Life is Easier If You're Handsome-Chapter 201

Just as I had immersed myself in the script, filming unfolded in much the same way.

The only real difference was that I wasn’t actually driving.

Since acting while driving was dangerous, the car was mounted on a trailer, and I only had to pretend to steer.

And as we continued filming—

Was Chisako always this good at acting?

The more we synced our performances, the more shocked I became.

She was bringing the exact same emotions I had experienced while reading the script.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much effort she had put in to reach this level.

"After we break up, can you promise not to bring another woman to this rest stop?"

And amidst my silent admiration, the scene continued to flow seamlessly.

"...What?"

"I want to linger. Like today isn’t really the last day."

At her words—no, her character’s words—my gaze naturally drifted to the rest stop sign.

It was a cruel request.

So this is the kind of childish selfishness you have.

I responded, my voice steady.

"You know that’s not possible."

"I know. But this is my selfish wish."

"I didn’t know it ran this deep."

"I never needed to before. I was happy."

"I don’t speak Japanese."

"And yet you just said that in Japanese."

A faint laugh.

This slow, unraveling conversation—

Today would be the last of it.

I felt my grip on the steering wheel tighten.

Wasting strength in the wrong places.

So my body reacts this way too, huh?

Vroooom.

The car quietly pulled into the rest stop.

A place to partially grant her selfish wish.

I deliberately parked as far from the entrance as possible.

Closest to the exit—where she’d have to walk the longest distance away.

"I love you."

The moment she realized the meaning behind my actions, she confessed.

But I had no intention of responding.

Because right now—that wasn’t the right thing to do.

Today was the day to cut the knot.

Yesterday was the last day to tighten it.

"You used to answer me before."

"Didn’t you say I don’t understand Japanese?"

"No, that was my last sentence in Korean. That’s it."

"Why?"

"Because you taught me. Your words are still inside me."

Three years together.

Six years of knowing each other.

Maybe we had actually been dating for six years.

Because even before we admitted it, we had always been in love.

But so many things had happened.

And it was only three years ago that we made it official.

"You know how to say things like that?"

"Guides sell romance for a living."

"I didn’t know that was part of the job."

"You always called yourself a fraud, so I never got the chance to explain."

"I was just stating facts."

"Anyone who read your book wouldn’t think so."

I knew that the longer this conversation lasted, the worse it would be for me.

Before, I would’ve just pulled her into a hug to shut her up.

But now, I only had one option left.

"...Enough. Get out."

"One last selfish request—unbuckle my seatbelt. And... open the door for me."

Her voice was calm.

She called it selfish, but there was nothing immature about it.

It was melancholy.

Like two people desperately trying to hold onto something that was already slipping away.

It was pitiful.

Click.

She stepped out of the car.

And in that moment—

For the first time in three years—

I did ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) something I had never done before.

And then—

Tightly.

The moment I unbuckled her seatbelt—

She suddenly pulled me into an embrace.

A force I didn’t expect.

A strength I didn’t know she had.

I didn’t resist.

Instead, I held her just as tightly.

When untying a knot—

Should you slowly unravel it?

Or sever it in one swift motion?

Without an answer—

We just stood there, holding onto each other for a fleeting moment.

And then—

"Cut!"

The illusion shattered.

From you and me, back to Chisako and Kim Donghu.

"Sniff."

Even after the OK sign, Chisako still couldn’t let go right away.

She was deep into method acting.

A level of emotional immersion that explained why she had acted so naturally.

"Sniff... Donghu-senpai."

"You okay?"

"Yeah... but... if they love each other this much... why do they break up?"

Her voice had steadied a little.

She slowly pulled away, her eyes still searching for an answer.

"Good question."

I hadn’t been given an answer either.

Not from the script, not from my own immersion.

The film only portrayed the process of their breakup—

Never why it began or how it ended.

Like a dream,

it had started in the middle of the story—

without a clear beginning or end.

"You’re not going to tell me, are you?"

"No. Not yet."

I had asked Director Lee Seong-deok directly.

And every time, his answer was always the same.

Not yet.

What wasn’t ready yet?

Only the director knew the answer to that.

"The rest stop is nearly empty right now... It’s the perfect time to shoot. Can we go ahead?"

"I’m good with it."

"Sniff... Me too! I just need to fix my makeup, and I’ll be ready!"

And so, without knowing where the beginning or the end truly lay,

we returned to filming.

Breaking the Knot

Three years—no, six years—of tightly bound knots.

A story about severing them.

We blew on steaming hot roasted potatoes dusted with sugar.

We ate fish cake udon, the dish she always said was only “real” when eaten in Japan.

"It’s not fish cake udon. It’s oden udon."

"...Out of nowhere?"

"Just like how it’s not kimuchi, it’s kimchi."

