Chapter 62 : Talent (1)

There was a boy who beat his wings vigorously towards the world.
Loving the clicking sound of film, the boy dreamed of seeing himself projected on a screen someday.

The boy’s dream came true quickly.
A man, who was hard to call middle-aged, approached him and said,

“I’ll buy your time.”

At the time, he’d been suspicious of that man’s intentions. Now, he could only marvel at that man’s untouchable foresight.
The boy who’d learned to beat his wings soared.
A project he’d been lucky enough to participate in exploded in popularity, and he suddenly became a star in Chungmuro (Korean Hollywood).

And so, he was mistaken.
He was mistaken into thinking he was incredibly talented.

A short period of obscurity, a drastically changed environment, positive evaluations from those around him…
The product of his talent, which others craved so much, became a poison that blinded him.

The boy realized that he wasn’t the main character of the long movie that was life.

Following a suggestion from the businessman Lee Huiseok, he joined an entertainment company.
In the practice room, which hadn’t yet been tainted by the past and had an unfamiliar, clean scent, he met a woman.

She was acting in a practice room that had no audience.
The boy just stared blankly at her.
Because he’d realized a simple, yet sad, truth.

There were many uncut gems who dreamed of becoming actors in the world, but not everyone could make their dreams come true.
Only the ones who worked hard remained.
They remained because they were able to work hard.

And so, those who worked hard lived with sadness.
Because their talent hadn’t yet eclipsed their efforts.
The world couldn’t grant the hard workers the “surname” of talent.

Those who only had a first name lived with longing.
They looked up to those who had the surname, seeing them as different, nobles.

If hard work eclipsed talent, they were just above average. If talent eclipsed hard work, they were geniuses.

That was all there was to it.

That was how the story was supposed to go.

Han Geunseok recalled the meeting with a woman who had stolen the spotlight from his life.

The woman spoke to the boy, who was standing blankly in front of the practice room door.

“Who are you?”
“…I’m Han Geunseok.”
“Han… Geunseok? Aren’t you the actor who played Doochil in Director Oh’s movie?”

She grabbed the boy’s hands with both of hers, looking delighted.

“Seeing you here, I guess you signed a contract with Mr. Huiseok… I mean, President? Can I brag to my mom? That I’m in the same company as that Doochil.”
“Do whatever you want.”

The boy’s stiff reply made her widen her eyes like she’d remembered something, then she smiled sheepishly and said,

“Oh, I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’m Lee Suyeon.”

The scene in his memory changed.
If life had a script, this sentence would be written there:

‘On a rainy day, Han Geunseok and Lee Suyeon meet by chance in front of a building.’

It was probably around autumn, on a day with a drizzling rain.
Geunseok found Suyeon, who was hopping from foot to foot at the front gate.

“What are you doing?”
“Hehe, I don’t have an umbrella.”
“Should I buy you one from nearby?”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. More importantly, why are you leaving so late, Geunseok?”
“The president likes to show how passionate he is about movies, you know? I was practicing my acting until now.”
“I’m doing the same thing. Isn’t this totally a twist of fate?”

Geunseok chuckled at her words.
They were in the same company and working on the same project, so of course their time for going home would be the same. But he liked the way she framed it romantically.

“Oh, I have a good idea!”

She pointed at the umbrella Geunseok was holding and said,

“Isn’t that umbrella too big for just one person?”
“…I guess it is.”

And so, the two of them shared an umbrella.
The result was that Geunseok’s umbrella wasn’t really that big, and his right shoulder slowly got soaked.

He glanced over and saw that Suyeon’s left shoulder was also getting rained on.
But she smiled brightly, like she was having fun, and got even closer to him.

“The rain’s cold.”
“Yeah. What are you doing after this, Geunseok?”

She got even closer to Geunseok as she spoke.
Geunseok tried not to think about it and replied,

“I’ll probably shower, read the script a bit, read a book, and then go to sleep, right?”
“That’s boring. You should at least have a drink on a rainy day, don’t you think?”

“I don’t really like alcohol.”
“Then should we have a drink today? I should enlighten this poor soul who doesn’t like alcohol. Come on, I’m inviting you to my house.”

Suyeon linked her arm with Geunseok’s and pulled him along.
After a few arguments, their clothes were soaked enough to make the umbrella pointless, and Geunseok started laughing.
Suyeon, confused by his sudden laughter, asked,

“Why are you laughing?”
“I’m just thinking I’m glad I brought an umbrella today.”

