Chapter 5: They Say He’s a Genius (2)

Steam repeatedly fogged up and cleared from the oxygen mask of the unfamiliar woman.

I slowly closed my eyes, then opened them again.

It’s strange.

I’ve never lost you even once—yet now it feels like I’ve truly lost you.

Jeon Yeohu stood up from his seat and moved to the bedside.

She still hadn’t opened her eyes, and she didn’t look at him or ask, “Son, where have you been? Why are you only coming now?”

His voice began to tremble on its own.

“Why… why is Mom lying there?”

A beeping sound he’d never heard before rang in his ears—the sound of a heart monitor.

Its steady rhythm reassured him that she was still alive, yet at the same time planted a fear of death deep inside his chest.

All the harsh scoldings that had once buzzed endlessly in his head had now vanished into pitch-black nothingness.

Only emotion remained.

The desperate emotion of not wanting to lose her.

Standing still, he clenched both fists tightly.

“What is Mom even doing there…?”

His clenched hands trembled.

He looked down at her, eyes shut, repeating only labored breaths.

“You said you’d protect me. No matter how much trouble I caused, you promised you’d stay by my side. Even if everyone in the world said a bastard like me should die, you said you’d hold my hand.”

Her breathing continued.

“You said you’d believe in me! Everything—everything—you promised me!”

Memories that had never truly existed—imagined moments with her—flashed through his mind, and his voice rose higher and higher.

The room was swallowed by silence, broken only by the young boy’s scream.

No clicking pens.
No scribbling of feedback.
No sound at all.

“But… but why aren’t you saying anything?”

Breathing.

Once.

Then—

“Why! Why—why… why are you lying there? That place—that’s where I should be lying. At least I should die before you. It’d be better if someone stupid and worthless like me died first. Someone like me—a piece of trash—rather than Mom!!”

The boy screamed.

Why is Mom lying there?

His voice lost its strength.

Tears fell straight to the floor.

They burst.

This time, instead of tears, it was his voice that filled the space.

“Mom is the one who should live. That’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s right… isn’t it?”

Min Sora stared blankly at Jeon Yeohu’s performance.

So did the directing PD.

At an audition, “good acting” is a collection of perfect diction, controlled breathing, proper eye lines, and a performance that never feels awkward to the viewer.

That’s why judges are supposed to objectively evaluate all those elements—not as viewers, but as assessors.

But in that moment, all three people at the judging table forgot to evaluate.

No—he made them forget.

Jeon Yeohu’s flushed face.

His ragged breathing.

Every movement—fumbling through the air, desperately grasping at a hand that wasn’t there.

It felt as if they were watching a real family sharing the same hospital room.

The boy clutched at his invisible mother’s hand, sobbing—then suddenly sprang to his feet.

Even though she couldn’t be seen, his eyes told them everything.

Unlike before, his gaze now held a thin ray of hope clawed out of the pit of despair.

He sees her.

Beep— beep— beep—.

“Mom? M-Mom! Did you just grab my hand?”

“Mom, I’m sorry. Everything’s my fault. I’ll listen to you from now on. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll make seaweed soup for you every morning—the kind you like. I’ll do the dishes. I’ll study hard. Okay? So… so please… please… please…”

“Someone—please save my mom.”

Save her.

This time, the boy’s eyes turned toward them.

Dark.
Deep.
Pitch-black.

How could one describe the feeling of watching a child’s entire world collapse right in front of them?

It was simply sad.

Nothing more.

*****

“Hah.”

With a short breath, everything ended.

He returned to an upright posture, as if nothing had happened.

On his calm face, there was no trace of the clumsy high school student from moments ago.

After briefly scanning the room, he bowed at a proper angle.

“That’s all. Thank you.”

A hollow laugh slipped out of Min Sora’s mouth before she could stop herself.

What the hell was that? Someone who can act like this—and he’s never had a lead role? That makes no sense. If he’s a senior, he must’ve had plenty of chances…

Jeon Yeohu tilted his head slightly.

“Uh… then, my free acting—”

Park Min-tae, the first to regain his composure, spoke up.

“Jeon Yeohu, would you like to do your free acting right away?”

“Ah—yes.”

Jeon Yeohu closed his mouth.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Then he opened it again.

A completely different young man appeared.

Pure and innocent, with empty eyes that seemed like they were chasing some distant utopia.

“I actually have something I’ve been worrying about lately… would you be willing to listen?”

“W-what…?”

“Sora, acting. Acting.”

Ah—
It was so natural that she hadn’t even noticed.

Min Sora hurriedly covered her open mouth.

There were plenty of famous anecdotes about actors jumping straight into free acting, so starting that way wasn’t unusual.

She’d seen it many times.

But delivering it like casual conversation in a single breath—

This was her first.

She responded,

“Yes. Go ahead.”

Unlike before, Jeon Yeohu’s eyes were bright and alert.

“I have a girlfriend, but she hasn’t been responding much lately. Haha… honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing to say this at my age. I’m not even the type to obsess over messages. I just send her pretty skies when I see them, tell her what I’m doing—that’s it. When you love someone, you get curious, right? Whether they ate properly. Finished what they had to do. Whether something bad happened.”

He fidgeted with the phone he’d taken out of his pocket.

Head lowered, ears red, he rambled on—his relationship advice sounding so genuine it felt like peeking into a college student’s first love.

“Dating is just… like that.”

His words began to speed up.

