5
Chapter 5
“…What did you say?”
Thirty years.
Thirty years since he had stepped into this industry.
In all that time, he could count on one hand the number of times he had received a direct call from a producer saying that one of his actors had done well during an entertainment show.
And of all people, it was Park Songhoo.
“He was making self-deprecating jokes, and I nearly died laughing. And his back-and-forth with Jeon Jaemin was incredible!”
…That Park Songhoo, who had always been overflowing with self-love?
‘No way.’
Being able to make fun of yourself paradoxically meant that you were capable of letting go of your pride.
The report he had heard from Jo Yonggi played again in his head.
“Songhoo hyung… He’s become much more humble than before. I swear, I thought he was a completely different person.”
The pieces were falling into place.
His humble attitude, his self-deprecating humor.
They were all pointing in the same direction.
‘Did he really change as a person… during that year of self-reflection?’
This wouldn’t do.
He had to go and see for himself.
The moment he ended the call, he grabbed his jacket.
Thirty minutes later.
A black sedan glided to a stop in the JTBS parking lot.
Baek Hoseon got out of the car and immediately entered the building.
As he strode down the hallway, he called Jo Yonggi.
“Where are you right now?”
“I’m in the waiting room. Songhoo hyung is changing inside.”
When he arrived in front of the waiting room, Jo Yonggi was standing in the hallway and bowed at a ninety-degree angle.
“Hello, Representative!”
“Yeah, yeah. So, where’s Songhoo?”
“He’s still inside.”
Just then, the waiting room door opened.
Park Songhoo stepped out, having changed from his hospital gown into his regular clothes.
“……”
Baek Hoseon’s gaze fixed on him.
His face was still the same.
That impossibly handsome face, exactly as it had been seven years ago when he had handed him his business card on the street.
But somehow, his atmosphere was different.
Something about him seemed… softer.
Moreover, if this had been the old Park Songhoo, even if Baek Hoseon suddenly appeared like this, the most he would have gotten was a bored, “What do you want?”
But the Park Songhoo standing before him now widened his eyes the moment he saw him.
“Uh… Representative.”
Then he firmly closed his mouth and began to bow straight from the waist.
Seeing this, Baek Hoseon’s own mouth slowly fell open.
“…Hey, Songhoo.”
This bastard was not normally like this.
Even in front of his own representative, he had thrown courtesy out the window. Once, during a meeting about choosing a project, he had even said, “What do you know, Representative?”
And yet that same Park Songhoo was now being this polite.
“How was the shoot?”
This naturally made him ask in a gentle tone.
Park Songhoo hesitated before answering.
He seemed to be trying to think carefully about every single response now.
“…It was fine.”
“That’s a relief.”
He patted Park Songhoo on the shoulder.
What a good kid.
But the moment his hand touched Songhoo’s shoulder, the latter stiffened, and his neck soon became rigid.
“…Why are you so startled?”
“No, it’s nothing.”
“Oh, and the PD called me personally, too. He said today’s shoot was fun. Apparently, you did really well.”
Honestly, he didn’t believe it.
He thought the PD had merely said it out of courtesy since it was Songhoo’s first schedule after such a long absence.
There was no way Park Songhoo could have done something like that.
But whether it was true or not, there was something he wanted to tell him.
“You did well. You did very well.”
You’re doing well.
“…Thank you.”
How many times had Park Songhoo said thank you today alone?
‘This guy really has changed. Even acting couldn’t pull something like this off.’
Baek Hoseon was certain.
“Your schedule is over, so go home and get plenty of rest. Don’t wander around outside for no reason.”
“…Yes.”
Baek Hoseon beckoned Jo Yonggi with his chin.
“Take good care of Songhoo today and get him home safely, all right?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Oh, right. Or should the three of us go grab a meal together? There’s a place around here that I know—”
Before he could finish, Park Songhoo quickly answered.
“No, today… I’ll just go home early.”
“Really? All right. You must be tired after having a schedule for the first time in a while.”
“…Uh, yes. Exactly.”
***
I stood in front of the VIP room.
Before knocking on the door, I took one deep breath.
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
I carefully opened the door.
Park Songhoo, dressed in his hospital gown, was sitting diagonally against the bed.
He fiddled with his phone before giving me a bored glance.
“Finished filming?”
“…Yes.”
I sat down in the caregiver’s chair beside the bed.
Honestly, I was so exhausted that the bed Park Songhoo was lying on looked much more appealing, but no matter how I thought about it, that would probably be a good way to get myself beaten up.
“How was the show?”
“I-I think it was pretty good…?”
Park Songhoo narrowed his eyes at me.
“Pretty good? What does that mean?”
