Page 12 of From Paris to Seoul (K-Drama Love Story #2)

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Seo-yeon

“I’m here in Parissss! ” I texted Ji-a, attaching a selfie with a classic peace sign in front of a Paris airport sign.

Oh, wait—it’s probably past midnight in Korea. Ji-a is probably fast asleep.

I forwarded the same photo to my older sister, Yae-rin, who keeps an odd schedule at the company. She’s probably still awake, burning the midnight oil.

She’s the pride and joy of our parents—the smart, successful one. A few years ago, she started working at their company, clearly being groomed to take over one day.

Their only complaint about her is her complete disinterest in dating. And for a while, that was the one thing I had going for me in their eyes.

But not anymore.

So, what’s a recently single, possibly soon-to-be-jobless, boring disappointment supposed to do first in Paris? I sighed, wondering sarcastically.

After retrieving my suitcase from the carousel, I hailed a taxi and headed to my hotel. It was a four-star spot downtown, close to the Louvre—a place that brought back memories. I’d stayed here once with my family during a rare holiday a long time ago.

My phone buzzed with a text from my sister, reminding me to stay cautious since Paris isn’t always the safest city for a solo female traveler.

She also mentioned that she’d informed our parents about my whereabouts.

Apparently, they were baffled by my decision to take off on an unannounced vacation like this.

Truthfully, this was my first time traveling alone. I’d never done anything so out of character before, but after everything that had happened recently, I needed a change—to do something spontaneous, to do something I wasn’t “supposed” to do.

First things first, I decided to take a bath—something I hadn’t done in a while. No rushed showers, no deadlines looming over me, just pure relaxation. And there’s nothing quite like washing off a long flight—the warmth of the lavender-scented water was pure bliss as it soaked into my tired feet.

The hotel room itself was divine, with a spacious bathroom and a bed so big and soft it practically begged me to sink into it.

Half an hour later, dressed in my pajamas, I gave in. I dove into the plush, fluffy bed with a sigh. Ah… small pleasures like this made everything feel worth it.

It didn’t take long before I drifted into a deep 12-hour sleep, nearly missing breakfast. As usual, I hadn’t slept well on the plane, and combined with jet lag, I could easily have slept the day away without realizing it.

After finishing breakfast, I set out to begin my solo adventure in Paris. My first stop was the Louvre Museum, but I decided to skip it for now when I saw the massive queue outside. I made a mental note to book a ticket and come back later.

Instead, I continued strolling along the Seine, soaking up the sun, stopping by charming coffee shops and quaint local stores, and passing through the famous Tuileries Garden.

It reminded me of our family trip here ten years ago.

I was 24 then—still fresh-faced and optimistic, thrilled about my budding career in modeling and acting, and excited about landing small roles in TV dramas.

Back then, everything felt like an exciting, open opportunity. Maybe I’d land a bigger role? Or perhaps I could pivot to becoming a news anchor?

Now, as I caught my reflection in a shop window, I saw someone who looked… tired and deflated.

That jerk Min-seok, I thought bitterly, watching a flock of ducks race across the large fountain in the middle of the Tuileries Garden. The image of him straddled by a woman in a tacky leopard-print outfit flashed in my mind, making me shudder in disgust.

Why her over me? Was it like the casting director had said—was I just too plain, too boring?

As if the disaster of my relationship wasn’t enough, now I had to worry about my career too. After the harsh criticism from the PD and casting director, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to stay in this industry anymore.

They were the ones who claimed this was as far as my career would ever go. The thought stung, and a frown tugged at my lips as I sank into a reclining green bench by the fountain, surrounded by a mix of locals and tourists.

Facing a career and relationship crisis and starting over at 34 feels a lot scarier—and far less romantic—than it would have if I were ten years younger.

I sighed again as I pulled out a small novel from my tote bag: Little Women . I must have read this book dozens of times; the pages were yellowing, and some corners were cracked. It’s my go-to comfort read, a familiar story about family and sisterhood that never failed to soothe me.

As I flipped through the well-worn pages, my phone buzzed in my bag.

