Festival
“Moo-young! You're here again today?”
“Hello!”
Even without a shoot scheduled, Moo-young showed up on set whenever he could. It was his starring role, the project he'd poured everything into. Plus, hanging around always turned out to be surprisingly useful.
“Want me to grab that for you?”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Hey, Moo-young. Sorry, but could you help with this too?”
“Sure thing! Whoa, it's pretty heavy, huh?”
He lent a hand to the staff handling the grunt work—or
“Moo-young, could you take a quick look at these lines?”
—he helped the actors stay immersed in their emotions or run lines.
At Kang Seong-bae's call, Moo-young grinned readily.
“It's getting hotter out these days, sir.”
“It sure is. Summer's here. How's school?”
“Going great. There's a festival today, so I could make it since we wrapped the morning shoot. I'll probably head over after your scene.”
“Ah, youth. Sounds fun.”
Kang Seong-bae chuckled as he held up the script.
Today's shoot featured just one veteran actor amid a bunch of bit players and extras. With it being the weekend, even the staff was light.
“Which part should I read?”
“Scene 85, second line.”
“Ah, I thought this one looked tough right away. Not an easy line to deliver, right?”
Moo-young and Kang Seong-bae sat on the prop bench, trading lines. The old man's voice carried real power. His solid projection and unwavering gaze—how did someone so frail transform like that once the acting started?
“-Gimme a smoke at least.”
“Pay your tab first.”
After running through two pages back-to-back, Kang Seong-bae reached for water like his throat was parched. Moo-young unscrewed the cap neatly and handed it over. The veteran grinned, his expression saying, that kid's got it together.
“You're not like kids these days, Moo-young.”
“I hear that a lot, weirdly enough.”
He flashed a bright smile. Kang Seong-bae murmured, lost in old memories.
“Hard to find someone this diligent. Acting's all about chemistry between people, but these young actors seem scared of real bonds.”
The ice in the water bottle clinked.
Moo-young listened attentively, savoring the elder's words. Maybe because he had no grandparents, he loved hearing them out.
“Guess the vibe's just like that.”
“Yep. Part of society's flow, I suppose, but still a shame.”
“Once you connect, it's golden. You'll cross paths again and again in this business.”
“Acting suits you, huh?”
“Love it. My dream's to keep at it like you, sir.”
As they chatted amiably, the standby call came. Moo-young clenched his fists in encouragement.
“You've got this, sir! Fighting!”
“Haha. Fighting.”
The gaunt man stood on the roadside. Moo-young crouched by the camera corner, watching intently. The master's acting always sparked new insights.
“The nerve! What do you take me for? Five thousand won!”
“What else? You're just a broke old bum who can't pay up!”
The exchange with the bit player dragged on. As Moo-young thought about heading to school and started to rise—
“Huh?”
Something familiar flickered in his peripheral vision. Black smog billowing from Kang Seong-bae's back.
Moo-young's eyes widened, words failing him.
“That's...”
A shape he'd never seen. The smog split into two prongs like wings, stretching skyward—like a black angel's.
“Moo-young? You okay?”
A staffer holding a cable whispered. Everyone else focused on the intense performance, but only Moo-young saw the ashen haze.
“...Nah, nothing.”
The smog dispersed like windblown dust, and the take wrapped smoothly. At the director's OK, Kang Seong-bae called for water again.
“Didn't you say school, Moo-young?”
“Yeah. Heading out now, sir.”
“Hm?”
He handed the bottle to his manager, smiling curiously. After a moment's hesitation, Moo-young asked carefully.
“Feeling okay anywhere?”
Black smog. But wing-shaped, vanishing quick. All unfamiliar, yet instinct tugged at him.
“Nothing major. At my age, finding spots that don't hurt is harder. Why? Something off in my take?”
Kang Seong-bae paused slightly before answering, his tone oddly evasive. Moo-young shook his head with a smile.
“No, what do you mean?”
“Sir, mind checking the monitor?”
“Sure. See you later, Moo-young.”
“Yeah! I'll head out first. Great work, everyone!”
Moo-young bowed deeply to Kang Seong-bae and the crew, then headed to the parking lot.
Tap-tap.
“Gah!”
He woke the snoring Go Kyung-min, then slid into the front seat. The manager wiped drool and asked.
“How was the vibe? Straight to school?”
“Good. Same as always. Sir's acting was flawless.”
“Then why the long face?”
Go Kyung-min glanced over as he drove, but no reply came.
The smog's meaning. The veteran's odd words. Moo-young just groaned, forehead against the cool window.
* * *
“Three more kimchi pancakes!”
“Hyung, eggs are running low.”
“Yo, where's the cash box?”
“Treasurer took it for mid-shift settlement.”
Seoyeondae University's festival was one of the biggest around. The massive scale drew not just student stalls but food carts from nearby merchants.
The department rep and president checked the time anxiously.
“Why's he taking so long?”
