Chaebol Princess
Copyright© 2026 by Komiko Yakamura
Chapter 10
The interview request came from the biggest entertainment program in Korea and Oh Sung Pil said yes before anyone thought to ask Eun Bae.
Sora found out from the production coordinator and went directly to the garden set where Eun Bae was between takes eating a rice cake with the focused efficiency of someone refueling.
“They want you on Star Avenue,” Sora said.
“What is Star Avenue.”
“The biggest entertainment interview program in the country. Thirty million viewers every Saturday night. The host is Lim Chae Won and she has made grown men cry on camera and she does it nicely which is somehow worse.”
Eun Bae finished the rice cake. “When.”
“This Saturday.”
“What do they want to know.”
“Everything. Where you came from. Where you trained. Your childhood. Your family.” Sora paused. “Your personal life.”
Eun Bae looked at her.
“I know,” Sora said.
“My personal life.”
“I know.”
“Which does not exist in any record this country can access.”
“I know, Eun Bae.”
They looked at each other.
“Tell them yes,” Eun Bae said.
Sora opened her mouth.
“One thing at a time,” Eun Bae said, and held her hand out for another rice cake.
Saturday arrived and Sora spent the preceding forty eight hours in a state of low grade panic that she managed by cleaning the apartment three times and reorganizing Eun Bae’s side of the closet by color and making three different kinds of soup that nobody asked for.
Tangerine supervised from the counter with the expression of someone who found all of this completely predictable.
Eun Bae sat on the couch reading the episode six script and did not reorganize anything.
“She’s going to ask about your family,” Sora said, stirring the third soup. “She always asks about family. And your training. And where you grew up.”
“I grew up in a large household with many people managing my daily schedule,” Eun Bae said without looking up. “That is true.”
“And your training?”
“I was trained from childhood by people whose methods were extremely traditional.” She turned a page. “Also true.”
“And your family.”
“A large and historically significant family.” She turned another page. “Also completely true.”
Sora stared at the soup. “You’re going to answer thirty million people’s questions with things that are technically accurate and completely misleading.”
“I am going to answer thirty million people’s questions honestly,” Eun Bae said. “The interpretation is their responsibility.”
Tangerine looked at Sora.
Sora looked at Tangerine.
“We are,” Sora told him, “completely fine.”
The Star Avenue studio was large and bright and smelled of the particular combination of hairspray and anxiety that Eun Bae had come to associate with filming locations. The set was arranged around two chairs and a low table — conversational, intimate, designed to make guests feel comfortable enough to say things they would later regret.
Lim Chae Won was fifty two, impeccably dressed, and had the quality of a person who listened to what you said and also to what you didn’t say and found the second thing more interesting. She stood when Eun Bae came onto the set and extended her hand with a professional warmth that was also, Eun Bae noted, completely genuine.
She received the handshake. She assessed the woman.
Formidable. Intelligent. Patient.
This would be an interesting thirty minutes.
They sat.
The floor director counted down.
The cameras went live.
Lim Chae Won smiled at thirty million people and then turned to Eun Bae with the specific quality of attention that had made grown men cry on camera.
“Park Eun Bae ssi,” she said. “Korea wants to know everything about you.”
“That is very flattering,” Eun Bae said.
“Let’s start at the beginning. Where are you from?”
“The Hanyang area,” Eun Bae said. “My family has been there for many generations.”
“Hanyang.” Lim Chae Won smiled. “The old name for Seoul. Very traditional family indeed.”
“Extremely.”
“And your childhood. How would you describe it?”
“Structured,” Eun Bae said. “Every hour of every day was accounted for. My education was thorough and my schedule was managed by a considerable number of people with strong opinions about how I should spend my time.”
“That sounds quite demanding.”
“It was preparation,” Eun Bae said. “For a role I was expected to fulfill.” She paused. “I ultimately fulfilled a different one.”
Lim Chae Won looked at her with the eyes of a woman who had heard thirty years of carefully managed answers and knew one when she heard it. “And your acting training?”
“I trained under people whose methods would not be familiar to most modern institutions,” Eun Bae said. “The emphasis was on complete internal commitment to one’s role. There was no separation between the performance and the performer. You did not act the part. You became it.”
“That explains,” Lim Chae Won said, “what everyone watching Flowers of the Inner Court has been saying since episode one.” She leaned forward slightly. “Critics have said your portrayal of the Crown Princess is the most authentic Joseon performance ever filmed. That you don’t seem to be acting at all. How do you respond to that?”
Eun Bae looked at her calmly. “I respond that I am very committed to my research.”
The audience laughed.
Lim Chae Won smiled. “And Kwon Sang-woo? Working with Korea’s most beloved actor?”
“Sang-woo ssi is extremely professional,” Eun Bae said. “And very skilled at his work.”
“Just professional?”
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