Aura of a Genius Actor

"Yeah."

{How? You barely had any presence back then. People would've had trouble even noticing you.}

"It was when I was around thirty. I was performing at a small theater in Daehakro."

Sitting on a platform atop the stage and looking out at the empty seats, Yu Myeong began telling Miho about the man.

"I think I had seven lines. Maybe appeared in three scenes. Just an unnamed minor role."

At the time, Yu Myeong had already been acting for eight years.

And he had fallen into a deep slump.

Acting was something meant to be seen.

No matter how much you loved it, there was a limit to how long self satisfaction alone could sustain you.

Am I really suited for this?

Do I genuinely have no talent whatsoever?

Should I quit before it's too late and find another path?

Questions like that haunted him dozens, hundreds of times every day.

Then one day—

"Actor Yu Myeong?"

"...Were you talking to me?"

"Yes."

It was after a performance.

Photo time.

The cast had returned to the stage to greet audience members.

For Yu Myeong, it was a meaningless event.

A few devoted fans approached the lead actors with cakes and bouquets.

Other audience members nervously asked their favorite actors for photographs.

Meanwhile, Yu Myeong—whom nobody sought out—had already pulled on work gloves and was picking up the flower petals scattered across the stage.

Starting from the edge so he wouldn't get in anyone's way.

Then someone called out to him.

A middle-aged gentleman.

"Would you mind giving me an autograph? I'm a fan."

"...A fan of mine?"

"The prison guard in One Day. The errand runner in Singapore Syndrome. And the messenger in Mayday."

Yu Myeong stared.

Every role the man named had been insignificant.

Forgettable bit parts.

Roles nobody should have remembered.

Yet the man remembered every one of them perfectly.

A fan?

Really?

Someone like me has a fan?

"I don't have any autograph cards..."

The man laughed.

"Just your name is enough."

Yu Myeong awkwardly wrote his name on the piece of paper offered to him.

Then he nearly dropped the pen when the man calmly said:

"Actually, my eyesight is quite poor. Not completely gone, but poor."

"H-how poor?"

"At this distance, I can see your facial expression. But once the distance becomes similar to the distance between the audience and the stage, all I can make out are vague colors and outlines."

"Then the performances..."

"It's fine."

The man smiled.

"I can usually tell people apart through their voices and their energy. I can feel how passionate they are. How much of themselves they're pouring into the performance."

His expression softened.

"Your acting is beautiful."

Yu Myeong later admitted to Miho, somewhat ashamed, that he had been disappointed at first.

How can someone who can't properly see a performance appreciate acting?

For a moment he had thought that the man hadn't truly become a fan of his acting.

{Then what changed your mind?}

"That..."

Intrigued, Miho urged him onward.

Yu Myeong continued.

The man appeared surprisingly often.

Twice a week, on average.

In fact, Yu Myeong found himself wondering how he had failed to notice such a regular audience member before.

The man always wore an old but neatly maintained suit.

He watched the performance quietly.

Then waited until everyone else had left before slowly rising from his seat.

Why does he keep coming back to the same performance...?

Meanwhile, Yu Myeong's own worries continued.

Should he keep pursuing acting?

Or quit?

The endless uncertainty drained him more than any rehearsal ever could.

His focus slipped.

Not that it mattered much.

A minor actor putting in slightly less effort wasn't going to affect the production.

Then one day—

"Actor Yu Myeong, if you have time, may I buy you a drink?"

"Uh... sure."

The man had been waiting outside the theater after the performance.

Yu Myeong was exhausted that day.

And desperately wanted a drink.

So he followed him without much thought.

Then he heard something astonishing.

"Perhaps because my eyesight is poor... I'm sensitive to what you'd call a person's energy."

"Energy?"

It sounded like the opening pitch of a cult.

For a moment, Yu Myeong wondered if the man was trying to recruit him into something.

Then the man said:

"You haven't been able to focus since last Wednesday's performance."

A chill ran down his spine.

That was the exact day his mother had called.

She had begged him through tears to stop pursuing such an uncertain career.

Hadn't acting always been a field where only extraordinary talent survived?

Could he not simply keep it as a hobby?

That was the day his anxiety had begun affecting him on stage.

The date was too precise to be a guess.

As though sensing Yu Myeong's shock, the man explained.

