A toasty, nutty aroma.
A wooden table worn glossy from use.
Lighting just dim enough to cast a mellow mood.
Arms folded, I sat in the seat of honor at the largest table in Father’s chicken restaurant.
Mm, good.
Father’s chicken I asked for should be coming out any minute now.
“Waaah!”
“Eat up, everyone! Since you’re Siwoo’s fri—no, no, you’re colleagues, the mister’s giving you a special service!”
Clatter.
The five whole chickens I’d ordered from Father finally arrived.
Fresh from the fryer, the chicken in its lovely golden batter sent up billows of hot steam.
Right beside it, a heap of sauce‑coated sweet‑and‑spicy chicken spread a mouth‑watering scent.
And the finishing touch:
Thin‑cut fries sprinkled with Father’s special powder sauce, just lifted from the oil, were still piping hot, steam drifting upward.
The ten child actors sitting on either side of me lit up at the sight.
A few looked as if drool might drip any second.
“Shall we dig in now?”
As though giving a ready‑set‑go signal, I spoke.
The kids nodded fiercely and shouted to Father:
“Thank you for the food!”
In chorus they lunged with their forks at the chicken.
Some didn’t care about the heat and simply grabbed pieces with their hands.
Watching them, I added with a bright smile:
“Yakult is bottomless, so drink as much as you like, hyung‑ahs and noonas.”
“Munch munch—thanks, Siwoo.”
“Wow, this is really good… Siwoo, do you eat this all the time?”
“Mm‑hm, not always, but if I want some, Dad makes it.”
“That’s awesome.”
“So jealous.”
Kids will be kids.
They’re so weak to food.
I made full use of being the chicken‑shop owner’s son.
Yesterday, as rehearsal ended, I went to the cluster of kids and said just one line:
Let’s go to my place for chicken.
“Here’s my house.”
I brandished a Hee‑Hee Chicken flyer that read, “Shining Chicken that Brings Joy!”
Of course it showed a mouth‑watering photo of fried chicken.
Amazingly, the child actors’ moms even gave their kids a push in response.
The kids were already tempted by the word chicken.
Glancing at their moms, they all followed after me when told they could go.
“H‑hmph! I’ve eaten loads of chicken and fries too, you know!”
And the surprise was that Seong Ji‑hun came along meekly as well.
Though once here he wasn’t eating, just sulking, which was a bit annoying.
Naturally, this wasn’t all I’d prepared.
“Tasty, everyone?”
“Yes! Super tasty!”
“It’s the best chicken I’ve ever had!”
“Thank you!”
“Ha‑ha, thanks.”
Father beamed, truly delighted by the children’s praise.
He’d worried ever since I said I’d bring friends—no, colleagues—but now seemed relieved.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Eat plenty, and ask for more if you need it.”
“Mm‑hm!”
At Father’s gentle words I nodded big.
I speared a steaming piece and neatly stripped the meat.
Born a chicken‑shop kid, I’m a pro at deboning.
Unlike the kids getting grease everywhere, I polished off a piece gracefully with a fork and stood up.
“Mom, Mom. Where’s that thing?”
“Ah, that. I put it here.”
Mother, at my words, took a large shopping bag from a corner.
Phew, I spent a chunk of my earnings on this.
I’d actually planned to save up secretly and buy something: that huge TV in Moon Hee‑seong’s living room!
Too pricey to ask Father for, I meant to buy it with my own money, but I decided to postpone the TV to become a proper lead first.
“All right! Everyone, take one of these too.”
Circling the table, I handed out gifts.
Mother and I had bought them yesterday at the mart.
The man at the toy section picked things today’s kids supposedly go crazy for.
Mom kept saying she’d pay, but I insisted.
Only if I paid myself would the gifts’ meaning come across.
To one child actor, the newest transforming robot from a hit cartoon.
To another, a play‑kitchen set where you cook for real.
I’d checked their tastes in advance—no way they wouldn’t like them.
As I handed out the packages, the kids’ eyes went round.
The impatient ones ripped the wrapping with greasy hands.
I held back a frown.
Such manners, opening a gift like that without even a proper thanks.
If Teacher Christine, who taught me etiquette back in Battenberg Castle, had seen, she’d have fainted.
Patience—these children aren’t aristocrats.
It’s four hundred years later.
And we’re in Korea.
They’re still young.
“Whoa!! It’s a Diano Transforming Robot! I wanted this so bad!!”
Hearing that thrilled exclamation eased my building irritation.
“H‑hmph! They say that’s the hottest thing now, hyung! Like it?”
“Y‑yeah!! Totally. I really wanted it but Mom never bought it. Thanks a ton, Siwoo.”
Hugging the robot box, one boy looked about to cry.
Kinda cute?
Seeing him, my mood fully lifted and I asked with a laugh:
“Hee‑hee, really?”
“Really really! Ah, Si‑woo, just talk casually—we’re friends performing together.”
Encouraged, one after another the kids opened their gifts.
The girl actors too thanked me, saying the toys were the ones from TV ads.
“Si‑woo, after we finish the chicken, wanna play with these here?”
“Mm‑hm! Dad, is that okay?”
“Sure. There’s time before opening; play all you like.”
Because I said I’d bring the kids, Father had opened earlier than usual today.
