Chapter 11: On the Tears of Purple Glow
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The fluorescent tubes in the corridor of the Apgujeong recording studio buzzed incessantly.
Kim Dae-won was holding forth to the cleaning lady, boasting at length that “my artist is going to beat Lee Byung-hun with his fists and kick Song Kang-ho with his feet.”
The cleaning lady could take no more. Rolling her eyes, she wheeled the trash bin away.
The glass door clicked open.
All the auditionees waiting in the corridor looked up in unison.
Assistant Director Lee poked his head through the gap in the door.
“Gru’s been cast, everyone. You can all go home.”
Someone in the crowd immediately called out,
“Excuse me, who got the part?”
“Kang Jae-hoon.”
At that, the KBS voice actor began cursing under his breath.
“Shit, Madam stole the play, and now he’s stealing voice work too?”
The new voice actor in black-rimmed glasses grabbed Assistant Director Lee by the sleeve.
“At least tell us what we lost on…”
“He can do women’s voices~”
The voice actor in the checked shirt suddenly let out a strange laugh. Pinching his voice, he imitated Kang Jae-hoon’s theatrical delivery.
“Run, my child—”
That one line instantly turned the oppressive atmosphere into something faintly absurd.
Everyone fell silent for a brief moment.
Kang Jae-hoon edged along the wall toward the exit. The instant his lower back bumped into the fire hydrant, Kim Dae-won hooked an elbow around his neck.
“What are you sneaking off for? You’re Gru now.”
“Ugh…”
Kim Dae-won tightened his hold.
“Head up, chest out! Your market value just gained another zero!”
“I still need to breathe, hyung…”
Kang Jae-hoon clung to the fire hydrant and struggled, accidentally meeting the KBS voice actor’s murderous stare.
The man raised a hand and drew it across his throat.
Kang Jae-hoon, by reflex, bowed ninety degrees. When he straightened, the back of his head collided with Kim Dae-won’s chin with a loud thunk.
“Ah, damn…”
“Mr. Kang Jae-hoon! Universal wants to…”
Kim Dae-won was about to lead Kang Jae-hoon away when Assistant Director Lee came running after them, waving a contract.
“We’ll discuss everything with SEM tomorrow!”
“…”
The exhaust hood at Seong-ho’s Fried Chicken roared as loudly as ever.
When Kang Jae-hoon arrived, Park Seong-ho’s teasing was late, but inevitable.
“Madam has arrived—”
“Seong-ho hyung, three chickens. Pack one of them without frying.”
“Did Madam win the lottery?”
Kang Jae-hoon scratched his head and gave a foolish grin.
“I passed the audition. I’m voicing Gru.”
With a toothpick hanging from his mouth, Kim Dae-won leaned against the counter and raised an eyebrow.
“Thirty percent of that success is thanks to Seong-ho’s fried chicken.”
“Only thirty percent?”
Park Seong-ho waved the skimmer and pointed at himself.
“If it weren’t for me making the connection, would he have even gotten into that studio?”
“When this kid becomes famous, he’ll endorse your shop for free.”
Kim Dae-won flicked an SEM business card onto the counter.
Park Seong-ho narrowed his eyes and tapped the card.
“So the fried chicken is on me today?”
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“What else?”
Kim Dae-won casually swiped the free kimchi from the counter.
“SEM’s top agent is personally negotiating your endorsement deal. The appearance fee alone will buy six months’ worth of your fried chicken.”
Park Seong-ho’s skimmer came down precisely on the hand Kim Dae-won was using to steal the kimchi.
“Wait. How many agents does SEM have?”
“Only one. Me.”
Kim Dae-won gave the traitorous Kang Jae-hoon a speechless look.
“I’m negotiating a project worth several billion. Don’t interrupt.”
Park Seong-ho tapped the skimmer against the back of Kim Dae-won’s hand, leaving red marks.
“Hah. SEM’s top agent has to trick people out of the price of fried chicken?”
Kim Dae-won shook his hand and hissed.
“It’s called strategic investment! Once this kid’s voice-acting fee comes in…”
“I’ll still have to pay rent…”
Kang Jae-hoon suddenly cut in, pulling a bottle of Dior Sauvage from his pocket.
“By the way, Seong-ho hyung, what does it mean when a woman gives a man perfume?”
Kim Dae-won rubbed the reddened back of his hand and sneered.
“I told you. She thinks you stink.”
