AES Ch1.1

Everything was as still as a painting.

The vintage-style cafe was sparsely populated, with only the gentle flow of classical music filling the air. The only movement in that space was from Heetae, sitting by the window. But when Heetae took a few sips of coffee and set the cup back on the table, all motion ceased once again.

Heetae’s gaze was fixed outside the large window for a while. The sky of early autumn, visible through the window, was particularly azure.

Soon, the sound of footsteps approaching from a distance made Heetae turn his head slightly to look. The woman approaching smiled brightly as she sat down in front of him.

“I’m late.”

Heetae said quietly.

“I’m only five minutes late. And it took time to order and get the coffee.”

Heetae didn’t respond much to her quick retort; he just gazed at her silently. His look suggested, “What did you do so well?” But Chaeyeon simply smiled and handed over a bundle of papers, immune to such mild teasing.

Heetae didn’t reach out to take it immediately. Instead, he checked the title on the cover of the bound manuscript. With just the single word <Thirst> written on the white background, he immediately knew what it was. It was a screenplay Chaeyeon had been working on recently, a 16-part drama series almost confirmed for production.

“I’m showing it to you first. Just the first two episodes for now.”

Heetae smirked at his friend’s nonchalant statement.

“Lies.”

Heetae knew that <Thirst> had been developed with a production company from the planning stage, so there was no way he was the first to see it. It must have passed through many hands before it was time to show it to the actors. Sure enough, Chaeyeon quickly revealed her true intent.

“Read it and give me some feedback. I think you’d understand the protagonist’s situation well.”

“So, am I the protagonist?”

“No.”

Only then did Heetae reach out to take the script fluttering in front of him. He didn’t look at his friend, who was shaking her arm, probably because it was getting numb from holding the script. Instead, he muttered as he opened the script.

“You’re harsh.”

“Sorry. I don’t want to cast based on connections.”

“You’re hilarious.”

Though it was said in jest, Chaeyeon seemed a bit embarrassed and explained.

“Hey, this… the protagonist is a villain. The main plot is about a third-generation chaebol, consumed by ambition and inferiority, heading towards ruin.”

“So?”

“So, even if he’s a villain, he’s still the protagonist. The audience needs to empathize with his emotions, but you wouldn’t be able to relate. You’re far from feeling inferior. Just look at you… from your looks to…”

Heetae paused from reading the script to look at Chaeyeon.

“Keep talking.”

“You’re too good-looking for this role.”

It was an honest statement, but not surprising enough to excite the listener. Heetae shifted his gaze from the woman sipping espresso in front of him back to the script, speaking calmly.

“Boring. That’s what it boils down to?”

“Hey, give the writer a break. You said you’re done with chaebol roles because there are too many similar offers.”

He had indeed said that when he was tired of playing the same kind of perfect characters.

“Anyway, what I want to ask you for is something else.”

“What is it, writer?”

“A prosecutor investigating the evil third-generation chaebol.”

“Ah,” Heetae responded, now reading the scene where this character first appears.

“A prosecutor might be interesting.”

“No, no, not your typical prosecutor. He’s second only to the protagonist in importance. Basically, a dual lead, and I’ll keep expanding his role.”

“Yes, sure,” Heetae mocked playfully. Since the role’s importance didn’t matter much to him, he read on, his hand pausing as he turned the page.

“It’s interesting.”

“Right? If you do it, it’s a guaranteed hit.”

“Shouldn’t the protagonist matter too? So, who’s being considered for the lead?”

“Me and Director Cha’s first choice is…”

Chaeyeon trailed off, laughing mischievously.

“Who do you think?”

“No idea.”

“An actor who’s really good. A bit of a challenge.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Writer Shin.”

“Alright, alright. It’s Ryu Sihyeon.”

“Ryu Sihyeon?”

“You know him, right?”

He knew him. They had met once at a screening event. The first time he saw him, he thought, “He’s pretty, the kind girls would like.” He also saw him at the Daemyung Film Awards, where at twenty-five, Ryu Sihyeon won Best Actor for his role as a young independence fighter in <Field of Freedom>. His acting was undeniably excellent.

At the time, Heetae wasn’t particularly drawn to him, so he had no intention of watching any of his movies. But Chaeyeon made such a fuss that they ended up watching the movie together on its opening day. That was when he first saw Ryu Sihyeon act.

