Six Hours to Choose

After lunch, I returned to my desk.

I worked through my tasks out of pure habit, one after another.

"......."

Honestly, I couldn't even tell if I was working. My body simply moved on its own.

Class change, class change, class change.

It was the only thought filling my head. And as if the system itself were nudging me along, new lines began scrolling up across the Status Window before my eyes.

Apparently, all it took was tapping the ▶ to make it official.

Of everything on that list, the one that pulled at me most was actor.

Because once upon a time, I had dreamed of being one.

If I became an actor... could I really act? Even now? Just a few days ago on that commercial shoot, I'd stammered my way through take after take of NGs. If it hadn't been a simple time-passing shoot, I might have made a complete fool of myself. Me, with no talent, chasing acting on nothing but enthusiasm?

Ridiculous.

And yet—

If I could truly grow, was there any profession more alluring than actor?

Without warning, my heart began to pound. It felt something like the thrill I'd had as a freshman, watching the seniors perform on stage for the very first time.

Knock, knock.

I was lost in thought when someone rapped a knuckle against my desk. I turned—and there stood Manager Kim.

"Oh? Team Leader."

"What do you mean, 'oh.' Something on your mind, Manager Kim?"

"No, sir. Is something the matter?"

"That's what I'm asking you. You seem like you can't focus on your work. Like something's weighing on you."

"N-no, sir. I just slept badly last night, that's all."

"Hm... I see. Well, all right. Don't push yourself too hard. And if you ever have a problem, come find me—believe it or not, I'm a seasoned veteran of life. Happy to help if there's anything I can do. Ahem. Anyway, keep up the good work."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

A veteran of life? Team Leader Jung had turned warm out of nowhere.

A senior. A senior... a senior, huh.

Then why not ask a senior?

There was no time to waste. I had a little over six hours left to decide on my class change. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Six hours, and then the choice was made—whatever it turned out to be.

I messaged Haein right away.

Zzzt— zzzt—

The phone rang almost instantly. A call, of all things. Talk about pressure.

Could you not have just texted?

At the torrent of words pouring out, I held the phone away from my ear for a moment. Once the flood had subsided, I answered.

"Yes, yes, Senior. There's something I was curious about."

"Curious? About what? I'm single, you know."

"Ah... yes, I'm well aware you're not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠married. That's not it. What do you think of acting as a profession? Being an actor?"

"An actor? Why on earth are you asking about that?"

"I don't know—after meeting you again and shooting that commercial, the old days kept coming back to me. So I got curious about what the life of an actor is actually like."

"Where are you right now?"

"At the office, why?"

"Daehan Bank headquarters?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Wait there. Your noona is coming!"

"Yes. Wait, what?"

Click.

Beeeep.

A top star was coming to see me?

Three in the afternoon—the hour when your eyelids start to grow heavy and the world goes soft around the edges.

Zzzt— zzzt—

I made some excuse to Team Leader Jung about having a visitor and headed downstairs.

From the first-floor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠parking garage, I spotted a black van with its hazards blinking. I knew it instinctively: that was a celebrity's car. And sure enough—

"Black van, right? Get in!"

As I approached, the door slid open with a soft hiss. Song Haein sat there beaming at me, sunglasses perched on her face—bare-faced, then, and still somehow glowing.

The seven-seater had been customized down to four, and the interior was cavernous.

"Nice to meet you. I've heard a great deal about you from Actress Song."

The manager in the driver's seat offered a greeting.

"That's my manager, Director Kang."

"Pleasure to meet you, Director."

We exchanged pleasantries, and then Haein shrugged.

"Being a top star, I don't exactly have options. I'd love to go to a café nearby, but if I showed up with you, we'd be headline news by tomorrow. 'Famous Actress in Secret Tryst with Bank Employee!'—that sort of thing."

"I wouldn't mind."

"Really? Because I wouldn't either. Director Kang, turn the car around. To the café!"

Director Kang, well used to this by now, waved off her demand without so much as a glance.

"She's joking. What would happen to an office worker who ended up in the news?"

"See? Sorry about the car, but shall we just talk here? So—you've suddenly decided you want to be an actor?"

"It's not that I'm sorry at all—honestly, it's an honor just to have you hear me out. It's just... a lot of things have happened lately, and the past kept coming back to me."

"The past?"

"Yes. However briefly, I once stood on a stage. Meeting you again, shooting the commercial—it all brought it back."

"That's understandable."

"You know how it is, Senior. I got divorced recently, work is exhausting and dull, and life just... wasn't fun anymore. But lately I've been thinking—what if I tried something new?"

A brief silence settled over the car. Then Song Haein removed her sunglasses and spoke.

"Dong-su, acting is not the easy road people imagine it to be. Chasing it just because your life is boring, because you're looking for a little fun—that is never a good reason. That's a dangerously careless choice."

"Dangerous... in what way?"

"Acting is a profession where you're judged, constantly. Perform well and you'll still get torn apart; perform badly and the cruelty only grows. The public is merciless. One failed project, and the opportunities might not come again for years. How would you survive in the meantime?"

"...I hadn't thought of that."

"And the stress. A film set is a war of stamina. All-nighters are the baseline, scripts change on a whim, and the demands of directors and writers never end. Lose your focus in front of the camera even once, and it's an immediate NG. Let that repeat, and your self-esteem starts to crumble. I cried every single day in the beginning."

"You did, Senior?"

"Of course. Behind every glamorous stage, there's always anxiety waiting. Ratings, box office, articles, comment sections—everything shakes you. The word 'celebrity' makes a person shine, yes, but it gnaws at them at the same time. You can basically forget having a private life, and relationships with family or a lover tend to suffer too."

"...Listening to you, it really doesn't sound easy at all."

"That's exactly why I'm telling you. You can't do this just because you're bored or life feels stale. Acting is a profession you cannot endure without passion, tenacity, and relentless self-discipline. You need certainty—certain that you truly love acting, and that you intend to survive on that stage."

Song Haein paused for a moment and gazed out the window. Seriousness was etched into her face, lit and shadowed by the passing sunlight.

"But... if you're prepared to shoulder all of that, then the path of an actor can become the most passionate, most beautiful ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠road there is. Whether you take it—that's a choice only you can make."

A choice only I can make.

She was right. Searching for something new simply because life had grown dull was a dangerous way to decide. No one could know how much stress waited inside that work until they'd lived it themselves.

Talking it through with my senior had helped enormously.

And then I made up my mind.

This was not something to rush into blindly.