After Story 213

After Story 213

Yoonseok repeatedly glanced at Maru, who was walking by his side.

“What is it?” Maru asked, seemingly bothered by it.

Yoonseok smiled. “A camera massage is good alright. You’re like a totally different person now.”

“In a good way?”

“You don’t say. You’ve become a total dragon. I’m proud of you.”

“That’s a weird thing to be proud of. Did you go back to school?”

Yoonseok spoke as he waved the plastic bag of soondae back and forth, “The timing was right, so I went back to classes right away. I listened to lectures during my last vacation in March, and for the ones I had to miss, I explained to the professors and they let me go.”

“That’s good.”

“I really wish I could take a year off and try out various things, but all my seniors told me that I’ll just be wasting it. They told me I should get myself together and get ready to graduate, or just quit altogether.”

“Is it the trend these days to advise other people to drop out?”

“You see, my major was combined with another department and disappeared. I always laughed about it when I heard such news in the military, but now that I’m actually here, it’s become my problem. Some of my colleagues prepared to transfer to another department, while the ones that fooled around just stayed in the new department.”

“It’s just the start now. Other than the major universities, it’ll become harder and harder to operate,” Maru said.

“Should I just quit like you, hyung? I heard you dropped out after military service.”

“What can I tell you? Think about it well before you make the decision. Are you on a student loan, or did your parents support you?”

“My parents paid for the tuition.”

“Then before you think about it, consult your parents about it. The shareholder’s opinion is important. Of course, if your opinion is firm, then you should be prepared to persuade them.”

“It’s a bit awkward to tell them about it.”

“Then you should report to them after achieving something that they might accept. You know in the military that sometimes you’re allowed to take action first then report, right? But if the action is wrong, you know what will happen to you, right?”

Yoonseok organized his thoughts before asking again,

“What did you do?”

“Me? I had the conviction, so I left right away.”

“You didn’t tell your parents?”

Maru didn’t respond and just smiled. Yoonseok thought about it for a moment before speaking,

“If I had a son and he said he wants to quit school to become an actor, I’d be opposed to it, but if he shows results like you did, then I guess I will have no choice but to accept it.”

“Did you tell them about the grand prize you got from the Short Film Festival?”

“No, I haven’t said a single thing about movies at home. Mom once told me that dad once quit a good job because he wanted to become a writer. Thanks to that, mom suffered a lot, and she apparently beat dad up when he looked like he couldn’t get himself together. That was how our household motto became ‘salaryman is best.’”

“It should’ve been hard to hide it from your parents since you stayed up night after night and spent a lot when we shot it.”

Hearing Maru’s words, Yoonseok sighed. Thinking about it now, he had been full of lies back when he shot ‘The Form of Love.’ Whenever his mom asked where he was going, he told her that he was going out to do some assignments or studying. To his mother, it must’ve looked like he was earnestly continuing his studies.

When he explained the circumstances to Maru, Maru patted him on the shoulder.

“I want to keep working on films, but I feel uneasy too. When I got the grand prize in the Short Film Festival, I thought I’d rise to stardom. I’d receive the spotlight as a student director, gain experience at real film shoots, and then immediately debut with a commercial movie,” Yoonseok said as he raised his hands up into the sky.

The plastic bag rustled as it swayed.

“But after the film festival, I looked at reality as I got ready to go to the military. People like me were a dime a dozen. Numerous directors get awards from various film festivals hosted by cities, provinces, and companies. But, the overwhelming majority of those directors disappear without being able to shoot a single commercial movie. I was curious, so I even looked into it.”

Yoonseok took out his phone. He put up a photo that he took before he went to the military. It was a photo he took with a man in his middle thirties, wearing an ID card around his neck.

“This person apparently received a lot of spotlight ten years ago through an indie movie. He must have been similar to me, right? And he was even invited to an overseas film festival for the non-competitive section. He’s incomparably more amazing than me. But now, he works a job totally unrelated to movies.”

Yoonseok put on a bitter smile and closed his phone.

The ex-director that had become a salaryman told him that he would do well and that he’d be different from how he had turned out. However, he had also given the cautious advice when they parted to learn to let go if it felt no good.

“He told me that if he got himself together a year early and let go of film, then his life would’ve changed. It looks like there’s an insurmountable gap between what seems plausible and what is possible.”

“He’s given you priceless advice.”

“I thought about it from the moment I was drafted to the day I was discharged. People say you stop thinking about trivial things when you go to the military, but I thought even more instead.”

“From how you didn’t let go of writing even in the military, you don’t plan to give up, huh?” Maru asked.

Yoonseok rubbed the back of his neck.

“There’s nothing else to do there. I asked for light extensions and kept writing. It’s the only talent I have.”

Yoonseok stopped walking. Maru, who was walking about two steps ahead, also stopped and looked at him.

“That’s why when you called me and asked me to show you the scenario I wrote, I thought that this was my last opportunity, a test perhaps.”

“This is just your second time.”

“I know that it’s unsightly of me to keep ranting about worries when I haven’t even tried properly, but I just don’t want to make excuses.”

