The Night Bright as Day, and the Last Farewell
"Step aboard."
Myeong-do and Seoryeong climbed into a tiny ferry boat. This was Hyeonun-ji, the Land of Dark Clouds, where the darkness dwelled — the darkness that swallowed the village whole as fear grew ever larger.
"Hey, hold still! Isn't this sinking because of you?"
Seoryeong, clutching the hand Myeong-do offered her, went wide-eyed with fright on the little boat. Myeong-do laughed softly and steadied her as she wobbled.
"Is that any way possible?"
What Seoryeong had chosen was something that would light the village bright even at night. Every last coin of her fortune had gone into buying bright lanterns and setting off fireworks.
Myeong-do, remembering how Seoryeong had once said that someday, when she died, she would spend everything she had before she went, steeled himself at her decision. Death had drawn near enough for him to feel it in his bones.
Are you trying, to the very end, to keep the promise you made?
"Do it properly. Row it properly, I said!"
"You needn't rush me so. This oar knows its business."
"I'm telling you, I hate falling into water!"
"And I have no particular desire to fall in either, so you may rest assured."
Watching Myeong-do's expression at that, Seoryeong gave a shrug of her shoulders. Then she told him that spending this much was fine — she could always earn more later. She even snapped at him, asking just what he took her for.
It was the first promise anyone had ever made her in her entire life. That attitude, as though to say there would be a next time, lit up Myeong-do's face — bright as a lantern in the dead of night.
"It's as bright as day, even though it's night."
"Of course it is. Look how much I spent."
Seoryeong and Myeong-do fell briefly into thought, gazing up at the lanterns embroidered across the sky.
The end was approaching. Soon she would have to face Yeomga. In that final moment, Seoryeong made up her mind — just as Myeong-do had said so many times, there were ways to punish Yeomga other than death.
Stripping her of her divine power and sealing it away. There existed, among her options, the very line at which Seoryeong could barely preserve her own life.
"What do you want to do afterward?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"When everything is over. I'm asking what you want to do."
"Well. I only hope the country finds peace, first of all."
Seoryeong turned her head to scold him — is that all you have to say? — and found Myeong-do's gaze coming straight and unwavering toward her.
As though his eyes had been fixed on her and her alone from the very beginning.
"Do you have any idea how much I spent for that peace of yours? Don't spout such boring nonsense — just enjoy the lanterns! An event like this in a backwater like this will never happen twice."
Seoryeong turned her head away, grumbling for no particular reason. That was when it happened. A fierce wind rose, and the ferry boat creaked for a moment.
"Aaagh…! Row straight, I said!"
"A boat is permitted to sway a little."
"You think I don't know that? It's a tiny little boat! If it were a big one, I wouldn't be this uneasy."
Myeong-do smiled at the sight of Seoryeong shouting loudly even as she trembled. And then the wind rose again.
"Ah…! My string! My Five Blessings String!"
Because of it, the string bound around Seoryeong's wrist came loose and flew far, far away. Just as Seoryeong was about to burst into tears watching the Five Blessings String drift along on the water—
Splash. Something was thrown onto the calm current.
Myeong-do swam toward it. The sound of chopping water rose again and again. Seoryeong simply watched his back as he cut through the darkness. Myeong-do gripped the drowned string in his hand and returned to the ferry boat.
"It's a little wet, but… I'll retie it for you."
He couldn't even climb back into the same boat for fear of tipping it, and so he remained in the water, body submerged, as Seoryeong looked down at him.
It was a night when the moonlight waned. The lanterns of the two of them, which had flown away unable even to carry their wishes, stitched the sky above in beauty — and for one moment, a corner of the heart grew bright.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"…"
"Ah — if you dislike touching it because it's wet, I can hold onto it for you until it dries—"
"Your wounds haven't healed yet."
Seoryeong's hand moved slowly toward Myeong-do's outstretched one, water dripping from the string between his fingers. Their fingertips overlapped. It might have been to reclaim the string — or it might have been to hold onto Myeong-do.
"I told you not to go into the water."
On the day Grand Prince Seonghwi's soldiers had searched for them, Myeong-do had faced several well-trained men with nothing but a single sword in order to slip past them. The wound that blade had left had still not healed. The moment it touched water, it would fester.
There was no way a military man like Myeong-do could have been unaware of that fact. He was a man who had lived closer to the sword than anyone.
"Yes. I am well aware of that much."
"Who told you to fish out my Five Blessings String?"
Seoryeong's voice trembled as she spoke. Her fingertips still held the string, and Myeong-do's fingers brushed against them — barely, almost not at all.
Myeong-do looked at Seoryeong. Tenderness lay in his gaze.
"Are you worried for me?"
"…Worried? Please. If you fall ill, it becomes my problem, that's all."
"I see."
Myeong-do smiled brightly. It was the smile of a man who understood her heart completely. The lantern light settled down over his face as though it were gently caressing it.
