Chapter 143
Chapter 143
Filicide (1)
“You’ve lost some weight.”
“I was trying to lose more, but I ran out of time.”
“I think you look fine as you are, though.”
Filming began almost as soon as the contract was signed. Thanks to the wrap-up of ‘However,’ securing a crew was no issue, and the ample funding made it all possible.
“Oh man, of all days, it had to be a record-breaking cold snap… You’ll be okay?”
“Can’t be helped.”
Director Kim Jae-ho paced back and forth, trying to stay warm. Park Seung-hwan was still on his diet, and today, they were only filming Yu Yeon-seo. There was a scene that absolutely had to be shot during this time of year.
“Should we tone down his complexion?”
“In this cold, pale is better. The wounds will show up more clearly.”
“Should I wrinkle the school uniform more?”
The makeup team moved about busily. Yu Yeon-seo sat still, letting them create wounds on his face. Lee Tae-gyeom, who had been doing something in the car, handed him some clothes.
“Hey, it’s all set.”
“Oh, thanks… What is this, a suit of armor?”
“Better than freezing to death, isn’t it? Hey, stick these on the soles of your feet too.”
Yu Yeon-seo let out a hollow laugh at the sight of the adhesive heat packs plastered all over the clothes. He handed over the long padded coat he was wearing and changed into them.
In ‘Filicide,’ Hwang Min-jae was from a low-income, single-parent household. He was a high school student who survived even a cold snap like this with nothing but a worn-out hoodie, lacking a proper padded coat.
“Man, you’ve basically made an electric blanket. It’ll ruin the realism.”
“In this cold? Just showing your face will be enough. Your nose is already red.”
“Is it? That’s good, then.”
Yu Yeon-seo looked in the mirror. His hair was styled like a student’s, with bruises around his eyes and a split lip. The cold had turned his nose and ears bright red.
After changing into his uniform, he stood a short distance from the set and gazed up at the sky. Everyone knew this was his preparation for getting into character, so no one disturbed him.
“Is he not cold?”
“He must be.”
Just in case, Lee Tae-gyeom and Im Seung-hyeon stayed out of the car, keeping an eye on him.
‘At this point in time, Hwang Min-jae has just held his mother’s funeral and has only recently been left all alone.’
His body was gradually recovering its past. Now, when he thought of family, his brother and parents came to mind first. So in times like these, reviving the memories of his soul helped with immersion.
Kang Jin-hu had been born with genetically modified genes to become a soldier. But that didn’t mean his emotions were gone. There were times when he, too, would watch old video clips and imagine what it would be like to have a family.
‘Why do I only have a mom?’
‘It’s cold… I wish I’d been born rich.’
‘No, just having both parents alive, and maybe grandparents…’
He revived the emptiness and loneliness of being left alone on the battlefield and channeled it into Hwang Min-jae. Then, he persistently answered questions like, what would a kid his age in these circumstances be thinking?
His gaze changed, and Yu Yeon-seo returned to the set. His usual upright posture and confident stride were gone. He walked with a hunched back, as if shrunken from the cold, dragging his worn-out sneakers.
“…Let’s begin.”
He exhaled, his breath turning to mist. The eyes visible through the vapor held no hope. Seeing him, a flicker of light appeared in Director Kim Jae-ho’s eyes.
Hwang Min-jae’s first appearance is him getting punched by someone. As Bully 1, a minor actor Yu Yeon-seo had arbitrarily named Cheol-su, threw a punch into the air, Hwang Min-jae was sent tumbling into a pile of trash with a loud clatter.
Yu Yeon-seo was famous for his physical acting, so the camera silently captured his performance, which looked as if he had actually been hit.
“You think you’re hot shit just because you’re kinda good-looking?”
“Is it my fault your face looks like it went through a blender?”
“What? This bastard.”
Unwilling to back down verbally, Hwang Min-jae’s defiance made Cheol-su swing his fist again. Hit on the other cheek, Hwang Min-jae groaned in pain but didn’t stop his provocations.
“Even if you beat me up like this, Lee Ye-ji, she’s not gonna like you.”
“This son of a bitch…”
Grabbed by the collar, Hwang Min-jae squeezed his eyes shut. But the punch never came. Instead, Cheol-su loosened his grip and dusted off Hwang Min-jae’s shoulders.
“Hey, I heard your mom croaked. What are you gonna do now?”
Rage mingled with the resignation in Hwang Min-jae’s eyes. He would have rather been hit. Anything but being mocked like this.
“Your mom was an orphan too, right? So you’ve got no family, nothing? You were always a beggar anyway.”
“…”
“Poor Min-jae, what’s he gonna do? You think you can even stay in school?”
“You son of a bitch…!”
Hwang Min-jae, who had been passively taking the beating, shot up and lunged at Cheol-su. But it’s not easy to win against a group. The other delinquents following Cheol-su tripped him and lightly slapped his head, their taunts unending.
“Doesn’t his mom work at night?”
“Whoa, you think she does that kind of work? Fucking disgusting.”
“No, she doesn’t!”
Hwang Min-jae’s mother had worked at a late-night logistics center. Because it paid more. She had worked her body to the bone until she collapsed, never to open her eyes again. But to them, his words didn’t matter.
“Why are you getting so worked up? Your mom’s already dead. There’s no one to hear you.”
“This bastard’s a mama’s boy.”
“Haha! Loser.”
He’s thrown to the ground pathetically, unable to even land a punch. They watch with cackles as he props himself up on his hands, groaning.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing!”
“Ah, shit.”
At that moment, a shout from a window sent the delinquents scattering. Left behind, Hwang Min-jae let out a pained sound as he struggled to his feet and retrieved his bag, which had been tossed into a trash can.
“Are you okay?”
“…Yes.”
