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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: An Invitation
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52.
After successfully finishing the reshoot, Han-byeol began his second filming session. He arrived on set after school with his agency’s manager, and as soon as he got there, he practically rolled into Eun-seong’s waiting room.
His expectant, round eyes darted about, scanning the room. Huh, he’s not here.
Confirming Eun-seong’s absence, a wave of disappointment washed over Han-byeol’s eyes. His lip jutted out in a pout, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Oh, the little one’s here?”
The makeup director greeted Han-byeol, who was standing stock-still. Han-byeol mumbled a reply.
“Hello.”
The makeup director waved him in. Clutching the straps of the backpack he habitually wore, Han-byeol walked over to the sofa. He wanted to ask if the Filial-Piety-Is-Paid-in-Cash Mister wasn’t here today, but a strange stubbornness kept the question from escaping his lips.
“Han-byeol, would you like something to drink?”
“No, I’m okay.”
His sunken mood showed no signs of lifting. As Han-byeol shook his head and declined, the makeup director raised her eyebrows before suddenly smiling.
“Ah, so Han-byeol is waiting for someone?”
Feeling a prick of guilt, Han-byeol just fidgeted with his fingers.
“Your mom is busy with the other actors right now. It’ll probably be a while before she can come to the waiting room. Is that okay?”
Thinking he was waiting for his mother, the makeup director whispered to him. Han-byeol nodded with a glum expression. Of course, seeing his mom was nice, but there was someone else he wanted to see more.
“Hey there, One Star.”
It was then. A familiar nickname, a familiar voice. Han-byeol shot up from his seat as if propelled by a spring. His shoulders, which had been slumped just moments before, straightened, and he lifted his head, looking perfectly unruffled.
With a mischievous smile that was contagious to behold, Han-byeol looked up at Eun-seong. His eyes sparkled brightly, like plump, round drops of water.
“Hello!”
“Hey, hello to you too. When did you get here?”
“Just a little while ago!”
His voice grew louder along with his soaring spirits. The makeup director let out a small, amused laugh at the odd sight before turning away, while Eun-seong sat down on the sofa with Han-byeol.
He reflexively patted Han-byeol’s head. The child who used to scowl and growl, telling him not to touch, had at some point started to accept it meekly. Eun-seong crossed his legs and gave Han-byeol a warm smile.
The boy immediately rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a chocolate. He held it out on his palm, and Eun-seong looked down at it and smiled.
“Did you just get out of school?”
“Yes. As you can see.”
The boy shrugged the shoulder bearing his backpack, and Eun-seong helped him take it off. Placing it beside them, he tilted his head and looked at the boy again. As if sensing the gaze, Han-byeol kept looking away, and in his averted profile, Eun-seong caught glimpses of Yeon-joo.
“Looking at you like this, you really resemble your mom.”
“Yes. Everyone says so. They say I especially look like her around the mouth and eyes. Not my nose, though.”
Han-byeol’s eyes crossed as if trying to look down at his own nose, and he fiddled with its bridge. His nose was remarkably well-defined, as if it had been sculpted with an implant. *Did he get it from his father?* Eun-seong gazed at him for a moment before letting out a quiet breath.
One fact he hadn't realized, with all the attention focused on Go Yeon-joo for not having a husband.
The child has no father.
“One Star. Did you miss me?”
“I don’t know. I’m not gonna say.”
“When are you going to tell me?”
“I don’t know that either. Ah, I don’t know.”
That fact struck him today as particularly poignant and bittersweet. Looking into the child’s bright, clear eyes, which showed no trace of sorrow or cracks, he felt an adult’s sense of responsibility well up inside him—a desire to protect him, to keep anything murky from tainting him.
As Eun-seong lowered the hand that had been patting his head, Han-byeol seemed to think for a moment before touching the back of his own head.
“My grandma said the back of my head is pretty, too.”
“Is that so?”
It was a signal to keep patting, but Eun-seong, oblivious, simply stroked the back of Han-byeol’s head.
“Oh, it is pretty.”
“My grandma said my head is pretty because she always carried me on her back when I was a baby. I cried a lot whenever they laid me down, so she carried me on her back all the time. My head never had a chance to get flat.”
Unable to hold it in, Eun-seong burst out laughing.
“The back of my head is pretty too, you know. Want to feel it?”
Eun-seong lowered his head, inviting him to touch it. Han-byeol looked for a moment before hesitantly reaching out. He slipped his hand through the well-styled hair and felt around. The smooth, even curve felt similar to his own.
“Yours is pretty too, Mister. I guess your head never had a chance to get flat either.”
“It’s hard to find a million-dollar head like this, but look at that, One Star has one too.”
Pleased to have found something he had in common with the Filial-Piety-Is-Paid-in-Cash Mister, Han-byeol smiled. Eun-seong’s gaze swept over the child in detail before stopping at his fingers.
He looked at the boy’s outstretched thumb, then at his own. His thumb, shaped like a sleek club, was longer than average, and Han-byeol’s was the same.
“You know, my birthday is coming up soon.”
“...Huh? What? What did you say? Your birthday?”
Eun-seong, who had been lost in thought for a moment, asked again. It mustn’t have been an easy thing to say, as Han-byeol started swinging his legs back and forth, only nodding his head.
“It’s One Star’s birthday? When?”
“The week after the week after next.”
“Aha. The week after the week after next. That’s really not far off.”
Trying to get his birthday celebrated three weeks in advance—the cuteness of it made him smile faintly.
“If there’s anything you want, tell me. I’ll buy it for you as a present.”
At the offer of a gift, Han-byeol’s head shot up.
“There’s nothing I want.”
“Well, if you think about it slowly, something might come to mind. Something expensive that your mom would absolutely, never, ever buy you.”
How about some real estate?
