“Those few scraps of paper in the cart represent the old man’s will to live for tomorrow.”
At his words, Nam Yiwon fell silent. Seeing his lips pressed shut and his eyebrows settling into a placid line, Seungjun felt a fleeting surge of happiness. He felt a sense of satisfaction as he watched Nam Yiwon struggle to find a counterargument.
“It’s the lonely death of an old man who lived diligently, always looking forward to the next day.”
This approach aligned perfectly with Nam Yiwon’s logic that a terrible event should be depicted terribly, yet it avoided any unnecessary cruelty. After gazing at him for a long moment, Nam Yiwon finally spoke.
“I see. That would be more interesting.”
Seungjun let out a hollow laugh. To relentlessly seek out what was ‘interesting’ even in this situation, he was, in a way, truly remarkable.
Feeling somewhat relieved, Seungjun was just about to step forward, having glanced up at the second floor. Nam Yiwon abruptly blocked his path. Not content with merely standing in his way, he grasped Seungjun’s shoulder with a slight but firm pressure.
Seungjun’s eyebrows twitched. He lifted his eyes to glare, but Nam Yiwon didn’t back down.
“How about this: the kid picks up scraps of paper to cover themselves, to hide. Then you wouldn’t need to climb up there to shoot, right?”
As he had done throughout their entire interaction, Nam Yiwon simply prattled on. The weight on his shoulder was irritating. So were the condescending gaze, the large frame brazenly blocking his way, and even that damned scarf. Seungjun swatted away the hand on his shoulder and sighed.
“A kid covering themselves with paper to hide? Why not just tell them to build a house out of paper while they’re at it?”
“Kids play hide-and-seek; they might do something like that.”
“Are elementary schoolers idiots? Move.”
Even though he could have easily stepped around him, Seungjun jutted his chin at Nam Yiwon. Despite surely understanding the command to step aside, Nam Yiwon remained motionless. If it had been mere annoyance at an uncooperative opponent, Seungjun might have generously dismissed it as a spoiled young master throwing a tantrum. Instead, the gleam of excitement in Nam Yiwon’s eyes was utterly infuriating.
Nam Yiwon took a step closer, then whispered softly, as if worried someone might overhear.
“My suggestion can convey all the messages you want, Senior, so is there some other reason you’re so insistent on inviting danger?”
The sigh Seungjun had been holding back escaped as a groan. He couldn’t tolerate it any longer. Seungjun shoved Nam Yiwon’s shoulder with a resounding thud and snarled.
“You’re the one being stubborn, just to get one over on me!”
“Me?”
“You know my idea is better, admit it.”
The words, spat out through gritted teeth, landed with heavy finality. Perhaps from accumulated frustration, his voice was rough and hoarse. Shoved back, Nam Yiwon remained standing with one hip jutted out, slowly raising his eyelids.
For a while, he simply stared intently at Seungjun. It wasn’t a battle of wills; he literally observed Seungjun from various angles, slowly tilting his head as if studying something novel.
After a long moment, Nam Yiwon gracefully stepped backward. Then, with his hands clasped behind his back, he smiled, as if to signal he would interfere no further. Seungjun strode purposefully towards the second floor, glaring straight ahead. Even though the fellow had quietly retreated, Seungjun felt no sense of relief whatsoever.
‘He should never have gotten involved with him in the first place.’
Seungjun looked down at the second-floor railing. Now that he was up there, he realized the railing was surprisingly low, barely reaching his knees. Cautiously, he went to the corner and examined the side, revealing an even narrower gap. It seemed too tight to even squeeze his calf into.
As he assessed the surroundings, trying to figure out the best angle for the shot, Nam Yiwon, still with hands clasped behind his back, came into view, looking up at him.
‘Let’s just get this over with. This ridiculous endeavor is finally nearing its end.’ Gritting his teeth, Seungjun swung one leg over the narrow railing.
“Jiseo, just squat there for a bit! Tell me if your legs hurt.”
“Okay!”
After coaxing the child, who must have been exhausted from acting for several hours, Seungjun sat on the railing and tried to find the right posture. He dangled one leg outside and leaned his upper body as far to the side as possible, but the desired shot wasn’t materializing.
Gripping the stone railing tightly with his thighs, he slowly shifted his hips, inching further inward. It wasn’t easy to wedge his considerable 187-centimeter frame into the dusty corner, but the view of the cart and the child from this vantage point was exactly what he wanted. Despite the sunny day, the cart lay half-shrouded in shadow. Scraps of paper were visible in the sunlit portion, and behind the cart sat the child.
‘An old man, alienated and dying alone in the shadows.’
The situation, with children playing hide-and-seek, suddenly struck him as deeply ironic. People who weren’t hiding but remained unseen—these marginalized neighbors—were dying in this very spot. And now, a child had come here to hide, perfectly blending with the old man who would never be found. Seungjun raised his left elbow and rested the camera lens upon it.
