Two weeks had passed since the stepfather's death. The police ruled it as hypothermia. Drunk and chasing his stepson, he'd tripped, passed out, and frozen to death. His crushed nose was chalked up to the forward fall.
"Ha Moo-young."
The homeroom teacher called my name, clicking his ballpoint pen. "Are you listening to me?"
"Yes. Of course."
"What about your living situation?"
"Graduation's just around the corner, so I'm staying at the house for now. The landlady's being understanding about it."
After sorting everything out, I had exactly 570,000 won left to my name. There had definitely been a bank account in my name that Mom set up, but that bastard must have blown it all.
"Have you decided what to do next?"
"I'll wait for the admission results first."
I'd secretly applied without telling the stepfather. Hating home, I got to school first and left last, leaving me nothing to do but study.
"Moo-young. Hear me out—no offense."
"Yes. Go ahead."
"You know Seoyeondae University has the highest tuition in Korea, right? Sure, student loans are easier to get these days, and there are more scholarships, but..."
Thanks to that, I'd been able to apply to decent places like the prestigious private Seoyeondae University. Of course, results were still pending.
"If you don't get financial aid, that's 7 or 8 million won gone per semester. Not to mention other schools start at 3 or 4 million at least. And that's not all—rent, food, living expenses..."
I knew exactly what he was getting at. The vocational school pamphlet in his hand made it obvious.
"These days, even kids from top universities just loaf around after graduation. You tailored your scores to specific departments anyway. If you're not passionate, learning a trade and securing a spot first is the smart move."
It was practical advice. Tourism Promotion, Global Culture, Classical Chinese Literature, and so on. They were all random choices. Anything to escape would do.
"Thank you for the advice, sir."
But not anymore. The devil was dead, and my path was set. Living a borrowed life in place of my wrecked one. And finding happiness in it.
"Actually, I have something I want to do."
"Oh? What is it?"
"I want to act."
The unexpected words made the teacher pause. Too out of left field, maybe. The other teachers nearby turned to stare.
"Act?"
"Yes. That's why I want to go to university even more."
I'd heard tutoring rich university kids paid well. Even if it meant taking a leave right after enrolling, wouldn't that be better? If I failed, I'd figure something out. Anything goes. I was free now.
"...Have you ever acted before?"
"No."
The teacher's mouth twisted. Like he'd never seen such a childish kid. Then the other teachers chimed in.
"Moo-young could give it a shot. He's handsome, tall. Gentle too—great with fan service."
"Idol? He said actor."
"Aigoo. Arts and athletics are all about talent."
"Even the best can't make it. Tsk tsk."
"Moo-young. When did you start wanting to act?"
"Think it over, kid! Don't waste your life!"
They'd all been eavesdropping while pretending not to. The room buzzed with chatter.
The homeroom teacher rubbed his temple and rummaged in his suit pocket.
"Well. Good to have a goal. We teachers chipped in a bit. Use it for living expenses."
A thick envelope. Even for high school teachers, it was packed with guilt for not noticing their student's plight sooner.
"Thank you."
"Go on."
Dismissive, like there was nothing more to say. He turned his chair as I headed for the door. Amid the noise, his low mutter slipped out.
"Not a kid's game... A guy who's never acted once thinks he can just..."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇"You're crazy, right?"
In the quiet classroom, Moo-young was buried in books borrowed from the library. If only Jun-ho would stop pestering him from the front seat, it'd be perfect.
"Not going to play soccer?"
"Too cold."
With exams over and no classes, kids bolted to the fields whenever they showed up. But rumors of the stepfather's death and family drama had spread, so Moo-young mostly had the place to himself.
"You told the homeroom teacher you're gonna act?"
"How'd you hear?"
"The staff room was all about you. 'How far will that pretty face take Ha Moo-young? Is he crazy or just out of his mind?' P.S. Everything but English was negative."
Moo-young looked up from his book at Jun-ho. Looks aside, he was a real friend. The only one unchanged after the incident.
"Why say that?"
"They asked what I'd do with my life."
"If I'd said that, they'd have smacked me with the attendance book. Acting out of nowhere? Though... you're good at lying, so maybe you'd nail it."
"Lying? Me?"
"You hid the stepfather stuff well."
Harsh enough to make others flinch, but Moo-young didn't mind. It was actually refreshing. Jun-ho tsked at the scar on his friend's lip.
"Put some good ointment on it. It's been two weeks."
"It's fine. Healing up."
"Hey. Aspiring actor?"
He knew bits. Moo-young's home life was off. But this bad?
Jun-ho hid his guilt, digging in his pocket.
"Here. Most expensive one from the pharmacy."
"Rich kid perks."
"Still just ten thousand won."
Jun-ho was the building owner's son. A five-story commercial spot downtown—not flashy, but solid.
