"This is the best film set I've ever seen," was my first thought, as I tried to take it all in. Everything, from the village people to the dust on the roads—was so real. No other word for it. "Um, it's very nice," I offered, once I could talk again.
"We tried." But pride beamed through Chi's expression as he spoke. It wasn't an arrogant pride though, but more like the type of pride that parents have while looking at their children. "We couldn't give as much as we wanted to everyone, but it was important that people had clean, safe homes to live in. They're warm too, during the winter."
"Very impressive." It was, too. But are extras supposed to act natural like that between takes? Maybe everyone on this set—Chi included—decided to take method acting to a whole new level.
"My uncle started good work in Goryeo. It's good to see it continue."
"Mmm." My mind wandered to my grandma's favourite Goryeo dramas, trying to piece together which royal family member this drama might be about. I never paid a lot of attention to history—unless it was plant history, that was—but my grandma loved it. Taejo was the founder, I remembered, but his son, Gwangjong, was actually more effective and famous over his lifetime. That would make Gwangjong the likely set of brains behind this type of housing project. If Chi was his nephew…I paused my thoughts. I'd suddenly remembered my grandma telling me about Taejo's sons. Gwangjong was the longer ruler after Taejo's death, but there were other brothers who could have easily taken the throne. Some of them did, in varying increments. One who didn't, but was granted a "king" title posthumously was King Daejong, I remembered. King Daejong had been put in home confinement, once Gwangjong was in power, or at least the drama I'd seen had put him in confinement in his hometown. And his son was named Chi.
Amazing how all of that could come back, fuelled by memories of watching grainy, low-res costume dramas.
I had to say, production values had greatly increased over the past ten years or so. Looking at the village streets, the extras, Chi's costume—mine too—everything felt less chintzy and more realistic. "Amazing," I murmured under my breath, before turning to face Chi. I was glad we were around people again, not just the two of us on our own. It made the weird experience less scary. Not that I think Chi would do anything to me, I realized. Maybe he was just eccentric, passionate about what he did. I could relate to that. Well—at least I could at one time. But still, I realized, a bit uneasily, there were too many unanswered questions. Like how did I get here, so far away from my house? And why was I in these clothes? I didn't know much about film sets, either, but I knew enough about behind-the scenes productions to know that there was usually some type of filming paraphernalia around, along with various, normally clothed, technicians and crew. There was none of that here, none I could see, at least.
I took a deep breath. Maybe it wasn't the best idea, but I needed more information about where I was and what I was doing here. And who Chi was in real life. "Remind me again…how long was your father confined to his hometown?" Chi gave me a bit of an odd look. Admittedly, it was a bit of a weird question. "Sorry, it's just been a long time. And…" I thought fast. "I'm impressed by how much has changed."
Chi nodded, accepting the question, though his mouth set into a grim line—not menacing, but the look of someone remembering something painful. "Eleven years."
"Oh, my, that must have been hard."
"It was. Although I didn't know any different when I was very young. As I got older and visited the palace more, I felt for Father and Mother, but not for myself."
"How come?"
"There's much to be said for a happy home. And ours was, mostly. Especially with Father. It wasn't always easy for him to be confined, when he was used to being out and about, but my sisters and I were always loved and valued by him. And besides…" he grimaced again, a darkness clouding his warm features. "The palace life isn't an easy life. Many are better without it."
"Oh? So your father didn't miss it at all?"
"Oh, he did, sometimes. But he contented himself with us. It's the role of any royal; to know when to fight, and to know when to accept what must be done."
We both let that sink in for a moment. Boy, this guy sure did his research.
"Besides," the wry humour returned to Chi's tone. "Royal or not, children fight. My father had twenty-six siblings. That meant I had more cousins than I could count. I think—for both of us—the solitary life was much more peaceful."
"Yes," I agreed, laughing a little as I thought of my elementary school days. Some of the scraps I saw would sometimes get so violent that the teachers would have to physically pry us apart. I couldn't imagine what type of fancy martial-arts tactics a Goryeo child would know.
