Chapter 6 : Initiation Ceremony (2)

If a stranger had seen it, they would have said,

“Are those students trying to be funny?”

My classmates’ performances were a complete disaster.

After the chubby boy, the next student, having learned from his predecessor’s mistake, shouted his lines.
However, his poor vocal control resulted in his voice cracking.

A girl’s cringe-worthy princess act almost made me scratch my thighs involuntarily.

They returned to their seats, listened to my words of comfort, and each wore a strange expression.

The highlight was Kim Junseok.

He delivered Hamlet’s famous line, “To be or not to be, that is the question,” in a grave voice. Combined with his amateur acting skills, the entire auditorium erupted in laughter.

“Ha… Ha… Good job. You were totally Hamlet.”

I even wiped away my tears of laughter as I delivered my feedback, leaving Junseok with a bewildered expression.

It was Dojun’s turn.
I was next, and Hyelin would be the grand finale.

Dojun walked onto the stage with an indifferent expression.

“I’m Han Dojun from the Information and Communications Department. I’ll begin my performance.”

His voice didn’t waver in the slightest.
I anticipated his performance.

Dojun’s talent was awe-inspiring, to say the least.

‘What kind of performance will you show me?’

My heart pounded with excitement at the prospect of witnessing this again.

Dojun took a slow breath, taking his time to build up his emotions.

When everyone’s attention was focused on him, and a hushed silence fell upon the auditorium…

He began.

“I’ve lived a timid life. I simply can’t understand human existence.”

His low, steady voice resonated through the space.
He slowly covered his face with both hands.

“I’m pathetic. So pathetic that I can’t even kill myself.”

His voice was filled with sorrow.
It made my throat tighten.

He removed his hands, revealing his face.
He wore a truly sorrowful smile.

I felt a lump in my throat. His body began to tremble.

“Everyone, I’m smiling. I’m so happy I could fly.”

Tears welled up in his eyes. In contrast, his smile widened.
One drop, two drops…
The drops turned into streams, creating paths.

The tear-streaked paths flowed towards the corners of his lips. I could hear his ragged breaths.

He could no longer maintain the smile.
He simply wept.

An eternity of silence passed.

Then, as if yearning for something, he extended a trembling hand towards the audience.

And delivered his final line.

“Do I look happy to you?”

As soon as the performance ended, Dojun spoke in a flat voice,
“That’s all.”

A brief silence, then applause.
I joined in, still dazed.

Dojun’s performance possessed a captivating power that ordinary people lacked.

Kang Haerin, the first to recover, expressed her amazement.

“What are you? An aspiring actor? I have nothing more to teach you.”
“I studied on my own.”

His crying scene alone was praiseworthy.
But the depth of emotion and raw power he displayed wasn’t something you’d expect from someone his age.

If even she, as the instructor, felt this way, how must the other students be feeling? Were they awestruck by this force of nature?

She was reminded once again of how unfair God could be.

“Han Dojun. I’ll remember your name. Don’t even dream of going anywhere else.”
“Yes.”

Haerin found the back of Dojun’s head, as he calmly returned to his seat, strangely endearing.
With him as the lead, winning competitions wouldn’t be a dream.

“Next, Lee Haram.”

After the monster that was Han Dojun, she pitied the next performer. Kang Haerin gave me a sympathetic look as I walked onto the stage.

Seeing him return to his seat with an indifferent expression, as if nothing had happened, was infuriating.
I turned to Dojun.

“…You crazy bastard.”
“You’re next. What are you waiting for?”
“I’m going out of spite. You nuclear bomb of a person.”

I adjusted my clothes and stood up.
As I left, Hyelin gave Dojun a resentful look.

“D… Dojun, what’s… what’s Haram supposed to do after that?”
“Don’t worry about her.”
“D… Don’t worry?”
“She’s always acting anyway. She can’t possibly mess this up.”
“Huh…?”
“Just watch. You’ll understand what I mean.”

Dojun frowned as he watched me, a habit he had when concentrating.

The instructor spoke to me.

“Haram, aren’t you smiling too much already? Even if Dojun blew everyone away, I won’t forgive a half-hearted performance.”

She must have thought I had given up, seeing me smile before performing a tragic role.

In reality, the opposite was true.
I had initially planned to do a decent, but not outstanding, job.
But Dojun’s performance ignited a competitive fire within me.

‘Fine. Let’s see who wins.’

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

A protagonist experiencing a tragic event.
I knew that person very well.

I had to prepare.
I had to be ready to fall to the very bottom.

I closed my eyes and drew on my emotions, focusing all my senses on hearing.

When I could hear every swallow, every breath in the room…
I began.

“I’m Lee Haram from the Information and Communications Department. I’ll begin my performance now.”

As I started, I swallowed an imaginary needle.

And shattered the mask.

After my mother’s funeral, when even my sister abandoned me…
I wanted to die.

I knew no one would mourn my death.
I was confident I could die unnoticed if I chose the right method.

I wanted to die.

But…

The world didn’t grant my wish.
As if it hated the idea of me finding peace, it threw a painful truth at me.

While organizing my mother’s belongings, I found a hidden box in the corner of her closet.

Inside were hundreds of unsent letters.
Letters spanning from the day I enlisted in the military to the day before my mother took her own life.

The recipient section was left blank, but I knew they were for me.

I couldn’t leave until I had read every single one.

I had heard that my mother had been taking antidepressants.
Yet, every letter was filled with love and concern.

The escape I thought was my own was built on someone else’s sacrifice.

You worried about me.
You knew why I chose the military, so you deceived yourself every single day.

There’s a saying:
If you tell a lie, you have to swallow a needle.

Then…

How many needles did you swallow?

Was I so precious to you that you swallowed needles every day?

How much pain did you endure, swallowing needles for every letter you wrote?

Did you not trust me that much?

How little did you trust me that even the letter written the day before you jumped was filled with love and worry for me?

I opened my eyes, pushing away the memories.
I looked at the faces staring back at me, their eyes wide.

They wouldn’t understand.
They would think I was just acting out a tragedy.

My daily life was a performance.
I desperately acted out normalcy, hiding this ugly truth within me.

That’s why…

This was the closest I could get to my true self.

I forced my trembling facial muscles to stay still.
If I let go, even I didn’t know what expression I would make, so I maintained strict control.

Look at me, everyone. This selfish human is who I truly am.

They still thought I was acting.
Their silence, their lack of condemnation, confirmed it.

I realized my true feelings couldn’t reach them.
A bitter smile crept onto my face.

Pain was like that.
A scratch on my skin hurt more than seeing someone else’s finger cut off.

I could imagine your pain.
But mine was greater.
At least, that’s how I felt.

I resented you for inflicting this pain on me.
I was selfish, and I couldn’t help but blame you.

I gritted my teeth.
And exhaled a shaky breath.

I didn’t fully inhale. I couldn’t. I was a person who only knew failure. The act of taking a full, complete breath was beyond me.

Holding onto that feeling of incompleteness…
When my eyes became empty…

I spoke.

“If you loved me that much, why didn’t you tell me?”

It was a resentful accusation from a selfish human being.
A resentment towards the person who hid their heart in letters.
A resentment towards you, who couldn’t express your love until your death.

I poured all my emotions into that single sentence and put the mask back on.

And swallowed another needle.
I let out a cheerful, harmless laugh and announced,

“My performance is over.”

Kang Haerin groaned, then muttered,

“…What are you?”

She couldn’t have said anything else.