Happy Birthday, Angae
The script reading took over five hours, and by the time the interviews wrapped up, evening had already settled in.
"You've worked hard, actor-nim."
"Yes…."
I leaned against Jinbae-hyung, who was gently massaging my shoulders. Exhausting.
"They said the team dinner can wait until next time, so shall we head straight home?"
"What about Junghyun-hyung?"
"He has a photo shoot in the early morning, so I believe he'll be moving separately."
Junghyun-hyung was such a busy man that even living in the same house, it was hard to catch so much as a glimpse of him.
Still, once filming starts, I'll be seeing him often enough.
The name of the character I played in Killing Horn was 'Horn'.
At first, I'd wondered how I was supposed to bring that cringe-worthy name to life, but once I actually got my hands on the script, it didn't feel nearly as embarrassing as I'd expected.
After all, most of the cast never called the protagonist by his name to begin with.
A psychic, huh.
Horn was a boy born with powers no human should ever possess.
Having grown up inside a facility since he was young, he was a boy filled with nothing but vague, secondhand fantasies about the outside world.
And the drama opens with Horn leaving the facility for the very first time to carry out his first mission.
In other words, the action starts right from the opening.
There was still plenty of time before filming began, so I'd decided to go to the Action School every day until then.
My days settled into a rhythm of running lines with Junghyun-hyung and practicing scenes with the other actors at the school.
School life was much the same.
"Yeonjae. PE is next. Let's change."
"Yeah."
At Seo Jio's words, I grabbed my gym clothes and answered half-distracted.
It's quiet.
Ever since Baek Seojin transferred out, school had become a great deal quieter.
And once again today, I came face to face with Noh Bihyuk not in person, but in text.
Daily life without that noisy punk was downright dull.
The quieter things got, the more often the three of us — Seong Ijun, Seo Jio, and I — ended up meeting up.
Thankfully, Seo Jio never resorted to buttering up Seong Ijun or lobbing cryptic, unsettling remarks at him the way he did with me.
Sometimes the silence around me grew so thin it left a hollow ache, but whenever I saw Seong Ijun chattering away with that thrilled look on his face, my mood lifted considerably.
And then, before I knew it, this day on the calendar rolled around too.
"Yeonjae. Let's try on that suit next."
"Noona, please, have mercy on me."
August — the month when the summer sun burned at its most merciless.
It was also the month when Korea's most famous film awards ceremony took place.
And for the past several days, I had been commuting to my stylist's office.
"There's a good boy. Up you come. Aigoo, such a good boy~."
Under the stylist's coaxing, I hauled myself back onto my feet, my face halfway to death.
What number is this one?
After the tenth, I'd lost count.
Watching the stylist work with unusual earnestness today, I asked her seriously.
"Noona. You didn't go this hard picking clothes even when we went to Cannes."
"Back then I didn't know you'd be walking off with Best Actor."
The stylist grabbed the next outfit and answered without looking up.
"This is your first awards ceremony since winning Best Actor. And on top of that, it's your very first time attending a Korean one. You're going to get disrespected at some event crawling with other celebrities? I can't even picture it without my blood boiling. I will find you the best fit there is if it kills me."
Who on earth was going to disrespect me?
I opened my mouth to say that most people probably wouldn't care in the first place, then swallowed it.
One look into those crazed eyes and the words simply wouldn't come.
…I should conserve my energy for something other than complaining.
And so, over several days, I tried on suit after suit from brand after brand, until two finalists remained.
"Yeonjae. What do you think? Which one looks better to you?"
"I—"
"If you say they both look fine, I'm scolding you."
"……"
With all escape routes sealed off, I quietly turned my eyes away.
They look identical to me.
Just because I had no interest in fashion didn't mean I looked down on the field.
Purely and simply, I was blind to it.
What are experts for, anyway?
Which is to say, I would have gladly left the whole decision to the expert in front of me — but with no other choice, I picked the less flashy of the two.
"That one."
"Oh my, that's the brand my mentor just launched. Oh my, oh my — he's going to be thrilled."
Her mentor?
A slight crease formed between my brows.
"You mean… that man I ran into a few months ago? Blond, blue-eyed—"
"Yeah, that's the—"
"Then I'll take the other one, not this."
The moment I saw the stylist nod, I switched my pick.
Her face went blank.
"Why all of a sudden?"
I considered cooking up an excuse, then just told the truth.
"I met his son in France. He said some rude things to me. So I'm not particularly drawn to the brand."
"Rude things? Like what?"
"He said I didn't deserve to win Best Actor."
"……"
I said it deliberately, carelessly, like it hardly mattered.
In an instant, a dead silence filled the office.
Everyone was staring at me — and the hottest gaze of all belonged to the stylist.
"…When you say mentor's son, you mean Noah, right? That little s— no. He said that to you? Him?"
"Yes. Jinbae-hyung heard it too."
Sorry, hyung.
At the sudden drop of his name, Jinbae-hyung's eyes went round as saucers — but I had never needed an ally more. I wanted nothing to do with that rich family, in any form whatsoever.
Only after catching Jinbae-hyung's confirming nod did the stylist draw a long, seething breath, her face cycling through red and blue.
And then she exploded.
"That insane little brat?!!!!"
Her colossal rage did.
Her volume made my whole body flinch for a moment.
"Noona, calm—"
"What did that lunatic just say? Is he out of his mind?? And Alex — that piece of work can't even raise his own son properly, and he goes and lets him talk to MY actor like that?!"
