The next morning, I type out a message to Nathaniel and press Send, hopping into the shower before I can second-guess myself. I kept the message brief. Are you going to say yes? When I get out of the shower, I have a missed call. My heartbeat picks up, only to deflate when I see that it’s from Secretary Park.
She would have texted if it was urgent, so I finish up getting ready for the day, blow-drying and styling my hair, as well as going through my skincare routine—toner, essence, ampoule, serum, sheet mask, eye cream, moisturizer, and sunscreen.
I call Secretary Park while sitting down for breakfast. She picks up after the first ring.
“Perfect timing. I was just about to call you again. The producer of The Woori and Woogi Show invited you back for a follow-up episode, scheduled for later today. Lee Byeol and Tsukumori Rina have already agreed to return as guests.”
“I can’t,” I say, and immediately feel guilty because there’s a possibility that if I don’t participate, they’ll cancel the episode, as they won’t have all three original guests. “I wanted to go and support Hyemi,” I explain. ASAP’s schedule was canceled yesterday, but they have a performance at a different music show tonight.
Secretary Park takes such a long time to reply that I check my phone to see if the call dropped. “Hyemi and the other members agreed that she wouldn’t promote with the group for now.”
“What?” I say, loud enough that Ajumma looks up from where she’s snapping the tails off bean sprouts across the table. She’s leaving tonight to go on a spa retreat with her friends down south. She’ll be gone for the whole week.
Secretary Park clears her throat. “Hyemi felt like she was burdening the girls, and also that she wasn’t in the right mindset to perform. The other members supported her and said they would wait until she was ready to resume promotions, but Hyemi insisted. She said it would make her feel worse to know the others couldn’t perform because of her.”
Oh, Hyemi. “Where is she now?” I push back my chair. I should go to her, make sure she’s all right, that she’s not crying and making herself sick with heartbreak.
I pause.
Except that I’ve already made plans to see my father this morning, and I need to speak with him as soon as possible.
“She’s with her father. I think you should do the radio show,” Secretary Park says. “If they ask about Hyemi, or the episode from last night, you can say something in support of her.”
I nod. “That’s a good idea.”
I hang up with Secretary Park and call Hyemi, but after a few rings it switches to an automated voice message.
I text her instead. Are you busy tonight? A new café opened near Seoul Forest. Want to check it out?
It takes me two hours to travel by bus to my grandmother’s house in Suwon to the south of Seoul, which gives me time to mull over how neither Nathaniel nor Hyemi have responded to my texts.
Hyemi’s lack of response worries me. She’s never taken this long to reply back to one of my messages before. She’s with her father, so she should be all right. Is she telling him that she wants to quit the group?
Opening my message history with Nathaniel is more painful. Before my text this morning, there are a dozen messages from him Saturday night, asking where I am, worrying about if I’m okay. And then before that . . .
I can’t wait to see you tonight.
He also has never taken this long to respond to a text, at least when he has his phone with him. He hasn’t read my message, but he might have seen it pop up as a notification and swiped it away, so that it only appears as if he hasn’t read it.
I’m motion sick by the time I get off the bus and have to walk another twenty minutes uphill in my strappy heels to reach the front gate of my grandmother’s house.
I press the intercom and smile sweatily at my grandmother’s housekeeper who buzzes me through.
The house is a single story but spread out over two thousand square meters of space, with floor-to-ceiling windows that face Gwanggyosan, the mountain north of Suwon. Its lofty peaks appear misty against the skyline. As I head up the manicured walkway, I spot movement through the clear glass windows—Mrs. Shin, the housekeeper, on her way to inform my father and grandmother of my arrival.
She’s left the front door open. I unstrap my heels in the foyer, wincing at the red lines indented into my ankles, and toe on the house slippers Mrs. Shin has left out for me.
My father and grandmother are waiting in the dining room, which is the largest room of the mansion, with the highest ceilings. The whole room echoes with the soft sliding sounds of my slippers.
I bow upon entering. When I raise my head, I’m surprised to see they have another guest.
“Eomma?”
“Sori?” She’s as shocked to see me. “What are you doing here?”
“She came to visit her father and grandmother. Is that not allowed?” Halmeoni’s sharp voice rings across the room.
“My apologies, Eomeoni,” my mother says, quietly.
I sit gingerly beside my mother, facing my father and grandmother.
Brunch is hansik served in beautiful ceramic dishware—dozens of small dishes arranged neatly on the table by Mrs. Shin and her assistant.
The food is exquisite, prepared as it is by my grandmother’s cook. I would enjoy the meal more if it weren’t for the awkward atmosphere making it difficult to swallow.
“Apologies for bringing this up again,” my mother says, and I realize I must have interrupted her with my arrival. “I would only borrow the money for a short period of time. I would return it as early as next month.”
I keep my expression neutral. She’s here for money?
“Haven’t you taken enough from my son?” Halmeoni says, her voice echoing off the walls. “You have no shame. It’s because you didn’t have parents to raise you. It doesn’t matter that your aunt is a person of consequence. She never adopted you. Orphans never learn humility.”
