Forgot It All
He'd completely forgotten. All the fretting over what to say at the final judges' table as an honorary judge right before the closing ceremony. Hell, even the irritation over those few actors who'd announced their abrupt departure after the grueling script reading for Model Detective 3 had long faded. So much so that he'd wiped his mind clean of the hassle of needing replacement casting after the festival wrapped.
"Can you see it? The vast sky of Daecheon-gyo, embracing both life and death!"
Kim Kwang-woo, fully immersed in the film at 100%.
"Their... happy smiles?"
He clenched his fist without thinking. It was because Lee Tae-gyu's performance as the Little Elder—smiling against a backdrop of trees dangling with laughing corpses—sent chills down his spine.
Gulp.
In a scene so grotesquely directed that even Kim Kwang-woo, who could crush a goblin barehanded, felt tense.
"Sister."
"Ah..."
"Doesn't it resonate?"
"This is, too..."
"If it touches your heart, if you crave this happiness too, we'll help you. What do you say?"
The woman beyond the screen nodded slowly. The Little Elder gazed at her, flashing the warmest smile of welcome.
"Hahaha! Excellent! We'll perform a simple ritual to cleanse your impurities."
The film charged toward its core conflict.
A few days later, in a dingy office.
Click.
The Big Elder lit his cigarette and muttered to the man across the desk.
"This ID any good?"
The tattooed man—the head of this rundown detective agency—pulled out the ID the Big Elder had handed him and smirked.
"This chick? She's worth something."
"Who'd you sell the name to?"
"First to some nightlife crews and voice phishing ops. Homeless folks don't cut it there, so they pay premium. Log traders even ponied up a deposit."
"Good work."
"Your rituals make it so damn easy."
Daecheon-gyo's prayer hall initiation rite went like this: Hand over everything tied to your identity—credit cards included—to the Big Elder, then flock to the hall. People vanished now and then in the process, organs harvested or shipped to islands—who knew?
"Pretty face too, so I can reroute her later if needed."
"Won't your underling bitch about that?"
"Just say she ran."
"Oh ho."
The detective agency boss nodded, then pulled out bundles of cash from selling the woman's ID and details around town.
The Big Elder's eyes locked on the cash as he continued.
"No parents anyway—no one to come looking."
The boss snorted and handed over the bundles.
"Parentless kids got it rough~ You wouldn't know."
The Big Elder snatched the cash.
"What're you on about? I'm an orphan too."
"No shit? Thought that cult was your family business."
"Adopted by those cult freaks."
"What? You run it now."
"Yeah, well."
The Big Elder chuckled incredulously and lit another smoke.
"We got big, so they said, 'Spread the great sky's teachings now,' and offed themselves."
"Fuck?"
"Yup. Smiling the whole way. Hanged from trees."
"Wait, hold up."
The agency boss looked baffled.
"So they waited till successors showed to spread the word, then bit it smiling? 'Cause dying happy's the peak bliss?"
"Yeah."
"Teachings seem dead simple."
"Nah, conclusion's easy—the road there's a bitch. Patching together scriptures to memorize, passing cult doctrine tests and shit."
"You memorized and passed?"
"Obviously."
"So you'll smile and die when your successor pops up?"
"You nuts, asshole?"
The Big Elder cackled.
"Hell no—sit back, they bring money and off themselves. Why die?"
"Fair."
"That cult prick probably will. Then I swallow it all solo."
"Hey, if he croaks, lemme take over?"
"Piss off, I'm hogging it."
"Fuckin' hell."
"Heh, later."
Bang.
The Big Elder strolled out whistling, bag stuffed with cash slung over his shoulder, heading to his parked car.
Thud, thud.
"Hm?"
He whipped his head around suddenly, scanning warily like he sensed a tail or some eerie presence.
"All that cult bullshit fried my brain—hallucinations now?"
He tilted his head, smirked, hopped in, and vroom! The car peeled out with exhaust roaring.
Right behind, against the wall.
Tap... tap... tap...
A woman perched on a discarded chair, tapping her toes like at that early bus stop.
Smirk.
She pulled out her phone—the conversation from that office freshly recorded.
Flipping through photos: Big Elder, tattooed guy, then Little Elder, zealots, even the SUV plate from the first pickup at the bus stop.
Yes—she'd investigated the church from day one, waiting daily at that stop to infiltrate naturally via their ride.
The twist revealed.
With the cheapest laugh.
Kekekeke——!
Scene shift. Big Elder's office.
Recording ends.
Little Elder, kitchen knife in hand, advanced on Big Elder with a twisted grimace.
"How... how could you...!"
"Hey, hey! Drop the knife!"
