Page 17 of Wish Upon a K-Star

T wo days later, I’m at my engagement photo shoot.

A part of me still has misgivings about this plan.

Working with a celebrity as big as Minseok, and on a show like Our Celebrity Marriage , sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.

I remember what it was like when rumors spread that I was dating a producer on CiPro —it was the most uncomfortable I’d been with any rumor. And now I have to be on a show where I literally pretend to marry someone? And Minseok of all people? I’d rather eat dirt.

Hongjoo seems tense too, though she’s pretending really hard that it’s another normal schedule. But I can tell she thinks this is important. So, I promise myself that I’ll do my best; even if Minseok annoys me, I won’t react to it. I’ll be professional. I’ll be perfect. I will make sure I don’t waste this chance.

The shoot is being held at one of those engagement-photo studios, which sets off a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. They flutter angrily as I look at the different sets. One has an ivory upholstered settee in front of gold-embossed wallpaper, with bouquets spilling over stone planters on either side. Another set is designed to look like a gourmet chef’s kitchen with rustic wooden accents. And still another is a dark and moody library study.

I vaguely remember engagement photos are a thing in the US, but they never seemed that big of a deal. In Korea, weddings and the trappings around them always seem so much more elaborate, so much more heightened. And I’m already nervous trying to emulate that amount of extra properly for the viewers.

“Shin Hyeri-ssi.” A set assistant hurries up with a tablet in hand. “Let’s get you in your first outfit.”

She leads me to a back room. There’s not much space to move because there’s two racks of white and cream clothes in here. It looks so…bridal. And I feel my stomach churning more.

I turn to Hongjoo. “Are you sure this is okay? Won’t people think I’m too young to be on this show?”

“You’re nineteen,” Hongjoo reminds me. “You started college this year.”

“Started college” is a little generous. I’ve been on set more than I’ve been in class. But one thing fans always seemed to like about me was that I was a great student in high school, so my agency thought it would help my image to enroll.

I nod, knowing Hongjoo would never make me do something that was bad for me or my career. “Okay, I can do this.”

“Why don’t I go grab you something to drink, it’ll help calm your nerves.”

“No caffeine,” I call after her as she steps out. Then I turn to the assistant. “What’s the first outfit?”

She holds up a cream-colored skirt suit with a lace overlay design and a cropped jacket. It doesn’t look too bridal. So, I take my deep breaths, relaxing myself zone by zone. This isn’t that bad. I can’t believe I’m so nervous; it’s not like I haven’t done a dozen photo shoots before.

I reach for the outfit when the assistant pulls back to press her finger to her earpiece. She’s frowning as she listens. “Moonster is? When?” she asks, and my whole body tenses.

Ah, that’s why this is all so uncomfortable. Of course I’d be stressed in anticipation of doing this with him. Pretending like we get along. Like we’re more than happy to play pretend marriage together.

I press a finger to my temple, fighting back a headache.

“Sorry, looks like the order of the shoot is changing.” The assistant puts the outfit back. “Moonster is running late, so we’ll have to do your solo shoots first.”

He’s already being a nuisance and he’s not even on set yet.

The assistant pulls out two options. One is a sweet sundress in a pastel pink, with a flowing skirt and spaghetti straps. It’s something I’d pick to wear out with friends (if I had any). The other is another lacy number, but unlike the conservative skirt suit, it’s skintight and so sheer I might as well be half-naked. It’s way too wedding-night-lingerie style, and I immediately start to gesture to the pink sundress when the photographer comes in.

Mr. Lee has long limbs that jut out and weirdly remind me of the legs of a spider. His nose is sharp and his eyes large, almost bug-like, adding even more to the spider comparisons. And he leers. I’m not sure if he just does it with me, or with everyone, but it’s always creeped me out a little. He did a few shoots for Helloglow, and even in that group setting he made me slide just a millimeter toward discomfort.

“Ah, Hyeri-ya, so good to see you again.” He leans in and kisses both of my cheeks. Something he probably thinks makes him seem European. But as he leaves a small trace of saliva, I resist the urge to wipe my face.

He smells like tobacco and cinnamon gum.

“It’s good to see you again, Jakanim,” I lie.

“So, we’re doing your solo shoots.” Mr. Lee reaches for the lacy number and holds it up. “This will go perfectly with the aesthetic we’ve set up for you.”

