Page 7 of From Paris to Seoul

I stepped outside to clear my spinning head, braving the brisk, chilly wind for a breath of fresh air. I walked a bit away from the studio, and before long, I heard some familiar voices.

“I’m so glad we’re done with that scene,” one of them said, followed by a deep breath—like they were about to light up a cigarette.

“Yeah, I’m glad too. But that Seo-yeon, though… she needs to pay for our overtime,” the other voice added with a chuckle.

I realized it was the voice of the PD and the casting director. They must’ve been on a cigarette break.

They were inside the smoking booth, so they couldn’t see me. But if I walked back toward the building, my footsteps would definitely give me away.

I felt a little awkward eavesdropping, but at the same time, I couldn’t help wondering what else they were saying about me.

“Yeah, I don’t know what else to do with her… I mean, isn’t she already in her mid-thirties? But she’s always playing minor roles—second lead, at best. I think that’s about as far as her career’s going to go.”

“You think it’s time for her to go under the knife?”

“Nah,” the casting director said. “She’s not bad-looking. She’s got that natural beauty. But… I don’t know. She’s missing something. Like… she’s just plain and boring.”

The PD chuckled. “Well, then it’s gonna be tough. Not even plastic surgery’s gonna fix that.”

I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming.

Great. Just what I needed to end this awful day.

I’d worked with them for years, even if only in minor roles. I thought they at least respected me as a colleague.

But how could they be so… mean? Being called ‘boring’ had to be the ultimate insult.

The prickling sensation in my eyes threatened tears.

I overheard them gossiping about others, commenting on the acting and appearances of the actors in the drama.

After a while, they finally left, and I had to fight to keep my legs from giving out after crouching behind the bush for so long.

As they walked back into the studio, I considered slipping away without saying goodbye. But I stayed—because that’s what was expected of me, right? The perfect daughter, the perfect girlfriend, the perfect minor actress… even if, in the end, I was just plain and boring.

I straightened up, forced a smile, held my tears at bay, and said my goodbyes to the crew before heading to my car—left by Ji-a this morning—and driving straight to Min-seok’s place.

He’s my boyfriend, and if I can’t find comfort in him, then who else would I turn to?

***

The ride to his place went smoothly, with no traffic jams, in contrast to this morning. I arrived at his parking lot and took a moment to collect myself, taking a few deep breaths. What should I even say to Min-seok?

Maybe I don’t need to say anything at all. Maybe all I need is for him to hold me in his arms and tell me everything will be okay.

I wasn’t even sure if he was home yet. I hesitated for a moment, debating whether I should give him a call, but I remembered he’d given me his spare key card for emergencies.

I’d never come to his place unannounced like this, but whatever—this feels like an emergency to me.

I swiped the card to open the apartment door from the parking lot, then used it again on his front door before typing in the security code.

As I opened the door, I expected him to be surprised (but happy) to see me. At worst, I figured I’d find an empty apartment where I could chill, steal a beer, and cry on his couch.

But instead, I found him on that very couch, straddled by a woman wearing a sheer leopard-patterned cape over provocative lingerie.

He looked surprised, alright.

“Seo-yeon? What… what are you doing here?” Min-seok stammered, pushing the woman off his lap and walking toward the foyer half-naked.

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