A Genius Actor Who Brings Misfortune — Episode 154
When am I going home?
It was my tenth day in France, and that single thought filled my head. I knew I had no right to complain, but my brain refused to cooperate.
"You feeling okay? The food sitting well with you?"
"Yeah. I've been eating all three meals Korean-style through room service."
"Still, you went all the way to France—you've gotta try the escargot at least once."
I gave a hollow laugh at Noh Bihyeok's snickering voice. "You can't even handle whelks, and you're lecturing me about snails?"
"……"
The phone went quiet for a moment—I could tell he'd just remembered turning his nose up at the cold whelk noodle salad in the school cafeteria recently.
"So when do you fly back? When are you coming home? I'm bored out of my mind."
I held back a laugh at how quickly he changed the subject. "Tomorrow. Hang in there a little longer. You and Seo Jio haven't been fighting, have you?"
"Man, don't even get me started. That guy's a completely different person depending on whether you're around or not. When you're there, he just strolls around grinning all day, but the second you're gone, he won't even look at me. I swear he's a legit psychopath."
Noh Bihyeok grumbled on and on about how unbearably annoying Seo Jio was. I let him vent for a few more minutes before hanging up.
"Ready to go, sir?"
"Yes."
"Good thing I let you make that call. Your expression's way looser than it was earlier."
"…? Is it?"
I checked the mirror after Jinbae's remark, but it looked exactly the same to me. The nonstop barrage of Noh Bihyeok's voice for ten straight minutes had probably done its work; I rubbed my faintly tingling ear and got to my feet.
"Anyway, thanks for giving me time to call. Shall we head out?"
"Yes. Director Yoon is waiting for you in the lobby."
Today was finally the day of the closing ceremony at the Cannes Film Festival.
We were on our way to walk the red carpet now. And since Cannes only invites award recipients to its closing ceremony, our attendance could only mean one thing—Twins was going home with something.
Director Yoon kept dropping jokes about the Best Actor award, but I just wanted to go home.
One more day. Just one more day, and I'm on a plane home.
With that thought, I smiled my way across the red carpet. In all the chaos, Director Yoon trotted along at my heels, and we took our assigned seats.
Every time the presenter announced a winner, thunderous cheers erupted through the hall. Most of the people walking up to accept their awards were faces I didn't recognize. I'd spent all my viewing hours on Korean films and dramas, so I honestly knew nothing about foreign actors.
Still, I clapped diligently, silently willing the ceremony to end already.
Which is why, when a vaguely familiar name was called as the winner of the long-awaited Best Actor award, I stood and applauded as if it were somebody else's business entirely.
"You lucky bastard, congratulations! What did I tell you!"
"…?"
I'd only stood up because everyone else did, and suddenly Director Yoon was hugging me. I was wondering what was wrong with this man now when I spotted the cameras devouring my face up close—and something finally clicked as off.
Wait, what?
"Go on up. Go get your award."
Still failing to grasp the situation, I let Director Yoon shove me toward the stage. Strangers shook my hand and offered their congratulations. In a daze, I let myself be herded along, and when I lifted my head, I was somehow already standing under the stage lights.
"……"
What is happening?
All I could do was blink stupidly. Then the presenter handed me a trophy and a single flower. I received them just as stupidly.
Pull yourself together.
No, how am I supposed to pull myself together when I don't even know what's going on?
Had I actually just won Best Actor? Really?
Words in an unfamiliar language were engraved on the trophy.
Prix d'interprétation masculine.
……What is this?
Since I clearly couldn't keep standing there like a statue, I opened my mouth. "Hello. I'm Lee Yeonjae."
The moment I mumbled the greeting, my interpreter was there beside me—when had he even come up? The man took the microphone and translated.
A torrent of thoughts raced through my head in those few seconds. I closed my eyes briefly.
What am I supposed to say?
I never expected to win? I don't know if I deserve this? Why did you give it to me? Ah, for god's sake, get a grip.
My thoughts churned so violently it felt like my skull might burst open.
Hah.
I let out a short breath and opened my eyes again. The interpreter returning to his spot seemed to move in slow motion. Straining to keep my vision as clear as possible, I stepped up to the microphone.
"First, I'd like to thank everyone who helped bring this film into the world."
I offered my gratitude, naming the production company's CEO, my fellow actors, the crew, Director Yoon, my agency, Jinbae, and my fans. The interpreter, apparently anticipating the content, carried the translation smoothly along.
As time passed, my head grew calm. There was no need to flounder over what to say.
I just have to say what I came here to say.
Whatever this award was, I hadn't won it because I was brilliant. I'd simply seized a chance to publicly thank the people who made it possible for me to shine on screen.
Which reminds me—there's one more person I should mention.
I stepped back to the microphone and looked the cameras straight in the lens. "There's an actor who matched his every breath to mine so that I could portray two characters. Senior Nam. In. Hoo. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. This award… belongs to the two of us together."
I broke the name apart syllable by syllable on purpose, hoping the interpreter would do his name justice. Perhaps those days of breathing in sync hadn't been a complete waste after all—the interpreter smiled and translated, preserving my intent perfectly.
Nothing left to say now.
I hesitated over how to close, and then a sentence I'd practiced out of sheer boredom a few days ago flashed through my mind. Before I could think twice, my mouth was already at the microphone.
