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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: The Sole Firefighter
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18.
‘I’ve joined the team as the dog trainer. I won’t be on set every time, but I suppose I’ll see you occasionally, Yeon-joo.’
Sitting at the dining table, Yeon-joo toyed with her mug as she thought of Dr. Joo. More precisely, her focus was on the strange connection that she couldn't quite explain.
‘Since you’re my senior on set, Yeon-joo, I look forward to working with you.’
She had thought the world was vast beyond measure. That hiding herself would be the easiest thing.
But the moment she took a step back into it, she ran into Eun-seong again, and she became colleagues with the veterinarian she never imagined she'd cross paths with.
It was as if the world had been waiting for her to emerge, ready to pounce. As if to say, there's nowhere to hide. No matter how you curl up, the moment you lift your head, everyone will find you.
*Well, you see, Han-byeol doesn't have a father.*
Lost in thought, Yeon-joo suddenly lifted her head. She remembered how casually she had told Dr. Joo that she didn't have a husband, and her eyes widened in spite of herself.
She had lied to Eun-seong and the head makeup artist that she had a husband, and a wave of fear washed over her at the thought of the stories not matching up.
You never know what might happen, so she resolved to ask for Dr. Joo's understanding and discretion before filming began.
“What’re you doin’ up?”
“Ah, Mom.”
Just as Yeon-joo was struggling to fall asleep, Madam Na, fresh from her shower, stood before the dining table, rubbing her hair with a towel.
“Don't drink so much water at night. You'll wake up to use the bathroom.”
“Mom, what am I, a kid?”
“Of course you are.”
As Yeon-joo let out a small laugh, Madam Na sat down across from her. The familiar scent of rose-scented lotion, now her mother's signature fragrance, wafted gently through the air.
Madam Na began to speak. Looking at her daughter's face, unable to sleep, she could see it was full of worry.
“You think it'll be okay?”
“Huh? What will?”
“Han-byeol. I'm askin' if he'll be okay.”
Having gone and signed the contract so abruptly, Madam Na's worries were considerable as well.
The start of anything was always unsettling. Because you could never know if it would turn out to be a good thing or not.
“Well, we have to try. Since Han-byeol said he wants to do it.”
“That's true, but that industry is full of gossip. There's no guarantee Han-byeol will keep doin' well after this. Isn't that whole world famous for stringin' people along with false hope?”
“If it's his dream, he'll have to overcome it. Han-byeol needs to start learning these things one by one.”
“Aigoo, I wonder what we've gotten ourselves into. I just hope we're not gettin' the kid's hopes up for nothin', only for him to suffer later.”
Madam Na muttered, shaking out the towel. It was only because they were family that worry could pool like this before something good.
While everyone else saw only the positive and offered congratulations, family looked into the negative aspects hidden in the shadows and nurtured their concerns.
“Well, since you'll be on set, this mother of yours can worry a little less.”
“I won't be much help. You should trust Hae-yeong. She'll take good care of Han-byeol.”
“What sin did she commit to be lookin' after someone else's child so devotedly? You be good to Hae-yeong.”
“Yes. I will.”
Yeon-joo looked up and let out a long sigh. She was about to take a sip of her still-warm tea but remembered her mother's nagging not to drink too much and put the mug down.
“Mom. When did our Han-byeol get so big?”
“Tell me about it. It feels like just yesterday I was carryin' him on my front and back.”
“Han-byeol won't grow up exactly the way I want him to from now on, will he? He'll be different every day, right?”
Taking in Yeon-joo's soft voice, which wished her child could remain a child in her arms a little longer, Madam Na quietly exhaled.
*How could I not understand that feeling? I raised you with that very same heart.*
“Yeon-joo. Even my own day doesn't go the way I want it to. How could a child's day ever go the way you want?”
“...”
“The world doesn't work the way you want it to. That's why they say it all depends on your mindset. If you change your perspective each time, big problems become small, and small problems become nothin' at all. That's how it is.”
Yeon-joo met her mother's gaze. The worry that had been a hard lump inside her seemed to melt away.
“I guess I am a kid. I should listen to my mom.”
