Mudflat Olympics
When I first showed the public something under the name Yoon Seo-ah, could that truly be called my debut? The impromptu reactions and fleeting emotions tossed out without a script in front of a variety show camera, the exaggerated gestures and speech designed to draw laughs from the viewers. It certainly imprinted the name “me” in the public’s mind. But was there any essential element of an actress in it?
If we’re talking about a debut work, shouldn’t it be the first moment I experienced dissolving myself while acting out another person’s life? The moment I put on a specific role’s clothes, spoke the lines, shed tears, and fully absorbed that character’s pain—only then was Yoon Seo-ah the actress truly born into the world. That, I wanted to claim, was my real debut. So while a variety show might serve as my birth registration, it wasn’t proof of my existence. I only debuted when I forged someone else’s story with my whole body in front of the cold camera.
In that case, if Kkureogi Tamheomdae was my birth, then Sarang-i Pineun Jeongwon—Sapi-jeong—was my true beginning.
I stared intently at the eight-year-old in the mirror. Big round eyes, chubby cheeks still full of baby fat, a dainty little mouth. Every feature was perfectly placed, the harmony beautiful. Cute, angelic, and lovable no matter who looked. The role of Bom-i I would play with this face was only the start. In the future I could become someone’s daughter, a first love, a hero saving the world, or a villain bent on destroying it. Wearing and shedding all those masks, flipping the switch on and off, I would live this paradoxical life of proving the existence called “me.”
“Yoon Seo-ah… you are…”
The moment I tried to deliver a solemn line to the girl in the mirror, the door burst open with a bang and a cold gust rushed in. It was Yoon Ji-ah.
“...”
“...”
We both froze the instant our eyes met. Yoon Ji-ah stiffened as well, locked in a stare with me.
“Narcissism…?”
“N-no! It’s not that! You’re misunderstanding! It’s a misunderstanding! Hey! Where are you going!”
Her gaze was a perfect seven-to-three mix of contempt and pity.
“Well, I suppose it’s not bad for an actress to be overflowing with self-love.”
“I said it’s not! I was reflecting on my identity as an actress!”
My face burned as I shouted. Embarrassment crashed over me. Of all people, why did it have to be Yoon Ji-ah who caught me? Why hadn’t I locked the door?
Yoon Ji-ah sat on the edge of the bed as if none of it mattered.
“You have Kkureogi Tamheomdae filming tomorrow, right? Outdoor shoot, overnight trip.”
“Yeah, that’s why Mom’s packing my bag.”
“Exactly. While you’re busy drowning in self-love, sis.”
“You wanna die?”
“If I die, our family’s finances collapse.”
“...”
Yoon Ji-ah left the room without another word. I had no idea why she’d come in the first place. Was there a CCTV in my room or something? Last time and this time too. Was it really coincidence that she always burst in at moments like these?
…Is she reading my mind?
That prophet of a girl….
The next morning we arrived at the west coast tidal flat in Mom’s car. It was the early 2000s—the violent, sadistic era that only called it a proper variety show if you threw your body into every possible hardship. And so a catastrophe had occurred: even elementary school kids were dragged out to the mudflats.
But I, Yoon Seo-ah, older sister of the financial monster spawned by capitalism, would never lose my professional spirit just because I was getting paid to work.
“…But I already want to go home.”
“Aigoo, just think of it as a fun trip, Seo-ah.”
It wasn’t a fun trip, yet she told me to treat it like one. Mom really did have the makings of an actress. The mother-daughter actress trio of Mom, me, and Yoon Ji-ah might be the fastest route to printing money.
I walked briskly and joined the filming crew. Couldn’t they just shoot right next to the parking lot? Why come all the way out here to suffer…
Stop. The lazy, indolent Yoon Seo-ah was dead. Only the professional actress Yoon Seo-ah existed now.
I revived the dying light in my eyes and forced the corners of my mouth upward. Anyone who saw me would think I was an eight-year-old thrilled to be playing on the mudflat. Simply changing my expression already improved my mood.
“Whoa! Isn’t that Yoon Seo-ah, the superstar of Sapi-jeong?”
“Hahaha, hello! I’m the actress Yoon Seo-ah!”
“The treasure of Kkureogi Tamheomdae! The pearl of Kkureogi Tamheomdae! The light and salt of Kkureogi Tamheomdae!”
“Uahaha! Kahaha! Puhaha!”
She was fully decked out in pink rubber boots, flower-patterned momppe pants, and a straw hat—the undisputed leader of mudflat fashion. At this rate the boots and pants would sell out completely; the thought crossed my mind unbidden.
“Seo-ah! Let’s take a picture together!”
“Our vice-captain looks gorgeous even in momppe pants?”
“Bom-i is so pretty!”
Buoyed by the staff’s cheers, I power-walked in front of them, instantly turning the area into a runway. The crew burst into laughter. Mom happily filmed everything on video.
While I was greeting the staff and showing off my charms, a van approached from the distance. Park Si-hoo’s van. The moment he stepped out, he scrunched his face and pinched his nose. The mudflat smell was making him turn every color. What a fussy young master.
“All right! We’ll begin filming shortly!”
