A Veteran's Final Release
“Kang Seong-bae’s guardian?”
“Yes. That’s me.”
At the doctor’s call, Kang Seong-bae’s manager raised his hand. Beside him sat Go Kyung-min and barefoot Ha Moo-young, huddled close. They stood together and approached the doctor.
“He had a pre-existing condition, right?”
“Yes. He was undergoing outpatient treatment.”
“We almost lost him if we’d been even a little later. We’ve stabilized him with emergency care, so transfer him to his main hospital once he’s steady. It looks like he’ll need surgery right away, and this place isn’t equipped for it. Where’s the family?”
“They’re on their way from Seoul.”
“How long until they arrive?”
“About an hour and a half.”
“Handle the procedures when they get here and proceed.”
The doctor nodded at his watch.
Go Kyung-min slipped off his own shoes and handed them to Moo-young.
“Put these on for now, at least.”
“Nah, they’re dirty anyway.”
“It’s not about the dirt—it’s that you might hurt yourself. If your feet get injured, it messes up your schedule. Come on.”
Moo-young reluctantly slipped on the shoes at Go Kyung-min’s insistence.
Kang Seong-bae lay in bed, tubes snaking from his mouth like bizarre hoses. To Moo-young, who rarely set foot in hospitals, it was an alien and terrifying sight.
“Uh-uh—”
“Teacher. Are you coming around?”
Kang Seong-bae cracked his eyes open and smiled faintly. His breathing suggested a smile—what the hell? Smiling at a time like this?
Moo-young pulled a deeply frightened face and muttered. It probably just looked like a cute kid to the teacher, though.
“Teacher. Don’t smile—go back to sleep. That tube or whatever looks like it’s about to slip out.”
“Mm-hmm—”
“……Feeling a bit better?”
Moo-young leaned his upper body against the bed and asked gently. On set, the teacher had shone brighter and stronger than anyone, but lying here in a hospital room, he was just an ordinary old man. Aging could be so heartbreaking.
“F-fine.”
His pronunciation was off, but Kang Seong-bae answered clearly. He stroked Moo-young’s hair with his bony hand.
“Thanks.”
“No, it’s…… I think I ran too hard earlier. I’m sorry, Teacher.”
That moment when he’d bolted out into the street. He’d been so caught up in the joy that he’d overdone it. The director had called for it, but as a fellow actor breathing in sync, he should’ve paid more attention to his partner’s condition.
Moo-young’s eyes welled up as he apologized repeatedly.
“I’m sorry, Teacher.”
“No. It wasn’t…… because of that.”
You’re crying like a fool, kid. That’s what Kang Seong-bae’s silent smile seemed to say.
“It’s because it’s the end.”
“Huh?”
“I vowed to myself: finish this shoot perfectly, wrap it without a hitch, and I’ll have no regrets. But the second I nailed it, the tension snapped—and I collapsed.”
Thinking this might be his final role in life, he’d stayed perpetually on edge. Every day that passed safely had been a profound gratitude.
“My part’s done. So I let go.”
“What do you mean done, Teacher? We’ve got promo interviews together, the premiere, GV—all that.”
Like a spoiled grandchild, Moo-young rubbed his cheek against Kang Seong-bae’s hand. But they both knew it might be a stretch. Possible only in imagination, like running the streets with a vampire.
“Family’s on their way.”
“Thanks. If not for you, Moo-young, I might’ve gone without goodbyes.”
“Keep saying that, and I’ll doodle on your face.”
“Hahaha. Too harsh on an old man. I’m sleepy but too scared to sleep.”
Kang Seong-bae laughed, ragged breaths escaping. A brief silence fell, then he spoke calmly.
“You know I came from theater, right?”
“Yes. You’re famous for it.”
“Famous” applied mostly to fellow actors. Decades grinding in theater had left deep scars from his fierce passion.
His family suffered as much as he did. Just one film. Before he could savor the life-changing turn it brought last year, here he lay.
“I envy you, Moo-young. You’re young.”
“My body’s frail, Teacher.”
Kang Seong-bae chuckled at Moo-young’s retort.
“Youth means a long future ahead.”
The so-called masterpiece of a lifetime. He’d wanted to create one, etch his name on it, live forever through it. A natural actor’s greed—and those evaporated plays haunted him most.
“You’ve only just started, but you’re already racking up huge results. You’ll meet so many great works in your future. I envy that.”
But for him, this was it. Commercial success or personal satisfaction—it didn’t matter. He’d wanted just one work that let him say, I’m fulfilled…… But with his body like this, he might not even see the final cut.
“Teacher. What do you want?”
Reading his deepest wish, perhaps. Moo-young gripped his hand and whispered, sharing a secret only he knew.
“With this work, you’ll get everything you want.”
He didn’t mention the sparkle, but his firm voice brimmed with sincerity.
Kang Seong-bae grinned. His breaths grew rougher.
“And after eternal sleep, the world you desire awaits.”
Like the vampire strolling morning streets. Kang Seong-bae would achieve it all there.
With those words, he closed his eyes. Harsh breaths—hhhsssh, hhhsssh—as he drifted into sleep.
