Momentum (2)
Mo Yeon-hee sat across from Jeong Seung-il in a quiet tatami room at a Japanese restaurant in the heart of Gangnam.
Once they were settled, the server quietly slid the door shut behind them. A folding screen embroidered with carp stood against the wall.
“Thank you for making time today, Mr. Jeong. I feel bad for putting you through the audition when you clearly prepared so thoroughly.”
“You even invited me to dinner, Director Mo. I must be doing better than I thought.”
“Oh, someone of your caliber deserves top treatment anywhere. Calling it growth feels modest.”
Until recently, Jeong Seung-il had been a leading actor at the B-list level. But the drama he starred in had not only topped its time slot but was also on track to claim the highest viewership rating of the year for its network. An award at the year-end ceremonies was practically guaranteed.
That shift had elevated him from a solid B-list lead to the very top of the B-list, with industry insiders predicting he would soon cross into A-list territory next year. That was why Mo Yeon-hee had personally invited him to dinner after he had gone out of his way to audition for a supporting role.
Securing talent early is part of a director’s job.
Jeong Seung-il sat upright in a crisp shirt and tailored jacket. He bowed his head slightly, voice respectful.
“Not at all. It was your project, so of course I wanted to be considered. The result is disappointing, but I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
“Still, we’re going to see each other more than once or twice from now on. I wanted to thank you properly.”
When Mo Yeon-hee poured him sake, he accepted the cup with both hands. The clear liquid trembled inside.
A brief silence settled between them.
“By the way, I heard the role I auditioned for went to Kang Tae-san.”
“Mm. Word travels fast, doesn’t it?”
Jeong Seung-il had specifically pointed out that they had cast a C-list actor who was only just being called a blue chip. Mo Yeon-hee glanced at him, but there was no trace of wounded pride on his face. Instead, he nodded with a wry smile.
“Yes, I heard. Honestly, if it’s Kang Tae-san, I can accept it. I would have chosen him too. He’s not the kind of actor you can judge by ordinary industry rankings.”
“You seem to know him well.”
“During Criminal Record, I thought he was the one who carried the early ratings. That’s just my personal opinion.”
He gave a bitter laugh. It was rare enough for an actor of Jeong Seung-il’s stature to voluntarily audition for a supporting role, let alone feel any sense of inferiority toward a blue-chip actor who, until recently, had been little more than a newcomer. With his current name value, offers would soon come to him without him having to chase them.
That only made Mo Yeon-hee more curious.
“You’re acknowledging his skill regardless of rank?”
“Yes. I’m not the type to get petty about levels. I wanted to audition because I was genuinely interested, not because of any ranking.”
“You should have gone for the lead instead. You’re not exactly supporting-actor material.”
Jeong Seung-il set his cup down and added, “My agency already told me the lead role had been decided.”
“Really? Word does travel fast.”
“They said the lead had already been offered to Yoon Si-on.”
Yoon Si-on. The genius actor whose name everyone in Korea knew. Among male actors in their thirties, he commanded the highest market value. If he continued without major incidents, he was expected to become the youngest “national actor” in history. Most of his peers were constantly compared to him, and Jeong Seung-il was no exception.
“That’s right. Yoon Si-on will play the lead. The script was written with him in mind from the beginning.”
“Exactly. That’s why I decided to accept it gracefully.”
Mo Yeon-hee nodded calmly. Has Jeong Seung-il given up competing with Yoon Si-on? The same Jeong Seung-il who lives and breathes passion?
She had always known he wasn’t the type to yield easily to a rival, especially one he had been compared to for so long. While she was still puzzling over it, Jeong Seung-il spoke again.
“But there’s an actor even more terrifying than Yoon Si-on.”
Jeong Seung-il was already among the closest to the very top among actors labeled “leading man material.”
Someone Jeong Seung-il finds more frightening than Yoon Si-on? Surely not…
Mo Yeon-hee set her cup down.
“Are you talking about Kang Tae-san?”
“The level of acting he showed at the audition doesn’t even begin to reveal his true worth. The moment I saw him, I felt that kind of wall for the first time since Yoon Si-on.”
“I didn’t expect you to say something like that. You never would have admitted it before.”
Jeong Seung-il chuckled. “As I get older, I see things more objectively. I realized it clearly during Criminal Record. I thought, ‘The lead actor in me just got completely devoured by that ridiculous unknown.’”
He paused, eyes drifting to the silk carp on the screen.
“I’ve been lucky. The timing of projects worked out, I met good directors, and I got to play leads. But if we’re only talking skill, I was honestly far behind. If I had the talent of Kang Tae-san or Yoon Si-on, I would have gone to Hollywood a long time ago.”
Mo Yeon-hee smiled faintly. She, too, knew Kang Tae-san’s acting was far beyond blue-chip level. But there was one point she wanted to correct.
