I'm an Unknown Actress, But Everyone Knows Me

* * *

It felt as though rough waves were crashing over his entire body. His heart kept slamming against his ribs. Beneath a pitch-black sky where he couldn’t see even an inch ahead, carrying the dark, heaving sea in his chest, the boy walked forward without direction.

Clink. Clink.

The metal necklace tucked into his shirt pocket scraped against his chest.

He wanted to grab anyone and ask—do you know where she went?

But if they asked who she was, what would he say? There wasn’t much he could claim to know.

She had a beautiful smile.

She always greeted first, and because she was short, she stood on tiptoe often. Her hands were cold and soft, and so light that it felt like he could carry her on his back all day without getting tired.

Her name is Huijae.

I don’t know her family name. I don’t know even that one thing.

And—

And....

I like her.

The seawater that had battered his entire body finally rose into the boy’s eyes. It streamed down his chin in steady lines.

His feet kept moving forward. Then they began to run.

He swam and swam and tried to keep swimming, but it was useless. Like someone drowning in the deep sea, Taeseok staggered.

The place he reached was the mountain where he had once been with the girl. The first world they had stepped out into together.

There was nothing there. Just a barren mountain and the sound of crickets crying. Taeseok’s chest heaved. His eyes, staring blankly ahead, reddened.

No matter how long I wait now, you won’t be here.

Between the beautiful night sky, a few fireflies revealed themselves.

Don’t lose me.

In the stillness, it felt like he could hear Huijae’s voice.

You fool, fool, fool, foolish girl. You can’t even tell the difference between forgetting and losing. You have to have something first in order to lose it....

He wanted to shout that.

His mouth kept burning. He wanted to pour out the words he had saved for a lifetime. Was it resentment? Was it anger?

No.

It was none of those.

“Gi Taeseok!”

If I’d known it would end like this, I would have called your name.

“My name is Huijae.”

I should have called your name at least once too.

“...Hhk....”

A suppressed groan slipped through the boy’s teeth. His vision blurred. Strength drained from his entire body.

Placing his hands on his knees, Taeseok struggled not to collapse. Tears fell in droplets onto the blades of grass.

The only thing he wanted to spill was his feelings for the girl. A shabby, honest heart he would never get to deliver.

“...Huijae.”

Your name I can no longer call.

“Huijae....”

The name he had written over and over in his heart because it felt too precious to say aloud.

“Huijae.... Huijae, Huijae...!”

On the empty forest path, Taeseok called the girl’s name. It was a cry filled with pain, like confessing a sin.

Staggering, he forced himself to stand and called her name again. It echoed and echoed, the name reaching his ears again, and again, and again.

“...Huijae....”

But no answer returned.

Taeseok lifted his right hand and covered his eyes. He didn’t want to see anything. He didn’t want to accept a world without her. His clenched jaw trembled.

The hand that Huijae had written her name on. The hand that had hooked pinkies with hers to make a promise. Beneath that hand that had waved goodbye—hot tears gathered.

“Huijae...!”

As the boy cried out loud, the music of the music box he had once heard drifted down again. It was the melody that had played when the girl wrote her name on his palm.

The beautiful tune that had felt like sunlight rolling across clear glass beads blended with his sorrowful sobs.

In the forest bright only with moonlight, beneath the large hand covering his eyes, seawater flowed endlessly down the boy’s cheeks on that lonely night.

Tiny fireflies gathered their strength and shone brightly beside him. Like the nameless thing the girl had once spoken of, they lit up the dark sky, sparkling and bright.

This was their forever farewell.

* * *

The harsh winter passed, and spring came.

The boy remained in Jinhae. The girl lived in Seoul. Each continued their own life.

The boy who silently carried loads no longer held the world in his eyes, and the girl’s face no longer carried a smile.

The back seat of the bicycle left in the worn, crude harbor was stained with time. It stood in contrast to a polished luxury automobile.

Huijae, wearing a white cape, now lived not in a traditional house but in a Western-style home. As always, she looked into the mirror inside her ornate room and applied rouge to her lips.

Click.

Hanamura entered without knocking and barked at her with a deliberately stern expression.

“Today is important. Behave properly.”

“Yes.”

“If you so much as attempt any foolishness, think carefully about what will happen to the Joseon people you used to associate with.”

Gripping Huijae’s shoulders firmly and repeating himself several times, Hanamura looked at his daughter—blooming like a Pear blossom.

It was the gaze of a greedy merchant.

“We apologize for making you wait.”

Hanamura approached the two men seated with a genial smile. One was a middle-aged gentleman, the other a man about Huijae’s age.

“Not at all. The reception room is so elegant that my eyes are enjoying a feast.”

“I appreciate you saying so. Mister Lee, this is my daughter.”

Hanamura revealed the daughter he had kept hidden behind his back. The man who had been quietly drinking tea stirred at the sight of her face, pale as a freshly bloomed Pear blossom.

“I had only heard about her, but she truly possesses extraordinary beauty. Isn’t that right, Taejin?”

“...Yes....”

The calm, quiet man’s gaze remained on Huijae. Huijae kept her eyes lowered, meeting no one’s gaze.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I have practically lived in America, so my Joseon speech may be clumsy. I ask for your generous understanding.”

The man rose to his feet. He was tall—taller even than Taeseok.

“You may call me Robert, or you may call ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) me Taejin. Tae as in joy, Jin as in advance. May I ask your name, miss?”

“Hanamura Rio.”

Huijae spoke for the first time. The gentle man’s face brightened as if that alone pleased him.

“Yes. If it would not be rude, may I also ask your Joseon name?”

At that, Hanamura flustered. If he said he had never even given her a Joseon name, it would surely seem strange.

