Page 46 of From Paris to Seoul

“I’m… okay. There’s just a lot on my mind lately.”

I clutched her arm as we crossed the zebra crossing near Konkuk University.

“Not enjoying your new unemployed life?”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” I let out a dry laugh. “But I think it’s in our nature as Koreans to feel restless when we’re not working. I mean… I’m lucky—I don’t have to pay rent, and I still have some savings, so unemployment isn’t the end of the world for me.”

We stepped into a cosmetics store. A few people glanced in my direction, curiosity flickering in their eyes, but nothing more. Ah, the perks of being a minor actress.

“Yeah, and you’re from achaebolfamily. You don’t need to earn a salary like us normal people,” Ji-a said offhandedly, swiping a lip gloss across the back of her hand. “What do you think of this color?”

I shook my head—both at the shade and at her comment about my family.

Yes, we lived comfortably, but our wealth is nothing compared to other conglomerate families. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder… would they cut me off if I chose to be with Baekhyun?

Just like they did with Uncle Suk-jin?

Baekhyun.

His name had basically becomeHe-Who-Must-Not-Be-Namedin my mind—the one thing I kept telling myselfnotto think about, which, of course, only made me think about him even more.

It had been a few weeks, and he still hadn’t contacted me. At first, there was still hope. But now? I just felt hopeless.

So… this is it, right? Game over?

I should just move on. Bury our memories. Pretend it never happened.

But my brain refused to cooperate. I still found myself wondering what he was doing. If he was okay. If he ever thought about me, too.

“By the way… I haven’t told youeverythingabout Paris,” I murmured, running my fingers over a row of blush compacts, desperately trying to bring him back into the conversation.

Ji-a turned to me, intrigued.

I hesitated, unsure if this was the right place for it—but honestly, I just needed to say his name out loud. “Do you remember Yang Baekhyun fromPrincess of Cosmos?”

She frowned, caught off guard by the random mention. “Yeah?”

“Well… we met in Paris. Completely by chance. And… I ended up spending some time with him.”

Ji-a’s eyes widened, almost cartoonishly round. “Wait, you mean like… coffee-and-casual-small-talk spending time? Or…?”

I gave a small nod, confirming what she wasn’t saying. “Yeah.Or.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth—whether in panic or excitement, I wasn’t sure—before smacking my arm with a series of small punches. “What?! How?! And you’ve waitedthis longto tell me?!”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing her wrist and pulling her out of the cosmetics store. “Come on, let’s go somewhere less crowded.”

Once we were seated at a small café, I stirred my drink, debating how much to say. A part of me wanted to relive every moment with Baekhyun, to spill everything. But another part wondered—was there even a point?

“Yeah, so… he originally went to Paris with his girlfriend. By pure chance, we ran into each other at Opéra de Paris. Then they broke up,” I shrugged. “And… yeah.” I trailed off, unsure how much more I should say.

Ji-a squealed, hitting my arm again, unable to contain herself. “So?! What happened next? Where is he now?”

I brushed my arms, pretty sure I’d have bruises by now, but before I could get a word in, Ji-a was already diving into another round of interrogation.

“Oh, I always liked him… You two had such great chemistry on set! And I got the feeling he’s not just a pretty boy—though, let’s be real,that face.” She fanned herself dramatically. “The thick brows, the sharp jawline… Sure, he’s a model, but there’s something else about him. Something… different.” Then, with a frown, she added, “And he’ssomuch better than that jerk ex of yours.”

Her words came like tiny pinches, each one poking at something I was trying to ignore.

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