The Premiere
"I'm sorry, A-yeon… I had no idea you were this terrified of rides."
"…W-what are you talking about? I wasn't really scared or anything."
"Oh? Then how about we go ride that one next?"
"……I'm sorry."
I simply could not accept the fact that I had been so terrified of the Viking—and a children's Viking at that—that I had not only clung to Lee Hye-yeon's shoulder until the ride finally stopped, but had full-on hugged her tight.
"Really…? Okay, then just rest a bit, and when I ride that one, take a picture for me!"
I sank onto a bench and watched from a distance as Lee Hye-yeon joined some other friends and chattered away. Unlike me, she was a total social butterfly.
…Not that that was the important part right now.
A wave of exhaustion heavier than anything I had felt while acting, or even while clawing back a losing game in Rune Breaker, washed over my entire body. Was it because I was smaller now? Because my senses had grown sharper? There was no one who could answer the questions spinning through my head.
But sometimes it is better simply to accept a problem than to dig for its cause and try to fix it.
…It's just a ride. Whatever.
Plenty of people in the world are scared of them. I decided to force myself to forget that I had screamed like an idiot on a children's Viking, and in the end we left Children's Grand Park after riding only that one attraction.
Sitting around killing time on my phone was infinitely better than getting on any more rides.
……Seriously.
Anyway, there was another important piece of news today.
It was the premiere for the movie we had filmed roughly half a year earlier.
When we first started filming, I honestly had not thought much about it. On a whim, by chance, because I was bored, because I was curious, because it looked fun… any trivial reason would have fit.
But things were different now. My mindset had shifted, somehow. Swept up in the atmosphere of everyone building a single work together, I had thrown myself into it more deeply, more sincerely, determined not to be a burden.
Filming and editing were already finished, yet if they had told me there was a problem with one of my scenes and I needed to reshoot, I would have been willing.
"A-yeon's here!"
"Our three-second child acto—"
"Yun PD!"
…What did he just say?
Familiar faces welcomed me, and among them was one person I was genuinely glad to see.
"A-yeon!"
"It's been a while, unnie."
Yun A-gyeong. The makeup artist who had mostly taken care of me. After exchanging greetings with the people I had gotten to know one by one, the premiere began in earnest.
They had rented out an entire theater. Inside were industry people and folks in suits; some had left their cameras outside before entering, so reporters were probably mixed in as well. The film's leads, Seo Hyeon-woo and Park Si-a, were seated near the center. Fortunately I was a bit farther back, slightly off to the side.
Once everyone had taken their seats, Director Kim Tae-sik stepped forward, offered a brief greeting, and even pointed out a few things to watch for.
In the short stretch after his remarks ended and before the movie started, a low murmur rose. It was not idle chatter—people were talking about the film itself—but I kept quiet and waited, picking at the popcorn I had been given ahead of time.
Lee Ye-rim, who had endured a miserable childhood. Kang Min-seok, raised in a wealthy family. They first meet by chance in an alley as children, carry that memory with them, and later reunite as a promising corporate CEO and a famous law-firm attorney. That was the basic skeleton of Until Out.
It looked decent at a glance, yet also like a story you might have seen somewhere before. Handle the distinctive elements well and you get a solid film; mishandle them and it becomes colorless and forgettable.
My reaction after watching the whole thing was simple.
Pretty good.
They wove in past episodes at just the right moments so the tone never grew too light, and in the lighter stretches they slipped in humor so naturally that the atmosphere stayed alive.
The most important part—the romance—was carried by the faces. Sometimes you watch a movie or drama and think, "Why are these two even falling in love?" because you cannot feel the actors' emotional lines. Until Out solved that with pure individual talent.
There is a saying that a face is its own plausibility. You do not even need to lean on that here: the protagonists already shared a childhood bond, both had respectable careers, and there was a scene where they stumbled upon each other's wounds and gently tended them. It was not strange at all that they clicked.
In short, it felt like watching a well-made romance film. When the lights came up I glanced around; everyone's expressions looked good. A faint "We did it!" kind of feeling hung in the air. Apparently the positive impression had not been mine alone.
