The Weight of Shame
The boy never turned himself in. The moment his mother died, Min-seo was sent to an orphanage, and Go Su-hyeok, who had tried to do something—anything—was summoned by the biological father and forced to endure humiliation.
“We plan to provide the child with support that won’t leave her wanting. Stay out of matters that don’t concern you and let this pass quietly.”
Chairman Ha Nam-cheol spoke as if he were magnanimously overlooking Ha Min-jun’s crime. As if he, of all people, had any right to forgive it.
Go Su-hyeok blamed his own powerlessness and went to see Min-seo. If failing to do anything was a sin, then he was guilty.
But Min-seo did not blame him.
“I was the one who kept my mouth shut. That was the choice I made.”
“When an adult threatens a child, the child has no choice but to obey. That wasn’t a fully autonomous decision on your part.”
“Even so… I abandoned my mom too, didn’t I? We’re the same.”
Sitting on the swing in the park near the orphanage, Min-seo kept her head bowed the entire time.
“You know… when Mom left me behind, she covered her face. I wondered why, but… I think she was ashamed.”
Go Su-hyeok knew he would never forget that small back, bowed in shame, for the rest of his life.
“If only she hadn’t known shame… she might not have died like that.”
The scene returned to the hospital, where Go Su-hyeok moved busily. Over his image, Min-seo’s narration layered softly.
“It would have been better if she had never been in a position where she had to feel ashamed in the first place.”
Go Su-hyeok’s eyes darkened with complicated emotion as he stopped a drunk patient from striking a nurse.
The screen changed again, capturing Ha Min-jun gazing down at the night view from a high-rise apartment. In his hand was a glass containing only ice.
“Do you think Mom regretted abandoning me? Or did she regret feeling ashamed?”
As if he had heard Min-seo’s words, Ha Min-jun’s face twisted. He hurled the glass to the floor.
The faces of the two brothers filled the screen side by side, and episode 16 came to an end.
That day, the drama broke its highest viewership rating yet.
The day I went to the broadcasting station for post-recording, Director Gu Su-min asked Mom a question.
“You still haven’t signed with an agency, right? And you haven’t decided on the next project either.”
“That’s right. I’m thinking of letting the child rest a bit before choosing the next project, and the agency situation… well, I’m still thinking it over.”
“It would be best to choose carefully.”
“Carefully? Is there a reason?”
Mom, who wasn’t familiar with this industry, looked puzzled, but I could already guess what Director Gu was about to say.
“Once the ‘Min-seo’ episodes air, you’ll be flooded with exclusive contract offers and next-project proposals. You’ll need to pick the very best one.”
And just as he predicted, that was exactly what happened.
In the era of major OTT platforms, a terrestrial drama had achieved a thirty-percent rating. It was an impressive feat for a Friday-Saturday drama that didn’t even air on weekends.
Director Gu Su-min decided to ride this momentum and released a making-of video for the Min-seo episodes. The title was ridiculous.
…This was all Do Je-hyun’s fault. He kept calling me that at every opportunity, so Director Gu ended up using it. Or maybe it was the making-of director’s idea?
Mom had watched it so many times that the moment she opened Wetube, the video popped up at the top. She grinned again.
“Is it really that fun? You were there on set.”
“Aigoo, it’s different. The editing is really well done.”
“Want to watch it again?”
“I just want to see how many likes it got.”
Mom offered every excuse imaginable and then settled in to watch the video properly. The footage was indeed well-made, and the reactions were excellent.
Since it was a making-of video for a smoothly sailing drama, the comments were overwhelmingly positive.
Mom tapped the heart button on every comment she liked.
It was fascinating. In my previous life, I had never searched for online reactions while I was around.
Well, back then I was truly young and couldn’t act like this, so it makes sense the response is better now.
After happily reading through the comments, Mom set her phone down. At that exact moment, a new message arrived with a cheerful chime.
“Oh my, how did they get my number? Still, I should reply…”
Since I didn’t have a phone yet, every single contact flooded Mom’s device. Messages of congratulations came not only from the writer and director but also from Do Je-hyun, Cho Yong-jin, and Gi Seong-hui.
Following Director Gu Su-min’s advice—knowing I had no agency and Mom wasn’t an industry insider—we had created a business email account. Even so, quite a few people still reached out by text.
As a result, Mom had been swamped for days just answering them all.
“Just say thank you and that we were lucky.”
When I saw how earnestly she was writing, I spoke up. Mom shot me a glare.
“How can your acting be called luck? You practiced so hard. And since this result was created together with everyone else, you shouldn’t diminish it by calling it luck.”
It was true that simply working hard or being good at acting didn’t guarantee good results in dramas… but she wasn’t wrong, so I stayed quiet.
“Ah! Look at this. Actor Do Je-hyun even wrote your name on Inbreeze. Su-a, you need to make an account soon.”
Mom, checking the post through the web because she didn’t have the Inbreeze app, looked like her eyes were spinning.
Unlike Mom’s Wetube channel, which had around fifty thousand subscribers, Do Je-hyun’s Inbreeze account—with its substantial overseas fandom—had over ten million followers. And my face and name had been posted on that very account.
The comments had already piled up by the thousands. As Mom scrolled down and saw the notification asking her to download the app to see more, I snatched the phone from her hand just as she was about to tap the download button.
“There probably won’t be anything about me, right? It’s Do Je-hyun’s account, so his fans must be the ones commenting.”
“Come on, sweetie. You should call him senior.”
“I know, I know. I’ll send Actor Do Je-hyun a separate thank-you text. As for SNS, I think it’s better to get an agency first and then make an account.”
I closed the Inbreeze tab and opened Mom’s email account instead.
We hadn’t publicized it, but we had told the station that if any inquiries related to me came in, they should share this email. Sure enough, it was packed.
“There are so many emails I need to reply to…!”
“You don’t have to answer them all individually. It’s safer to handle interviews after signing with an agency, so just keep those for now. We should look through the agency emails, and for the next-project inquiries…”
“Wait, when did you learn how to do all this? Where did you pick this up?”
“They teach computer class at school these days. The teacher even praised me for doing well. Look.”
I created separate folders for reporters, agencies, and next projects, sorting them neatly. I pulled out the ones worth reading based on the name value of the sender, and there were more than I expected.
Agencies from Do Je-hyun, Gi Seong-hui, and Cho Yong-jin all sent offers, and quite a few from idol entertainment companies too. I have zero intention of becoming an idol, though.
Interview requests had come from all three major terrestrial networks as well as the bigger cable channels. I set those aside too.
After tapping away diligently on the phone screen, I archived about two hundred and fifty emails that didn’t need to be read.
“Is it really okay to do this…?”
“Most of them probably sent these without high expectations. If we reply to an interview, great. If not, oh well—they’re just testing the waters.”
“How do you know things like that?”
“I heard it from Director Gu Su-min and Senior Gi Seong-hui.”
I hadn’t heard it in quite this much detail, but the general idea was the same. Even if Mom asked them later, there wouldn’t be a problem.
Still, Mom seemed overly worried, so I wrote a few appropriately polite replies and sent them.
We were both lying on our stomachs on the floor when Mom suddenly seemed to realize something and asked,
“Are you planning to turn down everything? You still need to find an agency.”