I stood there, feeling the warmth of the evening air, and watched him. He had just said, "...I'LL ALWAYS BE BY YOUR SIDE," after asking me to call on him if I ever felt lonely, or "OR NEED A SHOULDER TO LEAN ON..."
I was taken aback by how much I wanted to cry in that moment. It was unlike me. I had revealed a tiny part of my heart, yet I felt wholly understood.
"...THAT'S REASSURING TO HEAR," I managed to say, turning away, the word TURN flashing in my periphery as I hid the vulnerable smile on my face.
I didn't even have time to think about what he meant by those words, or to process the sudden rush of emotion. The moment was broken by a practical, everyday thought.
"I didn't even have time..." to react properly. The next panel was the title card: MUSE ON FAME. // BEER!
We must have moved inside. I was looking into the refrigerator, surveying the contents. I saw a multitude of green cans stacked neatly. The label on them read "PERRA."
"THIS IS ALL I HAVE IN MY FRIDGE..." I called out. Then, turning back to him, I asked, "DO... YOU WANT A BEER?"
He was seated on the sofa, a figure in black against the muted background.
"I'M ALRIGHT," he replied.
A small, slightly strained smile came to my face as I scratched my head. "THAT'S RIGHT, YOU HAVE TO DRIVE."
I paused, looking away with a thoughtful, almost regretful glance. "I SHOULD GET SOME JUICE NEXT TIME..." I murmured to myself. I really shouldn't have been relying on a fridge full of just beer.
We sat on the sofa, a can of beer and a glass of water resting on the coffee table between us. I took a slow sip of the beer. "BEING ALONE IN THE HOUSE AT THIS HOUR, JUST US TWO... ...SUDDENLY FEELS REALLY AWKWARD..." I thought, feeling a nervous sweat bead on my brow.
We were watching an ad on TV. It was one of those overly dramatic action spots showing a hooded figure with two swords strapped to his back.
"...THIS AD'S AWFULLY LONG..." I commented, just to break the silence.
"YES," the man replied, his tone neutral.
The Question of Age
We settled into another moment of quiet. I took another sip of my beer, and then, feeling a sudden curiosity, I looked at him.
"BY THE WAY, HOW OLD ARE YOU, MANAGER EUN?" I asked.
His eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush rose on his cheeks as he covered his mouth with his hand. He looked genuinely surprised, as if no one had ever asked him that.
"I'M 25," he stated.
"Wow, I did think you looked youthful, but you're actually pretty young," I replied. His embarrassment seemed clear. "HE SEEMS SO EMBARRASSED..." I thought to myself, taking another sip.
"I... DON'T THINK I'M THAT MUCH YOUNGER THAN YOU," he countered.
I let out a soft chuckle as I drank from the can. "OF COURSE YOU ARE. I FEEL SO FAR REMOVED FROM WHEN I WAS 25."
Then, I grew reflective.
On Being 25
"THEN... CAN I ASK WHAT BEING 25 WAS LIKE FOR YOU?" I asked, my gaze soft.
"OH... FOR ME?" I remembered.
I thought back to that year. I graduated from college, and spent a year going to auditions. I'm Myeong Yu, and I'm 25, I used to say. It was a time of immense uncertainty and hustle.
The scene flashed into my mind: a crowded audition room. Two men looked at the panel I was addressing.
"YOU GOT A BOYFRIEND?" one of the male judges—a man in a bucket hat—bluntly asked.
I was stunned. "...EXCUSE ME?"
The memory hung in the air, a stark reminder of the often harsh realities of the industry. The question of my past was more complex than he probably realized.
The memory of the audition was a familiar pain, but not the only one. The journey was filled with compromises.
"YOU'LL GET THE JOB IF YOU CAN TAKE IT ALL OFF," the voice had said.
I forced a weak, nervous smile and rubbed my chest, feeling a wave of discomfort. "OH... I DON'T FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH NUDITY..."
So, the minor roles it was.
"MAYBE I WASN'T DESPERATE ENOUGH, OR I WAS TOO PICKY WITH MY ROLES. IN THE END, I WAS LEFT WITH MINOR ROLES."
One day, I actually got a role with lines.
"WOW, I GOT CAST AS THE FRIEND!" I exclaimed, genuinely thrilled.
It wasn't much, but back then, I thought every small step was progress. I acted in an indie movie, made a short film with Hyeonjae... BACK THEN, I THOUGHT I COULD CONTINUE AND KEEP GROWING. I was happy with what I had.
"NEXT TIME, I'LL BE ABLE TO BOOK A ROLE WITH A NAME, RIGHT?" I asked him, leaning into him for a kiss.
"OF COURSE, MYEONG," he had assured me.
But the reality was a slow, grinding decline. I found myself in a different uniform, a blue apron over my clothes, pulling on pink rubber gloves. The text overlaid my image: ...THAT'S HOW IT WAS FOR ONE YEAR, THEN TWO YEARS, THEN MORE... BUT I REMAINED AN UNKNOWN ACTOR.
I looked at Manager Eun, a wry smile on my face. "AT 25, I HAD NO IDEA... ...THAT I'D BARELY START TAKING MY FIRST STEPS AT THE END OF MY 20S."
Manager Eun's gaze was serious and empathetic. He understood the weight of my words.
"IT MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN THAT LONG, BUT WAS REALLY TOUGH AT THE TIME," I admitted, recalling the despair. "I COULDN'T SEE THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL."
I faced him, my expression earnest. "I DON'T KNOW HOW THINGS WILL TURN OUT IN THE FUTURE... ...BUT I HOPE I CAN KEEP GROWING THROUGH THIS DRAMA."