"All this time... that's how you invoked Daecheon?"
"N-no! I just ran the church..."
"You dare!"
"B-business talk only, you know that!? Who snitched? That crazy bitch told you!? I warned you she's a scammer—"
The Big Elder froze mid-sentence.
Blasphemy——!
Overwhelming terror. The Little Elder's face—more demonic than human—made him collapse.
Thud.
The raging cult elder closed in, knife raised. Big Elder babbled desperately.
"Y-you idiot! It never added up! No matter the hustle, it's all packaging suicide!"
"Aaaahhh!"
"You don't believe it either, right? Huh?"
"Stillll!"
"L-let's keep it business, yeah?! Same as always! Why you preach easy? 'Cause of me—strip the dead's cash, sell IDs, skip organs or you'd never slack like this... I told you——!"
Not words—a grotesque screech. Goosebumps erupted across Big Elder.
"'True faith' or no great sky! How many times!"
"N-no, slip of tongue!"
"Blasphemyyy!"
"F-forgive—urk!"
Little Elder hacked at Big Elder with the knife.
"G-gaaahhh!"
Screeech!
Chilling screams as he stabbed relentlessly. Again, again.
Long after screams ceased, Little Elder rose, butchering the corpse madly.
Blood-soaked entirely.
Huff, huff...
Mad-glinting eyes, heaving breaths.
Creeeak.
Door burst open.
"Elder."
"Elder."
Woman and zealot approached politely.
They passed Little Elder—wild eyes, bloody knife, licking lips.
Stretch.
They flanked the now-dead Big Elder, yanking his mouth corners wide.
Ripped smile on a corpse—grotesquely like laughter.
Little Elder stared blankly.
Blood and tears smeared his face, a twisted grin forming.
"Today... we lost one sky, gained two."
Scenes flashed: woman, zealot, Little Elder—reading scriptures, kneeling in prayer, murmuring desperately, clasping hands in tears.
Overlapping rapidly one dawn.
Screen lit the darkened chapel slowly.
View panned down.
"Seeing our brothers and sisters, I'm certain: soon, great sky's glory."
Little Elder, oddly relieved without Big Elder, eyed zealot and woman.
"Our meeting—great sky's glory."
"Glory..."
"Glory..."
Spring, summer, fall, winter... time passed.
"Today?"
"Yes."
Window side. Woman now grinned cheaply like dead Big Elder.
"Jealous. I wanna be that happy now..."
"Nah."
Can't be happy alone—make the world happy.
"Right, great sky's will..."
"Work hard, us."
Camera followed new "cult church maknae" zealot's gaze.
Massive tree with ladder.
Little Elder atop, barely stifling laughter.
Pfft, heh! Phbt!
Self-scolding, but laughter burst uncontrollably.
Puhaha!
Relieved face etched with pure ecstasy.
Yes. Burden lifted.
"Met sister—truly fortunate."
Next-gen successor to lead great sky's teachings to lambs.
With her, freed from duty, he could finally embrace Daecheon's enlightenment.
Smirk.
Little Elder tied noose knot.
Grabbed loop with both hands, plunged face in without hesitation.
"Hahahahaha!"
Screen filled with ecstatic face. Ripped mouth leaking joyous laughs as body dropped.
Sway!
Vast sky framed.
Crack——!
Neck snapped.
Blackout.
From dark screen, dead Little Elder's laugh echoed once more.
"Hahahahaha!"
Film end.
Eerie song swelled as white credits rolled on black screen.
Gulp.
Korea's noir master, Director Jeon Yong-il, swallowed dryly.
Seeing the lead credit atop: realized Yoon Chang-ho bet was trivial.
Lee Tae-gyu.
Found him. Perfect for next film.
Judges' final meeting.
Genre winners set; now pick overall grand prize from 50 entries.
"...No objections."
Grand prize locked: The Maknae Son of the Cult Church. Unanimous.
Cycle of cultism flowed perfectly, but lead's acting dominated.
Script structure and logic flaws negligible against flawless cult performance.
Short runtime packed full human emotional spectrum—impossible for most shorts.
Shifting emotions bloomed variably from fanaticism's firm roots.
Real cult elder's arc? Probably just like this. Perfect emotional line.
Lee Tae-gyu outclassed not just festival leads, but all Korean film stars last year.
Judges savored his acting again.
"Man, that Lee Tae-gyu kid. Some serious chops, huh?"
Kim Kwang-woo spoke up. Honorary judge—no vote, but table seat.
"Makes me proud he's DK's."
Chest puffed before titans, brimming pride.
"Saw the spark from the start."
"Yeah?"
