Page 10 of Public Image, Private Heart (K-Drama Love Story #1)

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Ji-yong

I attended Yumi’s play a few days ago. It was exceptional and thought-provoking.

Her performance was flawless—an impressive feat considering that in theater, there’s no room for error.

I sat in the back row with a mask on, trying to stay out of sight.

I left a few minutes before the end to head to the backstage with a bouquet of flowers, hoping this small gesture would show my support without being too intrusive.

But now I frowned at my phone screen, re-reading Yumi’s text declining my dinner invitation. It was unlike her to turn down a chance to hang out, especially with the promise of good food. Had I done something to upset her? I wracked my brain but couldn’t think of anything specific.

“Another round, another round!” Min-hee’s shout pulled me from my thoughts about Yumi’s play as she slid two shot glasses toward Jun-ho. He poured more soju and mumbled a string of incoherent, drunken phrases.

Since we wrapped up our shoot earlier than planned, we decided to unwind with drinks at a new BBQ spot, joined by several cast members from Hometown Whispers .

By the time we reached our fifth round of drinking game in the restaurant’s private room, a few of us were already showing signs of inebriation, even though it was still early in the evening.

Normally, I’d enjoy this type of outing, but tonight I sat quietly with my beer, my mind elsewhere. I was pacing myself because I couldn’t afford a hangover the next day. Min-hee should’ve known better—we had an early morning shoot tomorrow, but she just didn’t seem to care.

She was showing her carefree side, which I admired but also found risky for her public image.

Our society can be unforgiving towards such behavior, especially for female actresses.

I kept a vigilant eye, making sure no one was recording videos that could end up on social media.

Even in a private room among friends, you never know.

A few seconds of footage could jeopardize the careers we’ve spent years building.

But the risk to our careers isn’t the only concern. The intense pressure, constant scrutiny, cyberbullying, and fear of public backlash could have devastating consequences. In Korea, the showbiz industry is sadly notorious for its high suicide rates, making the stakes even higher.

“Min-hee, I think it’s time to call it a night.

Let me give you and Jun-ho a ride home,” I finally suggested, eyeing the two most inebriated people in the room, who showed no signs of slowing down.

I glanced around and caught Chungho’s eye; he seemed more sober and shrugged with a hint of amusement.

“Hyung, I can handle the rest of the crew. Just head home,” Chungho said thoughtfully.

It’s a pity my manager, Sangwook, couldn’t join me today. He’s at home taking care of his daughter, who’s not feeling well. Even though it’s not exactly in his job description, sometimes these things just come with the territory.

I sighed and gave Chungho a nod, slipping on my hat and mask for some anonymity. After settling the bill with the restaurant owner, I turned my attention to Min-hee and Jun-ho, who were having a hard time walking straight.

I put masks on them too, keeping an eye out for curious onlookers outside, even though it was only a short distance to my car.

Min-hee and Jun-ho were far from cooperative, giggling and making half-hearted attempts to return to the restaurant.

I let out a weary breath—at least they could still walk.

After a brief struggle, I managed to get them settled in the backseat of my car like two sacks of rice. “You guys better not throw up in my car,” I warned them. I pulled out my GPS and asked, “Hey, Jun-ho, you live in Jung-gu, right? It’s not too far from here.”

Jun-ho mumbled a yes before shutting his eyes and resting his head against the window. Min-hee followed suit, lying across the back seat with her cheeks flushed red.

I sighed again. It seemed like it was going to be a long ride. After driving for a while, I managed to reached Jun-ho’s apartment.

“Min-hee, you stay here, okay? I’m just going to drop Jun-ho real quick, then I’ll drop you at your place too.” I tried to talk to her, but she was already fast asleep in the backseat of my car.

Frustration welled up inside me, but I took a deep breath and focused on one task at a time. I left a tiny crack on the window to let some fresh air into the car for Min-hee and then helped Jun-ho out, draping one of his arms over my shoulder as we made our way to the elevator.

Guided by his slurred directions, we finally reached the 10th floor where his apartment was located.

Jun-ho managed to fumble with the digicode and get the door open.

We were met by his surprised mother. I quickly bowed to her and greeted her politely before helping Jun-ho into his room, easing him onto his bed. At least he was now safe and sound.

