Chapter: 51
What kind of person is Hong Jeong-hee?
Honestly, Seoyeon found her hard to comprehend.
A human pushed to extreme lengths for affection towards others.
In her past life, she was someone who couldn’t understand emotions and had never known love.
In this lifetime, she has only received proper love and knows nothing of twisted affection.
Because the notion of love for others was so foreign to Seoyeon, she couldn’t understand why Hong Jeong-hee was so obsessed with Bae Seong-hak.
She compensated for that understanding through Pyo Ji-woo’s performance.
The feelings she had once harbored for Min Seo-ho.
Feelings so intense she nearly wanted to kill him when he betrayed her.
It was like watching an old black-and-white television.
As if viewing a silent film.
Seoyeon scrutinized each moment carefully.
There were indeed things she could grasp despite not fully understanding them.
Affection.
Once you embrace it, it’s said that letting go becomes quite a challenge.
Suddenly, Seoyeon recalled her past life.
Come to think of it, her own parents were much the same.
Twisted, pushy.
Even in their suffering, they never let go of her.
Obsession.
From parents to lovers.
Seoyeon glanced at them once more, letting her body, lips, and face respond to the emotions.
“You’re too greedy,” Shim Cheong-seok remarked during their character analysis discussion.
“No one is a perfect human.”
Thus, the interpretation of a character varies from person to person.
“The role you’re playing is ultimately just another flawed human.”
A person broken by their craving for others’ affection.
“So a healthy portrayal of love is just not on the cards.”
Therefore, if you act, the audience will inevitably be deceived.
Shim Cheong-seok said that, and Seoyeon knew it all too well.
She expressed the intensity of Hong Jeong-hee she had felt.
Inferiority, despair, jealousy, obsession, affection.
She listed those complex feelings and prioritized them.
And the first emotion she centered on was…
“…If something is wrong, it must be corrected.”
Obsession.
“Think back, when did Oppa change? When and where did it happen? What did he do?”
Under dim lighting, Hong Jeong-hee’s monologue began.
Her movements creaked like a marionette.
“Fan meeting on February 22nd. An event in Gwangju on the 27th. No contact during practice in March.”
Her bent back, long black hair cascading down and covering her face.
Through the strands of hair, her eyes moved, locking onto the audience.
“In April, I visited… a facility for volunteer work.”
Red eyes.
Eyes red with mixed emotions.
Although she couldn’t see clearly, those eyes reached the audience more vividly than anything else.
Not a single breath could be heard.
The unsettling feeling about Hong Jeong-hee, who knew Bae Seong-hak’s schedule inside and out.
That bizarre obsession was now unmistakably established in the audience’s minds.
“Why is she going this far?”
That’s probably what everyone was thinking.
The answer was simple.
Her obsession with Bae Seong-hak drives her actions.
Slowly.
With a languid stride.
Stomp, stomp.
Hong Jeong-hee’s feet moved across the stage.
“I need to find him.”
Leaning slightly towards the audience, as if searching for someone.
“Must.”
Those who made eye contact with Hong Jeong-hee froze, unable to utter a word.
Just then, Hong Jeong-hee’s body turned away from the audience.
As the tension that had been suffocating the surroundings briefly dispersed,
Hong Jeong-hee spun around and charged towards the audience.
“!!”
In an instant, the audience jumped in shock, as if Hong Jeong-hee was dashing towards them.
No! It felt like her face was mere inches away.
However, Hong Jeong-hee’s feet never left the stage.
At the edge.
“It’s you.”
Perched precariously at the edge of the stage, Hong Jeong-hee looked at the audience and uttered,
“Yeah, it was you.”
As the lights dimmed further.
“It was you, Song Min-seo.”
As complete darkness engulfed the view, the audience finally exhaled in relief.
Overwhelmed by Hong Jeong-hee’s presence, they shivered.
“They’re fully utilizing the stage.”
Bae Jin-hwan’s hand itched to jot everything down.
He was taking meticulous notes on this spectacle.
He could feel an involuntary smile blooming on his lips.
‘This can’t be the end, right? Joo Su-yeon.’
He longed to see her next performance as soon as possible.
That sentiment likely wasn’t exclusive to Bae Jin-hwan.
Hong Jeong-hee’s role was, after all, that of a villain.
The antagonist in the play.
This villain was captivating the entire performance.
“Yet, as a production, this isn’t ideal.”
When the lead doesn’t feel like a lead, the impression of the play falters.
What will the audience say after watching today’s performance?
“That villain was outstanding, the play? It was just okay.”
Without a doubt, they would think so.
And that does not bode well for either the actors or the production.
“Indeed.”
What to do?
Will everything end with Joo Su-yeon leading the play?
