Page 4 of Public Image, Private Heart (K-Drama Love Story #1)
A sudden jolt from the horse sent us both lurching forward, our bodies pressed together in an unexpected closeness. My grip around the reins tightened instinctively, but there was no sign of panic in Ji-yong’s face. Glancing back at him, I found his eyes surprisingly gentle despite the surprise.
“Don’t worry, Yumi,” he said calmly, his voice cutting through the sound of our horses’ hooves pounding against the ground. “The ride is almost over.”
I tried to focus on his words, but the close proximity between us was intoxicating. I reminded myself once again of our roles as mere co-workers, and not lovers like our characters in the drama. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate reality from make-believe.
Even after we finished filming for the day, Ji-yong’s words stayed with me. “Don’t worry.” But how could I not worry? The line between reality and fantasy seemed to blur more each day, creating a tumultuous mix of emotions that left me spinning.
The steamy bed scene we shot the other day now lived rent-free in my head.
It was an intensely provocative scene, and I couldn’t help feeling anxious as dozens of filming crew watched us in minimal clothing and compromising positions.
I remember how gentle Ji-yong was, always keeping his hands where they felt safe and whispering comforting words, clearly aware of my uneasiness and doing his best to ease my nerves.
The director, striving for authenticity, provided detailed and sometimes uncomfortable instructions. She paused frequently, adjusting our positions and describing the exact movements for each scene.
We were preparing ourselves on the futon, Ji-yong lying on top of me, careful not to crush me with his weight. His shirt was half-open, revealing his glorious abs.
“Ji-yong, I want you to look into Yumi’s eyes like she’s the most important person in your world.
Caress her face gently, then kiss her softly, and open her shirt a little before.
.. er, the main deed in the intimate scene,” the director instructed, while the writer nodded silently behind her like a shadow.
“Yumi, I want you to respond to his touch naturally and go with the flow, consumed by your passion. Grab his head to deepen the kiss.” Her words, while professional, made me acutely aware of Ji-yong’s proximity and the intimate nature of our roles.
I was hyper-aware of every touch, every breath.
Sensing my agitation, Ji-yong went out of his way to make me feel comfortable. With a somewhat awkward smile, he leaned in and whispered, “You’re doing great, Yumi. Just concentrate on your acting, okay?”
I nodded in acknowledgment, but I sensed that he was nervous too; being so close to him, I could feel his heartbeat racing.
As we followed the director’s instructions, our eyes met and lingered a bit too long, blurring the lines between acting and reality. One particular moment stood out: Ji-yong was supposed to brush a strand of hair away from my face. The touch was light, but it sent a shiver down my spine.
When his lips finally met mine, my hand instinctively moved to draw his head closer, intensifying our kiss. We were careful not to deepen it further or use our tongues, but the raw passion coursing between us was palpable—almost primal.
His body moved rhythmically atop mine, while his hand slid to the top of my traditional costume, carefully unbuttoning it to expose the base of my neck. His kisses traced the path of his fingers, sending a thrill through me, and a soft sigh escaped my lips, as if craving even more.
The director noticed the chemistry and capitalized on it. “That’s perfect! Keep that energy. I want to see that connection.”
When the director finally called cut, there was a shared moment of contemplation. Ji-yong and I exchanged a glance, acknowledging the unusual intimacy of the experience.
“That was... intense,” Ji-yong remarked softly, his eyes searching mine for a reaction.
“Yeah, it was,” I replied, still processing the emotions the scene had stirred up.
As we took a moment to decompress, the crew began resetting the set for the next scene. The director approached with a satisfied smile, praising our performance and seamlessly moving on to preparations for the next scenario, as if it were just another routine part of her day.
I shook my head, trying to forget the intimate scene, but the sense of connection between Ji-yong and me lingered. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had subtly shifted between us.
When I finally making my way back to my dressing room, I was eager to escape into my favorite game on my phone.
“Just one mission,” I promised myself as I closed the door behind me.
But before I could even start, a loud knock made me jump.
In a panic, I quickly hid my phone under a stack of scripts.
“Come in,” I called out, trying to compose myself.
The door cracked open and Ji-yong’s head peeked around the corner. “Mind if I join you?”
I stared at him, wide-eyed. “How did you...?”
He chuckled as he walked over and plopped down next to me on the couch. “I saw you sneaking in here. Thought maybe you’d want some company while playing.”
To my surprise, he took his phone from his pocket and showed me that he had the same game installed. I squealed in excitement, “Ooh, what level are you on now?”
“I’m on level 59, just one more until the final one, but it’s been half a year and I’m nowhere near,” he replied while shifting his focus to his phone.
As the hours slipped past midnight, a comfortable silence enveloped my dressing room. It felt as if we were just two ordinary people enjoying each other’s company, rather than co-stars who had shared intimate moments only a short while ago.