Chapter 8
I stopped walking, and only then did the heat finally overwhelm me. I sank down onto the ground. After making my way all around Seoul in weather that had climbed to 35 degrees Celsius, my head was spinning.
I really need to eat better.
When I got home, I hurriedly plugged in my phone to charge. Even the charging felt painfully slow. My body trembled uncontrollably.
Maybe the reason Park Sunyoung had acted so impulsively was because I had made different choices from my previous life.
Because I had come to know Gam Ihyeon.
After making it this far…
What if Leader Actors disappeared again?
What if my family left me all over again?
The first time, I let them go because I didn’t know.
But I couldn’t do it a second time.
I didn’t want to be left alone.
As I anxiously waited for my phone to charge, someone placed a hand on my back.
I turned around to find Gam Ihyeon, leaning on his cane, having walked all the way here just to pat me reassuringly.
“I called her again. It looked like you were trying to stop something… so I told her not to do anything and just come home.”
“She’s coming?”
“Yeah. She said she’s coming right away.”
I nodded in relief.
The trembling in my body gradually subsided.
Completely drained, I nearly fell asleep right there on the spot.
“Ah, Mother!”
From somewhere in the distance, I heard CEO Gam Seongbeom arguing with Park Sunyoung.
Who would’ve thought hearing people fight could be this reassuring…
“No, seriously! How could you invest just because Father verbally agreed to make a special appearance?!”
CEO Gam Seongbeom raised his voice, his face pale.
Park Sunyoung answered,
“I didn’t. I came back without investing.”
“If Heeyoon hadn’t called you, you would’ve done it!”
“I just wanted to see your father act one more time before he passed away.”
At her subdued reply, Gam Seongbeom found himself speechless. Instead, he simply wrapped both arms around his mother in a tight embrace.
After countless twists and turns, the production of People of Wooheonjeong had finally been confirmed.
But no one had anything positive to say about it.
Gam Seongbeom had judged it to be nothing more than throwing money away and had withdrawn.
Park Sunyoung, however, couldn’t bear to let her husband lose what might be his last chance to act.
After comforting his mother in relief, Gam Seongbeom headed toward the room to check on the sleeping Lee Heeyoon.
Perhaps because of some strange premonition…
He had been told that Lee Heeyoon had spent the entire day running all over Seoul.
Gam Seongbeom picked up the phone that Heeyoon still refused to let go of, even in his sleep.
“I can’t believe they still make phones like this.”
Half-asleep, I heard CEO Gam Seongbeom yelling.
Just as I was about to drift back to sleep, the devil spoke.
[Today’s butterfly’s wings have finally grown still.]
[Congratulations!]
[Congratulations on completing your first pursuit.]
[Penalty restored.]
[+2 days]
[Current Date: August 12, 2025]
[Remaining Lifespan: 15 years, 4 months, 13 days]
After confirming the message, I closed my eyes again.
Then CEO Gam Seongbeom entered my bedroom.
The phone slipped out of my hand.
A moment later, something with a completely different feel was placed back into it.
After he left, I looked down.
It was a smartphone.
He had probably noticed how desperately I’d been struggling over my phone all day.
CEO Gam Seongbeom always knew exactly what I needed.
People in the industry always said it was because I was Leader Actors’ most valuable asset.
But I didn’t think so.
Gam Seongbeom had a genuine sense of responsibility as an adult.
That was why he could be so immature at times—
Sometimes he felt more like an older brother I happened to know.
Yet every now and then…
He felt like a father.
No—
More than just feeling like one.
He was probably the person who had most truly fulfilled the role of a parent in my life.
After he left, I checked the phone.
Several text messages from CEO Gam Seongbeom had arrived.
[CEO Gam Seongbeom: I replaced your phone. Use this one.]
[CEO Gam Seongbeom: Don’t get too emotional about it lol.]
I texted back.
[I’m not touched.]
[CEO Gam Seongbeom: Wow, you’re actually replying. Guess your rebellious phase is finally over.]
He’s still such a man-child.
Thinking that, I slipped the phone into my pocket and left my room.
By then, the sun had already set.
When I entered the living room, Park Sunyoung was still carefully examining the proposal.
I could understand why she had invested in such an obviously terrible proposal based solely on Gam Ihyeon’s promise to make a special appearance.
I sat down across from her.
“As for me…”
Park Sunyoung adjusted the glasses that had slipped down her nose.
I continued.
“If I didn’t have any role to play…”
“I’d be willing to give up every penny I own just for the chance to act.”
Before I returned…
Acting had meant that much to me.
That’s why I understood how Gam Ihyeon felt.
How desperately he wanted to act, despite his failing health.
“I tried to stop you because the proposal itself was awful.”
