Chapter 2: Too Upright for This World

As he taught him over the course of several months,
Producer Jung naturally came to understand Seon-yul’s “true personality,” which was different from his outward appearance.

On days when torrential rain poured down,
Seon-yul would empty his pockets of money to help an elderly woman who sold goods in front of the station pack up and go home.
When Producer Jung’s kindergarten-aged son came to visit the recording studio,
Seon-yul would wear a gentle smile unlike his usual self and play with him.
And whenever he was late, there was always a reason.
Helping elderly people carry their luggage.
Assisting someone with a disability.
Taking a child who had lost their mother to the police station.
Catching a molester on the subway.
And so on.
Seon-yul could never walk past the weak, and his good deeds seemed endless.

“Didn’t you get into a fight at your previous academy?”
“What was that about?”

“They kept badmouthing someone behind her back.”

“You?”

“My teacher.”

“Which teacher?”

“Teacher Oh Su-ah.”

“Ah…”

Oh Su-ah was a voice actor who had originally been an actress.
Back when she was acting, there had been a film that finally brought her face to the public after years of obscurity.
It was a noir film that received considerable praise,
but unfortunately, it included a highly explicit bed scene featuring her.

Though the scene was brief,
people zoomed in on her body, slowed the footage down, and spread it across the internet as “moving GIFs.”
When Oh Su-ah announced she would file lawsuits,
malicious commenters mocked her, saying,
“She chose to act in a bed scene herself.
What, was someone threatening her with a knife?”
Even in the actual legal proceedings, only a handful of people were punished.

In the end, Oh Su-ah quit acting and chose the path of a voice actor,
where her face wouldn’t be exposed.
She grew into an excellent voice actor capable of handling a wide range of roles,
yet even now—more than ten years later—
her image from her acting days remained branded on her forehead like a scarlet letter.
Producer Jung, as someone working in the industry, knew all too well that many men still mocked her behind her back.

“Yeah.
Sounds like they deserved to get hit.”

“Yes.”

After hearing that Seon-yul had received a “Brave Citizen Award” twice—once in middle school and once in high school—
Producer Jung completely shed his prejudices against him.
Seon-yul wasn’t just kind.
He was someone who couldn’t endure power games or abuse of authority,
someone righteous who refused to compromise with injustice.

A great voice.
Excellent diction.
Outstanding acting.
Strong voice modulation.
Equally adept at documentaries, commercials, animation, and radio dramas.
Tall, handsome—someone who seemingly had it all.

And yet, the reason Kang Seon-yul was scraping the bottom as an unknown was precisely this.

Strong against the strong.
Gentle toward the weak.

Seon-yul was the person least suited to a culture ruled by old-school hierarchies.

**********

“Producer-nim, I’ll head out now.”

“Yeah.
I transferred your pay.”

“…Why so fast?”

“You little—complaining even when I pay you quickly?”
“I had an advance come in, that’s why.”

“Oh.
Okay.”

Producer Jung paid him using the small, precious emergency fund he had secretly saved from his wife.
It had been a long time since Seon-yul had taken on such a large recording job,
and not only had his skills not declined—they had improved, which made Jung proud.
At the same time, it pained him that someone with that level of talent was still stuck in a run-down rooftop studio apartment.
Thankfully, Seon-yul seemed to believe the “advance payment” explanation, and his expression brightened.
Afraid Seon-yul might sense his pity, which he hated,
Producer Jung waved his hands and hurriedly ushered him out.

“Go.
I’ll call you again if there’s more work.”

“Thank you.”

Seon-yul bowed politely and left the studio.
Normally, it took at least a month to receive payment for recordings like this,
and if the studio’s finances were bad or the client ran into issues,
sometimes you had to wait indefinitely.
Still, maybe the world wasn’t trying to kill him after all.
He opened his banking app, checked his balance, and let out a breath of relief.

‘Rent… phone bill… send Un-yul’s hospital money…’

This recording was narration for a long-form documentary produced by a cable channel,
so the rate was high.
It was enough to put out the immediate fire.

“Strangely… I’ve been lucky lately.”

A few days later, he had an audio drama recording.
It was just a minor supporting role,
but after barely getting any proper work since becoming a freelancer,
even that felt like a blessing.

Back when he was a contracted voice actor reporting to the broadcasting station,
he had endured malicious harassment,
but at least he was always standing in front of a microphone.
Now, no one called him,
and he feared he might forget the very air of a recording studio.