"I did it without thinking. So forgive me just this once."
"…"
"Because I know how precious it is to you."
Myeong-do slowly took hold of Seoryeong's hand, the one resting at the tips of his own fingers. His large hand wrapped around her small one and drew it into himself — as though that alone were enough.
"…"
Silence settled over the set. Director Jjang, megaphone in hand, should have called the cut — but he couldn't.
"It's… too beautiful…."
Because he was crying. The staff were covering their mouths with both hands as well.
The flickering status window of Kwon Jun-hyeok glowed beneath the lantern light.
In this moment, he was not Kwon Jun-hyeok. He was Myeong-do — a man who would throw himself into freezing water without a second thought for the woman he loved, even knowing the festering wound would bring fever.
A single beautiful scene was caught in Dokgo Min's frame, frozen there like an eternity. And the office worker who had witnessed all of it thought once more:
I'm so glad I came.
"This is insane."
This was Daily Media in Jongno-gu, Seoul. Every reporter in the room was shaking their head at their laptop screens.
"Everyone really has lost their minds…."
The reporters were all in a daze.
The film JC ENM had invested in and the drama it had produced had devoured the year whole. Every single day, new teaser videos were dropping like campaign promises.
"Ticketing was yesterday, right?"
"Don't even get me started. My friends keep begging me to sell them my invite passes — offering to pay over list price, over and over."
"But honestly, seeing it in a theater is going to be something else, right?"
Ticketing for the final episode of Strange Tales had been brutal — fiercer even than a stage greeting featuring any top-tier actor.
Reporter Wi of the DdukB fandom, who had to film a live reaction video while watching the finale in real time, stared at her screen with dead-fish eyes.
Damn it… I should have been the one there….
Aetami had pulled it off in the end. It had taken hiring a dozen mercenaries to do it. Reporter Wi swallowed her tears for a moment.
"Han Yeo-reum is really taking off. Feels like yesterday she came in for an interview shoot — damn."
"I heard she's in the running for The Great M1 Garand?"
"If Jegal Rok pushes her, she could land Eun Baek-hap's young role. No, seriously — is there any Rising star out there right now who's better than her?"
At that, someone chimed in — oh, come on, that's going too far.
"It gets dangerous if Ki Joo-ye comes charging in with China money behind her."
"Ah, right… Her Chinese fandom was pretty solid, wasn't it? I hear Top Class had some serious Chinese investment in it too — overseas rights issues."
Before anyone noticed, the conversation had turned again, circling around to Do Gyeo-ul.
"But say what you will, it's Do Gyeo-ul. You know Netholics Japan? Beyond the Closed Door has been sitting at number one there this whole time."
"So when Netholics finally enters Korea, they're going to contact Do Gyeo-ul first, aren't they?"
"Probably? And I hear she's been reading through all kinds of sageuk scripts. Rowing hard while the tide's in, that one."
With one project after another blowing up for the first time in ages, the entertainment reporters were beside themselves. Whatever they wrote, public attention came standard.
"So — how are we ranking this?"
They were compiling their list of Stars to Watch in the Second Half of the Year. The Daily Media reporters, having debated over the female celebrities, finally settled their ranking.
Tied for First Place: Do Gyeo-ul, Han Yeo-reum
Han Yeo-reum, whose name had been clinging to the bottom edge of the list, had charged her way to the top. It was a terrifying sprint.
And then, the final day of filming for Strange Tales dawned.
All summer long, it had felt like living inside a dream that ran against the current of every moment. One instant I was crying, the next I had to laugh; I would keep my distance, only to ache to be at someone's side.
"Wow! We really put in the work, didn't we! Didn't we!"
Director Jjang, perhaps feeling that same bittersweetness, shouted at the top of his lungs, unable to hide the bright smile spreading across his face. Strange Tales had been a drama unlike any other — one that had rewritten every record in the history of cable television.
"Let's wrap this shoot fast! Tonight, everyone drinks like maniacs — that's an order!"
The staff roared with laughter. That generous, easygoing atmosphere unique to a production on a winning streak hung over the set. The magic hour, just before the sun went down. We had to capture the scene in exactly that light.
"Since it's the last one, I'll make it extra gorgeous for you."
The lighting director, who had sidled up beside me at some point, held out his fist. I dutifully bumped it with mine. He was the same director who had worked with me back on Pachehi.
"You know, we had a little talk among ourselves back then."
"Oh? About what?"
"About which agency you'd end up signing with, Yeo-reum."
Ah, right. I didn't have an agency back then. It had only been a year, but I'd lived it so frantically that my memory of it had gone fuzzy.
"So which one did you pick for me? Bon Actors? Jeongdam? LM?"
"None of the three."
"Then where?"
The lighting director smiled as he watched the rail being set up.
