Page 6 of Public Image, Private Heart (K-Drama Love Story #1)

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Yumi

I stretched and yawned, grateful to finally be back in my own bed, with no lines to practice first thing in the morning.

But now what?

My mind wandered back to Ji-yong’s invitation to see my play. I imagined him sitting in the old theater, observing me on stage. Would he be captivated? Or would he see the stark contrast between us—not only in fame but also in talent?

Enough of that! I chastised myself. Overthinking tends to lead nowhere good. I sat up on my bed and opted to play video games for a while, hoping to distract myself.

Just as I was getting into the game, my phone buzzed. I glanced over, intending to ignore it until after my game. But I saw his name flash across the screen. It was a text from Ji-yong. my heart gave a little leap and I dropped everything to scoop up my phone.

I saw a bear sticker with a question mark popping up next to his message. “What are you up to?” he asked. Then, a few seconds later, I received a photo from him of a video game exhibition flyer. “Have you seen this? Your kind of thing, isn’t it?” he added.

I quickly typed out my reply. “Yes! I’ve always wanted to go, but never had the chance.

” I hesitated before hitting send, suddenly realizing what I was doing.

Chatting with Ryu Ji-yong about my interests and opinions like any normal friends would.

When did we become close enough to share these things?

Before I could think too much into it, my phone vibrated again with his swift reply. “Then let’s go together!” he suggested.

I stared at my screen in disbelief. Was he really inviting me? Or was this just another one of his playful remarks?

“Are you crazy?” I typed back. “What if someone saw us? What if a journalist took our photo?”

Another bear sticker appeared, this time with three little dots above its head, looking sad. “You’re right,” read his message. “Or, we could pretend to have met by chance if we go there separately.”

My fingers hesitated over my phone, unsure of what to type.

I started to craft a response, only to erase it swiftly, my mind racing as I searched for the right words.

“Nah,” I finally settled on, “It’s too risky.

” The weight of our unfinished drama loomed large in my thoughts.

With the final episode yet to air, any misstep could jeopardize everything we had worked so hard for, not to mention the potential legal ramifications from the production team over stirring gossip and impacting the drama’s success.

Seconds turned into minutes as I awaited his response. When it came, I was unprepared for the rush of emotions it stirred.

“Coward,” his message read, followed by a slew of laughter emoticons. Then another message popped up, “Alright, Yumi. We can always try next time when things have settled down.”

I sighed in relief and sent a quick “Sounds like a plan,” before putting my phone away.

It was strange. It was nice. It was confusing.

Maybe Ji-yong and I could be friends, real friends, once everything had calmed down, I thought with a glimmer of hope.

The following weeks were filled with more interviews, fan meetings, and public appearances. Ji-yong and I became experts at hiding our growing friendship from prying eyes, sharing secret smiles and inside jokes while maintaining a professional front for the cameras.

But when Ji-yong lightly brushed his arm against mine during a photo session, I found myself blushing furiously as an unexpected thrill coursed through me. He glanced at me and winked so subtly that no one else noticed.

It was as if the threads of our onscreen and offscreen personas had intertwined, creating a delicate but undeniable bond that sparked with each subtle touch and secret glance.

As the final episode of our drama was aired, the world held its breath. The anticipation was almost tangible; even though we knew how the story ended, seeing it unfold on screen was a different experience altogether.

Normally, I avoid watching myself on screen unless the PD insists on reviewing the footage of our performance on the monitor after each shoot.

There’s something cringy about seeing your own actions, especially the steamy scenes with Ji-yong.

It’s just too embarrassing. But I managed to muster the courage to watch the final episode.

As our characters professed their undying love, a wave of emotions hit me.

I couldn’t help but snicker at the ridiculously long camera shot at the end, with us embracing dramatically against the setting sun, all underscored by a tender and evocative melody with gentle piano and soulful strings.

The editing was impeccable, but I recalled that moment as the actress who lived through it.

We were in the tideland from midday to sunset shooting that three-minute scene, running back and forth with my foot constantly getting stuck in the sand.

