Chapter 3 Part 2: The Home of Stars

Auditions he had failed countless times until now.
The fear crept in that if Pierrot did not help him, he might end up repeating that history—being rejected three hundred times over.
He could feel that his acting had improved.
And he knew that the greatest effect was coming not from rehearsals, but from vocal training.
Still, it was not to the point where he could call it confidence.

Besides, short films were the hometown of all stars.
It was obvious that young filmmakers, brimming with passion, would be watching him with nothing but hope in their eyes, and he could not bring himself to crush everyone’s dreams with garbage acting.

“Um, this may be rude of me to say, but I have a habit of reviewing scripts on my own.
Would it be all right if I contact you after I’ve gone over it?”

Sumi and Youngho exchanged glances.
Quick-witted as ever, Sumi spoke up immediately.

“Of course.
We’re sorry to say this, but our production date is coming up soon.
Would it be possible for you to get back to us quickly?”

“Yes, I’ll contact you right away.”

“Our terms are a three-day shoot with a fee of five hundred thousand won.”

“Yes.”

Whoa, they’re paying me?
There were plenty of short films that didn’t pay at all.
Of course, that was usually when casting was done entirely through personal connections.

He was surprised on the inside, but before he knew it, he answered with a simple “Yes,” without adding anything else.
At that, Youngho’s gaze dimmed.

He must already have a better offer from another production company.

He was too late.
If only he had moved a little faster.
If nothing else, if he had seen this play first instead of the one yesterday, maybe they would have had a chance.
Time already passed only gave birth to regret.

But we can’t offer more than that.

If they raised the actor’s fee any further, they would inevitably have to give up something else.
And given the nature of short films—where most labor costs were paid as “passion pay” through senior–junior relationships—that would directly affect the film’s overall quality.

In the end, five hundred thousand won was the absolute maximum they could offer.

Unaware that the other side was misunderstanding him, Yejun stared intently at the script in his hands.

I need to go meet Pierrot right now.
If rehearsals are possible, I’ll agree immediately!

Watching the situation closely, Sumi refused to give up and spoke again.

“You perform from Thursday to Sunday, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Then are you free from Monday to Wednesday?”

“I have a part-time job in the mornings, but after three p.m. my schedule is clear.”

“Hmm, that should work.
You’re okay with filming at dawn, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

Sumi lightly tapped Youngho on the back and gestured with her eyes.

Are you really just going to let this go?
Do something!

Receiving her look, Youngho hesitated for a moment, cleared his throat, and spoke.

“Actor Ma Yejun.”

“Yes?”

“I truly want to work with you.”

“…..”

“Please consider it positively.
I’m asking you.”

Youngho bowed deeply.
A director bowing to an actor.

Even if he was only a short-film director, it was rare for a director to bow to a rookie actor who was neither a star nor a veteran.
Sumi bowed as well.

“We’re counting on you!”

Yejun stood there holding the script until the two disappeared out of the theater, his hand trembling slightly.

I’m happy.

He was truly happy.
That someone needed him.

For nine years, Yejun had lived the life of a castoff, never finding a place where he was wanted.
Now, the script in his hand felt incredibly precious.
He hoped he could review it quickly and give them a good answer.

Just then, Younghwan’s voice rang out.

“Yejun-hyung!”

Turning his head, he saw Younghwan shaking a small box.

“A delivery came for you.”

“Oh, give it to me.”

It was here.
As expected, Korean delivery was lightning-fast.

“Just throw it!
It’s not breakable!”

From the lighting control booth, Younghwan wound up like a pitcher and threw the box.
It bounced once after hitting his hands, but Yejun caught it without dropping it, gestured his thanks, and ran into the dressing room.

His heart pounded at the thought of going somewhere private to meet Pierrot, but unfortunately, Jeonghwan grabbed him.

“Company dinner today.”

“Again?”

He had no idea why they had company dinners so often.

Honestly, calling it a “company dinner” was generous.
They would just go to a noodle shop, order one bowl of banquet noodles, and down a few bottles of soju.
A poor man’s gathering that left nothing but a burning stomach the next day.

Still, the conversations there were always entertaining.
The troupe members shared a common interest in theater and acting.

“Where are we going?”

“Granny’s Noodle Shop in the back alley.
Where else?
It’s the cheapest place in all of Daehangno.”

Theater actors around here probably knew every cheap bar and restaurant by heart.
They only ever went to cheap places, after all.

“Got it.
You go on ahead.
I really need the bathroom.”

“You gotta poop?”

“Yes.”

“Wishing you a smooth one!”

Glaring at Jeonghwan for loudly shouting that in front of all the actresses, Yejun hurried off toward the restroom.

Just in case other actors came by, he deliberately went up to the first-floor restroom used by the audience.
After confirming that it was empty, he took one stall and sat down, opening the delivery box.

Inside was a Pierrot mask—white background, black teardrop under the eye.
A Western-style Pierrot mask, just large enough to cover the face since they usually wore hats.
Yejun rubbed his thumb over the eye holes and swallowed nervously.

Please let this work.
Every time I read a script, I wonder how I’m supposed to do the makeup.
This cost me sixty thousand won.

The Pierrot mask in Yejun’s hand slowly covered his face.

***

A dark room.

Joy surfaced in Yejun’s eyes behind the mask.

It works!