“E-Everyone laughed a lot… and I think the PD liked it, too…”
I’d find out the rest once the episode aired.
There was no need to mention it now.
…For the same reason, I also decided not to tell him that I had blurted out “anger management disorder” instead of the prince syndrome line.
“But what are all those things you brought?”
“Oh, these.”
They were the gifts the fans had given me in front of the broadcasting station.
My arms had nearly fallen off from carrying everything here with both hands full.
“Your fans gave them to me. In front of the broadcasting station.”
“……”
Park Songhoo looked at the bags before reaching out.
The first bag contained a set of photocard prints that seemed to have been handmade.
They consisted of photographs of Park Songhoo that a fan had apparently taken and edited themselves.
They had been arranged chronologically, from his early debut days to his most recent days.
Park Songhoo flipped through the cards one by one.
“…They made all of these individually.”
“Wow. They really did.”
“Shut up. I’m talking to myself.”
“…Yes.”
That was a relief.
It meant I didn’t have to react anymore.
The second bag contained letters and some mysterious object.
A shadow fell beneath Park Songhoo’s eyelashes as he took out a letter and began reading it.
“……”
I quietly watched from beside him.
After finishing it, he carefully folded it and placed it back inside the envelope.
He then began looking through the rest of the gifts.
“……”
“……”
Silence lingered between us.
At some point, Park Songhoo had slipped a doll keychain between his fingers and was slowly spinning it around.
Eventually, he finished checking all the gifts.
Even then, Park Songhoo continued staring blankly into the air for a while.
‘What is he thinking about right now?’
“Did you eat?”
The older brother suddenly changed the subject.
The atmosphere from moments ago disappeared as if it had never existed.
“…What?”
“If you came here right after filming, you probably didn’t have time to eat.”
He was right.
The moment filming ended, Representative Baek Hoseon had caught me, and after sweating nervously through that encounter, I had come straight here.
“…I ate.”
A lie slipped out.
I didn’t know why I lied.
Perhaps it was an unconscious defense mechanism telling me that I didn’t need to be taken care of.
“Bullshit.”
Park Songhoo nodded toward the side table beside the bed.
A meal tray was sitting there.
The rice and side dishes were untouched.
“Eat.”
“…This is yours.”
“I didn’t have an appetite.”
“No, but even so, I don’t really feel comfortable eating food meant for a terminally ill patient—”
“Ah, seriously. You keep calling me terminally ill.”
“Eek!”
Thinking that I might actually die sooner if I kept arguing, I quickly picked up the spoon.
The moment a spoonful of food entered my empty stomach, I felt something that had been twisted up inside me begin to loosen.
Maybe it was because this was a VIP room, but the hospital food was incredibly delicious.
‘No, but… can hospital food really be this good? Is it because this is the VIP room?’
There was even braised short rib with oil glistening all over it.
Was it really okay to give something like this to a pancreatic cancer patient?
‘Well.’
This was a huge hospital. They probably knew what they were doing.
In conclusion, it was a much better meal than the miserably frugal meals I had been eating at home.
“What have you been doing all this time?”
I unconsciously froze.
It was the first personal question he had asked me.
“…Yes?”
“I’m asking what you’ve been doing all this time.”
“I-I just… stayed at home…”
“Doing what at home?”
“W-Writing novels… and spending time with my cat…”
“Novels?”
“W-Web novels. I serialize them on Soseoljoa…”
Park Songhoo turned his head and looked at me.
“You’re a novelist?”
“Yes… I mean, I’m not popular or anything…”
“I’ll read it sometime.”
“……”
He was probably just saying that out of politeness.
…He had to be.
“Oh, right. I think I have another interview tomorrow. A magazine interview. It was scheduled a month ago, so it’s my first official interview since my return.”
“What? Where did that come from?!”
I half rose from the chair, only to immediately sit back down under Park Songhoo’s sharp gaze.
“You clearly said today was the last time…”
“I’d forgotten that interview had been scheduled. Hey, and unlike an entertainment show, an interview is easy. You just answer the questions. It’s nowhere near as difficult as filming an entertainment show.”
“……”
“And this really is the last time.”
“…The actual last one?”
“Yeah. But why is this bastard suddenly speaking informally?”
You were the one who told me to loosen up…
***
I opened my eyes to the sound of the alarm.
Louis was curled up into a ball on top of the blanket, asleep.
The white ball of fur rose and fell rhythmically.
“…Louis.”
Even when I called him, he didn’t move.
The only response was the slight twitch of the tip of his tail.
I carefully got up, refilled the automatic feeder with food, and replaced the water in his bowl.
As I put on my shoes at the entrance, Louis slowly walked out.
“I’ll just go out for a little while today, too. This really is the last time.”
