A Family of Three Words
I thought back to before the regression.
Back then, I used to call home now and then. Funny, when you think about it—I actually thought of that place as home. Which was kind of amusing in its own way.
I occasionally ate meals at my uncle's house. And by occasionally, I mean on holidays. Lunar New Year and Chuseok. Just those two days a year, and yet back then, the mere fact that I had somewhere to go on holidays had made me happy.
Until my work dried up and I went into hiding, that was what family meant to me. Once my career ended, the contact ended too. I have no idea how he and his son lived after that. Seonggyu landed minor roles in dramas and films now and then, but never a leading part.
In the end, that's all it was. I needed somewhere to go on holidays. That single reason was why I kept sending money all those years, why I clung to that faint thread called family.
This Chuseok, I spent one night at Park Seonyoung's family home with Gam Seongbeom's family, then a night at my maternal grandfather's house. Park Seonyoung's home was lively and loud; at my grandfather's, the two of us exchanged exactly three sentences. You came?—Yes. How old are you again?—Eighteen. Come again sometime.—Yes.
Even at mealtimes, a single cough meant *eat*, and another cough meant *sleep*. Just three sentences, and yet somehow it wasn't awkward at all. My grandfather's house, scrubbed clean of every bottle of alcohol, was packed with wooden plaques and name boards, and the scent of wood hung in the air all day.
I don't expect to spend every New Year and Chuseok like that. Park Seonyoung invites me every year, but I figure you can only crash someone else's family holiday so many times. Of course, the family of the actor those two considered an adopted son did visit the following day—but that was a bond decades deep.
Either way, even if my holidays stay lonely from now on, I need to settle this first.
When I told one of them had to quit his job, Seonggyu froze for a moment, then clicked his tongue.
"You're really cutting ties with us for good?"
"Yep."
"What, are we dating or something?"
"Don't ask stupid questions. Just decide this: talk it over and tell me where to send it."
"You insane bastard……"
"Hyung, the number of people I know in this industry is only going to grow."
"……"
"I'm not just saying don't hire you. I'm saying I watched you beat the crap out of me as a kid, and I don't want to see you on my screen. What producer in their right mind would cast you?"
"……Fuck."
Seonggyu's leg started bouncing. A habit he'd barely managed to kick for his acting career, resurfacing in an instant. I went on.
"Your father loves you, at least. So tell him to retire and rest at home. Quietly. Don't cause any trouble."
"Hey, wait—say my father does quit. It doesn't end there, does it? If I ever get famous, you're gonna wreck me, aren't you?"
"So you *are* confident you'll get famous."
"What kind of person becomes an actor without even that much confidence?"
Fair enough. I wouldn't know—I only became an actor because I was shoved into it.
I handed him the documents.
"I won't. It's over. I'm not going to make you sign some pledge just because you don't trust me. Just trust me."
"……"
"I don't pull dirty tricks."
I said my piece, and Seonggyu stared at me, drilling holes into my face. I meant every word. After a long moment, Seonggyu finally spoke, then said as he got out of the car:
"I'll ask him."
And the car door closed.
Moments later, Gam Seongbeom came back and climbed in.
"He'll do it?"
"Yes."
"You believe him?"
"Seems to."
"Well, you're not the type to say something twice if you don't like it yourself. And he did live under the same roof—he should know your personality."
Gam Seongbeom said this, then turned to look at me.
"But seriously—that guy. You'll really leave Seonggyu alone if just your uncle quits?"
"That was the deal. Seonggyu can't survive once his money runs out anyway, so there's no need to touch him."
"Man, this is so unfair."
Gam Seongbeom was more worked up over my situation than I was. His face said he wasn't ready to let it end here. I turned to him.
"Don't do anything reckless."
"Why are *you* the one saying that to *me*, you punk?"
Well, fair enough. Sure, I'd caused plenty of small messes, but the big disasters were always his. After all, the inferiority complex of a man who never once earned his father's approval had hobbled Gam Seongbeom his entire life.
Things between father and son had improved a little since the last time, if only because I'd come to live at Wooheonjeong—but the unease was still there.
Gam Seongbeom had vanished somewhere right after Gam Soohan passed away. I knew he was someone who buried a great deal of anger inside.
Before heading back to the office, Gam Seongbeom pulled a proposal out of the glove box and handed it to me.
"Director Choi Seongho is preparing a film."
"Oh."
A director whose name appeared regularly at international award ceremonies. I studied the proposal. Gam Seongbeom went on.
