"Entertainment World! Hello, everyone. I'm MC Jeong-i. Today, we're meeting the rookie actor who's shaking up Chungmuro and Yeouido like a god—Ha Moo-young! Nice to meet you!"
The camera panned with the MC's lively voice. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, a man with chiseled features smiling leisurely as he greeted them.
"Hello. I'm rookie actor Ha Moo-young."
"Moo-young! You must be so busy these days."
"I made time just to see you, Jeong-i."
"Oh my god! PD! If Jeong-i has a heart attack today, you better cover the workers' comp. Got it?"
The interview kicked off with lighthearted banter.
"Alright, Ha Moo-young. You've earned the nickname 'God Actor.' Do you know about it?"
"Yes, I've heard."
"Then do you know why they're calling you that?"
Moo-young gave an embarrassed smile at the MC's teasing tone. His low, pleasant voice and refined gestures left the staff inwardly amazed, unable to look away.
"I take it as praise for embodying the role well."
"Not just well—you nailed it."
— NetizenI thought he was possessed by a god.— NetizenInsane acting like he was possessed.— NetizenA rookie? No way.— NetizenHa Moo-young brought the character to life. Can't imagine anyone else. Irreplaceable. A blessing to Korean entertainment.— NetizenNothing to be surprised about. Just look at his face. Is that even human?— NetizenSeoyeondae University too. Beyond human.As the netizens' comments scrolled across the screen, Moo-young covered his face with his hand, utterly embarrassed. The cameraman capturing it all smiled warmly.
"You're the one who sparked the box office reversal legend through word of mouth. Your debut film Plague hit 4 million viewers, Streets' Sunlight racked up 7 million, and your first drama lead in You Are a Star, I Am a Star smashed 32% ratings. All this in one year? Can you believe it?!"
The MC, a former comedian, flung her cue cards in excitement—her signature move for genuine shock or awe.
"It's all thanks to good projects and good people."
"So humble! Now, let's dive in for real. Moo-young, when did you first think about becoming an actor?"
"Around high school graduation."
"Oh? What sparked it?"
Moo-young nodded calmly.
"My family situation was rough. Worse than you can imagine. One day, it got so bad I thought I couldn't go on—I'd rather die. Then someone told me: you can live a different life through acting."
His eyes sparkled under the lights, clearly recalling a not-so-distant past.
"So I started. To survive."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇Slap!
"You fucking jinx!"
Slap!
"You devil spawn!"
The air reeked of booze as the beating rained down. My lip split, blood gushing from my nose. But today, I couldn't back down.
"Say that again!"
"...I'll leave after graduation. Give me back the bank account Mom left in my name."
"Ungrateful shit!"
Slap!
The man beyond reason was my stepfather. For about five years since Mom died in the accident, he'd been living hell itself.
"Everything I spent feeding, clothing, and housing you! What now? You think I'm a pushover?"
He grabbed my collar threateningly. My head spun; I could barely stand.
"I took in the kid who killed his parents, and now you're demanding money with those glaring eyes?"
"...It was an accident."
"Wouldn't have happened without you. You bring evil spirits wherever you go. Should've never been born."
I saw what others couldn't. Not just stray ghosts, but stark supernatural phenomena. When a smog-like black shape appeared, disaster followed—Mom's death included.
"Why'd I keep you around when we don't share a drop of blood?"
He yanked my hair, shaking my head viciously. I felt like vomiting. Tinnitus rang in my ears.
"What? 'I'll leave after graduation'? Don't get cocky—prepare for your divine descent."
He'd dragged me to shamans since I was little, but they all just tilted their heads.
—He has divine energy, but it's somehow off.
—Divine energy without a god to serve.
They said change would come upon adulthood, so just watch till then. The stepfather banked on my "powers" exploding.
"No."
"What, fuck?"
"I don't want divine descent."
I resisted, prying at his hand. If I didn't break free now, he'd choke me forever—chain me to a shrine like a dog.
"Stop. Please."
"Ha! Look at this punk."
Thud!
He slammed my head against the wall, then snatched a rolling soju bottle and smashed it.
Crack!
Sharp glass glinted in the dark. Terror froze me solid.
"Mother or son, same stubborn shit. Moo-young, have I been too soft on you?"
He approached with a sick grin. A devil in human skin.
"Want me to scratch up that pretty face? So you can't go out. That'll tame you."
I recoiled instinctively, fingers brushing an ashtray. Trembling, I gripped it.