Louis looked up at me.
His eyes seemed to say, You said the same thing yesterday.
When I went downstairs, I saw the manager’s car.
Today, instead of the passenger seat, I climbed straight into the back.
“Hyung, how are you feeling today?”
“…Good.”
Morning Seoul flowed past the car window.
Sunlight poured between the buildings, commuters crossed the crosswalks, and office workers hurried along with cups of coffee in their hands.
‘Once this interview is over, I can safely stay inside my room again.’
Louis was waiting.
I had manuscripts piling up.
Let’s finish this quickly today and go home.
“Hello, Mr. Songhoo. I’m Yoon Seojin from Scene & Cut magazine.”
Eventually, we arrived at the interview room.
The red light beside the camera came on.
And so the interview began.
From now on, I had to answer as Park Songhoo.
“What made you decide to return?”
The decision to return.
What had that meant to Park Songhoo?
“If I die with my image ruined by the controversy over my character, I’ll be remembered as trash for the rest of my life.”
I remembered what he had said in the hospital room.
Honestly, if you asked whether I could relate to it, not really.
That was Park Songhoo’s story, after all.
But whatever.
Right now, I was Park Songhoo.
‘Let’s put myself in his shoes. I’m Park Songhoo right now. I’m Park Songhoo right now…’
Wasn’t this similar to writing a novel?
Designing a protagonist’s emotional arc and running simulations in your head about what that character would say in a given situation.
I did this every day.
…I just wasn’t popular.
‘Park Songhoo. Ruined by a controversy over his character. A year and more of self-reflection. And then he decides to return.’
What had happened during that time?
He must have been trapped alone in his room, watching his own name appear online alongside curses and insults.
The phone stopped ringing, and fewer people came looking for him.
‘Ah.’
This wasn’t as difficult as I thought.
If it was the feeling of being trapped alone in a room, that was an emotion I knew better than anyone.
“…I felt that I couldn’t go on like this.”
After immersing myself deeply into the role, a low voice naturally slipped from my lips.
I didn’t stutter at all.
There were moments like this when I wrote novels, too.
It was the sensation of my mouth automatically speaking Park Songhoo’s lines, just as my fingers sometimes moved on their own across the keyboard.
“I thought I would regret it.”
Yoon Seojin stopped his pen and looked at me.
Something seemed to have reached him.
“Is there anything you’d like to say to your fans?”
My fans.
I remembered the people I had met in front of the broadcasting station yesterday.
The person who had shouted their support with tears in their eyes.
The person who had said they loved me.
The person who had handed me a handmade set of photocards.
To be honest, I couldn’t really relate to that either.
They hadn’t given those things to me. They had given them to hyung, and I had merely been playing the role of a deliveryman.
But what mattered right now wasn’t my feelings.
It was Park Songhoo’s feelings.
‘What would Park Songhoo say if he were asked this question?’
An entertainer who had fallen to rock bottom.
And yet there were fans who hadn’t left and had waited for him.
What would Park Songhoo feel after learning that?
…And three months.
In three months, the Park Songhoo those fans were waiting for would no longer exist.
The photocards, the letters, the keychain, the words saying they loved him.
There would be no one left to receive them.
‘What kind of story is this…?’
A top star diagnosed with a terminal illness is asked what he wants to say to his fans during his return interview.
He wants to say thank you, but in truth, he should be saying sorry.
He’s grateful that they waited for him, but he’s the only one who knows that there’s no point in waiting anymore.
“…I want to say thank you.”
I deliberately said it plainly.
A safe, ordinary answer that anyone would expect from an entertainer returning to the spotlight.
But then I paused for a beat.
“For waiting for me.”
That was the surface.
What came next was the truth.
The true feelings of the character named Park Songhoo.
The feelings hyung couldn’t bring himself to say aloud.
“You waited for me…”
I changed it into the past tense.
That single change in tense created the nuance of someone who had no future ahead of him.
It left the listener with a strange lingering feeling.
“……”
“……”
Silence followed for a moment.
Yoon Seojin stared at me with a dazed expression before belatedly clearing his throat.
“This is the final question.”
He put down his pen and looked directly at me.
“What kind of side of yourself would you like to show going forward?”
‘Going forward.’
In three months… Park Songhoo would be gone.
There was no meaning in asking me this question, and even if the real Park Songhoo had been sitting here, it would have been difficult for him to answer.
‘What should I do with this one?’
First, silence.
If the silence dragged on, that itself would become an answer.
‘And if I shed just a few tears here…’
Perfect.
As a climactic performance, nothing could be better.
The problem was whether I could actually cry.
‘Let’s at least try. Crying on cue.’
If it doesn’t work… well, whatever.