Chapter 33: Once is Chance, Twice is Fate (2)
“Mom!” Kim Si-woo called, rushing out of his room after hearing Shim Ji-young was coming.
“What’s wrong? Why’re you yelling for me?” his mother asked.
“Nothing… I’m heading out for a bit.”
“Such a weirdo. Alright, go.”
After a quick shower, Si-woo stepped outside to wait for Shim Ji-young. Soon, a black van pulled up, and the door opened to reveal her staring at him oddly.
“What’s up? Why’re you out here?” she asked.
“Let’s talk at a café or in the car. My mom’s home, and I don’t want to get loud,” he said.
“Fair enough,” she agreed.
Relieved she was still rational, Si-woo relaxed, half-expecting a scolding smack upon arrival. “Hello, Manager-nim,” he greeted her manager.
“Hey, Writer-nim!” the manager replied.
Settling into the van, Si-woo suggested, “Noona, why not ask your manager’s opinion too?”
“Good idea,” Shim Ji-young nodded.
They parked in the apartment lot and dove into a serious discussion. Si-woo recounted the events starting from the night he, Shim Ji-young, and Kim Ji-hyun drank together.
“So, Ji-young unnie asked you to write ‘Don’t Forget’, and Ji-hyun begged for a role, but you refused. Then you offered her a cameo, and she rejected it?” the manager summarized.
“Yup,” Si-woo confirmed.
“Then she got drunk and made a scene with you,” she continued.
“Exactly!” he said.
“And you, feeling bad for a 21-year-old, went to her set to help, only to get chewed out?”
“Well, not chewed out exactly,” Si-woo clarified.
The manager clutched her chest in mock frustration.
“I get why unnie’s so exasperated. Writer-nim, you’re a grade-A pushover.”
“Right?”
Shim Ji-young chimed in, shaking her head.
“Writer-nim, do you… like Kim Ji-hyun? That’d explain it.”
The manager ventured.
“What? You like her?” Shim Ji-young gasped.
“What are you talking about?” Si-woo protested.
He explained it wasn’t about liking her—she was the first actress he’d cast, and she’d been kind to him early on.
“So, if she asked you out, would you date her?” Shim Ji-young pressed.
“Why’s the conversation going there?” he dodged.
“Answer! Would you?” she insisted.
“Why would a hotshot actress ask me out? That’s not happening, so don’t worry.”
Shim Ji-young and her manager nodded knowingly.
“He’d date her.”
They said in unison.
The conversation veered off track. Si-woo meant to discuss Ji-hyun’s apology, but they ended up talking about ‘Don’t Forget’ instead.
“Park Woong-deok sounded exhausted when he called yesterday,” Shim Ji-young said.
“Really? Director Park?” Si-woo asked.
“Yeah, he’s pouring everything into this one.”
She rambled excitedly about the film, hoping it’d be finished soon. Two hours later, she mentioned a schedule.
“Anyway, handle the Ji-hyun thing yourself. You’re not a kid—you’ll figure it out. I can’t control your relationships, but choose something you won’t regret.” she said before leaving.
“What… she just came to talk about the movie?” Si-woo muttered.
That night, he texted Kim Ji-hyun: [Let me know when you’re free, and we’ll talk.]
Her reply was instant: [Tomorrow evening works.]
[Cool, let’s meet tomorrow evening. I’ll pick a place and time tomorrow.]
[Got it.]
After the brief exchange, Si-woo lay in bed.
“Sigh… wonder how tomorrow will go…”
***
The next day, he chose a quiet café near his place, though Ji-hyun insisted on meeting there despite the distance.
Ding.
The café’s bell chimed as he entered. A figure in a deep cap raised a hand—it was unmistakably Ji-hyun, looking every bit the celebrity.
“You’re screaming ‘star’ with that getup,” he teased, approaching.
After awkward greetings, they bickered over who’d buy coffee.
“No, you came all this way—I’ll get it. What do you want?” Si-woo said.
“Vanilla latte, then,” she replied.
Citing proximity to his place, Si-woo ordered and returned.
“Let’s talk once the coffee’s here.”
“Okay…” she said softly.
Silence hung heavy. Ji-hyun felt suffocated, unsure how to start, how to apologize, or if she’d cry and cause a scene. Her mind went blank.
Bzzt.
The coffee bell rang. She stood, but Si-woo was already grabbing the drinks.
“I… was going to get it.” she said.
He handed her a warm vanilla latte. After a sip, she relaxed slightly.
“So, what did you want to talk about?”