"Yup. Folks said overinvesting in a bit player? DK pushed anyway. His acting texture's unique."
"Hm."
"Oh, shooting Model Detective 3 with him soon... Expect big things. Balancing fun and art this series. Proving genre films have depths—through him."
Last jab at Yoon Chang-ho, genre hater. He didn't retort.
Kim Kwang-woo savored it. Jeon Yong-il nodded.
"Sharp eye, Kwang-woo."
"Haha, too kind."
Hand rose from round table.
"...Agree on the texture."
Superstar Seol A-yoon, honorary judge, chimed in.
"Felt it spotting his bit role. Can't let talent like that bury."
"Oh ho."
"Else why fight for him in Hoshi-jeol?"
Claiming discovery.
"Hoshi-jeol beats your film to release, Kwang-woo sunbae."
"Knew that. We've managed his sched since debut."
"Ah, right. Haha."
"Hahaha."
Stars eyed each other: I spotted him first!
"Indeed."
"Hm."
"Heh."
Other directors restrained, mere affirmations.
Why hold back praise for grand prize star? Hiding intent.
These busy titan directors cleared 5 days for festival? No current shoots.
I.e., seeking next projects.
Thus...
...I'll snag him first.
...Good chance.
...Me first.
Directors vied silently to cast Lee Tae-gyu next——
Closing day.
Award stage: thunderous applause.
"...Grand prize: The Maknae Son of the Cult Church!"
O Director staggered onstage.
"Congrats, Director!"
Cheers echoed, flashes rained amid shouts.
Same table: Lee Tae-gyu, Han Joo-hyuk, Cheon Yoo-seong, Yang Se-hee clapped earnestly.
"Whoa! Our director won, sunbaes! Insane!"
"As expected."
"..."
"Shame—no best actor for shorts. Right, hyung?"
Festivals like this: directors speak over actors.
O Director gripped mic for speech.
"I, I, I... th-this award... waaahhh!"
Choking sobs erupted.
Bang! Pop-pop!
Reporters snapped wildly, MC soothed, actors watched conflicted, audience varied—chaos.
Thus.
All awards done—genres plus grand.
"...Director, you okay?"
"All good?"
"Aigoo, our director."
"Director."
Cast patted trophy-clutching, sniffling O Director. Time to move.
"Thanks again to all who lit up our Xth Arena Short Film Festival. We close!"
Post-ceremony party awaited: directors, actors, critics, reporters—industry mingle.
"I was gonna retire for real—hic—"
"We know, Director."
"Let's go. Drink till we drop tonight!"
"Great job."
"For real booze, us!"
Off-record now. No crowd, no flashes.
Thud, thud.
Following ushers to party hall.
"...Ah, bathroom quick."
"Huh."
"Urgent. See it—join right after."
Tae-gyu veered. Hydrated heavy; didn't expect closing to drag.
Couldn't pop in/out during others' wins.
Thud, thud, thud.
Corner to bathroom corridor.
...Hm?
Tae-gyu sensed oddity.
Footsteps trailing him just now...
Thud-thud-thud.
Pat-pat-pat!
Tap, tap, tap!
...No illusion.
Whirl.
Spotting something, Tae-gyu turned!
Shoulder-to-shoulder cluster approached competitively, then charged like screw it.
"...!?!"
All titan directors.
"Screw it!"
"No manners—!"
"What the...!"
Melo master Yoon Chang-ho, noir Jeon Yong-il, historical Chu Won-taek, horror Som Chai, fairy-tale Wang Chen, Bollywood-desired Amir, revenge Jun Hao...
Even SF/fantasy Japan's Matsumoto.
"Hahaha! Tae-gyu-ssi, loved the film! Next project—?"
"Next film set?!"
"Quick meeting?"
"Chotto matte! Lee-san!"
"Talk?"
"Hey! I want you!"
"What? Poaching foreign turf!"
Hunter eyes gleaming at treasure.
Uh oh...
Left alone, they'd swarm bathroom, urinals included.
Tricky.
Tae-gyu concluded: no pee at this rate.
"Hold up, bathroom first—"
"No pushing!"
"Hey! Hands off shoulders!"
Entourage, interpreters mobilized—shoulders bumping, breaths hot on neck.
...Damn.
Bladder screaming, Tae-gyu nodded.
Can't delay second. Block advance fast—with dokkaebi fire.
Emergency—gotta.
Fwoosh!
Far directer than cult elder's—transferred. Mouth opened.
Directors——shoving for bathroom, faces snapped to him.
"Bathroom emergency."
All froze.
Intense aura from upcoming Hoshi-jeol.
I.e...
"Wait a sec?"
...That feral tiger glint just now.