Back Home
Jung Eunhye:
"Calling all passengers, we advise you fasten your seatbelts as we make our descend."
I quickly buckle my seatbelt as the plane lands smoothly on the runway.
“I'm home." I whisper to myself as I carry my luggage out of the plane.
South Korea will always be different from the North. It's really good to be back. Spending two years in Pyongyang taking pictures of the ongoing war, famine and what not there is really exhausting. My photos have been featured in magazines and websites in South Korea but I'm always credited as "Anonymous" because what I do isn't really allowed.
My name is Jung Eunhye and I'm a 21 year old war photographer. It's a really long story how I got a flight to the North and how I got this one back to Seoul. Let's just say it involved a lot of blackmail which is illegal, I know. I get paid a decent amount of money for these photos and taking them was just my dream. Of course, every dream had to be cut short as my dad suffered a stroke and won't be able to take care of my little brother, Daewong anymore. My mom has been dead for as long as I can remember so that leaves me with no choice but to come sprinting back to Seoul to take care of them.
Of course I doubted myself first. I thought if I should really just come back after fulfilling my dreams then I thought about Appa. He was the one who took care of us and paid for my photography class in the first place and what kind of daughter would I be if I didn't help him right now? When they told me the news of his stroke, for some odd reason I didn't cry. Sometimes I wonder if the hardships in Pyongyang have made me numb or if I just got to use to being the one who had to pull herself together because showing any form of emotion will just give people a chance to see right through you. It's not like I want to be the emotionless monster people see me as but in order for Daewong to live a good life then I will have to just suck it in.
My head hurts like crazy from the number of cameras that were flashing around the airport. What the hell is going on here? I look around and see some boys, just about my age walking at the airport like it was a freaking catwalk. Well, the people seem to be enjoying it as they take their pictures.
Who the hell are these boys? Oh... I get it. Celebrities, who else? Well, unlike me... some people waste their expensive, auto-focused and high definition cameras in taking pictures of those who dress like they decided to throw away a million dollars on an outfit they'll wear to the airport. To the freaking airport, if I counted right, ten. Yes, ten pretty boys wearing sunglasses and being treated like Greek gods. Psh, please.
Suddenly my suitcase gets knocked over by this boy wearing sunglasses. I hiss in annoyance and he seems to hear me.
"Mianhe. I didn't see." he says. With those sunglasses on, who would? Seriously? It looks like his glasses were made of pure darkness and his cheeks were pink as well. His voice also sounded nasal, like he's been crying... a lot.
"It's okay." I answer as I pick it up.
"Kyaaaaa~ Baekhyun! Over here!" I heard a girl scream towards our direction. He looks at her and I'm immediately blinded by the flash of a camera. So he's one of them.
He bows immediately and runs towards the other ten that I saw a while ago, so it's eleven then. Eleven pretty boy celebrities at the airport. Eleven? Something about that number just feels so... imperfect. Tsk. It's probably just me.
I get on a taxi and give the driver the address to my aunt's home near Gangnam. She was the one who took care of my dad and Daewong after what happened. But unfortunately, she can't do it on her own and needs my financial help. Besides the fact that her husband just left her for another woman, she was also just 32. She didn't have a very good career either. She was a housewife and now she's trying to stand on her own.
