Chapter 187: Indulgence
Indulgence
Muyoung rubbed his eyes for a moment. Then, lying face down on the bed, he checked the cover again.
Along with the simple title Indulgence, there was a message written in a hurried yet elegant style.
[May it reach Actor Ha Muyoung.]
It was definitely meant for him.
Muyoung jumped up and knelt, staring at the script.
He glared so hard that he groaned, but the pollen didn’t stop.
It seemed to grow thicker with time.
“Haa.”
Muyoung eventually gave up and lay back down.
A murderer’s role? It was a character he had never considered. Wasn’t he more of a victim in the public eye? And besides…
“Why?”
Muyoung, who had trembled at breaking porcelain, wondered if he could pull off a murderer’s role. Pondering the intent behind the pollen, he opened the script again.
Click—
Inside a grand and majestic cathedral, only the sunlight streaming through the stained glass illuminated the podium. The statue of Jesus looked down at Dogyung with a benevolent smile.
Seeming to enjoy the attention, Dogyung also wore a faint smile. Unlike his casually tousled platinum hair, his suit was quite formal.
“You’re here.”
At the old priest’s call, Dogyung turned his head. Unconsciously, he smiled brightly. The priest looked up at the ceiling and muttered,
“Whenever I see Brother Dogyung, I always think of that angel.”
Dogyung’s gaze also turned upward.
On the spacious ceiling, a hundred baby angels filled the space. With peach-blossom smiles, they looked down at the two. They seemed so vivid, as if they might manifest at any moment.
“Of course. It’s my painting, after all.”
Dogyung and the angels seemed somehow alike.
Was it because of his platinum hair, or perhaps his bright, clear smile?
Though his nature was clearly closer to a demon than an angel, the priest couldn’t understand why he felt reverent whenever he saw Dogyung.
“Will you grant me an indulgence today?”
“……Of course.”
At his request, the priest handed over a stack of documents. South Korea was sinking into the mire of hell. No, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that every cross in the world had been tarnished.
High-ranking government officials had become religious leaders, and wars erupted in the name of faith.
As a result, the church walls grew higher, and the gaps were filled with the lifeblood of the people.
“Thank you.”
Dogyung bowed his head in genuine gratitude, his hands clasped together. Slight tattoos covered his exposed wrist, their meaning unclear.
“Please pray for me, Father.”
With a pitiful look, the priest unconsciously closed his eyes. Soon, he clasped Dogyung’s hands and prayed.
The stained glass light fell on Dogyung’s devout profile. After a brief prayer, Dogyung smiled at the Jesus looking at him.
God, I will commit two murders.
The light cast a shadow on Jesus’s face.
As always, I trust You will forgive me.
While Dogyung brightened, the cathedral subtly grew dim. The priest, seeing him off, asked,
“You’ll be busy for a while, I presume.”
The government was overseeing a massive cathedral construction project.
It was so vast that six soccer fields wouldn’t suffice.
“Yes, thankfully so.”
It wasn’t surprising that Dogyung, now well-known, received such commissions.
At a young age, he had become a pillar of the art world, a painter whose brushstrokes could generate tens, even hundreds of billions.
To some blind eyes, he was almost godlike. With a mere gesture, he could have anything.
“Then I’ll be going. See you soon.”
“May God’s blessing be with you.”
Dogyung bid the priest farewell and strolled through the well-kept grounds.
In the distance, a luxury sedan awaited him.
Pulling a cigarette from his suit, he hummed and placed it in his mouth.
Sizzle—
With each exhale of smoke, his expression shifted. The radiant, almost holy atmosphere turned imposing, like a demon shedding its disguise.
“Hoo*—*”
Dogyung burned the indulgence with his cigarette.
He flicked the burning papers away, and the ashes vanished in the wind.
“Let’s go.”
An attendant opened the rear door for Dogyung.
Loosening his tie, Dogyung rested his arm on the hips of a woman lying in the backseat. Her arms and legs were bound like an animal’s.
“Mph! Mph!”
“Shh. Don’t.”
Dogyung silenced the struggling woman with a quiet command.
“God just blessed our union.”
“……Hul.”
Feeling his heart pounding, Muyoung closed the script.
It was just the movie’s opening. Yet, as he read each word, the scenes played vividly in his mind.
Such immersion.
And strangely, very strangely, the character of Dogyung seemed captivating.
Muyoung closed his eyes in thought, then checked the phone number on the front page.
Ring—
The sun had set, but it wasn’t late.
After a few rings, a strange woman answered.
Judging by the chatter in the background, they were drinking.
-Kim San! I got the call!
“Hello, this is Ha Muyoung.”
-……
No response.
Soon, worried whispers came from beside her. Kim San’s breath trembled.
