'No'minate (1)

A standing ovation erupted.

It was the manifestation of a collective catharsis. The moment the film ended, every single person in the room shared the exact same emotion. It wasn't empty courtesy; they were all deeply moved by the final scene. Given the nature of the venue, while many had red-rimmed eyes, not many wept openly. Yet, they all felt the same heavy, suffocating emotion swelling in their chests.

Echos of a Family was a masterpiece that delicately captured the moments everyone experiences and feels at least once in their lives. Through the tragic affliction of dementia, the film explored the emotional entanglement between parent and child—a gap that could never be fully bridged.

Thus, the climax of the film was resolved not through dialogue, but through sound. It was a moment where the director's vision shone brilliantly, perfectly synchronized with the actors' performances.

After that brief but intense performance, the father and son's gazes crossed.

Then, moving into the epilogue, the film showed the son's present life, having quit his job and returned to his father's house. Momentarily distracted by the cozy, warm scenery of the house, he made the mistake of pouring coffee into an upside-down cup, just as his father used to do. Staring blankly down at it, he soon welcomed his "colleagues" as they walked through the door.

The screen then transitioned to show the father sitting in a nursing home, his face peaceful. The previous emptiness in his eyes was gone. Even in a blank-slate state, like in his childhood, he remembered a special "sound."

The connection with his precious son.

Clack, clack-clack, clack.

The sound of the typewriter stretched out, transitioning into another scene.

Having forgiven his father and reclaimed himself, the son rhythmically tapped his drumsticks together.

Clack, clack-clack, clack.

The credits slowly rolled up, accompanied by a metal version of the film's main theme. The music, delivered entirely through humming without any lyrics, reinforced the film's core theme.

The contrast between the typewriter and the drumsticks represented the inheritance from father to son, and the overlapping of those sounds symbolized the connection of family.

It was a reconciliation achieved through actions, not words.

Years of accumulated expectations, disappointments, and misunderstandings. The two men, who could never express their feelings in words, had finally reconciled.

“The acting, the cinematography, and the music all came together... and in the end, language was excluded.”

“This is truly a story that could only shine through the medium of cinema.”

“Even if Jack Nicholson was already a known legend, Sion Lee's acting is... absolutely astonishing.”

“Isn't he only twenty-six? How can he weave such intricate emotions at that age?”

In various corners of the theater, people pondered the film in their own ways. And the sound of their collective applause signified that their thoughts were united as one.

Of course, someone was thinking, “That bastard Sion Lee is going to cock around and act all high-and-mighty again.”

The owner of that particular thought was Frederic Patterson, who fancied himself a hero of the lowest class in Hollywood. Yet, even that playful thought was soon sublimated into pure admiration through his own enthusiastic applause.

Meanwhile, there were those who silently reflected on the profound emotion of the film alongside their applause. Elena Asimov was one of them.

“I was like that, too.”

She glanced sideways at her mother, who was smiling and clapping beside her.

Her mother, the actress she respected more than anyone. But Elena hadn't always been able to understand her mother's words and actions. Especially after she decided to take charge of her own career through her relationship with Sion, Elena had begun to question her mother, bit by bit.

Particularly after she went to college, they had occasionally argued. In the beginning, she had felt dejected, fearing she had become a bad daughter. But after those arguments, her favorite dishes would always appear on the dinner table that evening.

Elena vaguely understood it as her mother's way of offering a truce, a sign that she was being recognized as an adult.

Those very emotions felt much clearer now as she watched this film.

In the movie, Dan, played by Sion, showed so much through actions rather than words. He wasn't the type to speak eloquently or smoothly. Instead, he often revealed his thoughts through split-second reactions and gestures. Because of his character, the themes of reconciliation between parent and child, and communication through non-verbal means, hit home with absolute clarity.

Staring at Sion Lee, who had delivered those themes with such magnificent acting, Elena smiled warmly.

“I'll have to let him know later.”

How she had perceived the film.

Through non-verbal expression.

Only after the first premiere ended and I finished all the subsequent scheduled events was I finally able to return home.

"Whew."

Pretending to be all serious, which didn't suit me at all, felt utterly exhausting. But what could I do? Everyone wanted a piece of this superstar, so I had to deliver.

That was how I made money, which I then reinvested, buying stocks in companies that would either explode in the future or maintain a steady upward trajectory. And using the network I built in the process, I could continue supporting my agency and production businesses so they would thrive.