“Yeah, he said he was on the way.”
The reason for their fidgeting—
“This is Ha Moo-young's department, right?”
“Where's Ha Moo-young, though?”
“What? He's not here?”
They'd hyped it hard with his name. He'd promised to help, so why the delay?!
“Let's bail.”
“He said he'd come if we post on SNS?”
“Should've gone to business dept. Their food's legit good.”
“Hit lit dept after pics. You know, full of hotties.”
The morning rush for him had exploded, but now it was dying down. At this rate, they'd blow not just student fees but the inter-dept sales crown.
“Yoo-hoo—!”
Far off, a tall guy waved.
“Ha Moo-young!”
“Sorry, I'm late?”
Even from afar, he sparkled, class oozing off him. The rep and prez welcomed their savior joyfully.
“Late? Perfect timing!”
“Kyaa! Moo-young sunbae’s here!”
“Hi, sunbae!”
“Hey hey! So, what should I do? Flip pancakes? Or dough? I'm decent with food.”
Moo-young rolled up his sleeves, hunting for an apron. The rep grinned meaningfully, grabbing his hands.
“Why waste premium talent on flipping?”
“Huh? Then?”
“Change into this.”
Moo-young took the paper bag. Rustling black fabric. What was this? But they hustled him to the bathroom.
“Wha...”
No-Face. Black cloth over his head, face poking out round. Seeing him suited up, everyone clapped in approval.
“Perfect! Focuses on that handsome face—optimal cosplay!”
“No—”
“Max efficiency at min cost!”
“Hey?”
“Just wander nearby with this. Slow, floaty-like. Please.”
Before he could protest, the rep shoved a menu signboard into his hands.
No hassle was nice, but was this right? He'd come to flip pancakes?
“Whoa, it's Ha Moo-young.”
People spotted him hovering awkwardly right away. He shot the rep a sheepish look.
Really?
For top sales, bro.
The school's top sales prize came with a scholarship for one student, plus naming rights for regular donors. And prime seats at stage events.
“Sunbae, please.”
“Pretty please.”
Freshmen clasped hands in plea. No choice. Moo-young cleared his throat, T-Rex-ing his arms.
“Ah— ahh—”
“It's Ha Moo-young, right?”
“Ahh—”
“Puhahaha! What is this?!”
“Ha Moo-young's here! Photo please!”
The response exploded the crowd. Phones out, papers for autographs—tons.
“Line up—!”
A student in hanbok yelled, organizing the queue. The mob naturally boosted orders, coupons piling in the box.
“Moo-young oppa! Say my name!”
“Ahh—”
“Kyaa! So cute! Pic okay, oppa?”
“You cheats! Stealing Ha Moo-young like that, lit dept bastards!”
“Bring your own celeb then~”
Neighboring booths boomed too, but distant ones cleared out. The surge was insane, choking the air.
“Line up—!”
The self-appointed safety underclassman bellowed louder.
“Kimchi pancake and tteokbokki!”
“Slush makgeolli too.”
“To go? Ten thousand won!”
“Fritters here!”
Ahh— Moo-young hammed up No-Face pointlessly. Talent wasted, right here. He kept hawking till ingredients ran dry.
“Eat hereee— ahh—”
“Haha! No-Face talks!”
“Sunbae! Last bowl!”
“More supplies! Hurry!”
Sales raged till sunset. They restocked twice before the 7 PM cutoff.
Sweat-drenched Moo-young yanked off the cloth, exhaling hard.
“Phew! Done!”
“Great job, Moo-young!”
“How'd we do?”
He shook out his wet hair. Rep and prez grinned ear-to-ear.
Record-breaking. Dept history and all-time festival high.
“Three hundred.”
“In one day? Three hundred? What margins you crooks hitting.”
“Business boomed, bro. We're champs this year! Woo-ha!”
“Yes!”
Cheers and chugs of cold water. Now, brutal cleanup and fireworks finale show.
As Moo-young grabbed a rag, they stopped him.
“Nah, come with.”
“Huh? Why? Cleanup—”
“Sunbae! Hurry!”
They shoved him along. Open plaza before the student center—campus crossroads, max foot traffic.
“Huh?”
A massive banner hung center-stage. Moo-young's beaming smile with “Congrats on Baeksang Rookie Award, Seoyeondae's Pride Ha Moo-young!”
“Seoyeondae's star Ha Moo-young? Haha, what!”
“Like it? We shelled out ourselves. Cute, right?”
Moo-young stood awed, flashing teeth and V-sign max.
“Pic me!”
“OK!”
Click! Friends circled like paparazzi, shutters flying.
Moo-young leaned happily against it. Then—
Whoosh—! Boom! Boom!
“Huh? Show starting?”
“C'mon!”
He dashed after his friends. Pure joy and bliss he'd never known. Emotions like this exist too.
Bzzz— bzzz—
“Let's go!”
Chasing them, he missed the director's call.