“Oh? Who… Seo-hae, is she someone you know?”

The question came just as the conversation was about to enter uncomfortable territory.

Luckily, a group of my colleagues had just come out of the dressing room and spotted me lingering awkwardly near the tour bus.

They came over and I quickly introduced the woman to them.

“She says she’s a fan of our orchestra.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Hello! Wow, Kyujin – I know who you are too!”

This time, the fan was surrounded by our orchestra members.

Fortunately, the one she had just recognized-Kyujin-was naturally sociable.

She was much more outgoing than I was, so while she took the fan’s hand and chatted with her, I took the opportunity to quietly slip away from the crowd and board the tour bus.

“Seo-hae, did you see that?”

“See what?”

“The account that the fan said she runs. I asked her and she told me right away. She really seems like a real fan – she posted a lot of short videos before and after our performances. But you know… after seeing this, I think I finally understand why we caught CEO Lee Seol-won’s attention.”

Kyujin gave me her cell phone.

Surprised, I took it and watched the video she had started from the beginning.

As soon as I saw the background, I knew exactly which performance it was.

It was the outdoor music festival – the one where the fan I’d just met said she saw me for the first time.

We were supposed to go on second, but I remembered that we went on first because the opening act suddenly got severe stomach cramps.

At the beginning of the video, you could see us on a makeshift stage set up on a grassy field, tuning up our instruments.

The audience was sitting on white plastic chairs waiting for the show to start.

—“What kind of concert is this?”

The fan, who had been curiously wandering near the stage, adjusted her phone and found an empty seat.

At this point, it didn’t look like she was serious about filming – the framing was rather messy.

The camera panned lazily and carelessly over the backs of the audience in the front row.

An older couple who seemed to be there with their child, a couple of students who probably stumbled across the stage and sat down out of curiosity – and then… At the brief glimpse that flashed across the screen, I almost screamed.

I quickly raised my hand to cover my mouth.

It was the back view that stopped me – long, voluminous hair, casually twisted up and secured with a large clip.

Even though the bluish dusk of early evening cast a dim light over the entire scene, I knew immediately.

It was Eun-sae.

Eun-sae had come to see my performance.
She had been caught on film.

“Right? You were surprised too, weren’t you, Seo-hae?”

Kyujin noticed my expression and spoke.

Still stunned, I raised my head.

I was really shocked.

I never imagined that I’d suddenly stumble upon a piece of Eun-sae like this.

My eyes burned and it took everything I had not to burst into tears.

“Ah… uh, yeah?”

I nodded blankly, and a beat later my mind finally caught up.

Of course Kyujin wouldn’t know who Eun-sae was.

Besides, she was only seen from behind in the beginning of the video.

Since I was her twin, I recognized her right away.

Anyone else – honestly, no one – would have realized that it was Eun-sae.

Maybe she misread my reaction, because Kyujin added, “That’s CEO Lee Seol-won, right?”

At that moment, a name I never thought I would hear pierced the air.

What? I was so startled that my tears disappeared on the spot.

“You can only see a glimpse of his side profile, but I’m pretty sure it’s CEO Lee Seol-won. He came alone, without any staff or assistants, and just stood there quietly watching the show – so the audience muttered things like ‘Wow, there’s a really handsome guy over there’ and ‘He looks just like Lee Seol-won,’ but no one really believed it was him.”

Honestly, I get it.

If there had been at least a VIP seat reserved off to the side or something, maybe people would have suspected something, but he was just standing there, right out in the open, without even a chair.

I mean, even celebrities – people who live by their looks – can go unnoticed if they take off their masks and walk around freely, so I guess it makes sense.

My mind had been completely taken over by Eun-sae’s sudden appearance, and I had missed everything that followed.

I quickly moved the playback bar forward.

After jumping forward a few times, a tall man with a graceful posture entered the frame.

I quickly moved the playback bar forward.

After jumping forward a few times, a tall man with an elegant appearance appeared on the screen.

It was Lee Seol-won.

He had really been there.

—”Whoa… what the heck? Is he a celebrity? Why does he look so familiar?”

Startled, the person being filmed seemed to lose focus for a moment, the camera shaking briefly – but then, almost instinctively, it steadied itself and returned to capture him in the frame.

Even though the camera was clearly looking at him from time to time, Lee Seol-won didn’t seem to notice or care.

He stood tall in one place, completely unaffected by the attention, his eyes fixed only on the stage where we were preparing for the performance.

“It must be true what they say – people with really classic, perfect features just don’t come across right on camera. In person, he looked much colder, sharper… but the photo doesn’t quite capture that, does it? Same with you, Seo-hae. Every time I see a photo of you, I think it doesn’t do you justice. You’re such a stunning beauty in person, but that unique aura you have just doesn’t come through in pictures…”

Kyujin’s voice slipped past my ears here and there, but I couldn’t really hear what she was saying.

“He’s so elusive for someone who looks like that, right? I guess if you’re running an art hall, you have to immerse yourself in all kinds of cultural events, so maybe he makes a habit of visiting small festivals like this one, checking them out one by one. Everyone said that must be it, that he remembered us because of that day. We were all wondering why the Songun Art Hall chose us out of all the groups, and what connection we had with them that we didn’t know about. And now, the mystery’s finally solved.”

My heart was pounding.

This event, organized by the city as a free cultural program for the public, had a temporary stage set up very close to the audience.

And in our orchestra, the seating arrangement rarely changed unless there was a special reason.

As usual, Eun-sae sat in the far right row, where she could see me clearly.

And Lee Seol-won stood not far from where she sat.

But no matter how you looked at it, they didn’t look like a couple at all.

Even though Eun-sae was right next to him, Lee Seol-won didn’t even look at her.

And it wasn’t like he was standing there because there were no seats available.

People were constantly coming and going, losing interest in the middle of the performance, so the chairs were often filled and emptied.

Even the seat right next to Eun-sae was empty.

Eun-sae, on the other hand, would occasionally glance sideways at Lee Seol-won.

Whenever the camera panned left and right, alternating with shots of the stage, her shadow would briefly lean in his direction before falling back into place.

I didn’t know what to make of it.

Even I couldn’t grasp the direction of my own thoughts.

I had completely believed what Eun-sae had once told me – that she had never mentioned her identical twin sister to her boyfriend.

She always waited for me alone after performances.

And I had never performed on a large, public stage that someone like Lee Seol-won would be likely to attend – nothing as well-known and mainstream as the Songun Art Hall.

So I assumed that Lee Seol-won didn’t know who I was.

So I assumed that Lee Seol-won didn’t know who I was.

But Eun-sae… What was the distance between you and Lee Seol-won?

Why didn’t you look like a couple, even for a moment?

Why couldn’t you be honest with me?

Why did you have so many secrets that you never shared?

What happened?

Why was he – that man – watching me play the Gayageum in the same room as you?

Did Lee Seol-won know who Hyun Seo-hae was?

Was that it?

Then… did he know all this time?

And yet he pretended not to know – letting me pretend to be you, calling me “Eun-sae”, going along with the lie I never wanted to tell?

—”So, you have several pairs of the same gloves, huh?”

—”I was just curious where you learned that song from a moment ago.”

In retrospect, he didn’t say a word when he saw the marks on the gayageum strings, even though his surprisingly keen observation had made me nervous.

Not because he didn’t care, but because he already knew what they were and didn’t want to ask…

—”The strings… Eun-sae.”

And then the subtle silence that always fell between my first and last name when he needed to call me.

After much thought, the conclusion was clear.

It felt like my breath was about to stop.