Life, Once Again

After Story 58

“Sorry for making you come. If there was time, I would’ve had you send it by mail, but the application is already finished, so I couldn’t delay it any longer.”

“I’m getting an opportunity for an audition. Coming to Seoul from Suwon is no big deal.”

Miso scanned Maru’s profile quickly. She removed the unnecessary text and sorted the images by style.

“They all look neat. But aren’t you curious about who the director is, and what you’ll be working on? I was kinda taken aback when you said you’d do it as soon as I called you yesterday.”NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

“I’m not at a stage where I can choose what I do. I want to do everything I can.”

“I like your attitude. I’ll tell the assistant director that you’re a fellow worth using,” Miso said as she waved the profile in her hand.

“Since you’re here, let’s eat together. It’s lunchtime anyway.”

“As much as I’d love to, I have to get going.”

“You have work to do?”

“Our director said he finally finished the editing. We decided to have a screening together with all of us.”

She thought about what Maru said last dinner. He said he had shot a short film. Miso put the profile under her arm and spoke, “So you’re submitting that to the Short Film Festival at the end of the year?”

“He seems to have a few places in mind.”

“I hope you get good results. If it goes well and makes it to theaters, do tell me about it. I’ll go watch it with Seungah.”

After a light handshake, Maru left.

A short film, huh? She was rather curious. She wanted to know what kind of act this young and smart actor would have displayed.

Miso turned around to the acting school. If the film is a well-made one, she should soon hear news of it. After all, people who like short films would not allow a good film to disappear without a sound.

How many people would receive attention this year? Miso thought about a few faces and smiled.

* * *

-Dead. Right, she died. Mijin was… right. She was….

Jungho slowly collapsed. He clutched his head in the corner of the room filled with darkness. Just seeing Jungho muttering with a face that looked like he was about to pass out was enough to cause nervousness.

Was he finally going completely crazy? Or could he not even do that and would just let go of everything? Even while knowing the conclusion, the immersion did not break. The actor’s display of skills did not allow any room for thought.

Jiseon thought about what happened during the shoot. They reshot the same scene over and over again in the single-room apartment. The acting wasn’t bad, and the atmosphere wasn’t bad either, but neither Yoonseok nor Maru was satisfied. They would usually go to the next cut after one or two takes, but they shot this specific scene for more than half a day. Back then, she thought that they were going overboard. She thought that they were better off redistributing the time to other scenes to raise the quality of the overall film. However, now that she was looking at the film after it was finished editing, she realized why the director and the lead actor were stubborn about this scene. The two of them must have thought that the climax part was more important than the resolution part of the story. It was a splendid choice. This was the scene that needed emphasis.

-Mijin, what do I do? What do you think I should do?

Jungho was happy about the illusion of his girlfriend that his brain showed him, but as time passed by, he became more and more exhausted. In the face of his lover who he could see yet not touch and would not respond, Juungho rapidly thinned.

There was something that Maru said as he shot that scene: he wanted to shoot it after he had lost enough weight.

Jiseon thought that there was no need for him to do so when she saw the screen. Maru was perfect at acting a person whose moisture had dried completely. If he really lost more weight, then it would’ve made him look even skinnier, but there was no big problem like that either.

Time in the film kept flowing. Jungho still saw his dead girlfriend. However, he was no longer able to feel anything. Jungho made his dead girlfriend a background, just like one of the many dried leaves on the side of the road; no longer lovely, no longer painful.

Jungho’s time had stopped. He could neither progress nor regress. He kept living in the same space and time.

Now, the only one in the frame was Jungho. His friends, who talked to him, as well as all the other people with him during lectures had all disappeared.

Jiseon asked Yoonseok a question when they shot this scene, about whether Jungho went to a place where no one was, or if people had really disappeared. Yoonseok responded to her that for someone who gave up on interacting, other people were less than objects and that even if there were people in reality, Jungho wouldn’t be able to see any.

Jungho appeared on the screen, sitting down on his bed in his apartment. His face looked stiff. It felt like some inorganic lump of matter was sitting there, not a human. A soulless shell was looking forward.

She felt this during the shoot as well, but Maru’s eyes looked too freaky when he looked like that. It was better when she watched him with her own eyes. After all, she could tell through minute breathing sounds and movements that he was a living person. However, looking at him on the screen all closed up, Maru’s face and gaze made her feel uncomfortable. After pondering about it, she realized why. He looked too similar to her; the powerless and expressionless Jungho was similar to her real self.

The film rushed toward its end. The only thing left for Jungho in his solitude was his illusion.

Jungho looked at Mijin with murky eyes. His parched lips slowly fell apart.

-In the end, it’s you again.

Jungho hugged Mijin. The cut immediately changed to that of Jungho hugging empty air. The camera slowly fell backward, leaving behind Jungho who was at the center of the screen.

Jungho’s small voice flowed out — I will only love you and only you. So don’t leave me alone.

The camera left the apartment and slowly went down, showing the stairs. The staff who helped out during the shoot walked past the front of the building with a smile. Jungho’s voice had disappeared, and an ordinary night scenery filled it instead. Then, everything faded out.

