The Genius Actor Who Brings Misfortune — Episode 140
"I'm sorry. I came out to have fun with a friend, so could you keep this between us?"
She was so startled that the employee, her eyes gone round as saucers, simply nodded her head in a big, silent sweep.
Thankfully, no one besides this employee had seen my face.
I hurriedly put on the Nolbu mask. It was bigger than I'd expected.
Worried I might actually tumble off the stage, I tied the strings tight.
"I just have to say the lines written on this paper, right?"
"Ah, yes…."
"Just the two of us going up?"
"Yes, yes. Um, but the friend playing the narrator reads out the summary. And the stage directions…."
I got the gist of it. It was probably done like a pansori performance, with a narrator carrying the story along.
Still wearing her startled expression, the employee rattled off her guidance like she was reciting a memorized script.
"Since I'm playing Heungbu, I'll go up first, rescue the swallow, and receive the gourd. After I find the treasure inside the gourd, I'll act shocked. Then, th-that's when you come up, Yeonjae-ssi, deliberately break the swallow's leg, receive your gourd, and smash it. A dokkaebi comes out and wrecks his house — that's the story."
"I see. If you show me a demonstration first, I'll follow along."
"……."
I didn't think I'd said anything wrong, yet somehow the employee's face stiffened dramatically.
Why was she acting like that? Trembling, the employee mounted the stage with a suddenly nervous look.
The narrator at the microphone called out in a playfully exaggerated voice.
"A chance to act alongside real actors! Today's stage is Heungbu and Nolbu! Playing Heungbu, actor Lee Minsoo! And playing Nolbu, our very own… uh, has requested anonymity. Yes! Please enjoy the performance of Anonymous!"
The stage beside the booth was tiny, and there were hardly any spectators.
As everyone strolled past without a second glance, Seo Jio settled into one of the few chairs. Whether he'd been watching me the whole time or not, our eyes met right away.
'Fighting.'
He mouthed the cheer silently, and a hollow laugh escaped me.
The props the staff had hastily arranged on stage were almost too pathetic to call props. Seeing that clumsy ball-shaped thing that looked like it was made of paper actually put me in a cheerful mood.
Acting had always been a dead-serious matter for me. This was the first time I'd ever done something so haphazard and light.
Getting properly immersed in a skit like this would probably come off as overkill, so I figured I'd just season it lightly.
"Oh my, what is all this treasure! Let the whole world see! Never again will I have to starve my wife and children! How has such a joyous thing come to pass!"
The employee playing Heungbu, actor Lee Minsoo, was a far better actor than I'd expected. His voice, drawn booming from deep in his belly, was solid, and he stirred the tiny stage with a knack for snaring the audience's attention.
'I'd heard stage acting was different, but seeing it up close like this — it really is.'
Unlike film and drama, which reach people through the lens, theater demanded acting that faced the audience head-on. No wonder he poured every ounce of his focus toward the crowd like that.
'His movements are big and exaggerated. All his angles lean forward, too.'
Watching the two-odd minutes of Lee Minsoo's Heungbu, my mind spun without rest. Where to direct my gaze, how to move my feet, how to pitch my lines — the answers shifted from moment to moment.
'Just enjoy it lightly.'
This wasn't a film set where I couldn't afford to be a nuisance to anyone. And if I sank in as deeply as usual, there was a real chance I'd drift off somewhere entirely on my own.
"The wicked Nolbu, who had been secretly watching Heungbu all along! Envious of his brother's happiness, Nolbu devises a plan to break a swallow's leg himself!"
Matching the narrator's tone as he milked the comedy for all it was worth, I stepped onto the stage. I'd left the script on the ground before climbing up. It was only a handful of lines anyway — no need to carry it.
"So that dog Heungbu fixed a swallow's leg and got rich, is it? Well then, I'll break fifty swallow legs and get even richer!"
The Tale of Heungbu and Nolbu was the quintessential story of virtue rewarded and vice punished — the kind you didn't need to study to know. Good people are blessed through good deeds; bad people suffer through bad ones. Simple as that.
The way to deliver a moral clearly was simple, too. Make the two heroes unmistakably contrasted, so the difference couldn't be missed.
"Where are the swallows, damn them! I'll break their legs for you right now!"
I shouted far louder and far more vilely than Lee Minsoo had before me. Since the mask hid my expressions, I strode across the stage with exaggerated, arrogant steps instead, strutting like a man who owned the place.
To bring out a gaze dripping with greed, I glared around excessively, scoping out everything in sight. Then I grabbed the gray something at center stage that was standing in for the swallow.
Ugh. Why is it so squishy?
It was too floppy to get a proper grip on, so I mimed breaking the toy in half.
"Done! Hahaha! Who knew money could be this easy! So this is when my useless little brother finally comes in handy. Hurry up and give me my gourd!"
I bellowed at the empty air. It was Heungbu's turn for the gourd to come rolling onto the stage — and then mine.
But a staffer's hand must have slipped, because my gourd came rolling in clumsily. About to tumble off the edge of the stage thanks to a botched course correction, it was caught — with my foot, in a panic.
Without a second to think, I improvised a line that wasn't in the script.
"Ah, the gourd rolls obediently right to my feet — the world truly is on my side! I'll open this gourd at once and make myself rich!"
God, this is exhausting.
Projecting my voice like this was harder than I'd thought. I felt like an idiot for having underestimated it just because I only had a few lines.
'I'll have to practice more when I get home.'
