Chapter OneLIKE PIECES OF A PUZZLE

-3 YEARS AGO-

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Incheon Aiport, South Korea. Local time is 10:55AM and the temperature is 25 degrees celcius. For your safety and comfort, we ask that you please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the sign is switched off. This will indicated that we have parked at the gate and that it is safe for you to move.” 

 

She stifled a yawn as she slipped the latest edition of Vogue Korea into her limited edition Chanel handbag whilst simultaneously pulling her phone from the compartment that had been custom made to store the device. Without wanting to wait another moment, she her phone as she massaged the back of her neck, easing the knots that had managed to impair her usual fluidity and eloquence. Sighing, she made a note to never take a fifteen hour flight again - not even if it was first class. 

 

“Please check around your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought onboard with you and please be cautious when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles may have shifted around during the flight. If you require deplaning assistance, please remain seated until all other passengers have deplaned. One of our crew members will then be pleased to assist you.”

 

She chewed on her lower lip, phone resting in her palms as she began deleting the 86 messages that she managed to receive in the mere fifteen hours. Most of them were from acquaintances that bid her well for her journey back to South Korea but she saw through the kind words, into a world where everything was skin deep. Though, she didn’t blame them - not because she was pretentious but rather because, she understood the mechanics of her world. If you wanted to survive and vanquish then you needed to have connections with the right people and Lee NaYoung could not be more right of a person, considering she was now returning as the Vice President of one of South Korea’s most influential record labels and talent agencies. 

 

“We remind you to please wait until inside the terminal to use any electronic devices.”

 

‘Right’ She mouthed to herself before thinking too late and resumed her task of clearing out her inbox. Half way through the tedious task she paused at the name of a young woman - one that rolled off the tip of her tongue with ease.  

 

“Park HwaYoung” She whispered to herself and smiled, having finally associated the name with a face she recognised to be of a genuine friend. She threw her phone into her bag just as a flight attendant came around to check the passengers, making a mental note to personally return HwaYoung’s text with a phone call. 

 

“On behalf of Cathay Pacific Airlines and the entire crew, I’d like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. This is the captain speaking, have a nice day.” 

 

She could only roll her eyes as she gathered her belongings off the seat, wondering how on earth she was supposed to have a nice day when she had three full hour meetings to attend. Even then, she told herself that no matter how tired she was at the end of the day, she had to make time for one person - Jung Yunho.

 

 

*                     *                   *

Sometimes, in order to properly explain the qualities, features and functions of a person, we liken them to something or someone else. In the case of Jung Yunho, one must carefully sift through a number of similes to encapsulate, with accuracy, the way this man’s complicated life shaped him as a person. 

 

To fans, Jung Yunho was the epitome of leadership in that he effectively led one of Asia’s biggest boy bands in the K-POP music industry but to others he may have represented the exact opposite. The success and failures of the group rested on his shoulders and though he might not have solely accounted for them, he bore the burden of being the catalyst. 

 

To the members of Dong Bang Shin Ki, past and present, he was a symbol of reassurance and of success. The sight of Yunho with his eyes closed serenely and hands clasped tightly together had come to mean something more than just a man praying for the many things he treasured in his heart of gold - it was something they couldn’t do without. Seeing their leader - a figure of strength and perseverance, devote the most sincerest part of himself to four people he bore no blood relation to was, in itself, inspiring. 

 

The point that was to be made, nonetheless, was that Jung Yunho - a failure or a man being failed by those around him - remained as a pillar of strength. He stood strong throughout the battle which many considered to be about personal values and morals. He had a weight about him - a certain impact of authority over those he met and for the most part it was something that resonated with assurance and security. 

 

However as Jung Yunho stood alone on the roof top of SM Entertainment’s headquarters, watching as the planes flew over his head at thirty to forty-five minute intervals, he wondered just exactly how long he could sustain this image. He had stood strong for his maknae for the past few years but now he was growing weaker and becoming tired of having to lie to himself. Everyday as he woke up to an empty bed and a void in his heart, he told himself that it was going to be ok. 

 

In truth, everything was far from being ok. 

 

*                     *                   *

 

She held the coin in her hand, feeling the cool metal leave a tingling feeling on the soft skin of her slender fingers as she sat on the park bench swinging her legs. With her lips pressed into a thin line, she stared down at the coin in her hands and realised that the flame of passion she once bore for life was dwindling, burning her whole being into ashes. Slowly, she assimilated into her role - the role of simply being an extra on set of a drama. She was offered with no stable income, no reward for the ual harassment that she endured in order gain a petty role but that was also partly because she was a woman of dignity and never performed ual favours for the big guys of the industry. 

