Ghost-seeing actor

It’s been three days since the ghost stuck to him.

Taeju had seen countless ghosts over the past ten years, but this was the first time one had clung to him like glue.

Though Taeju thoroughly ignored him, the ghost persistently tried to talk to him.

[How long are you going to ignore me? Hello? Han Taeju?]

The unceasing voice reminded him of that night.

It all started when he was practicing his acting late at night. This guy had been lingering around.

Or wait… was it even earlier, when he met the little ghost girl?

“Ugh, this is driving me crazy. Why is this happening to me?”

There wasn’t much difference between this ghost and the ones Taeju had encountered over the past decade.

If a ghost had the will to communicate, they could speak with him through their thoughts.

What made this ghost unique, however, was that he had been an actor during his lifetime.

His name was Lee Junghyup.

A theater and film major, he made his debut at the age of 20.

He had a tall, well-proportioned body, broad shoulders, and an unforgettable, charming smile.

But more than his striking looks, it was his acting ability that truly shone.

He worked across theater, drama, and film, endlessly moving between large and small roles, and earned recognition as a skillful actor.

A supporting actor who often outshone the leads—people knew his name.

“No wonder you looked so familiar…”

Taeju remembered seeing him on TV.

He recalled how Lee Junghyup always delivered exceptional performances.

No matter what role he played, he seemed to become that character effortlessly.

But people could no longer see his acting.

He had suddenly passed away five years ago.

At the age of 36.

He and his peer Lee Sunwoo had been cast together as leads in the drama Déjà Vu.

It was right when he was about to transition from a well-recognized supporting actor to a leading man.

But Lee Junghyup tragically died in an accident on set.

And after that, he became a ghost.

[Ghosts who should be in the afterlife linger in this world because of regrets or grudges—what we call han. It’s their unresolved desires that keep them here, forcing them to suffer in agony and thirst every single day. Only by resolving their han can they find peace and move on.]

“You’re… a bit unusual, though. All the ghosts I’ve seen before were gloomy and just obsessed with their own unfinished business. But you seem bright and… oddly carefree.”

[That’s because I’m a captain ghost.]

Lee Junghyup shrugged his shoulders proudly.

[There are different types of ghosts: captain ghosts, regular ghosts, and evil spirits. Evil spirits are consumed by such deep grudges that they can no longer think rationally. Those ones are extremely dangerous.]

“What makes you different from a regular ghost, then?”

[Regular ghosts tend to obsess over the targets of their grudges. But I don’t cling to anyone. As a captain ghost, I also manage ghosts with deep grudges to make sure they don’t turn into evil spirits. I can even track down spirits by their ‘scent.’ I’ve got other abilities, too.]

“You’re really something else. A ghost with no obsessions but all these abilities? You must’ve been a saint in your past life.”

[Hahaha!]

Suddenly, Lee Junghyup burst into laughter as if Taeju had said something hilarious.

Then, he flashed a chilling smile.

[You know, I used to be an evil spirit. I somehow managed to break out of that shell and regain my sanity, but in the process, I forgot what my grudge even was. I wandered aimlessly for a while until the King of the Underworld appointed me as a captain ghost. He told me to stop others from turning into evil spirits. He promised that if I did, I’d eventually get a chance to resolve my own grudge.]

Taeju struggled to hide his shock.

‘Lee Junghyup was a former evil spirit?’

[Don’t look at me like that. I have no intention of harming you. I don’t even remember what it was like to be an evil spirit. All I want now is to resolve my grudge and find peace.]

“…Can I really trust you?”

[I swear on the King of the Underworld.]

Taeju coughed awkwardly.

“Well, if you put it like that, fine. But if you don’t remember your grudge… Couldn’t it be related to acting? I mean, you spent your whole life performing.”

[That’s what I thought too. So, for the past five years, I’ve watched famous actors, performed in front of other ghosts, and tried everything I could. But nothing ever changed. And then I met you.]

Lee Junghyup stared at Taeju.

[When you comforted that child ghost, who was crying out of fear of being alone, I thought you were such a strange but warmhearted kid. Despite resenting ghosts, you held back your anger so the child wouldn’t feel worse. And then, you tried to save me without hesitation when I almost got hit by that car—recklessly, I might add. That’s when I became certain. This kid might be different. He might actually be able to help me move on.]

“That’s…”

[And then, without even realizing it, I found myself drawn to you. I saw you desperately acting in the park. Watching your genuine performance, for the first time, my heart raced. After all the chaos, my heart had been silent for so long… until that moment.]