Thinking I should extend my vocal training sessions, I mimed smashing the gourd. When I pressed the button in the middle as the employee had instructed, the hollow gourd split open.
'And inside this, apparently, is a dokkaebi.'
So I flinched back shrieking and collapsed onto the stage floor.
The narrator cut in right on cue.
"But what returned to wicked Nolbu was not treasure — it was a dokkaebi! As the dokkaebi tears Nolbu's house to pieces, too late, Nolbu wails!"
I gaped at the empty space behind the stage, flailing about in helpless panic. Here, over-the-top fairytale theatrics were the right call rather than genuinely desperate screaming.
"Oh dear, how did it all come to this! Greed brought this calamity upon me. I should have listened to my little brother. Sob, sob."
Did the real Nolbu ever actually think this way? I doubt it. Then again, this is a folktale so old its author is unknown, so there's no telling what the true original contained. At least the lines in this script had an unmistakable purpose: teaching children a lesson.
'I'd say I gave a performance fitting the purpose, wouldn't you?'
I'd gone in cold with zero rehearsal, but it hadn't been a complete disaster. So when the narrator asked the audience to give all the hardworking actors a round of applause, I rose promptly to my feet.
And then —
"Wow, that guy can really act."
"Mommy, I wanna do that too! Me too!"
"What play is this? Can we watch without a ticket?"
Far more people were clapping than I'd expected. When did all these people gather? Just moments ago, everyone had been breezing past like they couldn't care less.
At some point the handful of chairs had filled up completely, with a crowd pressed in behind them.
Only then did sweat break out down my back.
Looking down at Seo Jio — tears in his eyes, snickering with delight — I became all the more certain.
'I… was way too immersed to claim I wasn't immersed.'
Flushing with embarrassment, I found myself rubbing the back of my neck.
It had been a more fun time than I expected.
"Wow. You're amazing. Honestly, 'amazing' is the only word I've got."
"Got it? Now stop teasing."
"I'm not teasing, I mean it."
Then your eyes are doing way too much teasing.
Seo Jio hadn't stopped laughing from the moment I'd put my cap and mask back on and walked over to him. He laughed so hard his cheeks gave out — at the sight of his pained, weepy face, I finally knocked him on the head with a knuckle sandwich.
"Ow! That's harsh!"
"It's supposed to hurt. We have to catch our bus soon, don't we?"
"Yeah. We should probably grab a taxi around now."
Just as we moved to leave, someone shouted loudly from behind us.
"Excuse me!"
It was an earnest enough cry that it couldn't be brushed off. And the fact that he was deliberately avoiding calling my name showed real consideration — which made it even harder to ignore.
After a moment's hesitation, I turned around.
Actor Lee Minsoo stood there, sweat-soaked and breathing hard.
"S-sorry to bother you, sir. Um, our festival runs through next week, and I was wondering… would it be all right if we posted footage of your performance as a promotional video?"
"Footage of me? I told you I didn't want to be filmed."
"Ah, right, it's just… we need something to report to the city office, so we record everything as a matter of course. Parents can request the files for a fee."
Shouldn't that have been announced in advance, then?
It seemed pointless to lecture him about footage that had already been shot, so I stayed quiet — but he must have read it in my eyes. Dripping with sweat, actor Lee Minsoo stammered out another apology.
I told him it was fine.
"Hmm, I don't think I can decide that on the spot. I'll give you my business card — could you send the video to the email address on the bottom first? I'll talk it over with my agency and let you know."
"Yes, of course! Thank you so much! And, um, if it's not too much trouble, could I get an autograph…?"
It was such a trivial request that calling it a bother felt absurd. Still, we were out on the street — even though I signed quickly and hurriedly, heads turned.
"Who was that? Don't tell me he's a celebrity?"
As the faint voices made me uncomfortable, Seo Jio, quick on the uptake, whispered, "Want me to grab a taxi?"
"Let's do that."
He hailed one as if he'd been waiting for the chance, holding the door open and telling me to get in first. Maybe it was because we were boarding a cab in the middle of a packed crowd, but the car crept along like a turtle crawling over rocks.
Normally I'd have winced at the meter climbing, but today I just gazed out the window.
'So this is what a film festival is — a festival bursting with life like this.'
Every face filling the streets read with a different emotion. And somehow, it felt as though those emotions were flowing into me, unfiltered.
After collecting our things, we boarded the bus back to Seoul without a hitch. Three hours later, the Express Bus Terminal building came into view through the window.
'I told you I'm taking a taxi.'
Seriously, the man never listens.
Well, it's not like I'd installed the location-sharing app without expecting this. I was typing out my fine reply when a low voice drifted over from the seat beside me.
"Yeonjae."
"Yeah?"
"Was the festival fun?"
A languid drawl, just like his owner's, brushed against my ear. I turned my head and studied Seo Jio for a moment. His heavy-lidded eyes met mine, a trace of amusement pooled in them.
"Yeah. It was really fun. Thanks for bringing me along."
"And my proof of worth? Did I manage that too?"
Why ask a question when you already know the answer?
"If you still want to hang around me, I'm happy with that."
To my calm, level answer, the only reply was a smile.
'I really need to have a proper talk with Noh Bihyuk.'
As long as he hung around me, running into Seo Jio was inevitable. I had to minimize anything that would cost both of them.
I was still picking through words and sentences, deciding how to broach it with Noh Bihyuk, when Seo Jio tapped my arm.
"What?"
"You're on the news."
"…?"
On the screen he handed over, a video was playing. Beneath the news anchor's murmured report, a headline flashed in bold lettering.