Rowdy Awards Ceremony (2)
There was a particular reason why a dogfight had broken out among the elite celebrities near Kang Min.
"Hey, up there! No, upper right! Yeah, that's Kang!"
"Damn, hard to see..."
"Next to him is Director Gonzalez, old man Geisler... and is that Aislinn Lewis? My God, it's totally their own league!"
"Not even funny. I couldn't dream of connections like that even after five years, let alone nine months..."
"Hmm, he looked cool in the William White video, but up close he seems kinda cute..."
"Peter...?"
If you trusted the adage that true superstars drive both fans and haters insane, then this year's Emmy star was already decided.
The murmurs spreading even before the event began only grew louder once it started.
It was a situation even world-class actors found extraordinary. They smiled gracefully for the cameras but never stopped their lip movements.
"Has a nine-month rookie ever been nominated for an acting award?"
"For supporting, it's rare but not impossible. Lead? Never. You need the lead role first to even be considered."
"And it was just a 50-second spot..."
"Oh, 'just' doesn't cut it. In those 50 seconds, Kang did what I couldn't trade for 80 hours of mine."
"Exactly. Who'd have thought those old fogeys would go this far? Might make history tonight."
The longer their careers, the more favorable their assessments.
That snobbish Emmy judging panel had upended standards for a foreign newbie actor—
They knew how absurd that feat was, and his performance deserved their respect. No reason not to be kind to a colleague who'd one day reach their level.
Many actors thought it'd be worth chatting if they got the chance.
In other words, not everyone felt that way.
'Ha, Emmys have hit rock bottom!'
'Blacks were enough; now it's gone too far with a yellow?'
'Heh, let's see the monkey clown.'
There were the obvious racists, and those too junior to applaud a monster rookie casually. Either way, they didn't like Kang Min.
But they kept thoughts inside. Basic realism—they knew speaking out wouldn't end well.
...Of course, exceptions exist everywhere.
"Oh, good to see you, Harry!"
"...Ah, Mr. King. Hello."
"Oh, call me Benjamin casually. You've earned that much."
"Haha..."
"Heard you're suffering because of that Asian clown lately. Hang in there. It'll pass."
"......Yes."
Chun-sik Gordon—Harry Gordon—averted his eyes from Kang Min in the corner, forcing an awkward smile at Benjamin King's friendly shoulder pat.
He harbored grudges against Kang Min and vented to others. But he had no desire to buddy up with real racist hardliners.
Chun-sik tried to slip away, but birds of a feather flock together.
One opened the floodgates, and unwanted seniors swarmed.
"Oh, Benjamin, what's the fun chat?"
"Christopher! Perfect timing—no one to talk sense with. Welcome."
"Damn, that fake actor over there bugs me to death."
"Haha, same here, Andrew!"
Benjamin King.
Christopher Walker.
Andrew Garcia—
Each had their status, so people hushed it, but they routinely spewed veiled racism and stirred scandals.
Naturally, they dismissed the recent William White frenzy as S&W-forced meme hype.
"Not denying 'Steel' Kim or 'Wisestone' Lee are great directors. But this is blatant manipulation."
"If you're patriotic, do it in your homeland. Why ruin American spirit?"
"Exactly!"
Every whisper drew uncomfortable stares. Sandwiched Chun-sik sweated bullets.
Still, that was tolerable. But with three idiots together, it escalated.
During intermission, big-shot Benjamin King stood boldly.
"Since it's come up, shall we head up? Wanna hear what that fake actor says."
"Oh, count me in!"
"You'll join too, Harry?"
"Y-yes..."
Chun-sik was dragged along, weeping internally.
No time to despair at reuniting with Kang Min after weeks.
Benjamin King smirked at Kang Min right away.
"Mr. White. Seat uncomfortable? Manipulated trends fizzle like that."
"...?"
"What'd you say?"
Stefan Geisler and Director Lloyd Gonzalez beside him scowled first.
As Kang Min stroked his chin with a hum, they shot up together.
The mess began.
Punching mid-Emmys on camera? Unacceptable.
Not even shaving your wife's head.