Bae Jin-hwan watched the unfolding Act 3 as those thoughts flowed through his mind.
The story of the two men and women entwining in a heartfelt saga.
The lead, Bae Seong-hak, and Song Min-seo‘s story began to surface.
In between, a nameless figure passed by without a line.
Hong Jeong-hee.
At each of those moments, the audience held their breath, watching to see what Hong Jeong-hee might do.
And then Act 4.
The moment when Hong Jeong-hee stepped forward, clashing with Bae Seong-hak.
Joo Su-yeon and Shim Cheong-seok.
When the performances of Shim Cheong-seok and Joo Su-yeon collided head-on.
“Are you out of your mind?!”
Bae Seong-hak’s shout cleaved the stage in two.
His performance, which had seemed fine while with Song Min-seo, was entirely different then.
The sharp emotions suddenly struck like a bolt.
Those familiar with acting recalled the moment when Bae Seong-hak encountered Hong Jeong-hee.
In that instant, his acting shifted.
‘Is this… true skill?’
‘It’s about adjusting the tone based on the actor.’
He looked at Shim Cheong-seok with newfound respect.
But Shim Cheong-seok couldn’t care less about that.
Joo Su-yeon.
Beneath his face, hidden from the stage, a wild smile crept up.
‘There’s no way I’m backing down to a rookie who’s only just taken their first steps.’
That smile seemed to exude such feelings.
Idol Bae Seong-hak.
A role that originally seemed mismatched for him.
However.
His aura shifted completely.
From a gentle-looking idol actor, Bae Seong-hak transformed.
“Hong Jeong-hee. Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice? Why have you become so close, Oppa? Why are you looking at me like that?!”
After the performance concluded, Bae Seong-hak felt a strange unease.
Song Min-seo, with whom he had agreed to meet post-play, was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, he recalled.
Hong Jeong-hee hadn’t been at today’s performance.
The woman who always trailed his performances.
A precious fan but recently seemed to emit a peculiar tension.
Bae Seong-hak, feeling a thick layer of murderous intent towards Song Min-seo, raced to find both her and Hong Jeong-hee.
And just in time to intervene.
“Why did you… do that to Min-seo?!”
“Min-seo?”
A subdued chuckle escaped.
Glistening eyes shimmered at Bae Seong-hak.
“When did you get so familiar, Oppa?”
Her voice was eerily calm.
There was no fluctuation.
As if emotions had been entirely erased, her voice sent chills down his spine.
All the fervent feelings Hong Jeong-hee had displayed until now vanished into thin air.
That voice.
“I’ve never been like that to you.”
Gradually intensifying.
She gripped his collar.
Shoving him against the wall.
“Why was it never like that with me?!”
Along with a scream that resembled a wail, the hand gripping Bae Seong-hak’s collar trembled violently.
“What was I missing? I’ve liked you, much longer than you can imagine.”
Tears streamed down.
She felt frustrated over what made her feel deficient.
Yet she knew.
That she hadn’t been a comfort for Bae Seong-hak.
Hong Jeong-hee had always been just a fan.
While Song Min-seo, who couldn’t hear his voice, wasn’t even a fan.
Just an ordinary man who approached him without his idol persona.
That difference.
No, it wasn’t even just that.
Hong Jeong-hee struggled to catch her breath as her words faltered.
“You aren’t missing anything.”
Veiling her tremor, Bae Seong-hak replied.
“You’ve always been an exceptional fan to me.”
So.
“Please don’t make any more mistakes. I beg you. Jeong-hee.”
A heartfelt plea laced his voice.
At those words, Hong Jeong-hee stared at him blankly.
For the first time, her idol’s plea was directed at her.
She stood there, dazed.
The audience watched in awed silence.
And among the seated audience, a woman was chewing on her thumbnail.
“… This is wrong.”
Jo Seo-hee thought, bewildered.
“What are you doing right now?”
Seo-hee’s gaze was not directed at Joo Seoyeon.
But rather at Lee Hye-jin, the actress playing Song Min-seo behind her.
She distinctly remembered reading that in the pamphlet.
Before coming, Seo-hee had skimmed through reviews and some clips of the play.
She had anticipated a significant deviation from the original production.
Yet, if Joo Seoyeon were to intervene in this, it meant something had gone awry.
Certainly, in this scene, Song Min-seo should’ve intervened between the two.
But now, Song Min-seo stood frozen, unable to break into their performance.
“Is this going to ruin the play?”
Joo Seoyeon.
Not the bright starlight she had previously seen.
Her presence now emanated darkness, sending chills through Seo-hee’s heart.
‘If I were in that position.’
Having never acted in a play before, the weight of that knowledge stung.
Yet Song Min-seo, petrified, remained still.
If this went on a bit longer, the audience would likely notice the oddity.
