Orla:

The days following my decision to take the stunt rider job moved in a blur. Nara’s workplace was a whirlwind of activity, with everyone working to get my work visa pushed through as a priority. Normally, this process would take a month or more, but Nara, having some connections to the immigration office, managed to push it through in just two weeks. How she managed this, I had no idea. I could hardly keep up with the speed at which things were happening. Joon was particularly anxious to get me started, checking in every few days to make sure there were no delays. His eagerness added to the mounting pressure I felt, knowing that so much was riding on this opportunity.

Finally, the day arrived. My visa had come through, and Joon wasted no time in getting me to the stables on the outskirts of Seoul. It was a beautiful spot, surrounded by rolling hills and lush greenery—a stark contrast to the bustling city I’d come to know. The stables were well-kept and spacious, home to a number of horses that had been trained specifically for film production. These weren’t just any horses; they were seasoned professionals, just like the actors they worked with.

As I walked through the stable, the smell of hay and the sound of soft nickers greeted me, instantly calming my nerves. This was familiar ground for me, something that felt like home. The stable hands were busy at work, brushing down the horses and prepping them for the day’s activities. They greeted me with polite nods, and I did my best to introduce myself, even with the limited Korean I knew. Luckily, most of them spoke enough English to understand the basics, and I could tell they were curious about this foreigner who’d suddenly appeared in their midst.

Joon was waiting for me by the ring, his usual brisk demeanor softened by a genuine smile. “You ready for this?” he asked, nodding towards the line of horses being led out.

I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “Yeah, I think so.”

“This is an important day, Orla. The director wants to see you in action. If everything goes well, you’ll be training the other actors. No pressure, right?”

I forced a smile, though my heart was pounding. “Right. No pressure at all.”

But as soon as the words left my mouth, the reality of the language barrier hit me. I’d picked up enough basic Korean to get by, but working with an entire cast and crew? That felt like navigating an ocean with no map—an overwhelming challenge that grew bigger the more I thought about it.

Nara had assured me she’d handle it by arranging for a translator, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t be enough. Communication shouldn’t be one-sided, and I wanted to meet them halfway. Maybe I’d have to look into private lessons—something Nara had already hinted she’d be more than willing to help set up.

Joon gestured for one of the stable hands to bring over a horse. The man led out a stunning black Andalusian, its coat gleaming in the morning light. The horse moved with a grace and power that took my breath away. The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew we were going to get along just fine.

“This is Raven,” Joon said, introducing the horse as he handed me the reins. “He’s one of our best.”

Raven,” I said aloud, letting the name roll off my tongue. It felt unusual in this country, yet perfectly suited for such a majestic and graceful horse.

As if reading my thoughts, Joon said, "He used to belong to an Englishman who moved here for his wife, so his commands should be easy for you to pick up since they’re in english. I want to see how well you can move with him, so let’s see what you’ve got."

I took the reins, feeling a rush of emotion as I stroked Raven’s neck. The horse nickered softly, his eyes calm. It had been so long since I’d felt this connection, and it was like a piece of me that had been missing was finally snapping back into place.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered to Raven, feeling the tension in my body start to melt away. I led him out to the ring, where a small crowd had gathered to watch.

As I walked, memories from my past started to surface, swirling around in my mind like the dust beneath Raven's hooves. Horses had been a part of my life ever since my mother put me in therapy as a child. It was so long ago, yet I could still remember how it all began.

I was always the quiet one—too quiet. Some might have even called me a mute. My parents grew worried, convinced something must be wrong with me. But it wasn’t that I couldn’t speak; it was that I never knew what to say. Words felt alien, and I constantly feared they’d either come out wrong or fall on deaf ears. So, I chose silence instead.

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Concerned, my parents put me in therapy. It was there that it was suggested I should socialize with animals, a way to break through the walls I’d built around myself. My parents, ever concerned with appearances, chose the most prestigious animal farm they could find. They always looked for the best of everything, not for me, but for the status it brought them.

That’s how I ended up at a ranch in San Pedro Valley. It was a place far removed from the pristine life my parents envisioned for me, but there, amidst the open fields and the gentle nicker of horses, I found a voice I didn’t know I had. The horses didn’t judge me; they didn’t care if my words stumbled or if I hesitated. Eventually, I started riding them, and before long, I was wrangling them too. I’d found a world where I belonged, where I didn’t need words to communicate, just trust and understanding.

