Ugh, you don’t recognize me!
Yeon Su, who was currently starring in an SBC special historical drama, couldn’t erase her sullen expression. How long had she waited for the year-end acting awards? It wasn’t about the award. It was because she was eager to meet Yeongguk.
He didn’t even know I was in it.
Yeon Su already knew that Yeongguk had no interest in the historical drama she was in. Still, he didn’t even know they were on the same broadcasting station? The proof of that was the look on his face when he won earlier, as if to say, “Why are you even here?”
How could he not contact me even once?
Perhaps it was one-sided communication on her part. After all, the last time they met was at the Sehwa High School entrance briefing. Since then, Yeongguk hadn’t contacted her at all. She had consoled herself, thinking he must have been busy with movie shoots. But the fact that he didn’t recognize her even at the acting awards made her angry. It was only natural.
Even if she wanted to greet him, so many people wanted to greet Yeongguk. From broadcasting station staff to actors. It was impossible for the relatively short Yeon Su to be seen among them.
“How can he be so handsome?”
Another actress, who was also filming the historical drama with Yeon Su, muttered in admiration as she looked at Yeongguk on the stage. Yeon Su, suddenly angry, retorted.
“What’s so handsome about him? He looks just ordinary to me.”
“Really? It’s because you’re still young, Yeon Su. Look at those broad shoulders and how dependable he looks. Plus, his voice and eyes are so deep. He’s still young, but he’ll definitely make many women cry when he becomes an adult. Oh, Yeon Su, are you crying?”
Yeon Su’s eyes were welling up with tears. But with so many people around, she quickly erased her expression like a professional actress. She could taste blood from biting her cheek, but it was better than showing her emotions.
“Who’s crying? It’s just that dust got into my eyes.”
As Yeon Su wiped the dust from her eyes, Yeongguk’s acceptance speech for the Best Couple Award continued. When his face appeared large on the screen set up in the ceremony hall, not only the audience but even the actresses focused their attention on him. It was as if he were giving a speech for the Daesang. Yeon Su cautiously asked,
“Unnie, is Yeongguk-oppa really that popular among actresses?”
“I told you last time, right? Among the actresses in the agency, all they talk about is Jang Yeongguk. He’s been busy filming a movie lately, but during the drama shoot, it was all the rage. Even if you wanted to get close, he’s so young and manages himself so well that he doesn’t even talk to other actresses. I heard from a reporter I know that Seo Minhye, who won the couple award with him, tried to approach him but got shut down.”
“What?”
“Shh! It’s a secret. A secret.”
Although it was said to be a secret, it was probably safe to say that if her unnie knew, then everyone else did too. Now that she thought about it, Seo Minhye’s expression, as she looked at Yeongguk giving his acceptance speech, seemed unusual. Yeon Su sighed inwardly.
Not only were there many competitors, but they were all actresses famous for their beauty in South Korea.
“Should I try to get his number too?”
“No way!”
“What?”
“Unnie, didn’t the PD say that dating is strictly prohibited while filming the historical drama? And Yeongguk-oppa doesn’t even have a personal cell phone. His manager handles all his contacts.”
“Really? How do you know so well? And why ‘oppa’? Don’t tell me…”
She brushed it off by saying they had acted together as child actors three years ago. Soon, Yeongguk and Seo Minhye finished their acceptance speeches and came down from the stage. Yeon Su watched them with a look of regret. She wished she could be up there with them. At that moment…
Yeongguk suddenly changed direction as he came down from the stage.
“Oh my, he’s coming this way!”
The actress sitting next to Yeon Su was excited, thinking Yeongguk was coming toward her. If it wasn’t a live broadcast, she might have fixed her makeup. At that moment, Yeongguk reached Yeon Su and lightly hugged her.
It’s not uncommon for actors to greet each other after acceptance speeches. But Yeon Su never imagined Yeongguk would come to her. He gave her light hug and whispered,
“Why are you sulking today?”
The moment she heard Yeongguk’s voice, the emotions that had clouded her heart melted away like snow.
* * *
Just as there were gold, silver, and bronze medals in the Olympics, the Acting Awards had their own tiers. Every actor dreamt of winning the Daesang. The Youth drama team grew more excited as the acting awards ceremony progressed.
“At this rate, might you really win the Daesang, Yeongguk?”
