Page 20 of Wish Upon a K-Star

“O kay, this is a good start. The company sounds like they’re happy with this.” Hongjoo is pleased, I can tell by the way she taps the steering wheel in excitement.

I look at the article on my phone.

Like many of the others I’ve seen, this one doesn’t use any of the carefully posed shots from the photo shoot, but a candid from the end of the conference. Minseok and I are looking at each other, soft smiles on our faces. If I didn’t know the exact anxiety parade that was streaming through my brain at that moment, I’d think I was enamored with Minseok. And it doesn’t help that both of his hands softly cradle mine. Something I hadn’t realized at the time.

The photo looks sweet, like we really do get along.

So, I suppose this is all working out so far. If I can keep this up.

But that’s a big if , as my stomach is already rolling like a monsoon as I sit in the van waiting to be called to set.

It’s an outside shoot for the “first meeting.” An important episode because it sets the tone for each couple, so they’re often set in iconic romantic areas around the city. But ours will be a little different, since we already know each other.

We’re at the playground outside our old trainee dorms, where Minseok and I both lived when we first came to Seoul. A strange flood of memories assaults me. This is where I lived when I still thought being an idol was all I ever wanted. When I couldn’t see anything except for the desire to debut.

Looking back, I feel foolish for how I thought debuting would solve everything. How I thought it would fix my anxiety, my relationship with my mother. How I thought it would finally make me happy. I gave up everything to succeed. My old friends back home. Studying. Any chance at making new friends in Seoul.

But even though I succeeded in debuting, it all feels wrong. It would be easy to blame Citizen Producer and my scandals, but there’s this gut-deep unsettling sensation that I started to get about three months before the show even started. Something that I was too scared to tell anyone about.

I was so certain that if I told my company I’d had doubts about going on the show, it would ruin my chances of ever debuting with them. And I’d have to find a completely new company and start over. At sixteen I hadn’t been “old” yet, but I didn’t want to risk any delays. I wanted every advantage I could get to ensure I debuted.

So, I buried it even deeper and pushed forward.

Seeing the playground with its bright plastic slides and orange metal railings, nostalgia fills me. Gray metal exercise equipment sits on the far side, mostly used by the older residents early in the mornings. I’d see them huffing on the mechanical elliptical or bar press when I left at dawn for the practice rooms.

There’s a giant teddy bear in front of the main slide with a giant bow on it. I roll my eyes at the corniness of the gesture. But I know this is par for the course for variety shows.

David hurries up as I climb out of the car, Jeongho trailing behind. I say hi to him and he gives me a nervous nod. I wonder if his awkwardness is because he’s seen the articles. I wonder if he thinks they’re true.

But I tell myself he’s probably just nervous because he’s new. Plus, the company has a strict policy that staff cannot be fans of the artists. He could get fired if he fawned all over me.

David comes over and air-kisses me. I remind myself that at least I have him. He doesn’t care about showing preferential treatment—the benefit of being so in demand in this industry.

“You didn’t have to come,” I tell him. “I know you’re too busy to attend all of my schedules.”

“I wanted to be here for your first shoot,” he says. And even though he doesn’t mention it, I know he’s worried about me.

It both comforts me and makes me feel like a burden.

“Thank you.” My voice cracks a bit, and I hate myself for letting my emotions get the best of me. I should be better at this by now.

But, for his part, David skillfully ignores it, letting me have my moment without any embarrassment. Instead, he pulls out a can of hairspray and spritzes it over my head in a light mist. “I’m glad we went with the simple pony. The humidity is deathly today.” He smiles. “I saw the press conference. You did well.”

I want to ask if he really means it. I’m still not sure it went that well. Despite the mostly positive articles, there are still a few saying that I hid behind Minseok when it came to the midsummer festival incident. Though there were far fewer than I thought there’d be.

“Don’t worry. This is all going to blow over. Just keep being your sweet self,” David says with an encouraging wink.

“Thanks.” I try to hold on to the comfort his smile gives me. To not let it dissipate too quickly as I turn toward the set and the waiting crew.

The main PD walks over to greet me. He’s short, only a few inches taller than me, with an avuncular face framed by big square glasses. “Hyeri-ssi, looking forward to working with you.”

“It’s an honor, Han-PD,” I say with a bow, and I mean it. Han-PD is the most successful variety show producer on HBS.

