Because I Still Believe
On the rare occasions when Assemblyman Choi Giseok and I sat down to drink, just the two of us, he would say things like this.
"President? The ones who'll make it that far — you just feel it. I don't like admitting it, being a politician myself. But they're different. The energy's different from the jump."
"You are that kind of person, sir."
"Me? Not a chance. Guys like me... we're the cheonsachae they plate with the sashimi. That white garnish with no taste of its own. We just come out so the fish looks better."
"......"
When I stayed silent, Assemblyman Choi Giseok picked up a clump of the white garnish with his chopsticks and smiled, unguarded, like a village elder.
"Disappointed?"
"A little."
"What can I do? That's how I was born. Grand ambitions, but I don't want to get broken. I want to take everyone in, but my eye for people is a knothole. Can't even tell jade from gravel."
Back then I just thought... this is Assemblyman Choi Giseok venting.
So I gave the best answer I could. As an aide. As a man named Lee Jaewook.
"You will become that kind of person."
"Not sure I want to, honestly. Politics is a real joke, you know that? The higher you climb, the filthier the water. Turns into more and more shit-water the further you go. Funny thing. And so the ones who haven't changed, the ones who stayed lofty, the ones with a real cause..."
He paused for a breath, knocked back his drink, and went on with a flushed face.
"Those are the ones who drop first. The water gets dirtier the higher you go, so the fish that live in the cleanest streams die first. In the end, the higher you climb, the more you're left with nothing but the filthy ones. Put another way... you have to be dirty to survive. Scares me. That I might end up like that too."
"Just don't let go of your banner."
"My banner?"
He echoed it, about to crack some middle-aged joke, then saw my set face and let the faint smile fade.
"If I just hold the flagpole? Our Jaewook'll handle the rest?"
"Yes. I'll carry you across on my back. Not a single drop of filth will touch you. I'll bear you across intact."
"Don't. Your legs'll hurt. And you've piggybacked me plenty already. What's a scholarship worth, that you'd go this far... I wonder about that myself."
I didn't argue the point.
The end of conversations like this was always more or less the same. I would say I'd do it. Assemblyman Choi Giseok would tell me not to. A tedious tug-of-war, over and over — that much was obvious.
Why. Why, looking at Shin Chaeyoon step out of that car, did an old conversation with Assemblyman Choi Giseok come back to me?
"Whoa... holy shit. That's actually Shin Chaeyoon."
"How does she not age...?"
"Maybe it's the years off — she looks even prettier, doesn't she?"
"...It's like the lighting's only hitting her over there. When seniors who'd worked with Shin Chaeyoon said that after you look at her, every other celebrity looks like a squid, I thought they were talking nonsense. I think I get it now."
With the crowd's voices as backdrop, Shin Chaeyoon walked toward the set, and a path opened before her like Moses parting the Red Sea. Not a single manager at her side — she was alone. And yet it was as if invisible bodyguards were holding the people back. No one could approach her easily.
I think I understood why that old conversation with Assemblyman Choi Giseok had come back to me. He'd said you could tell a future president at a glance. I'd never seen anyone like that. But a real star was different. I had never seen anyone like her.
Sorry to Ha Eun-yul, but there was something in Shin Chaeyoon that went beyond any standard of beauty. And it wasn't just Eun-yul. Moon Najin, anyone — none of them could touch that aura.
Shin Chaeyoon walked up to the coffee truck and looked from Ha Eun-yul to Moon Najin and back. Then:
"You've grown a lot, our Eun-yul."
"Ah......"
While Ha Eun-yul stood frozen, Moon Najin found her courage.
"Uh... unnie, you're so pretty. Could I just get one photo..."
"I'm really sorry. I only came today to see Eun-yul for a moment, personally. Photos next time, if we get the chance. I'll take one for you then. You understand, right?"
"Ah... yes......"
Shin Chaeyoon caught Moon Najin as she turned away, disappointed, and gave her a light hug.
