The Most Idiotic Death in the World
1.
Sometimes, life hands you strange things.
Like how a fleeting childhood connection turns out to have become some unbelievable heavyweight — a star dazzling televisions and setting the whole world ablaze.
Think that never happens in real life? Well, it happened to me.
When I was little, there was a girl who lived next door.
Same age, and our parents got along so well that we naturally ended up spending most of our time together.
"Read me a book."
"…Read it yourself."
"No!"
Seo Yu-rin.
She was sunshine itself — warm and familiar with absolutely everyone.
By now, well into my mid-twenties, I shouldn't remember much from those days. And yet, for some reason, that era had burned itself into me with startling clarity.
The reason was just one thing: that little munchkin Seo Yu-rin had been absurdly, unreasonably beautiful from the age of four.
I remember thinking back then — this girl, no matter what life she lived, was destined to stand in front of a camera. Someday I'd see her on a screen, whether as an idol, an actress, a celebrity — something, anything.
And my prediction had come true.
On set, a junior colleague dropped a hand on my shoulder.
"Huaaamm… Hey, hyung. Whatcha watching? If Director Shi catches you slacking off mid-shift, he'll bash your head in."
"He told me to watch it."
"Oh, it's Seo Yu-rin. Gorgeous, isn't she~? Isn't today the premiere of her Hollywood lead role?"
"Yeah. The first Asian ever to headline one."
"Wasn't the release date tomorrow? Did you book tickets?"
"We're shooting tomorrow, Yeon-jin."
"…Then the day after?"
"The schedule's packed solid for three weeks, so wake up and brace yourself for at least a month. You know how Director Shi is, don't you?"
I turned on the channel broadcasting Seo Yu-rin's press junket for the Hollywood shoot and her impressions of the premiere.
The other international actors hadn't attended, but honestly, they weren't needed.
First Korean to ever lead a Hollywood film.
That title alone meant she already filled the entire room with her presence.
There was one odd thing, though.
These events were normally held indoors — but Seo Yu-rin was giving her interview on the rooftop of some building.
"Huh? Isn't that a broadcast station rooftop?"
"Right? The filming crew should've given us a heads-up if something like this was happening."
"The PR team probably blocked it. If word had gotten out beforehand that Seo Yu-rin was shooting on a rooftop, half the building would've pretended not to know and gone up anyway. Besides, we're outsiders here to begin with."
"Work together and you're colleagues, I guess. Broadcast station folks love drawing those lines."
"It's Director Shi's joint production. They have to manage it."
I stared up at the ceiling.
A few floors above me, Seo Yu-rin was right there.
But I had no real desire to go see her. If I tried, the company would make an example out of me.
All the more so since we belonged not to KES, but to Director Shi's own camp. We were only here because KES and Director Shi were collaborating on this project — otherwise I'd be back at the university lab.
I'd like to see her in person again, after all this time…
I'd been in this industry long enough that spotting celebrities and actors was nothing new. If fate willed it, we'd cross paths eventually.
Come to think of it… would she even remember me?
Probably not, I figured.
And even if we did meet, it would probably just be awkward — like strangers.
"Seo Yu-rin is as beautiful as ever… By the way, of all her films, I love that period drama one the most."
"Really? I don't watch Seo Yu-rin movies."
"What?! Why?! Wait, if you haven't seen all of her films, does that mean you've missed every single ten-million-ticket blockbuster?!"
"Yep."
"Why on earth?!"
I kept my mouth shut about the reason.
How am I supposed to say her acting looks a little stiff?
The acting of ten-million-star Seo Yu-rin, stiff.
Or more precisely — she could clearly do better, and something about it always fell short, and that gap made it unbearable to watch. If I said that out loud, I'd be branded a contrarian hipster with an inflated sense of taste, or just a pure and simple idiot.
But to me, it looks like a robot performing.
Every single time, her acting hit me with that eerie chill of the uncanny valley — but what could I do about it?
A performer who pours emotion into every gesture.
A performer who pours hope into her acting.
A performer whose smile leaves you aching to know what comes next.
All of it was the verdict one famously venomous foreign critic had passed on her work.
Dare to criticize the actress who had even the most toxic, most merciless critic in the world eating out of her hand? I didn't have the guts.
[Ms. Seo Yu-rin, how was the Hollywood shoot?]
[Rumors broke during this Hollywood production that you and actor Chris are dating. Is it true?]
[Is there anything about this film you're personally looking forward to?]
The reporters fired off question after question at her.
[Yaaawn.]
Seo Yu-rin dismissed every single question with a single yawn, wandering idly around the rooftop.
"…Is she always like this?"
"She's sort of famous for her antics. That's just Seo Yu-rin being Seo Yu-rin."
"She's like this normally?"
Sitting down on a bench, then springing up again. Plucking petals off the garden flowers one by one and scattering them to the wind. Picking up bits of stone and skipping them across the ground.
Amid the endless parade of incomprehensible behavior, the reporters simply laughed and waited her out.
…Something was wrong.
"…Is it just me, or is this giving anyone chills?"
"Sorry? Seo Yu-rin?"
"It feels like something's about to happen…"
"Hyung, have you been sleeping okay lately?"
You don't feel it? Am I the one who's broken?
A sensation like my blood running cold washed over me, and then Seo Yu-rin spoke.
[Everyone.]
Seo Yu-rin smiled.
That smile everyone called an angel's — but today, somehow, it sent a shiver down my spine.