So followed perfect expression control for cameras—and a very dignified(?) verbal spat.
"Saw your latest film tank miserably, Mr. King. Understand the anger, but don't take it out on others."
"Oh, Director Gonzalez. Bow to a kid half your age? Sad, clinging to a newbie!"
"What the hell at your age, King? No shame?"
"Haha, no shame's you, schlepping for S&W, Geisler!"
Stefan Geisler and Lloyd Gonzalez stayed civil as possible, but King's deliberate jabs were tough. Impressive camera management, but voices rose inevitably.
Attention gathered slowly.
Exactly as Benjamin King planned.
He smirked inwardly.
'Good, stage set. Plenty flop from early fame and scandals.'
'Get mad, monkey. I'll make it your suicide goal.'
Common misconception: America lacks actor hierarchies. Juniors openly shaming seniors is taboo, even if not strictly by debut year.
Process matters, but King could spin it. He'd survived Hollywood on style alone.
'Plenty hate this monkey already. Just need an excuse.'
'I'll give it—William White bubble bursts.'
'Aislinn Lewis there? Bonus. Hot now, but dumb bimbo. Reel her in nicely.'
"Don't react at all."
Aislinn whispered seriously to Kang Min, head bowed.
"He's baiting you to explode. Annoying, but sly as hell. Won't end well for you."
"Staying quiet won't be great either."
"Better victim than aggressor. Want USA Today plastered tonight?"
"Hm."
USA Today wasn't yellow press but leaned tabloid-ish vs. Korea's mainstream. Trusted, neutral politically—huge influence.
Simply: Aislinn said 'swallow it unless you wanna quit acting.'
But their trio's spat intensified.
"The hell—"
"You—"
"Ha—!"
Reactions spread beyond nearby to sections. Camera FD noticed, observing.
Timing ripe, King cleared throat. Zeroed on Kang Min.
"Anyway, actor White... no, Zhang?"
"Kang."
"Right, Kang. One thing I've wondered."
King grinned, raising voice.
"You hardly ever act 'normal,' right?"
"King, enough!"
"Shut it, Geisler—this is actor-to-actor. Look, Kang. I checked your work. All freaky. William White aside, weird Korean ads, Unbelievable, latest stuff—all bizarre."
"...Hm."
"Absurd scripts make viewers laugh, fake acting then croak... Especially, everything ends in death. No exceptions."
"........"
"I think it's gimmick fooling viewers, not proper acting. Thoughts? William White dying to a legged gun? Laughable, even for an ad."
Lloyd and Stefan raged, guts twisting—but sharp strike.
It pinpointed what no one had: Kang Min's weakness. Even he frowned briefly.
Situation worsened.
Murmurs everywhere, cameras turned. FD watched intently.
One slip: buried.
"Don't react..."
Aislinn pleaded.
"Don't you see? All eyes on us. Better than now—no dodging. Please endure...!"
"Thanks, but why such care?"
"Not the point...!"
"True. So I'll hear details later."
"Huh?"
"Actor requested character insight. I believe people can understand each other."
Kang Min shrugged casually, turning.
'This mad—'
Aislinn winced. King smirked triumphantly. Bystanders shook heads or pitied obvious gaffe. Cameras zoomed perfectly.
But,
Kang Min's words differed.
"Normal people don't wake thinking how to die today."
"...?"
Blink-fest.
What?
Random—
King's face twisted first, expecting curses.
He sneered.
"What? Dodging? Pathetic—"
"Before coming here, I've been countless others."
"What?"
"Never felt that, Mr. King? Hungry vs. full self different, pre-acting vs. post, morning vs. evening you."
"......?"
Humans aren't continuous.
Feelings shift: recent friend vs. months-ago.
Loved spouse turns hated enemy.
Even family.
Moment-to-moment 'me' seems same, but different.
Groom beaming ignores future self's 'regret forever' as nonsense.
How same person?
Blinking King spat exaggeratedly.
"Ha, what bullshit—pathetic, enough—"
"But all 'selves' unify truly once."
"What?"
"At death. My acting starts there."
"...?"
Kang Min, died endlessly, knew.
