“Hey, sister said to give you this.”
On his way after class, while heading off for a meal, Kim Min-seok handed Han Seung-tae a shopping bag.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the outfit you wore last time. My sister thinks it suits you well. She must like you a bit—you know, our sister rarely gives guys clothes as a gift.”
“But she already gave me some allowance back then. I wasn’t expecting gifts like this.”
Han Seung-tae blinked as he examined the contents of the bag. He hadn’t sought her out to receive gifts like this. Besides, after the shoot, Kim Mi-so had already given him a generous ten-thousand won allowance, for which he was very grateful. He never expected her to even gift him clothes, too.
“Isn’t this expensive?”
“No, not really. It’s basically the clothes you already wore, and since they’re for display, they’re not even for sale. Don’t worry about it—just take them. If you don’t like them, you can always call her later.”
“Alright, I guess I’ll do that. One sec.”
“Hey, aren’t you calling her right now?”
Clutching the shopping bag tightly, he called Kim Mi-so on the phone. He still had her business card from when he visited the office.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Seung-tae.”
“Seung-tae? Hey, what’s up?”
“I just got the clothes from Min-seok, and I wanted to thank you.”
There was a light laugh on Kim Mi-so’s end. She reassured him that it wasn’t a big deal.
“Really, thank you so much. I’ve never received a gift like this before—I’m not sure how to even express my gratitude.”
“Honestly, it’s the first time I’ve ever given a guy clothes. I thought they looked great on you—and, well, you’ve been working so hard, so I felt a bit sorry that I hadn’t done more for you.”
“But you also gave me the allowance…”
“That’s another matter. The important thing is you received it well. Make sure you wear it nicely. A guy with a dream of acting, and such a good face—well, just take care of yourself. See you on Thursday.”
Han Seung-tae nodded, expressing his thanks once more before the call ended. Looking down at the now darkened screen, he let out a light sigh.
“Hey, is your phone call over?”
“Yeah, it just ended.”
“Then let’s go eat. I had just a bit of bread this morning and I’m starving.”
“Ah, sure.”
Before long, Kim Min-seok’s familiar voice prompted Han Seung-tae to nod. He was already on his way to grab a bite. It was much nicer to eat with someone than alone. Together, they headed to a nearby snack bar not far from Korea University.
At the snack bar, clattering dishes and the buzz of conversation mixed with the sizzle of food being served. Han Seung-tae and Kim Min-seok shared several dishes.
“Hey, so what are you going to do for the school play this time?”
“Huh?”
“You know, the annual tradition in the Theater and Film Department. Every year we put on a play.”
“Ah…”
Han Seung-tae, who was dunking some gimbap into tteokbokki sauce, paused at Kim Min-seok’s words. Suddenly, he remembered—the annual play, usually held around November, one of the major events led by the department, had completely slipped his mind. It was a performance put on by the first-year students to showcase everything they’d learned before advancing to the next grade.
“How could I forget something so important?”
Had he been too busy? As a student of Korea University’s Theater and Film Department, he could never forget this. The department’s annual play was well-known in the industry—directors, production companies, and entertainment agencies even scouted for talent from it. It was a prime opportunity for him.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to skip it?”
“Yeah.”
“I knew you wouldn’t miss it—you’re not the kind to bail on something like this. I’m in trouble myself; I really don’t want to do it, but I can’t just skip it either.” Kim Min-seok grumbled as he munched on a rice cake.
After a brief silence, Seung-tae spoke up while watching his friend.
“Is it because of the professor?”
“Huh? Well… yeah. If I were to skip it, my mom wouldn’t let it slide—I hate the constant nagging, but I also don’t really feel like acting.”
“Just do what feels right.”
There wasn’t much Han Seung-tae could say. He knew too well what Kim Min-seok’s future held—but he couldn’t just blurt it out, especially given his complicated family situation.
“Alright. Oh, look at the time. Let’s go or we’ll be late for class.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll cover the bill. My sister said you need to eat well—you need to put on some weight.” Kim Min-seok said.
Han Seung-tae scratched his cheek in response.
Later, in class, the room was buzzing with the noise of students.
“If anyone wants a particular role, speak up now. Don’t wait around until later to cause a fuss.”
“So, who’s going to play the baker’s wife?”
During the role assignment for the play, which was becoming a hectic debate due to limited parts and overlapping interests, the students argued loudly. There was a chaotic atmosphere in the Theater and Film Department’s annual play rehearsals. The director, Lee Hye-yoon, watched silently as roles were assigned one by one.