Whoa.
I snapped myself back to reality. However vivid Chi's alternate—or past, or whatever—life was, it wasn't actually real. And I needed to stay on top of things, so I could somehow manage to find my way home. Wherever that was.
"And then you came with your father, so that he could try to heal my father. You were a very different child from most. Very observant. You loved to read, and pick flowers, and draw them." Actually, the kid-version of Ha-Na that Chi described sounded very much like the kid-version of myself, just Goryeo-d. But how could it be that Chi could describe this young girl in such amazing detail, the one that shared both my given name and a handful or quirky personality traits?
"What do I do?" I wondered, desperately. Part of me—a large part—wanted to get back home, asap. But another part—small, but bigger than I maybe would like to admit—wanted to stay with Chi. His stories were weird—both because of their period accuracy and their great detail—but they were also somehow warm, familiar. Like talking to a friend. And I had spent so long shutting out my friends, that I'd forgotten how it felt to share memories, to have long talks. To be known by someone.
My thoughts teeter-tottered as I decided how to respond, what to say next.
I need to get home. I need to get out of the house more, if my only "friend" is a method actor who seems to really believe he's in Goryeo. I need therapy.
I need to pee.
"Uh, speaking of children," How is this speaking of children? "Do you have a bathroom anywhere?"
Chi raised his eyebrow. "You want to take a bath?"
"Oh, no!" Most definitely method. How was I going to rephrase this? "I mean…I need…"
"Oh," understanding lit up his eyes. "Well, there's…" He pointed to a bunch of trees, several feet beyond the border of the village. Uh, no thanks. My thoughts must have shown on my face, because he turned a little pink. "I guess a lady wouldn't want…you never minded when you were young���but I guess I should have thought…" He shot me an embarrassed grin. "I apologize."
"No problem," I waved it off, since he seemed so visually flustered. Still, what was the problem here? Why was he suggesting that I basically pee in the woods? If this was a film set, surely there was some sort of washroom facility nearby? Even portable ones?
"If we walk more quickly, we'll be close to the palace soon. That is…if you can wait that long?" His tone took on a teasing edge, almost like a brother would talk to me. Great. Just what I needed, some guy thinking that I would pee myself. What was I, five?
"Yes, I'll be fine until we get to…the palace."
"Good." His eyes started dancing in amusement again. "If it's too far though, let me know. I can carry you the rest of the way."
"Daebak."
"Huh?"
"Wonderful," I clarified through clenched teeth. My pride may have been suffering a bit, but at least we were getting somewhere. I assumed that if we were now going to the "palace," we must be getting closer to the actual center of filming. Which means I can get the heck out of here.We walked quickly and in silence. Well, relatively quickly, considering that I was trying to not put too much pressure on my overfull bladder. Chi, being a regular Goryeo gentleman, tried to keep a steady pace beside me, while not lagging behind. "If he were a prince, for real, he'd be a good leader," I thought, albeit somewhat begrudgingly.
"Silence" was a relative term too, I quickly realized. As we made our way through the village—a "shortcut," according to Chi—nearly every "villager" stopped to greet him or bow to him. Most of the time, we could make our way through with him smiling and giving a simple nod. But when children came up to him, he always bent down to talk for longer. These people are really into this, I though, half grumpily, half awestruck. I had to pay them credit, though; at least they were emotionally involved in their jobs. They all called Chi "Prince Chi" or "Your Highness," and the children babbled on about when Prince Chi would come with rice again. Admittedly, seeing Chi with the children was my favourite part of my film-set experience. As bad as it sounds, I always was a sucker for hot men with cute kids.
"Sorry," Chi apologized when we finally made it through the last batch of extras. "We're almost there. Look." He pointed at something in the distance. I squinted to make it out, but as we got closer, I felt my heart drop, just a little.
Assuming that the palace would be my exit was wrong.
Because this palace was either a very accurate replica—or it was the real thing.