Junseong and I headed together to Coex, where the Daedong Film Festival was being held.
He said he was in no state to drive and begged me to bring him, so we rode in the car together.
All the way there he kept jiggling his leg in the passenger seat, sighing as if something was making him terribly uneasy.
“Hey, you are driving me crazy, cut it out.”
“Huh? Ah, yeah.”
A few seconds after that dazed answer he started gnawing his fingernail.
At a red light, I glanced over; his eyes were sunken.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Slept fine.”
“At least lie convincingly. Those rotten codfish eyes? Did you drink hard last night?”
He glared at me and leaned close.
“Can you smell booze? I hardly drank.”
“That is not the point. Why did you not sleep? Are you worried about something?”
My words made him stare at me with genuine concern.
“Are you… maybe expecting Desirelessness to win an award?”
“It is nominated for best picture, so saying I expect nothing would be a lie. Junsik hyung probably hopes for best actor too.”
At Junsik’s name, he rested his head against the window, gazing outside for a moment.
“Do you remember what you said at your graduation screening?”
“What did I say?”
“Word for word, you said, ‘This is tiny compared with the crashes I will cause later.’”
“Winning at graduation is small stuff. Think of what we have done: Night hit two-point-five million, Desirelessness four million.”
“Still, I hope you will not expect a prize.”
He looked at me with watery, gloomy codfish eyes as if he knew something.
“What is this?”
“Just, I hope so. And do not be disappointed, all right?”
“Did someone tell you? Were the results leaked?”
“It is just a feeling… do not expect anything.”
He suddenly changed the subject, saying the music was old-fashioned, the weather dreary.
Clearly he knew something but could not say.
“Fine, I will stop asking. Your weird nagging is pointless.”
“Your music taste never changes, you really like this stuff?”
“Want to get out?”
“Sorry.”
The phone rang. I gave it to him.
“Answer it.”
“Junsik hyung.”
He took the call.
“Hello?”
“Hyung, it is Junseong. Are you there already?”
“Ah, Junseong. I, uh, I am in the car out front. Is it okay if I just go in? Going alone feels…”
“Wait in the car, Chanhyeon is driving, we are almost there, stay put a moment.”
“Okay, thanks!”
His voice sounded full of fear.
“Whew, hyung must be nervous.”
“Jinsu hyung and the crew should be here.”
“Probably scared to walk the red carpet alone. He wanted to go with you. Producers slip in the back door, so sad, people do not even know what we do…”
Junsik waved when he saw us in the parking area, his awkward movements proving how tense he was.
“I will take the wheel now. I will drop you two at the carpet, park, then slip in the back.”
“Great, thanks.”
Junsik climbed into the back seat and we switched places.
“Hyung, Junseong is giving us a lift to the front.”
“Really, thanks… ha ha…”
“A suit really makes the man. You look nothing like the guy I know.”
“Ha ha, thanks.”
With neat hair and a suit, he gave off the air of a successful businessman, not a desperate family man.
“Let’s drop the clumsy TV persona this time, go with gravitas,” Junseong said, and he nodded hard.
After letting us out at the carpet, Junseong drove off like a manager toward the garage.
Reporters rushed us, flashes exploding.
“What work do you expect will win best picture?”
“First to four million, two national records for a rookie director, you must be expecting best picture for Desirelessness!”
“What award will Desirelessness receive?”
Flashes blinded me, I could see nothing, so I shielded my eyes and hurried inside, barely thinking of Junsik behind me.
Respect for celebrities who smile under that glare shot up in me.
I waited inside the entrance; Junsik followed, now radiating a heavy aura.
Even under the flashes he did not frown, just offered a faint smile, no trace of strain.
“Park Junsik, do you think you can win best actor on your debut? Or maybe newcomer?”
He answered nothing, simply let them shoot and walked over to me.
Only after we closed the doors did we both exhale.
“Chanhyeon, my vision is blurry, is that normal?”
“Huh?”
Staring into the flashes had clouded his sight. The weighty man vanished and the Junsik I knew returned.
“The photos will look good, ha ha.”
“Will it clear up?”
“You are quite the celebrity now. How did you stand that?”
“I thought I would die, maybe my corneas burned.”
“Actors must have three corneas then. Give it a minute.”
“Yeah…”
He stayed close, hands trembling slightly.
It was my first festival too, but after what Junseong said my excitement had drained away.
He would not have spoken without reason.
Inside the hall many were already seated.
Most were seniors, so we bowed as we passed.
“Look, there is Gyeong Chanhyeon. Tsk tsk.”
“He has the nerve to show up? Ruining the industry but still wanting awards.”
“So greedy, sigh…”
They spoke loud enough for me to hear.
They were established directors, some who marketed Hollywood rip-offs as Korean originals.
“Shall we sit there?”
“Sure.”
I called Junseong, and he soon arrived.
“Is there a gala after this?” Junsik asked.
“Probably, Taesan Group is hosting. Let’s skip it and take our crew elsewhere, my treat,” Junseong muttered.
“Wow, what is this generosity?”
He stared blankly at the stage, eyes empty.
Tap tap.
Someone behind me touched my shoulder: it was Kim Seunghun, one of Night’s leads.
“Hey, Seunghun.”
“Director Gyeong, long time. You are doing great. I loved Desirelessness, saw you are nominated for best picture. And this is Park Junsik, right?”
Hearing his name, Jun-sik stood and bowed deeply.
“Yes, senior Kim Seunghun, pleased to meet you.”
“I saw you on variety shows, you are quite the fan of Director Gyeong.”
He scratched his head, laughing awkwardly.
“Let’s grab a drink with Jungwoo sometime. I am freer these days.”
“Sure, let’s do that,” Junseong chimed in, forced.
Even months later, the name Jungwoo still brought the smell of cheap rum to mind.
After small talk, Seunghun leaned in to me.
“Ignore those old men behind, their trash talk is just jealousy. They bash you because they lack talent,” he whispered.
“Thanks.”
He patted my shoulder and left. MCs, one man one woman, stepped onto the stage, bowed deeply and began banter.
“This year was miraculous, a World Cup semifinal and many firsts in film.”
“Indeed, a shining year for Korean cinema.”
When their chatter grew dull, awards began, starting with technical categories.
From visual effects to cinematography, not one name from Desirelessness was called.
Our crew murmured, puzzled why none of our nominees won.
Now I understood Junseong’s earlier behavior.
When I was drifting in thought the hosts announced the last award of part one.
“Now, a brand-new award created this year, the Special Prize called…”
“The Trend Setter Award!”
I snapped awake.
“Trend Setter Award?”
I had never heard of such a prize, not in my previous life either.
Everyone seemed equally baffled.
“This honor goes to the work that set the year’s trend.”
“A truly meaningful prize, showing the film’s influence.”
Their empty words made my mind drift again.
“Who will receive the very first Trend Setter Award? Let us see the nominees.”
First nominee: Director Gyeong Chanhyeon of Desirelessness…
Hearing my name echo through the hall, I choked.
A list of nominees followed, then the winner was announced.
“The Trend Setter Award goes to Director Gyeong Chanhyeon. Congratulations!”
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