Chapter 2: Pollen
It had been two weeks since the stepfather’s death.
The police determined the cause of death to be hypothermia.
He got drunk, chased his stepson, fell, and then passed away after losing consciousness. His severely crushed nose was considered evidence of a forward fall.
“Ha Muyoung.”
The homeroom teacher clicked his pen and called me.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, of course.”
“What’s your living situation now?”
“Graduation is coming up soon, so I’ve decided to stay at home for now. The landlady has been understanding of my situation, too.”
After sorting everything out, I had exactly 570,000 won left. I was sure my mom had opened a bank account in my name, but that guy must have squandered it all.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do next?”
“I’m going to wait for the acceptance results to come out and then decide.”
I had secretly applied to college without my stepfather knowing.
I hated being at home, so I was the first to arrive at school and the last to leave. I had nothing to do but study.
“Muyoung, don’t take this the wrong way.”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“You know Seoyeon University has the highest tuition fees in Korea, right? These days, student loans are easy to get, and there are a lot of scholarships, but still.”
Thanks to that, I was able to apply to some pretty decent places, including the prestigious private Seoyeon University.
Of course, whether I get accepted or not is still up in the air.
“If you don’t get that scholarship, you’re looking at 7 to 8 million won going down the drain every semester. It’s stressful, isn’t it? Other places are at least 3 to 4 million won as a base. And that’s not all—rent, food, living expenses…….”
I realized what the homeroom teacher was trying to say.
It was thanks to the vocational school platform he was holding in his hand.
“These days, even kids who graduate from prestigious universities just end up doing nothing after graduation. You only listed subjects that matched your grades, didn’t you? If you don’t have a passion for it, I think it’s wiser to learn a skill and establish yourself first.”
It was practical advice.
Tourism promotion, global culture, Chinese literature, and so on.
They were all different. As long as I could escape, anything was fine.
“Thank you for your advice, teacher.”
But not anymore.
The devil is dead, and the path is set.
Borrowing someone else’s life to live instead of my messed-up one. And becoming happy.
“But there’s something I really want to do.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“I want to act.”
The teacher was taken aback by the unexpected response.
Was it too surprising an answer? The teachers sitting next to him turned to look.
“Act?”
“Yes. That’s why I want to go to college even more.”
Tutoring students from prestigious universities pays pretty well, I heard. Even if I had to take a leave of absence as soon as I got in, it would still be better, wouldn’t it? If I fail, I’ll figure something out.
Anything is fine. I’m free now.
“……Have you ever acted before?”
“No, I haven’t.”
The homeroom teacher’s mouth twisted. He looked like he couldn’t believe such a naive kid existed. Then the other teachers around him chimed in.
“Someone like Muyoung could give it a shot. He’s good-looking, tall. He’s kind, so he’d be great at fan service, too.”
“Are you an idol? He said he wants to be an actor. An actor.”
“Aigo. In arts and sports, it’s all about talent.”
“Even the most talented kids can’t make it in this field. Tsk tsk.”
“Muyoung, how long have you wanted to act?”
“Think carefully, you idiot! Don’t go chasing after something pointless!”
Everyone seemed to be listening while pretending not to.
It quickly became noisy as words were exchanged back and forth. The homeroom teacher pressed his temples and rummaged through his suit pocket.
“Well. It’s good that you have a goal. This is something the teachers chipped in together. Use it to help with your living expenses.”
It was a pretty thick envelope.
No matter how you looked at it, it was a high school teacher’s guilt for not noticing a student’s circumstances, packed tightly inside.
“Thank you.”
“Go on.”
As if there was nothing more to say. The homeroom teacher turned his chair. As he was about to leave the staff room, his voice was heard faintly amidst the chaos.
“It’s not like kids playing around. What can a guy who’s never acted once possibly…….”
“Are you crazy?”
The classroom was quiet.