“You're just figurin' that out now? You little brat. Now get to bed. Sittin' there with your eyes wide open will only make you age faster.”
“Okay. I'm going.”
As Yeon-joo got up from her seat, Madam Na called out to her in an indifferent tone.
“Yeon-joo.”
“Yes?”
“If it gets too hard, just quit. Since when did we live our lives like we were makin' installment savings? Let's just live as it comes. Don't let your heart rot. Got it?”
...My mother is a firefighter.
When I was on fire and everyone else turned their backs to run, she was the only one who turned her back on them all and ran toward me.
“You're not in this life alone, so don't struggle so hard. It's not just Han-byeol who has a mom. You have one, too.”
“Okay. You get some rest.”
I was safe within the fence that was my mother. It was a blessing.
*
Arriving on set, Yeon-joo took a deep breath in front of the dressing room.
From the moment she saw Eun-seong's van parked there, she couldn't help but feel tense.
She stood there for a long while, then reached for the doorknob. Then let go. She balled her hand into a fist to knock, then dropped it again. She just stood there, hesitating over and over.
In the space Eun-seong occupied, she couldn't speak easily, nor could she laugh easily. She was more conscious of him than anyone, but she consistently feigned indifference.
The only difference was that the cameras weren't rolling; otherwise, she was no different from an actor giving a passionate performance in front of Eun-seong.
As she kept hesitating, unable to bring herself to enter, a voice came from behind her.
“You're going to pass out from holding your breath. Aren't you going in?”
“Oh my gosh...”
Yeon-joo spun around. Seeing Eun-seong, who she'd thought was inside, standing behind her, she made a comical, startled expression.
Eun-seong, who had been watching her struggle to open the door for some time, let out a short sigh.
“Want me to open it for you?”
“Ah, no. I'll get it.”
She opened the door at the speed of light. Stepping into the empty dressing room, Yeon-joo put down her things and started airing the place out.
Eun-seong plopped down on the sofa, and she took out a duster mop and began to wipe the floor.
Eun-seong, holding his script out of habit, watched her. He'd heard that the life of a maknae was tougher than being a daughter-in-law in the old days, but even so, he couldn't help but frown at how wide and vast the scope of her menial tasks seemed to be.
“Is cleaning part of your job too?”
“Uh, well, someone has to do it.”
“Right. And is that someone you?”
“Not exactly, but...”
“Put it down, then.”
Yeon-joo glanced at Eun-seong. She'd been cleaning the floor for a while now, so she wondered why he was being like this all of a sudden.
“Why the sudden change? I've been doing this all along.”
“I'm saying it because it suddenly caught my eye.”
“It's fine. Don't worry about it.”
“How can I not worry about it when you're the one making me worry?”
Eun-seong, who had been sitting, stood up. He then walked over to the still-moving Yeon-joo and grabbed the mop.
As if determined not to let it go, Yeon-joo gripped it with both hands. And as if determined to take it, Eun-seong covered her hands with his and applied pressure.
Their touch was neither tender nor passionate, but both of them were simultaneously reminded of a past warmth.
Their hands, touching for the first time in ten years, felt no different from back then. It was just another person's hand, yet a tingle, like an electric current, shot up from her toes.
Her mind had forgotten, but her cells seemed to remember. The feeling of electricity flowing at the slightest touch, that flutter of excitement—it was baffling to have it reproduced so perfectly.
In the end, it was Yeon-joo who pulled her hand away first. In response, Eun-seong swung the mop wide, like a general's spear.
As a startled Yeon-joo stepped back, Eun-seong used the advanced skills he'd learned from filming historical dramas to spin the mop dazzlingly, sending dust flying, before finally shoving it into a corner with a controlled posture.
It was needlessly masterful and perfect.
As Eun-seong stood there majestically, like a general hearing the drums of victory, the corners of Yeon-joo's mouth turned down. She couldn't stand the sight of him being so ridiculously dramatic.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“Who told you to clean? Why are you loitering around doing things you weren't asked to do?”
“Ah, loitering? You know, I've been debating whether to say something for a while now.”
“Then keep debating. Don't say it. I don't want to hear it.”
