With a smile in his voice, Jun said to me, “This author has really small feet compared to her height. She used to mainly wear sandals in Japan, and the straps often came loose, so I used to fix them for her. Even when walking, I kept looking at her feet all day. So, I hoped the actress who would play the role of Haru for twenty years would also have small feet, like this author here.”

It was an unexpected answer. Could it be that Jun’s particular concern about the actresses’ shoe sizes was to delicately include a fragment of our memories from that time in the movie?

I looked at Jun with a trembling gaze.

No, more precisely, at the twenty-year-old Jun of that time.

The image of him stopping abruptly while walking and bending over, folding one leg to sit, meticulously tying the straps of my sandals. That posture, looking up at me with a bright smile, saying, “It’s done,” over and over. That figure remained vividly in my memory, even now, while looking at me.
I quietly recalled the younger Jun from those days when age was young but love was not. Perhaps my gaze, which refused to be collected easily, was uncomfortable, as Jun suddenly turned his gaze towards me. This time, Jun asked in a hushed tone.

“Why.”

I lifted the corner of my mouth slightly and turned my head to the side. Then, I turned my head discreetly. It seemed that Jun didn’t find such a gesture unpleasant, as I heard his faint laughter beside me.

When Jun refocused on his original task, I turned my head to look at him without making a sound. His intense focus on work was beautiful.

As if he wanted to hide and continue looking only at me.

Like the time you used to look only at my feet while walking, now I want to watch you every day.

After the casting audition pre-meeting, Jun left the building without any unnecessary farewells. I was included in the targets of Jun’s brief farewell.

It seemed like he needed to fulfill as much of the schedule as possible during his stay in Korea. As fatigue overwhelmed him, his head sank down as soon as he turned around. His silent steps seemed heavy.

As heavy as my heart that grew heavier with every step.

My head also dropped down like Jun’s.

After finishing lunch and returning to the office, I leaned back deeply in my chair.

Jun’s figure, who used to turn his back and walk while carrying me, came into view. Today’s meeting was just a part of my job as an office worker, but Jun was probably one of the many long schedules continuing from dawn.

… Can’t you show a little sign that it’s tough?

Does he always live like that where my gaze doesn’t reach? Worries had inflated to their full size. Regrets always came too late.

My unwilling gaze turned towards the monitor. I opened the messenger without much thought. Soon, my gaze focused on one place. A message from Jun sent I don’t know when. One desperate touch opened the message window.

“[Don’t look back until the end.]”

… What does this mean?

Checking the time, I found that the message had been sent over 40 minutes ago. If it was 40 minutes ago…

Roughly calculating the time, I tried to recall my memory. At that time, Kang PD, Director Cho, and all the meeting participants must have come down to the first floor.

Jun had already expressed his intention to have lunch separately long before. So, Jun went out through the main gate, and we went out through the back gate, where Kang PD’s favorite dumpling soup restaurant was.

If he sent it around that time…

My fingers placed on the vending machine got busy.

“[Did you wait for me?]”
There seemed to be no possibility, but I sent a message with conflicting thoughts. Surprisingly, the number 1 next to my message disappeared quickly. Immediately below, a response was posted.

“[Why are you walking with your head bowed so deeply? It hurts my heart.]”

… He was watching.
Walking in opposite directions, with our backs turned to each other, we might have been out of sync at the moment we turned around. Yet, the emotions we felt while gazing at each other’s backs were the same.

Both you and I were walking in the same way. However, what was stored in our hearts was only the image of the other.

Just knowing that fact was gift enough. So, I wanted to alleviate your worries.

[It wasn’t like that. I was looking at my phone. Maybe I sent the message at that time.] [I sent a message right away, but you didn’t see it.]

Unexpectedly, it wasn’t as easy as expected to move on from Kim Jun, who wasn’t willing to let it go. It felt like being a blocked soldier with no way out. Even while hesitating, time flowed. Jun, who didn’t know the meaning of this hesitation, wasn’t there.

[You’re hesitating again.]

Oh no, there’s no way out. Faced with a message that seemed to give a final judgment, I lost my words. As if expecting such a reaction, or perhaps not wanting to give any more room for hesitation, the messages quickly piled up.

[After finishing work today, want to come to the studio? Where we discussed the script together.] [I’ll go first after finishing my daytime schedule.] [You still want to see me right now. I know it all.]

As if understanding your heart that felt sad watching my back. Kind words urging me not to be downhearted and to meet again soon.

A kind person who always says what I need to hear first.

With a smile on my face, as if asking when I’ve been gloomy, I added to the affectionate words.

[Yes, understood, Director.] [Okay. See you soon.] [Ugh, the way you say “Director.”] [You called me “Director.”] [Ugh, the way you say “Director” is so nice. What was I trying to say?] [You don’t even treat me like a director in your usual behavior.] [Yeah, that’s true.]

As we smiled quietly, Jun added more sincerity.

[It’s okay if you don’t treat me like a director. Just come slowly quickly.]

A smile that had been quietly blooming spread even larger.

I arrived at the building in front of the address Jun had sent in case I might get lost.

Standing in front of the entrance, memories of the day when I first reunited with Jun and found this place in Korea flashed in my mind.

Each expression, word, and gesture seemed to respond only to each other, like sensors tuned to each other’s signals. Although we were sensitive to each other, we couldn’t show it, and that day we hurriedly retreated without revealing anything.

Hiding the deeply wounded and oozing chest with my hand. Whenever I pretended not to see the hand, tried to bring up another topic, and then accidentally lowered the hand. Each time, we discovered each other’s wounds and felt too much pain.

Approaching, stopping, and then retreating for a long time, repeating the process.

But today’s us were different. We didn’t step back and looked at each other. Lowering our hands from the deep wounds in our chests, we gently placed them on each other’s wounds.
It hurt, but it doesn’t hurt. It was sad, but it’s not sad. When one of us momentarily stops walking, the other rushes forward, grabs their hand, and pulls them into an embrace.

We are different from back then.

Perhaps that’s why. Each step towards the front door felt light.

Feeling the excitement that raced to the end of those steps, I went inside to meet my Jun.