I point to the TV mounted on the ceiling. “Sophie, they’re making us watch a soap opera.”
She grins, her cheeks pushing up her gigantic glasses close to her hairline. “That’s not a soap opera, it’s a drama. Like, a prime-time show. This is a recording of an old one.”
“So will the show Jason’s writing the song for be like this one?”
“Probably. I’m curious to see how well he acts in it.” She giggles.
“Wait. He’s going to be on TV?”
Nathan got a lot of great opportunities after he won his first Grammy, but he couldn’t act to save his life, so he never accepted any roles he was offered. I always wished he would have, though, so I could tag along.
“He didn’t tell you that’s what the song is for?” she asks.
“Well, he said it was the theme song, but I didn’t know he’d be actually in the show.”
She scoots down and props her knees on the seat in front of her, crossing her arms and leaning her head against the window.
“Well, the drama is about an aspiring musician,” she says, “whose fiancée has amnesia. She was hit by a car on her way to the wedding, and he helps her remember her previous life with his music. Oh, and there’s something about her dad being a crime boss or something, and Jason’s character gets kidnapped by the dad. I can’t remember.”
“Sounds like a soap opera to me.”
She laughs. “Yeah, I guess. But it should be good for his career. That’s what their manager said, anyway.”
“Are the other two guys going to be in it?”
“No, just Jason.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“He’s the lead singer.” She shoots me a wry smile. “Plus, if you haven’t noticed, he’s the cutest one. But I just like to think of that as a family thing.”
I roll my eyes and force myself to laugh with her, hoping she doesn’t notice the way my breathing has accelerated. I have noticed he’s the cutest, though I would have guessed Sophie would think of someone else.
“What about Tae Hwa?” I ask. “He’s cute.”
“I guess,” is all she says, but I spot the blush growing in her cheeks.
We spend the rest of the the ride trying to sleep. I shift a dozen times in my seat, but I can’t drift off. So I stuff headphones into my ears and listen to the playlist Sophie made me of all the songs Jason suggested. The synthesized beats and squeaky-clean vocals grate my nerves at first, but I soon find myself tapping my foot and humming along. This KPOP stuff is catchy, I’ll give it that. And at least they use English phrases a lot, mixed in with the Korean, so I understand some of it.
When our bus finally pulls into the station, the October night is chilly. Wrapping my arms around myself against the cold, I grab my backpack and shuffle out onto the pavement.
Tilting my head back, I peer up at the chorus of stars overhead, marveling at their brightness this far from the city.
“Grace, hurry up!” Sophie calls.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I growl, slicking back my ponytail, which has totally frizzed after that long ride.
Sophie and I make our way through the bus station, which is a lot smaller than the one we transferred through in Incheon. There are only two buses lined up at the stop, in contrast to the nearly fifteen there.
“Tae Hwa said the driver would meet us out front,” Sophie says, her attention more on her phone than where she’s going.
I grab her arm and maneuver her around pedestrians before she runs over anyone, and we camp out at the curb in front of the building. Lights dot the countryside before us, but mostly it’s dark. Shadowy mountains stretch up to the sky, their round backs blotting out the stars. If I listen hard, I can hear seagulls, but we’re too far from the water to hear any ocean waves.
A pair of headlights pulls up, and the driver stops right in front of us. A familiar face pokes out of the passenger side of a van.
“Get in,” Yoon Jae calls.
Sophie and I climb into the van to find Tae Hwa behind the wheel, Yoon Jae riding shotgun, and Jason in the middle row. Sophie slides in beside her brother, and I sit in the back row.
“I thought the driver was going to come get us,” Sophie says.
“Tae Hwa wanted to drive,” Yoon Jae throws over his shoulder.
Sophie turns around and says to me with mock seriousness, “You had better put your seat belt on, Grace. Tae Hwa isn’t known for his driving skills.”
She laughs, but I search for a seat belt anyway, then realize nobody wears seat belts here unless they’re on the highway. I can’t find one anyway, so I shrug off any worries.
We rocket down the bumpy street, Tae Hwa weaving around bikes and motorcycles so close I fear we’re going to run them off the road. I can’t watch him almost squish pedestrians, so I peer out the window at the splattering of buildings we pass as we head into the town, which is built into the hillside that slopes down to the sea below.
We cross a bridge that stretches across the ocean, circle a roundabout, and turn off onto a side street that sports a myriad of tiny restaurants and tea shops closed for the night.
Tae Hwa pulls up to a weather-beaten white building, and we all pile out of the van. I look up at the three-story hotel with uncertainty. A breeze catches my hair and brings a scent of saltwater and old fish. A stray dog runs past us, yelping at the heels of a screeching cat, and a woman babbles in Korean at the top of her lungs in the restaurant still open next door. I glance in the alley beside the hotel. Are those … chickens?