Chapter 72:
In "The Picture of Dorian Gray," Bruno had indeed seen a stage adaptation of the work before. The production had a powerful atmosphere as its strength, but its weaknesses were just as clear. He remembered feeling fatigued midway through the play due to the excessively provocative and flashy stage effects and the exaggerated acting.
But now.
He simply couldn't take his eyes off the stage.
A temporary, makeshift stage.
The small platform, just steps away from dropping into the lawn where the audience sat, looked like an entirely different world.
Upon seeing Dorian Gray,' Bruno instantly knew who it was. The moment the actor appeared on stage, shining in a wide linen shirt and leather pants, he thought he was the embodiment of Dorian Gray.
The actor, wearing a beret and coat, moving with a passive demeanor, must be the artist Basil.
And the one who walked onto the stage with a leisurely yet vain stride, dressed in a brown three-piece suit and a bowler hat, had to be Lord Henry.
Incredible.
The actors were strangers, but each one's performance was outstanding.
However, their play wouldnt have felt the same if it had ended as merely a gender-reversed version' of "The Picture of Dorian Gray."
That man.
Bruno fixated his gaze on the stage, eyes wide open.
The man was just sitting there, showing only his back.
Just sitting, yet the atmosphere was peculiar.
Bruno felt an indescribable strangeness as he watched the man, dressed in a white shirt as pale as his pants, from behind.
What role could he be playing?
When he first saw him standing in the center, he couldn't grasp it.
"Of course, you'll exhibit it, won't you? It would be a sin to let such a painting rot, Basil."
"No, no, no I have no such intention, Harry."
Basil rises from his seat. He starts walking across the stage as if mesmerized.
"There's a secret of my soul hidden here."
The man in white remained seated in the center, his back turned.
Basil carefully examines the seated man, followed by Henry, who also scrutinizes him.
Their gazes were akin to beholding a sculpture displayed in the Muse d'Orsay.
"Was sum?"
Bruno muttered to himself unintentionally.
That's when he realized it.
The man in the center was, indeed, the portrait'!
"Only now I realize this"
While Bruno lamented his belated realization
"Don't ruin Dorian Henry. It might sound strange, but my life depends on him."
And as Basil warned Henry, moving his lips
The portrait' began to move.
"The Picture of Dorian Gray" started moving slowly.
Like a flower blooming under the spring rain, the movements were elegant and meticulous.
Even those who were chatting and drinking beer fell silent, their eyes glued to the stage.
Jay, who had been watching with his mouth open, suddenly glanced at his wristwatch.
"Hey, Bruno. It's been 10 minutes already"
As Jay hesitantly spoke up, Bruno hushed him with a gesture.
With a look of reproach,
""
Jay, feeling somewhat unjustly treated, turned his head back towards the stage.
But his mood was good. He, too, wanted to see the end of this play.
"How can this be"
Basil, upon discovering his painting, staggers in shock.
The portrait' turns its head.
Basil, whose eyes meet those of the portrait', shakes his head wildly.
"No This isn't what I painted."
Trembling with fear, Basil watches as the portrait' slowly turns around.
"Basil."
A voice as soothing as comforting a child.
The audience, hearing that enchanting voice for the first time, held their breath.
"It's true. You did paint it. I am your creation. The soul of the beautiful Dorian Gray' you love."
The portrait' speaks as if in a dream.
So beautiful was the sight, Bruno found himself unwittingly opening his mouth in awe.
"I must pray"
As Basil kneels to pray, the portrait's' face grotesquely contorts.
The corners of the mouth curl up, revealing teeth between the red lips. The eyes shine fiercely.
It was a smile.
"That?"
Can that be called a smile'?
If something so chilling is a smile,' isn't there something wrong?
Despite a physiological repulsion, Bruno couldn't tear his eyes away from it.
The play continued.
Dorian, having lived a life of decadent decay, heads to the countryside.
He vows to live a righteous life. The portrait,' watching Dorian, laughs breathlessly.
"Ha!"
And then the laughter stops abruptly.
The portrait's' eyes turn cold in an instant.
It mimics every action of Dorian.
In a grotesquely twisted posture that seems suffocating just to look at.
It's impossible. How can the body be used like that?'
Even while moving in such a posture, the portrait' looked as if it was having fun. A pure yet sinister smile emerges on its face.
If the face of a boy possessed by a demon existed it would look just like that.
Dorian Gray, believing his soul to be redeemed, slowly approaches his painting.
Seeing this, Bruno, along with the audience, clasps their hands together.
Hoping, wishing they wouldn't see.
But contrary to the audience's wishes, Dorian eventually opens the door. And he comes face to face with his portrait.'
"Ah."
Bruno's eyes widen in shock, his lips bitten.
The moment Dorian confronts his portrait' again.
Joy appears on the portrait's' face.
""
The watching audience, unknowingly, recoils.
Bruno clenched his arms tightly. His whole body was covered in goosebumps.
Dorian Gray, holding a knife, stabs his own portrait.'
