Private Gathering (1)
Ten minutes after the main footage of SBC's pilot variety show Your Heart Speaks had ended.
"············."
"············."
A deathly silence hung in the reception room, quiet as a grave.
Han Joo-hyuk and Seol A-yoon, lost in their own thoughts, slowly turned their gazes toward each other. Without a word between them, they both nodded up and down.
Nod.
They were recalling the same memory.
In other words, after Lee Tae-gyu's confession—the one that had left them with expressions like What the hell is this guy talking about?—it had lingered in their minds for a good while.
"······Right?"
"······Probably."
The two, who had been classmates in the same university film department, shared a line they'd heard hammered into their ears from the first class to the last in their acting theory course during undergrad.
And the name of the legendary actor who had uttered that line slipped from the lips of Seol A-yoon and Han Joo-hyuk in unison as their eyes met.
"·········Marlon Brando."
Marlon Brando Jr. Commonly called "Marlon Brando" for short, this actor was famous to 21st-century audiences primarily for one iconic role in a masterpiece.
Don Corleone from The Godfather.
The very image that sprang to mind. The actor who played that role, leaving an indelible footprint in Hollywood film history, was none other than Marlon Brando. He was a legend in the movie industry.
Even surveying the entirety of global film history, it was hard to find another actor with so many achievements. Just a few of the grand epithets that could prefix his name:
- The American actor who led Hollywood's golden age in the mid-20th century.
- 150 billion won for 10 minutes of screen time. Still the record holder for the highest per-minute pay in Hollywood history.
- A genius actor who swept the Cannes Best Actor and Academy Award for Best Actor at age 30.
- The star of stars, idolized by Hollywood heavyweights like Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, James Dean, Johnny Depp, and more.
- The man Michael Jackson, the legendary pop star, called "another father."
- An icon of his era, defining rebellious youth fashion with jeans, leather jackets, and motorcycles.
- A pioneer who brought the theater world's Method acting to the screen and exploded it into stardom.
······And so on.
Brando's personal life was messy, his personality flawed, and he'd committed some ugly acts in the industry back then, polarizing opinions to this day. But one thing was certain.
His acting—acting at its pinnacle—was on a level unmatched in film history. A legendary actor of unparalleled skill.
The words he'd spat in a pre-death interview were unavoidable scripture for anyone studying acting in later generations.
"Remember the first line?"
"Yeah."
Without missing a beat, Seol A-yoon and Han Joo-hyuk recited Marlon Brando's words aloud.
"·········I'm not an actor."
They shuddered again as the words left their mouths.
How could they not?
That line bore an uncanny resemblance to what Lee Tae-gyu had unconsciously let slip on the variety show earlier.
"·········I'm not acting."
Reciting Tae-gyu's broadcast line in sync once more, the two could only swallow dryly.
Gulp.
Coincidence?
It wasn't just that one line making the legendary actor overlap with Lee Tae-gyu in their minds.
The master of Method acting. It was natural for Tae-gyu to come to mind when recalling Brando's eccentricity of wheeling around in a chair even off-camera to play a paralyzed soldier.
"Lines, I don't memorize······."
"······Better to glance at them on set."
Han Joo-hyuk tossed out the opener, and Seol A-yoon caught it seamlessly—Marlon Brando's famous quip, perfectly evoking Tae-gyu, who breathed ad-libs more naturally than the script itself right there on location.
"This is insane······."
"Gives me chills······."
"Does this even make sense? He's already at that level?"
"Less that, and more···."
Han Joo-hyuk suddenly emphasized his words, his tone laced with admiration, jealousy, and envy—a strange mix that seemed to desperately cling to Tae-gyu's growing distance.
"Their attitude toward acting is the same."
"Still."
Seol A-yoon's follow-up sent Tae-gyu's name soaring to those lofty heights.
"If he keeps going like this, couldn't he end up like Marlon Brando someday?"
"·········."
"N-No way he wasn't actually hypnotized, right?"
"Then."
"They rigged the directing like that. Variety shows pull that stuff all the time."
"·········Nah, not that."
Han Joo-hyuk shook his head, gritting his teeth to accept reality.
"You saw the other guests' reactions. It matched the real hypnosis symptoms perfectly. Sure, if he faked that too, no words left··· but he didn't. You know what kind of actor he is—you've experienced it."
Right. These two had definitely witnessed it.
Lee Tae-gyu. In their minds now, a mad prospect who'd debuted less than a year ago but already had the potential to become a great actor etched forever in the industry. Plenty of moments.
"·········."
"·········."
A brief silence passed, then Seol A-yoon suddenly spoke up.
"·········Hang on. Those two things they said—what do you think that means?"
Her eyes drifted to the acting textbooks strewn across the reception table for their study session and the open laptop screen. Something clicked for her as she stared absently.