“Or a computer, a laptop, a game console, or a phone would be good too.”
“Wow…”
The temptation of new gadgets was so great that Han-byeol’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. But it was far from the plan he had already decided on. Steeling himself, Han-byeol opened his mouth.
“That’s okay. Instead, do you want to come to my house on my birthday?”
The child’s unexpected proposal made Eun-seong’s lips part slightly. Having extended the invitation, Han-byeol, worried he might be rejected, began to speak faster.
“No, it’s not for any other reason. Usually, I have a birthday party with my grandma and mom, but you know, it’s nice to have more people. My grandma is a really, really good cook, and her japchae and bulgogi are especially delicious.”
“...”
“I bet you’d find it super, super delicious if you tried it. And my mom makes great pizza, too. Sometimes she even makes fried chicken, and if I tell her you’re coming, she’ll probably fry some chicken and make a pizza.”
“...”
“But it’s okay if you can’t come. I was just asking. To be honest, I usually like having a birthday party with just my grandma and mom the best…”
“I’ll go.”
The boy, whose neck had started to turn red as if from anxiety, lifted his head. Eun-seong slowly closed his eyes, then opened them and said again.
“I’ll go. Thanks for inviting me.”
“Are you really going to come?”
“The japchae sounds delicious, I want to try the bulgogi, and if you’re offering chicken and pizza too, there’s no reason not to go.”
His face a mask of surprise, Han-byeol nodded. He would have to pester his grandma and mom for days to make sure he secured those dishes.
“You’ll be surprised when you try it! You’ll want to come to our house again!”
“But I’d go even without the food. Because it’s your birthday.”
Eun-seong leaned in close to Han-byeol’s face and whispered in his ear.
“Just you wait. I’ll bring everything—the computer, laptop, game console, and phone.”
“Yes, this is awesome! Yay!”
Unable to hide his excitement, Han-byeol jumped off the sofa and started bouncing around. Eun-seong burst into laughter.
* * *
“Ugh, the traffic is so bad. We should have left earlier.”
Hae-yeong, at the wheel, sighed at the bumper-to-bumper crawl. It was afternoon in Seoul, as dusk settled. The sky, once tinged with orange, turned a dark red and then, in an instant, it was night. A long line of cars with red taillights stretched ahead, and they were stuck in the evening rush hour, barely making it through a short green light only to get caught at the next one.
“The days have gotten so much shorter. Not long ago, it was still bright out at this time.”
“I know. It’s already completely dark.”
“We’re off the clock, so let’s drop the formalities, Yeon-joo. It makes me uncomfortable listening to you.”
Hae-yeong grumbled that in gaining a smart and capable employee, she seemed to have lost a close friend. Han-byeol, having finished his short scenes, had already gone home with the manager, and for the first time in a while, Hae-yeong and Yeon-joo had decided to have dinner together.
“Now that I’ve seen you working on set, Eonni, I don’t think I can call you that anymore.”
“Why?”
“You’re such a big shot. I knew it before, but seeing it in person makes it feel real every day.”
The charisma of a director at a major entertainment company was palpable. Even without exerting any influence, her gaze alone had the power to make everyone around her tense up. The atmosphere shifted depending on whether she smiled or chose her words carefully.
There was a considerable gap between the Hae-yeong at work and the one who would drink soju all night with carelessly sliced kimchi, crash wherever, and fall asleep in the living room.
Neither version was better or worse; she just loved the multifaceted charm of Hae-yeong. And she respected her.
“Yeon-joo, I hope we can work together for a long time. Let’s do the next project together, too. Not as the youngest on the team, but as the second-in-command.”
As the light changed, Hae-yeong turned the wheel. Although Yeon-joo had drifted as a freelancer for a long time, she had considerable experience and a good sense. If social skills were as valuable a talent as any, she had that in spades as well.
“Okay. I’ll think about it.”
“Good. You have to play hard to get to raise your value. Do that everywhere you go. That way, people who try to rip you off for cheap won’t latch on.”
Yeon-joo burst out laughing again at Hae-yeong’s straightforward comment. No sooner had she made a left turn than they were caught at another light. Slowing down, Hae-yeong came to a stop.
Ahead, on an outdoor billboard on a towering building, was a pictorial of Eun-seong. It was a watch advertisement. Hae-yeong stared at his picture, tapping the steering wheel at a slow rhythm.
Yeon-joo, noticing the billboard a moment after Hae-yeong, held her breath and took a long, quiet inhale. Sensing that Yeon-joo’s eyes were on the photo, Hae-yeong spoke.
“He’s been the exclusive model for that brand for a long time. Eun-seong, I mean.”
“Ah, yeah. I don’t really know.”
“He signed the contract when he was a rookie. Back then, I think he was the first male Asian model they had.”
Hae-yeong, who knew the history by heart, explained, and Yeon-joo nodded. In truth, she knew it all very well, but there was no need to reveal that.
The light at the intersection was quite long. Hae-yeong, who had been staring at Eun-seong’s photo, shook her head slightly and opened her lips.
“Hey, Yeon-joo.”
“Yeah?”
“I was planning to ask you slowly over dinner when the time was right, but I just can’t wait.”
“What?”
Yeon-joo’s eyes widened at Hae-yeong’s cryptic words.
“Yeon-joo, let me just ask you one thing. Please understand, even if this sounds ridiculous. I know how absurd I sound for even asking.”
“What is it?”
She didn’t want to continue this unbelievable speculation on her own any longer. Hae-yeong decided it was better to just ask quickly and get a quick answer. She hoped it was her misunderstanding, desperately wishing that at the end of her question, Yeon-joo would laugh and ask what kind of nonsense she was spouting.
“About Han-byeol’s father.”
They were on their way to get lamb skewers.
“Is it… Im Eun-seong?”
