Hero's Historic Sweep: Four Crowns in One Night
Hooeongheong! The evening after the first day of the Mise-en-scène Short Film Festival wrapped up. People strolled through the darkened streets, chatting about the movies.
"Man, there was one real banger this time."
"Yeah, how the hell did they come up with that direction?"
Just showing up to a short film festival was proof of their love for movies, so most folks focused on direction and framing.
Then...
"Kim Donghu, though—we knew he was good, but damn, didn't expect the acting to be that level."
"It's not just good acting; it's like... he becomes the guy."
"And why's his martial arts on point like that? I heard he plays piano too."
The talk inevitably circled back to Hero.
"Hiding the brutality in black-and-white was smart; the strict black-and-white divide was intentional too."
"Private sanctions are illegal, sure, but the death-penalty-worthy scum often slip through the law's fingers."
"And it's not mutual recognition either—that's kinda funny."
"Right? They struck first, so of course he had to respond."
A true hero never strikes first. Just like in typical hero stories, the good guy doesn't preemptively hit the villain.
The hero, forged in a passive situation, earned sympathy in some ways:
"But there's a law for a reason—vigilantism isn't right. Bottom line, he's just strong enough to beat them down."
And backlash in others. A natural reaction.
In truth, Hero just posed questions without firm answers.
"But that final scene? Pure art."
"Yeah, the escape one?"
"Yep. Him fleeing out of camera view felt like running from everyone."
"Oh, that was insane. And hilarious—his face was barely visible, but that handsomeness still shone through."
The audience nodded in agreement, praising Kim Donghu's face.
"If they'd just covered his face completely, maybe we wouldn't see that killer looks, huh, Kim Donghu?"
Kim Sujin, overhearing from beside them, burst into giggles.
"...You had to come all the way here to tease me?"
Kim Donghu muttered softly in his disguise as he responded.
Even that amused her; she grinned and continued.
"Why didn't you get an invite? If you had, none of this would've happened."
"How am I supposed to swing an invite? I'm not even staff—just a lowly actor."
Lowly actor.
Kim Sujin's eyes widened a bit.
He's dead serious about that.
He wasn't clueless about his influence. It was humility.
But couldn't he brag a little at his level?
"You're big enough to call anyone!"
"Pfft, maybe your mom. Not me yet."
Pow!
Kim Sujin lightly smacked his shoulder at the response.
"Wh-what's with calling her 'mom' like that?!"
Watch your word choice! He's lost it.
She muttered to herself, startled by "mom."
He's so cute, seriously.
Kim Donghu chuckled, enjoying her reaction.
Meanwhile, Kim Donghu's fan cafe was exploding.
No official name yet, but membership was surging, marking it as one of the fastest-growing spots.
Its main purpose? Fans freely gushing over Kim Donghu.
Rumors swirled that the admin was his agency's CEO, and it lived up to the hype by delivering official news faster than anyone, quenching fan thirst.
Then, piping-hot news dropped.
Kim Donghu in a short film festival? No fan sat still.
With a week to prepare, they adjusted schedules and flocked over.
Fans chasing Kim Donghu sparked curiosity among onlookers.
"Huh? Oh, some film festival over there."
"Kim Donghu? That Haidream kid? He's in it?"
"Wanna check it out?"
"Yeah, beats being bored."
This naturally boosted promo for the festival.
Staff panicked amid the unexpected boom; the Korean Film Directors' Association chair grinned ear-to-ear.
"Keep this momentum going!"
As if his wish worked, estimated attendance hit around 20,000—double the minimum.
If only every festival pulled this off...
"Before the awards, greetings from the judges."
The Mise-en-scène Short Film Festival curtain was falling.
+++++
Thump-thump-thump.
My heart raced wildly. Even a calming pill wouldn't settle it.
Shouldn't have had that coffee...
But without it, I'd be wrecked.
Should've skipped caffeine.
Lee Sungdeok, director of Hero, muttered nonsense inwardly, unable to lift his head.
Special judge greetings, blessings from his idol—bearded Kwang Sanghoon—even success talk. Words flew, but none registered.
Glance.
He peeked at Kim Donghu, composed beside him despite the ten-year age gap.
Is stardom decided at birth?
Lee Sungdeok spun fantasies as the ceremony briskly announced winners.
"Now, for the 50,000 Punches section—Best Work goes to!"
Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap.
Applause erupted with the announcement. Lee Sungdeok had his face buried, ears plugged—no confidence to listen.
Then—
"Director, you won—go grace the stage."
Kim Donghu's clear voice jolted him up like a spring.
Awkwardly bouncing to the stage.
"Uh, um, th-thanks! Th-thank you! A-and more good films... in the fu...!"
He'd expected it somewhat, but never truly believed. Words tumbled out incoherently; next award followed immediately.
Unusual: Announced before he even stepped down.
Meaning...
Another win incoming.
"Wh-wha... buh...?"
Lee Sungdeok short-circuited.
The ceremony rolled on smoothly anyway.
Because...
Just rope in another smooth talker to share speeches.
Clap-clap-clap-clap-clap! Flash-flash-flash!
Cameras exploded with applause. Kim Donghu calmly stepped to the mic.
Three awards already?
This guy's nuts.
Handsome as hell.
Look at those proportions—face like a sculpture.
No way he sweeps Grand Prize too?
Grand Prize would make four... historic.
They won't give it.
Reporters shared thoughts as Kim Donghu's speech began.
"Thank you so much. Shooting this short taught me what movies really are. Despite my inexperience, your overwhelming love means the world..."
Short but powerful. Naming every staffer brought tears.
Lee Sungdeok sniffled quietly behind.
"...I'll work harder to become an actor worthy of this award. Thank you."
"Sniff... huuuh... th-thank yoooou..."
His speech ended. Kim Donghu escorted the teary, blinded director back up.
Hahaha!
Laughter rippled through the ceremony.
Then: Special Jury, Director, Technical awards followed.
Finally, one left: Grand Prize.
Kwang Sanghoon took the mic.
"Hello, Kwang Sanghoon here. Honored to answer Mise-en-scène's call."
Now, straight to Grand Prize.
His crisp style drew laughs—and glances at one spot.
Everyone knew the winner.
"Hooeongheong!"
Fragile Lee Sungdeok burst into sobs on the spot.
You fool!
Kwang Sanghoon's gaze burned at him.
A weakling like you dares film our Donghu first...!
Lucky he did it well. Otherwise, he'd have stormed over for a word.
Thud-thud.
Kim Donghu supported him back onstage. No proper speech—Kim Donghu even translated his mumbles.
The mood ended in total warmth.
"This concludes the Mise-en-scène Short Film Festival awards. Thanks to all participants."
Clean close. As folks dispersed for afterparties...
"Donghu! Congrats!"
Kwang Sanghoon rushed to Kim Donghu.
"Thank you. I'll strive to match the award."
"Aish! Even your words are pretty! Was gonna call, but we meet here."
"Pardon?"
"Endless Frontline preview screening prep, right?"
Time flew. Kim Donghu nodded.
"With Hero killing it, our film's getting a boost."
Actors' success lifts their projects.
"...I see."
Wait—could Endless Frontline's rating rise?
How successful would it be? Curiosity about its performance hit.
+++++
That evening after the festival...
Unlike teary, partying Lee Sungdeok...
The internet was on fire.