But my parents never knew the extent to which I had become familiar with that world. They didn’t see the bond I had formed with the animals, the way the ranch had become a second home. All they saw was their daughter getting too close to a life they didn’t approve of—a life that didn’t fit their vision of success. The moment they realized what was happening, they pulled me out of there as fast as they could. In their eyes, I was cured—I was talking again, after all, and that was all that mattered to them.

Little did they know, once I went to college, I snuck back to working with horses again. This time, I wasn’t the one in therapy—I was the one showing kids how to ride, helping them find their own voices just as I had found mine. On the side, I began doing stunt work for a few B-list movies. It was a world I loved, a world I thrived in, until I met Logan.

I met Logan in a boring economics course—one of those required classes for the business degree my parents had pushed me into. He was sharp, ambitious, and everything my parents had always wanted for me. But he never understood that part of me, the part that came alive around horses. To him, my “little riding hobby” was a waste of time, something to be dismissed and belittled. Eventually, I let go of that world, convinced that it wasn’t practical, that it didn’t fit with the life I was supposed to lead.

But here I was, back in the ring, with the familiar feel of the reins in my hands and the soft, comforting presence of a horse beneath me. Maybe this was where I was meant to be all along.

The set crew and director was there, along with a few of the extras who would be learning from me if today went well. I could feel their eyes on me, a mix of curiosity and skepticism. I knew they were sizing me up, wondering if I was really up to the task. But as I mounted Raven, all those doubts faded into the background. This was where I belonged—on horseback, in the saddle, where the world made sense.

I gave Raven a gentle nudge, and he responded immediately, moving with a smooth, fluid grace that sent a thrill through me. We started with a slow trot, getting to know each other, and it didn’t take long for us to fall into a rhythm. The world around us disappeared as we moved together, horse and rider, as one.

After a few laps around the ring, I felt confident enough to pick up the pace. I gave Raven the signal, and he broke into a canter, his powerful strides eating up the ground beneath us. The wind whipped through my hair, the adrenaline coursing through my veins as we circled the ring with ease. It was pure joy—something I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

As we slowed to a stop, I could hear the murmurs of approval from the set crew. Joon was watching intently, his arms crossed, but there was a smile on his face that told me I’d done well.

“You’ve still got it,” he said, nodding in approval as I dismounted. “That was impressive, Orla. The director’s loving it.”

I couldn’t help but smile, the praise filling me with a sense of accomplishment I hadn’t felt in years. “Thanks. I’m glad I didn’t disappoint.”

As I handed Raven off to one of the stable hands, Joon approached, a pleased expression on his face. “That went better than I expected. Raven was very responsive.” he said. “We’ll be able to start filming the scenes with the second lead sooner than we thought.”

I couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. “When do you think that’ll be?”

“Not long after the first few table reads for the first episode,” Joon replied, checking his schedule on his phone. “And I’m hoping to set up Milo with Raven as his horse.”

I blinked, surprised. “Wait, Milo? You mean Milo Lee? As in, the K-pop star?”

Joon nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, this is his first acting debut. The director is hoping this should push this series into the realms of the likes of Hwarang: The Poet Warrior Youth. We’ve got high hopes for it.”

My mind raced as I processed the information. Milo was going to be the second lead? The same Milo I’d met on the plane? The coincidence felt almost too surreal to believe. Then I remembered Nara mentioning that one of the members of ADRIIFT would be part of the cast. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now it all made sense.

But then, a pang of anxiety hit me as the realization settled in. Milo Lee from the plane—the same Milo I hadn’t been able to muster the courage to DM—was the second lead in this drama. And now, I would be working with him, in close proximity, every day. My heart pounded at the thought. I had avoided reaching out, convinced that whatever connection we had on that flight was just a fleeting moment. But now, fate was throwing us back together, and I had no choice but to confront him. The idea of facing him again, knowing I had been too scared to take that first step, made my stomach twist with nerves. This wasn’t just some passing encounter anymore—this was real, and there was no avoiding it now.