Aura of a Genius Actor

Theater Company Vague.

One of the local theater companies in Nice, the resort city of southern France.

Today, its actors were waiting for a guest.

Opinion among them was split into two camps.

"An outsider is coming to perform for us? Why bother?"

"I'm grateful for all the years Monsieur Vallon has supported us, but I honestly don't understand this. He keeps praising this actor as something extraordinary, but we already watch extraordinary actors every day. It's not like he'll be better than Antoine."

"He's from the East, isn't he? Maybe he has some unusual trick."

One camp regarded Vallon's guest with suspicion.

The other was more interested.

"I saw Ballerina High when it was brought over from the Minerva Theatre. His acting was incredibly unique."

"From what Vallon °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° told me, that play called Peter Pan sounded fascinating. Do you think he'll perform that?"

"I just hope it's something interesting."

Their eyes shone with anticipation.

The actor someone had confidently declared "couldn't possibly be better than Antoine" was Antoine Monnier, one of Theater Company Vague's rising stars.

Leaning against the rear wall of the theater, Antoine watched the atmosphere without joining either side.

Black hair.

Black eyes.

A handsome actor whose relaxed smile seemed native to southern France itself.

His foot tapped lightly against the floor as he smiled to himself.

So he's supposedly even better than the actor Hugo took away.

I wonder what kind of actor he is.

Antoine had appeared in a film directed by Hugo Viard.

He had experienced Hugo's eccentric personality and impossible standards firsthand.

Hugo had even tried to recruit him to Brize Theatre Company in Paris, but Antoine had laughed and waved him off.

"Are you trying to kill me? Being roasted alive for months during a film shoot was more than enough."

His easygoing nature had made him one of the few actors who could work well with Hugo.

At the same time, it had left him thoroughly exhausted by the man's temperament.

Antoine preferred the air of southern France.

Relaxed.

Warm.

Free.

Paris was a place to visit for work.

Nothing more.

Still, he couldn't help being curious about the Eastern actor who had captivated the notoriously demanding Hugo—and about today's guest, whom Vallon claimed was even more remarkable.

Creak—

Just as Antoine's curiosity was reaching its peak, the theater entrance finally opened.

"My beloved actors. Have you all been well?"

"Monsieur Vallon!"

"Oh, Antoine. Doing well? Where's Gary?"

"The sponsor called him away. He said for us to enjoy the performance ourselves."

"That's unfortunate. Gary would have loved this. Ah, and this is Shin Yu Myeong. An actor from Korea."

"I've heard quite a bit about you. You're the actor Monsieur Vallon is completely enamored with, aren't you?"

"Did he really say that? That's embarrassing."

Standing nearest the entrance, Antoine extended his hand.

As they shook, he carefully studied the man.

Average height.

Clean-cut appearance.

A polite smile.

An East Asian man who, at first glance, didn't seem particularly overflowing with star quality.

"Today's performance has my expectations."

"I'll do my best to meet them."

Antoine blinked.

The confidence with which the man returned the remark didn't quite match his first impression.

Concealing his surprise, Yu Myeong shook the offered hand.

Still a newcomer.

But a man destined to become one of France's most celebrated actors.

Years later, when the internet became even more widespread, he would accumulate a considerable fanbase even in Korea.

People would say he possessed an innate ability to captivate women.

Looking at him now, even men might find themselves charmed by that smile.

After exchanging brief greetings with Antoine and the other actors, Yu Myeong stepped onto the stage.

Facing the twenty-odd actors scattered throughout the audience seats, he gave a brief introduction.

"The work I'll be presenting today is Mumu by Ivan Turgenev. Since this is only an excerpt rather than the complete piece, I'll briefly explain the background for those unfamiliar with the original."

The protagonist was Gerasim.

Born deaf and mute, the serf Gerasim caught the attention of a wealthy landowner because of his tremendous strength and was brought to the city to work as a servant on her estate.

The first person he ever cared for was a maid named Tatyana.

But the landowner married her off to another man.

For the first time, Gerasim realized there was nothing he could do.

"And so, after deciding to avoid becoming attached to people, Gerasim rescues a dying puppy. We'll begin from the moment he forms his second attachment."

Before starting, Yu Myeong made several requests.

First, the lighting.

He asked for every light in the theater to be turned off except for a single spotlight in the center of the stage.

The light should be broad, but dim.

The world of Gerasim—a man who could neither hear nor speak—needed to feel cramped and oppressive.