"We've shot together before, haven't we? Moon Najin, was it? You've grown a lot too. You looked like a kid back then, but you're starting to look like an actor now."
Moon Najin's pupils shook as if an earthquake had hit them.
"Huh...? How do you even... you actually remember that? I was just a bit player back then......"
"Is a bit part not an actor?"
"Ah......"
"I'll see you again, if we get the chance."
"Ack! Again?!"
Moon Najin clapped both hands over her mouth. Shin Chaeyoon laughed as if she'd seen it a hundred times, then took Ha Eun-yul's hand.
"Come on, you. Unnie's got a lot to say, for once."
"Ah."
"'Ah'? Are you still doing vocal exercises? Have you been well?"
"Yes... have you been well?"
"I'm just raising kids. They don't listen at all."
Shin Chaeyoon walked toward Ha Eun-yul and me. When her eyes met mine, she smiled, lightly.
"So it's you? Eun-yul's manager."
Ordinarily I wouldn't have asked at a moment like this. But I couldn't swallow the curiosity.
"How did you know?"
"Because I showed up, and you're the only one Eun-yul is looking at."
"...Shall we go to the car."
"Sure. It's nice, coming to a set for once."
I walked ahead of the two of them, toward the parked car.
Snow White. Rapunzel. Cinderella.
The heroines of those fairy tales, long since become classics, had all waited for a prince on a white horse. And the princes had rescued those weary heroines from crisis. The reason stories like these — so worn that even calling them cliché feels inadequate — still draw people in is very simple.
The harder things get, the more people hunger to be lifted out of their crisis in a single stroke. Ha Eun-yul was no different.
Even Moon Najin, who had been marking her territory all over the set as queen of this block, had volunteered to be a lady-in-waiting. That was how special Shin Chaeyoon was.
She had been the first love of men. The romance of women. An idol to fellow actresses. Even married, even with a child, even with her career on hold — it was all still present tense.
What is this?
Ha Eun-yul had known they were at the same company for a long time. They'd crossed paths a few times in the halls. They'd even exchanged greetings. When Director Kim Taewoo had first brought her into the company, Shin Chaeyoon had offered a word of encouragement. And that had been the end of it.
Director Kim Taewoo had collapsed. Shin Chaeyoon had gone on an indefinite hiatus. The press had started asking whether this was retirement in all but name, and Shin Chaeyoon had stopped every activity she had.
Of course she wouldn't remember, Ha Eun-yul had thought.
Inside the car, Ha Eun-yul still couldn't tell whether Shin Chaeyoon sitting beside her was reality or a dream.
"Have you been well?"
"Yes... sunbae."
"You feeding me years?"
"Pardon?"
Ha Eun-yul startled at even that light remark. But contrary to the words, Shin Chaeyoon's face was full of a smile.
"There. Now I can see your eyes. From now on, if you take your eyes off my face, you're in trouble."
"Ah... yes!"
"Good. And not sunbae. Unnie. Call me sunbae one more time and you're in trouble then, too."
"Yes!"
Watching Ha Eun-yul snap to attention, Shin Chaeyoon burst into a laugh full of mischief.
"You haven't changed a bit, have you?"
"R-really?"
"Mm. Still such a baby."
"Ah... um."
"That's a good thing. It's exactly the charm you can show at your age."
"Thank you."
Ha Eun-yul couldn't even think of putting back on the mask she hadn't noticed slipping off.
It feels like a dream.
When Moon Najin had been doing that particular kind of showing-off women do, it had stung. That was only natural, actor or not. That house had a pool in the yard and food everywhere; their house was a leaking ceiling and an empty rice chest. The melancholy had been about the same.
Those leftover dregs of feeling felt washed away in a single stroke.
Shin Chaeyoon, who hadn't shown her face in three years, had personally arrived leading a buffet truck. No one sending coffee trucks a thousand times could match this. Shin Chaeyoon was that kind of person.
