A Face That Tells a Story
"Memorization... 8.5? Me?"
An 8.5 out of 10 was remarkably high. Back in my trainee days, I had never once broken an 8 on the monthly evaluations — and it wasn't just me. Not a single member of the team had ever cracked a 9. Lyrics, at least, I had always been decent at memorizing.
And yet my status window had two categories sitting comfortably above a 9: Character Analysis, and Emotional Immersion. That much, I could understand. When I acted, it had genuinely felt like I had become Choi Dooshik.
"Gaze Control... 6.5..."
Even as a trainee, I had been dinged for awkward eye work at every evaluation. I just hadn't expected it to dog me here, too. But for a character like Choi Dooshik, that stiffness might actually be an asset. The man had to wear ordinary life like a poorly fitted suit — a little off, a little wrong.
"Vocalization, Pronunciation... 5.8..."
A sigh slipped out of me. Another perennial critique from my trainee years.
"That's the worst of it..."
The silver lining was that Choi Dooshik barely had any lines. Everything had to be carried by the eyes, the face, the body. That was the Choi Dooshik I had pieced together from the script.
"Recognition: 0...? Ah... nothing's aired yet."
I had almost forgotten. This was Choi Dooshik's recognition, not mine. Not that Seo Jinwoo's number would have looked any different.
Looking at the status window, the gaps were suddenly, painfully clear. Gaze Control. Vocalization. Pronunciation.
"Alright. From today on, that's all I practice."
I opened the front door, and my steps into the living room felt almost weightless. That morning, leaving the house had felt like being marched to a slaughterhouse. A life I had written off as a failure had just found a new turning point, and whatever it took, I was going to seize this chance. There was no road back.
The smell of cooking hit me the moment I stepped inside. My mother's back was visible at the kitchen counter. I crept up behind her and threw my arms around her waist.
"Mom!"
She jumped, exactly as expected.
"Good heavens! You scared me! What are you doing here...? Weren't you going back to the dorm?"
"I missed you, so I came back."
"......"
"Figured I'd eat with you before I go."
"Are you sure that's alright? You said you were so busy..."
"This much is fine."
I had gone the whole day without eating, and my stomach chose that moment to growl. Going hungry had become so familiar it barely registered anymore — but I could never hold out against my mother's home cooking.
"Mom... I'm starving."
"It's ready. Go wash your hands and sit down."
And just like that, I had dinner alone with her for the first time in what felt like forever. I couldn't even remember the last time we had sat down to a meal together. She quietly laid a piece of perfectly caramelized bulgogi over my rice.
"Try this too. The seasoning soaked all the way through. It's good."
"I can get it myself. You eat too, Mom."
"Is the company cafeteria feeding you properly?"
"Yeah, it's fine."
"Then why are you so thin..."
"It's management. I'm an idol."
"Even so. There's nothing left of you but bone. You look so gaunt."
"Everyone's like this. It's not just me. How is an idol supposed to debut if he eats whatever he wants?"
"Hah..."
I had lived by that logic for years. Maybe it was alright to let it go, just a little.
"Starting today... I'll eat properly."
"If you put on just ten more kilos, I think my boy would look so much prettier..."
"Got it. I'll put on ten kilos."
Once the meal was over, a heavy, pleasant fullness settled in, and suddenly everything felt like too much work.
"Mom, I'm just going to sleep here one more night. It's late. I can't be bothered to head back now."
"Hm? Are you sure that's okay?"
"Why wouldn't it be? I'm about to debut anyway..."
As an actor, not a singer — but the word debut made her eyes go wide.
"When are you debuting!?"
"The exact date hasn't been set yet, so... I don't really know either."
"Where are you going to be on? KBC? SBC?"
"Uh... I'm not sure about the details, either."
"What? How do you not know that?"
I genuinely didn't. I had walked into an audition with nothing but a script in my hands. All I knew was the title of the project — Traces of Evil — and the name Choi Dooshik. That was it.
Then a familiar voice spilled from the television in the living room.
"Chairman, I'm sorry, but I can't accept this money."
My mother's eyes flew open.
"Oh! It's Lee Ayoung! Honey, Mom needs to watch her drama right now... tell me if you need anything."
She left those words in her wake and trotted straight for the sofa, where she sat down, remote clutched tight in both hands, and stared at the screen as if nothing else in the world existed.
"Hic... Chairman. I really do like the director..."
"How dare you! My son... You think I raised him all these years just to hand him over to the likes of you!?"
Mom poured out a stream of pained little sighs, her face twisted with sympathy.
"Aigoo, aigoo..."
I eased down onto the sofa beside her and looked at the screen. I had been sure I recognized that voice from somewhere, and of course I did. I had never seen her in person before today, but she was the actress who had been almost painfully beautiful.
Hwang Mina. My senior, now.
"You know Lee Ayoung too, right?"
"Her? Hwang Mina sunbaenim? Yeah, I know her..."
"The actress's name is Hwang Mina? In this she's Lee Ayoung..."
The drama she was watching was The Heirs. The actress playing the heroine, Lee Ayoung, was Hwang Mina. She looked so different from the woman I had seen today. Onscreen, she seemed a little younger, a little softer around the edges.
"Mom, when did this drama air?"