Once the spotlight was lit, he placed a small dog doll at the edge where light and darkness met.

Then came the sound.

He handed over a cassette tape he had prepared in advance.

"The audio quality isn't particularly good, but I'd appreciate it if you could play this."

Then Yu Myeong stepped into the center of the spotlight.

"Monsieur Vallon only asked me three days ago, so many of the supporting elements, such as sound effects and props, are rather lacking. But I promise there will be no shortcomings in the acting."

Once again, Antoine found himself slightly surprised by the man's polite confidence.

"I'll begin."

The actor onstage became Gerasim.

Treating the illuminated circle as the estate itself, he moved through it hammering nails, carrying heavy loads, sweeping with a broom.

His mime work is remarkably precise.

At that point, Antoine was still observing with mild interest.

The man was expressionless.

While working, not a trace of a smile appeared on his face.

A brick wall of a face.

As though emotion had never been included in its design.

Tap, tap.

After working for some time, he dusted off his hands and slipped them into his pockets.

Then he began walking along the edge of the spotlight.

As though heading somewhere.

Then a sound emerged.

Whine—

Whimper—

The cry of a suffering puppy.

He discovered the small dog and carefully lifted it with both hands.

Crossing the brightest part of the light, he carried it to the opposite side and laid it down.

Even then, his expression remained indifferent.

He wiped the dog clean with his sleeve.

Removed his own outer garment and covered it.

Disappearing briefly into the darkness, he returned carrying something in both hands and held it to the dog's mouth.

Food, apparently.

Antoine had been watching casually until that moment.

Then he suddenly froze.

Smile.

A faint warmth appeared upon the face that had been dry as stone.

The harsh impression softened.

People smiled all the time.

Why was this smile so captivating?

Perhaps because it was the first emotion shown by someone who had seemed incapable of feeling.

The man lifted the doll.

"M... Mu..."

Written down, it resembled the name Mumu.

In reality, it sounded almost animalistic.

The only sound a mute man could produce.

A groan emerging not from his throat but from the depths of his chest.

For the second time, something struck Antoine directly in the heart.

As though waiting for that moment, the audio began.

Its voices intertwined with the man's sound.

"Oh, Gerasim. What's the puppy's name?"

"M... Muu..."

"Mumu?"

"Hahaha, Henri. Gerasim can't say anything except 'Mumu.'"

And thus the puppy received its name.

Mumu.

Once he began raising Mumu, expressions appeared on the man's face.

He finished sweeping with enthusiasm and rushed to rub his face against the puppy.

After hauling heavy loads all day, he returned with scraps of bread and fed them to Mumu before eating himself.

"Mumu— Mumu—"

The cries, almost screams, overflowed with joy.

That expression...

Antoine clenched his hand.

Not a single spoken word.

Yet everything was visible.

An expression that loved something so much it hurt.

An expression of finding the very reason to live.

An expression steeped in affection.

Time passed.

People betrayed.

Animals did not.

He looked at the puppy.

Looked again.

And again.

The sweetness in his expression climbed higher and higher until it reached its peak.

Then the tragedy began.

"Where did this dog come from? What an adorable little thing."

The sharp voice of an old woman emerged from the tape.

The landowner.

"Bring me that dog."

Woof! Woof!

"What a stupid dog! It won't even come to its owner. What's it afraid of?"

"It's just unfamiliar with you."

The tape reproduced the voices of the estate and the barking of the dog.

But Gerasim heard nothing.

He simply continued working.

Sweating.

Silent.

Occasionally smiling to himself as though thinking of Mumu.

"What a lovely dog."

Woof! Grrr... Woof!

"Oh my!"

"What is wrong with this dog?! Why is it so vicious?!"

Apparently Mumu had bared its teeth at a stranger.

The landowner instantly withdrew her praise and began cursing the animal.

Meanwhile Gerasim worked cheerfully, unaware.

The audience's anxiety continued to rise.

"Make sure that dog disappears today."

With a backward kick, the man knocked the dog doll away.

It vanished into the darkness.

Mumu had been sold.

Was he crying?

Or calling the dog's name?

The desperate sound pierced straight through the chest.

The man ran.

Peering below.

Stretching onto his toes to search the distance.

Through frantic gestures he asked where the dog had gone.

Then, overcome with frustration, he struck his own chest.

Desperation.

The desperation of someone who possessed nothing and had lost the one thing precious to him.

