That's His Name
I was still mulling that over when my grandfather shot to his feet.
"Almost missed it."
Wondering what was going on, I got up too—only for him to stride straight into the back room of the shop where the TV was set up and sit himself down. He turned it on immediately, and what he put on was Love in the Moon. Right, it was broadcast time.
"Seriously? Your grandson's sitting right here and you're watching a drama?"
He answered without looking away.
"Gyeoul's in it too, you know."
"And the actual person is right here."
"If I don't watch this, I can't keep up with conversation these days. Go on, stop bothering me."
He was actually kicking me out so he could watch the show. It seemed my grandfather liked the Moon Gyeoul on television more than his real-life grandson.
Well, either way, he liked me. That was enough.
As I left the shop, I couldn't help thinking that the time had come. On the drive back to set, Do Jaeyeon, behind the wheel, spoke up.
"The production company's pushing the article out right away. They basically said do whatever you want. I guess they like you to death."
"Then push it, obviously."
I didn't know if it would actually help. But one thing was certain: it would be difficult for Lee Kyunghoon to keep working as a police officer.
And this time, there wouldn't even be a shred of honor left for him to protect.
Lee Sunggyu ran into the article at school. A chill crawled up from the base of his spine.
When he entered the small theater to prepare for the school's production of Mandragora, he felt the glares. He had bent over backward to get cast in the show starring Son Jion and Han Dohyun, and now Son Jion's eyes as she glanced at him were ice-cold. She was someone who almost never showed emotion, so this open, undisguised disgust was so unlike her that it hit him all the harder.
Sunggyu moved to preempt it.
"I grew up getting beaten by my father too. Obviously I'm on Heeyoon's side, and I'm rooting for him."
He said it without even meaning to. But mercifully, the looks around him shifted. He pressed on.
"I should have cut ties with him ages ago……"
"Sounds like you've been through it too."
One of the seniors clapped him on the shoulder.
While all this was going on, there was one person who clearly had no interest in the whole affair—someone whose face Sunggyu didn't know, but recognized all the same. A big man, wrapped head to toe in a restless, volatile energy.
Han Dohyun made the introduction.
"You know Han Jeonghyeon, right? He's the hottest thing in theater right now. He's in the same year as your cousin, actually. I asked him to sit in on our rehearsal."
Just as Han Dohyun said, Han Jeonghyeon was currently the most talked-about name on the theater scene. Seeing him up close, Sunggyu shrank instinctively. This was someone who would become a star even if he couldn't act at all. He had a face that burned itself into memory after a single glance. He looked dangerous, and yet Sunggyu wanted to get closer. He figured that must be what innate charisma was.
And that same Han Jeonghyeon looked to be the least interested person in the room regarding the article. If anything, he seemed annoyed that rehearsal was being held up by pointless gossip.
Come to think of it, Han Jeonghyeon was in the same school and same year as Lee Heeyoon. They'd have to know each other.
He considered striking up a conversation about it—but couldn't bring himself to. The man was three years younger, and yet there was something about him that pressed down strangely.
In the meantime, classmates and seniors started asking Sunggyu questions.
"You're cutting him off? Your own father?"
"Man, forget the nephew—your situation's rough……"
As they offered their consolations, Han Jeonghyeon rose from his seat. Han Dohyun hurriedly grabbed his arm.
"Hey, where are you going?"
"We're not even starting."
"We're starting now. Give me five minutes."
He barely managed to drag the man back into his chair.
Pressed along by Han Jeonghyeon's impatience, things got moving quickly, and the rehearsal began. The acting students carried Mandragora forward in a cheerful, easygoing mood.
Even without Han Jeonghyeon, there was a decent-sized audience—mostly friends who'd been invited to objectively point out problems with the rehearsal.
When it ended, those invited guests delivered their feedback like a panel of judges, listing the production's flaws one by one.
Sunggyu, who'd heard nothing from Han Jeonghyeon, finally worked up the nerve to approach him.
"Excuse me."
At the call, Han Jeonghyeon—who had just stood from his chair—slung his bag over one shoulder and turned around. He'd felt it from a distance, but up close the pressure was even worse.
"Are you close with Lee Heeyoon? And outside of screen stuff—have you ever seen him do theater?"
"Not close. But I've seen his stage work."
The corner of Han Jeonghyeon's mouth curled up. He'd looked annoyed at being addressed, but the moment Heeyoon's name came up, his interest flickered to life and he turned his body back toward Sunggyu. Relieved, Sunggyu asked carefully.
"What do you think, as his friend? Of Lee Heeyoon's acting."
"What kind of question is that?"
"I mean, for example…… compared to me."
"How would anyone compare an amateur to a professional? Most professionals can't do what Heeyoon does."
"No, I know that. I mean style-wise, not skill. I'm trying to decide what direction to build my filmography in."
"Hm."
Han Jeonghyeon thought for a moment, then gave his answer.
"Skill can be built. Style is what you're born with."
"Right?"
"I can't judge your skill, since I have no idea how you'll develop from here on."
And then, with a face utterly devoid of malice, Han Jeonghyeon continued.
"But setting skill aside, the two of you aren't even in the same league. Heeyoon was born with everything, and you're just—you know. You're decent-looking, but it's a common kind of decent. Your presence is ordinary. And from what I just saw, your acting's not much either."