Rio had value only as a carefully cultivated greenhouse flower. She had to appear treasured to command the proper price....

Just as Hanamura’s mouth opened hurriedly—

“Huijae.”

“I see. A lovely name. Its meaning is....”

“It means joy and existence! Hui for joy, Jae for existence! With my family name, it is Yeon Huijae. Ha ha ha.”

Hanamura cut in before Huijae could speak. Huijae bit her lip briefly.

“Yes. Miss Huijae. If it is not improper, would you allow me the pleasure of seeing the garden?”

The gentle man asked, looking at Huijae. She still did not meet his eyes.

Her own will did not matter anyway. She had to move according to Hanamura’s intentions.

Huijae, a flower blooming in a greenhouse, existed only to be plucked at whim, placed in a beautiful vase, and satisfy the eyes of those who looked at her.

“Of course, by all means! Huijae. Go and entertain Taejin.”

Hanamura’s palm settled on Huijae’s shoulder. The firm squeeze carried meaning.

Think of the Joseon people.

* * *

“These are roses imported from France. Isn’t the blush color beautiful?”

Huijae introduced the garden to Taejin in a flat voice.

Her Joseon speech was no longer clumsy. Locked alone in her room, studying the language had been the only thing she could do.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Taejin admired the rose vines, each petal glossy. Then he turned his gaze back to Huijae. His dark-brown suit was refined.

“Would it be indulgent of me to pluck one for the lady?”

His smiling voice resembled sunlight. Huijae quietly shook her head.

“If you wish, of course.”

Taejin carefully snapped a blush-colored rose. With neat fingers, he meticulously removed the thorns and offered the flower to Huijae.

A splendid, beautiful, expensive flower.

“Would you tell me your name once more?”

“My name is Yeon Huijae.”

“If you would grant me the true meaning, I would want for nothing more.”

At those words, Huijae met his eyes for the first time.

“Allow me to introduce myself again. I am Lee Taejin—Tae for joy, Jin for advance. And your name, miss?”

Taejin knew. From the first moment he met her, he had tried to remember everything about Huijae.

The way she bit her lip slightly. The loneliness tinged with familiar resignation—he wanted to erase it with his own hand.

Spring sunlight shone brightly over the beautiful lady’s head. Shadows gathered at the tips of her long eyelashes.

A faint smile appeared on her otherwise expressionless face.

“...Hui for joy, Jae for existence. Huijae.”

“A truly beautiful name, Miss Huijae.”

Huijae looked down at the rose in her hand, suddenly awkward. Come to think of it, this was only the second time she had introduced herself like this.

No one had ever asked her name.

“I. Gi Taeseok. You? What. Name. What is it.”

Except for one boy.

“My name is Huijae.”

She hadn’t even told him the meaning properly. Hui for joy, Jae for existence. She should have told him—Yeon Huijae. What if he forgets me? Huijae fiddled absently with the rose in her hand when a polished shoe stepped close to her feet.

“It is truly a pleasure to meet you.”

A hand was extended. Large, firm, flawless fingers. Completely different from the boy’s hand....

The hand of the man who would become her husband.

Huijae quietly took that hand. Lips brushed gently against the back of hers.

She remembered the day she had stood on tiptoe atop the wall, hooking pinkies to make a promise. The moment their thumbs had touched like a kiss.

Even now, out of habit, the girl thought of the boy.

Like flower dye that never fades, the color had seeped in forever.

* * *

“The North Korean army has crossed the 38th parallel and launched an invasion. This is a clear act of aggression. The government strongly condemns this action and asks all citizens to remain calm and follow government instructions.”

War broke out.

The sound of parents crying as they sent their sons to the battlefield echoed endlessly through Jinhae. People who had to part for life were split apart, and split apart again.

Among them, only Taeseok, following the soldiers quietly, wore a face without much lingering attachment.

Loaded into a jeep and carried toward an unknown destination, Taeseok touched the necklace hanging around his neck. He couldn’t bring himself to open it. It was simply habit. A habit ingrained into his body, one that would not be corrected.

Boom-.

The sound of artillery echoed in the distance.

“Citizens, Seoul is currently conducting a temporary tactical withdrawal, and the armed forces are establishing a strong defensive line south of the Han River.”

Taeseok listened to the radio inside a blotched military barracks. The issued uniform was not much different from the worn clothes he used to wear.

“The government is maintaining order to the utmost, and evacuees are requested to follow instructions.”

A voice passing by the barracks pierced his ears.

“I’m telling you, it’s real. The Han River bridges are all blown.”

Taeseok, who had been sitting apart from everyone else, shot to his feet. Without hesitation, he went straight outside.

“What do you mean?”

“Seoul’s a wreck right now!”

“What nonsense.... The President, the President’s there—how could it be a wreck? Speak some sense!”

“You heard the bombs yesterday, didn’t you? That was the Han River bridges collapsing!”

“We will continue to update you as the situation in Seoul stabilizes.”

It’s a lie....

Taeseok grabbed the man’s collar roughly.

That can’t be.

“There’s nothing about that on the radio! What do you know!”

“I’ve got relatives in Daejeon! People coming from Seoul say the Han River bridges are all destroyed, so what then!”

That can’t happen.

“Hey! What time do you think this is to be fighting!”

A soldier blowing a whistle approached from afar and tried to pull Taeseok back.

Hands grabbed his arms, his shoulders, the back of his neck, trying to restrain him—but Taeseok’s grip did not loosen.

As if that collar were a lifeline.

As if he refused to let go of the hope that Huijae was alive.

“How does that make sense! The President’s in Seoul! Why would the Han River bridges be blown up!”

Taeseok shouted, eyes red.