"The weekend drama's nice and all, but isn't it too long? The only reason we were even considering it was because it was hard to get your guardian's approval, and now your guardian's changed…… Don't you want to at least audition for this?"
"Let me finish reading it first."
"Right, yes, of course."
I read Director Choi Seongho's proposal carefully. At a glance, it was an intense crime film—exactly the kind of thing the director excelled at.
Word had it that anyone who landed a role in a Choi Seongho film, even a supporting one, was set for life in the industry. That was how influential he was.
I let myself want it, reading through the proposal at a deliberate pace. But the role Gam Seongbeom had marked was, any way you looked at it, far out of reach for me—looks-wise, age-wise, everything.
Gam Seongbeom hadn't wanted me joining a fifty-episode weekend drama in the first place. I set the proposal down.
"Hyung. No—Boss."
"Yeah."
"I'll admit, there's something to the idea that weekend dramas flatten your image. But do you know what I want most?"
"……To be called by your character's name?"
"Yes. And what about a weekend drama would ever get me that?"
At my words, Gam Seongbeom let out a long sigh.
"How do you keep saying exactly what my father used to say?"
"Do I?"
"Yeah. He loved being called by his character names too, honestly. When I was your age, I just couldn't understand it."
The way he talked about his father was clearly different from before the regression. Back then, he'd almost never brought Gam Ihyun up at all, and when he did, it was mostly disparagement—that lousy father who knew nothing but acting.
But it seemed that before Gam Ihyun passed, the two of them had somehow talked—perhaps even through me as the bridge—because Gam Seongbeom's feelings toward his father had shifted considerably from before. The longing had grown. Which worried me a little more. The more you love, the more you get hurt—that was a lesson I'd learned from countless stories.
Gam Seongbeom spoke.
"Fine. Do what you want."
"I was going to anyway."
"Hah…… You joined this company, hanging on by a thread, just so you could live exactly as you please?"
"Obviously."
"Right. Smart kid. Good for you."
The car pulled away from the university.
* * *
The moment Seonggyu got home, he went looking for his father.
"What's this? You coming home at this hour?"
Since entering university, he'd almost never returned home the same day. Even on the rare occasions he did, it was after losing money at cards, so his father looked puzzled.
But Lee Kyunghoon quickly caught the stiffness in his son's face and realized he had something to say. Seonggyu spoke up.
"Lee Heeyoon says he's going to block my career."
"……What?"
"If you retire, he says he'll forget everything."
It took Lee Kyunghoon a moment to grasp what his son meant, and then his temper spread like wildfire.
"Fuck…… You saw it yourself, didn't you? That bastard's always scratching at people. He earned every beating he got—what's he gonna do about it?"
"There's evidence of the beatings, but no evidence I *deserved* them. Dad, I'm twenty-one now. I don't want to walk around with a time bomb strapped to my back."
"So you're telling me to retire? Is that it?"
"You'd take it lightly coming from me, wouldn't you? But the fact is you beat that kid half to death. And not just at home—at film sets too. If Lee Heeyoon stirs things up, plenty of working actors will testify. Anyone can see I'm the one who loses here. Just retire with your dignity intact and stay home, Dad."
"How is that a *dignified* retirement!"
"Augh, Dad. You're going to do it anyway. It's not like you'd actually block my future—you're just throwing a tantrum right now. I'm stepping out for a bit, so calm down and think it over."
Armed with the unshakable conviction that his father would give things up for him, Seonggyu stepped outside.
It would take time, sure, but there was no way his father wouldn't retire. The problem was money. Seonggyu took a drag off his e-cigarette and grumbled.
"Ugh, fucking hell. How do I have no money?"
His youngest uncle had left behind a decent amount, so they'd lived relatively comfortably. But Seonggyu had saved nothing, and what remained was a single house. On top of that, his father would retire early, Heeyoon's money would stop coming in, and Seonggyu himself would have no income for a while.
The thought of money left him feeling lost—and suddenly, it wasn't Heeyoon he resented most, but his father. Where the hell had all that money gone? The amount actually spent on raising Seonggyu was about what any family spends on a child. The rest had all been dumped into stocks, then whatever wasn't lost there had melted away on nothing—drinking money and other petty spending.
One way or another, money worried him, that much was true, but there was nothing to be done about it. Perhaps because he'd never once worried about money in his life, he felt adrift—and at the same time, strangely certain that things would somehow work out.
First, put out the fire closest at hand.
And then he had to catch up to Lee Heeyoon fast—and surpass him.