Of course, if you look at it from another point of view, it could be a successful life.
But if something is being weighed on the scales of life, it must be the guy who falls flat on his face as he tries hard to maintain the balance.
Iâm someone who fits the âcountry bumpkinâ nickname very well. I was born and raised in Yeongdo, Busan. Busan may be known as the second capital but Yeongdo is on the outskirts 1, where I grew up with the fishermenâs strong accent and the scent of the sea.
âOh my, our Yeongguk is first in the grade again!â
My mother, who sells fish at Namhang Market, received my report card with her wrinkled hands. At that time, my mother was completely ignorant of the truth that her son was really good at lying and was faking his grades for pocket money.
When I was young, I was ashamed of my mother who sells fish in the market and was extremely disgusted with the smell of it that lingered on her hands. It felt like I was being shown what life at the bottom was like and I tried my best to look away.
But before I knew it, just like suntanned skin, it became a fixture in my life.
âYeongguk-ah, letâs go to the market?â 2
My mother closed up shop and came home late, but she didnât mind preparing dinner and setting the table. She personally deboned the fleshy and fatty part of the mackerel and put it into my bowl.
She always intended to give everything to her one and only son. But I was just a childish idiot then, and I couldnât understand the depths of my motherâs heart.
âI need to buy a self-study bookâŠâ
âHow much do you need?â
âTen thousand won.â
She took out folded, crumpled bills worth ten thousand won from her loose pants 3 and handed them over to me. Even though she took out a dayâs worth of income in one go, she didnât look unhappy. If anything, the wrinkled corner of her eyes quivered as if she was sorry that she could only give that much.
Even in middle school, my mother had always thought that I was good at studying, and her expectations grew because of the fake report cards. But her expectations were blotted by disappointment when I entered high school.
At some point, I started smoking and hanging out with delinquent students. Just like that, I wasted away my campus life, and all that was left to show for it was my embarrassing CSAT 4 result. Had my exam score been good, maybe my guilt towards my mother would have been reduced.
[Hanyoung University â Theater and Film Department applicant, Jang Yeongguk.]
At first, I wasnât thinking about becoming an actor. Itâs just that, I saw that those popular actors under the spotlight lived in high-class apartments with great overlooking views of the Han River.
And so, I submitted my application. It was possible since the CSAT score wasnât required that much in the case of the Theater and Film Department.
But it turned out that I would unexpectedly discover my talent during the entrance interview.
âActing is a talent. You can nurture it, but innate talent is important. Today, this is where we determine the level of your talent. Would you like to act out the stage directions 5 and lines in the script?â
I quietly glanced at the script at the old professorâs question. The role was that of a murderer, a cynical and utterly cunning psychopath. A person who doesnât hesitate to kill people as if he was just having a meal. It was the story of his life that I have never lived before.
The lines were short but unknowingly, as I was reading the script, it felt like I had become that person.
Actor.
I wanted to become an actor. I wanted to be renowned and famous. But as the seasons changed, I came to realize something.
The truth is, my talent is as weak and as insignificant as a firefly, and this world has rows and rows of people whose talents shine brightly like the sun.
But I didnât give up. I was confident that I could do anything for the sake of success.
Even when I skipped meals and satiated my hunger with just tap water, I never left the stage. And my talent, which was as weak and insignificant as that of a firefly, eventually began to light up.
The heavens might have helped me because of that. One day, I caught the eye of a famous producer and was cast in a supporting role in a weekend drama. But the drama flopped because of the terrible acting of the idol who was cast as the lead actor.
I thought it was over for me since the drama from a main broadcasting station 6 recorded single-digit ratings. If there was a stroke of good luck amid my misfortune, it was that the relevant parties were able to take a good look at my acting. And so, I was cast in another drama and movie. Of course, not for the lead role, but for the supporting role. Or an important role. 7
Supporting roles.
In a way, I might have been unqualified. It was doubtful whether I could be casted in any lead role. Maybe monolids were preferred or maybe tanned men were considered sexy and were more popular, but those things had nothing to do with me.
A height that exceeds 180cm makes me a tall person, but who would have known that that would become poison instead? If I had been shorter, I would have been able to play more diverse supporting roles.
