Farewell, Why Is Teacher Here?
Ha Moo-young's unusually grim expression caught Go Kyung-min's eye, and the manager snatched up the mic.
"Moo-young-ah? You okay?"
The director, who had been heading out for water, froze and turned back.
Moo-young was plastered right against the booth's glass wall, rubbing his eyes.
"Uh......"
"Huh?"
The director and manager followed his gaze. But what? Nothing there?
"Uh, ice water, please."
"Ah, yeah. Sure. It's pretty stuffy in there, right?"
"Yeah. It is."
Nothing serious after all. The director smiled brightly and opened the door. That's when Kang Seong-bae, standing in the hallway, slipped right through the gap.
Aigoo. What in the world.
Moo-young covered his face with his hands, plunging into mental chaos.
Oblivious to his turmoil, Kang Seong-bae stuck his hand straight through the glass door and chuckled heartily.
"No need to wait for the door to open!"
With a smooth whoosh, he passed right through the wall into the booth.
Moo-young, slumped on the floor, peered up at him through his fingers.
"Haa. Teacher. Why are you here?"
He whispered so softly the manager couldn't hear.
Kang Seong-bae dragged over a chair and sat, shoulders shaking with laughter.
"That's just how it turned out!"
So simple, yet so heartbreaking.
Moo-young swallowed back the tears welling up and asked, "Did it hurt a lot?"
"I was fine. Just a surgical mishap. Anyway, Moo-young. You really are special. I followed that sparkling light, and here you were. Heh heh heh."
Followed the light. Moo-young had never heard that one before. He'd never chatted back and forth with ghosts like this either.
"Light? Like flower pollen or something?"
"Exactly. Flower pollen. Spot on."
Moo-young stared blankly into the teacher's eyes. Opacity 95%. He looked just as ghostly as ever—indistinguishable from a person at a glance. Maybe that's why Moo-young held back his tears.
"You can see it too?"
"Huh? Me?"
"It's swirling everywhere right now."
No sooner had he spoken than flecks of flower pollen glittered through the booth's air.
This was...... Moo-young's, but also the teacher's.
Caught off guard by the suddenness, Moo-young flailed his hands in confusion.
"Anyway, you can see this stuff too, right, Teacher?"
"Yep. I thought it was the road to the afterlife, but apparently not. A supernatural phenomenon only the dead can see."
Come to think of it, during Plague's shoot, a grab ghost had spotted the ceiling smog and helped out.
Did I die and come back to life too? Or since I'm living characters' lives through acting, is the real Ha Moo-young basically dead?
Theories swirled chaotically through his mind.
Befuddled by it all, Moo-young felt the teacher pat his shoulder with a tsk-tsk.
"Dunno what it is, but one thing's clear instinctively. Looks like I've got unfinished business here."
"......Unfinished business?"
His words jogged Moo-young's memory of the paper on the director's scribble-covered table.
The teacher's ADR!
"The director was wondering about redoing take 66."
"Ah, the motorcycle noise got in there, right? I remember."
Kang Seong-bae snapped his fingers knowingly. No matter how you looked at him, he fit right in. His deep hue made him indistinguishable from a living person.
Moo-young sighed and asked, "But how are you gonna do the recording?"
"Hmm. Mind giving me a hand?"
"How could I do it alone without you......"
Kang Seong-bae leaned in and whispered some absurd hack into Moo-young's ear. The wisdom of age, perhaps.
"Say you're doing a voice impression."
"Nah, Teacher. That's a bit much."
"What's the harm? Just one line."
"Great!"
The teacher grabbed Moo-young's hand pleadingly, eyes sparkling like do it, do it now!
"Great!"
A stranger's voice tumbled from Moo-young's mouth. He clapped a hand over it in shock.
Kang Seong-bae laughed nonstop, patting his back.
"Nailed it!"
"Teacher, forgive me, but is this really your first time as a ghost? How'd you know?"
Physical contact let him channel the voice like possession, if he willed it.
Moo-young eyed him suspiciously, but the teacher just shrugged.
"Instinct. Pretty great, huh?"
Click.
"Moo-young-ah. Here's the ice water."
The door opened, and Go Kyung-min held out a cup. He tilted his head at Moo-young huddled in the corner.
"Something wrong?"
"Huh? No. Just comfy like this."
"Floor's dirty. Sit in the chair."
The teacher's in the chair.
Moo-young brushed off his butt, stood, and took the cup.
"Think I can jump back in right away."
"Yeah. Got it."
Moo-young sheepishly slipped the headset back on and glanced behind him.
Don't mind me—do your thing! The look said it all without words.
The director's voice came through.
"Starting up."
"......Yeah. Here goes."
Back to the endless loop. His tongue was tangling from repetition.
Watching quietly, Kang Seong-bae slowly clapped a rhythm.
"Not quite. Pause here, one, two!"
"......Yeah, no. That's not what I meant."
Experience was undeniable. Decades of theater and thousands of performances had honed his instinct for rote delivery.
OK sign immediately.
"Ooh! Perfect. Moo-young-ah. That's it. Good work."
"Thanks. You too."
As he reached to remove the headset, Moo-young couldn't tear himself away, worried about the teacher.
