Page 23 of Public Image, Private Heart (K-Drama Love Story #1)

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Ji-yong

I finished the japchae with a noisy slurp, exclaiming in bliss. There’s nothing like homemade food.

My mom grinned from across the table. “Slow down a bit, will you? There’s plenty left, and you can even take some home later.”

I finished my shoot early today, so I decided to visit my parents. With the drama nearing its end, there were fewer scenes left to film.

“This is nice,” my mom said warmly. “You should visit us more often, Ji-yong! It’s so lonely here now that it’s just your father and me. Do you have another drama lined up soon?”

I stretched a bit before responding, “Yes, I do have some offers. But I’m thinking about taking a short break.”

I heard my dad let out a short grunt. He’s never been the talkative type, but since the incident a few years ago that strained our relationship, he’s become even more reserved, only chiming in with a monosyllable or a grunt every now and then. I smirked at him, used to his ways by now.

Sensing the tension between us, my mom quickly retreated to the kitchen, returning with a plate of sliced watermelon, as if the fruit could somehow smooth things over.

“Ji-yong,” she began, her voice carrying the unspoken concern of my dad as she carefully poked at a piece of watermelon, “taking care of yourself is important, but you know an actor’s career is short-lived. You should be working hard while you can.”

I sighed inwardly. Not this again. It was the same old speech I’d heard from my parents and even from Mrs. Lee, my agent, just the other day.

“Don’t worry about me,” I reassured them, trying to keep my tone light.

“I’ve invested in stocks and real estate, so even if I lose my job tomorrow, I won’t need to move back in with you. ”

I almost stuck my tongue out to tease them but held back, sensing that might be too much given the tension in the air.

But parents will be parents, I suppose. They often forget that I’m a 36-year-old actor earning on average 300 to 500 million won per episode—one of South Korea’s highest-paid stars.

My mom shot me a playful glare. “You know we wouldn’t mind if you moved back in with us,” she said with a sigh.

Then her tone shifted slightly. “And what’s this I’m hearing about you and your co-star?

Yoon Min-hee, is it? That photo is so awful, I practically jumped out of my chair when I saw it online. ”

I took a deep breath, bracing myself as the conversation grew more delicate. “Yes, it was unfortunate, but honestly, nothing happened between Min-hee and me. I just took her home because she was too drunk.”

My mom let out a small, annoyed noise, clearly irritated. I could sense that she was secretly relieved she didn’t have a daughter like Min-hee to worry about in moments like these. “You should be careful. These kinds of gossip and rumors could damage your career,” she said.

I didn’t say much in response, just offered a small acknowledgment. I wasn’t in the mood to prolong the discussion.

She continued to eat the watermelon before changing the subject.

“Oh right, for Ji-ho’s anniversary this Sunday, did you buy your present yet?

We got him this giant plush, but we’re thinking of buying another one—maybe something more educational.

What do you think?” She showed me a picture of a giant blue penguin plush wearing glasses and a helmet on her phone.

I nodded in silence, knowing we had reached the main topic of my visit. “Yeah, I bought my present too. But Mom...” I hesitated before continuing, feeling the need to give them a heads-up. “I... will not be coming alone.”

I could see my mother’s eyes widen with curiosity. “Oh, I see,” she said, nodding in understanding. “So, this... friend of yours—how long have you been together? Who is she? It’s not Min-hee, is it?” Her tone was a mix of excitement and caution.

I snickered at her enthusiasm and quick wit. No wonder she was the first woman nominated as a professor in Biochemistry at the Korea Military Academy. I understood her excitement, though, as it had been a long time since I last introduced a ‘friend’ to the family.

“No, it’s not Min-hee. But you do know her. She was my co-star from the previous drama, Princess of Cosmos —Han Yumi.”

I heard my dad clear his throat, signaling his disapproval.

My mom tapped his arm to warn him. “That’s wonderful!

” she exclaimed. “I’ve always thought she was naturally beautiful, but there’s something more to her looks—a hidden charm, I should say.

She also seems kind, and her acting is truly impressive. ”

My mom continued with excitement, “So what do her parents do?”

Ah, here goes the classic question from Korean parents, I thought. In Korea, family and family background are given a lot of importance. I knew this question would come, but it didn’t make it any easier to answer.

“Her dad was a pilot and her mom was a nurse...” I started to answer my mom’s question before getting to the main point. Isn’t it strange to talk about the past lives of deceased people? It’s as if their entire lives are reduced to just a few details once they’re gone.

My mom nodded in acknowledgement but looked a bit confused by my choice of words. “So what do they do now?”

“They passed away when Yumi was in her 20s,” I finally added.

There was a long pause.

My dad broke the silence with a sarcastic snicker and started to retreat to his room but was stopped by my mom. She whispered a short, inaudible warning to him, accompanied by a strict look, and my dad returned to the table.

I nearly laughed out loud seeing my dad, a retired Chief of Naval Operations and one of the most prominent figures in the military in the country, being completely obedient to my mom.

“I see...” My mom responded carefully, choosing her words diplomatically. “It seems like a very complicated family situation. Are you... sure about your relationship with her, dear?”

I felt frustration beginning to boil inside me. “I’m a thousand percent sure about her,” I answered firmly. “It’s not her fault that her parents passed away; she couldn’t choose that.”

Just like I couldn’t choose to be born into this family with my dad as my father , I thought silently.