“Who gave it to you? That roommate of yours?”
Park Seong-ho’s face lit up with curiosity.
“Yes.”
“Hmm…”
Park Seong-ho stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment.
“There are only three possibilities when a woman gives a man perfume. One, she thinks you stink, like Dae-won said. Two, she wants you to smell like the dog she keeps. And three…”
“What’s three?” Kang Jae-hoon asked urgently.
“She wants to leave her mark on you.”
“Her mark?”
Park Seong-ho pointed the tip of the skimmer at Kang Jae-hoon’s chest.
“You’ve seen A Chinese Odyssey, right? It’s like when Zixia left a tear in the heart of Supreme Treasure. The scent of this perfume is an invisible stamp she’s put on you.”
Kang Jae-hoon touched his chest and muttered,
“The Bible would never be this cheesy…”
“My ex-wife gave me perfume once too. Then she ran off with her personal trainer.”
Kang Jae-hoon fell silent.
That was not funny at all.
Just then, the glass door opened with a cheerful chime.
A female student saw Kang Jae-hoon and let out an excited cry.
“Wow, it really is Madam! I saw the broadcast of Macbeth! Could I take a picture with you?”
Park Seong-ho’s skimmer shot up and blocked her phone camera.
“You can take a picture only if you spend at least fifty thousand won!”
Kim Dae-won hurriedly elbowed Kang Jae-hoon.
“Get out there and promote yourself! You’re an artist whose market value just gained another zero!”
Kang Jae-hoon came to his senses and fumbled.
“What, what pose should I do?”
“Make a heart, idiot!”
Kim Dae-won forcibly bent his fingers into shape.
“Circle with the left hand, hand on your hip with the right—damn it, are you pretending to be Ultraman firing a laser?”
“…”
When Kang Jae-hoon carried the fried chicken through the door, Lee Sung-kyung was kneeling on the floor in a shower cap, organizing the refrigerator.
“Shoes.”
She did not turn her head.
“Oh.”
Kang Jae-hoon hurriedly stepped back outside and straightened his canvas shoes.
Clang—
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He set the aluminum-foil package down on the glass coffee table with a bang.
“Low-fat fried—”
“I’m not eating it.”
Kang Jae-hoon sat cross-legged on the sofa.
“There’s no oil. It was cooked in an air fryer.”
“A model eating fried chicken at night is practically suicide.”
“Just this once—”
“Do you think I’m you?”
Without turning around, she tossed an empty yogurt bottle into the recycling bin.
“I passed the audition.”
“Oh.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“What else? Should I set off fireworks?”
With a frown, Lee Sung-kyung threw a mold-covered container of kimchi from the refrigerator into a trash bag.
“The Universal producer said my voice sounds like whiskey mixed with gunpowder.”
“Cough—”
Lee Sung-kyung choked on her own saliva.
“You? Whiskey? You sound more like convenience-store soju.”
“It’s true! The contract is tomorrow… Oh, right. Sung-kyung, have you seen A Chinese Odyssey?”
“No.”
“Seong-ho hyung said that a woman giving a man perfume means the same thing as Zixia leaving a tear in Supreme Treasure’s heart.”
“Has he ever been in love?”
“He’s been divorced twice.”
“And you still believe him?”
Kang Jae-hoon absentmindedly picked at the seam of the sofa with his fingernail.
“So it really was just a promotional freebie?”
“What else?”
“Slap!”
The refrigerator door was slammed shut, and Lee Sung-kyung rose and walked into the bathroom.
Kang Jae-hoon stared at the rigid line of her shoulders for two seconds.
“Sung-kyung, you’ve definitely seen A Chinese Odyssey, haven’t you?”
“Ask again and you’ll pay rent.”
A moment later, Kang Jae-hoon took out his phone and searched for a compilation of Zixia scenes from A Chinese Odyssey, deliberately turning the volume up as high as it would go.
The hair dryer suddenly roared to life in the bathroom, perfectly drowning out the video’s line:
“My beloved is a peerless hero.”
…
Late that night.
Kang Jae-hoon was curled up under the blankets, watching Despicable Me.
A KakaoTalk message from Lee Sung-kyung suddenly appeared.
[Send me the electronic copy of your audition contract.]
[?]
[I’ll check whether it contains any sell-yourself-into-slavery clauses.]
[Oh.]
[And block Park Seong-ho’s number while you’re at it.]
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