“I don’t even hope for it.”
“Come on, don’t lie.”
Actress Seo Minhye asked, but it was true that Yeongguk wasn’t hoping for it. Youth had undoubtedly made a mark on SBC dramas with its high ratings and social impact. But in terms of artistic value, it was a different story.
I feel sorry for Writer Hwang.
The script was undoubtedly excellent, but it focused on appealing to female viewers. It depicted the romance of high school life, so it was more character-driven than story-driven. Hoping for the Daesang was a stretch. But thanks to it, he earned the title of “Nation’s First Love.” Considering he used to play thug roles, it was a significant leap forward.
“If Yeongguk wins the Daesang, he’ll be the youngest winner in the history of broadcasting awards, right?”
“He was also chosen as the actor most wanted to work with by PDs and won the Best Couple Award, so it’s not impossible.”
“That’s what I’m saying. At this rate, Yeongguk could achieve a triple crown in the future.”
The Triple Crown referred to an actor winning the Daesang in all three major broadcasting stations. Only one actor in the history of South Korean acting had achieved the Triple Crown: Ahn Jeonghyeon.
Although people often joked lightly about it, Ahn Jeonghyeon’s status among South Korean actors was immense. The title “Nation’s Actor” wasn’t given for nothing.
At that moment…
“We will now announce the Excellence Award.”
It’s an award similar to the bronze medal in the Olympics. Everyone swallowed nervously.
“The Excellence Award goes to Jang Yeongguk from the drama, Youth! Congratulations!”
My name was called. A moment of silence fell over the audience, followed by inexplicable cheers. The Youth drama team was also surprised. They never expected me to win the Excellence Award, let alone the Daesang. Given how popular Youth was among teens and twenty-somethings, it was a shock.
After the drama ended, there were many love calls from broadcasting stations and Chungmuro, but the most persistent love calls came from none other than SBC’s drama department. But each time, I had firmly declined, so it was somewhat expected.
Moreover, winning the Daesang at the age of eighteen was originally out of the question. Even winning the Excellence Award was something to be grateful for. But Seo Minhye still looked dissatisfied. It seemed as if she was disappointed, as if she hadn’t won the Daesang herself.
***
The Last Day of Filming.
“Oh, isn’t it the famous actor, Jang Yeongguk!”
The last day on set was more vibrant than ever. Starting with the camera director, all the department heads congratulated me and patted my head. Meanwhile, AD Kim Seokcheol sighed wistfully.
“I thought Yeongguk would win the Daesang.”
“Seokcheol, you clueless idiot!”
“I recognized him the moment I gave him three hand warmers. He really has no sense. Yeongguk, still, winning the excellence award at your age is truly impressive. I’ve never seen anyone win an excellence award at eighteen in my lifetime.”
“Ah, Park-sunbae, stop tormenting me. You’re choking me.”
The camera director, as if to punish him, grabbed AD Kim Seokcheol by the neck and dragged him around. Honestly, there was no lingering regret about not winning the Daesang.
“Yeongguk, I’m really sorry.”
Even at the after-party following the Acting Awards, PD Kim Jin bowed his head in apology, leaving me bewildered. Normally known for his playful and talkative nature, he had looked so serious and apologetic.
“Actually, the department head was in favor, but the higher-ups opposed it too strongly.”
Only after PD Kim Jin had several drinks did I learn the behind-the-scenes story of how I ended up with the Excellence Award.
SBC Broadcasting had opened a path for exporting Japanese rights for upcoming works. And to grease that path, they wanted me, the lead of the Youth, to go to Japan for a signing events and TV appearances, but I had declined every offer, which must have been disheartening for them.
I had been too busy with filming.
Perhaps because of that, I had become quite unpopular with the higher-ups at SBC Broadcasting.
After Youth ended, there were many offers from the broadcasting industry, but SBC stood out the most. It was as if they were determined not to lose the goose that lays golden eggs, offering me appearance fees that were several times higher than during Youth.
However, I flatly rejected the offer, even though they were willing to pay a huge fee, and I had also turned down the request to appear on Japan’s TBK Broadcasting, a partner company. To them, I must have seemed like an arrogant brat.
Tsk.
In a way, social relationships were a huge factor in award ceremonies. But it was fine. What’s the big deal about Daesang? After all, it was an award I couldn’t win in my past life. In some ways, winning the Daesang had been my final goal as an actor in my previous life. But now, it was different. I had vowed to live just as an actor.