"I told you my perception is quite sharp. Even if I can't see clearly, I can feel the actors' energy in surprising detail.

The actor playing the sergeant has a large, rough presence.

The actor playing the enemy leader feels sharp and cutting.

And you..."

He paused.

"Your energy is faint. So faint that I have to concentrate very hard to notice it. But it's astonishingly refined. Beautiful, even."

He smiled.

"That's why I became your fan."

Miho let out a small groan.

{Kyaa... he's the type who perceives vitality with a sixth sense.}

"I only came to that conclusion later, after learning about vitality through you.

Back then I just thought he was an unusual person.

But honestly..."

Yu Myeong smiled bitterly.

"I was embarrassed.

For the first time, someone had caught me not giving my all."

Then he continued.

"You probably aren't certain of it yourself, but you have extraordinary talent as an actor. It's unfortunate that your weak energy prevents you from fully expressing it."

The man looked at him.

"These days... you're having a hard time, aren't you?"

"..."

"You don't enjoy acting the way you used to."

Then he revealed something of himself.

"Do you think I don't wish I could see the world clearly like everyone else? Especially the performances I love?

If I could watch them with healthy eyes, how wonderful would that be?"

He smiled.

"Still, feeling a little is far better than feeling nothing at all.

If other people need to watch a performance once, I can watch it ten times.

That's how I think about it."

"I see..."

"And every time I watch you, I gain courage."

The man's gaze was sincere.

"Even with such fragile energy, you perform so beautifully.

Watching that gives me strength."

"..."

"Hang in there.

There are practical concerns, of course. I can't ask you to keep acting no matter what.

But I wanted you to know that there is a fan who understands the value of your acting."

At the time, Yu Myeong hadn't fully understood those words.

Because he himself didn't understand the value of his own acting.

But he understood the sincerity behind them.

And knowing that even one person was his fan gave him immense strength during a difficult time.

He overcame his slump.

He threw himself back into acting.

And afterward, the man became the only fan who brought him a single flower after every performance.

Miho said as she nibbled at the lingering energy left inside the theater like cream filling.

{The acting energy here is so intense. Someone with strong perception would experience it even more vividly.}

"I've thought of something."

{What?}

"Just like I was given a chance to fully express my acting..."

Yu Myeong looked toward the dressing room.

"I want to give him a chance to fully experience a performance.

Just once."

{How?}

"Well..."

As Yu Myeong explained the idea, Miho's eyes sparkled.

Her tail spun in circles.

{That sounds fun! I want to see it too!}

"He's a fan who truly loves theater, but his eyesight is very poor. And I want him to experience our performance properly."

"His eyesight?" Seol Su Yeon frowned. "How bad?"

"He can make out facial expressions within about five meters. Beyond that, he can barely distinguish silhouettes."

"Can't glasses fix it?"

"Apparently that's his corrected vision. Severe hereditary myopia, extreme astigmatism. The hospitals basically gave up."

The moment she heard the explanation, Seol Su Yeon's expression darkened.

"Oh my God... then from the audience he can barely see the stage at all."

"Pretty much. His senses are unusually sharp, so he experiences the actors' energy. Mostly through voices and silhouettes."

"That must be frustrating. He really must love theater." She thought for a moment. "Couldn't we reserve him a front-row seat?"

As always, Chu Se Mi immediately focused on practical solutions.

"Even the front row wouldn't be enough to clearly see expressions unless we're at the very edge of the stage."

Then she tilted her head.

"How do you know him?"

"He's someone I owe a great deal to. The details are... difficult to explain."

"Hmm. If you're this concerned about him, then we probably need something more substantial."

Ryu Shin, who had immediately grasped the situation, spoke calmly.

Grateful that his colleagues were taking the matter seriously, Yu Myeong finally revealed the idea he had prepared.

"I know it's a huge favor to ask..."

He looked at each of them.

"Would it be possible to perform one extra show just for him?"

"A performance for one person?"

"Yes."

Yu Myeong nodded.

"I want to place him in the center of the stage and give him a performance close enough that he can actually see it.

Just once."

His voice softened.

"I want him to experience what it's feels like to truly watch a performance with his own eyes."

The room fell silent.

No one could immediately respond to Yu Myeong's extraordinary proposal.