“You’re thinking of him as nothing more than a naturally gifted genius, aren’t you?”
“Isn’t he?”
“The Kang Tae-san I saw is talented, but he’s more of a hard worker. The type who thoroughly calculates and researches every role. Of course, being able to turn that effort into results is also a kind of talent.”
Jeong Seung-il looked up. “Research?”
“He recreated the character beyond what I had imagined. The speech patterns, expressions, even daily habits—those were things you wouldn’t know unless you studied them in depth. A genius like Yoon Si-on devours a role in his own style, but a hard worker reproduces the director’s vision at two hundred percent.”
Jeong Seung-il fell silent. He thought about how he had always relied on emotional intuition when acting. That was why he had felt outclassed in talent. He had always been the type to perform a role instinctively, in the moment.
So all of that was the result of effort?
Mo Yeon-hee continued. “That’s the kind of actor Kang Tae-san is. A mad hard worker who gets mistaken for a genius.”
Jeong Seung-il lifted his cup with a bitter expression. The meal didn’t last long, but the atmosphere had grown strangely heavy. Watching him lost in thought, Mo Yeon-hee smiled softly.
“I like this side of you, Mr. Jeong. There are naturally gifted actors and hard-working ones in this industry, but we also need passionate ones like you.”
“I’m not as passionate as I used to be.”
“Come on. Even at your level, you were so unwilling to lose to those two that your fists turned white.”
Only then did Jeong Seung-il notice his clenched fists and quickly opened his hands. Seeing the nail marks on his palms, he gave an awkward laugh.
“Come audition for my next project too. I really want to work with you on something.”
“Thank you. I’ll come back with even better acting next time.”
Jeong Seung-il bowed briefly. Still, he knows how to acknowledge others and he has fighting spirit. If he keeps going, Jeong Seung-il will reach the top too.
Mo Yeon-hee smiled warmly as she watched him. The male actors in that age group are going to get a lot more interesting from now on.
***
After finishing practice with POA, now officially a debuted group, Kang So-yeon collapsed onto the floor, drenched in sweat. Perhaps because she was aware of their sharply rising live-stage rankings, today’s practice had been especially long and grueling, yet her heart felt light.
Her friend Ha-yoon, who had practiced with her, asked, “So-yeon, what are you doing later? Heading straight to the dorm?”
“No, I have to stop by home. My brother said he’d cook dinner.”
At those words, Shin Ha-yoon’s light-brown eyes widened. “Wait, your brother? You mean that actor? Senior Kang Tae-san?”
“Yeah, it feels weird when you call my brother ‘senior.’”
“Hey, to me you’re also a senior. You and your brother basically debuted through that MAD music video.”
“Come on, it wasn’t even the official version.”
“What are you talking about? If everyone knows about it, that’s a debut.”
As So-yeon tried to stand up, Ha-yoon suddenly grabbed her sleeve and clung to her. “My dearest So-yeon, the member I love the most. Can I maybe come with you to your house today? Let’s do a housewarming. Please?”
“I’m just going to eat. What housewarming?”
“I happen to have a housewarming gift!”
Ha-yoon waved a shopping bag. “This is super popular right now, right? I bought three, so one for you and one as a housewarming gift for your brother would be perfect. Don’t you think?”
“Scented candles?”
The brand on the bag was a premium candle line that cost over two hundred thousand won each—the current must-have luxury item. Ha-yoon came from a wealthy family and had always been free to buy whatever she wanted even as a trainee, but So-yeon, who was still waiting for her first settlement payment, had never even considered splurging on something like this. Even So-yeon, who secretly loved nice scents, found the offer tempting.
“Yeah. It’s perfect for a housewarming. It’ll make the place feel classy.”
“Our place probably doesn’t match that vibe.”
“The vibe of a house is made by the owner, you know? Your brother is handsome, after all.”
“Seriously… Fine. I’ll call him and ask.”
“Really? You’re the best!”
Tae-san’s reply over the phone was indifferent—“Do whatever you want”—so So-yeon and Ha-yoon headed to his apartment together. They took a taxi toward Yeongdeungpo. Tae-san’s building wasn’t brand new, but it was a clean, well-maintained officetel.
Ha-yoon’s eyes grew round. “It’s more modest than I expected.”
“We used to live even more modestly.”
When they rang the doorbell, footsteps approached from inside. The door opened to reveal Kang Tae-san wearing an apron.
“You’re here?”
“Yeah, I brought a friend.”
“Welcome. Come on in.”
Ha-yoon bowed slightly, looking a little nervous. “Hello. I’m So-yeon’s friend and fellow POA member, Ha-yoon. It’s nice to meet you, Senior!”
“Senior?”
