Oh shit. It’s Shin.
I hit answer, bracing myself for an awkward call.
“Hello? Min-hee? Where are you?” To my surprise, Shin doesn’t sound interrogative at all. He cuts to the chase, his voice full of energy, almost vibrating through the line. “You won’t believe this, but I just locked in the audition for an AAA project! It’s for a lead in a K-drama about a love triangle featuring Cha Eun-Woo and Song Kang.”
He adds after a beat, “This could be your big return!”
I take a breath, glancing down at Hondongi, who looks up at me with his puppy eyes, expecting another treat.
“…Uh… Yeah. About that… I’m in Jeju now.”
“In… Jeju?” Shin repeats, the question completely flat. It’s that signature voice of his—the one he uses when he wants to sound perfectly calm while everything around him burns.
“Yep, Jeju.”
“Okay.” He replies after a moment, seeming to process the news. “And how long will you stay there?”
“For a while… I think… I need to find my mom.”
“Your mom… huh…” his voice shifts, measuring how sensitive this topic is for me.
“Yeah. So um… I’m sorry about that audition. I won’t make it.”
“Okay,” he repeats. “Are you… really going to stay there for a while?”
“Yeah… and… I think I really need to take a break from the spotlight. I’m sorry… Could you tell the agency this? You know, a hiatus, like a year or two after a big scandal.”
“Yes, but your name has been cleared up, so you could return earlier. You are not at fault.”
“I know, but I want to do this… for myself…”
“Okay,” he says for the third time, after a long pause. I know he wants to say something else, but he chooses not to. Then he adds, “Well… take care of yourself, Min-hee. I’ll handle the agency. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Shin,” I whisper, then turn the phone off.
The airport corner falls silent around me again, wide and empty. Hondongi sits calmly in his carrier, tail giving a tiny, tentative wag.
Right. Jeju.The real work starts now.
I grab the handle of his carrier and my duffel and head toward the taxi stand, asking for a hotel near a black sand beach that allows dogs.
***
The driver pulls up to a small, unassuming pension-style hotel near a black sand beach—a detail that catches my attention immediately, echoing my aunt’s clue. I decide on the spot to stay here for a couple of days. I need a quiet base of operations before I start my blind search.
The room is small, clean, and smells faintly of sea salt and lemon disinfectant. I set Hondongi’scarrier down, finally releasing him. He doesn’t bolt or bark; instead, he trots straight to the window, sniffing the thick, sea-heavy air that seeps through the poorly sealed frame.
I walk to the balcony, the stone cool under my feet, and look out. The sun is sinking, and the black sand beach below glistens. The waves roll in, gentle and relentless.This place is real. This life is real.It has nothing to do with scripts or ratings or headlines. I clutch my analogue camera, ready to see the world as it is.
I don’t take a picture yet, though. Instead, I sink onto the bed, letting the silence fill my ears.
Then the screen of my phone lights up again.
This time, it’s Suho.
I stare at the name for a full five seconds.
Suho.