Dying thoughts: true valuables.
Morning fights with parents, wife spats, kid rifts—pre-death, honest.
Grudges, irritations, anger, resentment vanish. Pure priorities remain.
"Personally, that's human essence."
"......."
"If you can't grasp William White's end, we have much to discuss. Speak freely."
King blinked blankly.
Way off expected flow.
But thousand-death man's dung philosophy just began.
Kang Min unleashed.
"William White's a swordsman. As fine actor, you know: my William's swordplay differs slightly. Minimal vertical cuts."
"?"
"Yes, obvious. Sorry for dumb question. Vertical cuts excel one-on-one. But vs. groups? Worst. Recovery leaves you exposed. I implied William hates swarms... impression possible? You know."
"...?"
"Dumb again. Expanding: swordsmen train years/decades via imitation to mastery. Yet avoids groups— what environment? Pursues/avoids what? Sword path unchanged? If changed, what? Unchanged, why? Why 'unacceptable' often—ultimate reality includes all via inclusive harmony. Emotions, thoughts, will—mere sensory, psychological insights don't encompass. Surface elements. Thus William's reality in sword fragments—not itself key—and death-moment expression. My take."
"......???"
"Yes. Though debatable. But ultimate interpretation: irreplaceable individual life. William's pre-death face fits because..."
King realized: touched something bad.
Bystanders gaped.
Even Lloyd, Stefan, Aislinn, King's allies—blank stares. No thought, just fluent torrent's power.
Meaning: no one could help King...
"—that's my view. Your thoughts, Mr. King?"
"Uh, I, well..."
"Agree first point?"
"Er, yes, totally..."
"Hm. Differs from mine."
"?"
"Then revisit grouping individuals! Getting exciting!"
"...???"
Back to start.
King flapped helplessly, speechless. Cameras, stares pinned.
Cold sweat beaded.
What.
What'd I touch—
"— — —."
"Uh..."
"— ———?"
"O-of course not."
"———?"
"N-no, misspoke. Earlier..."
"——."
"Th-that, uh..."
Naturally, King's floundering broadcast worldwide.
Perfect timing for that.
King created massive gossip ammo.
Wrong direction.
Amid mockery of Benjamin King, reactions to Kang Min too.
...Awe? Slightly off-track.
King's agency screamed, mobilizing channels to bully Emmy staff into cutting cameras.
But FD differed.
"Too late? Now just stirs backlash."
"Yes, well..."
"Go ratings. Wage slave fate..."
"......"
In Korea, floor directors are AD peons; in US, stage overlords. Especially live awards/shows.
FD notified, not asked—expanded to intermission shots, even streaming other channels.
America flipped. Sweat-face laughter, then annoyance.
Emmys—year-end acting awards analog—topped trends first time.
FD/crew grinned, celebrating.
"Yes! This!"
"God! Watching, Golden Globes?"
"They won't dare again!"
But problem soon.
Kang Min wouldn't stop.
'?'
'...?'
They underestimated his rep(?).
Staff blinked this ain't right? as his pace accelerated.
"So—"
"Disagree perception unifies—"
"Back here—"
"Conversely—"
Truth: Kang Min was happy.
Orphanage 'pro yapper,' 'dean old fogey,' '60x minute time wizard'—swallowed sadness. Seen kids flee 'Please, Min-hyung! Mercy!' from chats.
But Emmy nominee different. Requested analysis first!
And dead-serious listening, no matter yapping!
"S-sorry, isn't he just zoned out...?"
"No, Ms. Lewis! Mr. King's most erudite I've met—"
"Please, I was wrong..."
"?"
Finally, beaming Lloyd/Stefan cheeks hollowed blankly.
Viewers, emcees too.
Only Kang Min happy.
"Oh, and when I first hit LA..."
Unprecedented bizarre in US awards history, let alone Emmys.
Follow-up announcement: most anticlimactic ever.
Emcee stammered, glancing.
"So, interpreting William White's love as natural and conceptual due to humanity—right?—"
"My take here—"
"...Actor Kang Min."
"Oh, opinions?"
"None—so please go accept...!"