Balancing a bag of groceries in one arm, Yejin let herself into the house.  She radiated happiness.  The gold of her wedding ring caught the light.  As a newlywed of three months, she was anxious to prepare a special, intimate dinner as a surprise for Jinwook. Her demanding hours at the hospital and clinic often made it impossible for her to cook.  This afternoon, with two appointments unexpectedly cancelled, she intended to fix something fancy, time-consuming and memorable.  Something that went well with candlelight and wine.

A glance at her watch told her she had four full hours before her husband was expected home. First, she decided, she was going upstairs to get out of her practical suit and shoes.  Tonight, she wouldn’t be a psychiatrist, but a woman, a woman very much in love. Her hand trailed lightly over the polished banister as she started up.  Her eyes, usually serious or intent, were dreamy.  Carelessly, she pushed open the bedroom door.

Her smile froze.  Utter shock replaced it.  As she stood in the doorway, all color seemed to drain out of her cheeks.  Her eyes grew huge before pain filled them.  Out of came one anguished word.

“Jinwook.”

The couple in bed, locked in a passionate embrace, sprang apart.  The man, smoothly handsome, his sleek hair dishevelled, stared up in disbelief.  The woman – feline, sultry, stunning – smiled very, very slowly.  You could almost hear her purr.

“Soyoung.”  Yejin looked at her sister with anguished eyes.

“You’re home early.”  There was a hint, only a suspicion of a laugh in her sister’s voice.

Jinwook put a few more inches between himself and his sister-in-law. “Yejin, I…”

In one split second, Yejin’s face contorted.  With her eyes locked on the couple in bed, she reached in her jacket pocket and drew out a small, lethal revolver.  The lovers stared at it in astonishment, and in silence.  Coolly, she aimed and fired.  A puff of confetti burst out.

“Kang Sora ssi!”

Dr. Kim Yejin, better known as Kang Sora, turned to her harassed director as the couple in bed and members of the television crew dissolved into laughter.

“Sorry, Dongwon sajangnim.  I couldn’t help myself.  Yejin’s always the victim,” she said dramatically while her eyes danced.  “Just think what it might do for the ratings if she lost her cool just once and murdered someone.”

“Look, Sora – “

“Or even just seriously injured them,” she went on rapidly. “And who,” she continued, flinging her hand toward the bed, “deserves it more than her spineless husband and scheming sister?”

At the hoots and applause of the crew, Sora took a bow, and then reluctantly turned over her weapon to her director when he held out his hand.

“You,” he said with a long-suffering sigh, “are a certified loony, and have been since I’ve known you.”

“I appreciate that sajangnim.” Sora gave him a smile and a wink.

“This time the tape’s going to be running,” he warned and tried not to grin.  “Let’s see if we can shoot this scene before lunch.”

Agreeably, Sora went down to the first floor of the set.  She stood patiently while her hair and make-up were touched up.  Yejin was always perfection.  Organized, meticulous, calm – all the things Sora herself wasn’t.  She’d played the character for just over two years on the popular evening soap opera “Our Lives, Our Loves.”

Sora liked Yejin, respected her integrity and poise.  When the cameras rolled, Sora was Yejin.  While in her personal life she would much prefer a day at an amusement park to an evening at the Han River, she understood all the nuances of the woman she portrayed.

She waited for her cue and wondered vaguely if she’d turned off her coffeepot that morning.  They ran through the scene again, from cue to cut.  Then came reaction shots – the camera zoomed in close on Yejin’s pale, shocked face and held for several long, dramatic seconds.

“Lunch.”  Response was immediate.

She hooked her arm through that of Son Eunsoo, her series sister.  “Pull something over that suit, Eunsoo ssi.  I can’t face the commissary food today.”

Eunsoo tossed back her tousled mass of auburn hair, “You buying?”

“Always sponging off your sister,” Sora mumbled. “Okay, I’ll spring, but hurry up. I’m starving.”

It was tempting to shed her costume and take down her hair, but it would only mean fooling with wardrobe and makeup after lunch.  Instead, she just grabbed her purse, an outsize hobo bag that looked a bit inappropriate with Yejin’s elegant business suit.  She was already thinking about a thick slice of baklava soaked in honey.

“Come on, Eunsoo ssi.” Sora stuck her head in the adjoining dressing room as Eunsoo zipped up a pair of snug jeans.  “My stomach’s on overtime.”

“It always is,” her co-worker returned as she pulled on a bulky sweatshirt. “Where to?”

“The Greek deli around the corner.”

“My diet,” Eunsoo began.

“Have a salad,” Sora told her without mercy.  She turned her head to give Eunsoo a quick up-and-down glance.  “You know, if you weren’t always wearing those skimpy outfits on camera, you wouldn’t have to starve yourself.”

