Yujin's Birthday Party
I spent two days groaning like an exhausted man. Since "aftereffects" didn't seem like a plausible excuse, I told Mom it was just a bad cold. She clicked her tongue but said nothing. Who is my mother, if not someone who can see right through my lies? She was letting it slide out of resignation — this film would be the last of it. Getting into character takes more of a toll than I expected.
My body had returned to normal, but my emotions hadn't. The murderer I'd dredged up to put feeling into my performance refused to release me easily. I'd be seized by the urge to kick a dog that barked at me, or feel revolted by the touch of a neighborhood ajumma who patted my head cooing about how cute I was. The emotional aftermath — the kind that made me feel like I was losing my mind — tormented me for nearly two weeks. I'd heard of actors so deep in their roles they suffered from social anxiety and paranoia, and having experienced it firsthand, I could see how that was entirely possible.
Fortunately, my scenes had all wrapped with the piano performance, so I could be sick in peace. That said, the film's fate hadn't fully left my hands. I still had to deal with the child abuse controversy my Future Sight had shown me. If I failed to stop it properly, even a well-made film would never get the recognition it deserved.
"You want to come along when I do volunteer work?"
"Yes. Mom said we should live our lives helping others. I want to help you, sunbaenim."
"Your mother sounds like a woman of fine principles. Then let's go to the orphanage together this weekend."
I followed Actress Go Eun-hye on her volunteer visit. Mom came along too, helping with the orphanage chores while filming everything. Those clips would carry a lot of weight when it came time to clear up the misunderstanding later.
"You went to an orphanage on Saturday, so you couldn't call me?"
"What's an orphanage?"
Question marks floated over Yujin's and Sora's heads.
"It's a place where kids without moms and dads are taken in and raised."
"What do you do there?"
"Mom and my sunbaenim clean and cook, and I just play with the kids."
"M-me, I want to go and play too."
The following week, Yujin and Sora tagged along as well, and it turned into a regular charm offensive.
"I've never seen Yujin and Sora follow a boy around like that. Yujin's usually so haughty, and Sora is so guarded she won't let anyone within arm's reach."
Actress Go Eun-hye watched the inseparable trio with an expression of wonder.
"Ha-jin's mother must be delighted. Looks aside, those two wouldn't trail after someone just for being handsome... What on earth is his secret?"
"Right? They're practically too good for him, and yet..."
Song Mi-young found it every bit as baffling. She'd never dreamed of the entertainment world, but at some point the people orbiting her son had become nothing but faces from that world. She was dying of the pressure while her son effortlessly turned everyone — child and adult alike — into his own people. His social poise and charm, so unbecoming of a six-year-old, kept startling her. Sometimes it genuinely made her wonder if he was really her son. I can't imagine what that child means to become when he grows up, truly.
While the Go Eun-hye footage was being gathered, post-production on the latter half of the film moved along smoothly.
"What do you think? Came out well, didn't it? You were talking to that thing when we shot it."
CG had been added to the scene where I meet the ghost. It wasn't on the level of the CG I'd seen in my past life, but it was more convincing than I'd expected. What startled me wasn't the quality, though — it was that the ghost looked exactly like the one I'd seen inside the script. So it really was pulled from the future. It's identical to what I saw back then. Once again I marveled at Future Sight's power to transcend time.
"Here."
Yujin held out a card. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over me.
"What's this?"
"It's March, isn't it?"
Oh. Right. It's Yujin's birthday.
Sora had received a birthday card too. With less than a month left before she left for America, Sora — who had taken to crying every time she saw Yujin and me — broke into a smile for the first time in a while.
"I only invited you two, so make sure you come."
Huh? Yujin, who loved nothing more than a spectacle, used to brag about how many people showed up to shower her with birthday wishes. But this year she wanted the three of us to have a party together. I wondered what kind of party that would be, but something told me there was a reason behind it, so I didn't press. Maybe it was concern for Sora that kept her from inviting anyone else. All that talk about rivals, and she quietly looks after her after all.
"Ha-jin, sing me a song next year. I want to hear you somewhere with lots of people."
Wang~
"Uwaaaaagh!"
At the entrance of the villa, I was pounced on by a dog bigger than me. It wagged its tail furiously and made a chaotic attempt to lick me. I like dogs, but at this size they're a bit much.
"Noorungji! Come here!"
At Yujin's call it shot off like an arrow and took up position at her side. A well-trained dog.
"Noorungji?"
"My dad named him. He says it's crunchy burnt rice, but I've never eaten it."
Must be named after his fur color. Still, she's never tasted the stuff? In my past life I used to make it on purpose whenever the craving hit.
"Welcome, kids."
Yujin's mother greeted us warmly. Since we'd come in a car driven by Sora's manager, Yujin's mom was the only adult present. When we headed inside, she told us she'd come back to pick us up later and left. In the spacious villa, the three of us were suddenly all alone.