It was a conversation we’d had before.

Why was she bringing it up now?

We lingered in the rest stop like it was some Marble game’s deserted island,

deliberately avoiding rolling doubles to keep from moving forward.

We listened to old-school 90s trot music we wouldn’t normally play.

We bought a hook-shaped plastic back scratcher, surprised at how useful it was.

We impulsively decorated the car with a dancing cactus toy—

one of those stupid impulse buys you immediately regret.

We were supposed to be parting ways.

And yet, in those three extra turns on the island,

we ended up making more memories instead.

"Let’s go."

"Already?"

"It gets harder to drive when it’s dark."

"...Okay."

Even though I had parked far away,

we reached the car in no time.

And then—

Tightly.

She suddenly grabbed onto my arm.

"Let’s get tteokbokki."

"I’m too full."

"Coffee then? We just ate, we should have coffee."

"We can drink it when we get there."

"...But if you eat, you get sleepy. Shouldn’t you drink coffee?"

"It’s fine. Let’s go."

Her pleas stopped there.

No more forcing it.

Vroooom.

New n𝙤vel chapters are published on novelbuddy.cσ๓.

The car pulled out of the rest stop.

"Cut!"

And with that, filming wrapped for the day.

The next shoot would take place in Busan Port,

so until then, we had some time to relax.

Unexpectedly, Chisako had come alone.

She didn’t bring a manager.

Instead of making her ride with the crew,

I figured it’d be easier to have her ride in my van.

"Whoa... This is the van you use? It’s huge!"

"Haven’t you seen these before?"

"Not really. Wages are lower in Japan than you’d think. Even if someone’s famous, there’s still a lack of luxury like this."

"That so?"

"Yeah, plus the production budgets are way lower... at least ten times less?"

"Ten times?"

That was a massive gap.

Looking at recent box office numbers, though,

it wasn’t that surprising.

"Of course, top voice actors can make a lot... But there aren’t many who reach that level."

The small pie at the very top was the same everywhere.

I could understand that.

"That’s why Director Kiryu complains so much when I see him."

"Huh?"

"He keeps saying, ‘We have to get Kim Donghu into a Japanese film somehow...’ But no one can afford you."

On the way to Busan Port,

I chatted with Chisako about all sorts of things.

The most interesting?

The possible anime adaptation of Our Fake Wedding.

"Wait, they’re really making that into an anime?"

"Yeah, from what I heard, they’re still working out the rights issues."

Though apparently—

"It all depends on the bullets."

"...Bullets?"

"Yeah. Our Fake Wedding was so successful that they’re... uh, financially struggling a bit."

As I listened, I realized—

this was already a well-known rumor in Japan.

Not exactly a secret,

but also not officially confirmed.

Even Twitter users were openly talking about it.

Yet, for some reason, the company kept pretending nothing was happening.

"So it’s real, huh?"

Ironically, the one who responded to my comment wasn’t Chisako—

"What an interesting development. I can’t believe we didn’t know about this."

Netflix Content Team Leader Park Ji-yi.

Why was she in my van?

Simple.

Because of Seokho-hyung.

For Veritas, maintaining good relations with the Netflix content team was an absolute win.

Something about this situation is unfolding in an oddly intriguing way.

What kind of butterfly effect would this create?

That was something only time would reveal.

***

Two days in Busan Port.

Four more days to capture the youthful moments.

An extra week for reshoots and real-time adjustments.

A total of two weeks had passed.

"Thank you for your hard work!"

With that, filming for Breaking the Knot officially wrapped.

From here on, the film would go through editing and refinement until it was ready for submission to Cannes.

That was a director’s job, not an actor’s.

So as far as my schedule was concerned, this was the end of the line.

Too bad I won’t be able to attend Cannes in May.

It was a huge missed opportunity.

"So does that mean you’re free for now?"

"My schedule is... oh! There’s something coming up in March. Want to do it?"

"March?"

While discussing my schedule with Seokho-hyung at Veritas HQ,

a sudden March event popped up.

A gig scheduled for next month?

Seokho-hyung was someone who filtered out most offers,

so whatever this was, it had to be interesting.

"Yeah, it’s for a ceremonial first pitch. People are really curious about how you throw."

A first pitch.

"If it’s just throwing a ball and leaving, I don’t mind."

"Oh? Really?"

"Yeah, as long as it’s on a rest day. Recovery is just as important as training, after all."

It actually sounded pretty fun.

But the moment I agreed, Seokho-hyung’s expression turned serious.

"Then... which team do you want to pitch for?"

"Huh?"

"Which team do you want to throw for?"

"Isn’t that something the teams decide?"

"Well... every single team wants you to do it."

"...."

Wait.

So this became a bidding war?

And now the decision was on me?

This was way more complicated than I expected.

...Which team should I choose?