He had come back to the dark room where the crying Pierrot stood.
Another delightful discovery this time: he didn’t need to paint his face—just using the mask was enough to meet Pierrot.
From now on, he planned to carry this mask with him wherever he went.

As always, Pierrot stared at him silently.
But there was a slight difference in his reaction this time.
Pierrot tilted his head.

What does that mean?

It was as if he were reviewing the scenario Yejun had just unfolded in his mind.
The head-tilting looked strange.
It was a reaction he had never seen before.

Of course he wouldn’t know.
This is only the second time I’ve brought a script.
The first time was an acting practice book.

There was still much about Pierrot that remained hidden.
Since they couldn’t communicate, there were many secrets yet to be uncovered.
He would have to learn more in the future.

Pierrot’s gaze, which had looked contemplative for a moment, returned to Yejun.
Then Pierrot slowly raised his right hand and extended his index finger.
Yejun clenched his lips tightly.

Please!
I really want to do a movie!

Instead of snapping his fingers, Pierrot held a single index finger straight up.
He stayed frozen like that for a long time, as if thinking.

What am I supposed to do?
If it’s not possible, just send me back to the doll room, you bastard!

He was going crazy.
This was a good opportunity.

Pierrot placed one hand on his hip and stared at Yejun, seemingly deep in thought.
After gazing at him for a long while, Pierrot moved again.
Yejun’s eyes widened as he saw the thumb that had been hidden beneath the index finger slowly rise.

He’s going to snap his fingers!

But then why did he look so conflicted?
Why was he dragging it out this time?
What kind of secret was there?

Before Yejun could organize his thoughts, the sound of Pierrot snapping his fingers rang out, and his consciousness was sucked somewhere else.

***

Where is this?
A bathroom?

Reflected in the mirror was his own face.
Just his face—slightly paler, slightly more drawn than usual.
But his lips were red, as if painted with blood.

Water flowed from the sink.
The water was pink.

Looking at his hands, they were covered in blood.

Gasp.

What the hell is this?

This wasn’t just a bit of blood from a nosebleed.
It felt like he had plunged his hands into bloody water and pulled them out.
The thickness of the blood made the scene grotesque.

Am I being killed again?

Though his mind resisted, his body was already washing his hands.
As he took out a bar of soap from a black bag and washed them, something unusual flickered in Yejun’s eyes.

He washes for an excessively long time.
And he even carries his own soap.

The blood had disappeared from his hands long ago.
But this man scrubbed under his fingernails meticulously, for an absurdly long time.
Like someone with severe germophobia.

And his expression is disturbingly blank.

His reflection in the mirror.
A face of nothingness, devoid of any readable emotion.

He hadn’t reviewed the script beforehand.
In his impatience, he had put on the mask and opened the script, diving into the scenario without even knowing what it was about.

There was a hand dryer nearby, but as if unwilling to put his hands into a place crawling with germs, the man clenched and unclenched his fists, shaking his hands in the air.
Then he slung his bag over his shoulder and turned around.

The restroom had six stalls, three on each side.
The man walked steadily and opened the door to the far-left stall.
Inside the man’s mind, Yejun gagged, performing an internal retch.

What the hell is that?!

There was a corpse in the last stall.
A man’s body lay there, grotesquely mutilated, soaked in blood.

Why did this person die in such a state, and why did the one who found him feel no emotional disturbance at all?

I killed him.

This time, it seemed he was not the one being killed, but the one doing the killing.
That was… somewhat better.

But then—
The blood-soaked man, whom he thought was a corpse, coughed up blood.
He wasn’t dead yet.

Blood-mixed tears streamed from the man’s eyes.
Unable to hold his head up, he still looked up at Yejun until the very end.

“Why…… why…… why did you do this?”

Something felt wrong.
His chest, which had felt empty while he was washing his hands, now began to pound.

His gaze was stolen by the blood welling up from the wound in the man’s chest every time he breathed, and that sight twisted his heart.

Beautiful.

f*ck.
What kind of thought is that?

The man, barely clinging to life, spoke again.

“I—I’ve never seen you before…… why me?”

The blood that had been surging bubbled up like a fountain once more, then trickled down.

When the man’s breath stopped, this beautiful sight would also end.
Once a human heart stopped, blood circulation ceased, and the flow of blood inevitably slowed.

Realizing that his entertainment was coming to an end, he felt an inexplicable sense of regret.

“Why did I do it?”

“Ghk…… gurgle.”

He took out the knife—washed clean—from his back pocket and licked it with his tongue.
As he admired the victim’s brutal reflection on the pristine blade, too clean to be stained by lifeless, filthy blood, he thought that this, too, was quite beautiful.

“Because I was curious.”

“Cough!
Cough!
W-what were you c-curious about……?”

Oh, coughing made more blood gush out.
Beautiful.
He wanted to see this a little longer.
Couldn’t he stay alive just a bit more?

The knife blade gleamed brightly.
Reflected within it were the victim and the murderer.

The murderer spoke expressionlessly.

“I wanted to know what kind of sound you’d make when you die.”

“…..”

“And whether you have red inside you too.”

“Y-you killed me for something like that?!”

The murderer stood up and shrugged his shoulders.

“A mosquito with seven legs might just be an ordinary mosquito to you, but to scholars, it’d be groundbreaking news that turns the academic world upside down.
This is the same thing.
It might be nothing to you, but to me, it’s the most fascinating question in the world.”