Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Actor-focused magazine <​Scene & Cut>.

Reporter Yoon Seojin was checking her cue cards for the fifth time.

She normally didn’t go this far.

But who was today’s interviewee?

“Park Song... hu...”

She let the last syllable of his name escape like a sigh, infused with her current feelings.

Actually, this wasn’t her first time interviewing Park Songhu.

About three years ago, after one of his dramas ended, she had interviewed him here.

-What’s your usual approach to acting?

What kind of process could possibly result in such astonishingly terrible acting every single time?

That had been what she was thinking back then, and honestly, viewers had probably wondered the same thing.

-Hmm, I’m not sure.

The Park Songhu of that time had crossed his legs and stayed silent for a long while as if he were some great actor.

For reference, the drama they had been discussing had completely tanked in the ratings.

A lot of people blamed Park Songhu’s terrible acting... though she couldn’t say for sure whether that was actually the reason.

-I tend not to worry about my scene partner’s script and focus only on my own. That way, my ad-libs come out naturally on the spot.

-So I don’t even memorize the other person’s lines. No, I don’t even read them.

Yoon Seojin immediately understood the source of his terrible acting.

If he was acting in his own little world regardless of what the other person said, there was no way their timing would ever match.

Sure enough, after that interview aired, he was mocked mercilessly.

-Pfft...!

At the time, the camera director had burst out laughing before he could stop himself.

The other staff members had lowered their heads too.

And no wonder. That was right when the controversy over Park Songhu’s terrible acting was reaching its peak.

-Uh...

Yoon Seojin had genuinely been confused.

Was Park Songhu trying to play this off with humor?

Common sense said there was no way someone would answer like that while his drama was bombing in the ratings and his acting was under fire.

-Ah, so that’s why your acting always feels so fresh. Your scene partners must get surprised a lot too.

-Why?

-Uh, well...

Park Songhu’s expression hardened immediately.

The temperature in the interview room plunged below freezing.

The moment she faced that expression, Yoon Seojin froze.

‘What if he does that again today?’

“Hoo, hah, hoo, hah.”

She took deep breaths.

Whatever else, as an interviewer, she believed she had been at fault for failing to grasp what the other person meant.

‘Should I apologize again today?’

Would it be stranger to suddenly apologize for something from three years ago?

What if she brought it up and he gave her that cold look again?

More importantly, did he even remember something that happened three years ago?

What if Park Songhu coldly said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about”?

One thought led to another.

Knock, knock—

“Actor Park Songhu has arrived.”

The interview room door opened.

“Haha, hello.”

Yoon Seojin reflexively stood.

‘Huh?’

But she was slightly taken aback.

Because Park Songhu bent neatly at the waist in greeting.

‘What?’

She had fully expected him to give a disinterested little nod and sit down.

Even now, Park Songhu was lightly greeting the surrounding staff with his eyes.

His face was still unrealistically handsome, but the atmosphere he gave off was completely different.

He seemed... milder?

His entire impression had softened, all of the chill stripped away.

‘Did his whole atmosphere change during the hiatus?’

Pushing aside her confusion, she sat across from him.

She opened the notebook containing her questions on her lap, then closed it again.

There was something she needed to say before asking any questions.

“Um, Songhu-ssi.”

Her eyes met Park Songhu’s.

Even his gaze was noticeably different from three years ago.

Back then it had been closer to an insolent What? but now, how should she put it... his eyes almost reminded her of a herbivore.

If anything, he even seemed on the verge of looking away first.

“We did an interview here once three years ago. Do you happen to remember?”

“...”

No answer.

Did he not remember, or did he remember and simply not want to say?

Either way, she had to get this off her chest.

“I was rude to you back then. You gave me a serious answer, and I treated it lightly.”

She lowered her head.

“I’m sorry.”

Silence passed.

Her heart pounded.

“...I-It’s okay.”

Yoon Seojin raised her head.

Park Songhu sat with both hands neatly resting on his knees, his gaze lowered.

“...And I’m sorry too. Knowing Park Songhu, it was definitely his fault any—”

“...?”

“Ah, no. It was my fault.”