The ‘mistake’ made by the actors.
Then suddenly.
“Song Min-seo!!”
Hong Jeong-hee’s scream split the stage.
“Are you so confident because you think you’ve won? Why do you look at me like that?!”
Seo-hee sensed something.
‘That line was never in the script.’
An ad-lib.
Song Min-seo was originally set to be deaf.
Naturally, she wouldn’t be able to hear Hong Jeong-hee’s outburst now.
But the audience didn’t immediately realize that.
Even if they did, it would have sounded like Hong Jeong-hee’s last desperate gasp.
But Seo-hee understood.
This wasn’t directed at Song Min-seo, but at actress Lee Hye-jin.
Simultaneously, the fading presence of Hong Jeong-hee diminished further.
“Min-seo, are you okay?”
With that, Bae Seong-hak’s gaze turned towards Song Min-seo.
Incorporating sign language, he made the audience finally aware of her hearing impairment.
In a seamless flow, the previously lifeless presence of Song Min-seo burst back to life.
Suddenly and forcefully redirecting the audience’s focus to her.
“I… I’m fine,”
Lee Hye-jin, Song Min-seo managed to squeak out.
For a moment, her speech faltered and trembled, but given the context, it felt just like acting.
Song Min-seo’s abrupt emotional response cleverly masked her wobbly delivery.
Lee Hye-jin was also a trained actress.
Naturally, she knew this fact and had to redeem this blunder.
Gathering her composure.
Taking a deep breath.
“Jeong-hee.”
There were many lines to follow.
But Hye-jin felt she mustn’t extend the dialogue here.
“I’m sorry.”
Gingerly, Song Min-seo embraced Hong Jeong-hee, as if to comfort her.
“Really, I’m so sorry.”
It was forgiveness laid upon Hong Jeong-hee, who had spewed violence and accusations towards her.
Song Min-seo quietly held Hong Jeong-hee to convey that feeling.
“Sniff.”
Tears that had been dropping began to cascade.
With the mournful cries of Hong Jeong-hee, Act 4 wrapped up completely.
And that was…
Hong Jeong-hee’s last appearance in the play.
*
“Wow, so this is what a play is like. It’s insane since it’s my first time seeing one.”
“The lines in this one differ a bit from what I watched before. But it’s not bad either.”
“Is that so? But that male actor was incredibly handsome. Seriously, isn’t he an idol?”
After six acts, Eyes Closed concluded.
As the audience exited, chatting among themselves, the hottest topic on their lips was:
“That actress playing Hong Jeong-hee is indeed that Princess Yeonhwa, right?”
“Didn’t feel like it at all. I honestly felt so scared I was tempted to leave halfway!”
“Oh, for real. Still, she was a bit pitiable by the end.”
It was all about Joo Su-yeon, the actress portraying Hong Jeong-hee.
The performance she displayed was shocking to the extent that audience members found themselves frozen in the moment.
Even now, when they closed their eyes, that gripping performance vividly replayed in their minds.
“Phew.”
This was also true for Bae Jin-hwan and producer Chae Dong-jin.
Both of them were still caught in the afterglow of the production, letting out a sigh.
“… What did you think?”
The first to break the silence was producer Chae Dong-jin.
His voice held a tinge of strange anticipation.
Bae Jin-hwan related to that expectation.
“I reflected.”
“Reflected?”
Bae Jin-hwan nodded.
“Yes, a comeback after ten years. The image of Princess Yeonhwa is quite strong, which worried me a bit.”
Seoyeon, walking across the stage while facing the audience, floated to his mind.
Hong Jeong-hee wasn’t intended to be quite that intense in character.
She’s the main antagonist, but she’s more of a ‘displeasing’ character than an intense one.
“This is good. It was a refreshing interpretation.”
“That last line in Act 4 was different too, right?”
“Yeah.”
After that point, they both nodded slowly.
“You share the same sentiment, right?”
“Of course.”
Seventeen—such a young age.
At first, that threw him off, but now? That didn’t seem to matter.
“Let’s do this.”
It was the moment the villain for their upcoming film The Chaser would be decided.
But.
There was an unexpected hiccup.
“… What? Joo Su-yeon doesn’t have an agency right now?”
“?”
Handing over the script to Seoyeon and preparing to make contact, the two found themselves facing an unforeseen obstacle.
In truth, there was no way to reach her.
As Bae Jin-hwan and Chae Dong-jin furrowed their brows in despair over that predicament,
Meanwhile, the subject of their concern, Joo Seoyeon, was…
“…”
After the play, at the gathering.
Two figures slipped into the scene.
“… Tsk.”
“Hmm.”
Park Jung-woo and Jo Seo-hee.
Caught in between them, Joo Seoyeon observed quietly.
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