Moo-young lay beside him, listening to the rhythm. Soon, the teacher’s family arrived, and Go Kyung-min and Moo-young headed back to the pension in the car.
Vroom—
“How’s it going there?”
“Total chaos. They cleared the food and pulled out.”
“Just Bora and Tae-seok hyung?”
“Staff and director too. Luckily, today’s shoot wrapped, so just reshoots and ADR left. Then it’s done. Editing’s on them now.”
Moo-young stared out the window, absorbing his words. Like the teacher collapsing after releasing tension, he felt drained now that things were wrapping up.
“But how’d you know?”
“Know what?”
“That the teacher collapsed.”
Jin Lim had checked too but just thought he was napping. Moo-young, grilling meat, had dashed over, scooped him up—what a shock.
“I’ve got good instincts.”
“Yeah. Shaman-level sometimes. You scare me half to death.”
Moo-young smirked at Go Kyung-min’s words.
“Which part needs ADR? Director loves on-set recording.”
A natural, immersive sense of being present on-site was something that Director Bae prized above all else. Unless the dialogue became hopelessly muddled by intrusive ambient noise, he insisted on keeping those raw, everyday sounds in the final cut to maintain authenticity.
The film wasn’t action-heavy, and group scenes topped five people.
“They’re reviewing footage, but 85’s confirmed. Remember?”
“The set one. Phone call.”
His instant recall showed how thoroughly he’d memorized the script.
“Mic glitched then.”
“Yeah. Faulty part. They’re checking all footage using it—yours is the only issue so far. Heavy machine noise.”
“Ahh. Lots of ad-libs that time.”
It was essentially dubbing, which involved overlaying a new audio track—a process where even the slightest failure in lip-syncing would look painfully awkward and completely kill the immersive sense of being present on-site. If they were forced to redo the original ad-libs, that unique, one-shot magic they had captured would vanish forever.
Drunk-mumbling alone. Can’t even remember what I said.
Moo-young sighed, raking his hair. This was tricky!
“Wanna reshoot the whole thing.”
“Set’s dismantled. Dialogue’s short, so next Wednesday night. They’ll send the clip—practice to it.”
“Wednesday? Got it. Exactly a week.”
Practice was his only shot! Moo-young spotted Tae-seok and Bora waiting out front.
Screech!
“Yo~”
“How’s the teacher?”
“Emergency care, resting, then to Seoul hospital. Talking fine, even joked. Cleanup done?”
“Yeah. Director just left for the hospital too—gonna see him then head up. Your stuff.”
“Ah, thanks.”
Bora and Tae-seok handed over his bags as they climbed in.
Moo-young leaned toward Go Kyung-min.
“You two done with completely?”
“Yeah. Just you left.”
Three or four cuts, reshoots included. The end was nigh.
“You two’ll be hitting meetings for next projects.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Prep hard. Grabbing opportunity when it comes? That’s skill.”
“Yessir. No letting go.”
Cha Ye-sol’s handoffs weren’t small fry—all heavy hitters. Moo-young had auditions post-wrap too.
Teacher…… I wanna visit often. Hope it works out.
If possible, spend many days together. Chase off smog even if forced.
Though he’d never succeeded.
* * *
A studio in Gangnam. Sound-focused, so the vibe was calm. Walls plastered with actor and singer autographs.
“Hello, Director.”
“Good evening—!”
Entering the room, the sound director and Bae Director were munching late-night snacks. Perfect timing.
“Early? Thought night.”
“Schedule ended quick. Can I hear the effects mix?”
“Of course. Try these.”
The director passed headphones, clicking the mouse. Unshaven, stuffing food—he’d been swamped.
—Zzzt.
—Hello? Oh. It’s me. Zzzt— Hear me?
—Not that. Last time, just too drunk zzzt—
—Wasted. Yeah yeah. No. Wasn’t meaning that. Zzzt—
“My voice is in this?”
“Huh? Oops. Wrong track. Hold on.”
The static grated. The sound director chuckled apologetically.
“Barely noticeable on set, but it picked up micro. Sorry, Moo-young. Here’s the effects version.”
Background: phone set down, screen taps, other voice recorded. Just dub Moo-young’s lines over.
“Eat first?”
“Nah. I’m good. Let’s go.”
“Yeah. Short anyway.”
“Got it~”
Moo-young shed his coat, eyeing the table script. Scene numbers, check notes everywhere—but one stood out.
“Director?”
“Yeah? No hanger.”
“No, uh—66’s checked too? That’s Kang Seong-bae’s part.”
“Ah, that. Yeah.”
The director scratched his head awkwardly.
“Solo scene, just ‘Good!’ line. But motorcycle noise overlapped.”
“Teacher’s in surgery today, I heard.”
“Yeah. Could roll with it, but iffy, so held it. Start recording?”
The director wiped his mouth hastily; Moo-young entered the booth.
Small screen showed scene 85. Match the lips.
—Starting.
“Yep.”
Headphones on, Moo-young focused. Max sync—thirty minutes of the same lines.
—Break? Water.
“Sure.”
Moo-young sighed, turning—familiar face through the glass. Kang Seong-bae waving from the hall.
“Teacher……!”
Exhaustion lifted at the sight. Joy surged—but words caught.
“……Teacher?”