A Script for Someone I Cannot Speak To

"Actor-nim."

Jinbae hyung spoke up as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Euntaek's been asking you to unblock his number."

"...How does Euntaek hyung even have your number?"

"He asked me for it a while back."

I answered Jinbae hyung without a moment's hesitation.

"Then block him too, hyung."

"Haha!"

Jinbae hyung burst into cheerful laughter.

"What did you two fight about this time?"

"He keeps insisting we go on a trip together. Says we have to go before he debuts."

"You don't like traveling? I'd think the two of you would have plenty of fun once you actually got there."

Jinbae hyung asked teasingly, but I replied in all seriousness.

"Hyung, I have a fan meeting that day."

"...Ah, right. Now that you mention it, there was that."

That? Barely that?

It grated on me that he reduced my fan meeting to a mere "that," but since I couldn't very well snap at Jinbae hyung, I grumbled to myself instead.

'I've been waiting a whole year for it.'

Nobody cared about my birthday.

What mattered was that this was the first time in a year I'd get to see Biyeon in person.

Determined to make it even more perfect than last year, I'd been coordinating with the fan club staff for the past month to prepare.

There was no way I was going ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠off on some trivial little trip right before such an important day.

"Still, this is the first time I've seen you block anyone, actor-nim."

"Euntaek hyung keeps being a nuisance."

I shook my head.

"He told me to choose between the two. Biyeon or family."

And that wasn't all—he kept calling me "baby."

He knew it made my skin crawl, which was exactly why he did it. Infuriating, honestly.

"Haha, and what did you say, actor-nim?"

"Obviously, I picked Biyeon."

The moment those words left my mouth with zero hesitation, Lee Euntaek came lunging at me, and after that—well, it was a complete mess.

Bickering with Lee Euntaek had become such a part of daily life by now that Junghyun hyung, who'd been on the sofa at the time, didn't even bother looking up from his book.

'Thankfully, I was the winner of yesterday's fight.'

Even after I smacked him on the backside and sent him back to the practice room, the phone calls kept coming nonstop, so I blocked him out of sheer annoyance.

"I don't get why he's like this when we already agreed to have dinner together after the fan meeting. That hyung really is petty in the strangest ways."

My grumbling was immediately followed by the sound of Jinbae hyung laughing.

His easy laughter was pleasant to hear.

"We'll get going now. You've fastened your seatbelt?"

"Yes."

Even after my answer, Jinbae hyung gave my seatbelt an habitual tug.

Then, at the sound of the engine starting, I turned my gaze to the window.

'Lee Euntaek has had me in a frenzy since first thing in the morning.'

So much had changed since Christmas.

For one, a contact under the cringe-inducing name "Second Oldest Hyung" had been added to my phone, and the number of baby sheep showing up at our house had multiplied.

It used to be just Noh Bihyeok dropping by once or twice a week, but now Lee Euntaek came over nearly every night. Since he announced he hated going home and would show up at our door at the drop of a hat, every evening became chaos—and because Noh Bihyeok was always trailing right behind him, the chaos doubled.

And then, last week, the variety show I filmed with Seong Yijun, Starting Today, My House Is, aired.

I'd expected only Seong Yijun's fans and Biyeon to watch, but it turned out to be quite the talking point.

For one, the winter scenery of Italy suited the year-end mood wonderfully, and the editing and marketing did their share of the work too.

Deals must have gone back and forth with the rights holders of the film Under the Orange Tree, because the whole concept was modeled after it.

From the main poster down to the OST and the color grading, it was strikingly similar to the movie.

In other words, it was visually beautiful.

Thanks to my orange hair, Seong Yijun's fashion, and a trailer that had already gone viral, the ratings came out surprisingly high.

'They said Killing Horn is in the final stages of editing too, right?'

Killing Horn, which I'd filmed with Junghyun hyung, actor Kim Seokjun, and Seo Jio, was slated for release before the Lunar New Year holidays in February.