Yoon Seojin stared at him blankly.

Then the camera director gave her a signal.

Only then did she snap back to herself.

‘R-Right. We need to start the interview.’

The red light came on.

The interview began.

“...Yes. That’s right.”

Park Songhu was still a man of few words, and his answers were short.

But unlike before, it didn’t feel like he was being brief out of arrogance. Rather, he seemed to spend a long time carefully choosing every single word.

As though he intended to take responsibility for each word that left his mouth.

The camera director pulled his face away from the viewfinder and glanced over.

For reference, he was the same director who had accidentally gone “pfft” three years ago. Now he was watching Park Songhu with admiration.

Halfway through the interview, struck by how completely Park Songhu’s attitude had changed, Yoon Seojin tossed out a light joke.

“Haha, you’re sure the person sitting in front of me right now is really Songhu-ssi, right?”

“...! Cough! Couuugh!”

“A-Are you okay?!”

Park Songhu coughed violently, apparently having choked.

One of the staff handed him water.

“What made you decide to return?”

The interview had already reached its final stretch.

The answer he gave here would determine the tone of the article.

Park Songhu lowered his gaze.

The shadow of his eyelashes fell across his cheekbones.

“...I thought I couldn’t go on like this.”

“...”

Yoon Seojin paused.

There was a strangely heavy weight behind those words.

They felt different from the polished, preprepared lines actors usually gave in comeback interviews.

“I thought I’d regret it.”

His voice was low.

Murmuring was almost the perfect word for it.

It was so quiet she might have missed it without the microphone.

Which made it sound all the more sincere.

“Is there anything you’d like to say to your fans?”

Park Songhu’s gaze wandered somewhere in the air.

As though he were remembering something.

“...I want to tell them thank you.”

Ordinary.

A textbook answer one might expect in a comeback interview.

Yoon Seojin was about to respond.

“For waiting.”

It wasn’t over.

Park Songhu’s lips moved again.

The shape of someone repeatedly trying to say something more, then stopping himself.

“You waited for me, but...”

A painful melancholy began settling over Park Songhu’s pale, delicate face.

Staring blankly at that picturesque face, Yoon Seojin found herself speechless.

Then she felt a dull ache somewhere in her chest.

“...”

The public’s standards were harsh.

But when someone in front of you appeared genuinely remorseful, your heart couldn’t help but waver.

‘He’s become... deeper.’

“This is the final question. What kind of side of yourself would you like to show people from now on?”

“...”

Silence flowed.

Five full seconds of dead air.

Five seconds was a very long time in an interview.

Park Songhu’s gaze slowly lowered.

He was looking down at his hands resting on his knees.

Then, for an instant, his eyelashes trembled.

Something clear gathered at the tips of his lower lashes.

‘...Huh?’

Moisture.

Still clinging precariously to Park Songhu’s reddened eyes without falling.

It caught the studio light and glittered like a clear glass bead.

“...”

Yoon Seojin was dumbfounded.

Actor Park Songhu.

The man famous for being cold and aloof had only ever cried in his acting roles.

And even then, his crying had been painfully awkward.

The tears he performed in the climax of one drama had been so bad that online communities mocked him by asking whether someone off-camera was pinching his thigh.

“Um, Songhu-ssi...?”

“...”

That man.

Was now.

With eyes like a wounded deer.

“Maybe you should wipe your tears with this...”

...crying beautifully.

***

“Maybe you should wipe your tears with this...”

I accepted the tissue she handed me.

I dabbed at my eyes in confusion, and moisture came away on it.

‘...Huh, I really did cry?’

Honestly, I was a little surprised.

I had gone in thinking, if it works, great, and if not, whatever.

Who knew the chronic dry eyes I developed from staring at a monitor all day would come in handy like this?

‘It wasn’t just the tears, though.’

As I got more and more immersed in my brother’s story, at some point the tip of my nose had started to sting.

Occupational hazard of being a novelist, maybe.

Whenever I get too invested in a character, this happens.

“...I’m fine.”

I answered while pressing the tissue against the corners of my eyes to wipe away the remaining moisture.

