The Question That Wasn't About Romance
The actor Lee Jeonghyeon was twenty-nine this year. A whole sixteen years older than me.
So when I asked, “Are you, by any chance, interested in me?” the question was obviously one of age, not of gender.
Whether or not Actor Lee Jeonghyeon felt attraction toward men wasn't something I cared to know, and it wasn't my business to care.
What I wanted to know was whether he was the kind of person willing to offer financial help to a child while expecting something unspeakable in return.
That such people existed in larger numbers than one might think was something I already knew. And I also knew that at first, they concealed those intentions when they approached.
Exactly the way Actor Lee Jeonghyeon was doing right now.
“At first I thought I was overthinking it,” the book had said. People who suddenly turned sugary-sweet toward a child, for no reason other than the child's youth, cropped up from time to time.
And above all, it struck me as odd that someone as accomplished as Lee Jeonghyeon—someone who lacked for nothing—would go out of his way for me, of all people.
But according to what I'd read, mental disorders like pedophilia couldn't be identified by outward appearance. So I couldn't let my guard down. I sincerely hoped it wasn't the case, but checking in advance was better than suspecting alone, saying nothing, and letting something terrible happen later.
And I was well aware that by most people's standards, my looks fell on the decent side of the scale. If a person who would demand unspeakable things from a child truly existed, there was a high probability that I could qualify as a target.
The phone was one thing, but offering to cover acting academy tuition too? No matter how I looked at it, that was strange. At this point, this was not a proposal that could be lightly brushed off as kindness.
Since it was difficult to ask outright, “Are you, by any chance, trash?” I'd phrased it in a roundabout way—but judging by those enormous, widening eyes, the message had clearly gotten through.
“…What?”
Actor Lee Jeonghyeon stared at me, utterly vacant, with a completely dumbfounded expression.
“Th-that is, what you're saying is…”
“If I offended you, I'm sorry.”
“No…, wow. Okay. Yeah. I suppose it could look that way.”
He couldn't string a sentence together for a long while, opening his mouth and closing it over and over.
So… he wasn't, apparently?
The world being as dangerous a place as it was, it was a perfectly reasonable suspicion to hold—but if his intentions had been innocent, it was a misunderstanding more than insulting enough to sour anyone's mood.
I straightened my back as much as I could and delivered my apology directly.
“I'm sorry. You were being kind to me, and I twisted it into something ugly. The book said that children without a guardian are even more vulnerable to this kind of danger, so—”
“No. Don't apologize, Yeonjae. You're right. I behaved in a way that could be misread.”
I was slowly picking my words, checking whether I was using the appropriate ones, when Actor Lee Jeonghyeon hurriedly cut in.
“Thank God you're smart. Truly. If I had actually been harboring bad intentions… right, it could easily have happened. You handled that well.”
Then he added that he was sorry for giving me the wrong impression, and that I could rest assured there were no strange motives whatsoever.
I could see a cold sweat breaking out across his face in an instant, and that settled it—he really wasn't—so I apologized in turn for having misunderstood him.
And so the two of us volleyed apologies back and forth like a ping-pong match until a brief silence finally settled between us.
Actor Lee Jeonghyeon let out a long, deep breath and spoke.
“Honestly, watching you act was a shock. In the best possible way, of course.”
“My acting?”
“Yeah. I guess every actor feels this way, but I'm especially fond of people who act well. I've never seen anyone as good as you, so I suppose I couldn't help but latch on. Sorry about that.”
“No, it's fine. You can stop apologizing now.”
He seemed genuinely startled by my words and looked ready to apologize again, so I shook my head quickly.
It took several more minutes before Actor Lee Jeonghyeon finally calmed down.
With a much more relaxed expression, he sipped at his remaining coffee and smiled gently at me.
“You really handled that well, Yeonjae. How did you even come up with that? Not that I lacked vigilance—it's just hard to imagine thinking that way at your age.”
“The orphanage director gives us a lesson on this subject every year. And I've read about it in books on my own, too.”
“Your director is a wise woman. Maybe I should sit in on one of those lessons myself.”
Declaring this his very last apology, Actor Lee Jeonghyeon ordered me another slice of the blueberry rice cake he'd had at the start.
He was happily savoring its chewy texture all over again when I felt a cautious gaze on me from across the table.
“Yeonjae, but you really have no thoughts about acting?”
“No. I haven't thought about it, particularly.”
“Why not start thinking about it now? I think you're genuinely talented.”
His tone was careful, deliberately measured, clearly trying not to pressure me—so I answered without any weight on my shoulders.
“Thank you for the compliment. But I never considered what I did to be acting in the first place.”
“Really? Then what was it?”
“More than acting… imitation? I was just copying other kids, that's all.”
“Yeonjae, you haven't watched the scenes you were in, have you?”
When I nodded at the abrupt question, Actor Lee Jeonghyeon slid over to my side of the booth and told me we were watching them right now.
I said I was too young for that; he said it was fine as long as a guardian was present, then promptly pulled up the drama. Left with no room to object, I could only stare at the phone screen.
And the me on that screen… honestly looked a little strange.
It felt like a different person was moving around wearing my face like a mask.
It was alien enough that I caught myself wondering, Huh? Did I really spit out that line?
He looked like an entirely different person no matter how you sliced it, so evaluating was easy.
“Well? What do you think?”
“…It's not terrible.”
“Haha! See? Look at that—I told you you're good.”
Actor Lee Jeonghyeon burst out laughing, then rewound the scene and played my part again.
