Prologue

Hallyu Stories, Series 1

Author's note: For anyone coming from my previous series, just wanted to reset your expectations in case you're hoping for something in the same vein. This series is a much more lighthearted affair and G rated all the way, and is a bit of my own take on a Christmas rom-com (but hopefully marginally more memorable). Enjoy, and happy holidays!

Prologue: YEONG-SOO

"Where the hell have you been?" I say angrily into my headset after answering it in the middle of its first ring. In frustration I have to admit I'm practically shouting. Now, I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me, or about Koreans in general. I don't mean to be stereotypical, but it is true that in general as a country we don't lose our temper that easily, and stifling our emotions is second nature by the time we graduate from elementary school. But in my head I've been ticking off my list of grievances from the past twenty four hours on a continuous loop ever since I got off the plane, and I must be on at least the thousandth iteration by now.

First, being driven straight to the airport in Seoul after an exhausting six month shoot.

Second, a ten and a half hour flight to Seattle that became fifteen hours due to a delay at the gate for an hour and a half and then on the tarmac for another two hours before even taking off.

Third, completely unable to sleep a wink due to the incessant fidgeting of the middle-aged lady sitting next to me who, despite being in first class, had, apparently, never seen a celebrity before and kept trying to strike up a conversation, and was not taking any of my not-so-subtle hints that FOR GOD'S SAKE I JUST WANT TO SLEEP whatsoever.

Fourth, the few times that she did leave me alone, she was either asleep and snoring (I never knew women could snore so loudly) or eating noisily (crunchy snacks on overnight flights should be forbidden).

Fifth, a three hour layover before the flight to Minneapolis, and, sixth, as luck would have it, stuck sitting next to THE SAME LADY on my second flight, another three and a half hours of trying to avoid her persistent attempts at inane conversation.

And seventh, on top of all of that annoyance, having to maintain my pristine K-drama heartthrob lead actor persona and reputation and having to smile politely through it all: absolutely cool, calm, collected, handsome, charming -- the perfect gentleman of all your romantic K-drama dreams. Wink! (Aishhhh!)

So, anyway, yes, I'm near the absolute end of my rope, and at the end of every one of those thousand times I've gone through that list, I've been left wondering two things. One, if I should have spent that 150,000 US dollars to hire a private jet. But of course even in my frustration I still can't justify what would be the entire year's salary for a whole household (even though I know many other celebrities could and would do just that). But more to the point, second, why in the world Director Kang would want to be shooting a series in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the winter in a remote part of the US.

Only the prospect of the usual VIP treatment at the other end had gotten me through the interminable flights, and for once I'd found I was actually looking forward to the customary and utterly predictable routine: being greeted by a professional handler from the production staff, whisked away quickly and efficiently to the best possible hotel where I could finally eat a decent meal, take a long, hot shower, and refresh my memory of the script and the shooting schedule before being picked up promptly the following morning and driven to the film site for a catch-up meeting with the director and some of the cast and crew over lunch and continuing into the afternoon.

But of course, this would have to be the one and only time in years where nothing goes predictably and according to plan. When I got to Minneapolis, there was no handler from production to greet me. Called my assistant. No response. Called the producer's contact. No response. Called my agent. (No, Mr. Ahn, I did not know it was 4:30 in the morning there, and, no, I don't #$%^&* care!!!) He had no idea what was going on, but would make some calls and call me back. That was more than two hours ago, and I have a strong suspicion he just went back to sleep. (I should have fired him years ago!) Called Yu-jin, my co-star (and girlfriend), who's been here working for a month already. No response. Out of desperation I even went as far as to call Director Kang on the personal number he'd given me, but no response there either. Not surprising that Yu-jin and Director Kang hadn't picked up, though, since they were most likely in the middle of shooting. I'd been so frustrated that I'd actually waited in line to pick up my luggage myself, bought a coffee and a shitty airport sandwich, withdrew some cash, and took the airport shuttle to the car rental, where I then waited in line for almost another full hour, arms crossed, sunglasses on, tapping my foot in its sleek pale gray Italian suede shoe with barely restrained impatience while checking my slim Rolex every other minute the entire time.

Finally, the worker there (he seems to be there entirely on his own) gets to me.

"Sorry for the wait. It's pretty busy with the holidays and everything. What can I do for you?"

He (Jay, going by his nametag) looks like he's straight out of college, which makes me groan inwardly, but he turns out to be reasonably competent. By this time I have no patience and just insist on their highest end sports car, fully aware that I'm being pompous and demanding.