Seo Yu-rin spread her arms wide.
[Is the world beautiful?]
[Is your world still shimmering with a thousand colors, even now?]
What came back to her question was only more of her own questions.
Seo Yu-rin swept her hand across the wide-open panorama of Seoul. The camera, bewitched, framed her.
From the dense forest of steel and concrete stretching into the distance, to the mountains and sky — she stood at the very center of it all.
The Han River glinted brilliantly, shattering the sunlight into a thousand shards of blue.
I turned my head toward the window outside, and there was a view much like the Seoul the camera was capturing.
One of the reporters answered her.
[Seoul, glittering with a thousand colors… it's a beautiful sight.]
[Ahaha. Is that so?]
Seo Yu-rin licked her lips.
A bewitching, beautiful smile.
[I'm jealous.]
A chill crawled up my spine.
It was unmistakably a beautiful smile — but what lived inside it was cold enough to frost over.
[Because to my eyes, this world looks gray. Mercilessly, utterly gray.]
[I'm sorry?]
[You probably won't understand. Do you know?]
Seo Yu-rin shaped her hand into a pistol and pressed it to her own temple.
[That if it's for the sake of acting, I could truly give up my life.]
[Do you know the despair of watching your emotions wither the more you perform — until you can no longer even smile?]
Once more, that beautiful smile bloomed.
In that instant, a strange sensation seized my heart, as if a fist had closed around it.
"What is this, some kind of music video? It's definitely not her usual self."
"How would I know? One thing's for sure — she's not okay."
I answered calmly, but something felt deeply wrong.
My breath was catching. My heart was hammering like it had gone mad.
A bead of cold sweat, trickling down my cheek in the air-conditioned chill, dropped — plop — into the coffee cup I'd been drinking from.
It felt like my blood was freezing solid.
[Ms. Seo Yu-rin! It's dangerous! Come down from there!]
[Truly. Truly.]
[Ms. Seo Yu-rin!]
[I could give everything. All of it.]
By now, Seo Yu-rin was standing precariously balanced on top of the railing itself.
One tiny slip, and she would fall to the ground at any moment — it was that kind of peril.
And yet her expression was serene.
It wasn't detachment from death.
It was simply that she felt nothing at all — yes. Just as she'd said, Seo Yu-rin was broken.
"Damn it."
With a curse, I shot up from my seat.
"Hyung? Where are you going?!"
"The rooftop. If Director Shi asks, tell him I went to take a dump. Or just say I quit."
"Hyung?! Hyung!"
The moment I bolted for the rooftop —
Words I was never meant to hear came through my phone.
[I'm tired of explaining myself. You were never going to understand me anyway.]
[Once upon a time, I think there was someone who did understand me.]
[But the years passed, and now I can't even remember who.]
[I have no feelings left to draw on. I can't act anymore.]
[…A life where I can't act. What meaning could it possibly have?]
I kicked the rooftop door open with everything I had.
"Seo Yu-rin!"
"…Ah."
With countless cameras trained on us, my eyes met Seo Yu-rin's where she stood on the railing.
For some reason, she smiled — a sorrowful smile.
"…Of course. It's already far too late."
"Step back, Ms. Seo Yu-rin."
"I was too late to be certain. You were my… no. At this point, none of it means anything anymore. Too late. Far too late. I should have torn the whole world apart to find you."
Seo Yu-rin winked.
She was rambling about things I couldn't begin to understand.
Was she truly broken somewhere, just as she said?
"You — of all people, it's you I never wanted to see me like this."
"Seo Yu-rin!!"
"If there's a next time, let's be together then. My—"
That was the moment I learned I could run faster than I'd ever imagined.
I ran with everything in me, but dozens of steps were never enough to beat a single one.
Seo Yu-rin vanished from my sight in an instant.
"SEO YU-RIN!!!!!!!"
I looked down — and there she was, falling toward the ground.
I flung out my arm at the last possible sliver of a chance and caught her hand.
"Got—"
And that was the moment.
"Huh?"
Thud—
With a sensation like my heart suddenly stopping, all the strength drained from the arm I had stretched out over the railing.
In a blink the world spun, and along with that brilliant blue sky, a dizzying weightlessness crashed over me.
Oh, come on. The guy who tried to stop a suicide falls right along with her?
What kind of idiotic death was this supposed to be?
Before I knew it, I had wrapped my arms around Seo Yu-rin.
"UWAAAAAAAAAH!!!!"
"I was planning to die alone. Sorry about that?"
"No, this is what I get for sticking my nose in — UWAAAAAAAAAH!!!!"
"…If only. If only we had met just a little bit sooner."
The ground was rushing closer.
Death was rushing closer.
And still, Seo Yu-rin looked utterly at peace. Not a trace of regret for any of this showed on her face.
She took my face in her hands. Her expression was blank — desolately, terribly blank.
"I'm sorry. I can't even remember your name anymore. The thing I spent my whole life searching for — I know now. It must have been you."
"What are you—"
"This is my final performance."
Seo Yu-rin smiled brightly.
"There's no way it's true, but if we happen to get another life—"
In that instant, a smile so radiant it erased everything around us — a smile like the sun itself.
"Please, no matter what happens—"
Her acting had always troubled me somehow, but this smile — the moment I saw it, it stole the breath right out of my lungs.
"—don't leave my side."
And with a smile beautiful enough to make me forget I was dying, my consciousness faded to black.