The Loud Blonde and the 13-Hour Flight
I swallowed a sigh at the sight of his brow, knotted so tightly it looked like he'd heard something utterly incomprehensible.
Choosing each English word one by one in my head, I opened my mouth.
"Speak slowly. My English isn't good, so it's hard to follow you."
"Ha. Unbelievable. Are you serious right now? You can't even speak English—aren't you embarrassed to have accepted that award?"
What did my English skills have to do with the award?
When I just stared at him blankly, too baffled to respond, he grew even more irritated and started barking at me.
At the same time, he fired off a rapid burst of words, half of which went right over my head. I had told him to slow down.
I figured he was just some kid who wanted to pick a fight with somebody, anyone, so I quietly let him vent for a good long while.
Then the boy, whose face had gone beet red from all his shouting, suddenly exploded.
"Ugh, why aren't you saying anything!"
You're the one who ripped into me for not speaking English.
Exasperated beyond words, I let out a sigh.
"I told you. My English isn't good. If you talk that fast, I can't understand you."
"It's not like I was rapping. If you can't catch that, there's something wrong with your ears. Do you really think you deserved that award?"
Why did this kid keep going on and on about the award?
Does he want the trophy or something?
Frankly, I was tempted to just hand it over and be done with it.
But then I remembered he'd be needing it—that I was supposed to pose for photos with the trophy in front of the press once I landed in Korea—so I held my tongue.
Ugh, I'm exhausted.
I no longer had the energy to deal with him.
Whether I answered or not, his tirade rolled on without end.
"Don't get the wrong idea. Honestly, someone other than you should have won."
So I said just one thing.
"Are you a racist?"
"...! Wh-what did you just say! What is wrong with you!!"
His voice shot up several decibels, as if to say the games were over.
"You've been mocking me for my English this whole time. Isn't that because I'm Asian?"
"Criticizing your English and racism are two different things! Take that back right now!"
The boy threw a fit, as though he'd just suffered an unbearable insult.
Fascinating.
I'd heard that this was the one thing you should say whenever a foreigner picked a fight with you. It really was a direct hit.
Anyway, it was finally time to say my goodbyes.
Furrowing my brow, I asked:
"Where do you think you are right now?"
"What?"
"I said, where are we."
When I asked without bothering to hide my annoyance, the boy flinched.
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
"We're in France. If you'd complained about me not speaking French, that I could understand. Your English and my Korean are exactly the same here—both of them are foreign languages."
Of course, I knew English was the world's lingua franca, but whatever—it was still France.
Why on earth did two foreigners need to work each other up into a lather like this?
I had plenty more to say, but the limits of my vocabulary kept the words from flowing smoothly.
This is why people need an education.
For the first time in a long while, I genuinely wished I were better at English.
"You little—!"
When I looked at him like he was a lost cause, the boy seemed to choke up and lunged straight at me.
At the same instant, Jinbae stepped in front of me.
In the blink of an eye, my entire field of vision was filled with the black of a suit.
It bore repeating: this man really, truly was enormous.
"Step back, please."
"And who the hell are you!!"
"..."
Jinbae said nothing at all.
The silence stretched on.
I couldn't see a thing, but I could hear it—the shuffle of footsteps as the boy backed away, the carpet dragging beneath them.
I wonder what kind of face he's making right now.
I was just thinking I'd like to see Jinbae's expression when a new voice appeared.
"There you are, my little troublemaker. What are you doing here?"
"Dad!!"
The boy bolted straight toward it.
The owner of the new voice was a grown man with the same blond hair and blue eyes as the kid.
And his face was familiar.
"Oh? If it isn't Cute Boy?"
"..."
The man was the foreigner I'd seen at the stylist's office.
It was genuinely hard to believe.
Wow. So a person could actually get this tired.
"This is my son, Noah. Sounds like you two have already met."
Oh, we'd greeted each other plenty. Excessively, even.
When I silently stared at the boy, he ducked behind the man.
I greeted him first, at least.
"Hello. It's been a while."
"Oh. So you can do English after all. That was better than when you spoke in your own language. How about you keep talking in English from now on?"
"..."
Now I saw where he'd learned it. Straight from his father. It all made sense at last.
When I just looked at him quietly, the man laughed.
"I told you before, didn't I? My son's a fan of yours. Would you sign something for him?"
"...! Dad!!"
In an instant, the boy's face drained white.
"What? Why?"
"Shut up! Why would I be a fan of that guy!"
"What are you talking about, Noah? You've spent months watching nothing but dramas with Cute Boy in them. The day you watched Twins, you couldn't even sleep—"
"Stop talking! Hey! My dad's lying! Don't believe him!"
I get it, so please stop screaming.
My ears felt like they might start bleeding.
On top of everything else, this Noah kid or whoever he was kept shrieking at full volume, and it rang through my skull.
"...Well, in any case, it was nice meeting you. I'll head in first."
There was no need to keep being polite to rude people.
When I grabbed the tail end of Jinbae's suit jacket, his huge hand immediately came around to shield my back.
The man called something after us, but I ignored it and stepped into the room.
"Are you all right, Actor Lee?"
"No."
I was so tired. When I pressed hard at my temples, Jinbae gave my shoulder a gentle pat.
"Go wash up, and I'll give you a massage."
"Okay..."
I shuffled into the bathroom.
Even under scalding hot water, I didn't feel any cleaner—somehow I felt dirtier.
Why are there so many rude people in the world?
The unpleasant feeling refused to lift as quickly as I'd hoped.
Not wanting to sour Jinbae's mood on my account, I lingered in the bathroom for a long time.
Let's not let it show, as much as possible.
When I judged myself calm enough, I drew in a deep breath and opened the door.