Anyway, I used to think that if a person worked hard like that, they'd eventually make something of their life.

And...

It turned out to be true.

To be precise... I was running toward money and fame as an actor, but because I happened to have good people around me, it felt like a special meaning was naturally being attributed to my actions. And when I got touched by those situations and helped them out a bit using my future knowledge, they got touched in return, creating a continuous virtuous cycle.

“Well, yeah... this is why people regress.”

It had been successful so far, though I wouldn't want to do it all over again.

What was particularly memorable was the reaction and emotion I felt when parting with Jack Nicholson today, after officially showcasing the film.

A legendary Hollywood star, whom ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I had only stared at from afar in my past life, had entered my life.

So... it made me feel incredibly small.

“Take care. Let's not see each other for a while unless it's for work.”

A man who didn't know how to give or receive love. Throughout the filming, I had listened closely to the answer he had realized at sixty about a certain emptiness, and I had responded in my own way.

And that was the response that came back.

It sounded just like a father living in the countryside, whom you don't visit often, trying to distance himself on purpose.

...So, with the heart of a son, I replied like this:

“See you later.”

In my past life, my face was ruined, so I could only watch them from a distance. But returning to the '90s, I was able to meet them, communicate with them, and show them who I was.

And the stimulation I received in the process grew me... and was "leaving" me in this world.

On the film reels, and in people's memories.

Of course, the person who gave me the most vivid stimulation was...

"...Wow."

"Are you just getting back?"

"Should we just move in together?"

"What are you talking about? I came through the back door to avoid the paparazzi."

"That's why I'm saying, wouldn't it be easier to just move in so you don't have to do that?"

Elena burst into giggles at my words.

When did it start? The moment her mere existence became so utterly lovely to me.

"Come in. I have something to do for you."

"Oh... I do like stockings."

Pinch!

"Ouch, ouch, ouch!"

"You always act so playful in front of people when you're actually so serious. Though, that's why I like you."

"You've been less prickly lately. Do you think you could be a bit more prickly for me?"

"I hate you. I really hate you."

Her acting was as sharp as ice. It would be great if she sang "Let It Go" later.

Despite her words, Elena naturally took my hand and led me into the living room.

"Go wash up. I have so much I want to talk about."

I was tempted to joke, “Shower together?” but seeing her face practically itching to talk about the movie, I chuckled, went to the bathroom, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just lightly washed my face.

I came out and lay down, resting my head on Elena's lap as she sat on the sofa. She brushed back my damp bangs and asked first.

"How was the movie?"

"As always, it was very you."

"Could you be a bit more specific, please?"

"Actually, I want to hear your thoughts first. Oh, want me to clean your ears?"

"Suddenly...?"

"Yeah. You said it yourself. In the movie. Actions speak louder than words."

Elena pulled out an earpick from somewhere. I tapped her thigh and rolled onto my side, and the cool sensation of the metal entered my ear. Under Elena's gentle touch, a sense of deep comfort washed over me.

It might seem like a strange situation, but the two of us had already transcended such awkwardness. We hadn't even spoken of it properly... but somewhere along the way, we had become like this.

It wasn't the typical feeling of ordinary lovers who simply shared physical intimacy. It was a relationship where we shared our hearts and thoughts about films and acting, contemplating them together.

Language felt far too light to define the emotions we currently felt for each other.

"Your earwax is... dry?"

"It's a trait from my father's side. He was Asian."

"Hmm... somehow, hearing 'Sion's father' gives me a certain impression."

"What kind of impression?"

"I feel like he would have been incredibly cheerful."

"Wrong. Not at all."

I chuckled, conjuring up the faint image of my father in my mind.

"Just a quiet man. That's about all I remember... though my mother did say he was blunt."

"Then was your mother the cheerful one?"

"Yeah. Thanks to her, despite how I look, I was a son who grew up receiving plenty of love."

"I can tell. Especially when I look at your bottomless confidence."

Elena gently stroked my hair. Turning to face the other way, I wrapped my arms around her waist without realizing it. I voiced the thought that came to mind.

"Yeah, it's like this earwax."

"What...?"

"Proof that my father once existed in this world."

"Uh, Sion? That sounds a bit harsh..."

"Ah, no, not like that... damn it."

Whenever I tried to talk about my parents, my words got a bit clumsy. Sensing this, Elena giggled and stroked my hair again.

"It's okay, my prince. Take your time."

"..."