“Let’s go to the nurse’s office.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
His homeroom teacher knew Hwang Min-jae was being bullied like this. But he had no intention of resolving it.
So he offered pathetic comfort to reassure himself, ‘I didn’t turn a blind eye,’ but provided no actual help for his situation.
“I’m leaving.”
“Min-jae. Hwang Min-jae!”
He limped, having twisted something when he fell. His pace was slow, yet the teacher only shouted after him, never making a move to stop him.
Leaving the school gates, Hwang Min-jae heads home. With no money for the bus, he walks the cold streets. He sniffles from the cold. He pauses for a moment in front of a snack shop, only to check his pockets and find he has just 200 won.
He swallows hard at the sight of the fish cake skewers, then resumes his shuffling walk home. Down an alley filled with unmanaged trash and strange graffiti on the walls, to the very end.
“I’m ho…”
Creeak. He opened the old front door. It was a small, single room, left untended for days during the funeral.
“…me.”
Hwang Min-jae, who had spoken out of habit, felt the cold, lifeless floor. He tossed his bag aside and opened the rice cooker. He scooped the dried-out rice, which had not been kept warm, into a bowl and sniffed it, checking if it had gone bad.
‘This should be fine.’
He tried to act nonchalant, pushing his lower lip up. He turned and opened the small refrigerator. Inside were side dishes his mother had made when she was alive.
‘Should I eat them?’
Hwang Min-jae’s fingertips hesitated as he reached for them. The containers didn’t have much left. If he ate this, another thing touched by his mother’s hands would be gone.
In the end, he withdrew his hand, plopped down on the floor, and poured water over the cold rice.
“Thank you for the meal.”
He spoke to the empty air and began to eat with a spoon.
(Hey, I heard your mom croaked. What are you gonna do now?)
Hwang Min-jae’s core characteristic was a lack of affection. The act of eating was not just to satisfy hunger, but also an attempt to fill the void of being left alone.
“Ugh…”
He took a large spoonful and forced it down. The cut on his lip stung, making one eye twitch.
On the shelf above, an array of small cosmetic sample bottles—he couldn’t afford the full-sized products—lay in disarray next to utility bills and a note from the landlord demanding rent. It was cold, as the boiler wasn’t on, and the blanket he pulled over himself seemed to retain his mother’s scent.
“Ugh…”
As soon as he smelled it, the emotions Hwang Min-jae had been trying to suppress burst forth. Mom, where did you go? Leaving me all alone… He took another large spoonful of rice and stuffed his mouth full. See, I told you I’d work instead. Why did you have to leave like that… You were all I had.
‘Mom.’
It was a heavy word for both Yu Yeon-seo and Hwang Min-jae. He had tried to create a fictional mother to immerse himself in the role, but the word inevitably made him think of someone else.
The moment she came to mind, he felt ‘it’ blurring his vision.
[Yeon-seo.]
A hallucinated whisper near his ear made him choke on the rice he was forcing down.
“Ugh…! Cough!”
Rice he couldn’t swallow sprayed onto the floor. He clamped a hand over his mouth, gagging as he tried to swallow. His eyes reddened and filled with tears as a physiological response. Soon, it turned into sorrow, and tears fell in droplets.
It was, of course, a mistake, an action not in the script or the storyboard. But Director Kim didn’t yell cut. If anything, it seemed more natural.
“Huuuh…”
Once the tears started, they were impossible to stop. Sobbing with rice stuck to his lips, he was a pathetic and miserable sight. It was a scene that perfectly illustrated Hwang Min-jae’s circumstances. Yu Yeon-seo was not afraid to look broken.
He hiccups and sobs, forcing himself to finish the rice in the bowl.
“Cut! Great!”
At the director’s shout, Yu Yeon-seo stopped and let out a sigh. The moment he had thought of Lee Hui-seo, his immersion had been broken. It was a relief he had managed to get through it with some ad-libbing.
‘That was dangerous…’
He had swallowed blood along with the rice. He took a tissue from a staff member and wiped his eyes. He went straight to the monitor and was quite satisfied with his performance on screen.
“Yeon-seo, what do you think? I think it was brilliant.”
“…Yes.”
“Alright, let’s move on to the next scene then.”
“Just a moment.”
He needed time to regain his scattered focus.
While searching for a first-aid kit to treat the wounds from the bullies, Hwang Min-jae discovers a photograph inside his mother’s diary.
‘…What is this?’
Hwang Min-jae’s eyes trembled. The man in the photo, with his arm around his mother’s shoulder, bore a strong resemblance to him. Anyone could see he was his father.
On the back of the photo was the name Hwang Jun-ho, along with an address. If he went to this address… could he meet his father?
The thought sparked an impulse. He hastily shoved a few things into his bag and rushed out of the house.
“Hey! Hwang Min-jae! Where are you going?”
“If you’ve got nothing better to do, go buy us some bread.”
Hwang Min-jae flipped his middle finger at the rowdy delinquents across the street and boarded a bus.
“Student. You still looking?”
“I’m sorry. I must not have brought it. I’ll get off at the next stop.”
The student had been fumbling through his pockets for a while, his face covered in wounds. The bus driver scowls.
“Aish… Just get on.”
“Thank you.”
As Hwang Min-jae turned his back to the driver and moved inside, his expression changed. It was the smirk of someone who knew exactly how to ride the bus without paying.
The camera pans from the glamorous city visible behind the bus to the path Hwang Min-jae walks. A shabby neighborhood with narrow, winding, and steep streets, where houses barely had addresses on their doors, making them hard to find.
“Excuse me… do you know where number 311 is?”
“311? Uh… Oh! You mean old man Hwang’s place? It’s over there…”
After asking around for a while, Hwang Min-jae finally found the address from the photo. He took a few deep breaths and pressed the doorbell.