Taeju froze at those words.

Lee Junghyup was the only one.

The only one who had seen him act in the park.

The only one who had witnessed him pour out his burning desire to perform.

[Actors are meant to portray countless lives. Only those who can look at others with warmth can become true actors. In that sense, Taeju… you’re already an incredible actor.]

“No, I…”

[There’s no use regretting things after you’re dead. You have to do everything you want to while you’re still alive. I’ll help you. So…]

Lee Junghyup met Taeju’s eyes with a warm gaze.

[Let’s act. Honestly, you want to do it more than anything, don’t you?]

He had struck a chord.

A part of Taeju that he didn’t want anyone to see.

A dream he had held onto for ten years.

A secret, private wish that neither his friends nor family knew about.

The desire to act—something that filled his mind just before he nearly died.

He had sworn that, if he got another chance at life, he wouldn’t leave room for regret.

The suppressed craving for acting stirred in him once more.

***

The Friday afternoon before the weekend.

Despite his aunt’s worries—“You’ve just been discharged, shouldn’t you rest instead of working?”—Taeju smiled and said he was fine as he headed to the café.

He worked hard, but his mind kept wandering.

If, as Lee Junghyup said, the visions before death were his grudge, then perhaps his grudge really was acting.

This new lease on life… He didn’t want to leave any regrets behind.

He wanted to act with everything he had.

But as much as he loved acting, he also cherished his family.

His aunt and cousin had pulled him out of despair after his parents’ death, when he had been nothing but a shell of himself.

Because of their love, he had been able to stand back up like a resilient doll that never falls.

It was then that the café door swung open, and a chubby young man with a friendly smile walked in.

It was Taeju’s best friend of ten years, Seo Dongrak.

“Dongrak! What brings you here? I thought you were busy with that movie project?”

“Let’s talk after you’re done with work. I’ll have the usual.”

It had finally come.

The topic Taeju had avoided over the phone.

***

A few hours later.

Taeju sat across from Dongrak.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Taeju had been friends with Dongrak since kindergarten.

Their friendship, which started at six years old, was now in its fifteenth year.

Taeju had given up on his dream, but Dongrak’s was still alive and well.

He had enrolled in film school to become a director.

“I’m submitting a short film to the Firma Film Festival, and it’s a boxing movie. I need someone to play the final match opponent.”

Dongrak handed Taeju the script.

“The Final Bout.”

Taeju skimmed through it quickly.

Even with a cursory glance, the story was engaging.

The protagonist’s backstory was deeply captivating, and the final match opponent character was also appealing.

The role wasn’t big, but the character was intense, driven by fierce competitiveness.

“I’ve put everything into this. Taeju, please help me out just this once.”

“Give me some time to think about it.”

“You’ll need to decide by tonight.”

Taeju was caught off guard.

“That soon? Isn’t that too rushed?”

“Well… the final match shoot is tomorrow. It starts in the morning at the gym.”

Dongrak added hurriedly.

“If you’re hesitating because you haven’t acted in a while, don’t worry. You’re tall and athletic—perfect for the role. To be honest, when I first came up with this movie…”

Dongrak’s lips trembled as though he had swallowed his words.

“When do you need my answer?”

“By 10 p.m.”

“Hey, if I say no that late, where are you going to find a replacement—”

“Taeju.”

Dongrak placed a firm hand on Taeju’s shoulder.

“I believe in you.”

With that, Dongrak left, and Lee Junghyup turned to Taeju and spoke.

[You seem pretty determined, huh?]
Lee Junghyup muttered, glancing at Taeju, who was silent and lost in thought.

[Well, it’s your decision to make. But I hope you make a choice you won’t regret. You only live once, after all. And having the chance to choose—that’s a privilege of the living.]

A life lived only once, a choice without regret, the privilege of the living.

Taeju found himself repeating those words over and over.

***

That night.

After parting ways with Dongrak, Taeju spent some time at the park before finally returning home.

He finished his school assignments and pulled out the script to practice.

He read and analyzed it again and again until the pages were crumpled and worn.

He fully understood the story, and the characters that lived and breathed within it.

Reciting their lines aloud, he felt sure of one thing—

He wanted to act again.

With determination, he stepped out of his room to tell his aunt and Taehee.

But as soon as he saw them laughing happily in the living room, Taeju rushed into the bathroom instead.

