by Jessica Jung
* * *
“I’m pretty sure we’re lost.”
I look down at the business card Yujin gave me. Akari and I have been wandering around the same street in Itaewon for the past twenty minutes, but this address is nowhere to be found. We’ve walked by the same dak-galbi restaurant so many times that people sitting inside have started looking at us suspiciously through the window.
“Let’s try walking that way one more time,” Akari says. She adjusts the collar on her flowy, off-the-shoulder yellow top, and I can see that the back of her neck is turning pink and sweaty the way it does when she gets flustered. “We didn’t look behind that Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, did we?”
“Only about six times,” I say. I blow a strand of hair out of my face and sigh, zooming in on my Naver Maps app. “I don’t get it. It should be right here.”
“Oh my god,” Akari says.
“I know, right? I don’t even know what we’re looking for!”
“No, not that!” Akari grabs my arm, dragging me behind a row of parked motorbikes. She points across the street, where a bearded man with broad shoulders and a stubby ponytail has just stepped out of a squat little brown building with a scratched-up steel door. He slides on a pair of sunglasses and a knit cap that pulls down over his forehead. “It’s Han Minkyu from Oh My Dreams,” Akari squeaks out, aghast.
I stare at her blankly. I haven’t really had much time for K-dramas the past six years.
“You know. He’s the one who kidnapped Park Dohee after she lost her memory falling off her lover’s motorcycle. He pretended to be her doctor to sneak into her hospital room. Rachel, he made her believe that she was in love with him the whole time!” Her forehead creases with worry. “We’d better hide. Who knows what he’s capable of? He could kidnap us right now if he wanted to.”
“Um, Akari, that’s just his character. You know he’s probably not a kidnapping memory hacker in real life.”
“Oh. Right.” Akari pauses, narrowing her eyes in his direction as he disappears down the alley. “Still. I don’t trust him.”
I glance over at the building. It’s nothing remarkable—I hadn’t even noticed it before: all the windows are tinted so you can’t see in from the outside, and the walls are desperately in need of a new paint job. But maybe…
Curious, I gesture for Akari to follow me.
I pull on the handle and the door swings open smoothly, revealing a tiny, wood-paneled hallway. We step inside, and the door slams shut behind us. Akari looks at me, face pale. “You want to rethink what you said about us not being kidnapped today?” I shush her, straining my ears.
“Do you hear that?” I ask.
“The sound of our imminent death? Why yes, I do,” Akari whispers dramatically.
“No, you dork. It’s music.”
The hallway ends in a thick velvet curtain. I can hear music pouring through from the other side. I turn to Akari. “Ready?”
She looks around nervously. “No?”
I laugh and take her hand, pulling her through the curtain to the other side.
Around us the walls burst to life with ethereal images of gardens that look plucked straight from the French countryside. Above us, pink and purple wisteria vines sweep across the ceiling, hanging heavily from an angular chandelier, all gold and milk glass. The room is filled with people seated in plush jewel-toned booths, chatting and listening to a man playing jazz tunes on the piano atop an impressive stage that covers the right side of the room. The entire place smells like a mix of baked croissants and rose petals. I glance down at the table near me to see a woman sipping her drink with a latte art swan so delicate and perfect that I feel like it might stretch its wings and fly straight out of the mug.
Holy shit. What is this place?
A voice calls out, “Rachel! Akari!” breaking me out of my trance. Yujin rushes toward us, her pink hair and dangly bronze earrings flying in a wave behind her. She puts an arm around both of our shoulders, beaming. “It’s about time you got here. Welcome to Kwangtaek.”
“Where are we?” Akari asks. “Also, do you know Han Minkyu?”
“I could tell you,” Yujin says, laughing, as she guides us across the room. “But I think I know someone who would do a better job.”
She stops in front of a cozy corner booth where a vaguely familiar older woman is already sitting, drinking from a porcelain tea set. She looks like she’s stepped straight out of a 1940s Hollywood movie, with her silver hair swept up in an old-school glamorous updo and the most luxurious embroidered silk shawl I’ve ever seen draped casually over her shoulders.