“The remaining parts…”
While everyone was busy choosing their desired roles, Han Seung-tae quietly scanned the list. Some roles were well-known for being “undesirable” among the students. Among countless roles, one in particular, that of the “Pierrot,” was frequently shunned.
“So, it’s always the last one standing, huh?”
The play’s theme was “Their Story,” and in it, the role of the Pierrot was meant to be both comical and a bridge connecting the main characters. On paper, it was an important, high-impact role, but the students avoided it for a reason.
“Who’s going to play the Pierrot?”
“I don’t know—someone, anyone, as long as it’s not me.”
“Who in their right mind would take that on? Acting is already damn hard, and this isn’t even a cool role. You’d only end up being laughed at.”
“It’s not a great part—sure, it has a lot of stage time, and it’s pretty challenging. But it’s basically… garbage. Is it so filthy that people are scared of it? Or is it just too dirty?”
The reaction toward the Pierrot role was decidedly negative. It was challenging and easily subject to ridicule. Even the senior students avoided it; no one wanted to take on a role that was seen as just a supporting part meant to boost the main characters.
“Exactly the role I want,” Han Seung-tae thought to himself.
Despite everyone dismissing the Pierrot role as too difficult and unappealing, Han Seung-tae felt drawn to it. The challenge meant that it required great acting skill—and if performed well, it could leave a strong impression.
“In the past, I would never have imagined this,” he thought.
[“The Thousand Faces scratches its chin as it reviews your script.”]
[“The One Who Creates Laughter in Tragedy twinkles its eyes, saying the character has considerable charm.”]
He possessed something that others did not, thanks to the acting gods watching over him. That was reason enough for him not to fear. Of course, he wasn’t planning to depend solely on them; ultimately, the performance was entirely up to Han Seung-tae. If he didn’t put in the effort, nothing would come of it—and he wasn’t about to rely completely on the gods. He believed that achieving a dream on your own was what made it truly admirable.
“I want to do it, but… I just can’t seem to speak up.”
He longed to volunteer for the Pierrot role, yet with all the chatter and commotion among the students, it was hard for him to raise his voice. They weren’t just choosing roles—they were also chatting with the person sitting next to them. Lee Hye-yoon didn’t really step in to stop them.
When only a few roles remained, Park Chang-sik finally stood up and grabbed everyone’s attention with a few simple gestures and his voice. He naturally commanded the room.
“I want to recommend someone for the Pierrot role. Is that okay?”
“Pierrot role?”
“Chang-sik, you have someone in mind? This is a first.”
Murmurs spread among the students, and as they watched, Park Chang-sik—usually the quiet type who never revealed much about himself—surprised them by stepping forward.
“I’m recommending Han Seung-tae.”
“Han Seung-tae?”
At Park Chang-sik’s words, all eyes turned to Han Seung-tae. He blinked in surprise.
“This wasn’t planned…”
Although Han Seung-tae was indeed up for the Pierrot part, he hadn’t expected Park Chang-sik to volunteer him. While he appreciated the recommendation, it left him a bit flustered.
“After watching your monologue last time, your acting was really impressive. I’m not the only one who thinks so, right?”
“Uh, yeah… I mean, that’s true.”
“Right. Han Seung-tae, your acting really blew us away.”
“In fact, I think you were even better than Park Chang-sik back then. So you’re perfect for it!”
It seemed as if the atmosphere was steadily pushing him toward the role. Among the students, Park Chang-sik’s smile when looking at him wasn’t entirely friendly either.
“Um…”
“Seongtae, can you take the role of Pierrot? Of course, if it’s too much for you, you don’t have to—I wouldn’t force you if I knew you’d struggle.”
Park Chang-sik’s tone held a mix of concern and insistence. Though he apologized for having to bring it up, his eyes were sharply fixed on Han Seung-tae. Meeting that gaze, Han Seung-tae scratched his cheek.
“This guy….”
Observing the charged atmosphere in the classroom, he couldn’t help but form a wry smile.
“Everyone’s waiting for your answer.”
It was clear that Park Chang-sik assumed Han Seung-tae wouldn’t take the role, or if he did, he’d falter.
“How considerate of him,” thought Park Chang-sik. But there was one thing he didn’t know—Han Seung-tae wasn’t just a guy who barely had talent yet worked endlessly.
[“The One Who Creates Laughter in Tragedy says your table is fully set.”]
[“The Thousand Faces nods, saying you’re actually a pretty good guy.”]
He wasn’t alone.
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