There were even more mourners than on the first day.
Even though it was early morning, actors and broadcasting and film industry people kept arriving late, streaming in and out of the funeral hall without end. Familiar faces were scattered about, greeting one another and exchanging small talk.
Every now and then, news of Koo Hyun-mo's unconscious state came up lightly, like a side dish passed around.
While racking his brain over how to get into Koo Hyun-mo's hospital room, he also kept his ears peeled for the conversations around him. He couldn't help being curious about what they thought of him.
"A person ought to have a gentle heart. Maybe the blood didn't reach his head because he was always throwing tantrums."
"He'd skip shoots when things didn't go his way."
"Aw, skipping is too much. How did that even work?"
"Well... they just filmed the other actors' scenes while waiting, what else could they do? Either way, the ratings depend on that popularity... Do I have any say? I'm just a director."
"Ha... Did Koo Hyun-mo really say you're 'just a director'?"
They had no idea that the Koo Hyun-mo they were talking about was right there, cleaning up the offerings and eavesdropping on their conversation.
Of course, he hadn't expected to hear only good things. Even he admitted that, as Koo Hyun-mo, he'd been pretty prickly on set.
But it wasn't so much that he was sensitive—it was more like he was putting up smoke screens in advance, afraid of what they might say about his acting.
'Though I never actually skipped a shoot...'
The truth didn't really matter. He'd seen too many times how rumors twist and inflate the facts, enough to drive a person to their grave...
"Ha..."
He felt lousy.
Not that he could exactly argue, "Come on, I wasn't that bad."Was this the lesson—that you should just live a good, decent life?
"Whoa, our Hyun-mo's moving a bit sluggish, ain't he?"
Startled by Yu Jeong-gon's heavy voice, Hyun-mo quickly answered.
"Oh, I'm working hard..."
"Hurry it up, hurry it up. More mourners are coming in."
"I told you, I've got it..."
"Kid, where'd all your manners go lately? What happened to being cute?"
"I'm tired, that's why. Just tired..."
Due to the constant stream of mourners arriving late into the night, Hyun-mo had been working nonstop ever since he arrived at the funeral hall.
After bouncing and leaping around like a possessed hair follicle during the commercial shoot, he'd come straight to the funeral hall, where the bigger guys hauled food and Hyun-mo busily cleaned up tables. He'd lost count of how many tables he'd cleared by now. His already thinning patience was about to fly out the window, but he gritted his teeth and held it in.
Because there was someone right in front of him who had it much worse.
"How deeply you must be hurting..."
Oh Jung-seop's wife, Choi Young-sil, sat limply with a face even more haggard than before. She looked so dazed and forlorn, as if she had no strength left to stand.
They weren't the most loving couple, but after all those years together — even with all the squabbling — it couldn't have been easy to let go.
'What a selfish man. How could he leave his wife alone like this...'
Apparently, Oh Jung-seop had even left a note saying, "I'm going to a better place, so don't grieve."
Seeing Choi Young-sil, who had lost her partner in such an absurd way, made what Oh Jung-seop had done feel utterly horrifying.
"Huh? Number 23!"
He was lost in those thoughts when someone tapped him on the back.
"Yes?"
The person who greeted him first was Director Kim Woo-yong, who he'd worked with on the commercial shoot earlier that day.
"Didn't expect to see you here."
"Ah... Yes, Director."
"Who's this?"
The person next to Director Kim Woo-yong was Director Kang Si-yeon.
He'd seen her several times at film festivals. She'd been gaining attention ever since her debut film won an award at a major festival, and her commercial film from last year had also broken even. He'd never worked with her personally back when he was Koo Hyun-mo, but word in the industry was that her unique and bold directing style was something to watch — a director with a bright future ahead of her.
"Oh, hello, Director. I'm Shin Hyun-mo. I do some bit parts... small roles."
"Oh, so you're an actor."
"Hey, Kang Director. I was shooting a commercial today, and this actor here did this incredible hair follicle performance..."
Ugh, why did he have to hear about that damned hair follicle performance here of all places...
"Uh... I'll just, um, go clean up over there..."
"Oh, right! Sure thing."
Hyun-mo was so embarrassed by Director Kim Woo-yong's comment about his "incredible hair follicle performance"that he made a quick exit.
The two exchanged brief condolences and took their seats.