“I really don’t want to break up. But no matter what I reply, I can tell she’ll hate it, so I’m completely stuck. Coming here for advice over something like this is kind of stupid too. Ah! Do you want to see our messages? It’s fine. Most of them are from me anyway.”

What…?

Those eyes are clearly in love.

So why—

Why does this feel sad?

Did he mess up the emotion?

Jeon Yeohu suddenly stood and thrust his phone toward Min Sora.

Is this still part of the act?

Without protest, she took the phone.

On the screen were messages that looked prepared in advance.

The moment she read them, Min Sora covered her mouth.

—

I’m about to eat.

I have class. Going in now.

Good night.

I love you.

Did you start hating me? It’s not that, right?

Why aren’t you replying?

Don’t forget me.

I just called you, but it says the number doesn’t exist. Did you change your number? You wouldn’t do that without telling me. It’s not like you’re dead.

Honey… I miss you.

—

Min Sora’s gaze slowly lifted to Jeon Yeohu.

Stalker?

No.

Stalker?

No.
Those aren’t the eyes of one.

Because that isn’t love.

Instead of fear or dread, a pitiful sorrow welled up inside her.

This was the gaze of a man who had lost love to death—filled with longing and grief.

“Uh… this is—”

“What? You were here.”

Jeon Yeohu’s hand slowly reached toward Min Sora.

It neared her cheek—then stopped just short of touching.

“Honey, I can see you. Look—you were hiding to surprise me, weren’t you? See? You’re not dead after all. Everything everyone else said was a lie. We were going to travel overseas together. This time, let’s really go. I’ll clear my schedule.”

That’s it.

She remembered this movie.

A romance film about a man who goes mad after losing his lover five years earlier and travels the world alone.

A scene from the very beginning—where he mistakes the doctor counseling him for his lover.

It was a foreign film, so hearing the lines in Korean hadn’t triggered her memory right away.

He smiled.

At Min Sora.

“Yeah, I love you too. Don’t worry. You’re the only one I have. Our love won’t end.”

“……”

“We’re different from them.”

And that marked the end of the scene.

Before Min Sora could say anything, Jeon Yeohu instantly returned to himself.

“That concludes my free acting. Thank you.”

*****

Silence.

Did he mess up?

I kind of want to leave now.

He’d done everything he’d prepared.

And he was happy.

Because he’d delivered the exact performance he’d imagined.

His first audition in life—excluding college entrance exams and school plays.

A final challenge that ignored all the days he’d fiercely given up on, and the first time he’d poured everything into acting.

Ah—damn it.

I really should be able to give up now.

Acting has something that makes the heart quake.

As the two judges remained silent—having no idea what was going through his mind—Park Min-tae had no choice but to speak again.

“Thank you. We’ll notify you of the first-round results by text or phone tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The moment Jeon Yeohu left, Min Sora jumped to her feet.

“Senior, who is that guy?”

Park Min-tae shrugged.

“Who else? Jeon Yeohu from Korea Arts University.”

“No, I mean—does it make sense that an actor who looks like that and acts like that has never once come up on our radar?”

“It does. Every play he’s been in, he’s only had minor roles. And he asked not to have his name listed in the pamphlets.”

“What? Why?”

Min Sora frowned.

“He says he’s afraid of becoming famous. Says he doesn’t even want to be an actor.”

“But he’s that good.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Then doesn’t that mean he really hates acting?”

The directing PD flipped through his résumé and spoke.

“With skills like this, but no proper profile photo and a résumé padded only with college theater—he might just have talent and still not want to act.”

A sharp observation.

And if Park Min-tae hadn’t actually spoken with him in person before, he might’ve judged Jeon Yeohu the same way—based on fragments alone.

“But~ the guy like that took on three roles at once in a play I saw.”

“Three…?”

Park Min-tae nodded.

“Even I, watching it live, never realized all three roles were played by the same person. Isn’t that strange? A guy who doesn’t want to make acting his career, who’s afraid of becoming famous—why would he practice that much?”

“That’s… true.”

“Talent alone isn’t enough in this industry. Looks, effort, luck—you need all three. And that kid has every single one.”

“Looks and effort, sure… but what about luck?”

Min Sora tilted her head.

Park Min-tae pointed his thumb at his own chin.

“Meeting me.”

A scoff escaped Min Sora’s lips.

“You’re seriously insufferable.”

*****

It was over.

He felt refreshed.

Performing for someone is always exhilarating.

What made this audition especially satisfying were the judges’ expressions.

Being able to completely ruin someone’s face with acting—that’s probably an actor’s privilege.

“Jeon Yeohu!”

“Jung Yunwoo?”

The same voice called out to him again—this time from outside the building.

Looking over, he saw Jung Yunwoo sitting on a bench beneath the roadside trees.

There was still plenty of time before the bus he’d normally take home.

Did the bus company go on strike or something?

“Done with the audition?”

“Yeah… why are you here? Bus strike?”

“Hey, what kind of question is that? Of course not.”

Grinning, Jung Yunwoo pointed at him.

“I was waiting for you. Looks like you’ve finally started seriously preparing to be an actor.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Not yet.”

Jung Yunwoo snapped back, irritated.

“Why?”

“Why do I need to explain that to you?”

Jung Yunwoo let out a long sigh and lowered his head.

What now?

Then he suddenly lifted it.

“This won’t do. I’m kidnapping you today.”

“What?”

“Hey! Follow your big bro!! Dinner’s on me tonight!”

Jung Yunwoo grabbed his wrist and dragged him off somewhere.

Damn it.

I really shouldn’t get involved with this bastard.