Your eyes trembled nicely here, that slurred delivery worked well there—he offered comment after granular comment, and each one came close to what I'd already concluded myself.
Good thing he's not at the point of being a nuisance yet.
Over the winter break, for testing purposes, I had watched as many films and dramas as I could possibly manage within my means.
It was a period that taught me two things: there really are so many actors who can act, and being an actor doesn't automatically mean being good at acting.
Some performers broadcast their hyper-awareness of the camera with every inch of their bodies, while others wore the same fixed expression no matter which character they played.
“Isn't it really natural? It's hard to act naturally with a camera sitting right in front of you like this.”
“Yes, it does look natural.”
It felt awkward to declare my own performance good, but fact was fact.
Compared to the actors I'd just cited as examples, my performance was far more natural, and my enunciation was crisp.
Judging purely as a viewer, it was decent enough… but could this really be called acting?
“Hyung, wouldn't you say this is good imitation rather than good acting?”
“Really? Then in your mind, what's the difference between imitation and acting?”
“Imitation is just that—copying something, nothing more. Acting is… well. It feels like a higher-order act than imitation.”
Unable to pin down a firm definition, I let the sentence trail off without meaning to.
Actor Lee Jeonghyeon, who had been listening in silence, broke into a grin.
“You really love acting, don't you?”
“Sorry?”
“Just from the way you talk about it, you seem to think acting is something sacred and magnificent.”
“…Isn't it?”
The instant the words left my mouth, Actor Lee Jeonghyeon exploded into laughter, as if he'd been waiting for exactly that.
Watching him laugh so heartily was delightful, honestly. It looked fun. But… why was he laughing?
As I glowered at him in lingering suspicion, it took a long moment before he wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and finally spoke.
“Yeonjae. Acting is nothing special.”
“…….”
“Of course, it's a grand thing in its own right. A single film can become the turning point that changes someone's life. Making an audience fully lose themselves in a moment, even just for that moment—that's no easy feat.”
That was true. Actor Lee Jeonghyeon's performances had proven it.
I'd seen only three or four of his works, and even that was enough to understand why so many people adored him.
And now the very man behind those performances was sitting across from me, laughing like a little kid.
“But all of that is result. It's the product you get to see only after the work is finished.”
“…….”
“Up until that moment, what an actor does never changes. You immerse yourself in a character in front of the camera and read the black words written on the script. So—tell me. What's the difference between that and what you did?”
I opened my mouth, wanting to push back on something, anything—but nothing came together, so I closed it again.
Watching me, Actor Lee Jeonghyeon cooed that I was adorable and reached out to pinch my cheek—then jerked back two steps with a dramatic whoops!
That one was unmistakably on purpose.
I sighed and told him not to worry, I wasn't suspicious anymore, he could behave normally—and only then did he smile and give my cheek a light tap.
“If you want to figure out whether what you're doing is imitation or acting, you'll have to do it at least once more, won't you?”
He smiled like a hunter who'd hidden a sweet trap in the underbrush—sly enough that I should have balked. And yet, honestly? It was tempting.
Besides, thanks to the Misfortune Factor, I'd been planning to learn how to sink into a character anyway.
I had no idea why Actor Lee Jeonghyeon was taking this so seriously… but after a moment of deliberation, I nodded obediently.
“Okay. Fair enough. I'll give it a try.”
“Yes!”
“The academy feels like a bit much, though. If it's not too much trouble, I'd rather learn from you, hyung—would you really have the time?”
“Of course. I'm done with my busy stretch now. Do you know Director Kim Min-seok? I heard he's starting a period drama soon, and it sounds like he's casting child roles. For today, let's just submit your application.”
“I'm sorry—what?”
What on earth was he talking about now?
When I asked him to repeat himself, half convinced I'd misheard, Actor Lee Jeonghyeon smiled with the serenity of a man announcing the weather.
“You're not disappointed, are you? Even I can't exactly pull strings and tell them to cast you. But I can help you fill out the application.”
“No—that's not what I meant. I need to learn to act first.”
“Mm. Nothing teaches faster than doing it for real.”
I was so flabbergasted that words simply failed me.
He had clearly watched my speechless reaction, and yet Actor Lee Jeonghyeon stubbornly pretended not to notice, rising from his seat and announcing it was time to go.
“Hyung, that's really going too far—”
“Yeonjae, you know you have to get past the paperwork stage before you can even audition, right? Worry about the rest after that. It won't be too late.”
…He had a point.
Ever since that moment, everything had been moving as though I'd been caught in some kind of spell, and my head was still spinning—but nothing he'd said was wrong.
Shoving down the uneasy feeling, I sighed and nodded.
“Haah… okay. Fine.”
“Good. Now come on, let's go write that application. We should get back before sundown.”
At that, Actor Lee Jeonghyeon nudged me toward the exit as if he'd been waiting for exactly this, and we stepped out of the café.
Listening to the cheerful chime of the doorbell and the mischievous laughter ringing out behind me, I found myself thinking, eh, it'll work out somehow.
Yeah, right. As if I'd actually pass.
“Haah…”
“Hm? What's wrong?”
At the sound of my sigh, Noh Bihyeok looked up from the paper crane he was folding beside me.
He craned his neck over my shoulder, wedging his face in at an awkward angle—clearly dying to know what had made me sigh.
Taking it as permission, I didn't bother to block him, and only then did he flash a toothy grin and glance at the phone screen I'd been staring at.
Then he whipped his head up and shouted:
All while wearing the expression of a boy who'd been betrayed without warning.
“You're auditioning?!”