Ji-yong and I kept messing up, driving the crew a bit crazy.

I also remembered the late-night rehearsals, early morning shoots, Ji-yong’s relentless teasing, and our shared laughter and tears.

After the episode concluded and the credits rolled on my TV screen, my phone buzzed persistently with messages, including those in our group chat with the cast and production crew, sharing thoughts on the finale.

I chose to ignore most of them, but Ji-yong’s text caught my attention. “So... what do you think?” he asked.

In response, I sent him a serious bear sticker, looking as if it was thinking hard.

“Yes?” He prodded further, his curiosity evident and amusing.

“I thought it was beautiful,” I finally admitted. “The music was great too.”

“Is that all?” he teased back, a playful tone lacing his message.

“And you were fantastic,” I relented.

“Only fantastic?” His teasing continued, the playful edge evident. “Are you sure?”

I rolled my eyes at his own self-conceit but couldn’t hold back the smile that came with it. “Yes, Ji-yong,” I replied, playing along. “You were downright magical.”

He quickly fired back with a simple, “I thought so too.”

I chuckled at his shamelessness. Checking the clock, I realized it was well past midnight, and I was suddenly struck by how exhausted I felt. Almost as if he could sense my fatigue, Ji-yong sent another follow-up message.

“Get some sleep, Yumi. You deserve it.”

It wasn’t a particularly profound message, but the simple gesture of concern made me smile.

“And by the way, you are magical too,” he added.

My heart fluttered at his words. “Thanks, Ji-yong,” I replied. “I’m heading to bed now. You should get some sleep too.”

The next morning, I woke to a world that felt different somehow, as if the air had changed with the conclusion of our drama.

A flurry of messages from friends congratulating me flooded my phone, alongside numerous notifications from fans on social media praising the finale episode.

It was overwhelming in the most wonderful way possible.

My manager Da-eun called to congratulate me. “Hey, congrats again on the Princess of Cosmos finale! You’ve got yourself a fan. Daebak!” she squealed. “And I have even more great news. We’ve just received your salary for the last drama. But that’s not all—”

She proceeded to outline my agenda for the upcoming week: a play at the theater, an audition for a gadget commercial, and an interview with a lifestyle magazine.

I felt a twinge of excitement at receiving my first salary for the drama.

As newcomers in the showbiz industry, our lives aren’t as glamorous as people might think.

We usually receive our payment only after all the episodes have aired, and a significant portion is based on bonuses tied to the drama’s ratings.

Additionally, our agency takes a substantial cut, often leaving us with only 50% of the total payment.

Still, it’s much higher than my usual earnings at the theater.

After the excitement subsided, I sighed audibly and stepped into the shower.

With no more promotional interviews or photoshoots scheduled for Princess of Cosmos , it truly felt like the end of that chapter.

As the water trickled over my shoulders, a faint smile crossed my face, and thoughts of Ji-yong and the rest of the cast drifted through my mind.

Perhaps our paths would intersect again in another project, another story waiting to be told. Who knew?

Days passed without incident—or so I thought.

Life seemed to have returned to normal. But not exactly.

People started to notice me on the street; some even asked for autographs and photos.

I felt proud but a little weird at the same time.

It’s not like I’m a hero or anything; I’m still the same old Yumi who loves tteokbokki above all else and uses old T-shirts as pajamas.

And then Ji-yong’s face started popping into my mind at the most inconvenient moments, like during a grocery run or while folding laundry.

I recalled his silly jokes and his laughter.

Before I knew it, I found myself, against my better judgment, glued to the internet, diving headfirst into an abyss of Ji-yong’s content.

I rewatched his old dramas, dove into ancient interviews where he talked about existential topics like the best way to eat ramen, and even caught snippets of him goofing around on variety shows.

As I delved deeper into Ji-yong’s world, two things became evident: he was so strikingly handsome that it felt almost unreal, and... I missed him. A lot. Unreasonably so. How did this happen? Was I becoming one of his obsessed fans? What an unsettling thought!