"I have no idea...?"
Curiosity got the better of me, so I looked it up. It had come out three years ago.
"Mom, this thing is three years old. Why are you watching an old drama?"
"Mom doesn't know about that kind of thing... If it's fun, I watch it."
Every time Lee Ayoung appeared onscreen, a smile spread across my mother's face.
"You like Lee Ayoung that much?"
"Mm. She's so pretty, and kind, and she's a wonderful actress... just like your noona."
"......"
My expression curdled. I could grant her the first half of that. Comparing the woman to my sister, though, was a bit much. If Hwang Mina sunbae sued my mother over that, I wouldn't have a word to say in her defense.
"I wonder how pretty she is in real life..."
"You want to see Lee Ayoung in person?"
"Of course I do. If I could, I'd look a hundred times over."
"Hmm... want me to get you Lee Ayoung's autograph?"
Mom, who had been completely absorbed in the television, whipped her head around to stare at me.
"Autograph...? Honey, you know Lee Ayoung?"
"I mean, I know her..."
About as well as Mom did, if I was being honest. Still — I had seen Hwang Mina sunbaenim with my own two eyes today. Calling it a conversation felt like a stretch, but we had exchanged words.
"Seo Jinwoo-ssi, I enjoyed your performance. You're very good."
"Thank you..."
That was the entire exchange.
"Honey, are you actually close with Lee Ayoung?"
I had never said we were close.
"Not close, exactly..."
We had just lucked into being cast in the same drama. Asking for an autograph didn't seem like too much of a reach. I had never seen my mother this gone over a celebrity.
"Honey, is Lee Ayoung at your company?"
"No, it's not like that..."
Our company didn't have a single actor on the roster. Ah — wait. It did now.
Me...
I lay down in bed and switched off the light. A moment later, Mom eased my door open.
"Honey... are you trying to sleep?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Can you really get Lee Ayoung's autograph?"
She looked so hopeful I immediately regretted opening my mouth. I should have just gotten it in secret and handed it over.
"...I'll try."
"Then while you're at it, could you get one more...?"
"Two of them? Why?"
"There's a regular at Mom's salon... that ajumma is crazy about Lee Ayoung too..."
"Ah..."
A regular customer. That was non-negotiable.
"I'll ask..."
"Really!? Thank you, honey! You know Mom loves you so, so much, right?"
"Yeah..."
My reaction must have been lacking, because her face went dead serious.
"Mom. Loves. You."
"Yeah... love you too."
"Good night, my boy. Sweet dreams."
I couldn't understand how an autograph could make anyone this happy. The look on her face was identical to the one those schoolgirls had worn on the bus that afternoon, staring at me.
I survived another day and woke up in one piece. Sooner or later I was going to have to tell her...
I quit being an idol. I walked away. I'm going to be an actor now...
Getting those words out felt impossibly hard. She would be devastated. Disappointed. For tonight, at least, I couldn't sleep here. A tail that grew too long always got stepped on. I was going to have to stay somewhere else for a while.
Not that I could go back to the dorm, either.
"This is a mess..."
Worry sat heavy in my chest, but my face was still smiling.
"I'm... Choi Dooshik."
A thread of hope was still there. That was enough.
I slipped out of the house without breakfast and caught a bus. It was only six in the morning — probably the first run of the day. I was the only passenger. I made my way to the very back, settled against the seat, and got comfortable.
My destination was the Wooju Entertainment building. I was going to see the CEO again. There was no more diet to keep, which meant the first order of business was getting to the company and eating. At this hour the place would be empty. Perfect. No awkward run-ins with the members like yesterday.
"Haaah... maybe I got up too early."
A yawn pulled itself out of me, and drowsiness came flooding in behind it. I leaned back, let my eyes fall shut. The ride to the company was about thirty minutes. One short nap and I would wake up feeling brand new. Sleeping upright in a seat was a skill I had already maxed out...
I don't know how long I was out. A strange prickling sensation — the feeling of someone staring a hole through me — made me crack my eyes open.
A voice came from the seat directly beside mine.
"Whoa..."
I jerked my head around. A girl. A student in a school uniform, a face I had never seen before.
"......"
She stared at me without a shred of embarrassment, eyes locked on my face, and even when our gazes met she didn't look away. So I did.
"Um, oppa..."
Oppa? We'd never even met...
"Oppa, you're so handsome it's actually kind of rude..."
"......"
Rude-handsome. I turned the phrase over and still couldn't tell if it was a compliment or an insult.
"Oppa, you're not a terrible person, right?"
I had never met anyone who would say something like that to my face.
"I don't get even one percent of kindness from your face..."
Definitely an insult, I decided.
"But you're also, like, sexy-handsome..."
A compliment...?
I was thoroughly lost.
"You look like you'd be amazing at doing terrible things... but also like you'd treat a girlfriend incredibly well..."
"......"
"Seriously... your face is a whole story..."
She kept swinging back and forth so hard I still couldn't tell if I was being roasted or praised. Her verbal dribbling was practically Messi-tier.
"Who... are you, exactly?"
I asked because I genuinely wanted to know. Who was this person, evaluating my face with this much unhinged confidence?
"Huh? Oh... I'm just a student who got on the bus..."
"......"