There's No Such Thing as a Normal Family
Nam Inhu was thrown off balance.
A normal family structure? What even is that? Am I the only one who doesn't know?
He could feel his eyes trembling violently, but he fought to smooth out his expression.
“I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand the question properly. By a family's structure, do you mean…?”
“There's no right answer, so feel free to say whatever comes to mind. I'm just asking because I'm curious, that's all.”
As if I could speak freely.
The placid answer irritated him, but there was no time to dwell on it, so he cranked his brain into gear.
Structure means composition, right? Two parents, at minimum one child. These days both parents work, so plenty of families have grandparents stepping in as caretakers—so five people, total?
Wait. Maternal grandmother or paternal grandmother? Leaving it all to one side would be unfair. What if they think I'm a sexist? Should I just say seven?
A whole jumble of nonsense crossed his mind in the space of a few short seconds.
As Nam Inhu stood there arranging his answer, agonizing over which version would sound more "normal," he suddenly went—ah.
“Honestly, I don't think the phrase 'normal family structure' makes any sense to begin with.”
“…….”
“If you'd asked about a typical family, I could answer that… but that question, I find it hard to answer.”
The words, delivered in a trembling voice, rode the vibration and filled the room.
At his answer, the dark eyes blinked slowly—then vanished beneath long lashes.
“Thank you. No further questions.”
At the flat remark, Nam Inhu gave a shaky bow and stumbled out of the room.
Damn it. I'm finished.
He couldn't remember whether he'd even acted properly, and he had no clue what that last question had been trying to draw out of him.
He'd spent the whole audition looking like a walking filmography filler, and the one time something real had come his way…
Nam Inhu, standing dazed in the corridor, heaved a long sigh and started walking.
“Just go home…”
He couldn't even muster any hope for the results. He'd look up other audition schedules once he got home, he decided.
And on the way home, he got the call: he'd passed.
“You're really sure about that kid? His acting was just so-so.”
“I thought he was fine.”
“Fine, sure. But there were others who were better.”
Director Yoon muttered, looking utterly baffled.
“He barely made a presence the whole time, and then you only ask him questions… Don't tell me the mask is your type?”
Ignoring the director's swerve off-topic, I gathered my things.
“If you decide he's not right, you can always go with a different actor.”
“No. I told you—for other roles I don't care, but this one, it's better that you pick.”
“Then I'll go with him. I liked him.”
The role being cast in today's audition was a rather different beast from the others. No matter how brilliantly someone performed it, they would never actually appear in the finished film.
Twins centered on two characters who shared the same face: Lee Jin-woo and Kang Tae-il. The two appeared overlapping in the same frame constantly, which meant the set needed an actor to play opposite me.
In other words, while I shot the two characters in turns, this person would match my lines and blocking so I could stay immersed in each role. It was hardly a glamorous part—work as hard as you like, and not so much as a fingertip of you would survive into the final cut—but still, the audition tapes had poured in.
Everyone wanted to put a Director Yoon film on their résumé.
“Right. Well… as long as he's good enough not to trip you up, that's all he needs to do.”
“So that's the last of the schedule, then? Can I go?”
“Why? Something urgent?”
“No. I want to get back and practice.”
With the script reading coming up soon, I was getting antsy. I'd been eager to leave, but when he told me to sit back down, I sat, bag still slung over my shoulder.
“Did you read the script I sent yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It was good. Much more intense than before the revisions.”
“That's it?”
The look on his face suggested he found my review a bit thin, but the odd expression seemed to be reaching for something else entirely.
“You don't feel like it's more than you can handle, or anything? Not offended?”
“Whether I can handle it, I'll know once I actually act it… but is there some reason I should be offended?”
“Well… the lines are a bit….”
I watched his eyes slide around slowly, sneaking glances at me, and laughed.
“You already warned me, though. That you wanted to work our conversation into the film.”
“I did, but….”
“Don't worry about it. Was there anything else you wanted to say? If not, I'll—”
“There is. I have more to say. Would you please just sit still.”
Cornered by Director Yoon's insistence, I ended up setting my bag back down.
He'd been about to launch into something when he stopped mid-sentence and told a staff member to bring Manager Ahn Jinbae.
“You were looking for me, Director…?”
“Ah, have a seat over here.”
Manager Ahn Jinbae came in looking bewildered and sat down beside me. When he shot me a silent what's going on? look, I shrugged—no idea.
“It's nothing major. I just think we'll need to run psychological counseling alongside the acting this time.”
I had to whip my head around at what Director Yoon had just dropped.
“I'm sorry—what?”
“Understood. I actually looked into a few places already—”
“Hyung. Quiet for a second. Where'd this sudden counseling come from? And why are you telling Jinbae-hyung?”
“Because if I told you, you'd just say you don't need it.”
At that offhand response, I faltered, unable to answer right away.
Director Yoon seized the opening and fired off his words rapid-fire.
“You've read the script too, Manager, right? This is the kind of acting that would grind down fully grown adult actors. Counseling is non-negotiable.”
“Yes. I was actually planning to raise it with him myself.”
“Hold on—I don't have to take it. Really, I'm fine.”
The moment I pushed back, Manager Ahn Jinbae turned to look at me with a radiant smile. It was ominous.
“Even if you're fine, Actor-nim, it's absolutely essential—for the film. If a controversy over actor welfare blew up later, it could affect the release.”
“…….”
Every counterargument I'd spread out in my head evaporated on the spot.
The moment he said for the film, the words died at the tip of my tongue and came out as a low grumble.
Director Yoon, glancing between me and Manager Ahn Jinbae a couple of times, cut in quickly.
“He's right. If word gets out later, it's a genuine headache. Let's start before shooting and continue straight through to the end.”
