — he resembled that boy from her memories to an uncanny degree.
That day, as if possessed, Lily recorded the second half of 'Lilly' straight through. And so she had genuinely, desperately wanted Yeonjae to appear in her music video. The school camp that pushed his schedule back hadn't soured the anticipation in the least — if anything, it had only made her heart pound harder.
I want to start filming already.
For this music video, Lily was taking on the role of director herself. It was an album where she had sweated over every detail, down to the B-sides, which meant the anxiety weighed on her as heavily as the excitement did.
Will I actually live up to what everyone's expecting?
Even after more than a decade in the industry, that anxiety never went away. It was an unavoidable emotion for a celebrity — someone who existed under everyone's judgment, always.
(Hello. I'm Lee Yeonjae.)
(….)
But the moment Lily actually laid eyes on him, she understood: this time, there was no need for anxiety at all. Along with the certainty that this album, too, was going to be a smash hit.
In person, Lily Sweety was shorter than I'd imagined. For reasons I couldn't fathom, she stared at me for a long while without so much as returning my greeting — and then, out of nowhere, this is what came out of her mouth.
(You're captivating.)
(…Thank you.)
(I don't just mean your looks. There's something about you that just — snatches your attention away, like that. It's fascinating. You're so much like him.)
Who exactly is "him"?
Lily went on murmuring to herself for quite some time. At first I waited politely, but as the minutes dragged on, my feet started to ache.
Is she planning to keep me standing here?
At Lily's request, we had skipped the hotel entirely and come straight to the studio, and after being cooped up on a plane for over thirteen hours, my whole body felt stiff.
Shouldn't someone around her be reining her in?
Muttering to herself in front of someone she'd just met didn't strike me as particularly appropriate behavior. Yet not a single person pointed out her rudeness.
Well. Nothing for it, then.
(Excuse me — would you like me to try some other poses?)
Guess I'll do it myself.
(I'm sorry?)
(I was wondering if I should just keep standing here. I wasn't sure whether you needed a model or a statue.)
I offered a gentle smile, and Lily's face flashed with a look of oh no.
(I'm so sorry. I got way too absorbed.)
I laughed off the light apology without making anything more of it, and only then did a proper one finally come back.
(That was terribly rude of me. I apologize. Please, have a seat on the sofa. Thank you for coming all the way to LA.)
Only now did Lily introduce herself.
(I'm Lily Sweety. And I apologize once more for how I acted just now. Really, I'm sorry.)
(It's quite all right.)
(When something gets its hooks into me, it takes me ages to climb out of it… I know it sounds like an excuse, but I truly had no intention of being rude.)
Apparently it hadn't been deliberate, because the apologies came pouring out without end. Seeing no sign of her stopping on her own, I had to cut in halfway through.
Only after a good while did the real Lily finally glance at me sheepishly.
(I wanted to talk before we started shooting the music video. I was hoping to hear your ideas too, Mr. Lee, if you had any.)
(I see.)
(You must be exhausted — shall we get right down to business?)
(Yes. Ah — one moment.)
I glanced over at Jinbae, who was standing beside the sofa.
"Hyung, sit next to me."
"I'm fine standing."
We flew here on the same plane — what do you mean, you're fine?
Jinbae stubbornly insisted on remaining upright, so I pressed him down firmly into the seat beside me. When I looked back up, Lily was watching me with an odd expression.
(Is something the matter?)
(No, it's just… I watched a video of you recently, Mr. Lee. One where you went hiking in the mountains. You and your manager seemed very close.)
The mountains?
At the out-of-nowhere word, the memory surfaced like a flash.
(Ah — you mean the video where my manager got lost in the mountains?)
(Yes, that one! I enjoyed it so much.)
Lily and I broke into bright laughter while Jinbae alone shuffled awkwardly beside us.
Huh. Unexpected.
That had been back when we filmed Goodbye, My Summer — years ago. I hadn't imagined anyone would still be digging up that clip.
(I haven't managed to watch everything you've done, Mr. Lee, but I did some searching. Your fans call you Bambi, don't they? Would it be all right if I called you that too?)
(Ah….)
It was a little embarrassing, but I told her to call me whatever was comfortable. "Lee Yeonjae" wasn't exactly easy for foreigners to pronounce, and honestly it beat being called "Mr. Lee" every other sentence.
(But why Bambi? Is it because you look like a deer?)
(…That's a question I'd rather not answer.)
(Haha! The way you get flustered is charming too.)
Despite my first impression of her, talking with Lily turned out to be surprisingly delightful. She was fundamentally a bright person, and above all, she radiated passion for her work.
(The song in the music video you'll be starring in is called 'Lilly.')
(It has a double meaning, then.)
(Yes. It's my name, but it also stands for the lily flower. As I mentioned in the email, this song is about my first love. He once gave me lilies.)
Whether from recalling that first love or not, Lily's voice grew even brighter.
(Lilies come in so many varieties, and each carries its own meaning. White lilies stand for pure love, red lilies for passionate love. Now — do you know what the flower language of the first lily he ever gave me was?)
(What was it?)
Lily beckoned me closer with a wave of her hand. When I leaned my head in, her gleaming eyes whispered:
I dare you to love me.
