The Fog's Gifts and a Graduation Day
After lying down on the bed, I counted seconds in my head.
One, two, three, four, five….
Once the sensation of my whole body lifting free settled in, I slowly opened my eyes.
And the moment I saw what was sitting in the middle of the black space, laughter burst out of me.
"Flowers today?"
"Yep! Pretty nice, right? You like it? You loved it when you got this exact one! But mine's way bigger!"
Ange's delighted voice rang through the air.
For all that the voice sounded ready to scamper off at any moment, the sky-blue bouquet, taller than I was, hung perfectly still like a real object.
"Yeah. It's nice. But I still like you better as a person."
"Tch…."
"Hurry up."
At my gentle pat, the bouquet—so fresh it practically gleamed—wilted and shriveled in an instant, its colors dulling. In the blink of an eye, the flowers became Noh Bihyeok, and he came running over.
A sulky face closed the distance in a heartbeat.
"Why don't you ever like anything I do? You loved everything the humans gave you."
It was around my birthday that Ange, who had always greeted me in human form, started acting strange.
I still can't describe how absurd it was to open my eyes and find a yellow sports car parked dead center in the black space.
'…What even is this.'
I was too flustered to approach it and just stood there staring, until after a while a muttering voice drifted down from the air—*what, you don't like it?*
That was the moment I realized it was Ange.
When I asked what on earth he was doing as a car, the answer came back that he'd wanted to see my face myself as I received a birthday present and liked it.
'Why don't you like it, Yeonjae? The humans said everyone loves this sort of thing….'
Watching him grumble with his mouth twisted into a pout, it took every ounce of willpower not to laugh.
For the record, I soothed him by saying I didn't even have a driver's license so I wasn't particularly interested—then, seized by a flash of mischief, I teased him that maybe he didn't care about me enough.
After that, it was like someone had pressed a button. He came prepared like this every single time.
One day the space was crammed wall to wall with the newest electronics, another day it was buried under plush dolls stacked in every variety imaginable.
Then one day there was nothing but a single thin sheet of paper. Wondering what it could be this time, I took a closer look—it was a building contract.
Not even human, and yet uselessly worldly.
"Of course I like it. I like it right now, so you can stop now."
It was funny, but I figured it was time to put a stop to this, so I patted his back.
At that, the creature—who had been nuzzling against my shoulder with a great show of sniffling—hopped up.
"Why are you telling me to stop! I haven't even seen you laugh yet!"
"Is that what this is about? There, happy now?"
"That's a fake laugh!"
*Yeonjae, you dummy!*
Even as he shouted, he didn't fall away—if anything he burrowed deeper into my arms. I swallowed a sigh and held him close.
Seriously, what did I do to deserve this just because a birthday is supposed to be a big deal.
"I didn't get to celebrate yours either. Let's call it even. From next year on, we just take turns being first to celebrate each other, okay?"
I was grasping at anything to comfort him, and then I froze mid-sentence.
Did this guy even have a birthday?
He gave no reaction, as if he were thinking the exact same thing.
"Come to think of it, I don't know your birthday. You don't know it either, do you?"
"No…."
"Then should we just share one? Same date as mine."
"……"
I said it offhandedly, stroking his back in slow strokes. Ange went quiet, thinking something over, before asking in a small voice whether that would really be all right.
"Of course it would. Why wouldn't it?"
"…Then let me think about it a little."
It didn't seem like much of a question to agonize over, but I told him to do whatever he wanted. A few minutes later, Ange pulled out of my arms, face bright again, and went scampering around the space.
Watching him, I snorted. Honestly, such a child. A *child*.
***
We decided to postpone the crank-in (*the start of a film's shooting*).
Since the film wouldn't be just me on screen for its entire runtime, we still needed to cast the other roles, and there were plenty more details to see to—securing locations, and so on.
Above all, Director Yoon had expressed a desire to revise parts of the finished script.
He said my conversation with him had been inspiring, and asked whether, if I didn't mind, we could meet regularly. I said of course.