I stare at the pseudo-lingerie. I can’t wear this. We’re trying to save my image, not completely demolish it. I’m all for sex-positive images of women, but I know that I will get immediate blowback if I’m the one trying it. I have to play it safe.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “Maybe we could try the dress first?”

But Mr. Lee yanks it out of my reach and throws it over his shoulder. It falls over the rack. He shoves the lingerie at me, the hanger poking into my chest.

“Go ahead and change so we can make sure it fits.”

“What?” I glance at the flimsy changing screen. Usually, I’m not shy. But I’m most often only changing with my core team around. I don’t want to get practically naked with this man in the room. “Jakanim, are you sure this is the right look?”

“We’ve already discussed a theme that revolves around this outfit.” He leers at the lace number cradled in my arms. Which means he’s also leering at my chest.

“Really?” I ask desperately. “What’s the theme again?”

“Bridal chic,” Mr. Lee says, spreading his palms out like he’s presenting a grand idea.

I glance at the assistant, who clearly looks uncomfortable. She must also think that’s a bunch of bull. This outfit is in no way chic.

“I just don’t know.…” I trail off pathetically as the assistant and Mr. Lee send me narrowed looks. Do they think I’m being difficult? “It’s just that I’m not sure if this outfit gives that vibe.”

“I personally vetted the outfits,” Mr. Lee insists, his leer turning into a glower. “Are you saying you don’t trust my creative vision here?”

“What?” I’m starting to sweat. Is it ruining my foundation? “Of course not, I was just hoping to discuss it more.…”

Mr. Lee shakes his head. “That will delay the schedule. We’re already behind.” He glances expectantly at his watch. “Go get changed.” He crosses his arms and it’s clear that he intends to wait here for me.

I start to turn toward the screen, my eyes shifting to the door. Where is Hongjoo? If she was here, I’d have backup. I look again at the assistant, who’s doing everything she can to avoid my gaze. There will be no help there. I sigh and start to accept my fate when the door opens.

I turn desperately, hoping for Hongjoo.

Instead, Minseok bursts into the room. “I wasn’t the one who made us late.”

“You know how much he’s dealing with right now, cut him some slack,” Hanbin is saying. He looks harried and annoyed.

They both stop short as they look around. “Oh, sorry,” Hanbin says, stepping forward to shake hands with the photographer. “We must be in the wrong dressing room.”

“No, it’s fine,” Mr. Lee says. “You’re right next door. We can shift back to the couple shoot, then, since Moonster-ssi is here.” He calls for another assistant, directing them to reset the equipment.

“Do you have snacks here?” Minseok is asking, plopping down on a chair.

Minseok and his team are a whirlwind; everyone is paying attention to him. But for the first time in a long time, I’m relieved he’s here. Because if everyone’s paying attention to him, they’re no longer focusing on me.

I take the hanger with the objectionable outfit and shove it into the middle of the clothing rack, trying to hide it in the folds of a voluminous gown.

Ten minutes later, I’m in a simple sundress layered with a loose thick-knit cardigan. It’s a bit warm out for a sweater, but after the last clash over outfits, I refuse to bring up another objection.

We’re led to a garden set and I’m directed to sit on a swing bench. A set assistant carefully arranges my skirt so it artfully splays out, while Minseok is placed behind like he’s pushing me.

“Okay, grab onto the chain, Moonster-ssi.”

Minseok does as directed, but he yanks the chain too hard, and I almost go toppling over. I clamp my teeth tight, a cage to hold in the angry words I want to snap at Minseok. Instead, I try to fix the lay of my dress again.

We feel so out of sync. Maybe this is a sign that this was a bad idea.

“Can we begin?” Mr. Lee calls out, annoyance clear in his voice.

I look up to realize he’s staring at me, like the delays are all my fault even though Minseok was the one who was a half hour late. But I just nod meekly and try to settle back on the bench.

“No! Don’t slouch!”

I straighten myself, embarrassed at being chastised twice in quick succession.

“Moonster-ssi, maybe try to soften your expression?” I try not to notice how much kinder the suggestions are when directed at Minseok.

“Okay, now Moonster-ssi, sit with Hyeri.” He does, but he’s all the way on the other side of the swing, a wide space between us.

“Hyeri, can you please try to act like you like him? Why are you so far away?”

I blink in disbelief. Minseok is the one who chose his position on the swing. I haven’t even moved.