"(Bonne soirée.)"
As I stepped back with a smile, the interpreter stared at me, stunned. I gave a light bow and came down from the stage.
"What was that?? You speak French??"
I shook my head at the interpreter, who was scrambling to keep up with me. "Of course not. I just memorized a few basic phrases."
"No, but your pronunciation… Did you take private lessons?"
When I said I'd simply practiced on my own, doubtful eyes bored into me. Stare all you want—it's the truth.
Who teaches themselves French?
Some people could pull it off, I supposed, but I definitely wasn't one of them. During my long stretch of English study, I'd idly flipped through some French out of boredom, and that was territory no human being should be asked to navigate. All I'd managed, out of pure stubbornness, was memorizing a few sentences. Who knew I'd end up using them like this?
"Nobody taught you, and your pronunciation is that flawless?"
Why was this guy being so over the top? "It was just a short line."
"It's not about the length—how did you possibly get the pronunciation—"
"Interpreter-nim. Can we talk about this later?"
I soothed the excessively excited man for now. What was with him?
Once I returned quietly to my seat, trophy cradled in my arms, Director Yoon greeted me warmly. Then, in a whisper too soft for anyone else to hear, he leaned in.
"What did you say earlier? Bon soo-ah-hae? That was French, right?"
"Yes. It means 'have a good evening.'"
"This kid's got style. When did you learn French?"
Learn it? Please. I memorized a few sentences, that's all.
I should've just said thank you.
I'd only done it to play to the moment, and now look at the mess. A flicker of regret crossed my mind—and by the time the ceremony ended and the interpreter's endless interrogation began in earnest, that regret had turned completely sincere.
"No, sir, I'm not bringing this up for nothing. This is the perfect chance for you to learn properly. Your pronunciation earlier was truly perfect. I majored in French—I would never say someone's good at it as a lie."
"I understand. It was my mistake, so please, just stop."
Jinbae finally hauled the interpreter—who was insisting I study French seriously starting now—away.
"Sir! I really will teach you properly!"
The interpreter kept shouting even as the other staff dragged him off. I watched him go with a hollow laugh and murmured under my breath.
Bonne soirée.
On the way back to my hotel room.
Inside the elevator, I gazed absently at the trophy in my hands. "I really did win an award, huh."
Did that even make sense? It still hadn't sunk in. More than joy or happiness, I just felt… dazed.
As I stared at the trophy like a cloud I'd somehow caught in my hand, Jinbae answered quietly.
"……I think today might be the happiest day of my life."
My head snapped up at the faintly damp note in his voice. Unless I was imagining it, real tears were welling in his gentle eyes. What the—
"Wha—why are you crying?"
"I know you don't attach much meaning to this award, sir. But still, I just… I can't help feeling overwhelmed…. I'm sorry. I'm making too big a deal of—"
He was worried it would burden me, apparently, gritting his teeth to hold back the tears. I was speechless. Honestly, it was a little funny too, but my surprise was the bigger emotion, so I hurried to stop him.
"What are you talking about? Of course it means something to me too."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"What kind of meaning?"
I hesitated for a moment under those glistening eyes before giving a hopelessly dumb answer. "Because you're happy about it…?"
"……"
It didn't seem like a terrible answer, but apparently it was. The wounded look he gave me—as if to say, how could you say that in front of the trophy?—dragged a sigh out of me.
Anyone walking by would think he gave birth to that thing.
Exasperated, but wanting to calm him down, I patted his arm and told him not to cry.
Though honestly, he's right—I don't feel anything particularly grand about it.
Jinbae had hit the nail on the head. I'd won the award, but no real impression came with it. I just… won an award. That was the extent of it.
"Are you sure you won't attend the after-party?"
"Not interested. Oh—you can go by yourself if you want. I'll stay quietly in my room."
"No, thank you. If you're not going, sir, neither am I."
This time it wasn't the trophy he'd given birth to—it was me, apparently. I laughed at how Jinbae carried on.
Either way, winning an award wasn't something to feel bad about.
And my turning down Director Yoon's invitation to hit the party together—good chance to network, kid!—had nothing to do with my mood, either.
If I had to pin it on something, it came down to stamina.
I'm exhausted.
A whole day spent in front of cameras and endless crowds had left my whole body stiff and aching. But if I could board a plane this very second, I'd have pushed through the fatigue and gotten on it anyway.
That's how badly I wanted to go home to Korea.
Right now, that longing was so overwhelming that winning an award felt almost incidental.
Still, did I really need to hear this?
"(Hey. You arrogant little punk.)"
At the words that greeted us the moment we stepped into the hotel corridor, I turned around slowly.
"(You just won that award and THAT'S your reaction? Seriously? I figured you were playing it cool and would geek out about it later, but that's really all you've got? Are you kidding me?)"
"……"
Now what did this kid want?
A blond boy with blue eyes was glaring at me, his face twisted with anger. Could nobody let me get through a single day in peace? I was genuinely getting tired of this.
"(What, cat got your tongue? Can't you speak English at all? Don't tell me you can't even understand—)"
"Hey."
I cut through the flood of words. Too loud.
"If you want to have a conversation, slow down."
"(…?)"
You talk that fast, obviously I can't keep up.