Nothing beat talking with the creator for understanding a character deeply.
Between practice and practice and yet more practice, time flew by.
And then February arrived, and with it, my elementary school graduation.
After all the ceremonies ended, I stood blankly at the entrance to the auditorium, and from far across the crowd, my eyes met Noh Bihyeok's.
He'd been turning his head this way and that, searching for someone, and the instant he spotted me he started walking.
His expression, as he strode toward me, turned strange at some point.
"…What are you doing?"
"Ah."
My mistake.
The moment I saw a familiar face, my arms had spread wide on reflex.
It was a side effect of Ange hugging me in Noh Bihyeok's form so often lately.
I couldn't exactly explain myself with that questioning look on his face, so I covered by pretending to stretch.
"I'm stiff. Been working out lately, so… what, anyway."
"Oh? No, I just… saw you, so I came over."
Noh Bihyeok looked bewildered by my oddly sharp retort. Trying to shake off the awkwardness, I'd snapped at him for no reason.
He glanced around me and asked, "Where's Jinbae-hyung?" I answered that there were too many people in the parking lot, so he'd gone ahead to move the car.
There we stood, the two of us, awkwardly idle—me and the kid who called my manager like he was his own older brother.
I'd made plans to hang out with Park Haeun to celebrate graduation, but she had so many friends that the photo-taking alone took forever.
"Where are your parents?"
"Both busy."
Noh Bihyeok stood there with just his bag, not a single bouquet in hand.
Standing beside him with three bouquets felt embarrassing, so I tucked one into his arms.
"…?"
"It's heavy."
He stared at me for a moment, then snorted.
The face looking down at the yellow bouquet Jung Hyun-hyung had sent over by courier that morning was calmer than usual.
"Yellow suits you."
"Huh?"
"I said yellow suits you. Try buying yellow clothes from now on. A hoodie or something."
"…Really? Well, my problem is that *every* color suits me, so~ that's the real dilemma."
"Right. Must be so hard for you."
"Lee Yeonjae. I told you—if you're going to make that face, just say it straight."
Even under his scolding I kept my deadpan, and Noh Bihyeok jabbed my cheek with his finger, snickering with a mischievous look.
'And he's back.'
I didn't know what song it was, but he'd started humming quietly under his breath.
I glanced sideways at him pulling out his phone, then faced forward again.
Before long, Park Haeun walked up looking utterly drained.
"Ugh, I never want to do a graduation ceremony again. I'm wiped."
"Popular, aren't you? I thought you were some kind of landmark. Prime graduation-photo real estate."
"Keep it up and you're dead."
"Haeun-ah, want me to carry your bag?"
"No! It's fine! You look like you're carrying more weight than I am, honestly…."
"Guys. Doesn't anyone else think the unequal treatment around here is a bit extreme?"
The three of us talked until Manager Ahn Jinbae belatedly joined us, and we piled into his car.
To celebrate the happy day, we ran the full course—noraebang first, then a drive.
And yet disappointment kept pouring off Park Haeun's face.
"Ah… I don't want to go."
"Is the move tomorrow?"
"Yeah. I should get there early and start packing."
Park Haeun was moving to another region to enroll in a boarding middle school.
"Such a shame. Hanging out like this, the three of us, was really fun…."
"It's not like you're moving abroad. We'll just get together on weekends."
"Easy for you to say. You're starting film shoots now, and you, Noh Bi—aren't you going to be living in the practice room from now on?"
Noh Bihyeok couldn't quite bring himself to say no, and made a sheepish face.
The moment January hit, he'd been auditioning like a man possessed, and a while back he'd become a trainee at a major agency.
Unlike him and me, who would be entering the nearby arts middle school together, Park Haeun—with the move on top of everything—couldn't seem to shake her gloom.
"We won't be shooting and practicing every single day, so let's text a lot, Haeun-ah."
"She's right. And you promised to come to my debut stage, my very first one. If you cut contact before then, you'd better watch out."
"I know…."
Only when Bihyeok and I coaxed her and fed roe tteokbokki into her mouth did her face finally ease.
