"Hm... I should probably head out now to make the train."
Director Na Han-seok said it with a glance at his watch. As always, there was nothing superfluous in his delivery.
'He said he was scouting locations, but that was only a pretext.'
His real purpose was obvious.
To check me over in person, here, today.
A man this direct and this focused on efficiency would never do anything unnecessary.
Coming all the way down to Gongju hadn't been about locations. It had been to see me.
I knew it, and I didn't press him about it.
If anything, what came through more clearly was what an obsession strong enough to bring him all this way actually meant.
"I'll send you the screenplay before long, then."
"Ah, yes. Have a safe trip back."
He rose from his seat and gave a light nod.
And then, suddenly, he looked my way and smiled briefly.
That smile wasn't warm so much as it seemed to say 'confirmation complete' while keeping his real thoughts hidden.
I couldn't take my eyes off him until he opened the door and disappeared out of the café.
Beyond the closing door, a strange afterimage lingered.
'Is he really... seeing me as his lead?'
Only the coffee, gone cold, sat on the table.
I lifted the cup, trying to settle a faint tremor.
Director Na Han-seok's screenplay. Just the fact that I came to mind as its protagonist made my chest run hot.
But that heat didn't last long. A heavy worry followed close behind.
'...Can I actually pull it off?'
To the public he was the best director there was.
But to people in the industry, Na Han-seok was closer to an object of fear than of respect.
"Go into a Na Han-seok project and your life changes."
That was what people said, and the phrase carried awe and terror at the same time.
A man who makes you shoot one scene dozens of times, who digs relentlessly into a single look, a single fingertip.
The rumors of actors leaving the set in tears, unable to endure it, were nowhere near exaggerated.
I swallowed the cold coffee and made myself a promise.
'Even so, I'm taking this chance.'
If you can't endure, you simply disappear.
I already had that experience.
Five years ago, what came crashing down along with the unjust rumor wasn't people's criticism. It was myself, having become afraid to stand in front of a camera.
My throat tightened at the mere switching on of a light, and my whole body locked up at the sound of a shutter.
Because of that fear, in the end I broke myself and stepped down off the stage.
This time I'll endure.
No matter what fear comes down on me, no matter which wound reopens.
I'm going to survive inside Director Na Han-seok's film.
***
When I got home the kitchen was busy.
For my departure tomorrow, Mom was hurriedly making side dishes again.
Seasoned bean sprouts, stir-fried anchovies, even a rolled omelet—
"You'll need something to eat when you go up tomorrow."
The familiar muttering to herself, and hands that never stopped.
Beside her, Ha-yul was sneaking chopsticks in and snatching bites.
"You never make it when I ask......"
She whined with her mouth full.
"You don't eat it even when I do make it."
"I eat it! When have I ever not eaten it?"
"Goodness, stop picking at it. There'll be nothing left for your oppa tomorrow."
Small complaints and nagging filled the kitchen.
I sat at the table and watched without a word.
The smell of side dishes, the warm light, the voices going back and forth.
A scene I'd taken for granted felt unusually, almost strangely precious today.
'Still... all I ever do is receive.'
Mom had always rushed around looking after me like this, and my sister, even with a face full of displeasure, always ended up bragging about me proudly.
And what had I actually done for them?
All I had were memories of vanishing, collapsing, running away.
Inside all that warmth, guilt seeped in strangely.
I gripped my cup of cooled water and made a promise to myself.
I'll succeed and give them an easier life.
So Mom won't have to hurriedly pack side dishes anymore.
So Ha-yul can live the life she wants, openly, instead of complaining like this.
"Mom, I'll earn a lot and... buy a place in Seoul, so let's live together. You too, Ha-yul."
The moment I finished, the kitchen went quiet.
Mom and Ha-yul both stopped their chopsticks and stared at me.
"...What's gotten into you?"
Mom let out a startled laugh first and shook her head.
"I like it here. Seoul is too crowded."
Ha-yul folded her arms and tossed out,
"Same. All my friends are here, why would I go to Seoul? Just come down more often."
"......Huh?"
When I looked over sheepishly, Mom immediately glared at Ha-yul.
"Your oppa is talking, and who do you think you are?!"
"Ah, I just... I was only saying what I think......"
While Ha-yul rolled her eyes with an aggrieved expression, Mom turned back to me.
"Forget the place in Seoul. Even the first floor is fine, just please get out of that semi-basement first."
Ha-yul dropped her head and muttered quietly,
"...Yeah, let's get that semi-basement smell out. I'm on board with that."
"There you go again, at your oppa!"
When Mom shot back with a glare, Ha-yul's head snapped up.
"You started it!"
She threw the words out, then shot up and fled toward the living room.
Mom's "Hey, you brat!" chased after her, but Ha-yul had already hidden herself behind the sofa.
Watching it, I let out a snicker.
'Right. I just have to do my part.'
Mom and Ha-yul were already satisfied with this life.
In the end, the only one who could show this family a better future was me, by succeeding as an actor.
***
Back in Seoul, when I pushed the creaking steel door open, the smell of damp and mold hit me at once.
A cramped semi-basement studio.
Low ceiling, windows that don't even let air through, a dingy room dependent on a single fluorescent light.
'This place is cold no matter when I come back to it.'
Damp had risen up the walls into spreading stains, and the shoe cabinet still held the smell of dust and dirt.
Take a single step and the cold floor drove up through my toes, and an isolation crept in, as if I'd been quarantined from the world.
I set down my heavy bag, and only then looked at the containers of side dishes in my hands.
