Do Kwang-seon
Do Kwang-seon wasn't the kind of actor you could sum up with a simple label like "veteran actor." He was a man cited as the epitome of human triumph—a guy who'd toiled in obscurity for ages like a cicada, gradually rising until he claimed the lead roles. Tae-gyu realized it the moment he laid eyes on him.
·······I can see it.
Beyond the TV monitor broadcasting live, a strange dokkaebi fire flickered. It was an emotion. Pure instinct. The kind of recognition that hit without any explanation.
"Just a moment, haha. It's not easy to get the words out."
Do Kwang-seon fell briefly silent, trophy in hand. His pause built such anticipation that viewers in the terminal waiting room clamped their hands over their mouths. But Tae-gyu's focus was solely on the dokkaebi fire hovering before him.
No way.
Tae-gyu fixed his gaze on the monitor and raised his right hand. Recalling his conversation with the old man. If that fire was a real emotion, there was something worth trying.
'Suck it in with the right hand, spit it out with the left.'
Nothing to lose. Repeating the old man's words, Tae-gyu spread his five fingers wide and thrust his palm toward the TV monitor—precisely at the dokkaebi fire. No reaction at first, but as he pulled his hand back with the intent to absorb something, it responded.
"As you all know, I'm a very flawed person. I want to sincerely thank everyone who's loved my acting despite that."
The moment he clenched his fingers like grasping an invisible egg, something was caught.
·······!
It gathered at his fingertips. A strange sensation, warm yet cool. On the TV, Do Kwang-seon's face filled the screen as he delivered his acceptance speech in earnest, but the dokkaebi fire from before had vanished.
It's here.
Now it flickered between Tae-gyu's clenched fingers. Eyes widening slightly, he manipulated the fire in his right hand, then passed it to his left like handing off a ball.
Fwoosh.
Remembering the old man's instructions for the second half: suck in with the right, spit out with the left.
Now the dokkaebi fire rested in his left hand.
"Khup, ah, sorry."
On the monitor, the veteran actor's eyes began to glisten with tears mid-speech, but Tae-gyu paid it no mind whatsoever. This time, the opposite of absorption. He slowly spread the fingers of his left hand toward his face, then flicked his palm as if tossing a ball.
Fwoosh.
The dokkaebi fire laden with the veteran actor's emotion splashed across his face.
"·········Huh?"
Something boiled up from deep in his chest.
A surge—
***
An instant. As the hot something surged up, countless images flashed through his mind like a kaleidoscope.
············Hm?
They were fragments of information. Vivid phrases he'd seen in countless media interviews with actor Do Kwang-seon.
"My twenties? Haha, it was hell."
"I didn't have a proper job until I was forty. Life was always so bleak."
"I couldn't sleep at night, so I'd down a bottle of soju every day. 'Burnout case' fits pretty well."
The racing lines were mostly striking quotes from interviews. Tae-gyu absorbed the emotional fragments and real-life context they implied, like tracing paper.
Soon, the emotion's context took shape.
"I dreamed of acting after seeing Robert De Niro. It wasn't easy. My college major was totally different, and I was so timid I couldn't even dream of joining a theater troupe or enrolling in a proper acting academy. Borrowing books on acting from the library was my start."
"Looking back, I had quite a few opportunities, but I missed them all at the time."
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't regret it. I'm only saying this now, but that sense of deprivation was really tough."
"Still, that deprivation became my motivation."
"I lived in a goshiwon, practicing acting like a madman. When I had no work, I'd do day labor at dawn, but I never skipped a day."
Desperation, deprivation, regret... This raw intensity and urgency didn't just come from interviews.
Details from news articles he'd seen somewhere compressed radically, mapping out Do Kwang-seon's life trajectory. An emotional runway. A channel for the writhing emotions inside Tae-gyu to erupt.
Overwhelm, profound感動.
Indignation, agony.
Relief, anger, emptiness.
Excitement, anticipation.
And now—
"I've wanted to be recognized as an actor for so long. No matter how much I think about it, this is the only thing I can say."