Recalling that face from the screen, Heetae looked at Chaeyeon.

“You’ve always liked Ryu Sihyeon, and now you’ve decided on him as the lead? Good for you.”

 

“Young, handsome, and a genius actor. Of course, you’d want him, right?”

At those words, Heetae’s lips curled up slightly.

“Didn’t you say I was the best-looking once?”

“You are the best-looking.”

Ultimately, the most marketable asset as an actor was his handsome face. Though it was not surprising, Heetae inwardly gave a bitter smile. His friend’s comment about him not knowing inferiority was wrong.

In reality, Heetae knew Ryu Sihyeon quite well, in his own way. He had heard stories about this young, green kid who suddenly appeared and acted like a madman. It was pretty famous in the industry that he swept all the rookie awards at every film festival in Korea that year. Unless you were living with your ears closed, you couldn’t not know.

Back then, Heetae had only heard rumors; he hadn’t watched the film that was Ryu Sihyeon’s debut. Even though it was successful for a low-budget indie film, he didn’t feel the need to watch it. Why bother to look up a rookie actor just because they won an award? He didn’t see the value in it.

Time passed, and he encountered Ryu Sihyeon again at the Daemyung Film Awards. By then, he had seen Ryu’s film, <Field of Freedom>. He remembered watching Ryu Sihyeon for two hours straight, but seeing him in person felt quite strange.

Ryu Sihyeon bowed first, keeping his eyes on the ground, not seeming to be the outgoing type. It was somewhat irksome to Heetae, who didn’t want to just let it slide. Heetae spoke first.

‘I enjoyed your movie.’

Ryu Sihyeon glanced up at Heetae and then responded with a bow.

‘Thank you. I watched your movie too, senior.’

His voice was meek compared to the confident tone in the movie. That was the end of their conversation. After that, they both returned to their seats.

Both Heetae and Ryu Sihyeon were nominated for Best Actor. Heetae wasn’t nervous at all that day; he wasn’t the type to expect anything. However, when the presenter appeared on stage, he thought of the movie he had watched with Chaeyeon. The one with Ryu Sihyeon. The film that got him nominated.

In fact, Ryu Sihyeon wasn’t in that movie. Instead, there was Jeong Iseop, the independence fighter. Strangely, they were entirely different people. His acting was so good that it was hard to believe it was his first lead role in a commercial film.

“The Best Actor award goes to…”

The woman who had won Best Actress the previous year, dressed in a splendid gown, opened the envelope. Her red lips parted as she read the name.

“Ryu Sihyeon from <Field of Freedom>.”

Heetae clapped like everyone else, watching Ryu Sihyeon ascend the stage. He didn’t seem surprised at all when his name was called. Even after receiving the trophy, he didn’t show much emotion or even shed tears. Instead, his eyes looked dead. His acceptance speech was very brief, almost seeming shy or completely devoid of enthusiasm.

Heetae found this quite ridiculous. It seemed like the winner didn’t appreciate the value of the award. Every year, countless filmmakers coveted that trophy, but for this actor, it seemed to hold no value. Despite being a young actor who easily won an award, he lacked humility.

About a week later, Heetae watched the indie film where Ryu Sihyeon had won his rookie award. The reason, if there was one, was simply curiosity about how he had acted in it.

Though it showed its low budget, the movie was good. It had won awards at international film festivals. In this film, there was a boy.

He was a high school student, a bit of a thug, who one day was forced to take care of a baby. The baby’s mother left, promising to return with money. Thus, forced into parenting, the high school student couldn’t possibly earn enough to raise a child. The once thuggish single dad got worn out from working odd jobs here and there, so he went looking for his estranged family with the baby, asking for a loan. From his sister, then his uncle, his mother, and finally his father.

But the family was disgraceful, vulgar, and devoid of love. The delinquent high school student was actually better than these adults. It was maddening.

The story, filled with nothing but despair, ended with the delinquent protagonist finding the baby’s mother. She had saved some money, showing at least some maternal instinct, which gave the single dad some relief. However, she wouldn’t be paying child support; she committed suicide.

Following this dark narrative made Heetae’s stomach churn, not because of the wretchedness but because it felt like the delinquent could be someone out there. It seemed like he might be living somewhere, struggling to raise a child.

