The Anti-Fan's Premiere Night
“Nothing worth watching these days.”
The man clutching the remote and grumbling in front of the TV was named Noh Ham-rak.
With a name unusual from the very first syllable, he'd been passionate about acting ever since high school — passionate enough to join the theater club back then. He'd once seriously considered turning acting into a career, but convinced he couldn't survive the treacherous life of an artist, he'd chosen the ordinary path instead. He graduated from an unremarkable department, joined an unremarkable mid-sized company, and still loved acting all the same.
“This guy's expressions are still awkward.”
His one and only hobby was watching TV after work and critiquing the performances of countless actors. Movies, dramas, web dramas, commercials — he didn't care about the genre. As long as someone was out there performing, famous or unknown, he watched it all. How many young people these days still made a habit of watching terrestrial TV instead of OTT and YouTube? Noh Ham-rak was a zealot who kept up with broadcast channels on principle alone, driven by a single conviction: to see more acting, faster.
“I really wish something new would come out already.”
The complaint-laden tone typical of amateur critics had worn grooves into his speech, but his love for acting was genuine. Watching an 'actor' perform stirred up a complicated mix of emotions in him. Seeing people standing proudly on the road he never chose — the road fear had kept him from even attempting — gave him a feeling he couldn't quite name. Inferiority and self-pity gnawed at him constantly, and yet, if only because of the one thing they shared — a love of acting — Noh Ham-rak couldn't help but yearn for actors. When he saw an actor performing well and doing justice to the script, his heart pounded. When he saw one whose acting wasn't particularly great but who burned with passion anyway, he'd mutter feedback to himself, choosing his words as gently as he could manage.
And there was one actor he despised more than anyone.
“Honey, are we watching the drama with Useless tonight?”
“...I guess I have to.”
Noh Ham-rak ground his teeth as he answered his girlfriend. For all that it was an affirmation, negativity radiated off his face in waves.
Ha, I don't want to watch it.
But he had to. If you wanted to trash something, you had to watch it first. I'm not about to sink to the level of those idiots who spew hate at things they've never even seen.
The acting Yoo Seul-ho had put on display over the years was genuinely atrocious — atrocious beyond the point of pain, into the realm of the dismal. In order to properly tear apart acting of that caliber, Noh Ham-rak had watched every single one of Yoo Seul-ho's works without missing a one. It was true what they said: an anti is scarier than a fan. Yoo Seul-ho's meager handful of fans licked his face, sure, but never sought out his actual work. And how could they? Watch his work, and you couldn't be his fan.
Why on earth doesn't he just retire?
Anyway, Noh Ham-rak's dislike of Yoo Seul-ho wasn't solely about the terrible acting.
He doesn't even love acting...
It takes one to know one. Through the eyes of Noh Ham-rak, who loved acting, it was obvious: Yoo Seul-ho had no affection for the craft whatsoever. He doesn't love it, he's not even good at it — so why does he keep acting? Most people are too afraid of the unstable future to even attempt this field, but for Yoo Seul-ho, it was probably the only stable future there was. He hated the sight of it — so utterly at odds with his own circumstances.
And tonight, Yoo Seul-ho's new drama was premiering.
“Honey, want some popcorn?”
“Not for me. You have my share.”
Noh Ham-rak flatly refused his girlfriend's offer. Watching Yoo Seul-ho act was guaranteed to kill his appetite. Whether or not she understood how he felt, his girlfriend rattled on, a bowl full of popcorn hugged to her chest.
“This drama's been chaos since the production announcement. Between that and how viral it went, everyone at the office was talking about it today. You know my friend Jiye? Even she went to her parents' place to catch the live broadcast.”
“It's that big a deal?”
“She's a Woo Jun-seo fan. Admiring Woo Jun-seo and ripping on Useless's acting — two birds with one stone for her.”
Noh Ham-rak shook his head.
“I will never understand why people like Woo Jun-seo. It's obviously an act.”
“That's because you're a guy, sweetie. Women love him. He's sweet, he's got manners.”
“It's all acting, I'm telling you. I'll grant that he acts well. But no matter how good an actor you are, performing twenty-four hours a day is fishy. People with something to hide usually come across fake like that.”
“There you go again. Fine, fine. Let's just watch.”
Despite his girlfriend's scolding, Noh Ham-rak stoutly held forth on his philosophy of acting. And then it was nine o'clock, and after an endless stretch of commercials, Space of You and Me Episode 1 began.
["Mom, I'm heading out~!"]
A young woman's bright voice opened the drama's first scene. The camera swept through a living room drenched in sunlight and landed on a girl in the entryway, jamming her feet into her shoes. The girl, a college freshman to anyone's eye, called out with a giddy expression.
["Mom! I said I'm off to school?!"]
["Oh my, you'll burst my eardrums. Who said you couldn't go? Off you go."]
["What kind of mother is that? It's my first day of school and you won't even see me off? No goodbye kiss? No allowance? I'm hurt, truly."]
["Kiss, my foot. The kiss comes at the end, I suppose. Ugh, fine — I'll see you out later, now hurry! You'll be late."]
["Hehe, thanks~."]
The girl flashed her mother a playfully aegyo-laden smile and walked straight out the door. The sky was cloudless and the streets were full of people just starting their day. She put in her earphones and walked slowly along.