"Sorry, we don't have a lot of selection right now," Jay says, peering at his computer monitor. "I have a Porsche convertible, is that okay?"

I nod curtly, but when he finds out I'm headed to a remote part of Wisconsin he looks a little doubtful.

"The roads in Wisconsin are pretty bad, especially in this weather. There are a lot of potholes even on the main roads, and off the highway some of the roads are pretty much just gravel and dirt, and there's supposed to be a storm coming in. Are you sure you wouldn't rather have, like, an SUV or maybe a --"

"The Porsche will be fine," I say shortly, just barely polite. "I need to get to where I'm going quickly, so I'd like a fast car. So if you wouldn't mind...?"

He hesitates, but I lower my glasses and give him my classic cold stare, a look that I've perfected over the years on screen and off. Seeing that I clearly am not going to budge, he finally gives up and nods, and, thank god, it isn't too much longer until finally I'm on the road and on my way. I actually don't know where in that town (apparently it's called Silver Falls) I'll be staying, but I figured that surely someone will finally call me back before I get there.

So given all of that, I think, all things considered, my response to my assistant's call is somewhat justified.

But instead of the litany of apologies I expect to be pouring into my ear from my assistant, an unfamiliar, somewhat surprised and confused voice responds to my outburst.

"Excuse me, Mr. Kim? My name is Ms. Seo, and I'm a nurse at the Seoul National Hospital."

I was just taking in a deep breath so I could chew out my assistant, but the torrent of words I was about to spew out into my phone gets stopped dead before I can even begin. Having to spin a complete 180, I literally almost choke as I simultaneously try to swallow my words and reorder my thoughts (while also not driving the car off the road), and I immediately feel guilty about being angry at my assistant and wonder what happened to him. Pausing half a second to cough and take in another breath, I then ask in a smooth rush (suave, mature, charming, with just the right amount of concern):

"I apologize. I've been worrying so much about my assistant since I hadn't heard from him. What's going on? What's happened to Assistant Park? Is he okay?"

Nurse Kim responds with understanding in her voice.

"Of course, Mr. Kim, you must have been so worried. Mr. Park was rushed to the hospital with a burst appendix about twenty four hours ago, and he's only just now been able to get in contact with you. He's asked me to let you know what happened, and he asked me to use his phone. Mobile phones are usually not permitted in this part of the hospital, but we had to make an exception, because he said you wouldn't answer it otherwise. I guess that's understandable, since you're such a famous actor and all," she says, a little girlish note creeping into her voice that up to now had been professional. I can picture her exactly in my mind. Mid-40's, I'd guess. Glasses. A little on the plain side, still unmarried so living at home, likes things that are pink, secretly devoted to teenager K-dramas, an obsession that her parents disapprove of.

"Yes, you're right. A million thanks for all your help. I'm sure you must be taking excellent care of Assistant Park," I say, still with that silky smooth, utterly masculine voice.

She titters and then collects herself. "Oh, yes, of course, Mr. Kim. As soon as he woke up, Mr. Park said he had to give you a call right away. He said you need this phone number. I have it right here."

It looks like there was a last minute change in the schedule and I was supposed to take a later flight, and my assistant was supposed to send them my updated flight info. She starts to read off the phone number of a different person on the production staff, but I ask her to text it to me instead.

"Mr. Park is still in the post operation recovery room, but in about an hour he'll be moved to," (there's a small pause, presumably as she consults something in front of her), "Room 215 if you need to get in touch. You won't be able to call his mobile phone there either, I'm afraid. Also!" she says, suddenly remembering, "Mr. Park said I should remind you to eat, since he says you forget sometimes."

I assure her that I'm fine and thank her again for all her help, and then give her a gracious and polite goodbye and hang up before she can start bugging me for an autograph or whatever.

I settle back in my seat and let the white noise of driving down the highway wash over me and calm me down. I was too annoyed before to turn on the radio, but I do so now, skipping around until I land on a random American pop music station. It's on a classic 80's song I recognize and I start humming along, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel a bit, my mood already gradually improving. I actually don't get to drive myself around that much these days, so I let myself enjoy the change, now that things are settling into place. I make some mental calculations. The town's about a three hour drive away from the airport, and although there was a lot of traffic around the city, the roads haven't been too jammed up since. The car handles like a dream, so even though I'm completely jet-lagged, I'm looking forward to the peace and quiet of the drive. I should have plenty of time to get there, call the production staff, and settle into the hotel since they weren't expecting me for another day. Things are definitely back on track. Finally!