“I know that,” she said. “But I just want you to be careful with your choice, especially when it comes to a partner. Sometimes, when you really like someone, you might overlook practical considerations. But love alone isn’t enough to sustain a relationship.

And being someone as famous as you is not easy.

.. there are many people who might try to take advantage. ..”

“Mom, please,” I cut in, my tone sharper than usual.

“Don’t you think I know that? Yumi is an accomplished actress herself; she doesn’t want anything from my fame or wealth.

She... is the warmest and strongest person I’ve ever known.

And you better show nothing but kindness to her during Ji-ho’s birthday. ”

My parents looked a bit taken aback by my stern behavior. I sighed, not wanting to pick a fight with them, but lately, it seemed like everyone was being unfair to Yumi.

“What I’m trying to say is... I want to share my family with her, to let her know she could be a part of it too,” I added gently, hoping to ease the tension. “Could you do that for me?”

My mom appeared surprised by both my serious tone and the direction I intended for my relationship with Yumi.

To my surprise, my dad snickered again, though not with his usual sarcastic tone.

“Ji-yong has made his choice,” my dad finally said, his deep voice resonating.

“We should reserve our judgment until we meet her in person. It’s not wise to judge someone solely based on their family background. ”

Ah, a sensitive subject. Being an orphan himself, my father faced a difficult childhood.

Both of his parents had died during the war in 1953, when he was just a baby.

Raised by his grandparents, he eventually chose to become a soldier, a decision that I believe was deeply motivated by his personal upbringing.

My dad finally retreated to his room for real, likely unable to cope after showing so much emotion in one night. I exchanged a look with my mom.

“Alright then,” my mom finally said, breaking the silence. “We’ll meet her and see for ourselves.” I helped her with the dishes and mentioned that I should be heading out soon.

As we walked together to the door, my mom clutched my arm and handed me a container with the remaining japchae.

“I trust you’re old enough to make wise decisions, Ji-yong,” she said with a warm smile.

“Since when did our little Ji-yong become so wise and handsome?” She squeezed my cheek affectionately, ignoring my silent protest.

“You know... I’m glad you’re introducing your... girlfriend to us,” she added in a whisper. “Who knows, we might have another grandson or granddaughter soon.”

“Eomma!” I warned her. She let out a small, cheeky laugh before letting me go.

A few days passed by and we finally wrapped up the drama. As is typical on the last day of shooting, there was a mix of flowers, celebrations, and tears. Despite doing this multiple times, the final day always holds a special magic.

Min-hee and I exchanged somewhat awkward congratulations.

Along with the PD, assistant PD, and the entire crew, we toasted the drama’s completion with champagne.

After taking a final group photo and saying our goodbyes, I headed home, feeling a brief sense of relief at the closure of another cycle of drama shooting.

We never found out who shared the questionable photo of Min-hee and me in the car with the press.

But after I pressured my agent, they reluctantly issued a joint statement, explaining that nothing happened between Min-hee and me, without further elaboration.

The rumors and speculations were still circulating online, of course, but at least it brought me some small internal peace and helped ease the tension in my real off-screen relationship with Yumi.

Yumi greeted me with a warm hug as soon as I walked through the door. “Congratulations on finishing your drama!” she said, holding me tightly. “I can’t wait to watch it.”

Grinning, I returned her hug and kissed her softly, grateful to have her waiting for me at home.

Since we’ve been practically living together these past few days, I gave her my digicode so she could come straight to my place after work.

Yumi’s warmth enveloped me, washing away the exhaustion from the shoot.

I held her close, breathing in her familiar scent.

I’m relieved to see she looks so much better now, especially after everything that happened with Ryan on set.

I definitely owe my bodyguard a huge thank you and a substantial bonus at the end of Yumi’s shoot.

“I missed you,” I murmured, my voice muffled against her shoulder.

“Me too,” she whispered back. We moved to the living room, where the dim light created a cozy atmosphere.

Yumi let out a deep sigh as she sank into the couch, resting her head on my shoulder as we sat together in silence. Eventually, she turned to me, her eyes reflecting a mixture of happiness and something else—worry? Sadness?

“I’m really happy for you, Ji-yong,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “Finishing your drama is such a big deal. But...” She paused, searching for the right words. “I feel a bit envious because I still have a few days left to shoot my drama with Ryan Kim.”

“I know,” I whispered, kissing the top of her head. “But it’s almost over. Now that I’ve finished my drama, I can be there with you every day. I’ll follow you everywhere and keep an eye on that bastard,” I said, half-joking.

A smile spread across her face, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thank you, but I’m not a baby, you know. And with your bodyguard and the evidence we have, I think Ryan won’t dare to bother me anymore.”

She looked up at me with a glimmer of excitement in her eyes before continuing, “How about we order some takeout and watch a movie? My treat, to celebrate the end of your drama!”

I felt a surge of affection as I looked at her, realizing how much these simple moments meant to me. Playing house with Yumi felt like the most natural and comforting thing in the world. In fact, I found myself wanting to have her here with me forever.

“Sounds perfect,” I said, my heart lightening at the thought of a relaxed evening spent together. “You know how much I love your taste in terrible movies.”

Thinking about our movie marathons we’d had in the past—filled with laughs, silly commentary, and some truly questionable films with awful special effects and costumes—brought a chuckle to my lips. I leaned in for another kiss, savoring the closeness and warmth between us.

While Yumi busied herself with ordering the takeout on her phone, I watched her with a contented smile. Her excitement was infectious, and the idea of spending the evening wrapped in comfort and her company felt perfect.