Tae-san glanced at So-yeon at the unfamiliar greeting, but she only shrugged as if to say it wasn’t her doing. He laughed and welcomed them inside.
“Sure. Come in, both of you.”
Inside the living room, an unusual sight greeted them. A microwave, blender, and old toaster sat on sheets of newspaper. A half-disassembled fan leaned against one wall.
Ha-yoon’s mouth fell open. “Um… what is all this?”
So-yeon was equally confused and asked first. “What’s going on? Why is the house like this?”
“Oh, this? People were giving them away for free on Carrot Market. There are a lot of old or slightly broken appliances in this neighborhood, so I picked some up.”
“And you’re going to do what with them?”
“Fix them and sell them. They’re worth money.”
“They actually sell?”
“Yeah. Once they’re fixed, they sell.”
“You fix them yourself?”
“Of course. It’s fun. And it pays pretty well.”
Ha-yoon nodded with a dumbfounded expression. “So actors do this kind of thing too.”
“Actors are just unemployed when there’s no filming. What else would I do if I just sat around?”
Tae-san walked toward the dining table. “Anyway, let’s eat first. I made plenty of side dishes.”
On the table were kimchi jjigae, rolled omelet, bulgogi, and various seasoned vegetables. Even Ha-yoon, whose palate was accustomed to fine dining thanks to her wealthy background, found Tae-san’s home-cooked meal excellent.
She exclaimed, “Whoa, you made all of this yourself?”
“Yeah. Cooking’s the most useful hobby I have.”
“That’s amazing. You could open a restaurant, Senior. Seriously!”
“Just call me ‘hyung’ or whatever feels natural. ‘Senior’ is embarrassing.”
“Okay, then… Oppa.”
Ha-yoon grinned and pulled out the shopping bag. “This is a housewarming gift.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“It’s candles. Scented ones. They’re really hard to get.”
Tae-san opened the box. Inside was a gold sticker: Handmade Premium Candle – Di Santamaria. He tilted his head at the unfamiliar, ornate lettering.
“I guess this kind of thing is popular these days.”
“Yes. When you light it later, the scent is really subtle and nice.”
“I see.”
Tae-san nodded briefly. “Modern sensibilities are hard to keep up with.”
So-yeon burst out laughing. “Oppa, just say thank you. Don’t make it obvious you’re out of touch!”
“Right. Thanks. If you say it’s good, then it must be.”
He placed the candle in the corner of the table. A moment later, his phone chimed. Tae-san checked the screen and said, “It sold.”
“What did?”
“The microwave. Thirty thousand won.”
“Really?”
Ha-yoon’s eyes widened. “That actually sold? Wow, that’s amazing.”
“Yeah. I fixed it and listed it.”
“Do you do this kind of thing often?”
“Anything that makes money is worth trying. It’s just a side gig.”
So-yeon set down her chopsticks. “But Oppa, you’re an actor now. You got paid for the drama and the ads. Do you really need to do stuff like this?”
“Even rich people would pick up a ten-thousand-won bill if they saw it on the street, wouldn’t they?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Right. So if people are just throwing money on the ground, why wouldn’t you pick it up?”
“Hmm… Okay, you’ve got a point. We should definitely pick it up.”
Ha-yoon watched the siblings laughing over a conversation only they understood and tilted her head in confusion. What are they talking about? Why would people throw money away?
After the meal, Tae-san cleared the table and went back to tightening and wiping the disassembled appliances. So-yeon stood up. “Oppa, you’re doing it again?”
“Yeah. I want to finish the rest quickly.”
“I’ll help.”
“It’s fine. Your hands will smell like oil.”
“It’s okay.”
So-yeon picked up a towel and stood beside him. Watching them, Ha-yoon suddenly clapped her hands as if she had just realized something. Aha! He must care a lot about environmental activism!
Impressed by how much there was to learn, she quickly joined in. “Can I help too?”
“Sure. Can you wipe the separated fan blades over there with this cloth?”
Ha-yoon, who had never done anything like this in her life, sat down beside Tae-san with a proud feeling. Dark smudges soon appeared on her once-pristine white fingers. Staring at her hands with a strangely satisfied expression, she declared in a triumphant voice, “Thanks to us, the Earth will be a little cleaner now.”
“Huh? Why the Earth?”
“We’re doing environmental work right now, aren’t we?”
“……”
Seeing Tae-san smile without saying a word, Ha-yoon became convinced. She decided that Kang Tae-san was a first-rate actor in both skill and character, someone who cared more than anyone about global poverty and environmental pollution in the third world.
But contrary to Ha-yoon’s thoughts, Tae-san was starting to feel uneasy. Don’t tell me she’s doing this so she can take a cut later?
He made a mental note to do this kind of work alone from now on, when his sister’s friends weren’t around.