The Bitter Taste of Playing a Trash Character
“We were barely scraping by as it was two years ago, and I guess this year was the limit.”
Kim Suho murmured that much before slumping to the ground where he stood.
With his brow faintly creased as he rubbed his shin, he practically radiated the air of a small child whining about his legs hurting.
The members glanced at each other and got up one by one.
The maknae hurried over to Lee Hoseop and untied his hands.
Was Kim Suho the one who didn't drink the sacred water? So what am I supposed to do now…
Of course, with him being just one kid, the outcome was already decided. Kim Suho seemed well aware of it too, muttering that everyone should stop dawdling and get out of here. His voice carried the resignation of someone who had long since accepted his lot.
Ahn Jicheol asked hesitantly.
“Why didn't you drink the sacred water? Do you usually not drink it?”
“No, I normally do. But this time something felt off, so I didn't. I've been doing the deity's acting for so long that maybe something real actually attached itself to me.”
He laughed then, a thin, self-mocking sound.
Everyone exchanged wary glances at how bitter he looked. He was clearly the perpetrator, but he was also a child, and there was something in his downcast expression that made it impossible to just come out and say what they were thinking.
While the members hesitated, half-worried that handing a narrative to the culprit might draw criticism, Kim Suho said flatly, “Don't worry, I'm not planning to cosplay as the victim. It was me who abandoned my friends.”
“How did you end up impersonating the deity?”
“Because that was the only way they'd let me live.”
Kim Suho looked faintly vacant.
“There used to be someone who played the deity, but he died a few years ago. That man came to me back then and said if I took over the shaman role, he'd spare my life.”
Kim Suho pointed at the man sprawled unconscious, having drunk a sedative. He was the guide who had led the members through the village.
Shin Woocheol asked, his face full of disbelief.
“I heard this back in the kitchen… ordering the villagers around strangely, that was you?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Who knows.”
The boy's face was so utterly blank as he said it. He even looked mildly annoyed.
“It's exactly what it sounds like—a twisted little hobby. Part of it was hoping you'd notice something was wrong and run. And if, even with all those hints, you stubbornly got yourselves seized as sacrifices anyway… then I'd say a little of it is on you.”
“……”
“Well, anyway. Thank you. I was sick to death of wondering how long I'd have to keep up the act… and thanks to you, it's over.”
He smiled, just barely. It looked refreshing in some ways, hollow in others.
Lee Hoseop, who had been abducted mid-shoot and was piecing the situation together more by intuition than understanding, was about to try to wrap things up when the maknae—still fully immersed in the scenario—puffed himself up and marched forward.
“You're thanking them for the wrong thing! Even if you're sick of it, your friends are in a state where they can't even feel that much anymore—”
“That's right. It's not that you get to stop acting now—it's that from here on out you have to worry about innocent people not becoming the sacrifices, don't you?”
Shin Woocheol caught the maknae's indignant words with perfect timing.
“…You're right. I suppose… no matter how hard you pretend otherwise, the stench coming off a piece of garbage can't be hidden.”
Kim Suho gave an empty laugh and shrugged.
Then he added that they should call someone to come collect the garbage. It was a kind of signal—the scripted lines had run their course.
Sure enough, a bright light bloomed from the direction of the village entrance.
Over there, there'd be a circular floor pad with MISSION CLEAR written across it. All they had to do was climb on and shout “Mission clear!” together, and it would be over.
But something about it felt off, and his feet wouldn't move easily.
Everyone consciously ignored the bright light and stared at the boy sitting vacantly in place. No one knew what they were supposed to do, only that they were supposed to do something.
The production staff, watching the members stand frozen, began to murmur.
“What's with them…?”
“Should we give them the signal?”
Maybe the others, sure—but by now it was Lee Hoseop's job to step in and pull things together.
Just as the staff hesitated over whether to pick up their mics, Lee Hoseop, who had been lost in thought for a moment, strode forward decisively.
He took out a fresh cup, filled it with water from the red container, and handed it to Kim Suho.
“Drink. But once you get up, everything after that is yours to carry.”
“……”
It was a final courtesy for a child who would have to sit alone among the sleeping until someone came for him.
Kim Suho may have been nothing more than a perpetrator himself, but since he hadn't committed his wrongs alone, there was no reason he should have to endure the waiting alone either.
Kim Suho's expression flickered with surprise, and he accepted the cup carefully.
Contrary to how agonizingly slowly he'd taken it, he drank in a flash. Kim Suho drained it in a single gulp without a hint of hesitation, then whispered quietly.
“…I wish it had all ended here.”
Despite the flat voice, the hand holding the cup was trembling violently.
His bowed face was hidden behind his bangs, but the tears dripping down were unmistakably visible.
“I don't want to wake up.”
No one answered him. Instead, they stood silently by his side.
The trembling hand slowly went still, and the moment the cup slipped free and fell, Kim Suho collapsed with it. Shin Woocheol gently rearranged the boy's awkwardly splayed body, and the maknae, after a moment's hesitation, pulled off his outer jacket and draped it over him.
“…Shall we go?”
At Hwang Minseok's words, everyone quietly left the plaza.
As they neared the village entrance, blazing lights and a swarm of cameras came into view, almost painful to look at. Only then did the fog in their heads begin to clear.
With heavy, complicated expressions, they stepped onto the floor pad.
It had been an unusually long day.
“Mission…”
“CLEAR!!”
As Lee Hoseop led the call, the members shouted with everything they had left. At the same moment, fireworks burst from the apparatus installed beside them.
Under normal circumstances they'd have laughed heartily and thrown their arms around each other, but right now no one had it in them. They simply stared up at the fireworks blooming overhead, quietly sorting through the tangle of everything inside.