But I bite down on my lip and my complaints and scoot closer. Minseok is stiff as a board. When I try to lean into him, he just sits there. It feels like trying to pose with a statue.

“Hyeri, it still looks too unnatural. Can you try putting your head on his shoulder?”

It wouldn’t be so unnatural if Minseok would pull the stick out of his a— No, I have to calm down. I can’t let him get to me. I have no idea what’s gotten into Minseok, but I refuse to let his attitude make me do any less than my best.

I lean in to rest my head on his shoulder. He doesn’t even attempt to adjust his posture to accommodate me, so the extreme angle strains my neck. Even so, I am determined to obey every directive like I’m the most agreeable model in the world.

“Moonster-ssi, arm around Hyeri, please?”

He does, but so roughly that his hand disrupts the carefully placed curls along my collar.

I try to fluff them again, but he’s crushing them with his closed fist.

“Can you relax?” I mutter.

“Just pose for the photo. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

I gape up at him. “Are you serious?”

“This is not playtime, Hyeri. Can you save your conversations for after the shoot?” Mr. Lee says.

“Yeah, can we get this done?” Minseok says loudly enough for the entire crew to hear.

I’m shocked enough to lean away from him, but his arm is still tight around my shoulders, unyielding. And the motion instead pushes the swing out from under us. We both go toppling down into the dirt.

Hongjoo hurries over to help me up, but it’s too late. Dirt and grass stains mar the soft pastel colors of my skirt.

“Great! Now we’ll have to take a break for an outfit change.” Mr. Lee shouts. He shoves his camera into the arms of his assistant. “Everyone, be back in fifteen exactly!” He storms off.

I start to ask Minseok what his issue is, but he’s already striding quickly off set.

I chase after him to give him a piece of my mind.

He’s already in his dressing room by the time I catch up, but I grab the door before it closes.

“What the hell is your problem?” I demand.

“Can you give me privacy to change?”

“Can you get over whatever has crawled up your—” I break off when he gives me a warning glare. But I still don’t fully back down. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but can you just suck it up for one hour?”

“I’m not in the mood today.” He sounds exhausted. It breaks past my anger for a second, making me hesitate. I’ve never seen him look so defeated before. I almost ask what’s wrong. But I stop myself. We don’t have that kind of relationship.

“I don’t want to be here right now,” Minseok says. “So, let’s just get this over with.”

I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me. Dry and acrid. “And you think I want to be here?”

“I didn’t say that. You’re putting words in my mouth.” He suddenly sounds so angry, but I know I haven’t done anything to warrant this vitriol from him.

“Fine. You don’t want to be here and neither do I.” I can’t believe I need to work so hard for his cooperation right now. If this plan doesn’t help smooth over the latest scandal, I’m fairly certain Bright Star is ready to drop me. I can’t let that happen, so I need Minseok to snap out of his mood. “We’re both stuck. That doesn’t mean we have to make it worse for each other. Even prisoners have social agreements between them, right?”

“Wow.” Minseok sounds incredulous. “Things must be really bad for you to think of yourself as a prisoner.”

“Like you care how bad things are.” He’s really starting to annoy me. Why can’t he just agree to cooperate for a few hours? “Why did you even agree to do this if you were just going to complain the whole time?”

Minseok shrugs. “I’m here, aren’t I? Ready to help fix your image.”

“Kaeppul.” I mutter the curse under my breath. “You don’t care about my image. You’re doing this because the festival accident made you look bad too, and WDB is no longer scandal-proof.”

Minseok’s eyes darken. Something I said must have struck a nerve. “I’m not the one constantly caught up in rumors. Maybe I should just leave. Maybe it’ll force you to finally grow up and deal with your own shit instead of using it as an excuse to be a brat.”

The way he says it sounds like he really does think all the scandals are my fault. Like he believes they could be true. It hurts more than anything the gossip articles or anti-fans could do or say to me.

“Wow, okay,” I say slowly, my throat constricting so my voice barely scratches out. “I didn’t know you felt that way.” I move toward the door, but he shifts to block.

Minseok shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“No, you’re totally right,” I say. “I’ll deal with my shit. But don’t get in my way while I’m doing it.”

“Hyeri, please.”

In this moment, if he says anything else I might burst into tears. So, I forgo politeness and push past him to shove out the dressing room door.