“Rachel, Akari, meet my mother,” Yujin says, sliding into the booth next to the woman. “Chung Yuna.”
Chung Yuna? Did Yujin just say her mother is Chung Yuna?
Next to me I hear Akari gasp. “You’re the Chung Yuna?” Akari says. She turns to face Yujin. “Ooh-ahh, Unni, how come you never told us that your mom is the OG K-pop star?!”
I can’t believe this. Chung Yuna is truly a legend. Before her, K-pop music didn’t even exist. Now, forty years after she retired, everyone still knows her name—and loves her. Electric Flower even did a twenty-minute homage to some of her biggest hits during their last world tour.
I immediately straighten my back and bow at a ninety-degree angle. “Ahnyounghasaeyo.”
Akari quickly follows suit. Yuna pats the seat next to her. “Ayy, that was a long time ago. I leave the K-pop to girls like you now.”
Yujin grins. “You two look like a pair of fish. Close your mouths before you catch some flies.”
I force my mouth closed and smile as calmly as I can, even though this is all blowing my mind. “So, where exactly are we right now?” I glance over at Akari, whose eyes still look like they might pop out of her head.
“Kwangtaek is an underground café I started for the celebrities of Korea,” Yuna says, sipping from her teacup. “A place for people to relax and escape from fans and paparazzi, even for just a moment. We didn’t have anything like this when I was in the industry, and I always longed for such a place. And then several years ago, I thought: if I want it so much, why don’t I build it? It took a while to find the perfect location, but this one has been serving us quite well.”
“That’s amazing,” Akari says, her eyes widening even more. “I mean, I’ve heard rumors of a secret café for stars, but I never imagined it was real.”
Yuna chuckles. “It’s real all right. Now, tell me, what do you think of the wisteria vines? I’m wondering if we should go for more of a minimal look.…”
Akari smiles wide as she and Yuna discuss decor. From across the table Yujin takes my hand and stands up. “We’ll be back,” she says. Akari waves her away as Yuna starts in on the pros and cons of crushed versus panne velvet.
“Yujin,” I say as we walk across the café. I try not to stare openly at the celebrities all around me, but—oh my god. Is that Park Dohee sitting over there with Kim Chanwoo? They’re lovers on Oh My Dreams, but from the puppy-dog eyes they’re making at each other over a plate of pastel-colored macarons, it looks like they might be together in real life, too. I look away—after all, they are here to escape all the prying eyes. “How come you didn’t follow in your mom’s footsteps and become a K-pop star? She’s so inspiring!”
“I was inspired by her,” Yujin agrees easily. “But just in a different way. I knew from a young age that I was never meant for the stage. Instead, I wanted to use what I learned from my mom to guide the next generation of stars.” She squeezes my hand. “People meant for the spotlight, like you.”
My heart fills up as I gulp down my nerves. Meant for the spotlight. I squeeze her hand back.
She leads me to a table close to the stage and pulls a chair out for me. I sit, content to let the biggest stars in Korea sip coffee all around me and talk with Yujin, just like the old days (well, if you replace the glitterati of Seoul for a bunch of plants), but there’s one thing I still haven’t figured out.
“Yujin-unni,
this place is really cool. But um…” I lower my voice. “What exactly are we doing here? What about the video?”
Yujin winks. “You’ll see. Let me get you a drink. Be right back.”
She disappears toward the coffee counter by the stage. My hands are beginning to twitch with nerves, so I grab a napkin and start doodling in the corners. What’s Yujin’s plan? Maybe she’s going to have me sing a song to her mom? That would surely go viral. Oh, or maybe she’s getting Dohee and Chanwoo to be in the video? I laugh to myself. Leah’s friends would definitely be impressed then. When I’ve filled the napkin with weird little curlicues and flowers, I push it aside and fiddle with the teaspoon on the table and sigh. What’s taking Yujin so long?
I glance around the room, looking for her, and see Dohee and Chanwoo sitting at their table, lips locked. Ah-ssa! They are together! Leah is going to freak when she hears this. I’m so absorbed in my thoughts, I flip the spoon smack into the middle of my face.