It was a bizarre experience. As if piecing together the beginning and end of the emotion now cloaking him, stories formed in Tae-gyu's mind. He felt an urge to launch that emotion skyward, using those stories as his runway.
"Thank you all for giving me the Best Actor award. My wife—"
A single tear dropped to his chin. The instant that emotion raced through his chest toward explosion, Tae-gyu clamped both hands over his mouth.
"Kuhp."
Damn it, this was a public place. He tried to stifle the volcanic surge, but it was too late.
"Woooo..."
Something red-hot forced its way up his throat.
"······Kwaaaah—!"
It burst out.
Thud.
In other words, he collapsed onto the icy terminal waiting room floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Huuuuhuhu... heungheung..."
Do Kwang-seon was a madman. How the hell was he holding this back? Even as such thoughts raced through his mind, Tae-gyu couldn't stop, pouring out the emotion he'd stolen from Do Kwang-seon.
"What's with him?"
"A fan of the actor?"
"We're fans too, but that's a bit much..."
"He's nuts."
"Eww, kinda creepy..."
"Hey, let's get outta here."
Passengers scattered from the monitor. A few terminal staff and drivers gawked before leaving, and even the janitor tossed a trash bin nearby out of pity for his wretched wails.
Drip, drip, splat.
How many tears like chicken shit had splashed onto the floor?
"·········Hahk, heuk."
No more tears now. Drained, Tae-gyu dragged his exhausted body back onto a chair. He'd just detonated an emotional bomb using his own flesh as the fuse.
"What the..."
Then it hit him. He hadn't felt this kind of catharsis in years.
Thump!
Refreshment, liberation, elation. This cleansing of body and soul, this rediscovery of a pounding heart, this summoning of the dokkaebi fire.
"This."
In other words,
"··············Insane."
It was salvation.
***
Friday evening. With puffy eyes, Tae-gyu had spent the last three days fully exploiting this bizarre power.
Dokkaebi fire. By staring at a target and making a grotesque face, he could summon their emotion as a fire, copy it, and use it himself.
But.
"It's totally different from Do Kwang-seon's."
Barbecue shop uncle, feuding bus driver on the road, butcher lady, PC bang part-timer, street couples arguing, etc. He'd copied plenty since then, but nothing matched that explosive release.
Why? Not just the emotion's intensity. Do's fire had been dense, but not overwhelmingly so.
"This one's pretty strong too, but..."
The one he had now was quite potent. Found yesterday afternoon in a cafe—not as explosive as Do's, but intensely vivid.
Fwoosh!
Looking down, a small flame flickered over his solar plexus.
Yes. He'd discovered a storage spot for copied emotions from others: right hand in, store in the solar plexus, where it blazed. Left hand to transfer, ready to splash on his face anytime.
Copy once, store long-term—it seemed ridiculously overpowered.
Hm.
But Tae-gyu saw two drawbacks.
- 1. New dokkaebi fire overwrites the stored one when applied to the solar plexus.
And
- 2. Can only copy from screens during live broadcasts.
That's why Do's explosive emotion was gone now.
One long-term emotion slot—slightly disappointing, but.
"Still... not bad at all."
Tae-gyu was satisfied. After years of faint, colorless emotions, now he could copy raw, vivid ones whenever he wanted. The thrill of truly living.
If he found a way to store more later, perfect. For now, this overflowed.
Thump!
Had his heart raced like this lately? Low emotional amplitude had made life boring, immersion impossible.
Now, he anticipated a 180-degree life change.
·······Thanks to that old man.
No ordinary guy, no matter how you sliced it. Some immortal sage? Didn't matter who. With this wuxia-style fateful encounter, the key was exploiting it to the hilt.
Flip, flip.
Turning the calendar, Tae-gyu noted tomorrow—a prime chance to test this power for real.
A circled schedule entry from before: a "secret" part-time gig.
1 PM: Hagak Albar !!!
Hagak albar. One of the short-term gigs he'd snagged to make ends meet and immerse in life's experiences, despite no steady job.
Fwoosh!
"This."
Eying the dokkaebi fire in his solar plexus, Tae-gyu sensed the hagak albar might deliver fresh stimulation beyond mere work.
"·········This could be fun."