“Enjoying Paris? ” Ji-a’s message popped up.

“Yes! The weather’s amazing today. I love it! How about you? What are you up to?” I typed back.

“Dealing with the agency’s fury over your sudden leave and coming up with excuses for the PD about why you didn’t show up at the studio. Oh, and they said you might have to pay a fine, ” Ji-a replied, adding a flood of angry emoji.

I gulped, guilt creeping in. “Sorry, Ji-a!” I texted back quickly. “I owe you big time. And of course, I’ll cover the fine. ” Regret settled in. I had needed this escape, but knowing I’d left someone else to clean up the mess didn’t sit well with me.

Ji-a didn’t reply right away, and I reminded myself to call her later. She didn’t deserve to handle the fallout on her own.

After finishing a few chapters of Little Women , I continued my stroll and eventually found myself near Opéra Garnier. My stomach growled as I passed an ice cream shop, reminding me that I’d skipped lunch—jetlag really had thrown my whole schedule off.

I glanced at the brightly colored swirls of ice cream on display. I can do whatever I want on this trip, right? Including having ice cream for a very late lunch. With that thought, I stepped inside, ordered a cone, and settled at a small table by the window.

The ice cream was insanely good—rich, creamy, and just sweet enough. But what made it even better was that, for once, I wasn’t mentally calculating calories like I usually did.

Still, as I ate, I had a groundbreaking realization: traveling alone wasn’t as amazing as I’d hyped it up to be.

The best part of traveling is sharing experiences—pointing out weird little details, reacting to new flavors, laughing over random things. But here I was, sitting alone with my ice cream, nodding at myself like some lunatic. Wow, this is delicious, Seo-yeon. Oh my gosh, really? Tell me more!

Yeah. Not exactly the dramatic solo adventure I’d imagined.

The café buzzed with groups of friends and couples, conversations blending into a warm, familiar hum. Meanwhile, I sat alone, licking my cone like I was in an indie film montage—just without the artsy filter or emotional depth.

I exhaled, letting it go, and focused on finishing my ice cream before heading out to explore the Opéra Garnier.

It had always been one of my favorite places in Paris.

I had attended an opera performance there with my parents once—the singers had been absolutely breathtaking.

But what lingered in my memory the most was the pianist.

The way he played was unforgettable—so elegant and smooth, his fingers gliding over the keys as if they were weightless. The melodies echoed through the high ceilings of the Opéra, making the moment even more mesmerizing.

As my thoughts drifted back to the past, I suddenly spotted a familiar figure strolling around the Opéra Garnier. Another Korean! But not just any Korean… someone I actually knew!

I couldn’t believe my eyes—what were the odds of running into a fellow co-star in Paris?

It was Yang Baekhyun, a few years my junior, who had played the second-lead role alongside me in the TV series Princess of Cosmos. The same series where Ji-yong and Yumi were the main leads.

In contrast to Ji-yong, Baekhyun doesn’t have that flashy, universally appealing face or the magnetic, charming energy that draws everyone in. Sure, he is tall, with broad shoulders, but he is the reserved, mysterious type—he wouldn’t say much unless it was absolutely necessary.

At first, I barely paid him any attention—he was distant, a bit aloof. But after seeing him a few more times and working alongside him, I began to notice his unique charm.

Not that it should’ve been surprising—he started as a model, after all, and models are expected to have a certain presence. Yet, there was something about him that went beyond just good looks.

His almond-shaped eyes always held a sharp intensity, his neat, clean-cut hairstyle added to his chiseled look, and his deep voice, paired with a strong jawline, gave him an air of quiet confidence. There was something about him—thrilling, intriguing… almost enigmatic.

We quickly exchanged greetings, and he mentioned something about his girlfriend. Ah, of course. What kind of lunatics would go to the city of love without their lover?

He even kindly invited me to join him for dinner… with his girlfriend. I laughed it off with a small joke as I politely declined, and we quickly said our goodbyes. Then, I practically bolted in the opposite direction, hoping he wouldn’t catch on to my solo-trip fiasco.

Let’s just hope Paris is big enough. And let’s hope we never run into each other again.