The other kids were nowhere in sight; they must have been waiting in the vehicles. Once Park Si-hoo arrived, the crew announced standby.
…So he’s the last one? Already acting like a spoiled brat at his age.
I glared at him with everything I had, but he just smirked, put on a greasy expression, and waved at me. He was definitely insane.
After Park Si-hoo finished his half-hearted greetings, the assistant director gathered the children.
“Okay, kids. Let’s move.”
“Yes!”
We followed the assistant director to the opening location and stepped exactly onto the spots marked with masking tape.
“Recording starts now! Audio check! Camera roll!”
PD Kim Chul-min’s voice rang out as equipment checks continued. I took a deep breath and put on the most excited face in the world.
“Slate!”
The assistant director rushed forward, clapped the slate, and dashed back out of frame. The opening had begun.
“Hello, Kkureogi friends! I’m expedition leader Park Si-hoo!”
Park Si-hoo forced a smile as he opened the show. I could clearly see him fighting the urge to pinch his nose. Entertainers really were something. The second the camera started rolling, he became a perfectly normal kid.
“Hello! I’m the mudflat fairy, Vice-leader Yoon Seo-ah!”
I blew a kiss at the camera and spun in place. My momppe pants fluttered wildly, but my confidence was every bit as strong as if I were wearing a Coco Chanel dress.
Min-jun, Ji-hye, and Ro-un finished their greetings in turn.
“What’s today’s game, Captain?”
“Today is the Mudflat Olympics. We’ll decide the strongest member of Kkureogi Tamheomdae. We start with the two-person tidal-flat sled race!”
Park Si-hoo finished the explanation according to the script.
Two-person sled. There were five of us—how did that make two-person teams? No one asked the obvious question. The team with an odd one out naturally went last, and they would draw lots again right before the game. One person would run two races, but the higher score of the two would count. I explained it step by step in terms the children could understand.
“It’s like going to the arcade to play Tekken. Everyone else puts in one hundred won, but you put in two hundred won by yourself. Does everyone get it?”
“Yes!”
“Vice-captain explains so well!”
Running twice? I didn’t mind. Actually, I welcomed it. An eight-year-old was invincible and an elementary kid was basically a god. I was already itching to run. In my head I had already gone swimming in the mud.
The lottery box appeared. Order didn’t matter in a draw. While the other kids rushed forward, my leisurely walk would stand out. I simply strolled over.
Red ball, blue ball, green ball. The children drew in order. I reached in without thinking.
A red ball popped out.
“Who else got red?”
When I held mine up, someone beside me let out a heavy sigh. It was Park Si-hoo. A red ball rested in his hand too.
“…Ah.”
“…Wow.”
We sighed at the exact same time.
A mudflat game with the fussy young master? This was the worst possible matchup.
“Whoa! The captain and vice-captain are on the same team!”
“What? Are they invincible or something?”
“Cheating! It’s a cheat key!”
The kids shouted excitedly while the camera zoomed in on our faces. This was one hundred percent getting the subtitle Fantasy Couple?!
“Yoon Seo-ah, you ride. I’ll pull.”
I was eight. Compared to thirteen-year-old Park Si-hoo I was much lighter. Naturally his limbs were longer and he was stronger. So who riding would give us the best chance of winning? Obviously me. I was bewildered that he would say something so obvious while trying to sound cool.
The flag was roughly fifteen meters away—thirty meters round trip. Not too close, but not terribly far. First place was ours for the taking.
Physically, crew member Kim Min-jun looked strongest, but he was paired with Lee Ro-un. Ro-un was king-sized, which also made him king-cute. In other words, he was big. Not fat, just plump, but the largest kid in the entire show. Park Ji-hye would draw again at the end and pair with whoever came out. Whoever it was, she looked heavier than me, so I wasn’t worried. As long as Park Si-hoo pulled normally, we had the highest chance of winning. If it ended up Min-jun and Ji-hye it might get a little tricky, but with so few people, what were the odds?
I’m betting all my snacks on our team winning.
And then my prediction went wrong the instant the race began.
“…Captain! Why aren’t you going faster? I didn’t even eat breakfast!”
“Ah, wait! My feet keep sinking—I can’t run!”
Park Si-hoo was flailing, his feet sinking deep into the mud with every step. Our sled crawled forward at a snail’s pace. At this rate we’d record the slowest time. His frame looked perfectly fine—why couldn’t he use his strength? Time to give him some courage.
“…Captain, do you like foot baths? Oh, wait. Now I see—you like swimming. You’re doing freestyle on the mudflat.”
“Shut up, I’m losing strength!”
It seemed hopeless. My cheerleading wasn’t working. Only one option remained.
TS was supposed to be invincible and I was a god.
“Get down.”
“What?”
“I’ll pull. You ride!”
“…What are you talking about? How are you going to pull?”
“Stop talking and get on!”
I leaped off the sled, stuffed Park Si-hoo into it, and grabbed the rope. A strong body begins with a strong mind.
“Urya!”
I kicked off the mudflat in a low stance and shot forward.
“Uwaaaak! Hey! Wait!”
Park Si-hoo screamed. I screamed too. Splat— This body is weak, and I’m an idiot.