“ Hyunggggg , I love youuuuu...” Jun-ho mumbled again, his words stretched and garbled. “Thank youuuuuuuuuuu...”

I shook my head with a weary smile, feeling a mix of relief and lingering frustration.

As Jun-ho drifted off to sleep, I took a moment to gather myself, bracing for the ‘second sack of rice’ still left in my car. Jun-ho’s mother apologized profusely at the doorstep, but I assured her it was nothing.

I said my goodbyes quickly and made my way back to the car, where Min-hee remained fast asleep, her disheveled form sprawled across the seat.

I grumbled under my breath, growing increasingly frustrated.

I’d hoped to enjoy the night, but instead, I ended up playing babysitter when I had far more interesting things to do.

I slipped into the backseat beside her and gave her a nudge, not feeling particularly sympathetic at this point. “Hey, Min-hee, what’s your address? It’s in Apgujeong, right?”

She stirred, sighing and looking vaguely irritated as she cracked open her eyes. “ Opppaaaaaaaaaa ...” she mumbled, punctuated by giggles. Her arms flailed playfully, as if she were swaying with the wind.

“You’re so handsome,” she said, reaching out with wobbly affection and trying to pull me into a hug.

“Hey, hey, watch out,” I replied, sidestepping her attempts and trying to keep things from getting awkward.

Suddenly, she shifted and nearly ended up in my lap, attempting to hug me and plant some kisses on my face.

I wrestled with her to keep things under control, knowing we still had a drama to shoot and I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable between us.

Besides, I wasn’t interested in her that way.

My days of carefree, no-strings-attached fun were behind me, and this wasn’t the time or place for that. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of someone who’s clearly had too much to drink. And even though she was charming and fun, she wasn’t the one on my mind these days.

After some effort, I finally got her settled back into her seat.

She pouted, clearly displeased with the adjustment.

Once I returned to the driver’s seat and confirmed her address, the drive felt like the longest thirty minutes of my life.

When we arrived, I helped her inside and got her comfortably situated on the sofa, utterly exhausted but a little grateful that she lives alone—I didn’t have the energy to deal with anyone else.

Looking at her sprawled out on the couch, I muttered, “You really should be more careful.” I shook my head with a tired smile. “You’re lucky I’m not the type to take advantage of a drunken mess.”

She sighed softly in her sleep. “And you’d better show up on time tomorrow,” I muttered again as I left her apartment, feeling like an overworked caretaker.

Back at my place, I rummaged through the fridge for a hangover remedy but found nothing that would ease my pounding headache.

I checked my phone again, but still no messages from Yumi.

Feeling a bit disheartened, I grabbed a soft drink and decided to call it a day—one of those days that definitely needed a “handle with care” sticker.

A few more days went by, filled with busy shooting schedules.

I chose to keep the drunken night from a few days ago out of conversation with the crew, maintaining a strictly professional attitude.

Min-hee seemed a bit embarrassed but avoided bringing it up as well.

I wasn’t entirely sure how much she recalled from that evening.

Yumi and I exchanging few sporadic messages. But still, a small, petty part of me couldn’t help but wonder if Yumi was avoiding me on purpose. Determined to get to the bottom of things, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

If she was too busy to meet me for dinner, then I’d just have to bring dinner to her.

“Are you available tonight? My grandmother sent me way too much home-cooked food, and I could use some help finishing it,” I texted, hoping it didn’t sound too much like a desperate plea. A few suspenseful minutes later, my phone buzzed with her reply.

“Sure, I’d love to have some home-cooked food! It’s been forever!” she responded, throwing in her usual bear stickers and a dash of enthusiasm.

I felt a small victory. My clever ruse seemed to be working. I chuckled at the thought of us and our cupcake disaster another day. No wonder it has been too long since she last tasted a proper home-cooked meal.

After wrapping up my day, I headed over to Yumi’s with a collection of containers filled with home-cooked food from my grandmother.

Ever since we lost Grandpa a few years back, Grandma had been on a mission to fill our lives with enough home-cooked dishes to last a lifetime.

Her cooking was legendary (as all grandmothers’ cooking seems to be), and I couldn’t wait to share some with Yumi.

