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Chapter 2
THE THUNDEROUS DRUMS OF THE OPENING CREDITSmatch the pounding of my heart as the screen lights up with the opening credits ofFated Destiny. I’ve heard the theme song before, but I never realized how anxiety-provoking the epic orchestral song is until now. The flute solo, which seemed beautiful before, now sounds shrill in my ears. And the harp-like twangs of the gayageum make the hair rise from the back of my neck.
I watch painted portraits of my costars come to life and bleed into short clips of footage in time with the music. When my face appears, Mom and Dad clap enthusiastically, making me smile. Thankfully, they don’t seem like they find the opening unpleasant at all.
Probably just my nerves, I think.
Hopefully my parents’ energy will last for the entire episode.
Once the credits show all of the main cast members, the screen fades into a shot of Bryan and me staring lovingly at each other from across the lake at the Royal Palace. I still remember how cold it was when we shot that moment, but I’m glad it turned out to be the perfect closer to the opening credits.
I write a quick tweet to my followers.Hope everyone enjoys the premiere!
As I’m typing, messages of congratulations from my classmates pop up on the top of my screen. One of the perks of going to a performing arts high school where lots of kids are actors and singers working in the industry like me is that I can take a break from normal classes when I’m working on a show. But the other really great perk is the community. My classmates and I have this tradition where we all watch everyone’s shows and music videos the day they premiere and cheer each other on. I hit send on my tweet and make a mental note to thank everyone at the end of the show.
Before I put my phone away, I scroll through the notifications and find myself looking for Minjee’s name. But of course, she’s not there. Why would she watchFated Destinyand cheer me on when I landed the lead part in the show and she didn’t?
Park Minjee was the first friend I made when I moved to Seoul. We’d always hang out after class, even though, onstage, we were fierce rivals, always vying for lead roles in school plays. With how competitive we were with each other, everyone thought we were mortal enemies, but that couldn’t havebeen farther from the truth. We were best friends. That is, until I startedFated Destiny.
Mom laughs, bringing my attention back to our show’s premiere. By then, we’re well past the exposition, which introduced Hyun, Bryan’s character, as just your regular high school student in Korea. I have to give it to Bryan. For someone who didn’t start off as an actor, he isreallygood. Whether he’s sitting bored in class, daydreaming about life after high school, or playing soccer with his friends, Bryan’s acting immerses me into Hyun’s everyday life.
One of my theater teachers back at school always said that a sure sign of a good actor is when you forget their character isn’t a real person at all. I’m definitely experiencing that as I watch Bryan in the show. Even though I know what he’s actually like, I find myself smiling and laughing along with my parents as Hyun jokes around with his friends or epically fails to correctly answer the teacher when he gets called on in class.
And then, I’m on-screen, at this point just a female classmate that Hyun has a crush on. It’s always wild to see myself on TV. When you’re painstakingly filming every scene shot by shot, you only have a vague idea of how your part fits in with other people’s takes. And it’s so easy to get caught up in that microscopic view when, in reality, you’re only one small part of a much bigger thing.
I used to hate watching myself on TV. I’d spot every little thing I’d done wrong. A misplaced step, or a weird inflection of my voice. I’d feelreallyself-conscious. But now, I actuallykind of like it. It’s nice to see how I fit into the overall show, and how I interact with the other actors. And the more I see myself act, the more I know how to improve.
The episode runs like a typical slice-of-life show until a little over halfway through, when Hyun gets into a car accident. In slow motion and from multiple angles in typical K-drama fashion, the crash plays out on-screen, accompanied by the thunderous music from the opening credits. This time, instead of being nervous about our show, the music makes me anxious about Hyun, even though I know he’s going to be okay. As he’s escorted to the hospital in the present day, the show goes back in time through different eras of Korean history as Hyun remembers his past lives.
Aside from the TV, our living room is entirely silent. I sneak a glance at my parents to see how they’re reacting to the show. They look pretty engrossed, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I worried that the flashbacks were too cheesy in the familiar way that all K-dramas are, but maybe I’m just jaded because I was one of the many actors getting in and out of clothes from different eras of Korean history to create that time-traveling effect.
The rapid montage of scenes stops in the Joseon Dynasty period, where we get our first full glimpse of me in my crown princess robes. Immediately, my phone blows up again. People are tweeting to say how beautiful I look in my hanbok. My parents cheer, too, and I’m glad. No one says I look awkward, and no one says I look out of place.
Suck it, imposter syndrome.I scroll through my notifications again.
The episode soon ends on a cliffhanger, a close-up shot of Hyun’s shocked eyes as he wakes up back in his hospital room. The credits roll, accompanied by a soulful theme song by IU, and that’s it. The premiere’s over.
I glance back at my parents and see that they’re still staring at the screen. When they notice my gaze on them, though, they immediately turn to look at me.
I wait for them to say something, but there’s nothing but silence.
“Well?” I say. Nervous anticipation floods my thoughts. My throat feels like it’s closing up as I wait for my parents to say something,anything.
Mom, of course, is the first to speak. Dad doesn’t even try to say anything, but he shares Mom’s concerned look.
“Congratulations on the premiere, honey! That was great!” she says. Her voice comes out so forced that I don’t have to be an actress to know she’s lying. “How do you feel?”
“Yes,” Dad says. “You did a very good job.”
I whip my attention back to Dad. Things must bereallybad ifhe’sspeaking up.
“Okay, guys, spill,” I reply. “Just tell me the truth already. What’s wrong?”
Mom and Dad exchange looks, and after a long moment, Mom sighs.
“So, it was great....” she says. “But... maybe I’m notunderstanding things clearly.”
“Itwasconfusing,” Dad pipes in, earning a pointed look from Mom.