Ha Eun-yul found her courage and moved her mouth.
"Unnie...... did you come back?"
A lot was left unsaid, but Shin Chaeyoon understood without difficulty.
"No."
"Then... you came back to Korea?"
"Not that either."
"Then how are you here today...?"
A smile spread again across Shin Chaeyoon's face, which had sunk a little.
"The company still has my number, right? The contract, well — I'm not working, but we keep renewing it."
"Yes......"
"A call came in on the company line. I'd told them to contact me only when Tae-woo... when he opens his eyes. It was the first time a call had come."
Shin Chaeyoon peeled her back off the seat, crossed her legs, and propped her chin on one hand.
"I really thought my heart stopped. When that number came up."
"Ah......"
"So I picked up?"
"Yes."
"They asked me to send a meal truck or a coffee truck."
Ha Eun-yul, who had been sinking into Shin Chaeyoon's story, went round-eyed.
"...What?"
"They said seniors from other companies send coffee trucks every day to show support. Why wasn't I sending one? Send one, they said."
"...?"
"They said so matter-of-factly that even if I'm not working I could at least do that much. So I just went, fine. Send it in my name from the company and bill me. I'll pay. Honestly, it was absurd. It wasn't about the coffee truck... I'd clearly told them to only contact me about our Taewoo."
She paused for a breath, and her eyes curved, gently.
"......"
"They said to get crumpled paper crisp again, you can't just use your hands. You have to iron it. And can you really smooth it out with fake pity? With sympathy?"
"......"
Shin Chaeyoon reached out and stroked Ha Eun-yul's hair.
"So I came. If you're going to smooth it out, you have to do it with your whole heart. Yeah. All right then. I'll smooth it out properly and go. That's what I figured."
Instead of an answer, tears fell from Ha Eun-yul's face, drop after drop.
"Unnie......"
"But don't grit your teeth trying not to crease, either."
"...It's hard..."
"Call me when it's hard. I'll pick up. Factor in the time difference."
Ha Eun-yul poured out tears. Like a dam bursting. She didn't know why. She hadn't had that deep an exchange with Shin Chaeyoon. Shin Chaeyoon hadn't even offered what you'd call enormous comfort. She had just... thought that in front of Shin Chaeyoon, it would be all right to cry.
"Give me your number."
Through the tears, Ha Eun-yul recited her phone number. But the name being saved was strange.
"What's Ha... Jjajang?"
"Your nickname."
"What?"
She had no idea why it was jjajang. But instead of answering, Shin Chaeyoon changed the subject.
"Your current manager seems good. Stop thinking about the guy lying there and stick close to the one you've got now."
Shin Chaeyoon opened the car door.
"Cry some more. Finish crying, then come out wearing an actress's face."
And she walked toward the manager from before, waiting a little ways from the car.
Shin Chaeyoon came toward me.
For the first time, my heart pounded. Honestly — a heart is supposed to pound, that's normal — but this was truly the first time I'd felt my heart tremble because of a woman.
Not that I like men, or anything like that. I'd just thought that was how I was programmed.
I was wrong.
"Just this once. A chance only comes once. You know that, right?"
I bowed my head in thanks at Shin Chaeyoon's words.
"Yes. Thank you."
"You're an interesting one."
I spoke as she turned to leave on that alone.
"Are you heading back right away?"
"I smoothed it out. Of course I am?"
"You're not going to see Director Kim Taewoo before you go?"
Even for me, that was a hard thing to bring up. I'd heard it from the Ghost often enough. What this undimmed top star had meant to him.
Instead of answering, Shin Chaeyoon looked at me for a moment.
"That's far enough."
"I'm sorry."
She turned away again, then added something.
Shin Chaeyoon walked toward her car. Leaving the Ghost — no. Leaving her own manager behind.
......
The Ghost couldn't get a single word out the entire time he looked at Shin Chaeyoon. That was why I'd gone out of my way to ask whether she was going to see Director Kim Taewoo.