But the fact that this character didn’t exist in real life was unsettling. This delinquent wasn’t Ryu Sihyeon. Nothing about him matched – not his voice, his mannerisms, or his gaze. The person he had briefly met eyes with at a screening, the actor with dead eyes holding a Best Actor trophy, wasn’t the righteous independence fighter from another film. But in that movie, he was truly Ryu Sihyeon. It was very hard to do, especially for such a young actor.

Yet, it seemed so easy for Ryu Sihyeon. Everyone must have felt that.

What kind of guy is this?

A new emotion emerged in Heetae. Not negative or aggressive, just that he didn’t particularly want to see him again. That was it.

That was Heetae’s sense of inferiority.

🌸🍓🌸

— Hey, congratulate him.

While watching a movie in the living room, Heetae received a call from Chaeyeon, who immediately said that.

Somehow, he had a bad feeling, so Heetae just turned off the movie and lay down on the couch.

“Congratulate who?”

— Ryu Sihyeon, he’s decided to do it. Our project.

“Am I included in that ‘our’?”

— Isn’t that obvious?

“Shin Chaeyeon, I haven’t even met with Director Cha yet. I haven’t given a definite answer, and I haven’t even seen the contract.”

— Hey, your side has been stalling and not confirming.

She already knew all this when she called. Actually, Heetae had told the company he wouldn’t be meeting for a while because working with Ryu Sihyeon felt awkward. He had an ominous feeling that he shouldn’t meet him. Heetae didn’t believe in fate or gods, but he trusted his gut. Sometimes, instincts are sharper than reason.

— Hey, Seo Heetae, you’re not going to do it?

“I’ll do it if you get a boyfriend.”

— Hey, if I get busy with this, how am I supposed to find time for a boyfriend?

“Everyone does it even when they’re busy. Why is it hard for you, Writer Shin?”

— Is it easy for you? You don’t know, but even flirting here is tough.

“Is that so?”

Heetae deliberately dragged out his response, sounding somewhat teasing. Chaeyeon wasn’t someone who would miss Heetae’s intentions.

— Don’t change the subject. Why don’t you want to do it? You said it was fun. You’ve already received the scripts up to episode 5.

She had forced them on him. Heetae, exasperated inside, threw out an excuse.

“I don’t like the chaebol character.”

— I asked you to give feedback.

There was nothing to give feedback on. In fact, he had only read the first episode.

“The Jang Jin character seems too much like someone I know, so I can’t do it.”

At Heetae’s off-the-cuff remark, Chaeyeon was momentarily speechless,

— Hey… what are you talking about? You’re going to get in big trouble. Don’t make me laugh.

His half-baked excuse didn’t work.

— Why don’t you want to do it? You said you wouldn’t do roles you’ve already done before, right? You haven’t played a prosecutor yet. This one’s really good, I’m telling you.

Was that so? The prosecutor didn’t appear much in the first episode, so there wasn’t much to judge. What he remembered from the scenes where he did appear was that the character seemed too perfect and confident, which didn’t pique his interest.

— Hey, you said you’d do it if the script and the role were good.

“That’s true.”

With no more excuses to give, Heetae clicked his tongue quietly. If it were another actor, he could have said he wouldn’t do it unless he was the first credit. But Heetae had once declared that he wouldn’t do typical main roles because they were boring, so he couldn’t use that card. The bigger problem was that if he refused here, it could lead to the conclusion that ‘your script isn’t good.’

— I didn’t want to say this, but…

While Heetae was thinking up excuses, Chaeyeon interjected.

— Ryu Sihyeon was really excited to work with you.

“Why?”

— He’s a fan of yours.

“We’ve only met a few times, and he never said that. I was the one who started talking.”

Heetae responded, recalling his memories. He knew the Ryu Sihyeon who wouldn’t make eye contact and answered in a small, formal voice. If he were truly a fan, he wouldn’t have acted like that. There were many who openly claimed to be fans, shaking their tails and calling him ‘hyung’, or at least showing some shyness. If he was going around calling himself a fan, he would have shown some sincerity that day.

“Actors who act well also lie well. You’ve been fooled, Shin Chaeyeon.”

— No, it could be true. Do you know how much guys like you? Even our assistant director really likes you.