And when I stepped back into the room, I started seeing things.
"There's my genius actor~! You've been through so much."
Maybe I really was exhausted.
Apparently I was now hallucinating Jung Hyun sitting on the bed.
I didn't answer and went about tidying my clothes, until a flustered voice rang out.
"Yeonjae?"
"...?"
What.
When I turned my head again, Jung Hyun was still there.
I scrubbed hard at my eyes.
"Hey, hey—you'll hurt your eyes rubbing like that. What's wrong? Are you sick somewhere?"
"...Is that really you, Jung Hyun-hyung?"
"Haha. Who else were you hoping for?"
I quietly watched the soft creases forming at the corners of his eyes, then took a step forward.
A few steps closer, I reached out my hand—and felt solid, firm warmth. He was real.
"But... hyung, what are you... doing here?"
It still didn't feel real.
When I finally managed the question, he laughed and complained that I was being cruel.
"I flew thirteen hours to see you, and that's all the reaction I get?"
"Ah... I'm sorry."
"I'm kidding. Your face has taken a beating while I was gone, though. Jinbae told me you ran into some strange person in the hallway earlier?"
His hand continued gently stroking my hair.
I stayed still for a long moment, then asked again.
"Is it really you, Jung Hyun-hyung?"
"...Huh?"
He paused for a beat, then smiled and took my cheek in his hand.
"Yes. It's your Jung Hyun-hyung."
"..."
"I missed you so much, you know. Didn't you miss me at all?"
At the teasing question, I answered slowly.
"Of course... I missed you."
Was that even a question?
Wait, though—how had a man that busy gotten all the way here?
"Hyung, aren't you busy with filming right now?"
"I was. But something fell through and I got two days off. I hopped on a plane the second I heard the news."
A round trip between France and Korea took more than a full day.
He'd burned through half of a precious vacation—all just for me?
As I stared at him, wondering if any of this actually made sense, he took my face in his hands.
Gentle eyes met mine.
"Congratulations on Best Actor, Yeonjae."
"..."
"Jinbae stepped out to grab some lemonade. He'll be back soon. It's nothing fancy, but we'll have a little party, just us—Ugh."
Jung Hyun made a strangled grunt and stopped mid-sentence.
Because I had thrown myself straight at him.
After a moment of surprise, he laughed—ha ha—and wrapped his arms around me.
"Our Yeonjae really has grown since the first time we met. You fill my arms perfectly now."
"I wasn't exactly tiny back then, you know."
"Oh, right~ I know. Our Yeonjae's the tallest of them all."
The way he coddled me like a toddler was beyond absurd.
Which meant that this laugh of his was, without a doubt, an empty one.
My mouth, beyond any control, kept climbing higher and higher without end.
"Just you wait. I'm going to be taller than you someday."
"Mm~ I'd rather you didn't, actually. Do you think you could grow nice and slowly?"
At the voice of genuine regret, I asked how tall he even was.
"Me? Probably about 187?"
"..."
When he said he hadn't measured in ages and couldn't remember exactly, I quietly shut my mouth.
Still a long, long way to go.
Why was it that everyone around me was so tall?
Even as a joke, it was getting hard to claim I'd ever be taller than him.
When I fell silent, Jung Hyun laughed even harder, as though that alone was funny to him.
Every time he laughed, the body pressed against mine shook faintly.
That little tremor was warm and soft.
"What? Is he out of his mind?"
Director Yoon bellowed, his face dark as a thundercloud.
Fortunately, Jinbae had covered my ears in time, so it wasn't too deafening.
Thus began Director Yoon's tirade, and it carried on for quite a while.
"Foreign bastards and their bottomless arrogance. I saw all kinds at the party yesterday, let me tell you. There are far too many disrespectful punks in this world."
"Director, please calm down and finish your food."
"How am I supposed to calm down?! How did you sit there and listen to that? What—you didn't deserve the award? What kind of lunatic says that to someone he's just met!"
Watching Director Yoon erupt, I said quietly:
"Still, it was better than when you first met me and asked about my parents abandoning me."
"..."
Director Yoon meekly picked up his spoon.
And thanks to that, a peaceful breakfast followed at last. Finally.
"...I'm sorry."
Only after a long stretch of silence did Director Yoon murmur those words.
"No. It's all in the past—I'm the one who's sorry for bringing it up again."
"Don't apologize. Even if you told me that a few hundred more times, I'd have nothing to say..."
There was no need to go that far.
Watching him stir his soup with a pale face, I let out a small laugh.
"I understand. But really, you don't have to apologize anymore."
Better to change the subject, honestly.
"If you'd come a little earlier, you could have seen Jung Hyun-hyung too."
"I drank so much yesterday it took me half the morning to even come to. Honestly, I'm still a wreck from the hangover."
Jung Hyun had left the moment dawn broke because of his flight.
Our brief conversation, the three of us with Jinbae, had swept the unpleasant feeling away as if it had never existed.
Even after finishing the meal with Director Yoon, I stayed holed up in my room the whole day.
I was afraid that if I went outside, I might run into rude people again.
"Actor Lee. They say the car's waiting in the lobby."
"Okay."
The moment Jinbae spoke, I was on my feet.
I'd been dressed and ready for ages.
Finally. Home. To Korea.
Truthfully, I wanted to go home so badly I thought I might lose my mind.
I had seen enough of unfamiliar places and unfamiliar faces to last me a lifetime.
I'd worried I might bump into the people I'd met yesterday, but thankfully I made it onto the plane without incident.
I gazed out the window as the plane rose slowly into the sky.
This was the end of the long, long Cannes Film Festival.
By the time Lee Yeonjae had all but forgotten that he'd won an award at all, Korea had descended into chaos.