A pockmarked face, a fierce impression, and a height as tall as a treeâŠpeople who donât know me would have misunderstood that I was a gangster. I was totally unfit for playing leading roles.
But even so, I didnât give up. I wanted to pour out all my ability even with these conditions. Thanks to that, my nickname those days was clear and simple.
Crazy bastard.
Whether itâs a drama or a movie, a big role or a small role, I didnât discriminate. I acted in them all. I read the script over and over again until it was worn down, and I did everything for the sake of immersing myself in the role assigned to me.
Because of that, the staff at the set openly called me a âcrazy bastardâ.
They didnât mean it in a bad way. After all, an actorâs acting is his face 8 and his essence.
[Son, the weatherâs getting cold, should I come visit you?]
âNo need. Donât come.â
I was already nearing my 40s but my mother worried after me, who was like an idiot, as if she was a hedgehog taking care of her baby. 9
But her son only thought of his mother as embarrassing.
During the year-end award show where I unprecedently won the Best in Acting award through a supporting role, I didnât mention my mother in my acceptance speech even once. Thatâs because I was deliberately erasing the traces of poverty from the life of âJang Yeonggukâ.
I just comforted myself by thinking that I was being filial 10 to her by sending her money every month.
I had become a renowned actor living in an apartment that had a great overlooking view of the Han River, but I hated facing my mother. To be precise, I hated showing others my flaw called âpovertyâ.
Just like how I despised, more than any other odor, the smell of fish that I used to smell when I was a child.
It was smooth sailing.
Afterwards, I became so popular to the point that there wasnât anyone in the entire country that didnât know the three syllables of the name, âJang Yeonggukâ. I was thriving through acting and possessed unenviable wealth. 11
But it was around that time when the waves of change once again came to find me.
[This is Yeongdo Hospital. Is this Mr. Jang Yeongguk?]
It was a sudden phone call from my hometown. They said my mother collapsed.
She had a stroke and a heart attack. Her weak and small body, which had accumulated fatigue from all sorts of labor, couldnât take it anymore and collapsed.
It was only when I arrived at the hospital in Busan that I was able to face my mother.
She looked so much older than the âmotherâ in my memories. Her face was damaged by the sea breeze and tinged gray like that of an old person in his 80s.
âSonâŠyour face has become so thin,â my mother said as she struggled to raise her hand to touch her son.
It was then that I realized.
What I tried so hard to erase wasnât the traces of poverty, but my mother.
Thatâs right. Iâm a bastard.
I kept regretting it as I stroked the face of the mother whom I abandoned, a face full of age spots.
My mother held on for almost a week before passing away.
She was a mother who didnât want to leave poverty as an inheritance for her son. She hid in the closet the bank book containing the small amount of money that she had saved by collecting every penny and dime.
I couldnât hold back the tears that flooded my eyes as I wept bitterly.
The world turned dark as if there was a blackout and I barely got through the day every day by relying on alcohol. There wasnât a place where I could be found anymore, whether at Chungmuro 12 or at the broadcasting stations.
I lived the rest of my life like a drifter. I felt sorry towards my mother who was watching over me from heaven, but there was nothing left for me anymore.
Everything just felt empty, like black dye was diffusing inside my brain.
I wanted to end my life, but I didnât have the confidence that I would see my mother even if I die.
Before I knew it, my pride as a successful actor had turned into dust. And like a scar, only the ugly face of a child remained. I probably will go to hell when I die.
I carefully climbed up on a chair and fastened around my neck the rope that was hanging from the ceiling. It doesnât seem bad to end the show like this. 13 My body, wasted by alcohol just like a salted fish 14, couldnât be any more haggard. And my hollow eyes have long lost their light.
I wonder if the face of my mother that I can vaguely see with my unfocused eyes is an illusion.
It was then, with perfect timing, that a moth appeared out of nowhere and flew towards the dim light on the ceiling.
The moth was my traveling companion on my trip to the underworld.
âWhat are you flying so hard for?â I made up my mind and kicked away the chair.
Like a tiger moth flying into the dim light.
The skinny limbs flapped in the air as they went limp and dropped.