Manager Eun responded with a confident look in his eyes, his voice firm. "I WANT TO BE ABLE TO SAY CONFIDENTLY THAT I'M AN ACTOR... OR BETTER YET, BECOME FAMOUS ENOUGH THAT I DON'T NEED AN INTRODUCTION."
We both shared the same ambition, spoken aloud. It hung between us, a mutual, fragile hope.
blushed, holding the can of Perra beer and looking at Manager Eun. "WHOOPS, I ENDED UP GOING ON ABOUT MY ASPIRATIONS... HAHA..."
He looked back at me, his expression softening as he glanced at the beer I was holding. He understood this moment was a milestone, a new beginning.
"...I THINK A DAY LIKE THIS CALLS FOR A CHEERS," he said. "I'LL DRINK WITH YOU."
My eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. I watched him as he picked up a can of Perra. He gave the can a sharp twist with his fingers—CHRK—popping the tab open. He was not driving now, and he was choosing to celebrate this moment with me.
Manager Eun, holding his own beer can, looked at mine. I raised my can as well. "BEER," I said, a smile breaking on my face as our cans met with a resounding CLINK.
The Simple Joy of Beer
The memory flashed back to a night with my former partner, Hyeonjae. I was leaning on his shoulder, warm and comfortable in a light purple hoodie.
"ONE DAY, I'LL BE ON TV," I had declared with confidence. "THEN WE CAN HAVE A BEER TOGETHER."
"WHY BEER, OF ALL THINGS?" he had asked, smiling down at me.
I looked up at him, explaining my reasoning. "SOJU FEELS A LITTLE SAD... ...AND WINE FEELS RESERVED FOR MORE SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE."
I brightened, tapping my finger in the air. "BEER IS JUST RIGHT!"
He chuckled, pulling me close. "HEHE, YOU GOT ME!"
Then he teased, "YOU'RE JUST CRAVING CHICKEN AND BEER RIGHT NOW, HUH?"
He didn't wait for an answer, taking a long, satisfying gulp from his can, the sound of him drinking filling the air. It was a perfect, simple, happy memory of the life I'd envisioned—a life of simple, earned celebrations.
As I took a drink of my beer in the present, I felt the truth of that past moment. Beer was just right. It was a toast to the unknown future, a simple celebration of still being in the fight.
As Manager Eun and I drank our beer, the muted television played a light, romantic drama titled "THE WORKING GIRL AND THE SALARYMAN." Soft, romantic lyrics danced across the screen in my mind, "walking walking walking to you~... waiting waiting waiting for you~... loving loving loving you girl~..."
The actors' faces filled the screen: HAEDO KANG, a woman with a serious, intellectual look, and then LILY, a bright-eyed, cheerful girl. Finally, my own face, MYEONG YU, appeared on a bright, glittering background in the ad.
Manager Eun was drinking deeply from his can, a small bead of sweat on his neck, his eyes lowered. I took my own quiet, slow sip, chewing softly on the aluminum rim. CHEW.
A realization washed over me. A DREAM CAME TRUE TODAY... ...BUT NOT IN THE WAY I'D DREAMT OF.
I was indeed having a beer with someone as I saw myself on TV. "I'M KEEPING AN OLD PROMISE, BUT WITH SOMEONE NEW."
I closed my eyes for a moment, a memory flashing into my mind: me and Hyeonjae, holding hands, head leaned on his shoulder. "NOW THAT PROMISE HAS BECOME MY OWN LONGING... ...BURIED IN MY MEMORY."
I looked at Manager Eun and then down at the can in my hand. EXPECTATIONS AND REALITY ARE ALWAYS A LITTLE BIT DIFFERENT.
I was on TV, but not as the lead in a drama. I was in an advertisement. I was having a beer to celebrate a small step, not a massive breakthrough.
I sat there, holding my beer, with Manager Eun quietly beside me. We were two actors in a quiet room, sharing a simple moment of connection amidst the messy reality of pursuing a dream.
I took another long sip of my beer, watching Manager Eun. The air in the room, which had been thick with our shared ambitions, suddenly shifted. The silence became too heavy, too intimate.
"BUT I'LL CONTINUE... ...TO DREAM OF A BETTER FUTURE." The thought provided a flicker of resolve, but even that felt weak in the awkward atmosphere. I was still recovering from the bittersweet moment of seeing myself in the ad, a small victory that felt like a compromise.
Suddenly, Manager Eun stretched out a hand and yawned. "YAWWWN."
I watched his casual movement, thinking, "AWKWARD MAN..." But then, his head tipped over.
THUD
I flinched. "?!"
Manager Eun had slumped over and fallen asleep, his head resting in my lap. I looked down at his face—a deep blush was spread across his pale cheeks, his breathing slow and even. Zzz.
"M-MANAGER EUN???" I whispered, my voice laced with panic. "HELLO???"
I saw him lying there, peaceful, and the stark reality hit me.
"...HE FELL ASLEEP..."
I was completely flustered. I hadn't moved. I didn't dare. He was simply too heavy, and the situation was too sudden.
"I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THIS... ...WAS THIS BAD...?" I thought, a desperate sweat breaking out on my forehead. We were alone, and now he was asleep in my lap.
Then, a sudden, urgent thought cut through my panic. ACK. I AM GOING TO BE LATE!
My stiffness turned to a jolt of alarm. I realized I was still technically on the clock, or at least had somewhere else I needed to be. The panic returned, magnified now by the warm, sleeping weight in my lap.