Milo:

  Sitting in the conference room at Haneul Tower, flipping through the thick script of The Emperor’s Sword, I tried to process everything the director had just thrown at us. The story was massive—set in a fictionalized version of Silla Korea, packed with political drama, love triangles, and betrayals. A full-blown historical epic.

  My character, General Haruto, was the Emperor’s right-hand man—a fierce warrior exiled from his homeland, now sworn to serve the King of Korea. Once a revered samurai, his loyalty had been questioned, forcing him to flee and start over in a foreign land. Duty kept him grounded, but everything unravels when he falls for Lady Han Seol-ah, the Emperor’s new concubine. What starts as admiration turns into something dangerous, a tightrope walk between devotion and treason.

  Why they chose me to play a Japanese warrior was beyond me. Apparently, I had more of the "look" they wanted than the guy playing the lead. Whatever the producers were thinking, I hoped they were right—I barely knew any Japanese outside of the bits Daiki had taught me.

  This role was a game-changer, but it came with challenges—elaborate fight sequences, deep political intrigue, and, most of all, portraying a man torn between honor and a love that could ruin him.

  The table read was a mix of excitement and intimidation. The lead actor, a veteran with over a decade of experience, embodied Emperor Gyeonhwi with such natural authority that even his casual line delivery had weight. The actress playing Queen Na-rae Cheon was razor-sharp, her performance dripping with elegance and quiet menace. Then there was Shin Eun-ha as Lady Han—young but already a powerhouse. She didn’t just read her lines; she owned them. You couldn’t ignore her, even if you tried.

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  And then there was me—the rookie in a room full of seasoned pros. Sure, I had a name in music, but acting was a whole different world. Watching them, I questioned if I really belonged here. Still, I wasn’t about to back down. I had something to prove.

  The director mostly observed, only stepping in occasionally with notes. By the time we wrapped up, I felt good about it. Then he brought up something I’d been dreading: my look.

  General Haruto needed to look intense, battle-hardened. My bleached-blond hair wasn’t cutting it. They wanted it dark, longer, roughened up—full-on samurai warrior mode. I got it, but changing my signature look still felt like letting go of something familiar.

  Before I could overthink it, Eun-ha approached, beaming as she held out her script. “Milo, I’m such a big fan!” she said, voice full of genuine excitement. “Could you sign this for me? I’m so excited we’ll be working together.”

  I blinked. One of the leads—one of them—wanted my autograph? If anything, I should’ve been the one asking her. But I kept it cool, taking the script and signing it. “Thanks, Eun-ha-ssi. I’m really looking forward to this.”

  Before I could dwell on how surreal that moment was, a throat cleared nearby. Two women approached—Kim Nara, one of the producers, and the 1st Assistant Director. They had my schedule for horse training.

  “Horse training?” I asked.

  Nara nodded. “Time is money, Milo. We need to get you ready as soon as possible. You start in two days.”

  The 1st AD handed me a folder. “You’ll be training with Orla O’Connell. She’s new to the team but highly recommended.”

  My heart skipped.

  Orla.

  It couldn’t be her. Right? We never exchanged last names on the plane, never expected to cross paths again. But O’Connell? That wasn’t exactly common around here.

  Could it really be the same Orla?

  ?Sky Mincharo