As an assistant starts pinning my mic, Han-PD goes over the shoot. This is just the meet-and-greet scene. I listen intently even though I’ve read the pages for today over and over. Not having some kind of script makes me nervous, so I wanted to be as prepared as possible. I haven’t gone on this kind of variety show since Helloglow broke up. The kind with vague missions that depend almost entirely on the participants’ personalities to provide entertainment. I’m not sure if I’m enough all on my own to be interesting without some kind of script to follow.

Calm down, Hyeri , I tell myself. This show would not have cast you if people weren’t interested in seeing you on it .

But what if Bright Star pressured the production to cast me? What if they dangled Minseok in front of them, and they wanted a member of WDB so badly they were willing to take me on as extra baggage? Isn’t that the unofficial narrative of my whole career? I supposedly coasted into K-pop on my oppa’s coattails. And now I’m doing it here with Minseok and this variety show. It’s a path I’m stuck on no matter what I do to try to escape it.

“Hyeri-ssi?”

I look up to see Han-PD and the staff all staring at me. Obviously waiting for me to do something.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I glance at Hongjoo, who grimaces. Great, I’m already making mistakes.

“I asked if you’re ready to start rolling,” asks Han-PD.

“Sorry, yes, I am.” I take my position, waiting intently for the signal.

“Can you do the clapper for the cameras?”

“Oh, yes.” I almost curse myself out under my breath, but I’m careful not to, as I’m mic’d. I clap my hands, but it’s weak and sloppy. And in my nervous state I clap again to make up for it.

“Ah, can you go again? Just one clap this time.” Han-PD isn’t unkind when he says it, but I think I see some snickers from the crew.

I clap again, this time succeeding in getting it in one go.

Embarrassed at messing up already, I hurry over to the bear. There’s a giant envelope in its hands with a heart on it and I open it and read the message.

It’s up and down.

Add the numbers of home.

Don’t forget the strawberry milk.

It’s a riddle, but clearly meant to send me on a mission to find Minseok.

I didn’t realize I’d have to solve puzzles. Without anyone to help me.

“Um, Hyeri-ssi? Can you do or say something?” Han-PD calls out, and I realize I’ve just been standing here rereading the riddle quietly to myself.

I mentally berate myself for messing up again so quickly.

“Sorry.” I bow low in apology to the entire crew. I am not making a good first impression at all. “I’ll start over.”

“No, it’s okay, just start at your current mark and read the message aloud. Let us know what you think about it. Just talk us through your process, okay?” Han-PD sounds like a teacher explaining a very simple activity and I’m so embarrassed.

The staff is all watching me like I’m a complete rookie. Which we all know isn’t true. I should be better at this by now. They all probably think the rumors are true, that I’m a total flop who’s been helped along this whole time.

I clear my throat and read the message.

“It’s a riddle, right? To find Minseok-sunbae? Wait, am I supposed to say his name or should I pretend I don’t know it’s him?”

Han-PD sighs before he answers this time. Definitely annoyed with me. “You can know it’s him. Your segment is different because you were already announced.”

“Ah, okay. Sorry.” I bow again and I can see Hongjoo out of the corner of my eye covering her face with her hands.

“Um, yeah, so it’s a riddle. I’m not that great with riddles,” I admit trying to keep my voice steady, hoping that this is usable material for the production team. I don’t want to be fired before I even finish one episode. “So up and down.” I look around and then walk over to the seesaw and examine it. I’m hoping for another clue, or maybe an arrow pointing me in the right direction. Nothing. “Okay, that’s not right.”

I walk to the swings. “These go up and down, right?” I say aloud for the cameras even though I feel like my commentary is less than useless. “Or is that more back and forth?” I want to just ask for a clue, but I know it’s way too soon and I’m scared of annoying the production team more.

Finally, I see Hongjoo gesturing toward the apartment complex, then lifting and lowering her hand like a platform.

I squint in confusion. What is she trying to mime? She’s mouthing something. Sell a gator ? Mel Vader ? No…“Elevator!” I practically shout, and see the sound technician wince as he lifts his headphones. I lower my voice and spin to face the building. “The elevator goes up and down.”

I hurry to it and one of the mobile cameramen follows me. The doors are unlocked for us, and I push inside. I press the call button for the elevator, and it opens immediately, like it was waiting for us.