"Wh-what the hell, man?"
"That's the answer on style. Even if Heeyoon swore off acting tomorrow, the whole world would come dragging him back. Nobody's going to do that for you, sunbae."
"……"
"That's the difference, I'd say."
With that, he called out to Han Dohyun, who was standing near the stage.
"Not good. Practice more. I'm leaving."
"Ah, you f***ing dog of a……"
"Yeah, my dad is a dog, true."
Han Jeonghyeon tossed out something impossible to read as joke or truth, and walked out of the small theater.
Sunggyu stood there in a daze, then felt something surge up in his chest and turned to Han Dohyun.
"Sunbae, why would that bastard say something like that?"
"Eh, that's just how he is."
Han Dohyun, tidying up the stage, went on.
"But he's only like that to me. Don't go repeating it to other people."
"Ah—s-sorry."
Han Dohyun, who Sunggyu had always thought was remarkably gentle and slow to anger, turned out to be a true son of his house after all: the moment someone crossed his line, he warned them off in no uncertain terms.
As they cleaned up the stage together and Sunggyu's head began to clear, one of his classmates came up to him.
"Sunggyu, I know a hyung who's a reporter…… I'm really sorry, but could you do one interview?"
"What kind of interview?"
"It might be uncomfortable for you."
The classmate hesitated, then went on.
"About your father abusing actor Lee Heeyoon."
"……"
The articles carried that implication, but hearing it said outright made him freeze. The classmate continued.
"You're a victim too, right? So testify through the reporter, draw your line. How about it? He says he'll write the article well for you. He's really desperate for it."
"Is publishing articles about Lee Heeyoon that important?"
"We've got some name recognition, but nothing like Heeyoon. With older audiences, apparently he's basically hitting like their own son coming home with bruises. Seriously, this is huge."
Sunggyu took several deep breaths.
Not because he was wrestling with the decision. It simply looked like there was no other way. His father had been given a chance, and out of pure greed he was now harming his own son.
Rage at the world boiled up in him. After that conversation just now, even his inferiority complex toward Lee Heeyoon caught fire—it felt like a fuse had been lit at his very core.
One thing at a time, he thought. That was where he had to start.
"I'll do it. The interview."
When the articles went live, Lee Heeyoon's uncle Lee Kyunghoon was on duty at the station.
"What? What is it now?"
For a brief moment, Lee Kyunghoon felt as if he'd fallen into a video game.
"There's an article out about you."
The moment he took the article from his colleague, his mind went black.
That was what it said. And it was not just one article. They kept coming, one after another.
His breath caught in his throat. Just then, the station doors opened and an old woman he'd crossed paths with on the beat several times walked in, heading straight for him.
"You rotten, worthless excuse for a human being!"
Other officers came over to break it up, but the effort was pure theater. If anything, their faces looked like they were speaking on behalf of everyone's true feelings.
Lee Kyunghoon saw it with terrible clarity. There would never be a promotion. Not ever.
Then he heard a citizen muttering curses nearby.
"Ah, f***. Even his own son, too."
"……What about a son?"
Certain it was about him, he rushed over and snatched the phone right out of the man's hands.
His son was selling him out. The article ran on and on, cataloging just how badly Lee Kyunghoon had abused Lee Sunggyu over the years.
"Unbelievable. That f***ing dog."
"No wonder people say cops and gangsters are the same thing. He's shaming the entire police force."
The thought that he might have to quit the force entirely, and the horrifying knowledge that his own son had sold him out for an interview, churned together into something unbearable.
Lee Kyunghoon had always believed the police was an honorable profession.
Now that honor hadn't merely been tarnished—it had been inverted, flipped inside out, until his name was becoming a garbage bin stuffed with scandal.
The day the articles dropped.
Worried about my state of mind, the staff rearranged my shooting schedule, so I got today and tomorrow completely off.
When I got back to Wooheonjeong, I told CEO Gam Seongbeom, who had driven me home:
"I'm turning my phone off and sleeping."
"Yeah, do that. I'll wake you. Anything you need, tell me now."
"There is something."
"What?"
"I want to go see Voyage of Evil. Today and tomorrow, right?"
In my hands was Hamlet, its very last words freshly read. I had deliberately set the article's release date for today and tomorrow—because there was a play I wanted to see. A production running this Friday and Saturday.
"Ah, that one. You know theater's gone insane lately, right? Every time that kid puts on a show, it sells out instantly. I'm not sure you can even get tickets now."
So it was sold out. I had no idea.
I nodded vaguely and pressed on.
"I'll ask him. He'll give me tickets."
"You're that close? You've never even mentioned him before."
"We're not close. I'll get them anyway."
I was certain of it.
He would want me to come see his play.
With that request made, I turned off my phone. In the meantime, CEO Gam Seongbeom had already called the theater. And my eyes drifted to him of their own accord as he spoke.
"Yes, actor Han Jeonghyeon. Oh, Heeyoon's tickets were set aside in advance? Yes, yes. Then we'll work around tomorrow's schedule."
He hung up and turned to me.
"Hey, it's real? Actor Han Jeonghyeon set aside your tickets from the very start. Are you two seriously not close?"
Han Jeonghyeon.
I couldn't hear it clearly. Tinnitus blurred the sound in my ears. But because of that very ringing, it became certain instead.
So that's his name.