Microcosm
"Ah, Ju-hyeong."
"We're classmates, but this is actually the first time we've run into each other on campus. Haha."
Yeon-woo smiled at Kim Ju-hyeong's words.
"You're right. But how did you know it was me?"
He tilted his head, watching Ju-hyeong stroll up and throw an arm around his shoulders even though he was wearing a cap and a mask.
"You don't know?"
"Huh?"
"A hat and a mask don't erase an aura. Even from a hundred meters away, that self-assertive frame and those proportions scream 'actor.'"
Ju-hyeong jerked his chin toward the rear. Far off, a cluster of students was murmuring, casting uncertain glances at Yeon-woo.
"Ah… is that so?"
It hadn't been a perfect disguise, but he had assumed no one on campus would recognize him. Apparently he had been wrong.
"Anyway, the posters are up. The University Theater Festival."
"Yeah. First I've heard of it. Have they always done something like that?"
"It's been a tradition for about ten years, I think."
Yeon-woo nodded. If the festival was only a decade old, it made sense that he — who had finished campus life more than twenty years ago — would never have heard of it.
"I'm thinking of entering, too. Have to get through the preliminaries first, though."
"Huh?"
The unexpected remark made Yeon-woo ask again. Ju-hyeong's face flushed slightly as he continued, looking a little embarrassed.
"You know… last year, the day Yu-han came to deliver lunchboxes. Watching the two of you perform on that stage lit a fire under me."
Yeon-woo nodded, recalling the sudden invitation that had put him on the practice stage of Deyandor. Then he tilted his head again.
"…So, as an actor?"
He knew Ju-hyeong loved acting. Imagining him actually performing, though, was another matter entirely.
Ju-hyeong waved both hands in a frantic denial.
"No, no — I'm not the one acting. Um… I've actually been trying my hand at writing. A scenario, I mean."
The words brought to mind Kim Jin-ju, locked in a conference room and pouring out the script for White Blood on a wave of inspiration.
"So you've got that kind of talent, Ju-hyeong."
"Nah, talent's a stretch. I just gave it a shot."
"Want to grab a café and talk about it?"
"Aren't you busy?"
Yeon-woo smiled at the question.
"Nothing pressing. The film's wrapped, and I've got to get ready for the semester. Since we ran into each other, I might as well learn a few things from you."
How to register for classes online, for one. The campus itself was familiar, but the curriculum and the era had changed so much that almost everything was new to him.
They settled into a campus café beside the College of Business building.
"Do you have the scenario on you? I'm kind of curious."
"It's embarrassing to show anyone. The seniors in the theater club said it was completely terrible."
Yeon-woo nodded.
"There's a theater club on campus, too?"
"Yeah. Most of them do it as a hobby, but the rules are surprisingly strict."
Hesitating, Ju-hyeong pulled a bound script from his bag.
"Oh, you even had it bound?"
"I was going to show the seniors. Got thoroughly torn apart, though."
He scratched the back of his head and handed the scenario over. Looking at how dejected he was, the criticism must have been brutal.
Yeon-woo began to read.
"…It might not be that entertaining, but the genre is mystery-thriller."
Yeon-woo nodded quietly at the added remark.
After a long stretch of reading, he lifted his head.
"…This is good."
"Come on. Thanks for saying so, even if it's just to be nice."
It wasn't empty praise. The scenario was solid, and simply reading it conjured the shape of a stage production in his mind.
"I mean it, Ju-hyeong. You've got talent."
"Huh? Really? That can't be right… Everyone said it was bad."
Faced with Yeon-woo's serious expression, Ju-hyeong grew serious himself.
"Is there an empty lecture hall with an open door?"
"An empty lecture hall? Classes haven't started yet, so every room in the business building should be unlocked."
Yeon-woo rose from his seat.
"Let's go. I'll show you."
"Show me what?"
He meant to show a discouraged genius that his writing shone more than enough. Ju-hyeong followed, still puzzled, as Yeon-woo took the lead.
"How do you even know this back path?"
He trailed after Yeon-woo, who strode naturally along a shortcut from the café to the business building.
On the second floor, Yeon-woo opened the door to Lecture Hall 203, a room with a fairly high platform.
"This should work."
"For what?"
"Your piece. Just one scene, but I'll act it out."
Ju-hyeong's eyes went wide.
"Whoa — for real?!"
Yeon-woo grinned and climbed onto the platform.
"Playwright Kim Ju-hyeong, take a seat right up front."
"Oh man, this is insane!"
Buzzing with excitement, Ju-hyeong dropped into a front-row seat. Yeon-woo skimmed the scenario, flicked his hand a few times as if sketching something out, nodded once, and spoke.
"I'll do one scene."
In front of Ju-hyeong's bright, expectant eyes, Yeon-woo began to perform.
In an instant his face went cold. He furrowed his brow and lifted one corner of his mouth.
"People, you see, are born with a color of their own. Some burn with passionate red. Others are a cynical blue."
He spread his arms lightly. Then came a delivery that seemed to stitch together syllables cut off with a chill, one after another.
"What color do I look like to you? People like me are a little special. I'm black."
The furrowed brow and the hair-raising curl of his lip both reset, settling into an expression so blank it held no emotion at all.
Watching Yeon-woo's voice and face shift at will, Ju-hyeong felt goosebumps cascade down his arms.