"Your Ellie will stay right here and listen."

...I felt like a spoiled child. Even though my actual mental age was more than double hers.

"I meant that this body inherited from my parents is both the tool through which I understand them and the proof that they once lived."

"That makes sense."

Elena began to share her own experience.

"When I was younger, I used to feel a bit uncomfortable whenever my mother acted high-handed on set. But recently, I found myself doing the exact same thing on the Star Wars set. Because I, too, have a perfectionist streak just like her. So, I'm trying my best not to do that, using that side of my mother—whom I respect but found difficult—as a cautionary tale."

She then shook her head.

"Maybe it won't work. My mother is the greatest industry professional I know, and even she couldn't fix it in her entire lifetime. But... since I learned by watching the best, I thought maybe I could do better. I'm going to keep trying."

"...That's wonderful."

I had the body, and Elena had the mind. And those two things must be how people remember their parents.

I slowly raised my palm, blocking the faint light as I stared at it. Elena's hand overlapped mine.

So, it was a story like this.

My parents had already passed away. In terms of actual time, it had been decades. Naturally, my memories of them had faded. The parts they never told me, I would never know or understand for the rest of my life.

"Even so, as long as I am alive, as long as I keep living, they are always with me."

Even if I wasn't conscious of it... it would remain in my heart like a "sound."

"And even after I die, someone else might carry it on."

"A son or a daughter?"

"...?"

A sudden chill ran down my spine at those words.

Because not long ago, the man I secretly thought of as a second father, Jack Nicholson, had told me this:

“Never get married. Never.”

But...

"What are ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you thinking about?"

"Uh, what?"

"Which is it? Tell me clearly."

"...Should we try making one tonight?"

Pinch!

Elena, her face flushed red, looked down at me as she pinched my cheek again. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

...Hmm. Incredibly charming.

I pressed my lips to hers.

"..."

"..."

To say it again, language is far too light to express our emotions. Besides, the lips and tongues meant to speak those words had already begun to be used to crave each other.

December 17, 1998.

On the holiday ahead of Christmas, Echos of a Family, starring Sion Lee and Jack Nicholson, was released.

Perhaps because they hadn't put much effort into marketing, the film didn't garner much public attention the moment it came out. Unlike Sion's previous movies, there weren't long lines stretching in front of the theaters from the very beginning. However, a single line of information on a single poster was more than enough to get people to buy tickets once they arrived at the theater.

It was the casting.

"What? Sion Lee and Jack Nicholson?"

"Oh... that's a really fresh combination."

"Come to think of it, I think I saw a few TV commercials for this movie recently."

People who bought tickets out of curiosity rather than anticipation checked the synopsis ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the pamphlets distributed at the theater before the movie started. And they all tilted their heads in confusion, wondering what this was about.

Because it was a slightly different film from what they expected given the star power of the two actors.

"A human drama?"

"A touching recovery?"

It was a combination of the new king leading the current Hollywood trend and a character actor who had been a legend in the past and was now something even greater. Yet, it was a genre like this. While intrigued, everyone entered the theater half-believing, half-doubting if it would actually be good.

And what they faced on the silver screen was...

Kate Winslet held Sion's hand as she told him there was no need to understand his father.

A beautiful, quiet story that struck a fresh chord in those who listened.

The people who walked out of the theater didn't show an overwhelmingly explosive reaction. Although standing ovations erupted repeatedly as the ending credits rolled at the end of every screening, it was closer to an appreciation born from the fact that the film's main theme, "sound," had resonated deeply. Most of them, rather than analyzing and accepting the emotions welling up inside them, simply reacted immediately to the resonance of the heavy, lingering emotion and felt satisfied.

But perhaps even that reaction was part of the film.

Thoughts of parents who are gradually weakening and will one day leave our side can only spread slowly, like a single drop of ink falling into still water.

That day, a man living in New York who worked at a brokerage firm watched the movie alone and returned to his apartment. He was a successor to the so-called "yuppies." Sitting in his cramped apartment, which was hard to imagine given the expensive rent, he stared out at the neon lights and high-rise buildings for a long time, humming the melody that was still lingering in his head.

He, who had abandoned everything and focused solely on work for the sake of success, picked up the dust-covered telephone in his apartment for the first time in a long while and called his parents in his hometown.

"Yeah, Mom. Yes... I'm doing well. No, nothing's wrong. Just wanted to see if you needed some pocket money."

Such occurrences began to take place all across America.