Amidst the noisy bustle, fragments of Kang Si-yeon and Kim Woo-yong's conversation drifted over to him.
"But, Director Kim. What was that about 'hair follicle acting' earlier?"
"Oh, it's not 'hair follicle acting' — it's hair follicle performance. It was a shampoo commercial."
"Ahh... I thought you said something else..."
"Why?"
"Oh, nothing... It's just, I'm looking for an actor to take on a role, and the character is... well, a bit angular — prickly, you know?"
"Didn't you hold auditions?"
"Mm... I did for the other roles, but the budget's a bit tight... It'd be great if I could just find someone whose image fits perfectly... It's a character I'm quite fond of, you know."
Hyun-mo, curious about their conversation, lingered nearby as he cleaned, loitering around the area.
Just in case — maybe, just maybe — they'd think of him for that role, he made sure to circle as close to them as possible.
"I got yelled at a lot when I was an assistant director, and actor Oh Jung-seop was always the one comforting me back then... Wow, but his performance in <Nakhwa> — I think I've watched it like five times. How many times have you seen it, Director Kim?"
"Twice. Ha... I'd love to shoot something like that someday, but first I need a script that's actually decent."
"The writer really went all out on that one, didn't she? She'd been working on it for almost nine years, right?"
"She probably won't write another one now, with everything that's happened..."
"Hmm..."
Unfortunately, their conversation had moved on from the hair follicle talk to <Nakhwa>, with no progress on the role.
'I really need to land a part soon... If I keep going like this, I'll just waste time and end up with nothing to show for it.'
At this rate, getting his body back within 36 months seemed impossible. And with this face, his only weapon was his acting ability.
No matter how much he practiced, there was no substitute for the real thing — and real experience only came with casting.
But as a bit-part actor or extra, it wasn't easy to catch a director's or the public's attention.
That was the dilemma.
No agency → extra or bit parts → no visibility → so still no agency.
To escape this vicious cycle, he needed luck. And not just any luck — the kind that came once in a blue moon.
Otherwise, he'd just keep going round and round until those 36 months were up.
'Still... they were talking about a role in a new film earlier, weren't they? Should I try to weasel my way in and say I want to give it a shot...?'
But then he thought — what if he bombed the audition and it backfired? His anxiety spiked. He had to act even better than he did as Koo Hyun-mo, and that terrified him.
He didn't know what kind of power that strange script held, but since his only success so far had been the hair follicle performance, he couldn't exactly trust it blindly.
'Nah, no matter how desperate I am, marching up to someone at a funeral hall and going "Please watch my acting!"is just trashy. I'm not some sociopath...'
Hyun-mo mulled it over for a moment, then gave up and went back to clearing tables.
He was quietly working away when —
"Excuse me. Could you sit here for a moment?"
"Huh?"
To his surprise, Director Kang Si-yeon called out to him first.
"Just a moment..."
She'd been sharing a bottle of soju with Director Kim and was looking a bit flushed.
"Ah... Yes."
Hyun-mo sat down awkwardly, not sure what was going on. Director Kang Si-yeon held out her phone to him.
"Here, this is the script... This scene right here. You can look at the role 'Seung-chan.' And wouldn't you know it — this scene happens to be a funeral scene... Think you can pull it off? But naturally, so that no one around here notices?"
"Oh?"
An audition at a funeral home — this was a first, and it felt almost sacrilegious, but it was an opportunity.
Well, so much for not being a sociopath.
A chance to put a dent in those 36 monthly installments and take one step closer to paying off the balance.
Hyun-mo took the phone and skimmed the script.
'Seung-chan... He's a bit of a complicated character...?'
He seemed decent one moment, then flipped and went dark the next — the kind of role that could easily fall apart if you weren't careful. A make-it-or-break-it part.
Of course, that was true for most characters anyway.
"Hoo..."
Hyun-mo looked down at the script and began to slowly steady his breathing.
The moment he read it —
—Chwarararak—
That not-so-welcome, yet strangely reassuring script appeared with a loud rustle of pages.
[Service Request.
New Role Audition.
Connecting to Seung-chan's senses and emotions from now on.]
Having been through it once before, he took it in stride. If anything, he was grateful that this time — unlike earlier — he was being asked to play a human being. It was a far cry from being possessed by a hair follicle. At least he didn't see dandruff floating before his eyes. Much better.