“Ouch!” I rub my nose, glancing around to see if anyone saw that. Luckily, I’m not high on a priority people-watching list at a place like this. I breathe a sigh of relief and settle back in my chair.
“Wow… that looked like it hurt.”
Seven
Jason pulls out the chair next to mine and takes a seat. The sleeves of his sweater are rolled up to his elbows, and I can’t help but notice how nice his arms are. Tanned and lean and surprisingly smooth. And strong. I gulp as I flash back to him putting his arm around me at the end of my audition. Right before I uploaded a night’s worth of soju and champagne onto his shoes.
My cheeks light up at the memory of it all. “What are you doing here?” I sputter. Must regain composure.
“You’re the one sitting at my regular table,” he says. His eyes crinkle as he leans forward, putting his mouth right next to my ear and whispering, “Let me guess. You’re stalking me.”
I force out a small laugh. This whole thing may be about getting this duet with Jason, but there’s no need to inflate his ego any further. He already has the DB rumor mill for that.
He sits back and smirks. “I think I make you nervous.”
My face is blazing. “Nope,” I say a little too forcefully. “I think you’re delusional.”
“Really? Because your face is turning red.” He presses one of his hands against my cheek. “Warm, too.”
I swat his hand away. “Excuse you. I don’t remember saying you could touch me.”
He holds his hands up, resigned. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling okay.… We don’t want anyone getting sick in Chung Yuna’s fine establishment. It would chase all the K-drama actors away.” He lowers his voice into a stage whisper as he waves across the room at Dohee and Chanwoo. “They’re notoriously weak-stomached.”
Just then, a waitress arrives at our table, carrying a platter filled with two steaming coffees and pastries. Jason flashes his perfect smile at her as he reaches for the coffee. “Wonderful timing. How’d you know this was exactly what I needed?”
She giggles, bowing her head once before skittering away. Seriously, is there anyone he doesn’t charm?
“I forgive you, by the way,” Jason says to me as he dumps half the sugar bowl into his coffee. “For the puking.”
I look over at him nervously.
“I mean, I had to throw away my favorite sneakers, but other than that…” He grins, flashing his perfect smile in my direction now.
I feel my stomach swoop in response, but I force myself to ignore it, instead rolling my eyes at him. “Thanks. Glad to know someone is laughing about the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.”
His face falls a little and he grits his teeth. “Okay, okay! I was kidding about the shoes. But seriously. I know how nerve-racking those DB auditions can be. I’ve been there.”
If only nerves had been the problem. But I can tell he means it this time. I give a small nod. “Thanks. For real.”
He smiles, draining the entire jug of cream into his cup until it’s completely empty. He shakes out the final few drops and then gives me an apologetic frown. “Sorry. Did you want some of this?”
“It’s okay. I like my coffee black.” I wrinkle my nose at his caramel-colored drink. “And you obviously prefer your coffee to taste like a milkshake.”
“What can I say? I have a sweet tooth.” He winks, sipping his abomination of a drink. We sit in a beat of silence. It’s not exactly awkward, but it’s not comfortable, either. The whole viral video plan is sitting heavily in my mind. What the hell is Yujin up to?
“So, Rachel, tell me,” Jason says, reaching for a pastry. “Other than being a pajama fashion icon and a raging coffee snob, what else should I know about you?”
My mind races around for something to say. I’m a K-pop trainee? But he already knows that. I’ll do anything to debut? But he’s already done that. I’m here to make a video in the hopes that it will go viral, everyone will see how much better my voice is than Mina’s, and Mr. Noh and the DB execs will see it and give me another chance at singing the duet with you? But I clearly can’t tell him that. Luckily, at that moment, the waitress makes another appearance, setting a small white tray on the table. A smile spreads across Jason’s face. “You’ll love this—it’s Yuna’s most famous dessert.” He grabs a small bowl on the side of the tray and begins to pour melted milk chocolate over the clear, spun-sugar orb in the center, which looks filled with strawberries and edible flowers. The orb melts, its contents bursting over layers of blackberry panna cotta and gingerbread crumble. Um, wow.