The kimchi, greens, and meat dishes my mother had hurriedly packed back home.
They were the dishes she used to make standing over a flame before dawn, back before she closed the restaurant.
And one bag of chestnut snacks Ha-yul had slipped in, apparently the trendy thing in Gongju these days.
Along with a scrawled note like a piece of graffiti: 'Come by more often for Mom's sake!'
Even inside a room steeped in that clammy smell, those touches alone came through warm.
The scene from yesterday suddenly came back to me.
Mom moving busily at the table, frying side dishes.
Ha-yul beside her, picking up a bite at a time and complaining.
That scene where the two of them bickering always ended in laughter.
Unlike this cramped, damp place, there was always warmth there.
Someone's nagging, someone's whining, and the affection and ease hidden inside it.
I took the containers out one by one and set them on the table.
The air in the narrow studio was as cold as ever, but inside it the smell of home seemed to seep faintly in.
Just then my phone buzzed.
The name on the screen was [Ji-ho hyung].
"Hello?"
"Hey, you back? Went home and ate nothing but healthy stuff, right?"
'What's he going to say this time......'
The familiar joking tone came through.
"Ah, yes. Something like that."
"Must've been nice. If you're free, want to meet this afternoon? I'll buy you something bad for you."
I snorted a laugh at how absurd it was.
"Something bad for me? Don't people usually buy you something good for you?"
"Hey, if you've been out in the country you need something worldly to clear the palate. That's how you get back to reality."
At that shameless delivery I burst out laughing without meaning to.
"So that's settled, and I'm bringing the company card."
Click— the call ended.
"Serpent's Tongue really does live up to the name......"
I set the phone down and slowly looked around the narrow semi-basement room.
Until moments ago my heart had still been back home.
Mom's footsteps going back and forth in the kitchen, Ha-yul's voice complaining about nothing.
That warm scene was still vivid in my ears and in front of my eyes.
But manager hyung's joke had touched something in me, strangely.
Right. Now that I'm back, this is my reality, and the stage is my place.
The low ceiling, the damp-soaked walls, the belongings sitting abandoned in a corner.
And still, strangely, it made me smile.
"Well, this place isn't so bad either."
It sounded like talking to myself, but there was sincerity in it.
Back home there's a mother who always packs side dishes for me, and a sister who grumbles about how annoying it is while quietly looking after me anyway.
And in Seoul there's a manager hyung who throws out jokes like this and holds down the spot beside me.
Even in a cramped, clammy semi-basement, just the fact that there are people holding me up was enough to make it warm.
I smiled a little and steadied myself once more.
***
When evening came and I arrived at the beef gopchang place near the company, the distinctive savory smell had already spread all through the alley.
Ji-ho hyung, seated in the back, shot a hand up and called me over.
"Hey, over here! Hurry up. You're hungry, right?"
When I got to the table, the grill was already heating up.
Hyung wiped a soju glass with practiced ease, set it in front of me, and tossed out,
"Whew, it's been hectic. The company signed a new actor. I've been busy with that."
I widened my eyes, surprised.
"A new actor?"
"Yeah. Still a rookie, but I saw potential."
"You're really busy, hyung."
Ji-ho hyung nodded and turned the gopchang over.
"Right, busy. Probably once your schedule keeps growing you'll get a dedicated road manager assigned."
I smiled and stuck out my lip for no reason.
"Aww~ but I like you, hyung......"
"Ha, look at this guy. We'll still see each other plenty, so don't be too sad."
Ease was soaked into his face as he said it, unflappable as ever.
I watched him and set my spoon down.
Inside, I was a little disappointed.
Because he's someone I've always laughed with, traded jokes with, and who's been my support at times.
But I steadied my thinking soon enough.
'I can't just fill my own wants. Hyung has his own life. Each of us doing our part in our own place is what's right.'
I opened my bag and took out the few containers of side dishes I'd packed in tight.
"Ah, these... my parents told me to give them to you. Kimchi and stir-fried anchovies, and a little rolled omelet."
Ji-ho hyung's eyes went round.
"Hey... seriously? Wow, how long has it been since I've seen this."
When hyung hastily went to open a container lid, I flustered and waved my hands.
"Here? Hyung, we're in a restaurant, the smell will spread."
"I'm a regular here."
Ji-ho hyung shamelessly stuck a thumb up toward the owner.
The owner smiled as if used to it and nodded.
Soon hyung glanced at me with a 'well?' expression and opened the lid without hesitation.
At the smell of home that spread out, his face brightened.
Hyung picked up his chopsticks, carefully put some in his mouth, and closed his eyes for a moment.
"...Hey, Eun-yul. Where's your mother from?"
Laughing as if startled, he went on,
"How is it exactly the taste my mom used to make? Wow... that's a taste I'd forgotten for a long time."
His eyes wavered for a moment, then were covered over with a laugh.
"Hey, make sure you thank your parents for me. I'm genuinely moved."
That small wonder and laughter filled the cramped restaurant warmly.
Amid the sound of spitting oil and the smell of gopchang cooking on the grill, I felt my heart ease for a while.
After eating and drinking and talking for some time, yesterday's events suddenly came back to me.
I set my glass down and spoke.
"Hyung, actually... something a little special happened yesterday."
"Something special?"
"Yes. I met Director Na Han-seok in Gongju."
In that instant, Ji-ho hyung's eyes shook hard.
The familiar joking tone and the easy manner vanished entirely, and he looked at me seriously.
"What did you say? ...Director Na Han-seok?"
Only the sound of gopchang sizzling on the grill filled the air for a moment.