Si-woo asked, pretending not to know she was there to apologize.
“Uh… well…” Kim Ji-hyun stammered.
‘Here it comes.’ she thought. ‘I can finally apologize… but what if he doesn’t accept it?’
Nervously, she forced out her first words.
“I wanted to apologize…”
“For what?” Kim Si-woo asked.
“For everything I did wrong. Asking for a role just because we were close, getting upset and rejecting your cameo offer, acting out while drunk, saying hurtful things… I’m so sorry for all of it.”
She’d sworn not to cry, but as she spoke, her vision blurred, and her throat tightened.
“I…”
Kim Ji-hyun poured out feelings she hadn’t even shared while drunk.
“Honestly, I was jealous when you and Ji-young sunbae hung out without me. And with everyone praising me, I got cocky…”
Si-woo listened silently as she laid bare her heart, explaining it wasn’t hatred but hurt and insecurity that made her act out. She wasn’t suffering from celebrity syndrome—just a shy, jealous streak. Her kindness toward staff and managers showed that. Her harsh words to Si-woo were merely her way of venting.
“I’m so sorry… Can you forgive me?” she pleaded, finally breaking into sobs.
Si-woo quickly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.
‘Knew this would happen. Good thing I brought the one Ji-young noona gave me.’
“Thank you…”
Ji-hyun said, wiping her tears.
After ten minutes of crying, she calmed down and looked at him, awaiting his response. Would he accept her apology and move forward, or reject it?
Si-woo shared his thoughts, and they left the café. He headed home.
***
Time passed, and Si-woo dressed up to head out, a rare occurrence. “Time to finally drive the Benz.”
He said. It had gathered dust since his Gangneung trip.
“Gotta get it washed on the way,” he noted.
After a car wash, he arrived at the technical preview of ‘Don’t Forget’, sitting in a corner to avoid the directors. As expected, Shim Ji-young, also dodging them, found him and sat beside him.
“You’re here?” she said.
“Yup.”
“Where’s your manager?”
“Coming soon.”
Her usual playful demeanor was gone, her face tense.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“Yeah. That obvious?”
“Very.”
“Sigh… I’ve never been this nervous before.”
She admitted, her high expectations for the film making her anxious.
— “We’ll now begin,”
A staff member announced over the speakers, and the theater darkened.
Boom…
The film opened with a low, resonant score, showing Han Ye-ri and her daughter Han Seul-gi living happily. The story escalated as the gifted Seul-gi entered a prestigious high school, triggering the main events. The quiet daily scenes, dynamic action, and intense emotional moments blended into another world. Unlike the fragmented shoots, the completed film carried a profound emotional thread.
The characters—Han Ye-ri, Han Seul-gi, Kim Ye-ji, schoolmates, her parents, and bystanders—felt so real their emotions hit hard, blurring the line between acting and reality. Lost in thought, Si-woo barely noticed the film end until the audience stood, applauding.
“It’s definitely different…”
He murmured. Compared to ‘Revenger’, the depth and emotional delivery were on another level. ‘This is why you need great directors, staff, and actors.’
Though he’d seen the acting firsthand, Park Woong-deok and the crew’s skill now truly sank in. As the lights came up, he turned to Shim Ji-young.
“Congrats, noona. This’ll outdo ‘Revenger’ for sure—huh?”
She was crying.
“Why so sad on a good day?” he asked.
“Han Ye-ri… she’s so pitiful.”
She said, immersed in her character’s pain, feeling it as her own—a common struggle for actors who deeply connect with their roles.
Meanwhile, most of the audience chatted and laughed, certain the film was a massive success.
“Writer-nim!”
Jung Se-yeon called, waving as she approached.
“Why’s it so hard to see you?”
“Not my fault.”
Si-woo retorted, amused. He stayed home, not busy, while Se-yeon’s packed schedule made her the elusive one.
Spotting Shim Ji-young crying, Se-yeon rushed over.
“Oh, unnie, always so emotional! Writer-nim, why aren’t you comforting her?”
“I… uh…” Si-woo stammered.
“Do it!”
Se-yeon teased, laughing. Shim Ji-young, seeing his awkward attempt to console her, stopped crying and smiled.
Realizing he was being teased, Si-woo let it slide, thinking, ‘Good vibes, good times.’ Thanks to him, Shim Ji-young composed herself, chatted with the directors, actors, and staff, and stepped outside, suddenly remembering something.
“Oh, right. What happened with Kim Ji-hyun?” she asked.
“Ji-hyun-ssi? Well…”