Jiseon let out a short breath. She had subconsciously ended up holding her breath when the last scene started. She looked around at the expressions of everyone around the table. All of them looked to be in a daze. Only Maru was looking at the screen until the very end indifferently.

“Is that… good?” one of the helpers asked. None of the nearly dozen people here were able to speak easily.

Jiseon also refrained from answering. As she had participated in the production, she had a lot of attachment to the film. The acting of the lead actor, Maru, was flawlessly good, and the plot of the story had come out just as they had intended.

Despite that, they couldn’t say that it was good, probably because of the lacking elements throughout. There were especially a lot of deficiencies in the technical part. Even though some of them couldn’t be helped, it was off-putting to think about.

“What’s up with all of you? You look like you’ve seen something unsightly,” Maru said. “Did you expect to see a video that has a constant composition of the screen and even a perfect color balance like commercial movies? We only shot this for a little over two days. As for the editing and post-processing, Yoonseok did it by himself. Considering the cost and manpower used, the quality is really good.”

It felt better when the lead actor encouraged them. Yoonseok, who had been listening this whole time, spoke, “It’d be a lie to say that I don’t see anything I’m disappointed with. But as Maru-hyung said, I think this much is pretty good. It’s our first-ever piece. It’s our first try, so if we wanted it to be like the movies we see in theaters, I think that’s wishing for too much.”

Yoonseok said it heartily, but Jiseon could read the thick regret hidden behind that laughter. There was no one here who had more attachment to this film than Yoonseok did. It was obvious. He was the one who was with the film from start to end. He was probably really frustrated right now, angry at himself for being only able to do so much.

“The context wasn’t strange, and for the editing, you removed just enough. It at least shows what the director wants to say. Director Lee, you’re not going to end it with just this one work, are you? There’s a next time and the one after that. Do you have to be so disappointed?” Maru said, patting Yoonseok’s shoulders.

Although the ones who planned this film out were Yoonseok’s friends, including Jiseon, the process of framing the film properly and fleshing it out was done with Maru. She was thankful to Maru for understanding Yoonseok’s feelings and encouraging him.

“You’ve done well. It’s good seeing how none of us sighed while watching. Someone I know tried really hard to make their first film, but the editing was so terrible that he didn’t even finish it and threw it away. Even to me, that was terrible. But this isn’t. It has minimum functionality as a film.”

“Minimum? Only that?” Yoonseok smiled. He seemed to have gotten rid of the frustration to an extent.

“You’re too greedy to want more than that. Anyway, well done, everyone! Let’s have a round of applause.” Maru raised his hands above his head and clapped. Everyone clapped along.

“Since the screening is finished, we should naturally eat out. We can’t hold anything grand, so don’t you think fried chicken and beer are okay?” Maru took out a check from his wallet.

Jiseon knew the origin of that check. It was Maru’s pay that they just gave him this morning. There were a total of three checks from Maru’s wallet. He was adding 200 thousand won from his own money on top of the 100 thousand he received as payment.

“You’re going to pay for it?”

“When else would I be able to act like an actor? Everyone, thanks for following a deficient actor and a producer until now. It was quite a short time, shooting for three days and two nights, but it was really fun. If there’s an opportunity, I’d love to work with all of you again. Once the plans are ready, please call me any time. Han Maru the actor will act in your work at a suitable price.”

An applause louder than the screening erupted. The get-together happened in the fried chicken restaurant in front of the college. They ate, poured, and drank.

“You all ate without me?” Haneul joined in later as well.

Things led to one another, and the second screening was held in the fried chicken restaurant. They all gathered in front of a laptop with a piece of chicken in hand. For some reason, it looked better than when they watched it for the first time. The majority opinion was that it was thanks to alcohol.

“It’s not that well-made, but I like it,” Haneul said after the video ended.

“Good, good,” Maru said, closing the laptop.

The get-together that she thought would end after the first round ended up entering the second round. This was thanks to Haneul taking out her credit card.

Before they went, however, everyone headed to a nearby PC-bang. The nearly dozen people stared holes into the monitor in silence.

“I’m sending it now.” Yoonseok took his hand off the mouse. At the same time, a message popped up, saying that the file was being sent.

After a moment, the file transfer was finished. They had now handed it in for the short film festival. They also uploaded a video of it on YouTube to use as a screener, and of course, it was set to private.

“Done,” Yoonseok said, leaning on the back of the chair. It was now truly over.

“Congratulations. We’ll have to wait to see the results, but just the fact that you completed it is worth congratulating,” Maru said. Something felt fluffy.

It felt slightly different from when they were at the chicken restaurant, thinking that it was all over — so it’s truly all over now. It’s now out of our hands and in the hands of professionals.

Jiseon felt like she finally knew why content creators stake their lives on content creation.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?” Maru asked.

She nodded at Maru, who smiled at her. Then she thanked Yoonseok, who was staring at the monitor, for allowing her to create the film with him.

“There there. It’s not over now. We still have time and money left over,” Haneul said, with a credit card in her hand; it was like she was a hero who pulled out the legendary sword.

Everyone left the PC-bang with smiles on their faces, heading towards the bar under the guidance of the heroine.