“Hey, stop saying stuff like that.”

— No, but…

Suddenly, Chaeyeon started using an exaggerated tone.

— How can you ignore such pure intentions?

“Don’t overdo it.”

Shin Chaeyeon giggled, enjoying herself. Heetae furrowed his brows at the sound. She could be a bit crazy sometimes, or rather, often.

— But really, he said that. He said he really respects you because you’re tall, have a good physique. When I said you’re my friend, he asked how much you work out, if you take protein.

“…Ryu Sihyeon?”

— No, the assistant director.

He didn’t care about some assistant director he didn’t even know.

— Hey, please do it. I wrote the role of Lee Joo-hwan with you in mind. And if you say no, and then Ryu Sihyeon says no, I’ll be really screwed…

When Shin Chaeyeon begged like this, it was hard to say no. He had always thought she was cute since they were kids. And she had a somewhat pitiable side to her.

Even if he couldn’t save others, he could at least grant a request. It was the least one person could do for another. Heetae agreed to do one meeting and then hung up the phone. Of course, he didn’t say he would definitely take the role.

🌸🍓🌸

The meeting schedule was quickly set. The location was a Korean restaurant near Yeouido called <Noeul>. It was a place Heetae often visited because of its good atmosphere.

On the day of the meeting, Heetae met with his friend Chaeyeon and Director Cha without his manager. He had heard that Director Cha had left a broadcasting company a few years ago to start his own production company and had produced several hits.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Writer Shin.”

Director Cha poured Heetae a drink as he spoke. It was the famous chrysanthemum liquor from <Noeul>. The unique subtle fragrance spread through the private room with its tidy interior.

“You were childhood friends, right?”

“We’re best friends, best friends.”

Chaeyeon answered for him in response to the director’s question. Heetae just smiled at the ‘best friend’ who was downing her third glass. Judging by how she was emphasizing their friendship and the choice of venue, it seemed like she wanted a definitive answer today. But Heetae, still in thought, asked a formal question.

“How’s the casting going?”

“Almost done.”

That was Director Cha’s response. Despite his calm demeanor, renting out an expensive private room in a Korean restaurant for one lead actor indicated a hidden determination.

“Is it that far along already?”

“It was all done while you were dragging your feet.”

Heetae asked nonchalantly, and Chaeyeon grumbled in response. “Oh, really?” Heetae replied with a slight smile. Inside, he thought they got along very well. Curious if there was something between the two that he didn’t know about, Heetae scrutinized the director’s face, but it didn’t seem like Chaeyeon’s type.

Unaware of the dubious gaze, Director Cha smiled calmly and said,

“I was so nervous that Heetae might say no. We need a strong character for our drama, and someone like Heetae is perfect. Where can you find this kind of mask and physique?”

That was such a cliché comment.

Seeing him talk about mask and physique made Heetae not look forward to the prosecutor character. The roles where the conclusion was always ‘he’s handsome’ were so tiresome that he was sick of them. This was one reason why his next project was not easily decided.

Heetae looked intently at Chaeyeon sitting opposite him. Shin Chaeyeon knew well what kind of role actor Seo Heetae wanted. Yet, making him come here just annoyed him. Chaeyeon, seeing Heetae’s expression, quickly added,

“Hey, you haven’t read the script, right? This isn’t the kind of character you’re thinking of. Of course, we need your face and physique. There’s something called aura. From the moment you see him, the main character Jang Ichon needs to feel threatened and hostile; we need that kind of overwhelming presence.”

“Stop it. I get it.”

Although Heetae didn’t mean to, the atmosphere suddenly became tense. He knew that if he didn’t say anything, the mood would cool down, but he was too lazy to fix it right away. Usually, he pretended to be kind, but he couldn’t always be nice to everyone. Fortunately, even if Heetae remained silent, Shin Chaeyeon continued cheerfully without hesitation.

“Look at this, this. This atmosphere right now. This vibe. That’s what we need.”

“Shin Chaeyeon, sometimes I think you should practice silence, and this is one of those moments.”

“Sorry. Should I shut up for a bit?”

Chaeyeon giggled and downed another glass of alcohol. Once she set down the glass, her face turned serious, as if she had transformed from Shin Chaeyeon to Writer Shin.