Inside is a small bag. I grab it and see two strawberry milk cartons inside.

“Okay. This is good.” I turn to the buttons and realize I have no idea which floor to pick. “Um, do you know which one it is?” I ask the cameraman before I realize I probably shouldn’t be talking to him.

He lifts a brow and looks pointedly at the message still gripped in my hand.

“Oh right, the clues. I told you I wasn’t good at this.” I look at the paper, now completely crinkled in my nervous fists. “I already have the up and down. And I have the strawberry milk. So, it must be ‘adding the numbers of home.’ Numbers of home?”

What’s a home number? A phone number? No, I don’t think I’m meant to expose my phone number on national television.

“Maybe a unit number?” I say aloud, and the cameraman lifts his brows again. A silent prompt. It must be right. Or maybe he’s just reacting to my total stupidity. Well, I have nothing else to try, so I add the numbers of my apartment in my head. It gives me ten. I start to press that number when I hesitate. Wait, this doesn’t feel right. Something is off here. I almost pull out my phone and just call Hongjoo to ask for her help. But I know I shouldn’t give up so easily. I just have to be logical.

“This is about when we first met, right?” I ask the cameraman. And he doesn’t say anything, but he does move his eyes up and down. Like miming a nod.

“So, when we first met, the apartment I lived in…” It was unit 1829. And those numbers all added up come to twenty. The roof.

I press the button for the top floor. It feels right. Either way, I can’t just keep running around alone. I need Minseok. And I hate to admit that, but right now, I am desperate.

The doors open and I race through them, the bag of strawberry milk banging against my stomach as I practically sprint for the staircase leading to the roof. I hurry up the stairs, taking them two at a time, not caring about being ladylike or demure.

I burst out to a scene of flowers gathered in a veritable garden. Minseok stands in the middle of the roof with a bouquet in his arms.

I hurry to him, barely registering the setup of cameras around him or the secondary crew. I’m just glad I’m no longer alone. I fling my arms around him. “I did it! I found you.”

He laughs and gives me a one-armed squeeze. “I’ve been waiting forever, Shin Hyeri. What have you been doing all alone? You trying to keep the camera time all for yourself?”

That gets a surprised laugh out of me as I say bluntly, “Don’t worry, most of the footage is me failing miserably. I hate riddles.”

“Well, the reward is worth it, right?”

He’s giving me one of his cocky grins and I have to use all of my willpower not to roll my eyes. “Depends on what my reward is.”

“Am I not reward enough?” I know he’s play-acting, but my heart does jump a bit at the words. So arrogant but still designed to make me blush.

“I thought this was my reward.” I hold up the bag of strawberry milk.

He laughs and says, “It’s my apology.”

Now I frown, too confused to hide my reaction. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t remember? The first time we met I spilled your strawberry milk on the playground. You cried.”

“I did not!” I protest even as the memory returns. He’s right. He did spill my strawberry milk.

I’d just had a horrible review where I was told I needed to start counting calories more. I was only thirteen and bitter about it. So, I’d purposefully taken the last strawberry milk in the trainee fridge even though it was all sugar. My private act of defiance. I’d set it on the ground next to the swings while I moped and Minseok was playing basketball with his friends. And when he missed a throw the ball slammed into my milk, spilling it everywhere. Pissed, I’d flown off those swings, yelling at him until angry tears fell down my cheeks.

“You did. I remember it and I always felt sorry for making you cry.” He lifts his hand, runs a thumb down my dry cheek like he wants to wipe up the memory of those angry tears. “Sorry my apology is so late.”

I can’t speak. My skin is still tingling from where his thumb touched, a trail of sparks that spin wildly like starbursts in my brain.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” I whisper, unsure what’s expected of me in this moment.

“How about officially forgiving me?”

I nod because it feels like the only thing to do now. And he grins, pulling me into his arms. “Great. Slate clean, right?”

I pull away from him. “You did way more to me than spill my strawberry milk. Are you going to make up for every little thing?”

He laughs as he holds out the flowers. “Let’s start with the milk and these.”

He plucks up one of the cartons, uses the disposable straw to stab it, and offers it to me. When I take it, he holds out his own for a toast. “To us.”

I nod and tap our cartons together. “To no more spilled milk.”