The street noise faded little by little until, at some point, it was replaced entirely by the song in her ears. The image of the girl walking along, humming to herself, radiated the bright energy particular to youth dramas. The university wasn't far from home, and before long her leisurely stroll brought her within sight of the campus. The moment it did, the girl — a happy smile spreading across her face — stepped inside.
The upbeat song carried on, and the screen whisked through her first day of school. Nervously striking up conversation with strangers, heading to the cafeteria with a newly made friend, stifling yawns through orientation — and so on.
["Didn't know orientation would take two whole hours. Ugh~."]
With every activity finally over, the girl stretched her arms to the ceiling and shot up from her chair.
—Thud!
At that exact moment, she collided with a man who was passing behind her. As his belongings clattered to the floor, their eyes met.
["Oh no! I'm so sorry!! I didn't know anyone was behind me — I'm really sorry!"]
["It's fine."]
Startled, the girl hastily bent down to help gather his things. But the man had already scooped up every last item in an instant, gave a brisk bow of his head, and hurried out of the lecture hall.
["Phew. Gotta watch myself. Seo Yu-na."]
The girl — Seo Yu-na — stared after the man for a moment, then smacked her own forehead. And the camera moved on, following the man out of the lecture hall.
[ "......" ]
With his cap pulled low, the man strode along at a brisk clip, like someone with no leisure for a leisurely walk. He left the campus, stopped at a bus stop, and boarded the bus that soon arrived. Even though the afternoon light hadn't yet faded, the bus was packed to capacity. Holding the plastic handrail, the man gazed out the window with a blank expression.
The drama then showed, in quick succession, the man arriving at his part-time job and rushing to change clothes, emptying a stuffed trash can in the corner of the shop, and bowing and scraping apologetically to a demanding customer. But unlike the girl's day with its bright soundtrack, not a single note of music accompanied the man's. Just—
—squeak, clack, thud, beep.
Nothing but the din of everyday life, amplified until it filled the soundtrack with noise. As the grating sounds refused to stop, growing louder and louder, and the brows of everyone watching began to furrow —
[ "......" ]
Every sound cut off at once, and the screen showed the man arriving home at last. Seemingly too exhausted even to take off his shoes, he crouched where he stood in the entryway and let out a long sigh.
["Haaa..."]
He splashed water on his face, then raised his head and looked around the house. Not a single light was on, and the place was pitch dark, without a trace of another living soul. The camera quietly closed in on the man's face as he gazed into the silent house. That face — utterly drained of life, brimming with nothing but exhaustion and weariness—
—click.
The entryway sensor light, detecting no further movement, switched off, and the man's face vanished into darkness. A few seconds later, white letters slowly surfaced on the black screen.
The real thing was beginning.
“Cinematography doesn't look bad, huh?”
Noh Ham-rak, seated on the sofa, readily agreed with his girlfriend.
“Right? Not bad at all.”
PD Jang Min-gu, who wrote and directed Space of You and Me, was a director whose skill Noh Ham-rak had already acknowledged just the other evening. The opening, which laid bare the heroine and hero's starkly contrasting circumstances in the most intuitive way possible, was no worse than he'd hoped.
The cheerful heroine and the wounded hero combo, huh.
The story was so classic it bordered on cliché, which was a bit of a shame — but he knew that terrestrial dramas were supposed to have that familiar flavor to sell well, so he had no major complaints.
["Come on, there was no need to be sarcastic about it!"]
The drama flowed along smoothly, and soon the heroine and hero were shown clashing. The two were architecture freshmen thrown together on a group project, and thanks to the subject matter itself, their very first conversation went off the rails.
["When have I ever been sarcastic?"]
["Right now! This very second! This whole time!"]
The group project's theme was 'the form of a home where animals and people coexist.' Unlike the heroine, who raised a border collie in a two-story house in the heart of Seoul, the hero — worn ragged by the sheer cost of feeding himself — found the idea of caring for an animal more than a little daunting. So a barbed remark slipped out of him, and the heroine, who had been biting her tongue over his uncooperative attitude the entire time, finally exploded.
["What is your problem, anyway? I, for one—"]
["Don't you think you're the one creating problems?"]
["Don't interrupt people!! GRRRHH!!!"]
The heroine's explosive outburst was played with a comedic touch. It was a conflict scene, to be sure, but directed lightly in keeping with the genre, so viewers didn't suffer much stress over it.
They're both good at this.
Noh Ham-rak felt quite satisfied. The two leads' 'that psycho!' versus 'that stick-in-the-mud!' dynamic was practically the formula for a romance drama. The story was as predictable as he'd expected from the opening, but the actors' solid chops kept it from losing its charm.
Neither of them is an actor I need to worry about.
He personally didn't care for the man, but Woo Jun-seo was the hottest male celebrity of the moment and a genuinely skilled actor to boot. And Choi Ran, a veteran who'd been working since her child-actor days, went without saying.
The problem is that a blemish named Yoo Seul-ho is about to be stamped onto this...
The thought made Noh Ham-rak sad, even as part of him wondered, Wait, is he even in this?
Does he actually show up in episode 1?
He'd assumed it would be more of the same, given that the man had played nothing but Useless characters for the past several years — but as he watched, he found himself thinking: after all that viral marketing, this would be too much, wouldn't it?
["Food can wait. Sleep first..."]
The hero appeared on screen, trudging home on spent legs after his disastrous fight with the heroine. And that was when it happened.
["Still not dead yet?"]
A light, careless voice dropped down onto the hero's head.