‘Hide-and-seek and lonely death. Had Nam Yiwon, who had spouted forth a stream of sudden ideas, intended this irony? Or had his impromptu suggestion simply fallen into place by chance? Perhaps it was just luck.’
‘What was
“Gah.”
The moment his concentration broke, his balance wavered, and his upper body lurched precariously. Seungjun gasped, instinctively reaching out for the railing. The camera, having slipped from his grip, dangled wildly from his neck strap. Unconsciously, he tried to protect the camera first, causing his body to tilt sharply.
‘No! His heart plummeted the instant he realized his mistake, and his vision spun upside down.’ His fingertips, heated by the camera’s warmth, scraped uselessly against the stone railing as he fell.
With a resounding thud, dust billowed up. The child’s scream echoed.
****
Ruptured knee joint due to a fall.
“Haaah…”
Seungjun rubbed his cheeks until they ached, performing a dry wash. It wasn’t even that high of a fall, yet his already weak knee had been struck squarely by a sharp edge of the cart. He’d had terrible luck. He’d even ended up needing artificial joint surgery, and no matter how much he thought about it, it still didn’t feel real.
He’d always thought he had a normal college life, but now he was hospitalized after falling from the second floor while preparing for a competition. He’d broken the cart when he fell and even made the children helping with the shoot cry, so it was truly a foolish stunt he’d remember for a long, long time.
Despite being in agonizing pain, he was told he had to start moving the very next day, so he’d spent a long time outside, hobbling around on crutches before returning. Having been on the move since morning, his entire body was sticky with sweat. Utterly exhausted, he collapsed onto the bed.
“I can’t believe this, seriously.”
“Why did I have to get so ambitious with this competition and end up like this? Could my luck really be this bad?” Seungjun picked up his phone, a self-deprecating smile on his lips. As he scrolled through his messages, Seungjun grimaced, spotting the name of someone he absolutely did not want to deal with. It was a message Nam Yiwon had sent that morning.
[Today]
[Senior, I’ll visit you at the hospital today]
[10:21 AM]
[Is there anything you want to eat?]
[10:22 AM]
Contemplating whether to reply, even belatedly, Seungjun closed the message window. He didn’t want to think about Nam Yiwon. ‘He’d probably just show up for a “visit,” grinning smugly and asking, ‘Didn’t I tell you it was dangerous?’
‘No. I should tell him not to come.’ Having to display his sweaty, struggling self, already in pain from joint surgery, was even more stressful than the physical therapy itself.
“Baek Seungjun, are you alright?”
As he pondered how to refuse, his classmates burst in noisily, laden with vitamin drinks and a fruit basket. They’d been chattering in the group chat about visiting, and here they were, showing up unannounced without even notifying the patient of their arrival time. Seungjun nodded apologetically to the other patients in the room and put a finger to his lips.
“You bastards, keep it down. Am I the only one using this room?”
“Congrats on your military exemption?”
“Yeah, Seungjun. Look on the bright side, since you’re already broken.”
Their words were a mix of insults and comfort, but having hobbled around alone all morning, Seungjun was simply glad for the company. He pulled out bottles of juice that Seungji had stocked up on and handed one to each of his friends. A classmate accepted a juice, clicking their tongue.
“Why are you going so overboard for a competition like this? You’re going to win anyway, so why not just do it half-heartedly?”
“What nonsense are you talking about?”
Seungjun replied indifferently as he twisted open the bottle. Now that he thought about it, unlike the screenplay competition, he hadn’t once thought about winning an award while preparing for this one. Looking back, it seemed he was less interested in winning an award and more intent on creating a piece that Nam Yiwon would have no choice but to acknowledge.
‘Why was that?’ As he pondered, a peculiar feeling settled over him. As if reading Seungjun’s muddled thoughts, his classmate brought up Nam Yiwon’s name.
“It’s Nam Yiwon, right? Didn’t he win an award at that screenplay competition, or some other writer’s competition? For a lesser-known competition like this, it’s a guaranteed win for him.”
“Hey, Seungjun. You know he won the Excellence Award, right?”
Seungjun didn’t answer, bringing the mouth of the juice bottle to his lips.
The competition hosted by HBN. The Excellence Award for
Nam Yiwon.
“They said they gave him the Excellence Award because even they felt a bit guilty about giving him the Grand Prize. Isn’t that transparent?”
The voices of his classmates were drowned out by the gurgling sound of juice going down his throat. Seungjun emptied the bottle in one gulp and let out a deep breath.
Even after quenching his thirst and taking a deep breath, he felt a stifling pressure, as if something was blocked. His phone, clutched in his hand, vibrated, and a short breath escaped his lips. Two newly arrived messages brightly lit up the phone screen.
[Senior^^ How are you feeling?]
[I’ll be there soon~]