The stylist boldly revoked her mentor's title on the spot.
So that guy's name is Alex, huh.
Useless information.
I wiped it from my mind and set about soothing the stylist.
"Noona, it's fine."
"It is NOT fine!!"
"You're right. It's not fine. But right now, it really is fine. And if I don't wear that suit, I'd imagine it'll get even finer."
Eyes bulging, the stylist snapped that this was obvious and why was I saying it out loud.
Watching her order an employee to haul that suit out and burn it on the spot, I idly rubbed my ear.
Somehow, I didn't feel bad at all. A strange, warm flutter tickled the edges of my ears.
"Ugh, this is making me furious. Fine — keep the remaining ones as backups, and let's pull a few more."
"……"
Cancel that.
The air chilled so fast I could feel my blood draining.
Face pale, I rushed to talk her down.
"Noona, I'm really fine—"
"Quiet."
The stylist's fury raged on for hours afterward.
And so, after much trial and error, the suit I would wear three days later was finally decided.
Those three days felt like three years.
"Wow, our Yeonjae looks incredible."
On the day of the ceremony, Junghyun-hyung — whom I hadn't seen in ages — came over smiling.
"Thank you…."
"What's this? Your eyes have no focus. You okay?"
I was not okay.
After brushing Junghyun-hyung off with some excuse, I closed my eyes.
I want to go home.
Because of the ceremony, I'd been up since the crack of dawn — massage, makeup, hair, the works.
And in the middle of all that, they'd had me soak in a half-bath because I needed "more color in my cheeks."
After a full day of it, I was completely drained — and the show hadn't even started yet.
This really is no joke.
I hadn't attended that many awards ceremonies, but it was the impression I got every single time.
"Hyung, I think ceremonies just aren't my constitution…."
"Haha! Me neither. Hang in there a little longer and we'll go home together."
Junghyun-hyung laughed and gave my cheek a light pinch.
It didn't hurt, but the moment I saw my makeup artist's expression shift, he hastily pulled his hand back.
"Hm? What?"
"The makeup, hyung."
"Oh, sorry. Aigoo, now they'll have to redo it because of me. I'm sorry."
"No, no, it's fine!"
When the makeup artist answered him with a smile and then came over to me, I zoned out as something was dabbed over my face.
When does this end?
I knew that for some people, simply attending a place like this was a dream.
Everything I enjoyed without a second thought might be someone else's lifelong wish.
Still, being uncomfortable doesn't just stop because of that.
I was the kind of person who found solo acting practice more fun than attending events like this.
Maybe that blond kid had a point — maybe my indifference toward trophies was a deception of some kind. But honestly…
What business is that of mine?
It wasn't as if I flaunted it on the outside. As long as I didn't make anyone feel bad, there was no reason to feel guilty over what I did or didn't feel.
In other words, my emotions were mine alone — territory no one else got a vote in.
These were my feelings. Right now I was uncomfortable and tired — of my hair cemented down with wax, of the flashy suit fitted to every inch of my body, all of it.
But it wasn't unbearable.
"Actor-nim. Look here."
"Hyung, you've taken plenty of photos already."
"Those were for your socials. These are for the fan cafe."
"Ah. Then hand me a mirror."
The moment Jinbae-hyung finished speaking, I popped up from my seat.
I thanked the staff member who fetched a mirror instantly and checked for any stray specks or anything less than spotless.
"Yeonjae, you look so cool today. Aigoo, adorable."
"Handsome, actor-nim! One more shot from a different angle!"
"Forgive me, but please just take them quickly."
The endless stream of compliments from these hyungs was more than enough to make me blush.
…Well, if the fans love it.
I'd heard plenty of fans adored the suit I'd worn at Cannes.
In fact, I'd seen all the photos and videos uploaded to the fan cafe myself.
If that's enough for them, it's enough for me.
Strangely enough, I meant it.
The moment I posted the photo Jinbae-hyung had taken to the fan cafe, comments came flooding in.
As if the words took after their writers, each and every one of them was utterly endearing.
Reading those sweet-natured words, the fatigue I'd been carrying melted away in an instant, as if it had never existed.
"Actor-nim! It's time to head out."
"Yes."
Since I'd posted in a rush from my phone, the message was shorter than usual, which nagged at me — but there was nothing to be done.
I found myself standing on the red carpet before I knew it, and the ceremony began.
And I won.
"The highly anticipated Best Actor award goes to… actor Lee Yeonjae of Twins! Congratulations!"
Honestly, since I'd been briefed the day before, it didn't come as a surprise.
I greeted the people seated around me with proper courtesy, then walked up onto the stage.
"Hello. I'm Lee Yeonjae."
It was the first time I'd ever won a film award here in Korea.
I gave my thanks to Director Yoon and the staff, my fellow actors, and the fans who had made this honor possible.
Under normal circumstances, I would have said just that much and stepped down…
But today, I had something more to say.
"And finally, I'd like to borrow this stage for a private message."
I looked straight into the camera facing me head-on.
The camera's clear lens felt strangely vivid today. Maybe it was the bright lights, but it looked almost like a human eye.
"Angae."
The fleeting image of myself reflected in the camera looked unfamiliar.
Even without a mirror, I could feel that I was smiling.
I can finally say this to you.
As I gazed at the soft glow of the lights, hazy as fog, the corners of my mouth lifted.
"…Happy birthday."
Today was August 20th.
The birthday Angae had chosen for itself — and the day we first met.