The door opened.
A wave of sound, a mix of Korean and English, crashed against everyone's eardrums like a tsunami.
"Mr. Allen!"
"Look over here!"
"The Lawrence Family! Welcome home!"
Hundreds of reporters and fans completely blocked the exit of the VIP channel, and the silver ocean of flashing lights overshadowed the daylight.
That dazzling red banner, like a triumphal city gate, every word on it declared a fanatic possession.
"The Pride of the Peninsula Nation."
Lee Soo-ji's face instantly turned pale, and the fear from three years ago seized her again.
She instinctively turned sideways, shielding the sixteen-year-old Allen behind her.
"Everyone!"
Lee Soo-ji took a deep breath and spoke in Korean to the countless cameras and microphones in front of her.
"Thank you all for your enthusiasm, truly, thank you very much."
She bowed slightly, her posture graceful and humble.
"However, our return this time is mainly for my personal art exhibition. My son, Allen, is still just a student, still at an age where he is growing."
She raised her head, her gaze sincerely sweeping over the enthusiastic faces.
"Please, give him some space, I beg you."
Her words were soft, yet carried an undeniable request.
However, there were always discordant voices.
"Allen! There are rumors in Hollywood that the script for pirates of the caribbean was not written by you, and that you are just a figurehead put forward by your father. How do you respond to this?"
This question was extremely malicious.
The air in the venue instantly solidified.
The Peninsula reporters' gazes towards their colleague also turned unfriendly.
Before anyone could react, the reporter threw out a second question, even more condescending.
"As a Hollywood screenwriter with Peninsula heritage, how do you think the local film market of the Peninsula compares to Hollywood? Where are the gaps?"
This question was more like a trap.
Saying the Peninsula was good would be considered a polite lie.
Saying the Peninsula was not good would make headlines in all newspapers tomorrow, with a title probably like "Peninsula Bloodline Genius Disregards Homeland, Calls Peninsula Films Trash."
Lee Soo-ji's body tensed, and she was about to retort.
Allen stepped out from behind his mother.
He was a head taller than his mother, his tall and straight figure carrying the lean quality unique to a young man.
Facing that ocean of flashing lights, enough to suffocate any adult, his face, however, wore a calm, almost nonchalant smile.
He did not look at the provocative reporter, but instead took the microphone from a female reporter from Korean KBS TV nearby.
"Thank you."
He thanked them in English, and then, to everyone's surprised gaze, he cleared his throat and began to speak in a slightly unfamiliar but clearly articulated Korean.
"First of all, my surname is Lawrence."
His voice, transmitted through the microphone, echoed throughout the venue, carrying the clear brightness unique to a young man.
"I am incredibly proud that my father is John Lawrence; he is my Hero, and he was the first reader of my script."
He paused, his gaze turning to the reporter whose face was beginning to change, his smile unwavering.
"As for the second question..."
He looked around, at the young fans holding support signs with nervous faces, at the Peninsula reporters holding cameras with expectant looks.
"I believe that the potential of a country's film market does not depend on who it compares itself to, nor does it depend on how much funding it has."
"Rather, it depends on how many filmmakers in that country dare to dream, and how many pairs of eyes are willing to pay for those dreams."
The entire airport exit fell into a three-second silence.
Immediately, thunderous applause and cheers erupted!
"Well said!"
"Amazing! Allen!"
The Peninsula reporters were red-faced with excitement, frantically pressing their shutters, documenting this moment that filled them with national pride.
Allen's answer was flawless.
He strongly defended his family's honor and, with a very high-minded approach, avoided the malicious trap, instead praising the entire Peninsula film industry.
The provocative reporter's face turned green and then white, completely submerged in the surrounding colleagues' praise and disdain.
Not far away, a black Hyundai minivan slowly drove past.
A crack opened in the car window.
Inside the car, a middle-aged man in a high-quality suit with slicked-back hair watched the almost frantic scene outside and curled his lip in disdain.
He was Kim Young-min, an executive at S&M Entertainment and one of Lee Soo-man's right-hand men.
"Hmph, just an American kid relying on a good dad. The media is getting more and more exaggerated." He snorted coldly at the agent beside him, "This kind of over-praise will lead to a devastating fall within three years."
The agent echoed his words repeatedly, not daring to show any dissent.
Kim Young-min rolled up the car window, cutting off everything outside.
In his opinion, such a "genius" hyped up by bloodline and topic was just another bubble in the capital market.
In the chaotic crowd, Allen's gaze inadvertently swept past.
He saw the edge of the crowd.
There was a thin little girl there, about eleven or twelve years old, wearing an ill-fitting, oversized trainee T-shirt, with an S&M company name tag on her chest.
She wasn't screaming wildly like the others; she was just standing on tiptoes, trying to peek curiously through the gaps in the crowd.
Her eyes were large and bright, like two unpolished obsidian stones, filled with the purest curiosity about this world.
At that moment, Allen's gaze met hers.
The girl, like a startled fawn, jumped, quickly lowered her head, her cheeks flushing, not daring to look again.
Allen, however, froze in place.
It was as if a thunderclap had exploded in his mind.
The sounds of the entire world—the reporters' questions, the fans' screams, his parents' calls—everything faded away in an instant.
In his world, only that face remained.
That tender, innocent face, still with a bit of baby fat.
Choi Seol-ri.
This name, like a poisoned ice needle, pierced deeply into Allen's heart.
He remembered her.