It radiated from the stage.

Vallon clicked his tongue.

He had felt this while watching Peter Pan as well.

This actor always exceeded expectations.

It had been a casual request.

He had expected perhaps a small improvisation.

Instead, during those three days, Yu Myeong had contacted Vallon's acquaintances to record various voices and even acquired dog sound effects to create a demo tape.

His dedication was impressive.

But something else was even more astonishing.

Have the actors realized it yet?

The figure who had vanished into darkness reappeared carrying the dog.

Mumu had escaped from wherever she had been sold and returned on her own.

"Muu..."

The joy exploded.

Tears streamed down his face.

His trembling hands examined the puppy.

Caressed her endlessly.

With a tenderness painful to watch.

Then he took off his coat and wrapped her inside.

Completely.

So nobody could ever see her or take her away again.

Even afterward, he repeatedly looked back at the hidden puppy with anxious eyes before leaving for work.

Drip.

Drip.

He worked with such intensity it almost seemed possible to hear the sweat falling.

Twice as hard as usual.

Feigning normalcy.

Then he returned.

The moment he lifted the coat, his face lit up.

He hugged the puppy and rejoiced as though dancing.

But—

Whine—

Whiiiine—

The sound of the puppy returned.

A chill ran through Vallon.

No.

Please don't bark.

But a dog could not understand human wishes.

Soon the barking came.

And then the voices followed.

"What's that noise?"

"Didn't that dog come back?"

"This damned dog! It came back! It came back! Good heavens!"

The landowner's hysterical screams.

Gerasim heard none of it.

He continued working happily.

Murmurs spread.

The mistress's headaches had returned.

She was having an episode.

Because of Gerasim's dog.

At last, he seemed to realize something was wrong.

He ran to the puppy and embraced her tightly, shielding her with his body.

Then the landowner's cold voice fell from above.

"Can it truly be that some dog means more to him than the safety and life of the mistress he serves? I refuse to believe such a thing."

"That's what the mistress said, Gerasim. Hand over the dog. Hand. Over. The. Dog."

Each word was exaggerated, as though speaking to someone incapable of understanding.

The man shook his head.

Covering the puppy with his entire body.

Refusing.

Begging.

But the recorded voices only grew louder.

"Hand over the dog."

"Hand over the dog."

"Hand over the dog."

Eventually the man rose.

His back trembling.

Then he made a gesture.

A gesture toward those standing before him.

The audio slowly interpreted it.

"You'd rather kill the dog yourself? With your own hands? Fine. If that's what you insist on."

The man quietly picked up the puppy.

By now, his eyes were swimming with tears.

But that wasn't the only reason.

It frustrated him.

Yet he couldn't deny it.

A man who possessed nothing.

A man preparing to kill with his own hands the one being he loved above all else.

Because he had loved her too much.

Because even if he abandoned her, she would always come back to him.

Because it would be better for her to die by his hand than be taken away and disposed of by strangers.

The misery of that decision felt tangible.

"Muu... Muuuu..."

Not a single line of dialogue.

Yet that sound alone conveyed unbearable grief.

The acting was extraordinary.

The final meal.

He gathered food in both hands and offered it to the puppy.

Watching her eat as though the sight itself brought him happiness.

Again.

And again.

Then he gently lifted her and carried her toward the farthest edge of the spotlight.

Setting the puppy down with care, he began rowing.

His hand movements alone made it seem as though a boat were drifting farther and farther into deep water.

Then he set down the invisible oar.

Picked up the puppy with both hands.

"Muuu—"

Unable to look at her face.

Drowning in sorrow.

His fingers traced her eyes.

Her nose.

Her mouth.

Memorizing them.

Treasuring them.

He kissed her gently.

Then he slipped a rope around her neck, squeezed his eyes shut, and lowered her into the river.

Antoine squeezed his own eyes shut as well.

Bracing himself for the desperate cries.

For the puppy's final screams.

"..."

But nothing came.

No sound at all.

Even the hiss of the cassette tape disappeared.

Absolute silence.

And in that instant, goosebumps erupted across Antoine's body.

This...

This is...

Gerasim's perspective.

As he sent away the being he loved most, he couldn't even hear her cries.

In his world of silence, the only thing he could hear was his own grief.

"Muuuu—! Muuuu—!"

He pounded his chest as though it might break apart.

And Antoine clutched his own chest for an entirely different reason.

This was acting on a level he had never seen before.