(Ahem~! Can you believe that kid, completely full of himself? Isn't he hilarious? I mean, of all things — of ALL things — he goes and picks a tiger lily and gives it to me. What do you think he meant by that, hmm?)
Lily pounded the sofa, looking like even the memory of it was almost too cute for her to bear. I hesitated, unsure how to respond, and finally forced out the words.
(That's… very romantic.)
But looking at it from one man's point of view—
I'm guessing he had no idea what the flower meant.
Most men don't care about flower language. It's a stereotype, sure, but experience has taught me there's some truth to it. I would know — I'm Exhibit A.
A flower is… just a flower.
Still, I had no wish to burst her bubbly enthusiasm, so I simply smiled along.
(Well, what could I do? He handed me a flower like that, so I fell for him exactly as the flower said I would.)
Lily then rambled on about her first love for ages, like a teacher who'd wandered off-topic in the middle of class and was now deep in her own story. If I distilled everything she poured out about that boy — practically in a trance — it went something like this:
He'd attended the same middle school as Lily and was, in the parlance of the playground, one of the popular kids. Always surrounded by friends, outgoing enough to be elected student council president. But the moment the two of them were alone together, he'd go quiet as a shy little boy, and she'd found that utterly endearing.
(So how long were the two of you together?)
At my question, Lily beamed.
(We never dated!)
(…?)
(He moved away partway through, and it all kind of fizzled out. But I remember vividly how brilliantly he shone. And how brilliantly I shone, too, for loving him.)
Lily said the song was about that radiance — the light that belongs only to someone who loves another person.
So it's not just a simple love story.
What had surprised me a little was learning that he was neither Asian nor white, but Black. I hadn't expected that. I'd assumed race played at least some part in why she'd reached out to cast me.
Lily smiled brightly.
(It's almost eerie… how similar the feeling is, between him and you. You look nothing alike, your personalities are nothing alike, but with him it was — how do I put it — he always had this way of capturing people.)
Lily said that wherever he was, the whole place seemed to glow. And that glow, she stressed, was the entire point of this music video.
(I've cast a young actress your age who looks a bit like me. She'll mostly stay hidden, watching you — that's her role. All you have to do is look brilliant and full of life.)
She explained that interspersed throughout would be shots of her singing amid a sea of lilies.
Taken by word of mouth alone, it all sounded wonderfully simple — but the treatment document told a different story. I opened it without much thought and froze solid.
…What is this.
The sheer volume I was expected to shoot was staggering. And the locations varied wildly: a library, a school auditorium, even a prom. One scene, where I'd appear for barely ten seconds if I was lucky, was set in a football stadium packed to the brim with extras.
The cost of all those extras alone won't be small.
There was a substantial amount of CGI work required, too. Even skimming casually, the scale dwarfed your average drama.
(Um, there's something I'm curious about.)
(Ask me anything!)
(What's the budget cap for the music video? If we shoot it exactly as written here, the production costs seem like they'll be… rather substantial.)
(A budget cap?)
Lily tilted her head at my hesitant question — with a laugh that said she'd never once heard such a thing in her life.
(There's no such thing for my music videos.)
(….)
I see how it is.
For the second time that day, I was sharply reminded just who I was talking to.
And that realization grew only stronger when we arrived at the hotel I'd been told would be my home for the next two weeks.
Lily. You are rich, rich.
Did they gild this hotel in actual gold?
Everything from the floor to the ceiling gleamed so brightly it hurt my eyes. I kept my expression carefully composed the whole way through, and only when Jinbae and I were finally alone did I let out a long, deep sigh.
"Hyung, what am I going to do? This is serious."
"Why? Are you feeling unwell?"
"No, it's not that…."
I gazed at the bedding, which looked soft even at a glance, and muttered with a troubled heart.
"It's just… places like this are starting to feel normal to me."
It still felt like more than I deserved — but the way it used to make me flinch was gone. And that change frightened me.
"I think I've come down with celebrity sickness. What do I do? Is there a cure for this…?"
"…."
I ran my fingers over the wristwatch Jinbae had given me — the very first gift he'd ever bought me. It still looked excessive to my eyes, and it was still one of my most treasured possessions.
What happens if this feeling changes too?
What if the day came when I grew arrogant and slipped up because of it?
A faint anxiety crept in, and I was chewing at my lip when Jinbae drifted quietly over.
"Lily was right, you know."
"About what?"
"You really are captivating, sir."
I looked up and met his eyes. There was warm amusement swimming in them.
"I hope you'll come to take these things for granted even more than you do now. It's yours — you earned it through your own hard work."
Jinbae picked up the duvet I'd been staring at and brought it over. He draped it across my shoulders and murmured:
"Enjoy it. With your head held higher than this."
The fabric brushed the back of my neck, impossibly soft. The warmth of it made me drowsy on its own, and I swallowed down a sigh.
Then I delivered a cool, clinical verdict on my own condition.
"…Yep. It's celebrity sickness."
"Haha!"
And then Jinbae's laughter, spilling out after it — until there wasn't a single piece of it I wanted to give back, which was exactly the problem.