T/N: The author uses present tense for on-stage scenes to denote the audience is watching events unfold in real time.
“Wahaha.”
“Wahahaha.”
Tonight, laughter never stopped echoing through the Grand Hall of the Gwanghwamun Culture Center.
Not once during the entire run had the audience laughed this loudly.
The subtitle for the final performance reads “RUN: Encore.”
Because it is the very last show, the cast decided simply to have fun onstage.
An announcement had gone out beforehand saying the encore performance would be special:
“Because the actors will stage a special show, running time may exceed the posted length.”
That note on the last ticket‑sale notice made the scramble for seats even fiercer: every seat sold out in two minutes.
“Whaaat! But pepperoni’s Johnny’s absolute favorite … !”
“Nixon, are you certain Johnny’s favorite pizza is really pepperoni?”
“M‑Mother?”
“Think carefully. Are you absolutely sure of that?”
Normally this exchange ends quickly, but Bella (No Yeong‑hui) drills Nixon (Yoo Jeong‑seok) with a prim look.
Caught off guard by her ad‑lib, Yoo Jeong‑seok flails, trying to patch the scene.
“Uh … cheese pizza?”
“Hm.”
“Hot‑chicken pizza!”
“Could your boy really handle that much spice?”
“ Combination, then?”
“It was the pepperoni.”
“Bella, please!”
The way Bella toys with her grown son delights the house; the audience giggles.
Because the ad‑lib is obviously unscripted and Nixon truly flounders, the laughs grow louder.
Elsewhere, an actor who was supposed to ask for water suddenly demands carrots, and the performer holding the water jug panics and riffs back—sending the crowd into stitches.
With so many ad‑libs—and antics that seem almost like genuine accidents—the show has already run an hour longer than usual.
Forewarned, the audience revels in this final, anything‑goes performance.
“Grandma, what is this? Honestly—I told you to be careful … ”
“Ohh … Johnny.”
Center stage are the two leads in the last scene of the last show.
In bed, Bella has collapsed after attempting a marathon; Johnny sits beside her in the hospital room.
Half the crowd already knows the story; many returned after hearing the encore would be unique.
A second or third‑time audience can guess half the upcoming lines will be improvised.
In the script the ending is warm, with each affirming their love.
“Can’t we choose something besides a marathon? Grandma, your bucket list is way too hardcore.”
“A bucket list isn’t something you edit for convenience.”
“At this rate you’ll run marathons in China, Japan, and Korea.”
“They’re all East Asia, Johnny. You’re eight—are those the only countries you know? The world map in your room must be crying. I’ll go to Sri Lanka, Kazakhstan, Palestine, Madagascar, Paraguay, Australia—just watch me.”
“Ugh—next bucket list item: become a rapper?”
Bella’s rapid‑fire rap and Johnny’s fluster spark another ripple of laughter.
“Fine, become a rapper if you like—just stay healthy, please.”
Moved, Johnny’s eyes brim with tears at the sight of bedridden Bella.
“Dear me, Johnny—crying over a sore leg?”
She pats him, soothing.
Johnny wipes his tears, circles back through the improv and reaches the play’s final line.
“So, Grandma … let’s keep running for a long, long time. No more getting sick.”
RUN.
Run anywhere, no matter how far—Johnny’s words make Bella beam.
Lights fade gradually; hand in hand they smile at each other.
Total blackout.
The hall erupts in applause.
Thunderous cheers!
The curtain fell, and the Grand Hall roared hotter than ever.
Lights rose on a bare stage—the hospital bed and set had already been struck.
While the theme played softly, extras and supporting actors stepped out for curtain call.
“That was wonderful!”
“Great job, everyone!”
The audience, holding back tears, lavished applause.
When the minor cast bowed and exited, each principal appeared in turn.
At last, Yoo Jeongseok strode onstage.
“Nixon! Make it big and support Johnny!” someone shouted.
Laughing, he waved toward the voice, drawing delighted cheers.
Gesturing backstage, he called forth the double leads: No Yeong‑hui and Han Siwoo entered hand in hand.
Siwoo carefully guided No Yeong‑hui to center, and they bowed together.
The entire audience rose for a standing ovation.
They bowed three times to the left, right, and center of the first tier, then to the second and third balconies, waving warmly.
Some spectators cried openly.
“Johnny! Bella! Stay happy!”
“Johnny, only walk flower‑strewn paths!”
Fans unfurled banners they’d hidden during the show, waving them low so the stage could see.
Each banner bore Han Siwoo’s smiling face; spotting them, he grinned even wider and waved his tiny hands again.
Applause swelled.
“How adorable—Siwoo’s tearing up!”
“That child can act, and No Yeong‑hui matched him perfectly.”
“A divine casting choice.”
“Worth every won to have seen RUN three times.”
Yoo Jeong‑seok joined them and clasped Siwoo’s free hand; all the actors linked arms and bowed once more.
“Sniff—so good!” someone sobbed.
In the audience sat PD Cha Il‑nam, who had become Siwoo’s fan after his first visit.
Eyes red from crying through Act II, he shouted praise while clapping until his arms ached.
The curtain call—twice its usual length—ended, and the cast exited. Spectators slowly filed out, chatting excitedly.
Cha Il‑nam remained, savoring the empty stage.
Then—
“Hey—PD Cha?!”
Startled, he turned, unaware of his tear‑streaked face.
His eyes widened.
“Sang-cheol hyung!”
The caller was none other than Kim Sang‑cheol. Years earlier, when Kim had been active on TV, they’d worked on a show together and become close. After Kim left broadcasting for the Daehangno theater scene, contact had broken off.
“You came today too?”
“You! We keep bumping into each other lately.”
This wasn’t their first reunion—they had met here during Cha’s third viewing.
“Why are you at every performance I attend? Let’s talk outside.”
Chuckling, Kim pointed toward the lobby.
“Sure.”
“Whoa—you cried a river; your eyes are scarlet.”
“Look who’s talking—yours are stained, too.”
“ Bathroom first?”
“Good idea …”
After washing up and blinking away the redness, they ducked into a nearby café.
“Didn’t you tell me last time this was your third viewing?”
“Yeah—and you said it wasn’t your first, either.”
“I have my reasons. Which number was today for you?”
“Fifth. At first it was work—then I just loved it.”
“I get that. I came for one of my actors, but every time it’s a treat.”
Cha slurped coffee. “Oh? Same here.”
“For the fun?”
“Well, partly. There’s an actor I’m scouting. You know I’m not exactly free.”
Aha, Kim thought—there it was. No way a star PD would come five times without a motive.
“And I suppose the one you’ve picked can’t compare to the kid I’m nurturing.”
“Oh? You assume? Don’t underestimate my eye.”
“Hmph. You think a six‑year‑old on a giant stage is ordinary? Don’t you dare eye our Siwoo—”
“What?! Han Siwoo?”
“W‑wait—you too?!”
Mid‑brag, both fell silent, realizing they had been talking about the same child.
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