From now on, I just won’t appear on SBC.
And since SBC Broadcasting ended things that way, I just needed to move on. To do that, I had to become a more outstanding actor. I needed to be an actor that every broadcasting company desired to work with.
The Priest’s Confession.
I could feel that this project would be the turning point in my acting career.
* * *
“Scene number 120, The Priest’s Confession―!”
The judge’s face was filled with signs of deep contemplation. Wasn’t it a case that had caused tremendous social upheaval? As evidence, many reporters were also present.
Who would have thought that the serial killer who shook South Korea was a priest, someone who walked the path of God? Although the opportunity to make a statement was given, the court-appointed lawyer for the defendant didn’t say a word.
That was because the defendant had continued to exercise his right to remain silent even after being handed over to the prosecution. Moreover, he hadn’t provided any details about the case to his assigned public defender. The journalists observing the trial were more eager to know what was going on, seeing his refusal to deny or admit anything.
Then it happened.
“Pride, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony, sloth, greed.”
A voice suddenly came from the defendant’s seat, about four meters from the judge’s bench. It was Father Matthew, still dressed in his black cassock. As his sentence had not been finalized, he wasn’t required to wear prison clothes. Thus, it was as if an impossible image was being presented, with the judge’s robe and the priest’s cassock facing each other.
“How can you overlook the inconvenient truths born from the sins of the wicked? I am not the one before the cross, so I have no intention of absolving them. Therefore, I punished them with my own hands and brought their sins back upon their heads.”
He said it in a solemn tone.
“Do they seem to wish for forgiveness for the wrongs they have committed? As they stand in this cold courtroom, their cries toward those of you in judicial robes are not of reflection and repentance, but lies, merely a means to escape their own sins.”
The judge, prosecutor, and the reporters in the audience swallowed hard.
“Why does the world continue to produce countless evildoers without purging them? All of this lies within the loose chains that allow them to be neglected and set free.”
The priest in the black cassock raised his head and looked at the judge seated at the top.
“Brother, does the law truly exist?”
When the trial ended and the first sentence was confirmed, South Korea was once again in an uproar. A young priest had been sentenced to death for the murder of seven people. The priest had even accepted the sentence.
However, the reason South Korea was in an uproar was because of the seven people the priest had murdered. Various media outlets detailed the sins of those seven people as revealed by the priest’s statements in court.
[A priest who executed evildoers, is he a saint or a murderer?]
[Where does the debt of South Korean criminal law point?]
[Does justice exist in South Korea?]
Time passed. The convict, sentenced to death, sat alone in his solitary cell, basking in the sunlight streaming through a slightly larger-than-hand-sized window. Through the bars, he could see the endlessly clear sky. Unlike other death row inmates, he did not yearn for freedom like a bird in the sky but instead wondered if He was above those birds.
“Prisoner number 2981, visitation.”
He knew there was no one to visit him. The hand of the guard escorting him trembled. The convict silently held the guard’s trembling hand, giving a look that said not to worry. The convict knew what day it was today.
Once, South Korea had been in an uproar dealing with the priest-turned-murderer, but just as a hot fire eventually turned to ashes, people’s interest gradually waned. The convict wordlessly followed the guard to the execution chamber.
“Matthew.”
There, the wardens and the prison warden, as well as reporters and a priest dispatched from his church, awaited the convict. The priest was a classmate from seminary who had been ordained alongside him. The gentle-looking priest, with glasses, had a complex expression on his face. He spoke to his classmate and fellow priest who had walked the path of the clergy with him.
“Matthew, or should I say Mujin, if you have any last words, now is the time.”
The convict smiled calmly and said,
“As the reflections on the wicked fade, the world will forget it with the word ‘oblivion’ and once again stand by the wicked. Therefore, I will remain arrogant until the end.”
The priest with glasses recited a prayer for the convict with a complex mix of emotions. The convict expressed deep gratitude to the guards who had looked after him all this time. To a stranger, he might have seemed like a priest going to pray rather than someone about to face death, given his solemn demeanor.
Eventually, a long cloth covered his face, and a thick, long rope was tied around his neck. In the pitch-black darkness where nothing could be seen, he quietly uttered his final words.
“Lord, punish me.”
