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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: An NG Scene
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He said he’d just whip something up with whatever ingredients were on hand, but before long, Eun-seong had made a perfect plate of oil pasta. He served it beautifully in a large, thick bowl, then grated some Italian cheese over the top.
“Whoa, you can make it look this pretty? Where did you learn to do this?”
“Had to learn to survive. It's a combat skill of sorts.”
Eun-seong set a fork down for her. Yeon-joo, who had been staring down at the plate as if admiring the stylish, clean plating, looked up.
“But why is there only one plate?”
“It's for you. I'm good.”
Sitting on a long-legged stool at the kitchen island, Eun-seong poured her a glass of lukewarm water. After staring at the plate for a moment, Eun-seong stood up again.
“I think I have some jalapeños. I'll get you some.”
“No, it's okay. I'm fine.”
Stopping him, Yeon-joo quickly picked up her fork. She glanced at his face again, a skeptical look in her eyes, before taking a bite of the pasta.
Whoa.
“Oh my god, how can it be this good? No way.”
“Glad you like it. I was worried it might be bland since I don't use much salt.”
“It's really, really, *really* good. You could sell this!”
The rich, fragrant oil coated the noodles perfectly, exploding with a savory yet clean flavor in her mouth. The combination of perfectly cooked garlic, crushed peperoncino, and black pepper was brilliant. And with the occasional hint of basil and cheese, nothing was out of place.
“Are you sure you're not having any?”
“I told you, I'm good.”
“Why not? Let's eat together. There's plenty.”
“It's infuriating how something so tasteless can make you gain weight.”
Yeon-joo, who had been lost in the food, looked up sharply. She glared at Eun-seong as he nibbled on a sliver of cheese, then went back to chewing her pasta.
“How can he say this is tasteless? How is that even possible?”
*If he weren't here, I'd be tempted to lick the plate clean.*
“I'm managing my diet. Nothing tastes good when you're dieting.”
“I'm on a diet too, you know.”
“Give it up. What fat do you have to lose?”
Hmph. As she twirled her fork to lift the noodles, Yeon-joo discreetly sucked in her stomach. She never wanted him, with his indifferent expression, chewing on cheese as if it were a rubber band, to ever see the slight bulge of her belly.
*I'm really, truly going on a diet. Starting tomorrow.*
“Want a glass of champagne?”
Eun-seong, who had been resting his chin on his hand while eating cheese, stood up. It seemed that eating cheese alone had naturally led his mind to a champagne pairing.
Feeling a little guilty for eating alone in front of someone on a diet, Yeon-joo wiped her oily lips with a napkin and nodded.
“Then please pick a good one. Nothing too strong.”
“Hold on. I'll find something suitable.”
As Eun-seong hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on the wine rack, Yeon-joo watched him. Watching his face, so focused on selecting a wine as if it were a matter of grave concern, her vision seemed to drift into the distance.
The mere act of watching him turned the moment into a scene from a movie. She felt as if she were watching a one-take scene of a master actor, captured with the utmost care and devotion by the camera. His gaze, his touch, even the long trail of his breath—everything seemed imbued with a director's grand intent and meaning, and she didn't want to miss a single detail.
His life was like a film.
An incomparably perfect and brilliant art house film, crafted with the effort of countless people, so flawless that not a single error could be found.
Even in this moment, Im Eun-seong was someone's dream, a pioneer others wished to follow, and the pride of Korea, writing a new history with his every step. That was undeniable.
To put it another way, his life was already determined, from beginning to end. An NG—a mistake—in the middle was not only impossible, but unacceptable.
“Ah. This one should be good.”
Having found a suitable bottle, Eun-seong held up the champagne and smiled like a child. That smile, reserved just for her, felt both precious and sad. Yeon-joo offered a small smile in return.
*My appearance in his life is an NG.*
“The alcohol content is low, too. It's good. Let's go with this.”
“Okay. I look forward to trying it.”
*Like the dark green moss or lichen that grows unbidden, wrapping around a tree trunk—a flawed piece of film to be scraped away and wiped clean.*
It was a conclusion she couldn't deny, no matter how much she wanted to look away or reject it. In the end, I will be erased like a useless strip of film, and he will sail on smoothly. As if he had never had an NG in his life.
*
“How did you get to know Director Jin Hae-yeong? You two seem close.”
“Ah, Director Jin.”
Yeon-joo stared at her champagne flute. The elegant glass, shaped like a chalice, caught the light beautifully from every angle.
“It was a while ago. We first met as landlord and tenant.”
“Ah.”
“She was living in the same villa back then. The building was in her parents' name, so to be precise, she was the landlord's daughter.”
A memory from seven years ago already.
“We paid a maintenance fee, but my mom would clean the villa's staircase every weekend. It was a habit from when we lived in a detached house; she said it felt strange not to do it.”
No one asked her to, and no one expected it, but my mom always cleaned the stairs on weekend mornings. Yeon-joo, exhausted from raising a much younger Han-byeol, thought it was a pointless task but would reluctantly go out to help.
Lost in the memory, Yeon-joo's eyes softened.
“It's a long story, but anyway, we met while I was cleaning the stairs. She adored Han-byeol and would occasionally come over to our place. Then we started taking trips together, and eventually, we became the kind of friends who feel awkward if they don't see each other every day. That's how it happened.”