"Last year, a hundred guests came."
Yujin can't count past a hundred. The point was that plenty of people had come.
"But this year, I only invited you two."
"Why? You love having lots of people around."
"Once Sora leaves, we won't get to hang out like this anymore. Today I wanted the three of us to play together, so I told everyone else not to come."
Well, well — the little tyrant has a surprisingly thoughtful side.
"Kkeuing... hukk."
The moment Sora heard this, her cry button switched on. Why would you make her cry on her own birthday!
"Hoooong, I don't wanna gooooo."
"Don't cryyy... hukk, uwaaaaaang."
With crying bursts erupting from both sides, it turned into full stereo sound. I wanted to cry too, in a different sense.
"Keep it up and I'm leaving."
Sniff. Sniff.
Effective, as expected.
"Sora, if you cry you'll get ugly. I like pretty Sora. So no crying until it's time to go today, okay?"
"O-okay... I won't cry. Don't say... I'm ugly."
"If you don't cry, you're pretty."
At the word pretty, her expression melted. For Sora, this was the miracle cure.
"Yujin, are you going to America?"
"N-no!"
"Then don't cry. Only people going to America get to cry. I'm not crying, am I?"
She sniffled and nodded at a syllogism that didn't hold up under any scrutiny. A kid is a kid, after all.
A glance at the dining room revealed table after table of kid-friendly food. She must have hired a catering service.
"I'm hungry. Can we eat that?"
"Yeah."
"I'm... hungry too."
Like it was a last supper, I took the seat in the middle, and the two apostles settled in on either side. With tearstains still lingering on their faces and the surroundings hushed, it was practically a communion. It felt wrong for a birthday that was supposed to be joyful, so I hurried to smooth things over.
"Wait here. I'll bring it to you."
I said, getting up from the table. When I offered to serve them, they sat obediently without a word of protest. Onto Yujin's plate — a lover of meat and sweets — went steak, bulgogi, and an assortment of desserts. Onto Sora's plate, fond of pasta, fruit, and vegetables, went a generous heap of fruit and salad. Months of phone calls had taught me the two of them by heart — every like and dislike.
"Let's eat. I'm starving."
"You picked out only the things I like."
"Mine too..."
"You told me all about it on the phone, remember? Come on, pick up your forks."
It was a kindness too small to cover the sorrow of parting, but more than enough to change the mood. Over the delicious food, six-year-old chatter bubbled up in cozy little clouds.
"This is your birthday present."
"What is it?"
"A hairpin. The blue color you like."
Sora, wearing the hairpin I'd bought her, drew Yujin's envy. No way the daughter of a rich family couldn't buy herself some hairpin like that. She simply wanted the one I bought her.
"Ahem, ahem... thank you."
She played it cool, but her eyes were pure excitement. She pinned it into her hair immediately, so she must have liked it.
"This one... is my present."
Sora's was a figurine that danced atop a jewelry box. From the intricacy of the design, it clearly wasn't an ordinary trinket. Director Han Jae-ryong must have pulled some strings.
From then on it was one long perform for us session. I drew a quick portrait with Sora as the model, then played the piano and, taking turns, sang everyone's favorite songs. Add in three chatterboxes, and lo and behold — not a trace of gloom left on anyone's face.
"Call me from America. If I'm not asleep, I'll always pick up."
"I want to talk while seeing your face. Once you're in America, we won't get to meet like we do now."
Being without a smartphone really is inconvenient like this. Hold out five more years. That uncle in the turtleneck will change everything.
Our chattering, which stitched up the final chapter of our childhood, went on until Yujin's mother returned.
To the film critic Jin So-hee, director Kim Si-woon was neither a filmmaker nor anything else worth naming — he was a dog in heat. A lunatic who took pride in such "filthy" adjectives as: his mise-en-scène is dazzling, his camera movement is dynamic, he flatters the beauty of his actresses. Nothing more than a pervert with a grotesquely twisted gaze, a man who always found some way to put women through the wringer. And this bastard is supposed to be the next great hope of Chungmuro.
It was enough to drive her insane — every single film of his snagged both rabbits at once, critical acclaim and box office success. A movie made just so the director could start a fight, a demented movie glorifying sex crimes, a director hell-bent on portraying women as inferior. No matter how many verdicts like these she hurled, his popularity stood utterly unmoved. If anything, it was she who got branded a critic whose perspective was the narrow one. How can I bring this bastard down for good?
Then came word of his new project. The story of a pianist who kills people. Was there anything about the man that wasn't perverted? Even the protagonist was exactly what you'd expect. This time, for certain...
Jin So-hee, who believed with unshakable conviction that she was an enlightened intellectual, burned with a fresh resolve.