The long, long shoot was finally over.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
“Seriously, how can anyone act that well?”
“Right?! I've honestly never felt like this on a shoot before. Auntie! Can we get a fresh grill over here?”
“Eat up plenty of meat. At your age, you need it.”
“Thank you.”
Lee Hoseop watched with quiet fascination as Lee Yeonjae picked up meat with a faint smile.
His chopstick work was impeccable, he ate with his mouth closed so that no food showed, and everything about him was composed. His tidy manner and gentle smile were barely any different from the “Kim Suho” of moments ago—and yet, strangely, he felt like an entirely different person.
Shin Woocheol noticed Lee Hoseop sitting there blankly and snickered.
“Hyung-nim. Still haven't gotten your bearings back? You're just staring at Yeonjae.”
“Hey, when did I ever stare.”
“Why are you getting all embarrassed all of a sudden? It doesn't suit you.”
Lee Hoseop grumbled that he'd just been looking because it was interesting, and everyone burst out laughing. Unlike the manufactured laughter they'd been force-fed all day, this one settled easy in the chest.
Finally back to his senses, Lee Hoseop was wrapping an enormous lettuce wrap when he felt eyes on him from the side.
“What? Something you want to say?”
“Ah… yes. About earlier, inside the building.”
Lee Yeonjae apologized with an awkward expression for startling him so badly.
Lee Hoseop, who had frozen mid-motion wondering what was coming, waved his hands with an “Oh, that.”
“Forget it. Don't apologize. I heard it wasn't a clue at all, just the script. If it hadn't been for you, we'd have had a broadcast disaster on our hands. Thanks.”
“It's nothing. I figured you must have been badly startled, so I really wanted to say sorry.”
“Oh, come on, don't be like that…”
Lee Hoseop scratched his neck, embarrassed.
Getting overpowered by a kid who hadn't even started middle school yet was humiliating enough; having the kid apologize to him on top of it made it worse. And why did a boy have to talk in a way that was so disarming? When those black eyes, brimming with contrition, met his face, he squirmed in his seat.
“I'm telling you, it's really fine, so stop worrying about it. I learned jiu-jitsu back in the day, so honestly I wasn't even that scared—”
“Wait, isn't there thirty years between you two? Is 'hyung' really appropriate?”
Ahn Jicheol cheerfully demolished the self-esteem-recovery speech Lee Hoseop had been building toward. The members, who'd been cackling at the sight of him frozen solid, piled on with enthusiastic agreement.
“That's right, hyung-nim. Have some conscience. What hyung? He's more of an uncle.”
“Just have him call you uncle. We'll be the ones calling you hyung.”
“You—seriously—what's the age gap between you and me, huh?!”
“The leading digit isn't even the same. What are you talking about?”
“Wait, are you saying that with a straight face?”
In an instant, the table erupted. Man, must be nice being young.Yes, hyung-nim. How does it feel to be old?Why you little—, shut it! The bickering filled the table to overflowing.
While Lee Yeonjae blinked quietly beside the chaos, the maknae sidled up to him.
“Yeonjae-ya.”
“Yes?”
“I'm still in my twenties. You can call me hyung.”
“……”
Lee Yeonjae's face plainly read, Is that really that important? And yet he somehow managed a nod. “Okay, hyung.”
The maknae beamed and asked if he needed anything else, want him to order him more meat—watching this, Shin Woocheol muttered, “Their mental ages match, so of course they get along.”
After that, the main PD, pleasantly sloshed, came stumbling back over to grab Lee Yeonjae's hand and thank him all over again, and the staff dinner wound down with Lee Hoseop bellowing that the oldest man present should be the one to go.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
“Actor-nim, let me take a look at your shoulder.”
The moment they got home, Manager Ahn Jinbae was checking my shoulder for me. I'd hoped it was nothing, but there really was a bruise. Thankfully it wasn't too vivid, but even a quick glance showed a bluish discoloration spreading across the skin.
Just how strong is he? Where I was purely impressed, Manager Ahn, still smudged with dirt, only kept repeating that he was sorry.
“Hyung, it's seriously fine. Please stop apologizing.”
“I'll be much more careful next time.”
“I know. Now let's hurry up and sleep. We have that school to go to tomorrow.”
Frankly, school or no school, I wanted nothing more than to lie in bed all day. The surprise incident had drained me further, but at its core, Kim Suho simply wasn't an easy character to play. I'd thought of him as nothing more than an unpleasant character—but once I sank into the role, I understood why he'd made the choices he did. And that was precisely what made it unpleasant: it kept forcing me to make excuses on his behalf.
“How about you skip school tomorrow? It's already this late as it is.”
“Mmm…”
Truthfully, the staff dinner had taken a real toll on my stamina too. I wavered over taking one more day to rest, then just shook my head.
“No, I'll go.”
What concerned me was Noh Bihyeok, who'd sent me a photo of his tray scraped so clean it didn't have a single grain of rice left, whining that eating alone killed his appetite.
It wasn't worry for Noh Bihyeok—kids like him could make friends even if they washed up on a deserted island. It was that I knew a relentless barrage of texts would come flying at me tomorrow, and it was easier to just show up and let him talk at me in person. With that many friends, I'll never understand why he's like this.
“I'll go wash up, then.”
“Yes! When you come out, I'll put a potato pack on for you. I just looked it up, and if you grate a potato and apply it, bruises fade much fast—”
“Hyung, it's fine. If you just leave it alone, it'll disappear on its own.”
A potato, at this hour of the night.
I calmed him down, told him to go wash up himself since I was genuinely fine, and slipped into the bathroom. Under the hot water, my body went loose and heavy almost immediately. As I scrubbed away the layer of dust, sweat, and grime from the grill, I rinsed off the whole day's unpleasantness along with it.