Private Life
I listed the house for sale. It was Cha Jun-jae who did it. I knew the average selling price because my mom wouldn’t stop talking about it. Was he planning to move somewhere nicer? Given his state of mind, it didn’t seem that way.
Unable to shake the constant anxiety, I reluctantly dialed Aunt Su-young’s number. I wondered if I really had to go this far, but once suspicion takes root, it’s better to settle it cleanly.
“Hello?”
“Yeah. What’s this about, calling out of the blue?”
“What are you talking about? It was your mother’s fault. I’m at fault too for following without knowing anything. Besides, I actually had more fun than I expected.”
“Why are you asking about Jun-jae?”
“Jun-jae’s busy right now. He’s probably looking over a new script or something.”
“We talked not long ago, and he seemed busy then.”
“I saw him yesterday, too. I’ll make sure to tell him to call you, Eun-dam.”
Even though she’d answered after seeing my name, Aunt Su-young sounded rather flustered. This was probably the first time the two of us had ever spoken on the phone. She was close with my mother, but not particularly with me.
“Auntie, have you been well?”
“I’m sorry about when you visited. I was so busy with work that I couldn’t show you around properly. It must have been difficult for you.”
At her warm voice, I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. After dragging out the preliminaries, I finally moved on to the main topic. I squeezed out every ounce of my acting ability and let my voice trail off at the end.
“Um… Auntie.”
“Yes?”
“Have you been in touch with Jun-jae?”
Aunt Su-young, who had been answering smoothly without hesitation, fell silent for a change. But it didn’t last long before she laughed brightly and asked in return.
“Oh, it’s because I borrowed a book from him. I called to ask when I should return it, but he didn’t pick up. He is back in Korea, right?”
Even I could tell it was a terribly outdated excuse. As I bit my lip in embarrassment, Aunt Su-young’s unsuspecting, gentle voice came through the line.
Reviewing a new script? I wanted to tell her he had listed that expensive house at a bargain price. Aunt Su-young, apparently clueless about her own son, spoke with pure innocence.
A recent call. I pictured Aunt Su-young’s name sitting far down in my call log. The realization hit me late, and I knitted my brows. Sensing she wanted to end the call, Aunt Su-young quickly delivered the final blow.
“Oh… All right.”
I hung up after confirming that she really had spoken with him. Unless I was hallucinating, the person I had seen earlier was definitely Cha Jun-jae.
I paced the room anxiously, chewing on my already chipped nails. Was Aunt Su-young indifferent toward her son? But she always subtly bragged about him whenever they met, so that didn’t seem to be the case. The real issue was what was going on inside Cha Jun-jae’s head. He hadn’t even told his parents he was here, he was trying to sell the house, and he didn’t appear to be thinking about his next move at all. He wasn’t the type to give a straight answer even if asked directly.
His behavior matched that of someone preparing for death. Openly displaying his feelings as if there was no need to hide anything, organizing his assets like a man with little time left, not informing his parents of his whereabouts.
When the recent news of an actor’s suicide flashed through my mind, I felt the blood drain from my body. What if some unknown event had made things too hard for Cha Jun-jae, or even made him lose the will to live? His actions spoke of someone who had given up on life. I was grateful for my decision to treat him well no matter what.
“You did the right thing, Song Eun-dam.”
If I had thrown a fit and left his side, only to later hear the news of his death, how would I have coped? I wouldn’t have been able to live with a clear conscience. I felt sorry toward Cha Jun-jae. All I ever did was worry about myself.
I needed to coax him more gently, in a better way. My heart thumped slowly—thump, thump, thump—when a loud knock sounded at the door.
“Eun-dam.”
At the soft voice, I soothed my startled chest. I felt like I might choke, but with the acting skills I had honed over many years, I answered calmly.
“Yeah, I’m changing my clothes right now.”
“I’ll start on dinner. Come out whenever you’re ready.”