“This really beats the last dessert I had,” I mumble to Jason through a mouthful of chocolate and strawberries. “My mom brought home pastries and I grabbed one, thinking it was fruit or something—but really it was sausage! With corn! And some kind of weird sugary sauce.”
“Sausage bread masquerading as a normal pastry,” Jason says, dropping his spoon. He shakes his head in disappointment. “The worst.”
“Why do Koreans have to put hot dogs in everything?” I say, scooping up another spoonful of creamy panna cotta.
“And cheese,” Jason adds. “They love adding cheese to everything. Cheese ramyun.”
“Cheese kimbap.”
“Cheese dak-galbi.”
“Cheese sausage.”
He laughs. “Can you add extra cheese sausage to your cheese sausage?”
“Of course! This is Korea. You can get a cheese-cheese sausage-sausage.”
We both burst out laughing, and for a second I let everything else melt away. There’s no DB or Mina, no scheming or final chances. It’s like Jason and I are just normal friends with normal lives, drinking coffee and eating fancy desserts. But then the second’s up and my laughter dies. I’m not sure how far DB’s no-dating rule extends, but I’m willing to bet it would frown upon a trainee giggling and eating pastries with a DB superstar. I look away, self-conscious, reaching up to wipe the sweet sauce from my mouth with my napkin.
Before I realize what he’s doing, he reaches out and grabs my wrist. I freeze, my eyes flicking to his. He’s looking at my lips. Oh my god. Is he going to…? But he can’t!
“What’s that on your napkin?”
Huh? He tugs the napkin out of my hand and flattens it against the table. Oh So he definitely wasn’t going to… My cheeks flush.
“That’s nothing,” I say, trying to grab the napkin away. He pulls it out of my reach, and I sigh, giving in. “They’re just doodles. I like to sketch outfits and stuff when I’m bored.”
“Outfits?”
“Yeah, outfits. I grew up in, like, the fashion capital of the world. I was always looking at people’s clothes.”
He says nothing, his eyes skimming over the napkin. I suddenly feel vulnerable, like he’s going through my closet.
“Did you really draw these?” he says. His voice is surprised but not unkind. “They’re good. Really good.”
When he looks at me, his face is open. Genuine.
Maybe even a little impressed. I feel like he’s about to ask me to sketch him or something. Which, no. I swipe the napkin from him and ball it up, swiftly dunking it into his coffee.
His mouth drops open. “You did not just do that.”
“It’s nothing. Just some silly outfits. And that coffee is way too sweet. I’m saving you from getting diabetes.”
He pulls out the sodden napkin with two pinched fingers and groans. “How sad. Perfectly good coffee, ruined by your doodling.” He pauses. “That’s not a bad line, actually.”
I offer him a fresh napkin. “Maybe you should write it down,” I joke. “You know, if DB ever decides to let any of you write your own lyrics.”
I expect him to crack another joke, but his face is serious. He laughs gruffly, dropping the wet napkin on the table. “You don’t know the half of it.”
A dark look crosses his face, one I’ve never seen on him before. All traces of his charming, firecracker energy fade for a moment and his shoulders slump forward, subdued.
“Jason? Are you okay?”
He opens his mouth like he’s about to answer, but before he can, the high-pitched squeal of a microphone interrupts him.
A group of four boys have taken the stage next to the piano. One of them is tapping a mic and grinning directly at us. I recognize him. In fact, I recognize all of them. It’s Jason’s band, NEXT BOYZ, and the guy holding the mic is Minjun. International superstar and the guy who ate fried chicken out of my purse.
“Calling Jason Lee and his lady friend to the stage,” Minjun says, his voice breezy and mischievous as it reverberates around the room. “Café rules. If you want free drinks, you have to sing onstage.”
Everybody cheers. It’s only then that I realize the piano music has stopped and the whole room is buzzing. People are whispering behind cupped hands and shooting curious, starstruck glances in our direction (curious for me, starstruck for Jason, I’m sure), just like I’d been doing earlier with Dohee and Chanwoo. I spot Yujin sitting back in her corner booth with her mom and Akari. She catches my eye and winks.