Being rated for mature audiences made it hard to call it a drama for the whole family, but with its sleek, satisfying action sequences, demand was guaranteed to be there.

'Time really does fly.'

Every single day was a whirlwind.

Realizing it was about time to choose my next project, I'd increased the stack of scripts I was reading, and my acting practice hours had grown too.

The list of people I had to look after kept lengthening, and in the middle of it all, I still had to squeeze in hospital visits.

It felt like the kind of busyness where I'd wake up only to fall back asleep seconds later—but it was fine.

Because at the end of every day, the Fog was always there with me.

'I wonder what the Fog is doing right now.'

As I stared out the window, my breath fogged up the glass.

I gazed blankly at the scene for a moment, then raised my hand.

Because Jinbae hyung might see, I'd scribbled it in a hurry, so the writing was a mess—but not so messy that it couldn't be read.

As I leaned back from the window, the letters vanished along with the condensation.

It was still a one-way conversation, but it no longer weighed on me the way it used to.

Because I knew that when I fell asleep tonight, the Fog would come running and tell me, I missed you too!

Feeling the corners of my mouth lift, I looked out the window again.

The January air was cold and clear.

And I turned sixteen.

"Actor-nim, we're here. You can get out."

"Thank you."

Jinbae hyung ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠parked with practiced ease and shut off the engine.

When I opened the door and stepped out, an unfamiliar studio came into view.

The interior was as sleek as if it had been built just recently.

'Oh ho.'

So a lot must have changed in the past year.

My guess wasn't unfounded—Jinbae hyung, standing beside me, murmured an explanation.

"I hear Director Jang Junseok's—pardon me, Writer Jang's—play from last year was a big hit. He apparently sold the stage play rights and built this studio with the proceeds."

So that was it.

After thanking him for the information, I stepped inside the studio.

The moment the door opened, a man in a coat, looking impeccably put-together, came toward us.

"Hey. Long time no see."

"Hello, Director-nim."

"Wow, it's been a while since I heard that title too. Just call me Writer-nim."

Writer Jang Junseok waved his hand with a laugh.

He looked far more confident than the man I'd seen around this time last year. His appearance had changed considerably as well.

'How about writing a screenplay with me sometime?'

The man who had once posed that desperate question with an unkempt mane of hair and a filthy trench coat was nowhere to be found.

In his place, all that stood before my eyes was a man with neatly combed hair and what looked like a brand-new coat.

"Would you like some tea first? Manager-nim, can I get you anything as well?"

Watching him host us with such easy grace was a good look on him—though there was still one thing about it that bothered me.

I hesitated over whether to say it, then opened my mouth carefully.

"Writer-nim."

"Hmm?"

"Why do you always dress so thinly?"

"...Huh?"

Seeing the bafflement on Writer Jang Junseok's face, I swallowed a sigh.

Then I pointed at his bare, completely unadorned neck.

"I'm fairly sure I told you several times last year to dress warmly...."

You really never listen.

Muttering that, I unwound the scarf I was wearing.

Before Writer Jang Junseok could get a word of protest out, I wound my scarf around his neck in a neat swirl.

Suddenly wearing a scarf he hadn't asked for, he panicked.

"Whoa—no, no. You don't have to give me this. Hey, why is it that every time you see me, you hand over a scarf?"

"That's exactly why you should dress more warmly, Writer-nim."

"No, I only looked like this because we're indoors—"

Writer Jang Junseok's face turned sheepish.

When I watched him silently try to take the scarf back off, he caught my eye and meekly wound it around his neck again.

"Whew, honestly.... You haven't changed a bit, have you?"

Writer Jang Junseok said it with a look of pure exasperation as he studied me.

"If you give me this, then what about you? You'll be the one freezing now."

"I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠don't get cold easily."

"You're only saying that because your manager is glaring at me."

Really?

I turned my head to find Jinbae hyung wearing his usual expression.