 

She could endure a little touching here and a little kissing there but that was as far as it went. She sighed, wondering what happened to that twenty-two year old girl who had stepped away from the comforts of her suburban California home, determined to rise as a prominent Korean actress of the 21st Century. She wondered what happened to that low-middle class girl who was tired of having to record every dollar she spent due to the overriding fear of becoming absolutely penniless. What happened to the girl who was so blinded by the overwhelming dreams and aspirations that she could no longer see reality? What happened to that innocence? That hopefulness? 

 

She didn’t know. All she knew was that she was still that lower-middle girl - counting every dollar she spent, saving as much as she could and spending most of the day on an empty stomach. 

 

“Ready? And… ACTION!” 

 

She perked up at the director’s voice but sunk down into the park bench when she realised, this signal was not directed at her. She just simply had to sit in her seat, pretending to be busy with something - anything because her screen time probably amounted to two seconds and no one really even cared. 

 

She had promised her mother that she would rise from the ashes and become a daughter that this lonely woman could be proud of but to this day, she was barely known. The name Park HwaYoung was perhaps associated with the image of a woman of little importance - a name that was only occasionally scrawled at the end of the credits list of a movie or a drama and hence a name unseen. Perhaps a few members of the Cassiopeia fanclub knew of her name and remembered her as that girl who was almost cast as a lead next to their precious maknae, Shim Changmin, in Paradise Ranch. Of course, that didn’t work out but that was another story - one that she viewed with an undying anger. 

 

She sighed, knowing she had been right when she had said, “Dong Bang Shin Ki will be the death of me.” 

 

Though naturally when she had uttered those words, they meant a completely different thing - back then, DBSK had made a gracious comeback with their M I R O T I C Album, sweeping the awards across the entire country. She had admired them - in fact she still did but the fondness she held for one particular member plummeted greatly after he had completely obliterated not only her chance of a perfect debut but also the chance to fulfill her dreams of becoming married to a rich man. 

 

HwaYoung may be humble due to her financial state but she was well aware that she was not by any chance at a disadvantage when it came to appearance. In fact, she was one of those privileged girls who were blessed with the refined features that would stereotypically belong to someone of the upper class. She was extraordinarily beautiful - it was hard to stand out as being completely beautiful in a country so highly acknowledged for its skills in the practice of cosmetic surgery but she was charismatic in nature. 

 

Buried deep within HwaYoung was an element that captivated those who knew her - there was something dark and alluring in her nature. She was the type of girl who would do anything to get her way - absolutely anything to gain possession of what she desired.

 

She rolled the coin over her fingers, remembering how this one petty coin had brought the paths of two young women together. HwaYoung would never forget how she felt when she set eyes on Lee NaYoung - it was a mixture of the greatest admiration and jealousy. NaYoung was drop dead gorgeous, clad in designer brands from head to toe with perfect black waves cascading down her shoulders. HwaYoung could distinctly remember that as she kneeled on the floor with that coin in her hand, staring up at the goddess towering above her, she could barely breathe properly. 

 

Lee NaYoung was everything - absolutely everything that she wanted to be. The woman was so full of poise and each step she carried exuded a confident elegance that no other woman on earth could obtain without the money.

 

NaYoung had let her keep the coin for she believed that it could be a token of their blossoming friendship. Of course, HwaYoung never believed that someone as graceful as NaYoung would ever pay an ounce of attention to her but one that fateful day, NaYoung raised her Prada sunglasses from her oval face, propped them casually onto her head and leaned down to offer a helping hand to this poor soul. 

 

It was later, of course, that she found out NaYoung was the future Vice President of SM Entertainment - a fact that knocked the breathe out of her for the second time that day. NaYoung was always full of surprises - she managed to figure out that much about her. NaYoung was a strange person to decipher and the best way to describe her was, perhaps, a free spirit. She was who she wanted to be whenever she wanted because she had learnt how to properly embrace freedom after being sheltered from the world in her youth. 

 

A passing breeze swept HwaYoung’s hair from her shoulder and she turned to look in the direction of the wind, pulling her gaze to her co-star (if you could even call it that), Park MinYoung. She chewed on her bottom lip, mouthing the lines she had memorised at one glance of the script and turned her attention back to the coin. 

 

NaYoung was back today, finally having graduated from Stanford University - a place she could only wish to have studied. She sighed as her phone buzzed in her pocket and pulled it out, willing it not to be a call from the bank asking about her overdue credit card payment. 

 

She picked it up carefully, “Yobeosayo?” 

 

“Are you free now?” 

 

HwaYoung’s face lit up at the sultry voice - there was only one person who could sound so damn y every second of the day. Lee NaYoung.

 

She turned back to the set and decided that she was unneeded, “Yeah, I’m free.”

 

“Right, how does coffee sound?” 

 

“Sounds perfect.” 

 

“Meet me at the head office in thirty?” 

 

She flicked a glance at her Chanel watch - a one time splurge she had made to polish herself up. After all, it was one thing to be poor and another to look poor. “Sure.”