“Wow.”
“Is this place really a restaurant?”
Hand in hand with Mother, I stepped into the Korean restaurant Jessica had named.
When we left the rehearsal room, Jessica said she would bring the guest separately and meet us there.
The place she told us to find…didn’t look ordinary at all.
“Let’s go in first, Mom.”
“Uh…sure.”
Right in the middle of Seoul stood a huge tile‑roofed house straight out of a period drama.
A hefty wooden gate opened with a familiar creak.
“Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes—under Jessica Brown.”
“This way, please.”
An attendant in an old‑style hanbok led us to a detached pavilion.
When the door slid open, Jessica and an American man were waiting.
“Oh, Siwoo!”
“There you are—come in. Annyeong‑ha‑shye‑yo, Siwoo eomoni.”
Jessica greeted Mother in slightly awkward Korean.
They’d met a few times these months, so it wasn’t too strange.
“This restaurant is wonderful.”
“The food here is delicious—please look forward to it.”
I busied myself interpreting between them.
Meanwhile the brown‑haired, brown‑eyed man kept staring at me, smiling faintly. He looked early forties.
“Jessica, who is he?”
I asked in English before Mother could, uneasy under that gaze.
“Oh, right—Siwoo, this is Lucas Miller, an executive director at Rainbow Pictures. And Lucas, this is Han Siwoo you were dying to meet, and his mother.”
“Pleasure to meet you. I’ve wanted to for some time—and to meet the mother of such a remarkable actor.”
Lucas introduced himself slowly, in simple English—clearly mindful that I was only six.
His courteous bow and gentle smile told me at once he had good manners.
I smiled back at his politeness.
“Mom, he’s a high‑up at Rainbow Pictures. He says he’s glad to meet us.”
“Wow—tell him I’m pleased too, and thank him for inviting us.”
I relayed her words.
Hand on chest, Lucas answered that it was an honor.
When he heard my fluent English, his eyes widened.
“I begged for this meeting. Jessica says the food is excellent—I’m looking forward to it.”
While we exchanged greetings, staff slid open the lattice doors and carried in an enormous low table loaded with colorful Korean dishes.
“This is authentic Korean cuisine, then.”
“Everything’s good—eat whatever you like.”
“Shall we begin?”
The four of us started the meal, exclaiming all the while.
“Siwoo, taste this. They serve real traditional dishes here—I’ve never had some of these.”
“Mmm, yummy.”
Mother laid grilled pollack and skewered jeon on my rice, and I ate gladly.
Lucas watched us fondly, copying whichever side dish Mother picked.
“Is the food to your liking, Siwoo?”
“Of course, Jessica. There’s a lot even I’ve never tried.”
While answering her, Lucas paused mid‑soup.
“Your English is even better than I’d heard—such clear British pronunciation.”
“You flatter me.”
“Ha‑ha. Do you know the head office staff are all desperate to meet you?”
“Really?”
A new bit of news—so they were all aware of my acting.
“After Jessica showed a sample video, I flew to Korea and saw Sunday’s performance. When I reported back, everyone was jealous.”
He went on about how impressed he’d been; his quick English overwhelmed Mother, so I promised to translate later.
“It’s an honor. I’d love to meet the creators of such a fine show.”
“Our people would cry with joy to hear that. And your pronunciation—perfect for voice‑over work.”
“Oho, Lucas, good idea,” Jessica chimed in.
“Voice‑over?”
The unfamiliar word made me tilt my head, and Jessica explained.
“You know Rainbow makes animation. Dubbing means recording voices to match the characters on screen.”
“Sounds fun. I’m not sure how much help I’d be—I don’t watch much animation.”
“That so? Not a fan?”
“Well…I did watch the Korean penguin cartoon Peng‑Peng a few times when I was little. That’s about all.”
Thinking of Peng‑Peng warmed my chest; I’d been obsessed for a month, shouting its catchphrase “Play first!”—a secret no one must learn.
Lucas laughed. “We’ve seen some episodes, too. You say you don’t know animation, yet you know quite a bit.”
“Perhaps we really should ask you to dub sometime.”
“If it’s Siwoo, no problem,” Jessica said brightly.
But acting with only my voice… The timing, matching lip movements, varied pronunciation—demanding but intriguing.
“It wouldn’t be easy. You must hit cues, change tone with each expression…high‑level acting with little freedom.”
“Ha‑ha, you grasp the essence at once! I’d love to introduce you to our young voice actors.”
“Hands off, Lucas. He’s performing with me,” Jessica laughed, claiming ownership. I giggled.
“Why?” she asked.
I repeated the exchange for Mother, and we finished the meal in high spirits.
“Korean food is so hearty. Siwoo, it was great meeting you; let’s see each other again.”
“Thank you, Lucas.”
He joked, “I came to befriend a future star—mission accomplished, right?”
I answered with thumb and forefinger barely apart: “A little bit?”
February 10
As if fated, snow fell thickly from the sky—just like opening night.
Staring out at the darkening flakes, I felt the heavens were blessing our beginning and end.
“Siwoo, come over—let me check your hair once more.”
“Coming!”
Tonight was the final performance of RUN.
Jessica had allowed extra freedom and fancier props for the farewell show.
“We’ll run the scene this way—Jessica approved it.”
“Sounds fun. More rest for me backstage,” Grandma quipped.
“Careful, you might ad‑lib more than I do.”
Laughing with actress No Yeong‑hui in the dressing room, I chattered about the tweaks I’d prepared.
“You’re almost six, and your pronunciation’s improved so much. At the start I still heard little lisped sounds, but now hardly any.”
“Hee‑hee, I practiced really hard!”
She stroked my hair gently, mindful of the styling.
“Children grow so fast.”
“Gran, you sounded like my real grandma just now.”
“Am I not? I’m truly your grandma on stage, you know.”
We both laughed. I snuggled into her arms; second only to Mother’s warmth.
“It’s hard to believe tonight is the last show.”
“Indeed. I’ve done so many plays, yet this one felt especially short.”
Knowing she shared my sadness made me feel better.
Time flies faster as we age—her gentle eyes told how precious these months had been.
I would send Jonathan off well, with all this wistfulness inside me.
“Stand by, please!”
The call rang through the corridor. I rose and offered Yeong‑hui my hand, like a young gentleman escorting a lady.
“Shall we, Grandma Bella?”
“Let’s go, Johnny.”
Hand in hand, we stepped from the dressing room toward our final stage.
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