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“You look comfortable,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual.

He smiles crookedly. “I’m guessing your costume is a lot more elaborate than mine.”

“Yes.” I blush, feeling suddenly very naked beneath my robe.

He tilts his head to the side.

I step away from him, feigning like I need to get my makeup touched up. I scurry off toward Soobin and RALA, but not before I see the look of confusion on his face.

My stomach churns with guilt. He’s done nothing wrong.I’mthe one who can’t control my feelings.

“Sori-yah, is something the matter?” Soobin says. “You look a little pale. Is the corset too tight? I can loosen it.” But as she makes the suggestion, I can see her mouth thin in worry; loosening it might cause the whole costume to fall off, the thought of which makes me more panicked than I already am.

“I’m okay. I just have to make it through this one last scene.”

The setup is that Nathaniel’s character comes upon mine taking a dip in the steaming hot water after the bathhouse has closed for the night.

I watch as the crew positions the lights and cameras around the pool, my nerves growing stronger with every minute that passes. The scene at the tidepool hadn’t felt this intimate, maybe because we were outdoors. In this enclosed setting, with all the lights centered on the pool, I’m more exposed.

The director leads me to the edge of the pool. “You’re going to swim around a bit.” He moves his arm in a circular motion. “And then surface near the edge.” He taps his shower slipper by the pool’s edge. “Nathaniel will be waiting for you. After he speaks his line, you’ll relay to him the important message the Sea King has sent you to the human world to deliver.”

I’m nodding along, but frown at this. “But I thought I couldn’t speak.”

He adjusts his sunglasses, which he continues to wear though it’s now evening and we’re inside. “And so, you must relay the message to him in the way of the mermaids. With a kiss.”

I blink at the director, then blink again. “That’s not in the script,” I say.

“Yes,” the director acknowledges. With a checkered handkerchief, he wipes sweat from his brow. “When the scriptwriter discovered the plot hole, she thought of this solution. But only if you’re comfortable...”

My stomach flutters, and I turn to Nathaniel, who’s walking toward me. I expect him to tease, but he’s uncharacteristically shy, scratching at his neck beneath the collar of his shirt. “Do you...? We don’t have to...”

“I think it’s okay,” I say, a little breathless. “For Sun’s show...”

“Okay,” he says. “If at any time you don’t want to...”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Sori-ssi,” the director nods to me, “whenever you’re ready.”

I realize he means for me to disrobe,while everyone’s watching. I take a deep breath, channeling my inner mermaid, or at least actress. The costume is gorgeous, and its custom-made to my proportions—I’mproudto wear it. I untie the knot of my robe and let it fall from my shoulders.

There’s an audible gasp from the crew that hadn’t been present at the tidepool shoot. I throw back my shoulders, showing off the costume to its best advantage. Idols have worn more risqué outfitsthan this on stage;I’veworn more risqué outfits on the catwalk. There’s no reason to feel shy. I risk a glance at Nathaniel. His gaze, which had been lingering on my costume, raises to meet mine. My heart stutters at the heat in his eyes, and the already warm temperature in the room seems to raise a notch.

Before I go entirely up in flames, I turn from him and head to the pool, quickly submerging myself into the water. I can’t even cool down because the water is over forty degrees celsius.

“Sori-ssi,” the director says, positioned now behind the camera, “you remember what we discussed? Swim, swim, swim, and then emerge prettily by the edge of the pool. Like a fairy.”

A fairy mermaid, got it.I can do this.

Taking a deep breath, I dip below the surface, silently thanking my mother for all those swimming lessons growing up.Korea is a peninsula,she’d said.You must learn how to swim or you won’t survive.Now that I think about it, I wonder if she’d meant those words as a metaphor.

I move in what I hope is a graceful motion beneath the water, trying to keep my legs together to make it easier for the editor to add in a tail during post-production. Still submerged, I swim toward the edge, planting my feet at the bottom of the pool to orient my graceful emergence.

The water cascades off the top of my head, over my nose and cheeks. I don’t gasp for air but take small breaths to give the illusion that I don’t need air to breathe. I can feel the water catching on my lashes, and I have to resist the urge to raise my hand and wipe them away. Nathaniel comes into focus above me. He’s kneeling by the pool, looking down at me.

He doesn’t speak; instead, his gaze roves over my hair, my eyes, my lips. He has a line, though I can’t recall what the exact words are, something about asking me why I’m in the pool. I can’t deliver my message until he says his line. Did he forget it? We’re going to miss the shot. My heart races. I have to dosomething. Gripping the edge of the pool, I lift myself out of the water and press my lips to his.

It’s brief. I don’t have enough upper body strength to hold myself above the water for longer than a peck. My lips part. He gasps softly. When I release him, his lips follow mine, as if seeking more, but I’m already falling back into the water.