He opened the booth door and asked, "Director. Take 66."
"Huh? Teacher Kang's part?"
"Yeah. How about I give it a shot......?"
The three men gawked at him like he'd lost his mind. This wasn't a variety show talent segment—this was a film. A serious work.
"Moo-young-ah?"
Go Kyung-min blocked his path, eyes smiling but screaming don't say dumb shit, let's go home.
But Moo-young peeked past his shoulder and pressed on.
"......Teacher had surgery, so he might not be up for it. Depending on the situation. So, a backup sample couldn't hurt. I'm really good at this."
"No. It's still just a voice impression, Moo-young-ah."
Please. Shut up already~ Go Kyung-min blinked desperately.
The sound director, chewing gum, chuckled and glanced at Director Bae. Who looked equally awkward.
"Wanna hear it?"
Moo-young cleared his throat and lightly swept his left hand back. A chill tingled at his fingertips—the teacher's soul's touch.
"Great!"
"Great!"
Short and punchy, just one line. The sound director stopped chewing.
"What was that?"
"Kinda... similar?"
"What'd Teacher Kang sound like again?"
The other two hadn't even registered Kang Seong-bae's voice. But the sound director was different. A lifetime in audio made the sudden shift in timbre crystal clear.
"Moo-young-ah. Do it again."
"Again? Ahem. Gotta scratch the throat a bit. Ahh."
And again!
"Great!"
"Huh. Weird. Hey, you got talent? That's straight-up Teacher's voice. Eyes closed, no way to tell."
He meant it. Coming from Moo-young, it was iffy—but purely auditory, indistinguishable.
"Again. Again. Whoa, wild."
"Director. Instead of messing around, let's cut a sample?"
The sound director, hooked, prodded Moo-young. He turned to Director Bae, who nodded noncommittally.
"Yeah. Might as well record it, just in case."
"......That identical?"
Director Bae laughed in disbelief. Screw this up, and it'd be a joke. Korea already frowned on ADR anyway. Botch the edit, total embarrassment.
"Let's compare? Moo-young-ah."
"Sure."
At the sound director's cue, Moo-young spun back into the booth. The screen switched from take 85 to 66—Kang Seong-bae's face.
"Ooh. That's how they edited it."
"Teacher's gotta see this."
The old man just chuckled at his mutter.
Hands clasped tight again. The sound director's voice.
"Hear the voice? Don't worry about sync—just act."
"Got it."
Staggering. A thief wobbling across heat-shimmering asphalt, drunk on sleep, shuffling on.
Moo-young mirrored the screen lightly.
"Great!"
Of course, gripping the teacher's hand, victory pose!
"OK. Come out."
The sound director played Moo-young's fresh take against the unedited original—0.5-second offset for distinction.
"So. Which is real Teacher Kang?"
"Uh. The first one."
"Nah? Motorcycle sounds delayed."
The vroom hummed faintly, but too brief to split hairs.
Director Bae pondered, then conceded.
"OK. The fact we're even debating proves it."
A fleeting one-liner. If they couldn't tell, no issue at all.
Even his family wouldn't know.
"Then let's wrap for today. Mic back on, please."
Moo-young headed in. Kang Seong-bae stretched his throat and body, beaming.
Moo-young sighed softly and whispered, "You do the acting, Teacher. I'll just lend my voice."
"Deal. My true final performance. Haha."
Casual as ever. Moo-young's eyes welled up again; the teacher stroked his hand.
"Why so glum? Like I said in the hospital—eternal sleep leads to the world I want. So I'm not scared. Got one last act, and my world's waiting after."
Moo-young wiped his eyes and nodded. Gulped ice water to steel his throat, headset on.
"Moo-young-ah. Ready?"
"Yeah. Set."
Hands locked. The elder devoured the screen, unleashing his performance: jumping in place, dodging a car with a stumble, ecstasy surging as he thrust both arms skyward.
"Great!"
"Great!"
Click.
"OK. One more. Slower."
"Sure."
The thief's jubilant emotion flowed from Kang Seong-bae to Moo-young. Hands clasped, thrusting up together! They bellowed till their throats tore.
"Great—!"
"OK. Cut. Nailed it. Done."
How many minutes? At the long-awaited OK, Moo-young turned naturally to Kang Seong-bae. The elder hugged him warmly.
"Thanks. Meeting you was great."
"You too, Teacher."
Click.
"Oh, right. Moo-young-ah. On the way back today......"
The door opened; Go Kyung-min entered. Moo-young turned, then looked left to the teacher......
"......Teacher?"
Gone, clean as if he'd never been. Only faint flower pollen lingered.
Moo-young leaned against the wall and slid down.
Teacher. Tell me.
What his eternal world was like.
Ring ring— ring ring—
Everyone's phones buzzed. Moo-young's in his coat too.
"Huh?"
"What's this."
The three checked, faces paling as they read.
"Moo-young-ah! The text—"
Go Kyung-min called urgently, then stopped. Moo-young had buried his face in his knees, sobbing heartbrokenly—like losing a friend right before his eyes.
"Moo-young-ah?"
He lifted his tear-streaked face.
And delivered the confirmation kill.
"Teacher's gone."