Following a brief drive, I rang a doorbell that now seemed familiar. Yumi answered, once again wearing an oversized T-shirt that nearly engulfed her petite frame. Despite looking a little worn out, her smile remained as bright as ever. We shared some jokes while she reheated my grandmother’s feast.

“Thank you for coming to my play the other day and for the flowers,” she beamed, pointing to the large vase in her living room that filled the space with a fresh floral scent.

She looked radiant, and for a moment, I was caught off guard, managing only a shy smile.

I felt like a complete fool. It was like a switch had flipped, and I felt a jolt of something unfamiliar.

“Oh, and guess what?” she continued, her excitement bubbling over. “I’ve got an audition tomorrow for the lead role in a drama. And if I’m selected, I’ll be starring opposite Ryan Kim.”

“Oh?” I replied, intrigued. I’d seen Ryan Kim a few times at award ceremonies—he’s a veteran actor in his late thirties with international acclaim, though I didn’t know him personally.

She went on to explain the plot: a college campus love story between two medical students, one of whom is dealing with a chronic illness.

“You should totally go for it,” I said, grinning with pride. “I’m sure you’ll be amazing with him.”

She gave me a skeptical look, trying to temper her excitement.

“Yeah, but who knows if I’ll even get the role,” she said, managing her expectations as she sipped the red wine I brought, alongside my grandmother’s food, making a bit of a face.

I joined her in drinking the wine and doodled absentmindedly on a scrap of paper I found nearby.

I drew a quick note that read, “Yumi, fighting!” with a cartoonish dog giving a thumbs-up.

Yumi peeked at my doodle, eyes widening in surprise. “Wow, I didn’t know you could draw like this!” she said, examining my artwork. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

I chuckled at her playful compliment. “Hmm, let me think...” I tapped my chin before taking another sip of the red wine. “I’m hopeless at playing the piano, and anything DIY-related is basically a disaster waiting to happen,” I confessed with a smirk.

“But I love drawing. Before I became an actor, I considered becoming a comic book illustrator.”

“Really?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. After a brief pause, she added, “But are you happy with your decision to pursue acting?”

I shrugged and replied, “The pay’s great, and the job is pretty varied—I never have to do the same thing two days in a row.

” I paused thoughtfully before adding, “But it does come with its drawbacks. It’s not the most stable job.

I can’t be seen in public, can’t even run my own errands, and sometimes I deal with overzealous fans.

Most of them are great, though. Oh, and I have to maintain my figure, which means I can’t just eat whatever I want. ”

She smiled sympathetically. “Oh? So these aren’t the usual foods you eat? What’s on your regular menu then?”

“Salads, eggs, boiled chicken breast,” I said glumly. “Though I do allow myself a few cheat days a week.”

“That sounds awful,” she replied, wrinkling her nose.

She picked up some of my grandmother’s food with her chopsticks, took a bite, and her eyes lit up with surprise. “This is... really good!” she said, her eyes practically sparkling. “You should try it too.” She then scooped up a bit of jangjorim and fed me.

For a moment, we both froze, realizing just how intimate that gesture was. We quickly scrambled to regain our composure, trying to distract ourselves with other tasks. I carried the various plates of my grandmother’s home-cooked meal on the table, setting them down as if I were at home.

Back at the kitchen, I found her slicing fruit for dessert. “Can I grab some of your soju?” I asked, eyeing her fridge.

She gave me a skeptical look. “Wine and soju? Are you sure about that?”

I nodded with a sheepish grin, feeling a bit like an alcoholic. “Just one shot. It’s what makes me unbeatable at Speed Racer Kart.”

“Alright, help yourself,” she said, shaking her head with a chuckle.

Before we knew it, we’d polished off my grandmother’s meal and plunged into a fiercely competitive Speed Racer Kart session.

I found myself feeling more tipsy than usual, and I shut my eyes for a moment.

When I opened them again, Yumi was nestled beside me on the sofa, also showing signs of being both tipsy and food-comatose.

Her head bobbed up and down like a bobblehead on a car dashboard.

I felt the warmth and the gentle tickle of her hair brushing against my shoulder as she rested her head there, adding a cozy and unexpected twist to the evening.