The world narrowed to the size of the umbrella.
His right shoulder was being soaked by the cold rain, but he could feel her warm body temperature on the arm that was touching his.

Geunseok realized why people shared a single umbrella.
To get cold beforehand, in order to feel warmth.
This foolish action was melting his heart.

With just one small umbrella,
A world where everyone was a supporting character,
Transformed into their own childish story.

I didn’t know for sure, but probably,
That day’s camera was definitely focused on us.

***

Han Geunseok snapped out of his reverie.
A junior was calling to him.

“Geunseok Sir, who do you think did the best?”
“Blood is thicker than water, so of course it’s Dojun.”
“Weren’t you here to help us? Save the son-loving for other people.”

Geunseok gave a bitter smile.
Kang Haerin was a sore spot for Geunseok.

She was a junior he had worried about a lot, but he was relieved to see that she seemed to be satisfied with her current life.
He opened his mouth to Kang Haerin, who was chewing gum and frowning.

“Everyone has the basics down. And you have a more accurate eye for actors than I do, anyway.”
“That’s obvious. But I’m asking because I need your opinion.”
“Listen to you talk.”

Geunseok stroked his chin.
Not many people were seriously approaching the script and the characters, so he hadn’t been watching too closely.
Even so, there were a few actors he remembered.

“For the role of the Smiling Girl, it was Lee Hyelin? That friend’s acting had the most subtle flavor. And it seemed like she worked hard to study the character.”
“Oh, Hyelin? She’s good, isn’t she? I’ve always felt like her emotional descriptions are incredibly detailed. It would be nice if she could fix her stuttering, though.”
“She was doing fine when she was acting.”
“That’s true. She’s strangely articulate when she’s acting.”

After that, they agreed on a few roles, then the conversation turned to the Monster.
Geunseok frowned and said,

“The Monster is obviously that girl, right? What was her name… Lee Haram?”
“I don’t know. She scares me.”

Kang Haerin answered, shuddering.

“Why? She was good.”
“Being good is one thing. But when I look at Haram’s acting, there’s something unpleasant that I can feel from inside.”
“Unpleasant?”
“It’s a lot more toned down these days. Her first performance was really suffocating.”

Geunseok nodded and recalled Lee Haram’s performance from earlier.
She was following the script and expressing anger normally, but then she completely changed her expression at one line.

‘You’re scared of me, aren’t you?’

After saying that line, Lee Haram’s face slowly turned cold.
But, her emotions were still hot.

The strange smile she showed afterwards…
The way her eyes and mouth seemed to be moving separately, combined with the cold look and the hot emotions, made everyone feel a mysterious sense of unease.

‘I’ll stop you from smiling.’

Lee Haram said the line while maintaining that creepy smile.
And then, she slowly breathed in.

Everyone breathed along with her.
Before they knew it, everyone’s eyes were focused on the actor.

The cold anger that the Monster was showing…
It was just for a moment, but it was overwhelming.
The actor in front of them had a presence that made the efforts of others seem pointless.

A person whose talent eclipses their efforts.

A genius.

He could definitely describe her that way.

“Well, if she’s good, then that’s all that matters.”
“You were pretty harsh in front of the kids, but you’re giving her a pretty good review now?”

Haerin tilted her head as she scratched at the papers with a pen.
After Haram’s acting was over, Geunseok had given her a more critical evaluation than he had to the other actors.

Geunseok smiled wryly.

“I have to be harder on her because she’s good. People who run fast usually don’t know what’s behind them. Sometimes, you have to look behind you, look around, and know how to slow down so you don’t get hurt.”

People who only look ahead will get irreversible injuries someday.
Han Geunseok knew those people all too well.

Haerin made a pouty face and spoke to Geunseok.

“Anyway, it’s surprising that you’re helping the kids out, Geunseok Sir. If you were going to care about your juniors, you should have been nicer to me.”
“You seemed like you were going to be trouble from the first time I saw you. Why would I invest in a product that’s all flash and no substance?”
“Sir… are you good at fighting? I think I could beat you now.”

She glared at Geunseok with a fierce look.
Geunseok laughed and surrendered.

“Can’t I even tease my junior after seeing her for the first time in a while? I’m just being nice to the kids because it reminds me of the old days.”

Old memories that were bitter, sweet, and childish.

A hazy small umbrella blocked his view.