“She sounds like a good person.”
“Yes. Very much so.”
Yeon-joo nodded in fervent agreement with his words and took a sip of her champagne. As she gazed at the beautifully colored drink, his next question came.
“You don't keep in touch with any of your old classmates?”
“Well, no. That's just how it turned out.”
This time, a detailed explanation felt difficult, so Yeon-joo took another sip of champagne. Her heart pounded, afraid he might ask why she cut them off.
“I barely keep in touch with anyone either.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“At first, I just let people contact me if they wanted to, but at some point, the requests for money started piling up.”
This time, it was Eun-seong who drank his champagne. Yeon-joo slowly closed and opened her eyes.
“Every story I heard was pitiful, every situation urgent, so I lent them money whenever I could.”
“I guess you never got it back.”
“To be honest, I never expected to. But then, they'd just naturally stop contacting me.”
“...”
“I could deal with the money, but I was losing the people, too.”
He explained that he'd been hurt, unintentionally, and after being betrayed—or something like it—by people he thought he had good relationships with, he came to believe isolation was better.
Surviving in this brutal, cruel, pyramid-like structure, monopolized by the top 0.01% of stars, the one thing he learned was this: don't trust people.
And abandon the thought that you can give your trust to anyone.
“It turns you cynical. It's inevitable. That's actually why I hoped your son wouldn't enter this industry.”
“...”
“There's no guarantee Han-byeol wouldn't end up cynical, like me.”
*There's no guarantee he wouldn't end up like me.*
Hearing such self-deprecating words from him—a man who stood surrounded by people who served him, a man who seemed to lack for nothing—Yeon-joo let out a quiet breath.
“Han-byeol will go back to his normal life once this shoot is over. He doesn't seem to want more, and I, too, want to be content with an ordinary life.”
*Because I want to be content with an ordinary life.*
This time, it was Eun-seong who let out a long breath. He knew all too well how precious it was to lead a normal life—one that was neither unusual nor special. A life without extreme success or ruin—isn't that what so many people wish and dream for?
It was now a dream he could no longer achieve. *If you stay with me, it will become a life you can't achieve, either.*
“You'll be busy after the shoot, won't you?”
“Well, probably.”
“Are you leaving the country?”
“I imagine so.”
Hearing his short answers, devoid of their usual elaboration, Yeon-joo slowly nodded. She had severed a heavenly bond, but her fear of his downfall grew so great that she couldn't bring herself to say anything.
She reminded herself again that Han-byeol was not *their* child, but *her* child—a choice and a decision she had made alone.
“Being busy is a good thing. It means you're loved by that many people.”
“But I don't have a life of my own. Well, I'm used to it, so it's bearable.”
In a way, it was a relief that there was a predetermined end. It seemed easier to handle than a tenacious bond whose future was impossible to predict.
Even if she didn't try to force an end to their connection, the finale would arrive naturally. Naturally and clearly.
“You may call yourself cynical, Baeunim, but you're still a good person.”
Eun-seong's hand, which was lifting his champagne, flinched.
“You're very considerate of the staff you work with, you always keep an eye on the atmosphere on set, and you're not afraid to step in for difficult tasks.”
“I told you, it's all for my own image.”
“I know that's not something you can just turn on and off. I also know that it's hard to get into character without becoming sensitive and on edge. To maintain your composure in that kind of situation is a difficult thing.”
Most actors were on edge before a shoot. When trying to focus on the other self created within, even the smallest things could set their nerves on fire.
To be able to continue filming without such fluctuations took tremendous effort.
“I'm suddenly full. Must be because Go Yeon-joo complimented me.”
“...Ah, it's hot. Why is it so hot in here?”
When Eun-seong reacted to her words, Yeon-joo started fanning herself with her hand. Her face, already flushed red, felt hot, and her long hair suddenly felt stifling.
“I should tie my hair up... Ah!”
She was lifting her arms to pull a hair tie from her wrist and tie up her hair. But as she did, her elbow bumped the precariously placed champagne flute, knocking it to the floor, where it shattered.
“Aah! Aaaah!”
Startled, Yeon-joo scrambled to her feet. Eun-seong stood up as well, holding out a hand.
“Don't move. Stay right where you are.”
“I-Isn't this a really expensive glass? It broke, what do I do?”
“Just stay still. Wait, just wait.”
Afraid she might move, Eun-seong repeated himself as he moved closer. At that, Yeon-joo pushed him away with a horrified look.
“You're the one who shouldn't come closer, Baeunim! What if you get hurt?”
“You're the one who needs to stay still. Huh? You're pushing me? Did you just push me? You want to go?”
“No, I'm telling you not to come here. I'll clean it up, so stay there...”
Eun-seong slipped his arms under hers and lifted her up in one swift motion. He set her down on the island counter, then tilted his head slightly, his face close to hers.
“Just stay put. That would be the most helpful thing you can do.”
“Ah, uh, yes, uh, okay. Yes.”
The shock of suddenly being lifted into the air, combined with the feel of his hands near her chest, drained the color from her flushed face, turning it pale.
Seeing her suddenly go still and quiet, Eun-seong raised an eyebrow.
“And you, don't lose weight.”
He gave her a scolding look before bending down. It didn't take long for him to clean up the mess on the floor.