"People who are black are a little special. They have an instinct to hide that they're black. They keep searching for people who will tell them they're gray. And once a few of those gather, things get messy."
The blank face transformed in a heartbeat into a brilliantly smiling one. Smile too brightly and it tips into madness — and that was exactly the look on Yeon-woo's face now.
"When the black and the gray start gathering, at some point they start insisting they're white. Just like you are right now. So I'm happy. I've found a pitch-black tumor."
Something invisible seemed to ripple around Ryu Yeon-woo on the platform. Then he strode forward.
"Ugh—"
Even though it was his own script, Ju-hyeong's heart clenched under the raw madness radiating from the stage.
Before he knew it, Yeon-woo's face had returned to normal.
"Well? That's the script you wrote."
It was. Every line of dialogue, every described expression — it was all his.
"Y-yeah. It is."
In that moment, Ju-hyeong understood. A scenario could become coal or diamond depending on who performed it. A lump of carbon, under different conditions and different pressures, could turn into either. The actor standing in front of him — Ryu Yeon-woo — was unmistakably someone who made diamonds.
If I become a playwright… will I get to experience this all the time?
The combination of letters he had put on the page seemed to live and breathe right before his eyes.
"Yeon-woo, I've loved every movie and drama you've been in — but I really wish you'd do a stage play someday."
It was the sincere wish of a fan before it was the wish of a friend. There was an overwhelming force that only came from facing living, breathing performance up close.
Yeon-woo smiled. He had been a longtime theater devotee since his previous life.
"Then let's do it. Your piece is good. We'll use this."
"Yeah, definitely— wait, what?"
Nodding along in anticipation of Yeon-woo's stage work, Ju-hyeong registered the odd phrasing and his eyes flew open.
"Whaaaat?!"
Yeon-woo gave a short laugh. He hadn't tossed the idea out casually. As far as he could see, the piece had real value.
"We'll lay the groundwork this semester. I've got a series lined up to shoot — once that wrap is done, let's mount the play late this year or early next."
It was a realistically achievable plan. In his mind, Yeon-woo pictured his acting mentor, Jeong Cheol-min. There was the small theater Cheol-min ran in Daejeon, and if they needed to stage it in Seoul, the infrastructure to make the connections was already in place. There were academy actors and instructors as well — and with Yeon-woo's name recognition now, those pieces could be solved even without leaning on that help.
But for the amateur Kim Ju-hyeong, the sudden acceleration of a scenario he had merely scribbled left him too dazed to keep up with the tempo.
"S-so you're saying we should actually stage this…? Come on, stop joking."
"You never planned to perform this scenario?"
"Huh? No, that's not it…"
Of course every theater scenario is written with actual performance in mind. Ju-hyeong, too, had been burning with curiosity about how his script would take shape on a real stage.
"Polish it a little more in the meantime. Let's put on a fun play, just between us."
Watching Yeon-woo smile as he handed back the bound scenario, Ju-hyeong caught fire.
"Uwaaah! I'll trade this semester's grades if I have to — I'll pour my soul into finishing it!"
"…Uh? You still need to study, though."
Faced with a Ju-hyeong burning even hotter than expected, Yeon-woo broke into a cold sweat.
Roughly two months had passed since Yeon-woo began university life.
He devoted himself to his studies during the semester, of course — but with the nation's brightest gathered in one place, matching the top-tier grades he had earned in high school was simply out of reach.
"Hyung, you've got schedules in between classes and everything. How do you even keep up with the material?"
As soon as class ended, first-year students clustered around Yeon-woo's seat. Some had come in after a year or two of retakes, but most were current students a year younger than him.
"More than that, I'm still amazed that Professor Kim Tae-gyeong likes Oppa so much."
"Come on — he's a famous actor. Even a professor with a reputation for being difficult has to cut him some slack."
Yu Su-jin shook her head at that.
"I heard from the seniors that from the day Oppa enrolled, the professor was saying all kinds of nasty things about him. Even during class."
"Really? Did you know about that, hyung?"
Yeon-woo smiled and shook his head.
"No. He's a warm-hearted, good person. If any of you like bands, go talk to him first. He loves rock bands."
"Huh? Rock bands? He looks like the type who wouldn't bleed if you stabbed him."
Yeon-woo packed up and stood; the underclassmen around him rose as well.
"Sunbae, do you have lunch plans?"
"Dude, you're so obvious. If you eat lunch with Yeon-woo-hyung, you'll get photographed as a fox flirting with him and the post will hit the school Anytime board before you finish the meal."
"So what? Then we all eat together."
They spilled out of the lecture hall in a noisy cluster — and found Manager Kim Min-su waiting by the door.
"Actor."
"Ah, Min-su-hyung. Sorry, guys — lunch will have to be another time."
"Aww… okay."
He said goodbye to the underclassmen and walked over to Min-su.
"What's going on, Min-su-hyung? Did I have a schedule today?"
"Not a schedule. The set is finished."
"Is that so. Finally complete."
Yeon-woo's eyes lit up. Construction on the set for his next project, White Blood, had begun the moment the scenario was finished. He was eager to see whether it had been realized the way he had imagined it from the script.
"What about the directors and the writer?"
"They left about an hour ago, so they should be arriving soon."
"Then we'd better hurry over ourselves."
Yeon-woo climbed into Min-su's car, parked in front of the business building. The car headed for the Microcosm that had been built in Paju.