“But for Grandpa’s sake…”
“Grandma, I think you were right.”
Park Sunyoung remained silent for a moment.
Then she asked,
“Didn’t you once say the saying, ‘Too much deliberation leads to a bad move,’ was wrong?”
“I did.”
“Why do you think that?”
“At least when it comes to acting.”
“I’ve never once made a bad move because I thought too much.”
“…”
“In this profession…”
“Thinking deeply never—absolutely never—leads to a bad result.”
“At least, that’s what I believe.”
I was certain of it.
I read my lines.
Then I read them again.
And again.
By the time I arrived for the script reading, everything I’d prepared often turned into complete garbage.
Because my fellow actors performed differently than I expected.
Because the director’s interpretation differed from mine.
Then…
I accepted all of that.
And I read the script again.
And again.
I thought endlessly—
About my character.
About every single line.
The reason overthinking never becomes a mistake is because actors don’t think in order to find answers.
They think in order to build an entire world.
A faint smile appeared on Park Sunyoung’s face.
“You’re surprisingly good at comforting people.”
I’d never comforted anyone in my life.
Perhaps she took my words as comfort because I understood Gam Ihyeon.
Because I knew him.
Because my answer came from understanding the person she loved.
In that sense…
It was the same mechanism as acting.
I could comfort an audience.
It didn’t matter how awful my personality really was.
I only needed one thing.
To understand…
The person I was about to portray.
After hearing me, Park Sunyoung nodded.
Then she asked,
“But you know…”
“I actually don’t think this proposal is bad.”
“The problem is the casting.”
“So if investment could solve the casting issue…”
I nodded.
The biggest reason the remake of People of Wooheonjeong had failed was undoubtedly its casting difficulties.
The charm of the series lay in its six wildly independent characters.
The remake had failed to capture that.
In any case, Park Sunyoung seemed to have no intention of giving up on investing.
This opportunity had simply fallen through.
Adjusting her glasses again, she returned to studying the investment proposal.
Gam Ihyeon knew his wife had nearly made a reckless investment because of him.
He felt guilty.
Yet at the same time…
The fact that he was disappointed about losing what might have been his final chance to act made him feel utterly hopeless.
Even at night, the temperature hovered close to thirty degrees Celsius.
Following his doctor’s orders, he couldn’t go outside.
He simply stood behind the glass door, staring into the garden.
Then Lee Heeyoon appeared.
“I have to prepare for my entrance exams.”
“Don’t you have anything to tell me?”
His tone was as rude as ever.
Gam Ihyeon answered,
“What you need to do now…”
“…is lower yourself to the level of the other amateurs.”
“You’re already acting like a professional—better than any judge sitting there.”
“So that’s your long-winded way of saying you won’t help me.”
“Forget that.”
“Have you memorized a sonnet?”
“Of course.”
His attitude practically asked whether there was anyone who hadn’t.
Gam Ihyeon couldn’t help smiling.
“Would you do Sonnet 18?”
“Then let’s do it like this.”
Lee Heeyoon opened the door leading into the garden and stepped outside.
Despite the evening hour, the garden was still nearly thirty degrees.
He turned back toward Gam Ihyeon.
Curious about what the two were doing, Park Sunyoung left the proposal and sat on the nearby sofa.
Lee Heeyoon continued.
“I’ll recite the original.”
“You recite it back in Korean.”
“I’ll learn from that.”
“You have nothing left to learn from me.”
“That’s for the student to decide.”
“You insolent brat.”
Ignoring Gam Ihyeon’s click of his tongue, Lee Heeyoon began reciting Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”
The sonnet begins by asking whether the beloved may be compared to a summer’s day.
When Lee Heeyoon finished performing Sonnet 18,
Gam Ihyeon recited it back to him in Korean.
Gam Ihyeon wondered whether Lee Heeyoon understood why he had chosen this particular sonnet.
The reason lay in Shakespeare’s final line.
Unlike the fleeting summer, you will remain eternal.
And the reason for that eternity is because I have preserved you within this poem.
To Gam Ihyeon…
Lee Heeyoon was that poem.
Shakespeare, born in 1564, knew he was writing words that would still be read by a boy born in a new millennium.
He understood that while youth and summer inevitably fade,
his poetry possessed a life that would endure for centuries.
Artists leave this world first.
Art remains long after them.
There are only a handful of artists whose work possesses that kind of life.
As someone in the same profession, it was an almost unfair truth.
Yet fortunately…
Before Gam Ihyeon died,
he had met such an artist.
And he had been given the chance to leave a profound influence on him.
Standing before his approaching death,
Gam Ihyeon became just a little more at peace.
Because he had left himself behind…
Within that poem.