“You have both character and acting ability, and you’re an actor everyone wants. Honestly, we do need your popularity and looks. Even if you were 80% as handsome as you are now and 5 cm shorter, I would’ve still asked you. But you’d still be handsomer than most, right? You’re about 186 cm tall, right? Wow, you’re really handsome. This sharp jawline…”

“I get it, I’ll think about it, so stop. You’re going overboard.”

Heetae responded with a half-hearted smile, unimpressed by the flattery of his appearance. He was just smiling for the sake of it because he was being complimented. The director, having gauged the mood, spoke with a benevolent expression.

“I think there are many good-looking and talented actors. If you walk down Daehangno, you can find ten. But are they all usable actors? No. There aren’t many who can build an impressive image like Heetae does; that’s your weapon.”

Maybe. Heetae smiled outwardly but couldn’t agree inside. If that were truly an effective weapon, choosing his next project wouldn’t have taken this long. Last year, he tried doing a villain role to break away from that image, but the conclusion wasn’t much different. Even if the character was crazy, he was cool, or if he was bad, he was sexy. No matter what he did, that was the conclusion. It seemed like no one wanted him to shed that image, so it just happened naturally.

This was also why he couldn’t play the main character Jang Ichon, consumed by revenge and inferiority. Seo Heetae had never played a role of such a life’s failure. Like the delinquent high school student in an indie film he had seen before. At this rate, being an actor might lose its appeal.

Heetae clicked his tongue once and picked up his glass. Just then, Chaeyeon sitting across from him poured more alcohol. As the white glass filled and the scent of chrysanthemums spread, a thought suddenly came to mind.

How can I not look cool?

And he found his own thought to be quite ridiculous no matter how he looked at it.

🌸🍓🌸

That day’s meeting, which was more private than a typical meeting, ended without reaching a conclusion, leaving things ambiguous. Perhaps feeling uneasy about this, Shin Chaeyeon sent scripts up to episode 8 the next day, insisting that he read them. Since he could at least read the script for her, Heetae started reading. And when he actually did, he found that the prosecutor Lee Joo-hwan was unexpectedly not typical and quite interesting.

He was one of the few just characters in an immoral prosecution group, but he had a cunning side, willing to do anything to catch the bad guys. The fact that he wasn’t just righteous and had a conflict with his upright colleague, Han Seyeong, was also intriguing.

Another good point was that there weren’t many scenes with the main character Jang Ichon as expected. The core leads had their own narratives. The reason they got entangled was because of Jang Ichon’s schemes, which made him the main focus, but that meant there wouldn’t be much need to see Ryu Sihyeon. It would be silly to refuse the role because of him.

Coincidentally, a few days ago, his uncle suggested that if he wasn’t going to work, he might as well get married, which was starting to get bothersome. He did need to take on a new project, and among the scripts he had received, this one was the best. With the intention to discuss the project further, Heetae called Writer Shin. The friend who answered the phone playfully said she would do whatever the top star Seo Heetae wanted.

🌸🍓🌸

In an ordinary early autumn, his next project was decided.

<Thirst> was a blockbuster with a luxurious cast, and it was a project that both the production company and the broadcasting station TBS took great care of. There were people among the confirmed staff and cast who had worked with him before. On the script reading day, Yeo Joohee approached Heetae, who had arrived early and was flipping through the script.

“Seo Heetae, it’s been a while.”

Yeo Joohee greeted him as she sat across from him. Heetae also acted somewhat friendly.

“Have you been well?”

“I’ve been well.”

“I went to the cinema last week, and I saw your ad on the screen. I watched it well.”

“I wish there was a movie playing, not just an ad. None of the scripts coming in lately have been to my liking.”

“Do this one, then. If you like anything by Director Jeong Kiyeon, I’ll talk to him. Kiyeon has been singing your praises lately.”

At that, Yeo Joohee chuckled.

“Did Director Jeong say that? So, did Seo Heetae not have a next project because you were waiting for Jeong’s project instead of <Thirst>?”

“Oh, was that?”

Behind Yeo Joohee’s teasing voice, Chaeyeon’s voice followed. Glancing over, Chaeyeon was entering.

“Did you have a deal with Kiyeon oppa?”

Chaeyeon added as she sat down, “I haven’t been fond of that guy recently,” with a sulky expression, which Heetae found amusing inside.