"I just said you'd go somewhere really, really good. Though I never imagined JC would spin up a whole label just to take you."
The set buzzed around us. The thought that I would soon have to say goodbye to this place left me feeling oddly wistful. The final shoot of Pachehi floated back to me.
Running down mountain paths in layer upon layer of hanbok under the blazing summer sun. Rereading lines half-asleep. Waiting for the lunch truck. Getting bitten by mosquitoes and bugs. Living as Seoryeong.
All of it was ending now.
"And you know, not a single soul argued with me back then. Somewhere deep down, we all already knew. That you'd make it, Yeo-reum."
"Director, you can't make me cry before a take! If you keep this up, I really will cry."
"I'm not saying it to make you cry. I'm just saying — that's who we were."
The lighting director nodded simply. Around us, the busy staff had begun their final checks.
"Director—!"
"Oh! Coming!"
Just then, a voice called for the lighting director. He gave my shoulder a couple of friendly pats and headed toward the bright lights.
"Thank you for being our Seoryeong. It's been so long since I… since I worked on something that made the sweat worth it. Yes — thanks to you. Your next one will go just as well, Yeo-reum."
It was obvious he had agonized over whether to say those words for a very long time. As he walked toward the lights, I could see letters smudged across his palm.
"Your cheat sheet is showing, Director."
And now farewells were going to be even harder….
"Yeo-reum! Let's run the blocking rehearsal once more!"
"On it! Coming!"
Still — the time had come to finish things with Seoryeong. It was time to go meet Hee-jae.
It had been beautiful. Beyond that word, I couldn't think of anything else to say. Since it was the final shoot, Geum Bit-gang had willingly come out for us.
'The making-of cameras are rolling, and I have to at least show my face at the dreaded company dinner, after all.'
It was the hour when the riverbank dissolved into a soft orange glow. The scene called for Seoryeong and Myeong-do to embrace. Being the final day of filming, everyone brought their A-game. Rails laid down and laid down again, a drone brought in for an overhead shot — no expense of effort was spared.
Geum Bit-gang had been present on countless sets like this one — so many that she ought to have been past familiarity, into boredom.
"Cut!"
The slate clapped.
"Everyone, thank you for your hard work!"
Taking the director's words as their cue, the whole cast and crew fell into one another's arms, exchanged the usual formulaic well-wishes, and shouted out, drunk on the emotion of a grueling campaign finally at its end.
"Yeo-reum! Oh my — crying the second you hear the cut?"
"Huuu…. What do I do…. I don't want it to be over…."
The lead actors clutched their bouquets, tear-streaked, wrestling desperately against the parting from their characters. All of it — every moment Geum Bit-gang had lived through herself. Nothing about it was remarkable.
Kwon Jun-hyeok and Han Yeo-reum wailed openly. Geum Bit-gang recalled, briefly, the past — that younger version of herself who, unable to accept a goodbye, would stroke the screenplay alone long after filming had wrapped.
"Professor—!"
Mid-sob, Han Yeo-reum spotted her and came running. Geum Bit-gang found herself receiving her in an awkward stance — neither pushing her away nor accepting her.
Through the tight embrace, she could hear the beating of a heart.
"See you next time, Professor. And by then… haaaaang. From the script reading onward, hnngh. You won't have any choice but to say I did well…."
"Next time? Who said anything about next time."
"There are still so many works I want to make with you."
August. Discomfort index at one hundred percent. The temperature soared past thirty degrees — a day when sweat trickled down even if you stood perfectly still.
That shameless disciple of mine, wrapped around me at a toasty 36.5 degrees, kept sobbing and demanding a next time. With Han Yeo-reum hugging her from the riverside, Geum Bit-gang's view opened onto the wide bank beyond.
"Fine, fine. Let go of me."
"Really?"
The sunlight melted downward and glittered. An almost unbearable brilliance pressed against the corners of Geum Bit-gang's eyes.
"I told you to let go, didn't I."
Perhaps, in truth, she had always wanted someone to hold on to her like this. Geum Bit-gang smiled softly, even as she pretended to be put out.
"I'll hold on just a little longer, though…. Honestly, Professor, you don't want to say goodbye to me either, do you…. Hnnnngh…. I know everything…."
Would Han Yeo-reum, struggling so hard to part with her first sixteen-episode drama, be like this on the next project too? Would she still be like this once she'd grown used to leading roles and modest hits were guaranteed?
Curious, if nothing else, to see how her bawling disciple would change, Geum Bit-gang decided to put off her retirement for the time being. She found herself looking forward to the day when Han Yeo-reum — growing by leaps and bounds with every passing day — would come to devour her whole.
It was an emotion she hadn't felt in a very, very long time.
Amid the hot, humid air, with the cicadas screaming and Seoryeong sobbing in the same breath, on a riverbank shimmering gold, Han Yeo-reum's summer — and Strange Tales — at last completed its final shoot.