Muyoung was in the library, borrowing a lot of books to read. If it weren’t for Junho sitting in front of him and being annoying, it would have been perfect.
“Aren’t you going to play soccer?”
“It’s cold.”
With the college entrance exam over and no classes, as soon as the kids got to school, they all ran out to the playground.
However, as news of the stepfather’s death and family situation spread, Muyoung mostly had to spend time alone.
“You told the homeroom teacher you were going to act, didn’t you?”
“How did you know?”
“The staff room was all about you. How far will Ha Muyoung go with his good looks? Is he really crazy, or has he lost his mind? By the way, everything except English was negative.”
Muyoung took his eyes off the book and looked at Junho.
He’s a close friend, no matter how you look at him.
He’s also the only friend who’s acted the same as before after the incident.
“Why did you say that?”
“They asked me what I was going to do with my life.”
“If I had said that, I would’ve gotten my head slammed with the attendance book. Acting out of the blue? Well. You’re good at lying, so maybe you’ll be good at that, too.”
“Lying? Me?”
“You hid what your stepfather was doing really well, didn’t you?”
His tone was so rough that others would have flinched, but Muyoung didn’t care. It was actually easier to deal with. Junho clicked his tongue as he looked at his friend’s injured lips.
“At least put some good medicine on it. It’s been two weeks, and it still looks like that.”
“It’s okay. It’s healing.”
“Oh, really? An actor-to-be?”
He only knew roughly.
That Muyoung’s family situation was a bit different from others.
But he didn’t think it was this bad. Junho hid his apologetic feelings and rummaged through his pockets.
“Here. This is the most expensive ointment at the pharmacy.”
“Rich kids are different.”
“It’s only ten thousand won, though.”
Junho was the son of a building owner.
It wasn’t anything grand—just a five-story commercial building in the city.
“So, what are you really going to do now?”
“Nothing much. Part-time jobs, college.”
“What if you fail?”
“I’m thinking of joining a theater troupe.”
“What? You weren’t serious about acting, were you?”
Junho asked, startled.
“What are you talking about? I’ve told you everything up until now.”
“Really? You weren’t just telling the teachers to screw themselves?”
“Why would I do that? Is that you?”
“No, crazy. Why? All of a sudden?”
The reaction was unexpectedly mild, I thought.
Muyoung laughed and waved his hand. Sorry, but I’m going to skip the details. No matter how close Junho was, he didn’t want to tell him about his divine energy.
“I don’t know. I suddenly felt like doing it.”
What Muyoung was holding in his hand was a collection of Korean films. Junho stood there blankly for a moment before snatching it from him.
“Let me see.”
“What?”
“Your acting. Since a crazy guy who never even mentioned acting says he’s going to do it, as a friend, I’m confused. If there’s no potential, I’ll bring you lunch and stop you.”
Potential? Well.
It didn’t really matter whether it was there or not.
To survive, especially to live differently than before, it was something he had to do no matter what.
“Give it to me.”
But taking the first step in front of a friend didn’t seem like a bad idea either. Like a vaccination before harsh reality, I guess.
“You know this one, right?”
It was a 2001 film that caused a stir when veteran actor Park Moon appeared in it without any compensation.
Set in a future where global warming causes seasons to disappear, it tells the story of a gardener who feels the seasons through blooming flowers and then suddenly realizes that spring has vanished.
It was a low-budget film that received high praise for its portrayal of environmental destruction and the importance of everyday life.
“I only know the poster.”
It’s a pretty old movie, so a lot of people have only heard of its reputation.
But Muyoung liked this work.
The lush greenery and beautiful cinematography were exceptional.
[#107. Garden (Sunset)]
Junsik stands barefoot. He stares at the withered flowers for a long time. Jayeong comes over and hugs him.
[Junsik: (trembling voice) It was just one day.]
[Jayeong: (face buried in his back) Yeah.]
