Page 44 of From Paris to Seoul

There was a pause. Then—

“Yeah, you’ve told me… but what aboutThe Man from Seoul? Ikindof told them you’re in.” His frustration was obvious.

I exhaled. “I know, but if I take this, I won’t have time for music at all.”

He let out a long breath. “I might know someone,” he said reluctantly. “A friend of mine runs a music studio. He uploads songs to streaming platforms—makes good money from it.”

That caught my interest. “Really?”

“Yeah. He’s always looking for new songwriters. I can ask. You don’t have to be an idol or anything—just put the music out there, and if people like it, you get paid.”

I leaned back in my seat, intrigued. That… actually doesn’t sound impossible.

“Look,” Byung-ho added, “why not just film the drama first? It’s only a few months. Then you can focus on music. Or even work on it while you’re there. We’ll send over your guitar, tambourine, whatever.”

He let the offer hang in the air before adding, “So? Deal?”

I sighed. “Let me think about it.”

A groan came from his end, but I hung up before he could argue.

I stared at my phone.

Japan or music? Acting or creating?

I need to decide.

11

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Seo-yeon

I used to think reinvention was something dramatic—a bold decision, an act of defiance. But in reality, it was quieter, messier—more like fumbling through the dark, searching for a light switch.

It had been weeks since I’d last stood in front of a camera—weeks since I received my dismissal letter, along with a fine from my agency for leaving without notice. No scripts, no rehearsals, no carefully crafted persona to uphold. Just me—free at last.

It should have felt liberating.

Instead, I’m restless.

I’m in a very fortunate situation where I have enough savings to pay the moderate fine, and even though I was let go by my agency, the drama and the fallout were minimal.

But that didn’t change the gnawing sense of aimlessness. With nothing to fill my days, I had too much time to think—to wonder what came next.

“Well, you always loved music,” Yae-rin said one afternoon as we sat in a café inside our family’s company building. She had finally agreed to take a quick break after I had been continuously nagging her about my existential crisis and how unbearably bored I was staying at home.

“Why don’t you do something with that?” she added, slurping her caramel latte.

I stirred my drink absently. “I don’t know. It’s not like I have any experience performing a piano concert.” I sighed. “And I’m too old to go back to school.”

Yae-rin tilted her head, giving me that sharp, older-sister look. “Who said anything about performing or going back to school?” She leaned back, tapping her fingers against her cup. “You could produce your own music, play at soirées or weddings… or even teach piano to kids.”

Teach?

The thought had never even crossed my mind before.

“That’s… not a bad idea,” I admitted slowly.

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