"Just that he can't define himself as a professional, right?"
Han Joo-hyuk's response made sense. Brando's original quote continued: I'm not an actor. I just want to be myself.
But.
"No. To me, it sounds like he's talking about acting methodology."
"What're you on about."
"For Marlon Brando, acting was the path to his 'true self's essence,' but in the end, he hit a limit."
"Hey, you don't mean."
"Yeah. He realized Method acting wasn't the answer after going all the way."
"Ha······."
Han Joo-hyuk rubbed his forehead.
What Seol A-yoon had just brought up was the very debate they'd argued since undergrad—and one that still raged among actors without end.
Where should an actor focus first for performance?
[Inner VS Outer]
Method acting was obviously inner-focused.
But plenty of actors started with the outer—i.e., the "body."
[Laurence Olivier]
Just look at him. A legend representing British theater, with an award named after him, and the first foreigner to win an Academy Best Actor in Hollywood. Famous for transforming his exterior completely—posture, detailed traits, gestures, vocal training for voice and speech—then acting.
In other words, craft the character's physical traits first, move from there, and the inner emotions follow naturally. That approach.
Of course, these days many blend both, turning the debate into a spectrum.
"I've said it forever. 'Real' acting means······."
"Hey."
Han Joo-hyuk cut off Seol A-yoon, who leaned heavily toward the "outer approach."
"Your view's biased from the start."
"That's not it."
"Brando saw Method's limits and said that? Come on, that's a stretch."
"Then ask."
"Ask who······."
Seol A-yoon's words made Han Joo-hyuk's eyes widen.
"You don't mean."
"Yeah. Let's ask Lee Tae-gyu directly."
They'd already concluded that Tae-gyu shared Brando's mindset toward acting. Seol A-yoon wanted to know the true intent behind words echoing the legend.
"We're not even close—asking that'd be rude, you know? Actors fight and cut ties over this stuff all the time. We've seen him long enough, sure···."
"Then we get close starting now."
"What?"
"I'm starting to feel my limits anyway."
She spoke with a meaningful expression.
She and Han Joo-hyuk had recently started an acting study group precisely to avoid embarrassing themselves when syncing with Tae-gyu on their respective sets.
"Did I tell you? A while back on set, Veteran Cha Jin-tak called out my acting."
"Cha Jin-tak? Yoon Chang-ho's crew?"
She nodded and continued.
"Honestly, it made sense. I could see my shortcomings."
"·········."
"We get called the best of our age group, but not top 1 or 2 in all of Korea."
True enough.
Seol A-yoon's epithet was "best actress of her age." In acting, where skill grows with experience, she still hungered for greater heights.
"Then."
"Yeah."
Thinking of Lee Tae-gyu made her cheeks itch oddly, but she hid her other feelings and spoke to Han Joo-hyuk.
"You know our seniors and big directors all have private gatherings, right? The best hang out, learn more, share hot info."
"Sure."
"That's how they expand their circles."
One moonlit night.
Among Korea's young film blood, a conspiracy sprouted to climb past industry giants.
"What if us young actors··· started our own private gathering?"
At the same time.
The SBC viewer bulletin board was on fire.
The viewer reactions clamoring for Your Heart Speaks to become a regular program.
And the number one contributor drawing those responses? Naturally, Lee Tae-gyu.
The highlights were obvious.
Celebrities. In an era where fame translates even more directly to wealth and power than before, they were emerging as a new "class" in Korea.
Among them, famous actors who shrouded themselves in mystique during interviews, subtly looking down on the public—these types drew admiration but also annoyance from many···
···Suddenly rendered trivial.
And that was just the start. Far from entitlement about his job, his response—treating this level of attention and treatment as undeserved—sparked massive likability.
Everything true. No lies, just utterly unpredictable—a real bouncy weirdo emerging.
Of course people went wild.
Thus, while the SBC viewer board blazed hot.
As articles about the broadcast started uploading, Lee Tae-gyu's public favorability began skyrocketing.
Click.
A middle-aged man stared at a photo of Lee Tae-gyu.
Flanking the monitor were two quotes from famous actors that seemed oddly mismatched, glowing red.
"There's a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line."
— Oscar Levant
"The gratification comes in the doing, not in the results."
— James Dean
The middle-aged actor stared piercingly at Tae-gyu beyond the screen for a long time.
A faint smile creased the elegantly wrinkled corners of his mouth as he picked up his phone.
"·········."
He was the very man from whom Tae-gyu had first copied the dokkaebi fire.
In other words.
Smirk.
Do Kwang-seon—currently vying for top 1 or 2 in all of Korean acting—dialed somewhere with an enigmatic expression.
[This is a work of fiction. All characters, groups, place names, events, etc. appearing in the story bear no relation to real entities. Knowledge featured has been reconstructed and adapted to fit the narrative.]