Chapter 111.1

Chapter 111.1

André’s eyes, fixed on the screen, were bloodshot red.

[Hoo…]

The first emotion he felt was something close to rage.

Knowing that someone else had seen what he wanted to keep only for himself filled him with a maddening jealousy that pushed him to the edge.

He was overwhelmed by the urge to destroy himself. To drown in alcohol or mutilate his body, to replace one pain with another.

Running a hand down his face, he forced the impulse down and rewound the tape before pressing play again.

She took off her shirt once more.

A second time.

A third.

A fourth.

A fifth.

He lost count after that, replaying the same scene over and over again.

His jaw tingled. When he rubbed it with the back of his hand, he felt something wet. Frozen in shock, he leaned back against the seat and lifted his head. As he blinked up at the dark ceiling, something hot slid down his temple. He clutched his side as if to tear it open.

He wanted to see her.

Alive, breathing.

Miran, smiling at him.

If he could hold her, kiss her, touch her again, he would have sold his soul for it.

André rewound the tape once more.

Again.

And again.

Only when the darkness outside began to pale with dawn did he finally leave the room.

—

“Ugh, who the hell’s calling at this hour…”

Grumbling, Hyunsu groped for the phone beside his bed and answered in a cranky voice.

“Hello!”

― “This is André de Lafayette. I’ve decided to invest another fifty thousand dollars in Flushing Video.”

Hyunsu’s jaw dropped. He shot up in his boxers and pumped his fist in the air.

“Thank you! Did you get a chance to watch the teaser I gave you yesterday?”

― “Yes.”

“How was it? Great movie, right?”

― “…Yes.”

There was no further comment, but Hyunsu didn’t care.

That legendary orange tribe guy, Seunghyuk, was talented but hopeless with money—like a cracked pot that could never hold anything. Still, Hyunsu felt as if a divine spotlight had just shone down on him, the light of hope for snagging a golden investor. His heart raced.

‘At this rate, are we really going to Sundance?’

Putting on his best producer charm, Hyunsu started laying it on thick. A good producer, after all, knew how to flatter the financier.

“The scenes with Michelle came out absolutely fantastic, don’t you think? You know, that’s all thanks to you, André. Our cinematographer said Director Nam told her to imagine the camera lens as her boyfriend while she acted. That’s how we got those perfect shots!”

There was no response from the other end.

Hyunsu’s stomach dropped. Maybe he’d gone too far. As he replayed what he’d just said, wondering which part might have offended him, André finally spoke.

― “How many frames go into one second of film?”

The unexpected question threw Hyunsu off for a moment, but he quickly replied.

“You mean frame rate? For standard theatrical film, it’s twenty-four frames per second.”

Silence again. Hyunsu darted his eyes around, wondering if he should explain more about frames, when André spoke once more.

― “I heard some of Miran’s footage was cut due to the rating issue.”

“Yes, yes. I heard they trimmed about ten seconds for the censorship board.”

― “A thousand dollars per frame. I want to buy all the footage that was cut from Miran’s scenes. Outtakes included.”

Hyunsu’s voice shot up.

“…Excuse me?”

― “Discuss it with Director Nam Seunghyuk and call me back. Oh, and I heard you’re planning to shoot in Korea…”

—

Saturday, October 12, 1996.

With her heart fluttering, Miran headed for Myeongdong. It felt like just yesterday that Seunghyuk had called to say the Korean shoot dates were set back in mid-September, and she could hardly believe it was already October.

Last night, she finally got the call that the Flushing Video team had arrived in Korea. As she spoke with Seunghyuk on the phone, she could hear the crew around him shouting cheerful greetings to her in the background.

A bright smile spread across Miran’s lips for the first time in a while. The Flushing Video team were people she could never forget, the kind who left her with memories she could fold neatly in a corner of her heart and unfold from time to time to smile at again.

From what she heard, their schedule was brutal, with no time to recover from jet lag. They would finish filming in Seoul by Monday, head down to Jumunjin on Tuesday to shoot Jin’s hometown scene, return to Seoul on Saturday for a single night of rest, and then fly back to New York on Sunday.