'What was that, exactly?'

After glancing at Jinbae hyung, who beamed at me with a serene smile, I turned my gaze forward again.

"Don't go making up things that never happened."

"...Fine, fine."

Writer Jang Junseok shook his head, then held out a box to me.

"Then you take this."

It was a gift box, the ribbon tied with obvious care.

Curious, I opened it—and inside was a scarf.

The very scarf Writer Jang Junseok had given me alongside his screenplay a year ago.

Back then I'd returned it with the script, and now here it was, coming back to me like this.

"Thank you."

I let out a small laugh as I lifted the scarf out.

Jinbae hyung took it from my hands with perfect naturalness.

The meticulous way he wrapped it around my neck coaxed a laugh right out of me.

"It's lovely on you, actor-nim."

"Doesn't it? Suits him well."

Writer Jang Junseok was wearing a thoroughly contented expression.

Who could have imagined, just a year ago, that a day like this would come?

'Life really is full of things you can never quite predict.'

After I turned down his screenplay, Director Jang Junseok never contacted me again.

Well—he did reach out once to congratulate me when I won Best Actor at the Cannes Film Festival.

I'd waited, trusting his promise that he'd send me the finished screenplay when it was done.

I never imagined he'd left the film industry entirely.

"Have you been doing well these days?"

"Yeah. Turns out I'm a better fit for theater than I thought. When I was making films, it always felt like something was perpetually misaligned—but after writing a stage play, I finally went, 'Ah, so this is it.'"

Writer Jang Junseok chuckled.

His face certainly looked more at ease than ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠last year.

It wasn't simply a matter of newfound financial comfort, either.

That expression was one only a person whose own creation was being loved by audiences could wear. It suited him.

"So, why did you come today? Surely not to take your scarf back."

Writer Jang Junseok set an antique-looking cup down in front of me.

Steam curled up from the tea bag steeping inside it.

"I need your help, Writer-nim."

"My help?"

I nodded and lifted the cup.

There was exactly one reason I'd come looking for Writer Jang Junseok, now firmly established in the theater world.

"I'm going to try writing a screenplay. Would you help me?"

"...You?"

I smiled at his stunned expression.

Since his reaction made it clear he thought he'd misheard, I explained properly—from being cast in the video promoting Korean Sign Language, to being asked to draft its script as a kind of test run.

"I know what I want to write. But putting it into words turns out to be a whole different discipline."

A screenplay isn't just ordinary writing.

It required technical terminology, and I'd have to judge whether every scene could actually be brought to the screen.

For someone like me, who had only ever read scripts and acted in them, it wasn't something I could manage in one go.

"I need a collaborator. And I'd like you to be that person, Writer-nim."

When I said I wanted to try writing a script, Team Leader Woo and Director Choi Jimin of the National Institute of Korean Language had reacted exactly the same way.

A light laugh, and an unenthusiastic, "Well, if that's what you want to do, go ahead."

My pride wasn't wounded. If anything, I considered it the natural reaction.

'But that's one thing, and this is another.'

Wanting to do it well, since I was doing it at all, was a separate matter entirely.

At my words, Writer Jang Junseok hesitated briefly—but then nodded without much trouble.

"Well... sure. I'm on a break right now anyway, so it's not like I'm short on time. What do you want to write about? Since it's sign language... a romance about a deaf person? That seems like the most natural angle. A little clichéd, maybe, but handled well it could really work."

Well, he was a writer, after all.

Watching him lock onto the subject in the span of a breath, I spoke.

"No. I'd rather it not be about a 'deaf person' at its center."

"Hm?"

At his look of confusion, I smiled faintly.

Then I shifted my gaze slightly, looking up into the empty air.

Fog. You're here right now, aren't you?

Swallowing the words I couldn't say aloud, I gave voice to different ones instead.

"I want to write a screenplay about having a conversation with someone you cannot speak to."