Feeling suffocated, he splashed cold water on his face.

The face staring back at him in the mirror looked especially pale.

Lee Junghyup asked worriedly,

[What’s wrong?]

“I’m losing my mind. I just can’t bring myself to tell Auntie. Telling her that I’m choosing acting over family… it’s too hard.”

[Why are you trying to choose between acting and family? You can have both.]

“Auntie is like my mom. When my parents died, I could barely speak. I started seeing ghosts, and I was nothing but a wreck. I thought about ending my life so many times… because I felt like it was my fault my parents died. Even in that horrible situation, Auntie never gave up on me. So how can I be selfish and pursue acting…”

Acting—it was something he both loved and resented.

As a child actor, he had truly enjoyed performing, but after his parents’ deaths, the guilt had made him suppress his passion.

Yet now, his heart was pounding again.

The thought of standing in front of a camera and acting brought him alive.

Lee Junghyup could sense Taeju’s inner turmoil.

This kid didn’t know a thing.

His aunt only wanted him to be happy.

[What do you think your aunt is?]

“Huh?”

Startled, Taeju looked at him.

Lee Junghyup offered him gentle advice.

[You said she’s like your mom. Every mom will support her child’s choices, no matter what. And if it’s their dream, even more so.]

Those words jolted Taeju awake.

Family and acting—both were precious dreams to him.

He didn’t want to lose either.

“Alright. No more hesitation.”

Taeju left the bathroom, grabbed the script from his room, and went to sit beside his aunt and Taehee on the couch.

“Auntie, Taehee. I have something to say.”

“Why do you sound so serious?”

Taeju handed the script to his aunt and said,

“I’m thinking about starting acting again. I have a shoot tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, Aunt. But I really want to act. So… can I do it?”

There was a moment of silence.

Both Lee Junghyup and Taeju were tense.

As his aunt skimmed through the script, her gaze shifted toward Taeju.

“Taeju, why didn’t you say this earlier? I’ve been waiting for you to tell me.”

His aunt grabbed his hand tightly.

“I want you to chase your dream.”

Those words unlocked the chains around Taeju’s heart.

The desire to act, which he had firmly hidden out of love for his family, was finally allowed to come to the surface.

And now, his aunt was giving him permission.

“You don’t have to act like an adult, Taeju. You’ve been taking care of us. You’ve spent your personal time with us. Don’t worry about it anymore.”

“Aunt, I really like doing that…”

“Of course, family is important to you. But acting is just as important, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been practicing acting in the park every day, right?”

Taeju looked at her, surprised.

His aunt smiled mischievously.

“From now on, don’t hide and do it in secret. Do it out in the open so Taehee and I can watch too.”

“Watch what?”

Taehee, sitting next to them, beamed with excitement.

Taeju hesitated, then spoke gently to Taehee.

“Taehee, would it be okay if you went to the zoo with mom tomorrow and I could go with you later?”

“Why? I was looking forward to going with you.”

“I’ve got something I want to do. It’s acting.”

“Acting?”

Taehee looked at him with bright, curious eyes, a little nervous.

“I got a chance to act tomorrow.”

“Just tomorrow?”

“Yeah, just tomorrow. So, Taehee, I’ve done a lot of things you wanted before. Would it be alright if you supported me in doing something I want this time?”

Was he asking for too much from someone so young?

Taeju nervously awaited Taehee’s response.

At that moment, his aunt whispered something into Taehee’s ear.

Taehee’s previously confused face lit up with a bright smile.

“Hyung, you’ve found your dream! If that’s the reason, I understand. Be careful and have fun!”

Taeju blinked in surprise at the unexpected support.

“Huh?”

“You’re going to read this ‘script’ to others tomorrow, right?”

Taehee gave him a thumbs up.

“Good luck, Oppa! If you read it like you did with the picture books to me, others will like it too! Oh, but don’t forget, I like you the most!”

Taeju felt a lump in his throat at his cousin’s encouragement.

He realized that he had been thinking all wrong.

Blinded by guilt and regret, he had forgotten the warmth from his aunt and Taehee.

His family was his number one fan, supporting his dream.

Taeju hugged his aunt and Taehee tightly.

There was so much he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out.

A flood of emotions blocked his throat.

“Have fun. Do it with excitement, because it’s something you love.”

His aunt’s gentle voice echoed in his ear.

“Oppa and your sister-in-law would have been really happy to see you acting too.”