-10-
Hangeul, feeling the piercing gaze staring at him, spoke first.
“It’s a novel. The genre is romance.”
He introduced it as a new book by his favorite author and kindly showed Bunhong the cover.
Then Hangeul’s manager, who was driving in the front seat, casually spoke to him.
“Tsk. Are you still reading that?”
At the somewhat reproachful tone, Hangeul firmly cut him off.
“Leave it alone. I’m experimenting to see if acting can also be learned through study.”
Besides books, Hangeul had started learning acting since his trainee days. It wasn’t a class he took with the intention of becoming an actor from the beginning—it was just formal.
The agency wanted trainees to have a certain level of culture even if they didn’t go to school, and acting was something he learned additionally, like foreign language classes.
Honestly, Hangeul had asked, not understanding why he had to do such things at first.
‘Dancing and singing are already overwhelming. Do I really have to do this too?’
‘Especially you, Hangeul, you must learn it. Because you’re handsome.’
Those were the words of the teacher who taught him acting back then, comforting the tired Hangeul of that time.
Because you’re handsome, you must act.
He came to understand the meaning of those words after establishing himself somewhat as an idol with some years of experience. Because, just as those words suggested, he naturally came to act.
‘Face genius.’ The public remembered that nickname better than the name ‘Oh Hangeul.’ Or as ‘actress Yoon Hira’s son.’
Actually, neither was particularly pleasant. It meant his own presence wasn’t that significant.
The first comment Hangeul happened to see in the review section of his first screen work debut under his own name was this:
-It’s just like Oh Hangeul’s photo book itself.
Since it was the top comment in the reviews, it meant it had received many ‘likes,’ and hurt by the sharp criticism, Hangeul really worked hard. So that the title ‘actor’ in front of his name wouldn’t be embarrassing.
Idol life was honestly not difficult. Showing off on stage really suited his aptitude. But acting wasn’t.
His exceptionally handsome appearance quite often helped Hangeul secure leading roles, and the genre he was cast in was mostly romance.
It was similar repertoire every time. In dramas, the male lead had to be rich, handsome, and a lover. Moreover, he mainly played roles saving the female lead from crises.
No matter what hardships and adversities came, that rule never changed. Because the male lead loved the female lead. All plausibility stemmed from there.
Not understanding, Hangeul asked himself:
‘What is love?’
No matter how much he flipped through scripts, he couldn’t understand the emotional lines at all. He wasn’t even interested. A gunfight happening in broad daylight seemed more meaningful than suddenly kissing in a coffee shop.
That’s why he started reading romance novels voraciously. He thought if he properly understood the emotion called love, he could overcome his long slump and show the excellent acting everyone praised endlessly.
Hoping that someday he could remove the tag of ‘acting controversy’ and flatten the noses of anti-fans who mocked him.
He explained it as an investment for that day, but no one understood his grand dream.
They said he was conducting meaningless experiments. Rather, everyone dissuaded such Hangeul, telling him to sue instead.
But not caring, today too Hangeul steadfastly turns pages even in the shaking car.
The printed text in the book. It would be nice if he could chew and swallow the words. If he could do that, couldn’t he acquire it all at once? Thinking this, Hangeul began to slowly read the written sentences aloud.
“The man bought flowers.”
At the predictable first sentence of the romance novel, Hangeul’s radar naturally began to activate.
‘What if she has allergies?’
Of course, since there were people around, he couldn’t actually say it out loud and only thought it to himself while appearing normal on the outside, holding the book and continuing to read the sentences.
“Angelina. I prepared this for you. I practiced the lines hard for this confession too.”
Eventually, Hangeul reached his limit.
‘Ugh.’
If he had been alone, he would have actually gagged.
“However, as it suddenly started raining and the man had no umbrella, he ended up getting the flowers in his hand soaked with rainwater.”
No matter how hard he tried to fix his critical attitude, what could he do when his thought process was like this from the beginning? Hangeul internally left another one-line review of the male protagonist’s situation.
‘That must feel really gross…’
It would be more productive to create one more original song during this time. His whole body itched with the desire to escape from here and run to the studio immediately.
Since he maintained a thorough poker face throughout all this, Bunhong couldn’t possibly imagine what thoughts he was having while reading the book.
Because Hangeul’s eyelashes fluttered every time he recited lines, with the extreme visual buff, it actually looked like a scene from a melodrama from the outside.
Bunhong, who was quietly listening to the story Oh Hangeul was reading, thought:
‘As I felt when listening to his song, he has a good voice.’
Moreover, the soft tone contrasting with his clear pronunciation was sweet.
After losing the only gift for Angelina, all he had left was a worn-out guitar.