"So, real plan?"
"Nothing much. Part-time, university."
"If you fail?"
"Thinking theater troupe."
"What? You weren't bullshitting about acting?"
Jun-ho jumped, shocked.
"I told you everything already."
"For real? Not just to troll the teachers?"
"Why would I? You?"
"No, dude. Why? Suddenly?"
His reaction was milder than expected. Moo-young waved it off with a grin. Sorry, but details—like the supernatural—were off-limits. Even to Jun-ho.
"Dunno. Just felt like it."
In his hand: a complete collection of Korean films. Jun-ho stared blankly, then snatched it.
"Lemme see."
"What?"
"Acting. You never even mentioned it before, and now you wanna do it? As a friend, I don't get it. If there's no talent, I'll bring lunch and talk you out."
Talent? Who knows. It didn't matter. To survive—especially differently—he had to do it.
"Gimme."
But starting in front of a friend wasn't bad. Like a vaccine before the real battlefield.
"You know this?"
The Day Spring Vanished (2001)
A film that buzzed when veteran actor Park Mun starred for no fee. Set in a future where seasons vanish due to global warming, a gardener who senses them through blooming flowers realizes spring is gone forever. Praised for low-budget mastery of environmental ruin and everyday preciousness.
"Just the poster."
An old film—many knew the hype but not the movie. Moo-young loved it, though. The lush green cinematography was killer.
[#107. The Garden (Afternoon Sunset)]Jun-sik stands barefoot. He stares at the withered flowers for a long time.
Ja-yeong approaches and hugs him.
Jun-sik: (trembling voice) It was just one day.
Ja-yeong: (burying her face in his back) Yeah.
Jun-sik: This year, spring lasted only a day. Probably the last one. I should've watched longer if I knew. (silence) I won't be able to make flowers bloom anymore.
Moo-young closed his eyes. Imagined himself in that garden from the screen. Hands, feet, scenery—all in first person.
"It was just one day."
Spring streets dyed pink. Sweet breezes wafting subtly. He stoked the emotions of springs he'd known.
"This year, spring lasted only a day. Probably the last one. I should've watched longer if I knew."
That spring vanishing. Shortening blooms year after year—what did the gardener feel? A life devoted to grass and trees—what was it like?
"I won't be able to make flowers bloom anymore."
Regret. Remorse. Pity. Guilt. The whirlwind hit, and unconsciously, he raised a palm, inhaling deeply. Like savoring spring's last trace.
An action not in the script.
"Haa..."
Not scripted, but what any gardener would do. His nose tingled; tears welled.
Moo-young startled himself, pausing.
"Huh. This..."
What? The emotional arc. The immersion. Even an indescribable satisfaction.
'And it's fun.'
Not sure if delusion, but for a first try, it felt natural. Talent, maybe? Better than none.
Eyes sparkling with anticipation, he looked at Jun-ho.
"How was it?"
Jun-ho's face was unreadable.
"You little..."
Ding-dong-da-dong—lunch bell rang. Dismissal for seniors.
"You little what?"
"...You memorized those lines crazy good."
"Not that—gut feel. Just the vibe."
"...Not lunchbox-intervention bad."
Jun-ho's cautious verdict. Expected awkward cringe for a newbie, ready to curse it out. But... solid. Evocative, even for an unseen scene.
"Eh, whatever."
But he held back, lest his friend get cocky.
"Not bad. Anyway, if uni flops, skip troupe—hit an academy. Acting's a skill, needs training."
Then he pivoted quick.
Moo-young just smiled faintly, grabbing his bag.
"Academy? Can't even afford boiler fuel."
"Then live at mine."
"Yeah, sure. Lunch on the way."
"My treat?"
"Duh."
He'd read once: creatures excel at survival talents. No one's forcing death, huh. In high spirits, Moo-young left the classroom.
"What're we eating?"
"Something pricey!"
That's why he didn't notice. The black smog seeping from the floor had vanished clean. Or the classmates' gasps erupting in his wake.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇"Tteokbokki only?"
"Shut up. Fish cakes and sundae too."
Moo-young picked street food. Quiet street. Chilly, but the tent's coziness hit right. Mid-Jun-ho-sponsored feast...
"Huh?"
Something fluttered outside. Snow? No—brighter, more vivid. Flower pollen, like around the stepfather's corpse two weeks back.
Moo-young poked his head out.
"What?"
"Nah. Flower pollen..."
"Pollen? Midwinter?"
The building next to the tent was the source. He read the faded third-floor sign.
"BV Acting Academy?"
"Academy? You don't go to one."
Jun-ho's question ignored, Moo-young just chewed his tteokbokki. The phenomenon sparkled incomparably to the corpse's. Like calling him. Promising opportunity here.
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