“Today’s opening performance went great. Thank you all for your hard work!”
Everyone had gathered in the dressing room. Altogether, including the staff, there were only about twenty people, but the atmosphere could not have been livelier.
Right after finishing the first performance without any mishaps, everyone chimed in together at Gang Yong-hwi’s words:
“Good work!”
“Thank you for your hard work!”
Ugh, my ears hurt!
I was shorter than everyone else, so the booming adult voices reverberated loudly in my little ears, especially since more than half of them were actors with powerful projection. Feeling a bit dizzy, I mumbled, “G-good job…,” in a subdued voice.
“Seriously! Every time Siwoo acted, the audience kept laughing and crying!”
“Thanks to Siwoo, we won’t have to worry about ticket sales for this show. Hehe.”
“Siwoo, how do you get even better on stage? Huh? Care to share some tips with your big brother here?”
The troupe members were all throwing praises my way. Even though it was my debut—and I was only five—they were clearly trying to be supportive. Judging by their expressions, though, it didn’t seem like empty flattery.
“Ahem, I’m a heavenly genius, so I’ll teach you all step by step!”
Beaming back at them, I tried to respond just as warmly to all the enthusiastic praise.
“Okay, everyone. Listen up.”
Grinning, Gang Yong-hwi clapped his hands to draw everyone’s attention.
“You all know there’s no performance this week, and starting next Thursday we’ll run the show for a month, right? Let’s go all in.”
“So does that mean you’ll treat us to a celebratory dinner tonight, Director?”
“Heh, I came prepared.”
With that, Gang Yong-hwi pulled a black card out of his coat. The moment everyone recognized it, they gasped and covered their mouths.
“That’s the Artistic Director’s card…!”
“He must have really loved our first show, huh? I can’t believe you got the director’s card!”
At the sight of Kim Sang-cheol’s credit card, the staff of Bisangcheolddo 777 erupted into a festive mood.
“Are we eating beef tonight?”
“Beef might be a bit too much for me. How about a mix of pork? Sound good?”
“Sounds great!”
“Man, that’s still awesome. We can order unlimited drinks, right?”
Everyone was in perfect agreement. Seeing them so pumped, I tugged on my uncle’s pant leg. A cast party! I wanted to go, too!
“Sam-choon! I wanna go, too! I wanna eat meat!”
“Huh? Uh… Siwoo. We’ll be having drinks and might stay out late.”
Drinks? I was really curious about the alcohol in this part of the world. But, oh right, I wasn’t old enough to drink. Some disappointment crept in, but I tugged on my uncle’s pant leg again.
“It’s okay! I just like meat!”
“Siwoo, the problem is that I might not survive if I take you along. Your mom would kill me.”
“Ugh! I want meat!”
What nonsense was this? I stomped my foot in frustration. I had hoped that, now that I didn’t need to hide behind a mask, I could finally join a cast party. But now my small body was the problem.
Ah, speaking of my body…
I felt… weirdly weak all over… and drowsiness crept up on me.
“I also… want… meeeat…”
“You’re falling asleep, Siwoo? Dong-wook, are you sure you can join us?”
Half-lidded from fatigue, I glimpsed one of the actors and my uncle talking. My head bobbed. My uncle’s arms reached to steady me.
I had to go… to the cast party…
“Ah, yes, yes. Siwoo’s parents are here today, so… urgh— I can just leave him with my sister. I’m definitely going,” Uncle said.
“Sure, sure. He’s completely out of energy now. He might put on a brave face on stage, but at five years old he’s still no match for sleep.”
I snuggled into Uncle’s arms. Warmth enveloped me, and I sank further into drowsiness. In the end, I couldn’t resist my weariness and drifted off.
Sway, sway.
My arms and legs, dangling in midair, swayed every time my uncle took a step.
“This is the spot, I think… Where’s my sister? I can’t pull out my phone with a kid slung over my back,” he mumbled.
His voice sounded muffled to me, like I was hearing it underwater. I used it as a lullaby, dozing off again.