Hangeul took a slight breath, then slowly continued reading, and listening to it brought an inexplicably sleepy comfort, gradually releasing the tension that had built up in Bunhong’s body.
What should he do now? How could he make her look at him and smile? Worried William wrote a song on the spot.
Angelina was the greatest beauty.
Designer bags, foreign cars, and even buildings… So far, countless men had courted her in various ways to beg for her love,
Could he win her with just a single song?
Flutter. The page turned as if a paragraph had ended.
And his thoughts were half right. Who on earth could do this with their right mind? Because Angelina said coldly.
The man’s gaze turned to the cup of cold water she was holding. On this cold winter day, the thought of having that poured on him was truly miserable.
Thinking it fortunate that he had worn an extra coat today to look good to Angelina, he squeezed his eyes shut.
Both, empathizing with the pitiful situation the male protagonist was in, thought the same thing simultaneously.
‘Oh no.’
But what he didn’t notice was her expression. Because her initially stiff expression gradually changed to certainty-filled ecstasy as if guided by fate.
Embracing her who had suddenly kissed him, the man stared at Angelina with bewildered eyes but kept his mouth shut. Because she was crying. The tears that flowed from her eyes to the tip of her nose eventually dripped onto the man’s cheek.
Hangeul began alternating between the two characters’ lines as if doing voice impressions.
“You know what, William. Do you know?”
“What are you referring to?”
“You sang a song for me. On this cold winter day, with hands frozen stiff from the cold, you played music for me. Honestly, I thought you were crazy.”
“My Angelina. If you’re crazy, then I must be crazy too. Your words are absolute justice to me.”
“Just with a guitar, it was truly a pitiful courtship. But that shattered my heart to pieces.”
Shattered to pieces—at her words, he thought he had completely messed up. But at her unexpected following words, he could smile brightly.
“I was completely… moved.”
Thud. Bunhong, who had been completely absorbed in the story he was telling, was brought back to reality by the sound of a book closing next to him.
Hangeul, who had been reading silently, groaned that it was difficult and buried his head in the book. Then he yawned long and lightly kicked the floor with his foot as if trying to chase away sleep.
It was then that he realized Oh Hangeul had injured his leg. He seemed to have hurt it quite badly, as he even had bandages wrapped around it.
The manager, glancing at the rearview mirror, muttered as if frustrated.
“Instead of doing that, try dating. That would be easier, wouldn’t it?”
But the one who should have heard that advice had already fallen asleep.
Bunhong quietly observed Hangeul’s face as he dozed off and thought:
‘He falls asleep really quickly.’
He was so beautiful that the shadow drawn by his long eyelashes drooping straight over his porcelain doll-like face felt poignant. While admiring inwardly, he wondered:
‘Can someone this beautiful also be sad?’
Looking at that perfect face that anyone would love, feeling inexplicably tired himself, he stretched.
The stylist next to him also confirmed Hangeul’s sleeping state and said with a smile:
“He finally fell asleep. Well, when he was really busy, he’d stay up all night refusing to sleep. He must have been very tired.”
I suppose so, Bunhong agreed inwardly. When you have schedules, day and night often get reversed. When such days repeat, fatigue accumulates gradually like mileage.
To the extent that, especially when busy, you can fall asleep the moment anything touches your head without even being conscious of it.
Knowing this, he felt sorry for him.
‘How tired must he have been…’
It wasn’t just Kim Bunhong, who hadn’t even known him a few days ago, who was worried about Hangeul who had fallen into deep sleep in the car. Although everyone had laughed at Oh Hangeul’s claim about studying acting through books, it was clear they cared about him considerably.
Typically, as soon as he fell asleep, the staff put down the iron they were using, and unlike before, even though they were driving on gravel roads, the manager began driving carefully.
Seeing the reactions of people around him, Bunhong felt that Hangeul was truly loved, which made him feel envious and somewhat spiteful, but he had to acknowledge what needed to be acknowledged.
‘Oh Hangeul-ssi is really a good person.’
From what Bunhong felt, there were many people in the entertainment industry who were different in front and behind, but he wasn’t. Though he hadn’t observed him for long, he could hardly find any pretense.
Bunhong noticed that even if there had been an accident, if the owner of this car hadn’t agreed, he wouldn’t have been able to travel to his destination so comfortably.
Earlier too, he had readily helped him up when he almost fell, and his attitude of casually talking to strangers was quite kind.
‘The Definition of Love.’ The title of the book Oh Hangeul had been reading suddenly crossed his mind.
Bunhong silently looked out the window.
“……”
Right. What exactly is love? Thinking meaninglessly.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