The power of tteokbokki was truly mighty.
By the time nothing was left in the bowl but sauce, she was back at her usual energy levels.
"Yes! Eat like it's our last meal! One more bowl of mara tteokbokki, please!"
"What is it with you and tteokbokki? It's an actual disease with you."
"You hush. Yeonjae-ya! After the mara, want to try the curry tteokbokki? It's a new menu item."
"…Sure. Order whatever you want to eat."
She was sparkling with excitement, and I couldn't bring myself to say no, so I nodded slowly.
At that, Noh Bihyeok let out a groan and faceplanted onto the table.
While he muttered that he was going to be sick, Park Haeun opened her mouth wide and shoveled rice cakes in, gulp after gulp.
"I think I've eaten a lifetime's worth of tteokbokki today…."
"Me too…."
"Somebody really needs to get her checked. There might be tteokbokki sauce instead of blood in her veins. Ugh, my stomach."
The moment Park Haeun—her face bright as if she'd shed every last worry—left, Bihyeok and I collapsed in unison.
Noh Bihyeok, pale as a sheet as though he had motion sickness, kept dry-heaving.
Watching him made my own stomach turn, and I clapped a hand over my mouth.
Manager Ahn Jinbae, returning from a brief absence, being shocked to find us sprawled on the pavement was simply a bonus.
***
"Hello! I'm number 23, Nam Inhoo. It's a tremendous honor to meet the great Director Yoon Kang-yeon."
Child actors are far more grown-up than people imagine.
It might be because they've gotten an early taste of the adult world—experiences their peers never touch—or perhaps it's simply that the kids who feel the pull of the camera from a young age were always going to be old souls. Either way, they grow up ahead of schedule.
Nam Inhoo was the latter.
"The honor's mine. Now, please begin with your prepared lines whenever you're ready."
Warm as his words were, Yoon Kang-yeon's face was utterly blank.
Just as composed as he'd seemed in every interview.
The rigid air filling the audition room made Nam Inhoo swallow hard.
Beside Yoon Kang-yeon sat a boy who looked to be Inhoo's own age, his expression placid.
There wouldn't be a single applicant at this audition who didn't know him.
He was the hottest actor in the industry right now.
And he was slated to be the lead of this very film.
'Celebrities really are a different species, huh.'
Lee Yeonjae, a year younger than fifteen-year-old Nam Inhoo, somehow radiated the presence of a seasoned adult actor.
There was something faintly detached in his expression—so familiar with sitting beside a director that the whole situation struck him as almost tedious.
In other words, he looked completely natural.
Unlike Inhoo, who was trembling under the gazes of just a handful of people.
'That guy was seriously born to do this….'
Even stealing a glance at him, Yeonjae felt unmistakably out of reach.
It even crossed Inhoo's mind that they were simply different species.
This wasn't about looks.
It was embarrassing to admit, even to himself, but the aura that emanated from Lee Yeonjae felt like a wall no one could climb.
"Thank you. We've seen enough. You did well."
Oh no.
He'd been so lost in his own thoughts that his prepared performance had ended before he knew it.
It was what happened when you drilled your lines so thoroughly they'd roll off your tongue if you so much as tapped them.
'I'm d̷o̷o̷m̷e̷d̷….'
Outwardly, Nam Inhoo smoothed his expression and stayed calm, but inside his head was pure chaos.
He couldn't even remember how he'd performed.
Leaving the utterly brain-crashed Nam Inhoo where he stood, Yoon Kang-yeon turned to the boy beside him.
"I'm done on my end. If you have questions, ask them."
"Yes, I do."
Nam Inhoo snapped back to his senses at the sound of Lee Yeonjae's voice—the first he'd heard in the ten minutes since entering the audition room.
There was no time for self-recrimination now.
He had studied the character to a degree that bordered on obsessive.
Ready to answer whatever came his way, he focused with everything he had.
But what came back was a question with nothing to do with the film—so out of left field it was almost disorienting.
"Actor Nam Inhoo, what do you think a normal family looks like?"