Back in my Oscar Troupe days, I had never once joined a cast party for fear my identity might be exposed. Going to a bar or a restaurant crowded with people was far too risky. I certainly couldn’t toast with my whole face covered—forehead to mouth—by a mask. If I got caught, it would bring trouble not only to me but to the entire troupe, so I always had to give up on cast parties.
“Master, please try this, at least.”
“Oliver… Did you think I’d stay a nine-year-old kid forever?”
After sneaking back into the enormous castle and reaching my room safely, I would sometimes feel gloomy about missing out on the after-party. That was when Oliver would knock on my door.
“So, does that mean you don’t want it?”
“Who said that?”
I’d grab a handful of dried fruit from Oliver and munch on it. Strangely, I had liked dried fruit more than fresh fruit since I was young. As a child, whenever I was scolded by the Duchess, if someone gave me dried apples or raisins covered with honey, I’d calm down right away. Knowing that, whenever I was feeling down, Oliver always brought me dried fruit.
“And have this, too.”
“You…!”
“Don’t worry. It’s cheap. We servants usually drink it among ourselves, but you should be able to cut loose, too, right?”
He’d even sneak me the commoners’ cheap wine. It wasn’t the greatest quality—too bitter and not fully fermented—but that didn’t matter.
“So, Count Verden’s wife kept visiting?”
“Yes. Didn’t you know? She always sat in the third seat, staring at you so intensely. Her gaze was so passionate I thought you must have noticed. But apparently not.”
“I had no idea. She likes my performances, too? And then, and then?”
So we’d lay out a simple little spread, and I’d listen to his stories about what happened in the audience that day or the gossip backstage. That eased the disappointment of not being able to join the cast party with the troupe.
“Mm… thanks…”
A faint mumble escaped my mouth, the words I hadn’t been able to say back in those days. Uncle stopped mid-step.
“Huh? Siwoo, what did you say?”
“…Thanks, Ta—Oliver…”
Still half asleep, I let that gratitude slip. And I let the power of slumber take over completely.
“Siwoo, say ‘Ah—’”
“Ah.”
Nom, nom.
Mom put a bite of rice wrapped in gim (dried seaweed) into my mouth, and I chewed it over. Gim was something else. Rice here already tasted good to me, but once you combined it with seaweed, it became even more delicious.
“Another one.”
“Sure.”
So lately I had been asking Mom almost every day to wrap my rice in gim. For some reason, whenever I tried it on my own, the gim kept crumbling. Seeing Mom sigh over that, I concluded that just letting her feed me was probably the best help I could offer.
I had slept soundly after finishing my first performance yesterday, so this morning’s breakfast tasted even sweeter.
“You were awesome yesterday, Siwoo,” she said.
“Really?”
I still had rice in my mouth, so my words came out garbled. Dad laughed, nodding that it was true.
Gulp.
I swallowed the rice and wriggled in my seat. I wanted to leap up, but with all my etiquette training, that kind of behavior was unthinkable.
“Mhm! I loved it too! The big light was like this, whoosh! and I felt like I was the only one on stage!”
“Wow, really? Weren’t you scared at all? I’d be terrified on such a big stage,” Mom asked.
“Mhm, I was fine! It was so fun!”
Ah, Mom, you don’t need to worry. I’ve performed on bigger stages than that.
I just said nothing.
“And the curtain call! I loved that!” I added.
“Ha ha, you liked it that much?” Dad asked.
“Yeah! When everyone clapped like this, it tingled, from here to all the way over there!”
I threw my arms wide, trying to express what I had felt. My Korean vocabulary still lacked all the words I needed, but fortunately Mom and Dad seemed to understand. They looked at me tenderly, smiling as if I were adorable.
“Ugh.”
Then came a strange groan beside Dad. It was my uncle, who had apparently come home in the wee hours of the morning. The slightest noise seemed to pound in his head, so he clutched it with both hands while shakily scooping up some bean sprout soup Mom had cooked.