[Junsik: This year, spring was only one day. It’ll probably be the last time. If I’d known, I would’ve watched it longer. (Silence) I won’t be able to make flowers bloom anymore.]
Muyoung closed his eyes.
And imagined himself standing in that garden he had seen on screen. His two hands, his two feet, and the scenery.
Everything unfolded in a first-person perspective.
“It was just one day.”
The streets that turned pink in spring. The subtly sweet wind that blew. Muyoung recalled the spring he had felt and stirred his emotions.
“This year, spring was only one day. It’ll probably be the last time. If I’d known, I would’ve watched it longer.”
And that spring disappears.
Watching the blooming period get shorter every year, what kind of emotions did the gardener feel? What was the life of a gardener who had devoted his whole life to grass and trees like?
“I won’t be able to make flowers bloom anymore.”
Regret. Sorrow. Pity. Guilt.
As complex emotions surged, Muyoung unconsciously raised his palm and took a deep breath.
As if inhaling the last traces of spring.
It was an action not written in the script.
“Haa…….”
Not in the script, but an action a gardener would definitely take.
The tip of his nose tingled, and tears seemed about to burst out. Muyoung was surprised and hesitated.
“Huh? This…….”
What is this?
This emotional flow. And this immersion.
I even felt an indescribable sense of satisfaction.
‘And it’s fun.’
I don’t know if it’s an illusion, but for a first attempt, it felt incredibly natural. Maybe I have talent? It’s better to have it than not, I guess.
Muyoung looked at Junho with eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“How was it?”
But Junho’s expression was puzzling.
“You, you little…….”
Ding-dong—deng-dong—
As he hesitated, the lunch bell rang.
For a senior in high school, it was the signal to go home.
“What the hell, you?”
“……You memorized the lines really well.”
“Not that. Just look at the vibe. The vibe.”
“……I don’t think it’s worth packing a lunchbox for.”
Junho cautiously gave his opinion.
He thought it would be awkward and cringey since it was his first time, and he was ready to curse as soon as it was over, but…… honestly, it was okay. He could even picture a scene from a movie he’d never seen before.
“It’s just so-so.”
But Junho held back from saying more, worried his friend might get arrogant.
“It’s not bad. But if you fail to get into college, don’t go to a theater troupe. Go to an academy. Acting is a skill, and it requires training, after all.”
And he quickly changed the subject. Muyoung just smiled faintly and picked up his bag.
“Academy, my ass. I don’t even have money to heat the boiler.”
“Then live at my house.”
“Yeah, sure. Let’s go get some lunch.”
“I’m paying, right?”
“Of course. Why are you asking something so obvious?”
I once read somewhere
that living beings tend to have exceptional talents related to survival. There’s no law that says you have to die, Muyoung thought happily as he left the classroom.
“What are we eating?”
“Something expensive!”
Maybe that was why.
Muyoung didn’t know.
The black smog that had been seeping up from the floor had, at some point, completely disappeared. And the classmates scattered around the classroom burst into applause one after another.
“Just tteokbokki?”
“Shut up. I’m also going to eat fish cakes and sundae.”
Muyoung chose street food. The streets were quiet. It was cold, but the coziness of the food stall felt good.
While filling his hungry stomach thanks to Junho’s treat——
“Huh?”
Something was fluttering outside.
He thought it was snow at first, but it was more vibrant and sparkly than snow.
It was the pollen that had been floating around the stepfather’s body two weeks ago. Muyoung poked his head out of the tent.
“What’s wrong?”
“No. It’s pollen…….”
“Pollen? In the middle of winter?”
The building adjacent to the food stall was the source. Muyoung read the old sign on the third floor.
“BV Acting Academy?”
“Academy? You said you weren’t going to any classes.”
Even with Junho’s question, Muyoung just silently chewed on his tteokbokki. The phenomenon, which sparkled far more than the stepfather’s corpse, felt like it was calling to him.
As if there was an opportunity here.