Yoonseok thought back to the days he was shooting a movie with his friends and Maru. To prepare for the production costs, he wiped plates in a buffet instead of listening to lectures, and he kept cycling all day in order to look for a suitable spot. He got into a quarrel with his friends over the production, and he also had some conflict with the actor Maru over differences in opinion.

When he looked back, he was only happy at the last moment of the shoot, and during the rest, it was a time of suffering and endurance.

“Shooting was really hard. But it was too fun. It hurt, but I was smiling. I just love making a film out of a story I created. I like the fighting that happens in the process. But if I fail and my life goes wrong, then I think I’ll criticize those moments and regret it. I feel freaky because I feel like I’m going to look for the reason I’m not doing well in film.”

“So?” Maru asked as he took his glasses off.

His eyes looked calm. Yoonseok found those eyes comfortable because they didn’t contain any consolation or encouragement.

He smiled faintly and spoke, “I’m going to make the decision after this film I’m doing with you. If I can get investment through that movie, I’m going to keep trying. I’ll officially tell my parents about it and will put all my effort into creating films rather than staying in college.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“I’ll just keep doing it as a hobby. I didn’t know about this, but apparently, there are movie gatherings for workers as well. They gather into small groups and create a movie as a hobby. It’s called a hobby, but the results are pretty good because they’re all investing time that they can make.”

Just like his father and the director that eventually became a salaryman, he wanted to go all in when creating movies. However, he couldn’t just decide recklessly. He needed a basis for his judgment. And that basis would be decided this time.

“Those who stake their lives on movies might think that I’m childish, but I still can’t forget that person’s words. I should let go if it seems no good, huh.”

This was his genuine opinion that he had not revealed to his parents or to his closest friends.

He did feel a little relieved after saying it.

For a while, they kept on walking without a word. They went into the college library and went to the resting area in the basement. When they sat down in the noisy rest area, Maru spoke,

“Even if this one succeeds, there’s no guarantee that your next one will.”

“I know. I just lack decisiveness, so I’m letting this movie make the decision. If it works out, I’ll drop out and go all in. I’ll start working from the bottom of the rung. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll just have to study, graduate and get a job.”

Maru crossed his arms.

“So the worst case scenario is that this movie goes well and you quit school, but you screw up the one after it and lose all investment, huh.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“It’s a plausible occurrence.”

“I know, but blood truly is frightening. I think the artistic blood that flows in my dad’s veins is also flowing in me. I’ve witnessed some things, so I’ll try my best to put a brake on it, but… who knows. I might end up just worrying mom like my dad did.”

Yoonseok put down the soondae on the table. As this place was right next to the cafeteria, they were allowed to eat.

Just as he was about to rip the packaging open and grab a fork, he stopped. After all that talking, he didn’t feel like eating.

“Weren’t you worried?”

“When I decided to quit school to become an actor?”

“Yeah.”

“I was worried. But I was worried that I might not be successful as an actor, not about making a living.”

“You can be like that? If you slip up during your acting career, there won’t be any places that will acknowledge your career experience.”

“I can be like that,” Maru said without a hint of a smile.

“I would’ve laughed about it if it was someone else, but seeing you say that makes it like you have something.”

“I do have something. Among the two things – what seems plausible and what is possible – I was preparing something that was possible.”

“So you had a backup plan?”n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Being an actor is good and all, but looking after my family is my top priority. As you said before, I even imagined that I would just do acting as a hobby. Only when I assume the worst will the shock be less.”

“But you were successful. I’m envious.”

“If you could understand what kind of situation I was in, you wouldn’t be entirely envious.”

Situation? That felt like it meant something, but seeing Maru chuckle, it seemed to be a joke.

“But it looks like you’re forgetting something.”

“What?” Yoonseok blinked a few times.

He was missing something?

“The possibility that I will not be working with you.”

“Oh yeah, there’s that. Looks like I was getting way too ahead of myself.”

He had forgotten about it because he was so overjoyed to see Maru. This person in front of him was no longer an actor who worked on chump change and was now someone whose standards must have gotten higher than before.

“Give it to me.”

Maru put out his hand. Yoonseok suddenly felt nervous when he saw that hand.

He took out a plastic folder from the bag he was carrying. He found the scenario that he put inside and gave it to Maru.

“While I read, eat some soondae. It’ll be pretty good even if it’s not hot anymore.”

“I suddenly lost my appetite.”

“Eat it anyway. Don’t you think you should get something out of this meeting?”

“You’re firing rapidly at this little brother’s heart, you know?”

“I haven’t shot anything yet. I’ll tell you after I read it.”

Yoonseok put some soondae in his mouth. Regardless of his brain almost being overloaded with worries, his tongue did its job. The soondae was delicious.

While he was eating, he looked to the side. He suddenly felt that the rest area had become much quieter. The student eating instant noodles at the next table over was looking at Maru. So was the person opposite him.

Yoonseok looked around. Students were gathering around.

“Uhm, hyung.”

“Just eat that for a while.”

“No, it’s not that.”

Everyone’s looking at you — despite telling him, Maru didn’t seem to care. Yoonseok smiled awkwardly and looked at the people who had come over.

“He is, right?” someone asked.

The question was without any context, but there was no difficulty understanding.

“Yes, he probably is,” he said as he looked at Maru, who was still absorbed in reading.