Smiling, he agreed.
The kids happily set their toys in a corner and returned to tear into the chicken.
“Siwoo, do you like neck meat too? I love this.”
“Hey, eat a wing and you’ll cheat in love—they say so! Thighs are best!”
“Eating wings doesn’t make everyone cheat, you know? Si‑woo, you’ll eat this too, right?”
But the mood had changed completely.
While enjoying the chicken, the kids were chattering to me, not afraid of Seong Ji‑hun’s glare anymore.
In fact they were busy talking my ear off.
The power of presents was real.
Clearly those were the same kids Ji‑hun had made act mean, and my eyes had been right.
Maybe because they’re young—
With food and gifts, they quickly warmed to me.
Now the one left out like an orphan on the Nakdong River was Ji‑hun himself.
The kids clustered around me, noisy, not even glancing his way.
Dang, this isn’t it.
My goal is to be a lead acknowledged by everyone.
That includes Seong Ji‑hun, who shares my role.
While I pondered how to handle this, I saw one child approach Ji‑hun.
“Ji‑hun, aren’t you gonna open yours?”
“I don’t take stuff like that. Hey, you guys, what’s wrong with you? This is called a bribe. You shouldn’t just take it!”
He’d picked up that word somewhere.
Face reddening, Ji‑hun barked.
The child glanced at him, then pointed to Ji‑hun’s gift.
“But yours is kinda bigger…? Really not gonna take it?”
“Uh, uh?”
“Then can I at least look and swap with mine?”
Pure, child-like innocence.
Flustered, Ji‑hun said no and finally opened the gift.
“Wow…”
A kid watching nearby let out a sigh of awe.
“…”
Ji‑hun himself froze.
No wonder: unlike the identical gifts to the others, I’d given him the Ultra‑X Diano Transforming Robot full set.
Seeing what it was, Ji‑hun’s lips twitched.
Phew, that cost a lot.
I chuckled at his expression.
When the person at the center takes special care of you, who refuses?
At the imposing box, twice the others’ size, the boys swarmed over.
“Wow! Hyung, can’t we swap that with mine?”
Another younger actor, eyes shining, asked.
Hearing Ji‑hun say he didn’t want it, another child suggested:
“Then since Ji‑hun doesn’t want it, can’t we all have it?”
“Huh? True! Rock‑paper‑scissors, winner gets it?”
Babble babble.
Having seen Ji‑hun’s enormous gift, the kids chattered excitedly.
Leisurely munching fries, I watched.
I popped open a Yakult to sip when a loud voice rang out.
“Ugh! No way! Why is it yours? It’s mine! I’m taking it!”
“But you said—”
“I said it’s mine! No!”
Exploding, Ji‑hun waved his arms, blocking them.
After yelling he didn’t want it, he now clutched the big box tight, eyeing the others warily.
Watching the scene, I finally spoke.
“Hmm, Ji‑hun hyung, do you like that robot?”
“Uh, uh? Uh‑huh…”
“Hehe, then aren’t you gonna say thank‑you to me?”
“Huh?”
Completely flustered, Ji‑hun fidgeted.
Hearing me, the kids joined in:
“Yeah, Siwoo gave yours specially bigger—say thanks.”
“We all did.”
“Si‑woo gave gifts and bought chicken today.”
With gifts and chicken, the kids were firmly on my side.
Under our combined attack, Ji‑hun, face reddening, finally muttered:
“Th‑thanks…”
“Mm‑hm? What was that?”
“THANK YOU!”
Almost snapping, he barked gratitude, then sat hugging the gift and nibbled chicken.
After a few bites he must have liked it; he settled in and started gnawing in earnest.
Hmph, got him.
Father’s sauced chicken is pretty killer.
Even the toughest one, Ji‑hun, had raised the white flag.
I glanced around at the kids seated and eating, then stood.
The chicken and gifts were only means to my real goal.
Now was the time to bring that up.
“Ahem, everyone. How about raising your Yakult?”
Yakult in one hand, I smiled.
Not knowing why, the kids lifted theirs and stared blankly.
“Acting’s about each person’s performance, sure, but in the end we do it together. When we all blend well, that’s when a show’s truly fun. Right?”
Soft murmurs of “Mm‑hm” came from here and there.
“So in rehearsals and on stage alike, I hope we have fun. Then the audience watching us will have fun too, right?”
The kids glanced at one another, then nodded.
“We’re too old to whine for no reason now, aren’t we? We’re not babies.”
Nothing stings a child more than being told they’re not babies.
I’d felt something rise in me every time I heard it myself.
“Let’s do our best together!”
Finishing my speech, I downed the Yakult in one go.
Ahh, that’s the taste.
Thunk. I set the empty bottle on the table; everyone followed suit.
Setting their bottles down with refreshed faces, the kids chattered brightly.
“Yeah!”
“Right! We’re not that young anymore!”
“We’re actors on the Gwanghwamun Center stage!”
“Our teacher said getting along is best!”
Seems they got it.
Seeing their faces so different from when they’d come in made me smile.
Man, playing the protagonist isn’t easy.
Then, feeling a gaze, I turned toward the kitchen.
Mother and Father were watching my beaming face with equally pleased smiles.
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