Chapter 11.1

Chapter 11.1

With an intense gaze that seemed to pierce through her soul, Miran shuddered and froze. For some unknown reason, the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

She clasped her hands together and fidgeted—a habit she had when she was nervous. Her knuckles turned white, and her lips quivered, but she stood her ground with all her might, enduring the heavy stare.

‘Why do I have to do this?’

A sudden surge of sadness brought tears to her eyes. If she couldn’t even withstand this, she’d never muster the courage to bare herself in front of the countless staff on set. Swallowing dryly, she forced out a voice that was stuck in her throat.

“I help you, you help me. Okay?”

The man stared at her with a cold, unreadable expression. When he finally said, “Okay,” in his calm, deep voice, Miran’s knees buckled, and she had to brace herself on the table.

She was more nervous than she had been during the audition, her palms sweaty. Relief, anticipation, and anxiety mingled, making her heart race.

Miran searched her mind for words to form an English sentence, but even the words she knew seemed to have evaporated. As the silence stretched between them, sweat formed on her forehead.

The man watched her with an air of patience, arms crossed as if he had all the time in the world. His confident, almost arrogant demeanor made her feel even smaller.

‘Whatever, let’s just get this over with.’

With her limited English, a normal conversation was impossible. She mixed Korean and English as she asked him,

“You lost your bag, so no money now?”

His thick eyebrows twitched, and he gave a slight nod.

“Then, two beers here. My treat. And, I give you 30,000 won. If you help me. Okay?”

Miran made a circle with her thumb and forefinger. The man slowly stood up. Her head tilted back, and her eyes widened as she took in his towering height—he was as tall as a basketball player.

“Okay.”

He answered curtly, looking down at her with his sharp nose.

For the first time in her life, Miran felt small at 170 centimeters. She rarely had to look up at anyone. It was a novel experience, not being able to see past someone’s broad shoulders.

“Fighting Kang Miran! You have to tell me everything later!”

Jieun shouted from behind. Without turning around, Miran waved her off, signaling for her to be quiet.

“Follow me.”

Miran pointed to the counter. The man hoisted a huge duffle bag off the floor and followed her.

After paying at the counter, they left Cactus. After paying for the beers and offering 30,000 won for his help with her script, Miran had barely 10,000 won left.

Though she had never been to a guesthouse or motel, she knew that wasn’t enough. Besides, such places felt sleazy to her.

In the middle of Itaewon, having made a difficult decision, she tugged at his sleeve again.

“Excuse me. Go to my house, okay?”

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and nodded.

“Okay.”

It was his third “Okay.”

–

Listening to the bus announcements, Miran leaned her forehead against the cold window. She wished she could just bang her head and pretend to faint.

“Sigh. You’re crazy, Kang Miran. How could you do something so reckless…?”

Muttering to herself, she stared out the window, sneaking glances at the man’s reflection. Other passengers on the bus to Poidong also stole glances at the tall, well-built foreigner. It wasn’t common to see a foreigner on this route.

The man was dressed neatly in a light blue button-down shirt and chino pants. However, with his short back and sides and longer top—a typical military haircut—and a sturdy-looking olive duffle bag at his feet, he looked unmistakably like an American soldier on leave.