Even at that moment, the portrait' was smiling. Confronted by that smile, Dorian trembles and, instead, collapses spewing blood.
The portrait' watches Dorian's life fade away until the end. Anger, ecstasy, and joy pass over its face in turn.
Like layers of an onion being peeled away, continually revealing new surfaces.
And at the end, only an empty smile remains.
"This is our' soul, Dorian."
With those final, scraping words, the portrait's' eyes flicker and then slowly dim.
* * *
The play ends.
The actors lying on the stage slowly rise.
Only then do the audience, as if awakening from a spell, begin to applaud.
Bruno jumps up and claps passionately. He could feel the large camera zooming in on him from afar, but that was not the time to care about such things.
If there was one regret, it was just one.
Having to alternate his gaze between the subtitles and the actors meant he had to take his eyes off their performance every few seconds.
"It would have been perfect if I understood Korean."
Jay, instead of responding aloud, simply nodded his head. He too was resonating with Bruno's statement with his whole body.
The middle-aged actors who filled the stage possessed astonishing energy. Their performances, elegant yet passionate, were so intense that they were hard to capture in the word impressive.'
But there was something even more intriguing.
"Jay, who is that actor?"
As the curtain call was drawing to a close, Bruno grabbed his friend and asked urgently.
His fingertips were pointing towards the stage.
More precisely, towards the white-clad man standing in the center.
"I don't know"
"Lies! Is there a Korean actor you don't know?"
"Bruno, I'm just a fan of Love A, not an encyclopedia of all Korean entertainers!"
Yet, even as Jay said that, he looked regretful.
After that day, Bruno found himself plunged into a mystery.
It was a mystery brought by an unnamed Eastern actor.
* * *
"Ah, I'm dying"
The three middle-aged actors who had just finished their performance were panting and sitting on the floor. Sweat soaked their foreheads and necks.
They seemed too drained even to change out of their stage costumes, their faces blank.
"Here, drink some water, senior."
"Ah thanks."
"Thank you, Yooil."
They barely managed to receive the water bottles and chocolate bars handed to them by Han Yooil.
Yoon Seula looked at her own arms trembling weakly like thin branches and chuckled.
It was a performance that left no energy even to unwrap a chocolate bar. She looked at the chocolate wrapped in golden foil and muttered.
"It's been a while since I acted this much."
"Right? Me too. I'm completely drained."
Unnie~! Me too.
Moon Yuhwa and Um Jiyoung joined in with the sentiment.
They hadn't been on the theater stage much since their younger days, but that didn't mean they had been completely detached from acting.
Even so, the memory of acting with such all-out effort was distant.
"Honestly, I thought it was a bit of a stretch at first."
The actors, each lost in thought, turned their heads at Yoon Seula's comment.
"I thought it was an impossible luxury."
They all knew what Yoon Seula meant without further explanation.
It was after the official rehearsals began that Yoon Seula realized Han Yooil's confidence was not just for show.
How about Basil and the portrait' have a dialogue face to face?
Ah, then I will follow your lead in this part.
The quality, achieved in such a short time, was unbelievable.
Yooil, when did you manage to put all this together?
Yoon Seula's question made Yooil ponder briefly before answering.
Just whenever I had time, I thought about it. Because I wanted to be on stage with the seniors.
The three actors turned their gaze as if on cue.
Um Jiyoung, watching Yooil distribute snacks he had bought for the production team, murmured quietly.
"Now I see why he's popular."
Moon Yuhwa added quietly.
"If I were just twenty years younger"
"Unnie, are you crazy? Stop talking nonsense!"
"Jihyuk, please edit this out. You got that?"
Moon Yuhwa playfully made a cutting gesture with her hand, but the moment she saw the producer's broadly grinning face, she knew it would never be edited out.
* * *
"Wow, that was some good sleep."
Woken by the in-flight announcement about seatbelts, Yooil rubbed his eyes and looked down at the approaching ground.
Heart rate normal. Body temperature normal. Oxygen saturation normal. A very stable condition.
Thanks to the big bowl of bibimbap the three senior actors insisted on feeding him the night before, Yooil still felt full.
As he fumbled in his pocket to take out his phone, his hand touched a Polaroid photo. It was a picture of him with Philippe Sciamma, Amy Baumbeck, and David.
This must be from the after-party.'
The short period had been unbelievably fulfilling.
The moments on the red carpet, the casual shoots, and standing on the open stage of the theater shone more vividly than the flashes from the cameras.
It wasn't beyond the expected range.
Brion might say so.
But I didn't know it would be this much fun.'
Frankly, it was more enjoyable than the reward vacation to Vietnam.
Because while acting, no worries could trouble him.
"Director!"
As soon as he got off the plane, Yooil was met by Director Jang Jaeyi who had come to the airport to pick him up. Upon seeing Yooil, Director Jang immediately said,
"We have a place to go, Yooil!"
Instead of explaining further, he started leading Yooil somewhere.
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