“Eomeoni,” my father chides affectionately. “Let’s not squabble among family.”
“Family?” she scoffs.
“Yes, my family,” my father says, and his eyes land briefly on me, before narrowing on my mother. “Sori-eomma, I understand what you’re asking. I’ll of course lend you the money.”
“You’ll have to sign a contract.” Halmeoni sniffs. “And there will be interest. He can’t just give it to you.”
“Yes, Eomeoni,” my mother says, lowering her eyes. “Sori-abeoji,” she says, turning to my father. “Can I speak with you in private?”
“Why? So you can make threats?” Halmeoni accuses.
My father ignores my grandmother, pushing back his chair and rising from the table. Together, my parents head toward my father’s office at the other end of the house.
A few minutes later, I excuse myself from the table, saying I need to use the restroom.
My mother’s voice trails from my father’s office, the door cracked open a sliver. “Sori-appa, Kyung-mo-yah . . . I don’t ask you for many things.”
“And yet you do ask. It’s, honestly, shameful. If you were better educated, had a better upbringing, you would know this.”
If my mother takes offense to these insults, her calm voice doesn’t show it. “If you’re selling your shares to KS, then the money I’m borrowing to save Joah won’t matter.”
“I haven’t decided yet. The decisions I make aren’t just for me. I have more people to consider than only myself. My role in our government is not a hobby. Please understand that if I do sell the shares, it’s nothing personal against you.”
I quietly return to the dining table. I’m sitting there when my mother passes through a few minutes later. She bows to Halmeoni. “I’m leaving, Eomeoni. Please stay healthy.”
“Ungrateful child.” Halmeoni clicks her tongue.
I follow my mother outside, where she’s stopped on the stone pathway.
“Eomma?”
She turns back to look at me, and my heart drops at the sight of tears in her eyes. She quickly wipes them away. “The wind,” she says weakly. “It’s strong here.”
“You could have told me you wanted to visit your grandmother,” she says. “I would have sent a car. I can wait for you now . . .”
I can’t tell her the real reason I came here today. “No, I’m fine.”
I know she’s stayed in this marriage because of the shares, but I wonder if it’s worth it. How can she endure such cruelty from them?
“Family can be difficult, can’t they?” she says, a soft sigh in her voice. “But it’s good to have family. It’s hard to be alone in this world.”
After my mother leaves, I look for my father, finding him still in his office, smoking a cigarette by the open window.
“About your shares of Joah,” I begin. “I want them. As my inheritance.”
His expression doesn’t change except for an infinitesimal lifting of his brow.
“I’ll do whatever it takes.” To save Joah. To save my mother.
“CEO Cha’s nephew,” he says, blowing out a long stream of smoke. “He’s still asking about you.”
I close my heart to Nathaniel. He can’t help me now.
“I’ll meet with him,” I say. My father won’t sell his shares to KS, not if he’s giving them to me.
“I’ll have Secretary Lee send over his information.”
My father walks me outside the gate, where Secretary Lee waits to drive me back to Seoul. “I’d say you’re like your mother, but you’re much smarter, Sori,” my father says. “You know how to make the right deals. No . . .” I look up to find him studying me, a calculating look in his eye. “You’re much more like me.”
In the back seat of the car, I text Hyemi again. Are you okay? Please answer. I’m worried.
Nathaniel still hasn’t responded, but that’s not surprising. My phone pings with a message from Secretary Lee, containing details about CEO Cha’s nephew. I plug in Cha Donghyun’s number. Donghyun-ssi, I write, this is Min Sori. My father gave me your number. I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’m interested in meeting you. I feel numb, my heart like ice.
Three minutes later, I receive a response. I didn’t think you’d reach out. I’m so happy, Sori-ssi. Are you free Wednesday?
Wednesday is the launch of Nathaniel’s song.
I text back, I’m free.
“We’re back with our guests, Tsukumori Rina, Lee Byeol, and the trendy model turned variety show queen, Min Sori, who also made an appearance on last night’s episode of The Sea Prince!”
Byeol sniffs. Sun’s drama has overtaken Springtime Blossom as the show with the highest number of viewers in their shared timeslot.
The recording proceeds very much like the previous episode, with the three of us answering a question from a caller. This time, it’s a boy asking advice on how he should confess to his older sister’s best friend, who’s a grade above him. Rina and Byeol squeal at the forbidden love—an older girl, his sister’s best friend!
I’d also be caught up in the romance except that the numbness from before persists. It’s like I’m seeing and hearing everything from underwater.
“And now for the game portion of our episode,” Woori exclaims excitedly. “Like our previous episode, each contestant will call the most famous person in their phone!”
“It’s no question who you should call, Sori-ssi,” Woogi says, skipping the other guests entirely.
It takes me a full minute to realize what he’s saying. He means Nathaniel.
It never occurred to me that they might have decided to have a follow-up episode for this reason alone, to take advantage of Nathaniel’s and my newfound popularity as a variety show couple.