'...Oh!'
Suddenly, as if someone had turned on noise-canceling, the chaotic bustle of the funeral hall faded into the distance.
Before he knew it, a wave of the character's emotions washed over him, seeping in completely.
His head buzzed with a sharp tingling sensation, and he felt like a film reel was rolling through his mind — flash after flash of Seung-chan's memories, each one streaming in like scenes from a movie.
And finally, Hyun-mo opened his mouth.
"How empty it all is... don't you think, noona?"
In an instant, Hyun-mo's gaze went hollow, and all the energy drained from his voice.
"Mom lived her whole life in misery, and then she left just as emptily. It makes me furious just thinking about it. Don't you feel the same, noona...?"
Directors Kang and Kim fixed their eyes on Hyun-mo.
"Noona... Let's not live like Mom did. Let's not have everything taken from us and end up like that. I'm going to take it all. Every last bit — I'll seize it all and hold on tight. Yeah, fuck it — I'll take it all the way to the afterlife, build myself a goddamn mansion in hell and live like a king. I'm going to live that well. So you just pretend I don't exist. Got it?"
Director Kang didn't miss a single shift in Hyun-mo's performance.
'He... expanded the dialogue?'
She couldn't help but notice that Hyun-mo had added his own lines, infusing the character's emotions into Seung-chan's dialogue.
The original lines for the role of "Seung-chan"had been this:
Seung-chan:
"Noona, I'm not going to live like Mom did. I'm going to take everything, have it all, and live like a king. Even if I end up in hell."
Hyun-mo had taken that dialogue and made it his own in an instant.
The result was a bit different from the image Director Kang had initially had for the role of Seung-chan, but if anything, the revised version felt far more compelling. It even gave the dialogue — which she'd thought was a little flat — a newfound richness.
The line "I'm going to live that well. So you just pretend I don't exist. Got it?"almost sounded like someone who already knew that Seung-chan would die later on.
'How did he know...? I never showed him the later parts...'
Regardless, it was clear that he had become deeply immersed in the performance.
"So, Director Kang? What do you think?"
"Well... I... Hmm."
Director Kang Si-yeon exchanged a glance with Director Kim Woo-yong and gave a subtle nod.
"Good. That's more than enough to show me."
At her words, Hyun-mo snapped out of character and looked at the two directors.
"Yes. Like this... yes."
His eyes had returned to his usual ones, though a faint trace of Seung-chan still seemed to linger.
"Excuse me, could I get your contact info? Table 23... no, what was your name..."
"Shin Hyun-mo. Um, if you give me your phone, I'll put my number in..."
"Ah, right. Here."
His hand trembled as he typed in the number.
Inside Shin Hyun-mo's head, memories of the character Seung-chan came flooding in — flashes and fragments swirling and churning wildly, as if Seung-chan's very soul had entered his body.
This wasn't acting born from research and experience. It felt more like a completely different person had possessed him.
And that was when he realized — this was the power the script held.
'Still... I didn't have to change the lines like that...'
It was only a few lines — what did it matter? But his mouth had already said them before he could stop it.
Rather than just thinking the lines in his head, it felt like he had truly become that person — "Seung-chan"— living in that very situation.
Either way, what's done was done. And for some reason, he had a vague feeling that working with Director Kang would turn out to be quite a good experience...
"Then, I'll be in touch."
"Ah, yes!"
Hyun-mo gave a polite bow as Director Kang took her leave.
"Hoo..."
He was about to go clean up the spot where the guests had been sitting, when — despite not even acting right now — the script suddenly appeared again.
—Chwarreureureuk—
Choi Sung-ae:
"That service that finds phone passwords... did you find one...?"
The script showed another conversation between Choi Sung-ae and Manager Heo.
Heo Ji-man:
"I need to look into it discreetly, so not yet. Somewhere off the record. Sometimes those services get pushy — they find photos on the phone and try to blackmail you, noona. I have to be careful with this."
Choi Sung-ae:
"Hurry up, Manager Heo. We need to finish this before Hyun-mo wakes up."
At this point, it was starting to feel like this was actually happening.
'These people are serious...!'
If this was real, then luckily the two of them still hadn't cracked the phone's lock screen yet.
One way or another, he needed to get that phone back before it was too late.