The day after the premiere. For the first time in ages I did not hand in my smartphone. Honestly, how was I supposed to sit still without checking the reactions? My plan was to look them over during the leisurely lunch break, then pretend I had simply forgotten and turn the phone in afterward.
"Hmm…"
Why was there praise for me? After skimming a few more reactions from people who had won lottery tickets to the premiere, I moved on to the critics.
Seeing praise for me even in the critics' reviews made it clear that the editing really was something special. They had transformed the scenes I was in until they looked like the work of a master actress.
…A little embarrassing. I rubbed the back of my neck and cleared my throat for no reason.
No matter what game you play, there will always be toxic players who live to troll. Rune Breaker was no exception. In the low tiers it barely mattered if your team deliberately threw; the other side was just as bad, so the damage was limited. But once you reached Master, where people at least knew how to play, a single empty slot felt enormous.
"Ah…"
I let out a sigh at the defeat logo on the monitor.
My head was burning. I had genuinely wanted to win, and losing to a team throw made it worse.
That was a teammate just as furious as I was typing away. Chat bans for swearing kept getting stricter by the day, yet true Korean willpower never bowed to such petty tricks. Just take a short ban, or if it is bad, treat it like a few days of vacation and vent.
"…"
I stopped my fingers halfway to the keyboard and took a small breath. I needed to calm the anger over my win rate dropping from nearly ninety percent to eighty, and over losing because of garbage teammates like this. Plus, knowing someone was listening to my voice made me feel like I would end up sharing the emotion and letting something ugly slip out.
…How did they know?
Maybe it was because nearly half a year had passed since I started streaming. The no-communication concept had turned out better than expected, so I had stuck with it, but now viewers who had memorized my patterns were starting to appear.
"Uh… yeah. Thanks for the donation first."
At least say thank you before turning it off.
Click.
I ended the stream and briefly rewound the replay.
Ah. I shouldn't have rotated there.
No matter how overwhelming my mechanical skill was, Rune Breaker was a five-versus-five team game. There was a limit to how high you could climb on solo carry alone.
…Honestly, if it had not been for that godawful patch Thomas pushed to force a 50% win rate for "fairness," I probably would have hit Grandmaster ages ago. But the important thing was my own skill. Whether the team was bad or not, staying stuck in Master meant some of the fault was mine.
…Any more and it'll be too late.
Remembering how Yun Hyeon-mi had heaved a deep sigh yesterday when I stayed at the PC room late gaming, I shut off the computer and stood up.
"Bye, A-yeon~"
"Good night."
I said goodbye to Lee Yu-ri, who was draped limply over the counter, and stepped outside. Snow had piled up thickly.
Crunch, crunch.
"Haa…"
White vapor spilled from my lips with every breath. Strangely, almost no one was out on the streets. A silence-draped road. Only the small footprints of someone walking the same path as always were left behind.
A little time passed, and I turned twelve. The thing I had worried about most after filming—someone recognizing me—never happened.
…Actually, being split into a different class from Lee Hye-yeon and ending up alone had been the bigger worry.
Anyway, Until Out was a film aimed at adults. The title, the content—none of it was kid-friendly. You probably needed to be at least a middle-schooler, maybe high-schooler, before it was even watchable.
Aside from the orphanage teachers, who had asked a few filming-related questions and then politely pretended not to care, there was no one around me likely to have seen Until Out. So as time quietly ticked by, that particular worry gradually faded.
…Until the day before parents' observation class, that is.
"Hey!"
"…?"
A boy I had zero memory of ever speaking to strode up like he owned the place.
"My mom said you were in a movie?"
Oh, for heaven's sake, Mother…
My head started throbbing. Well, of course. You show up for your son's observation day and sitting right there is the child actress from a five-million-viewer hit. Factor in the brief viral buzz on NewTube and elsewhere… yeah. This had been inevitable. Even though a full year had already passed since the film's release.
"……I don't really know what you're talking about."
"R-really?"
"Yeah. I absolutely never filmed any movie. Absolutely not."
So please do not go spreading rumors anywhere.
Please.