Judging by how wrecked he looked, he must have drunk way too much at the after-party I couldn’t attend. Huh.
While I was still giddy with excitement, I shot him a sour look.
“Siwoo, do you really enjoy acting that much?” Dad asked.
Clicking my tongue inwardly at my hungover uncle, I heard Dad’s question. The moment of truth had arrived, and I tensed. I needed to answer carefully. Right now, I was fortunate they had allowed me to step on stage, but I knew my parents hadn’t given full permission yet.
“Yes. I love acting,” I said with grave sincerity, nodding firmly.
I shut my mouth again, waiting. Mom watched me for a moment, then softly spoke:
“I know it’s a great opportunity for you to do something you love… but I’ve been worried these days that you seem really tired. If you keep performing, you’ll probably get more opportunities, but… are you okay, sweetie? Not feeling too worn out?”
“…Opportunity.”
She was right: this production was a huge opportunity for me. A stage I had dreamed of for a lifetime, and possibly the chance to keep standing on future stages. But I hadn’t forced my small body to endure hard practice simply because I didn’t want to let this chance slip away.
I just…
“I’m not tired. It’s fun.”
Both the rehearsals and the performances were just so much fun that, if it were possible…
“I want… to do it… fore… forever,” I said.
I wanted to tell them that I wished to remain on stage for the rest of my life.
“Forever, huh…” Mom and Dad shared a look, deep in thought. After a quiet moment, they gazed at each other. Mom gave Dad a slight nod. Then Dad spoke to me:
“Siwoo, that’s fine. But if at any point you change your mind, promise you’ll tell us, okay?”
“Mhm…”
“Ha ha, we’re not telling you to stop acting, so don’t worry about that.”
“Exactly, Siwoo. We were just thinking… if our son truly wants to keep acting, maybe we should prepare a bit more.”
“Prep… pare?”
“There’s a lot to figure out. Now, shall we finish breakfast?”
I realized I wouldn’t get any definite answers by pressing Mom further right now. I was relieved enough that they weren’t telling me to quit. So I nodded.
“Okay!”
A few weeks after Rooftop House People had its opening performance, countless people flocked to the Bisangcheolddo 777 theater in Daehak-ro. Everyone was there to see Rooftop House People. Huge crowds formed for both online reservations and at-the-door ticket sales.
“Is this that show where a little kid appears?”
“Yeah. He’s performing alongside Kim Seonwoo, and apparently he’s really good.”
One girl flipped through the pamphlet from the ticket window, looking unconvinced.
“He’s only five—how good can he possibly be? Look, look at this picture. He already looks perfect. People just like him because he’s cute, right?”
“No way! You’ll see for yourself today why he’s so famous lately.”
“Han… Siwoo? Right?”
“Right, right. Han Siwoo. Do you know how hard it is to get tickets for this show these days?”
Right now, two major stars represented Bisangcheolddo 777: the rising genius actor Kim Seonwoo and the child actor Han Siwoo. People would come to see Kim Seonwoo, then get smitten by the adorable Han Siwoo, and spread the word. More and more older “brother” fans were also stopping by, shyly dropping off snacks.
“Gasp, isn’t that Han Siwoo over there?”
“Where, where?”
“Siwoo!”
Pat, pat.
Han Siwoo peeked his head around the corner near the theater, wondering if any fans were waiting for him. Sure enough, there they were.
“Hah… this popularity is something else.”
The Bisangcheolddo 777 members had taken to calling him “Daehak-ro’s Idol.”
“Mhm? Hello!”
Han Siwoo gave them a polite bow and waved at his fans before entering the troupe building.
“Kyaa! He’s so cute!”
“Siwoo, look this way!”
They kept cheering until his figure fully vanished inside the theater. Feeling that warm applause on his back, Han Siwoo allowed himself a slight smile.
I like it. I really like it—this attention and love.
Having fans who knew his name and face… how long he’d dreamed of this moment.
So this is what it’s like without wearing a mask!
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