To survive, Seon-yul bounced between part-time jobs,
yet he never stopped printing scripts and reading them aloud to keep his edge.
Seeing work slowly trickle in again,
he wondered if the bad rumors about him had finally died down.

As he walked lightly toward the subway,
a franchise sushi restaurant caught his eye.
His mouth watered instinctively,
but he passed it by and entered a convenience store instead.

“That’ll be 1,400 won.”

He emptied his pockets of coins, bought a triangular rice ball,
and tore into the packaging at a small corner seat, stuffing it into his mouth.
He had neither the money nor the time for a proper meal.
His evening part-time shift was approaching fast.

He opened his map app and calculated the walking time to work.

Bzzz.

Just as he was checking the fastest route, his phone vibrated.
On the screen was the word “Mom,”
along with a photo of a middle-aged woman awkwardly holding up a peace sign with two fingers.
After barely chewing, Seon-yul swallowed and immediately answered the call.

“Yeah, Mom.”

– Son, have you eaten?

“Kind of.”

– How can you eat ‘kind of’?
You need to eat well.
My handsome son, struggling up there in Seoul.

“What struggle…”

Hearing his mother’s affection-dripping voice,
Seon-yul deliberately replied curtly.
Whenever she worried about him like this,
his heart always felt heavy, as if he’d committed a crime.
Maybe it was because he had come to Seoul, giving up college to chase his dream,
yet wasn’t living a respectable life.
His promise to succeed and let her live comfortably had turned into empty words.

He tossed the rice ball wrapper into the trash and stepped outside.

“Mom, how much was Un-yul’s hospital bill again?”
“I got paid today, so I can send it right away.”

– Already?

“An advance came in.”
“How much is it?”

– Um… well…

She hesitated.
Was the bill higher than expected?
Or had something else happened?
Seon-yul’s face hardened instantly.

“Is Un-yul not doing well somewhere?”

Last year, his younger sibling Un-yul, who had a visual impairment,
had burned himself while trying to cook alone at home.
Though he received immediate treatment,
scars were left on his left arm and neck.
The scarred area was extensive,
so Seon-yul had recommended reconstructive surgery.
But Un-yul had stubbornly refused.

“I can barely see anyway.
Why would I need reconstructive surgery?”
“And it’s not covered by insurance.
It’s a waste of money.”

Seon-yul had hoped their mother would persuade him,
but instead she said,
“He can live just fine like that.
Why bother with surgery?”
“With surgery and hospitalization, it’ll cost hundreds of thousands.
If you have that money, just give it to me.
I’ll use it well for living expenses.”

After much effort, Seon-yul convinced them both and the surgery succeeded,
but knowing his mother’s obsession with money,
he grew anxious whenever she stalled like this.

– No, it’s nothing like that.
Un-yul’s fine.
The surgery went well, and the scars have improved a lot…

“Then what is it?”

– It’s really nothing.
Mom will handle it.

“Just tell me.”
“You know I get angrier if I find out later.”

– …Seon-yul, I’m really sorry to ask you this, but…
could you help your father just this once?

“What?”

The unexpected words twisted Seon-yul’s face.
His father was an alcoholic gambler who had neglected the family and committed domestic violence.
It had been ten years since his parents divorced.
In the meantime, his mother had reunited with him and separated again repeatedly for the same reasons.
A few years ago, when the police called and Seon-yul rushed over,
he had found his mother in shambles.
Back then, she had sworn,
“I’d rather bite my tongue and die than see that man again,”
and even pinky-promised her two sons.
Yet it seemed she had contacted him again.

“Mom, are you in touch with that bastard again?”

– Don’t call him that.
He’s your father.
Seon-yul, he and I may be strangers now, but you aren’t.
He’s been living really hard lately.
Staying in a tiny room, barely eating, looking all skin and bones…
He says he quit gambling and drinking completely.
Says he wants to live properly now.

“Did he ask for money?”
“How much?”
“Did he say he ran out of gambling funds?”

– No.
He really hasn’t gambled or drunk for a year.
He didn’t ask for money at all.
I just… I feel sorry for him.
I thought maybe he could at least do delivery work like before,
so I looked into a used motorcycle.

“Ha— Mom, are you out of your mind?”
“Why do you keep being such a sucker?”
“After everything he did, how can you see him again?”

– I’m not seeing him.
That relationship ended years ago.
Really.
I’m not helping him for no reason.
If you saw your father now, you’d be shocked at how different he is—

“Hang up.”
“Just text me the hospital bill amount.”