After speaking in that gentle tone, his footsteps moved farther away from the door. Feeling as if I’d gotten myself into a troublesome situation, I slowly raked my fingers through my hair. I had no desire to become the final witness to Cha Jun-jae’s incident, or the last person to see him. Somehow, I had to dispel the warning signals that had lit up in his mind.
It would be easy to simply inform his parents, but if Cha Jun-jae—who already seemed to be at his limit—went further off the rails because of their interference, what then? Cha Jun-jae would laugh like a child whenever something fun happened just between us. I clung to that hope. If we spent time together even better than before, I could safely complete the script, and Cha Jun-jae could reclaim his normal daily life.
Once I had steadied my breathing, which had grown ragged with agitation, I changed my clothes. By the time I came out, Cha Jun-jae had already prepared omurice. Vegetables from our last grocery run were scattered messily across the kitchen counter. There were a few dishes Cha Jun-jae was especially good at, and omurice was one of them. Knowing so much about each other had its pros and cons. I pulled out a chair with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.
“Looks delicious.”
With my fabricated smile, I met his gaze and sat down. Cha Jun-jae, seated across from me, picked up his spoon with an expression no different from usual. As I watched him take a bite, I carefully considered his eating habits. Cha Jun-jae never showed much interest in food. He would leave half his coffee, half his ice cream. He only ever finished everything when I cooked for him; with delivery or eating out, he usually just picked at his food.
He had said he didn’t manage his diet either, so he must simply be someone with little natural interest in eating. The things he did were occasional swimming with me, watching movies, and for the most part, just smoking cigarettes in a daze. That man was wasting his time so pointlessly because of me.
“Jun-jae.”
“Yeah.”
Even now, Jun-jae—who ate at half my speed—lifted his head.
“Have you thought about your next project? I heard rumors that Director Kim Sang-ho is considering casting you as the lead.”
I inflated the information I’d picked up here and there, exaggerating it to test his reaction. I had expected normal answers like I’m thinking about it or No, I haven’t heard that. But Cha Jun-jae’s dark eyes simply stared at the rain-streaked window, devoid of any enthusiasm.
“I’m thinking of quitting.”
“What?”
It sounded like he meant quitting life, and I nearly spat out my omurice. As I barely managed to swallow it down, he naturally passed me the water.
“Hold on. Quitting? At your age? Already?”
“Just… There’s nothing I particularly want to film anymore…”
Was this some kind of professional slump as an actor? It happened to people sometimes. They seemed to have smooth sailing and success, but inside they were rotting away. Complaining that people didn’t understand their true selves, that they felt lonely and sad. Still, I couldn’t just brush it off as a spoiled man’s whining. After all, you could never tell whether someone else’s flower garden of a life was actually a gutter or a cesspit.
“Then, have you taken an interest in any sports or hobbies lately?”
Biting the tip of his spoon, Cha Jun-jae shook his head. His face clearly asked why I was suddenly bringing this up.
“Or maybe there’s somewhere you need money for.”
Seeing how cheaply he’d listed the apartment, it was possible he’d failed at some investment. But it didn’t seem to be that, either. This time, as if it were his turn, Cha Jun-jae grew more serious and fired off his own questions.
“Do you need money?”
“Huh? Me?”
“I can lend you some.”
Then a greedy thought like How about a billion won to start rose in my throat. Knowing Cha Jun-jae would actually transfer the money made me too scared to even joke about it. I twirled the spoon in the air and spoke lightly.
“It’s nothing like that. I just thought we could talk about how we’ve been living, that’s all.”
It wasn’t a career issue, and since he’d mentioned a billion won, it probably wasn’t a money problem either. What could make a person suddenly depressed enough to want to die? As I groped through various possibilities without thinking, I spoke.
“Have you been seeing anyone lately?”
This time, no answer came. Realizing I’d misspoken, I looked up to see Cha Jun-jae’s sunken expression. I was wondering if I’d pried too deeply into his private life when he quietly parted his lips.
“Why did you break up with Kim Seung-ju?”