Across from me, Yoon Seojin looked like she was about to cry herself.

“...I’m sorry. I suddenly...”

“...”

“Then we’ll end today’s interview here. Thank you for your time.”

Her voice sounded choked as the camera’s red light went off.

When I stepped into the hallway, the manager came striding toward me with unusually excited steps...

‘Eek!’

I nearly stepped backward on instinct, but came to my senses in time and barely stopped myself.

Park Songhu was definitely someone who had never backed away from anyone in his life.

No matter what anyone said, he wouldn’t so much as blink, and even when reporters’ camera flashes went off, he would lift his chin higher.

Even the hazy memories I had from when we were six were like that.

When some scary older boys in the neighborhood picked a fight with us at the playground, I cried behind him, while Park Songhu refused to take a single step back.

“Hyung! Songhu hyung! That was insane!”

“...Why.”

At least casual speech was finally starting to feel natural.

Thank goodness... no, wait.

I wouldn’t be seeing the manager again anyway.

Today was the last day.

“I was monitoring the interview, and wow. I seriously almost cried. That last look in your eyes, all full of sorrow—wow...”

All the way down to the broadcasting station parking lot, the manager showered me with praise.

‘Manager... you’ve had it rough.’

Having to flatter Park Songhu all the time.

Once I climbed into the van and leaned against the back seat, I felt the tension drain from my entire body.

After standing in front of people for two days in a row, I felt like my battery had been completely depleted.

‘It’s really over now.’

The variety show, the interview.

My short yet utterly insane two-day experience as a top star was finally finished.

Now I could return to my own quiet, peaceful, safe space.

‘Louis, I’m coming home!’

Bzzzt—

Something vibrated in my pocket.

Ah, this was the phone with my brother’s number.

Last night, just before I left the hospital room, Park Songhu had suddenly handed me a phone.

-This one has my number. Keep it, just in case.

-W-Why?

-If someone calls while you’re on set, you need to answer it yourself. What, should I pick up from the hospital room?

And this was the result.

But no one had actually called, so I’d been relieved...

[Chief Han]

‘Who is this?’

More importantly, how was I supposed to speak to him?

Formal speech? Casual speech?

Park Songhu had never taught me this!

My brain spun rapidly.

‘Ah, wait.’

In the saved contacts, Manager Jo Yonggi didn’t have any honorific attached to his name.

It was just “Manager Jo Yonggi.”

‘And if he’s a chief, that’s usually a position above a road manager, isn’t it?’

Those two clues weren’t much to go on, but I couldn’t stall any longer.

I cleared my throat and answered the call.

-Hey, Songhu. It’s me.

“...Yes.”

-Right, I heard you just finished the interview?

“...Yes.”

Thank goodness.

He didn’t say anything about it.

-Ah, and I heard from Yonggi. Apparently... you spent a lot of time thinking things over by yourself.

...Did I?

It sounded like Jo Yonggi had said whatever he wanted.

“Ah... yes.”

-Right. Well, people can change. Sure.

The way his sentence trailed off didn’t sound remotely convinced.

It had the distinct nuance of, You? Turned over a new leaf? And you expect me to believe that?

Of course, now that my top-star experience was over, it was none of my concern.

“Yes. Thank you.”

-Huh? Uh, yeah. Right. Get some rest.

The call ended with him sounding startled.

When I looked outside, we had already arrived at Park Songhu’s apartment.

Once we reached the parking garage, the manager hurried out and opened the door for me.

Slide—

Feeling awkward, I said something just to fill the silence.

“Good work.”

“Hyung, now you’re even telling me good work...”

“...You’re noisy.”

This wasn’t me acting like Park Songhu.

That was genuinely how I felt.

Please, just stop already!

“Then I’ll get going! Get some rest!”

“...”

The van headed toward the parking garage exit.

I waited until it had completely disappeared.

Bzzzt—

My phone vibrated.

A KakaoTalk notification, and this time it was my own phone.

[Park Songhu: Hey]

[Park Songhu: Get to the hospital room right now]

[Park Songhu: It’s urgent]

The Genius Actor Is Hiding Twins