Page 16 of From Paris to Seoul

“Oh, so that’s why there are so many perfume brands here,” I joked. Seo-yeon chuckled quietly.

Maybe we had more in common than I thought.

The castle was stunning, and through its grand windows, we could see the enchanting garden, complete with an enormous fountain that only flowed in spring and summer.

Before we knew it, the afternoon had slipped away, and we were ushered outside the castle.

“I’m starving,” I said, rubbing my stomach as we stepped into the courtyard.

“Let’s have dinner in Paris! I know a few places,” Seo-yeon exclaimed enthusiastically.

This is it—the moment of truth. Is she about to take me to some ultra-luxurious, five-course restaurant? One of those places where the wine and champagne list costs more than my monthly salary?

“Ah, but what do you feel like eating tonight? Something light? Or something hearty?”

Her question threw me off for a second. It was nice that she was asking. A simple gesture, something any decent person would do—but after being dragged around by Sun-hee without a say, it felt oddly refreshing.

“Tteokbokki,” I joked.

“I already miss tteokbokki too!” she said with a dreamy sigh, like she was imagining the spicy, chewy goodness right then and there. Another surprising statement from Princess Seo-yeon.

I let out a hearty laugh. “Jokes aside, I’m good with anything—I’m not picky. But just a heads-up, I’m starving, so I’d prefer a big portion. The other day, we had dinner near the Opéra, and the portions were tiny while the prices were outrageous,” I recounted the unfortunate soirée as we boarded the train back to Paris.

She nodded knowingly. “Of course. If you eat in a touristy area like that, it’s bound to be overpriced, and the food is usually just okay. Same everywhere!”

“That said, I think I know a place in Paris that serves huge portions of local specialties at a reasonable price. Want to go there?” she added.

A big portion of local food at a fair price—did I need any more convincing? Of course not. It was like she had read my mind. I nodded enthusiastically, more than happy with her suggestion.

About an hour later, we arrived at a quaint brasserie downtown—a cozy spot serving French specialties in a relaxed setting. Since it was still early for dinner, we managed to get a table, though a designated queuing area hinted at the usual peak-hour rush.

Scanning the menu, I spotted some intriguing options:Tête de veau… calf’s head.Rognon de bœuf… beef kidney.

“Hmm, yummy, yummy,” I mused, catching Seo-yeon’s expression of equal fascination from the corner of my eye.

“Are you feeling brave tonight?” she whispered.

“I am,” I whispered back conspiratorially. “It’s not that different fromsundaeor pork tripe, right?”

She shrugged. “I think I’ll go with something classic, like steak or rotisserie chicken.”

“Bo-ring…” I teased in a sing-song tone.

For a split second, something shifted in her expression—her eyes flickered, and she glanced down, a small frown forming.

I hesitated. Had I pushed too far? Maybe we weren’t that close yet.

“Ah, but if you’re in the mood for steak, that’s totally fine too,” I added quickly, clearing my throat in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Seo-yeon gave a small, sheepish smile and cleared her throat as well. “Or… maybe I could go for beef tartare,” she murmured, opting for something a little less conventional.

Oh no. Did I ruin everything? We’d had such a good time today—no endless photo-taking, no live-streaming. Just two people, fully present, enjoying Paris together.

The waiter arrived to take our order, and soon after, we sipped our wine in quiet contemplation.

“Actually… the casting director on my last project said I’m plain and boring,” Seo-yeon finally admitted after a long pause. “And after that comment, plus my breakup with my long-term boyfriend, I ran away to Paris…”

I stared at her, stunned. “You? Plain and boring?” My voice almost rose in disbelief. “Seo-yeon, you’re incredibly talented. You memorize lines effortlessly, you have this natural grace, and your eyes—there’s so much warmth in them. How could anyone look at you and think that?”

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