-Actor Ha Muyoung?
-Huck! Director, what did you say? Ha Muyoung?
-Shh! Everyone, quiet! Mouths!
-The team leader’s the loudest.
-I think the director’s drunk.
They must have been drinking closely together. Every word was audible.
Well, they’d be shocked. Though he’d sent the script, they wouldn’t expect a call so soon.
Muyoung was just as surprised.
“Yes, it’s Ha Muyoung. I’m calling about the script you sent. Could we meet? I’d like to discuss it comfortably.”
-Now?
“Whenever you’re free. But I have a schedule tomorrow, so we’d need to coordinate.”
-Now! I’ll come! Where are you?
Muyoung hadn’t even changed yet. He just needed to grab the script and his wallet.
“I’ll come to you. It seems you have company.”
Kim San hesitated, then gave an address.
It was a restaurant in the Millak Raw Fish Center near Gwangalli. Perfect, Muyoung thought, he could see the night sea.
“I’ll be there soon. About ten minutes?”
“They’re all crazy. Completely crazy.”
The film production team leader, face bright red, scolded the staff. They were all drinking while Ha Muyoung was calling about the script.
“Who said to drink today!?”
“You did, team leader.”
“Ugh? Don’t talk back! Go buy some sober-up medicine, ion drinks, and water!”
The youngest staff member quickly left.
Kim San tried to cool her rising heat by holding a water bottle to her face.
“Maybe I messed up. I should’ve said to meet later.”
“Nah. When would Ha Muyoung be free?”
“Right, Director. You did well.”
It was a small but solid production company. Starting with independent films, they were gradually seeing results—in a good light, they had potential; in a bad light, they were insignificant.
Kim San was a founding member and their only director. She gulped water, dazed, and muttered,
“Was I too drunk to hear right?”
“Wanna slap me?”
“Team leader, don’t say that. I might actually call an ambulance.”
“Uh-oh? Warning.”
The noisy chatter of the staff didn’t register.
She’d sent the script on a whim, just to see what would happen! And Ha Muyoung called tonight?
Ring—
His words about arriving soon were no lie.
As soon as the youngest returned with the medicine, he appeared.
“Hello, are you Director Kim San?”
“Ah! Hello!”
“Hello! I’m Gulle Team Leader from the production company.”
They all jumped up in surprise. Muyoung, feeling awkward, waved his hands.
“Why are you all standing? I’m sitting down. Sorry for the interruption.”
“Interrupt? No way! You know, back in the day, after the Busan International Film Festival, over there on the lawn, Wang Gwijong would drink, and on the stone wall, Karakushi would sing. It was a night where everyone naturally joined in.”
“Team leader, the festival isn’t on today.”
“Ah, but it’s the same idea!”
There were fewer than ten people.
Muyoung sat in the middle and wiped his hands with a wet towel.
The team leader wasn’t entirely wrong. Bora had also joined on a director’s sudden invitation. Nights like this were probably common in Gwangalli.
“Do you drink?”
“Ah, I’ll have beer. I have work tomorrow.”
“Sure. I wondered when I’d meet you, Ha Muyoung. I was so surprised when you called.”
Kim San’s words made Muyoung reply,
“Me too. I was really surprised by the script.”
“Did you like it?”
“……Yes. It’s well-written.”
At Muyoung’s compliment, Kim San internally cheered. But outwardly, only her cheeks twitched.
“But your offer was unexpected. It’s the opposite of how people see me. Are there other candidates?”
At his words, Kim San quickly shook her head.
“Absolutely not!”
“Wow, I’m the top candidate?”
“I wrote that character thinking of you.”
At Kim San’s words, Muyoung paused.
She wrote Dogyung thinking of me?
It was a first.
“That’s interesting. To think that part of me, as seen by Director Kim San, is the character of Dogyung.”
“No, it’s the opposite. When I see you, I don’t imagine you killing or hurting anyone. With other actors, I could at least imagine it, but with you, it felt completely impossible, like something was holding you back.”
Kim San’s hand, holding the soju glass, trembled. Every time she met him, she’d meant to say this, and now it was finally out.
“So, I deliberately tried to push past my limits. In the end, I did write it thinking of you.”
“That makes me feel really good. To think my presence inspired such great writing.”
At Muyoung’s words, Kim San and the silent production staff brightened.
“But I’m not sure. Can I pull it off?”
Muyoung was referring to his trauma, but Kim San thought he meant acting transformation.
“Of course. I believe this work pushed my limits, and you’ll definitely surpass yours.”
At her words, Muyoung looked around.
Pollen still appeared in the script, but there was no sign of smoke from the production staff. Muyoung raised his glass to her and asked,
“Please contact the company as soon as possible. I’ll let them know too. Let’s have a formal meeting.”