Hah. Yeon-joo sighed as she watched Eun-seong return to the sofa. She glared at him as he sat down and picked up his script again, then reached for the mop.
“I told you to put it down.”
“There's so much invisible dust. It's just settled, that's all. There's a lot of it.”
“The dust I breathe, I'll take care of it myself.”
“I breathe it too, you know.”
“...”
Eun-seong's eyebrow twitched. Go Yeon-joo's backtalk, never conceding a single point and retorting to everything, was starting to make his blood boil.
*Can't she just be obedient when I'm trying to help?*
*I have no idea why she's fighting me so hard on this. I'm the master of this dressing room. If I tell her not to clean, shouldn't she be dancing with joy?*
“It's distracting me from my script, so put it down. Who cleans while an actor is trying to read their lines?”
“...I'm sorry.”
Only then did the sound of the mop stop. As expected, using work as an excuse was the most effective plea.
A smirk of victory escaped him, but it was fleeting. The thought that he couldn't get Go Yeon-joo to budge without such a cheap remark made him angry all over again.
She could have just complied and let him be the good guy, but instead, she had to turn him into a prickly boss. He found Go Yeon-joo incredibly infuriating.
*This stubborn Go Yeon-joo. One day, I'll definitely break that stubbornness of hers.*
*Someday.*
…….
*Soooomeday.*
“No one's going to recognize you for coming in early to clean. Focus on tangible results.”
“The kind of work I do is the kind no one ever recognizes. Unlike some people.”
“...”
“What about today? Have you eaten?”
Perhaps feeling a little awkward at the end of her sentence, Yeon-joo asked a question. For a moment, he was pleased at the personal interest, but then he got annoyed again.
*Getting this emotional over a question about whether I've eaten. Pathetic.*
“I don't usually eat breakfast.”
“I saw the food truck on my way in. The menu said dakgaejang.”
“I have carb PTSD. You go eat.”
“Okay.”
Yeon-joo fumbled in her pocket and then pulled out three chocolates, placing them on her palm.
It was the same kind of mini chocolate she had given him in the car before.
“Would you like one of these, at least? They're my son's snacks, but I sometimes steal them.”
“Trying hard to make me an accomplice, are you? Just leave them there.”
It was then that she placed the chocolates on the table. The sight of her pretty fingertips caught his eye, and once again, his heart cried out with a warm ache.
The thought that maybe she was asking because she had no one to eat with crossed Eun-seong's mind. He closed his eyes, then opened them.
He flipped through his script restlessly and swallowed dryly. What if she was asking him to eat with her? His imagination ran wild.
“Well, I don't have an appetite, but we could eat toge—”
“Oh? Yeon-joo, you're here early!”
Just then, his manager, Dong-hwan, walked in, his arms full of luggage. Eun-seong clamped his mouth shut, and Yeon-joo smiled.
“Yes, Dong-hwan. Good morning.”
“You haven't eaten breakfast, right? Let's go eat together before it gets crowded, Yeon-joo.”
Dong-hwan glanced at Eun-seong, who was engrossed in his script. Eun-seong feigned ignorance, playing dumb.
*If he just says the word, asks me to go eat, I'll pretend I can't refuse and get up.*
“Hyeongnim. I'm going to go eat with Yeon-joo. See you later.”
“...”
As Dong-hwan cheerfully cut him out of the picture, Eun-seong kept his mouth shut. Then he closed his script and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“To eat.”
“What? Hyeongnim, you're eating breakfast?”
Eun-seong looked at the startled Dong-hwan, then shifted his gaze to Yeon-joo.
“You said it was dakgaejang. It'll have chicken breast in it, won't it?”
“Ah...”
*Miraculous logic.*
“Come on,” Eun-seong gestured with a nod. He started walking quickly, afraid they'd leave him behind, then hastily turned back to stuff the three chocolates from the table into his pocket.
Then, as Eun-seong led the way as if nothing had happened, Dong-hwan muttered.
“I guess I'll have to pick out just the chicken breast from the dakgaejang. I'll have to inspect it with a hawk's eye.”
“I'll help.”
As Yeon-joo laughed, Dong-hwan scratched his head.
