Chapter 16 : Moon Rabbit (6)

Though no words were exchanged, we both instinctively headed towards a secluded area behind the storage shed, where the air was thick with the scent of damp earth. Hansongi frowned, her gaze fixed on me.

Her expression wasn’t just anger; it was something darker, more profound. She hesitated, then spoke.

“…You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Did what?”
“You chose Act 3, Scene 12 deliberately.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”

I feigned innocence.
Hansongi’s voice rose, laced with conviction.

“You think I wouldn’t notice? I saw you reading a different scene in the waiting room.”
“…I guess I was caught.”

It seemed my deception had been discovered. I had underestimated her observation skills.

Hansongi, consumed by frustration, stepped forward and grabbed my collar. I looked at her impassively.

“Why? Why are you doing this?”
“I told you, didn’t I? I’m going to show you how inadequate you are.”

I knew she wasn’t directly responsible for what happened to Hyelin. Objectively, her actions didn’t make sense.

Why target me and Hyelin?
It was possible. Emotions clouded judgment, and misplaced animosity wasn’t uncommon. But logically, Hansongi’s resentment should have been directed at Dojun.

But she had ignored him and focused her hostility on *me*. It didn’t make sense.
There had to be something I didn’t know.

The mystery was soon solved.
Min Chaerin approached me with a troubled look.

‘Yesterday… I saw Senior Minseok having a private meeting with the instructor.’

The pieces clicked into place. I had found the last piece of the puzzle, the source of the animosity directed towards me.

Hansongi had been used by Minseok.
Realizing this, I pondered.

Could ignorance be an excuse?
I concluded it couldn’t.

Even if the root of the malice was innocent, the malice itself remained. Those who sinned had to be punished. This was a universal truth.

So, I decided to inflict the cruelest punishment I could think of on Hansongi.

To make her confront her own inadequacy. This moment, if possible, would haunt her forever.

Overwhelming power breeds fear.
Armed with the skills from my past life, I puffed myself up, becoming a looming threat.

I am the monster that will devour you.
There is nowhere for you to run.

Hansongi would see resistance as futile against my overwhelming power.

So, she would give up.
And what remained would be pure, unadulterated fear.

I knew better than anyone what fear could do to a person.

Hansongi exhaled shakily and released her grip on my collar.
She took two steps back.

“I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor?”
“Can I see your script?”

I looked at her, intrigued. She, too, dreamt of becoming an actor.

I took the script out of my bag and handed it to her. She immediately began flipping through the pages.

***

Hansongi was stunned.
It hadn’t even been a week.
But Lee Haram’s script was worn and tattered.

Every page was filled with notes, questions scribbled in every margin. She had never seen a script so intensely annotated. It was like a grimoire bound in human skin.

She finally understood the truth behind what she had dismissed as mere talent. She had been outworked, outhustled. It was a crushing realization, the realization that her weakness wasn’t a lack of talent, but a lack of effort.

So, she asked, perhaps hoping to shift the blame, to convince herself that *I* was the abnormal one.

“H… How… how can you do this?”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t have to go this far.”

I smiled sweetly and replied,

“Senior, I believe that ignorance is the root of all mistakes. We become complacent because we don’t understand the consequences of our actions.”

Hansongi nodded unconsciously. I continued,

“But if we knew the pain of failure, wouldn’t we do everything in our power to avoid it?”
“I suppose so.”
“That’s why, even when others say to ‘look before you leap,’ it’s not enough for me. I’ll check the rainfall, I’ll touch the stones to see if they’re slippery, and I’ll wait for someone else to cross first. Only then, will I take my first step.”
“…Is that even possible?”

Hansongi shook her head.

It sounded idealistic. Like saying studying twelve hours a day guaranteed admission to a top university. I tilted my head, feigning confusion.

“It is for me.”

***

We headed towards the auditorium.
Hansongi seemed defeated after our conversation.

A sense of déjà vu washed over me.
I furrowed my brow, searching my memories for the source of this feeling. I finally found it, a discarded memory tucked away in a dark corner of my mind.

Students walking home under the orange glow of streetlights. The image was blurry, like an old photograph, but the voices were clear. I was smiling wryly as I spoke.

“We always go home after sunset, right? And we complain about it. But someone told me…”
“…Yeah?”
“That stars only shine at night. So, we should appreciate the night sky and the shining stars, because only then can we become shining stars ourselves.”
“That’s cheesy.”
“Right?”

Yes, someone *had* said that.
I couldn’t quite remember who, but it might have been *you*, Hansongi.

***

After hours of auditions, the results were posted.

[Moon Rabbit: Lee Haram, Kim Jinsol: Han Dojun, Male 1: Kang Joohyuk…]

A single sheet of paper, determining the hopes and disappointments of everyone in the club.

“Damn it, I didn’t get a role.”
“Should have practiced more. What are you going to do, losing to a first-year?”
“You’re one to talk. All the lead roles went to the juniors.”

I checked the results, eavesdropping on the seniors’ conversations. Dojun and I had gotten the lead roles, but most of the other roles went to the seniors. I frowned, puzzled.

‘That’s strange.’

Hansongi’s name wasn’t on the list. Even if she had lost the lead role, she was skilled enough to get a supporting role. But she was nowhere to be seen.

Just then, Hansongi approached me with a sullen expression. She checked the results and said,

“I asked the instructor. I’ll be your understudy.”
(TL Note : Understudy refers to an actor who learns the role of another actor and replaces them if they’re ill)
“That’s unexpected. I thought you’d go for another role.”
“I just… don’t think I can be satisfied with any other role right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I ran out of excuses? I need to learn how to face my failures head-on.”

There was a sense of relief in her expression. She smirked, lightly punched me on the back, and said,

“Don’t screw up. If you do, I’ll be ready to take your place.”
“Even if I do mess up a little, I’m still…”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Hansongi glared at me, then walked away.
I chuckled at her untamed, cat-like demeanor.

She was finally back to the Hansongi I remembered, and I breathed a sigh of relief. She might have been a thorn in my side, but there was a time when she had been one of my thorns.

***

Kang Haerin arrived home, put the beer she bought from the convenience store in the freezer, and ordered fried chicken.
It was a reward for a long, stressful week.

In an hour, her very adult, decadent feast would begin.

She would devour the juicy chicken, savoring every bite. She would tease and torment the crispy skin, dipping it in the sauce before finally sinking her teeth into the tender meat. And then, she would wash it all down with ice-cold beer.

Her phone buzzed. An unwelcome name appeared on the screen.
[The Bastard who would rather fail]

Haerin frowned and answered the call.

–Hey, Noona, what are you doing? (TL Note: Noona – honorific term for older sister, used by males.)
“About to have a happy time. Make it quick.”
–Happy time? You? You’re probably eating chicken and drinking beer alone again, aren’t you?

His accuracy was infuriating.
This guy was a menace.
Haerin acted decisively.

“I’m hanging up.”
–W… Wait! I have something to ask.
“What?”
–Do you know any young, talented, insightful, unknown actors with good looks who are also affordable because they’re unknown?

Such a perfect being didn’t exist.
Haerin was about to end the call when Haram’s face flashed through her mind.

“Actually, I do know someone.”
–…You’re kidding, right? You actually know someone like that?
“I feel like I’m lying, but… yeah, I do know someone.”
–Tell me!
“No.”

Haerin hung up and counted to ten. He would call back. Any second now. But the phone remained silent.
Then, a message arrived.

[Video sent.]

Haerin watched the video and immediately called him back, yelling,

“You son of a…”