“If it's the controversy you're worried about, once or twice should cover it. Wasting money on months and months of that is—”
“For the record, the counseling fees come out of the production budget. Not a cent of your money.”
“…….”
And so the first therapy sessions of my life were decided.
Time flew by.
From the script reading to the counseling sessions, the packed schedule blurred past, and before I knew it, the first day of shooting had arrived.
The drive was lined with cherry blossoms so dazzling they stung the eyes.
“The cherry blossoms are gorgeous this year.”
“They really are. Let's go see them before they fall—the three of us, with Jung Hyun-hyung.”
“Sounds good. He said he'd be back in Korea next month; I'll try to match our schedules.”
It was the kind of bright, sunny day that made your heart float. The face of Manager Ahn Jinbae, drumming lightly on the steering wheel, was beaming too.
Though the voice of Jung Hyun-hyung, who I'd called yesterday, had been utterly worn to a rag.
“It's been way too long since I've seen your faces… I'm coming straight home the second I land in Korea.”
Hyung, let's talk later—go get some sleep. I'm hanging up.
“No, please don't hang up… This place is insane… There's no hope here…”
Jung Hyun-hyung had been stuck in Vietnam for three months because of a film shoot, and he looked thoroughly beaten down. He was patient enough about everything else, but humidity was the one thing that made him prickly—shooting outdoors all day long must have been pure agony.
When he apologized, again, for not being able to hand me my birthday present in person, I pointed out that was the fourth time already. He barely seemed to be in his right mind.
If you ask me, that hyung is the one who needs the counseling more than I do.
“Hello.”
“You're here? Sit over here.”
The first shooting location was a deserted stretch of river. It was only after working my way through the staff, who were all busy hauling equipment around, that I finally reached Director Yoon, seated and waiting.
It was my first time on a film set, but at least the place itself looked no different from a drama shoot. Black cables sprawled messily across the ground; all manner of equipment stood twice the height of a person.
And among it all, I spotted a figure standing there awkwardly.
“Hello.”
“Oh—! Hello! I'm Nam Inhu!”
“I'm Lee Yeonjae.”
“Yes, I… I know….”
When I came up and greeted him, his stiff, frozen face jolted in alarm. I'd told him he was my hyung, so he could speak comfortably.
Nam Inhu nodded with a face that was anything but comfortable.
“You can speak casually with me too.”
“I'll ease into it. Hyung, let's go sit over there—shooting is still a ways off.”
When I brought Nam Inhu over, Manager Ahn Jinbae unfolded a chair and set it down beside mine. Sitting there between Director Yoon and me, his expression was so rigid I almost regretted bringing him along.
Just then a stir rose from far off, and a familiar face made its entrance.
“Hello, Director! It's an honor to finally meet you…!”
“Welcome. Was the trip all right?”
“It was fine. It's an honor to be shooting with you, Director.”
“The honor's mine. Thank you for coming.”
The face I hadn't seen in a while was still glowing. After exchanging a few courteous, smiling words with the director, Seong Ijun hurried over to me.
“Yeonjae! It's been so long…!”
“Yeah. You're still handsome, hyung, even after all this time.”
At my offhand remark, that bright, clean smile flushed red on the spot.
“You—you're handsome too….”
He really was easy to fluster—one little jab and he'd pop right off. It was hard to believe he was the same person who'd played everything so smooth at the awards ceremony.
Celebrities really are fascinating.
“You really haven't changed at all…. How've you been? I couldn't believe it when Director Yoon called. I'd actually just seen the article about your casting. This is the first time we're acting in the same scene together, you know.”
I laughed at how talkative he was being—unlike his usual self. With that crimson face pressing in close, he looked like soybean paste left to over-ferment in the sunshine.
I humored him for a decent interval, then introduced Nam Inhu, who was still standing there awkwardly beside us.
“This is Inhu-hyung. Say hi. And this is Ijun-hyung—we did a drama together. Oh, Seong Ijun, that is.”
“I know who he is without being told…. Hello. I'm Nam Inhu.”
“Yes, hello.”
The two exchanged stiff greetings and promptly fell silent.
Apparently they're both shy with strangers.
Not that it mattered—Seong Ijun's was a special appearance, three or four scenes in total, so there was no real need for them to become close. Still, good things are good things, so I played magpie, ferrying words back and forth between them like the birds that bridged the star-crossed lovers of the old Korean tale.
With the offering ceremony for a safe shoot and the making-of interviews on top of everything else, the time went by quickly. It wasn't until noon, with the sun blazing high, that preparations finally wrapped.
“Everyone, listen up. We're starting with 'Lee Jin-woo' first. Once we've shot everything, we go back to the beginning and shoot it all over again as 'Kang Tae-il.' Don't get confused—keep your storyboards handy.”
The crowd clustered around the assistant director answered with a vigorous chorus. It being the very first shot of the film, everyone's fighting spirit was razor-sharp.
I took my mark, resolved to cause as little trouble as humanly possible.
The role I'd be playing first was Lee Jin-woo. Calm and impassive—the only son of a wealthy family.
I fingered the collar button fastened neatly to my throat.
“We never shot side by side like this, even back on Zelkova Tree… it's kind of exciting. Let's do our best, Yeonjae…!”
“Yeah.”
Seong Ijun, dressed in the same school uniform as mine, took his place beside me. His role was the friend who linked Jin-woo and Tae-il together.
Nam Inhu, who would play 'Kang Tae-il' in my stead, sat down on the riverbank.
“Alright—standby!”
At Director Yoon's call, I closed my eyes.
I moved the fingers that hung limp beside my uniform trousers, slowly.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The steady rhythm of the sound, the faint vibration spreading through my body—and then—
“Action!”
I opened my eyes.
The harsh sunlight flooding my vision clung to my skin, unpleasant and unshakable.