Eunsoo grinned as they came to the street door.  “Jealous.”

“Yeah.  I’m always elegant and always proper.  You have all the fun.” Stepping outside, Sora took a deep breath of Seoul. She loved it – had always loved it.

It was brisk for mid-April, and threatening to rain. Sora saw a street vendor selling spring flowers. She bought two bunches and handed one to Eunsoo.

The deli was packed with people and aromas.  Spices and honey.  Beer and oil. Always a creature of the senses, Sora drew in the mingled scents before she worked her way to the counter.  As she looked behind the glass-fronted counter, she could already taste the things there.

“Cottage cheese, a slice of pineapple and coffee – black,” Eunsoo said with a sigh. Sora sent her a brief, pitying look.

“Greek salad, a hunk of that lamb on a hard roll and a slice of baklava.  Coffee, cream and sugar.”

“You’re disgusting,” Eunsoo told her. “You never gain an ounce.”

“I do. Sometimes.”  Sora moved down the counter to the cashier.  “But’s a matter of mental control and clean living.” Ignoring Eunsoo’s snort she paid the bill then made her way through the crowded deli toward an empty table.  She and a bull of a man reached it simultaneously.  Sora simply held her tray and sent him a stunning smile which showed her dimple.  The man straightened his shoulders, in his stomach and gave way.

“Thanks,” Eunsoo acknowledged and dismissed him at the same time, knowing if she didn’t Sora would invite him to join them and upset any chance of a private conversation.  The woman, Eunsoo thought, needed a keeper.

Sora did all the things a woman alone should know better than to do.  She talked to strangers, walked alone at night and answered her door without the security chain attached.  It wasn’t that she was daring or careless, but simply that she believed in the best of people.  And somehow, in a bit more than twenty-four years of living, she’d never been disillusioned.  Eunsoo marvelled at her, even while she worried about her.

“The gun was one of your best stunts all season.” Eunsoo remarked.  “I thought Dongwon sajangnim was going to scream.”

“He needs to relax,” Sora said with full.  “He’s been on edge ever since he broke up with that dancer.  How about you? Are you still seeing Myungsoo?”

“Yeah.” Eunsoo lifted her shoulder. “I don’t know why, it’s not going anywhere.”

“Where do you want it to go?” Sora countered. “If you have a goal in mind, just go for it.”

With a half laugh, Eunsoo began to eat.  “Not everyone plunges through life like you, Sora.  It always amazes me that you’ve never been seriously involved.”

“Simple.” Sora speared a fork into her salad then chewed slowly. “I’ve never met anyone who made my knees tremble.  As soon as I do, that’ll be it.”

“Just like that?”

“Why not? Life isn’t as complicated as most people make it.”  She added a dash of pepper to the lamb.  “Are you in love with Myungsoo?”

Eunsoo frowned – not because of the question but because of the answer, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Then you’re not,” Sora said easily.  “Love’s a very definite emotion.”

“If you’ve never been in love, how do you know?”

“I’ve never been to Turkey, but I’m sure it’s there.”

With a laugh, Eunsoo picked up her coffee. “Damn. You’ve always got an answer. Tell me about the script.”

“Omo! Daebak!” Sora put down her fork, and leaning her elbows on the table, folded her hands.  “It’s the best thing I’ve ever read.  I want that part.  I’m going to get that part.”

“I swear I’ve been waiting for the character of Shin Hyori to come along.  She’s heartless,” Sora continued, resting her chin on her folded hands. “Complex, selfish, cold, insecure.  A part like that…” She trailed off with a shake of her head.  “And the story,” she added on a long breath as her mind jumped from one aspect to the next.  “It’s nearly as cold and heartless as she is, but it gets to you.”

“Park Jungsoo,” Eunsoo mused. “It’s rumoured that he based the character of Shin Hyori on his ex-wife.”

“He didn’t gloss it over either.  If he’s telling it straight, she put him through hell.  In any case,” she said as she began to eat again, “it’s the best piece of work that has come my way.  I’m going to read for it in a couple of days.”

“TV movie,” Eunsoo said thoughtfully.  “Quality television with Park Jungsoo writing and Choi Siwon producing. You’d have our own producer at your feet if you got it.  Omo, what a boost for the ratings.”

“He’s already playing politics,” Sora said with a small frown. “He got me an invitation to a party tonight at Choi Siwon ssi’s condo. Park Jungsoo ssi’s supposed to be there.  From what I hear, he has got the last say on casting.”

“He’s got a reputation for wanting to push his own buttons,” Eunsoo agreed.  “So why the frown?”

“Politics are like rain in April. You know it’s got to happen, but it’s messy and annoying.” Then she shrugged the thought away as she did anything unavoidable.  In the end, from what she knew of Park Jungsoo, she’d earn the part on her own merit.

* * * * *