“Won’t her boyfriend be jealous?” Lee Byeol quips, referring to my “Boyfriend” from the previous episode.
They hook up my phone, which luckily blocks the actual number, otherwise they might recognize it.
Am I really about to fake a fake relationship with Nathaniel?
The phone rings and rings and rings.
Then there’s an audible click and an automated voice message plays, the same that had played earlier when I’d called Hyemi.
I’m too weary to feel embarrassed. I’m also slightly relieved. Nathaniel and I haven’t spoken since our fight, and I don’t know if I want the first time to be on a public radio show.
“I can call someone!” Byeol say brightly. She calls the same costar from before, but now they’re clearly on more friendly terms, as they speak casually, in banmal.
The producer ducks his head into the recording studio, waving his hands to get Woori’s attention. “Min Sori is receiving a call from Nathaniel Lee,” he hisses.
“Oh! Get him on the line!”
Byeol’s costar is summarily shoved off the call.
Why is Nathaniel calling back when he hadn’t responded to my messages?
“Nathaniel-ssi?” Woogi says, “This is Woogi from The Woori and Woogi Show. I’m here with one of our guests, Min Sori. Do you have time to play a short game with her?”
There’s a loud metallic sound, then someone’s voice in the background—a girl’s voice. My heart staggers. He’s with someone. A girl.
“Sorry,” he says. He’s slightly out of breath. “What did you say?”
“This is Woogi from The Woori and Woogi Show. I’m with Min Sori. The challenge was to call someone—”
“Where are you, Nathaniel-ssi?” Woori interrupts.
“I’m at a batting cage.”
“It sounds like you’re with someone.”
“Just some friends.”
“Don’t say that, Nathaniel-ssi,” Woori croons. “You’ll hurt Sori-ssi’s feelings.”
“Oh no, please,” I say, waving my hands in the air. I’m relieved that Nathaniel can’t see my face, which is most definitely red.
“You can come, Sori,” Nathaniel says. His voice has gotten clearer, as if he’s moved away from where he was before. “I’ll wait for you.”
Rina squeals. Byeol’s eyes dart to me, a questioning look in her eyes.
My cheeks grow hot. I know he’s just play-acting for the show. On the TV monitor, I can see the total of live listeners practically double in number.
“The game is simple,” Woogi explains. “We’re going to ask Sori whether she likes or dislikes something. She’ll hold up an X for disliking or an O for liking, which those watching the video feed will be able to see.” I have small paddles painted with the letters in front of me. “You have to match her two out of three times to win ₩1000000 to a charity of her choice. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Nathaniel says.
“Okay. Sori-ssi, hold up whether you like or dislike . . .”
“Grapefruit,” Woori says.
I immediately hold up a red X.
“Dislike,” Nathaniel says, after a brief pause. “Sori loves grapes, but she hates grapefruit.”
“You know her so well! How long have you known Nathaniel, Sori-ssi?”
“For almost six years,” I say softly.
“That’s a long time. You two must be close.”
“Nathaniel helped me with a lot of troubles when I was in middle school. Because of that, he will always be a good friend to me.”
I wish I could see Nathaniel’s expression. He’s silent on the other end of the line.
“Okay, next question. Sori-ssi, hold up whether you like or dislike . . .”
“Snakes.”
Byeol and Rina shiver.
“Like,” Nathaniel says, at the same time I hold up the O sign. “Sori likes all animals.”
“This is revealing a lot about your relationship, Sori-ssi,” Woogi says. “Are you sure you’re not more than friends?” He laughs, clearly meaning for his words to be a jest.
“Last question. You already won the donation of ₩1000000, so this bonus round is for an extra ₩500000 toward a charity of Nathaniel’s choice. Sori-ssi, hold up whether you like or dislike . . .”
“Nathaniel Lee of XOXO,” Woogi finishes.
“You should clarify, Oppa,” Woori scolds. “She just admitted that they’ve been friends for six years. Of course she likes him.”
Woogi clears his throat. “Let me rephrase, do you have feelings that are more than friendship for Nathaniel Lee of XOXO?”
Yes, I want to answer.
Before I can, Nathaniel says, “I’ll donate ₩500000 of my own.”
“You don’t want her to answer?”
“I know the answer.”
The guests, and the hosts, swoon.
“Thank you so much for playing with us, Nathaniel-ssi! Do you have anything you want to say to Sori-ssi before you go?”
“Nathaniel!” It’s that voice again. “Who are you talking to?” the girl says in English. “It’s your turn at bat!”
“I have to go,” Nathaniel says. “Thanks for having me.” The phone line goes dead.
“Oppa, is it just me, or do you have a feeling of déjà vu?” Woori asks.
“I feel it too, Woori. Nathaniel-ssi sounds similar to your ex-boyfriend, doesn’t he, Sori-ssi? Maybe it’s that they have similar personalities?”
I’m barely listening to what they’re saying, a keening in my ears.
I recognized that voice. Hyemi.