"Ah."
It appeared. Black smog slowly rose, enveloping the stepfather. Horrific, yet mesmerizing—like sulfur smoke from hell drawing him in.
"What."
He noticed my changed gaze, patting himself down.
"It's here?"
His drunken slur vanished. Once it rose, no exceptions—from accidents to death. I never knew which.
"You fuck! Is it here?!"
I nodded slightly. His face drained of color. Then excitement surged—he lunged.
"Get rid of it! Drive it out!"
As if I controlled it. I just watched. If I could, Mom wouldn't have gone that way.
"You jinx—!"
I couldn't tell what came first—did I see them because they came, or vice versa? But to the raging stepfather, it didn't matter. He roared and charged. I swung the ashtray.
Thud!
"Argh!"
Blood spurted from his nose. Barefoot, I bolted up the semi-basement stairs.
"Stop—fuck!"
"Huff—huff—"
The alley was dead silent. Feeling him chase, I couldn't stop. Fear of death overpowered the pain in my feet.
"Urk—"
I reached the nearby park, clutching a trash can and vomiting my guts—stomach acid mixed with blood. Head throbbed from the hit; dizziness overwhelmed me.
"Damn."
Couldn't steady myself. Needed to move, but not a finger twitched. Blurry vision caught the park clock—nearly midnight, my eighteenth birthday, the day to escape that house.
...Not the time to lie here.
"Kid."
Someone placed a warm hand over my eyes.
"Why are you like this here?"
A mysterious voice, gender and age ambiguous. Tears streamed unbidden.
"Oh dear. Must've been tough."
Yes. I thought I was dying. Now I really am.
"Life's so unfair. Truly tangled."
Why me? Everyone else lives normally—why not me?
"Because a god resides in your body. Ordinary fate can't contain it."
What? What god?
"Do you want to live?"
Of course.
"Even if you survive like this, your fate won't change. Still hell itself."
Isn't that too much? Fuck. What did I do wrong?
"But there is a way."
A light chuckle echoed.
"Live someone else's life instead. Borrow a life—that's the phrase."
Keep saying cryptic shit. Explain simply.
"Moo-young. Enter someone's shadow, erase your own."
That's not my name's meaning.
"This chance is your birthday gift. I believe you'll do well. Plus, you have special eyes."
That's why I'm like this.
No reply came. Only a warm touch lingered. I let go of consciousness.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇"Oh my god!"
A janitor shook me violently, face twisted in horror.
"What're you doing dressed like this? Need an ambulance!"
My head pounded, but I was okay-ish. Same park, bloodstained clothes, stinging wounds—all intact.
"Who beat you? Call the cops?"
"...What time is it?"
"Just past six. Here, put this on. Cover up too."
She gave me her jacket and newspaper. Snow piled around—miracle I survived.
"Eek! Hanbit Park!"
I glanced at the rustling paper. Mind foggy, but one line jumped out. Famous actor interview.
📰 InterviewThe Charm of Acting? Borrowing a Character's Life—"No, Hanbit Park in Surang-dong! What? Already dispatched? I just called!"
📰 Actor Quote"A chance to live someone else's life. When reality sucks, I act. Merging with the character, I slip into their life and erase myself."An electric jolt surged through me. Identical to the mystery voice.
I shot up, returning her jacket.
"Kid? You okay?"
"Thanks for waking me."
"Hey! Wait!"
Barefoot didn't matter. He'd be passed out drunk. Time to grab my stuff and bolt—anywhere. Escape and live.
Act.
"Huff—huff—"
To escape this hellish life—
Act—!
My heart pounded as I ran. I'd found the path. To save pathetic me, Ha Moo-young.
"We'll control the area. Stay back."
Home alley swarmed with cop cars and locals. They parted, recoiling at my state.
"What happened to him?"
"Obvious. Passed out drunk."
"Was freezing last night. Snow too."
"Collapsed like that. Tsk tsk."
"Nose smashed. Tripped?"
"Ambulance was overkill."
Through the murmurs, a familiar face sprawled stiff. Cops draped a white sheet over my stepfather's corpse.
"Kid?"
Dazed, I stepped forward. The shamans were right—adulthood brought change.
What's that?
Beyond his death, a strange phenomenon caught my eye. Iridescent flower pollen danced around the body. Opposite of black smog.
Fortune. Instinct told me what it heralded. The stepfather's death—my first stroke of luck.
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