Chapter 48…
Video Star Appearance! (2):
“Ah… now that I think about it, if I had at least gone into a temple, I might’ve cultivated myself a bit. Never thought about changing professions.”
“Puhahaha!”
“What, you think anyone can just waltz into a temple?”
Everyone burst out laughing again.
Then, Park Gura—who had been quietly listening from one side—shot me a disrespectful look and moved his lips.
Right, that guy’s role was always the contrarian, wasn’t it?
“But why were you a beggar? You’re so talented. You could’ve tried other things earlier. Isn’t it a matter of willpower?”
“It’s not really about willpower.”
That’s something I’ve heard a lot.
“Why beg at such a young age? Go get a job, earn money.”
If someone said that while tossing me a bit of cash, I’d just smile and say, ‘Yes, yes, I’ll work hard.’
But the ones I hated most? The ones who nag without giving a cent.
Anyway, I’ve heard it enough times before. Even saw it in some comments recently.
Stuff like, “Is being a beggar something to brag about?”
“Eh. If it’s not a willpower problem, then what is it?”
“It’s prejudice against a profession. In the right circumstances, begging can become the only job someone can do… you could even call it self-employment?”
“Puhahaha!”
The studio roared again.
And honestly, it is self-employment.
Except, well… no taxes.
“Sure, if you call it a job, it makes sense, but it’s not a good one, is it? Why’d you do it?”
“I told you, I had no other choice.”
“In that old movie Silmido, there’s a famous line: ‘That’s just a cowardly excuse!’ This sounds like one too.”
He smiled smugly, looking like he’d won. Like he was daring me: ‘Got anything else to say?’
Ugh. I really didn’t want to go here… but fine, the editors can handle it.
“When I was young, I was in a mental hospital. Then when the hospital bills piled up, I got kicked out—and suddenly, I was on the streets.”
Everyone froze.
“You think an orphanage would’ve treated me well when I couldn’t even stay in a hospital? I wandered around, trying to survive. Then I begged. That became my job.”
“Uh… hmm…”
Was he buffering now? Fine, maybe I should explain more clearly.
“It wasn’t some other issue. When I first entered middle school, I was in a car accident during a family trip. My mom, dad, and grandma… they all died protecting me. After that, I went into the hospital. The… well, the mental shock was just too much.”
“Ugh!”
Park Gura looked shaken.
No way I was stopping here.
“Up until then, I still had my uncle, but after the hospital bills piled up, I got kicked out. Then, before I knew it, everyone had emigrated overseas.”
Hmm? Now everyone looked like they were listening carefully.
No ‘cut’ signal yet, so I guess they wanted me to keep going.
“Anyway, that’s how it went. But I’m fine now. Look, I’m even on TV like this.”
“Wait… this makes me look like the bad guy! Hey, cut this part out! I swear I didn’t know! Woo Soo-han, I was wrong. I’m sorry!”
Ah, he’d realized it now—realized I’d just buried him.
But since the mood was still good, I decided to cover it up.
“Hey, it’s fine. When a kid throws a rock at a frog, do you think he expects it to die? He throws it thinking it’s play. It’s okay.”
Everyone laughed while Park Gura cried.
Meanwhile, the PD clutched his hair, agonizing.
How much of this should he keep?
Then suddenly, Park Gura leapt up, strode over, and knelt down in front of me.
“I was wrong. Please forgive me.”
“I absolve you of your sins. Hehehe.”
He hadn’t known, so I let it slide.
When I said that, Park Gura looked desperately at the PD again.
“If this airs as-is, I’m dead. Save me, you bastards!”
The PD shouted back.
“I’m losing my mind here too! If I cut it, it’s a waste. If I keep it, Gura won’t be back next week!”
The whole studio burst out laughing again.
That was enough to earn my pay for the day. Smiling in satisfaction, I leaned back in my chair.
“Huh?”
Then Daesung-hyung was looking at me with sad eyes.
“What?”
“I’ll take better care of you.”
“……”
Hmm… I guess that’s good?
Maybe this is why people share their tragic backstories.
Honestly, mine probably ranks pretty high in the misery contest.
Not the very top, though.
The world’s seen worse.
But I can speak so easily about it for one reason:
To me, misery is just the past. Not the present.
Right now, I’m happy.
The mood was definitely good.
Woo Soo-han had done better than expected.
Nothing bad about it, really.
Whether he planned it or not, he even wrapped up his old beggar life neatly.
But from Yoo-chun’s perspective, he couldn’t help but worry.
Because no matter what, gossip would follow—100 percent.
Later, in the studio, Park Gura once again apologized to Woo Soo-han with an embarrassed face.
“Sorry about that. The cue card just said, ‘With this talent, why did you ever beg? Why not act from the start?’ I tried to make it funny, but messed up.”
“It’s fine. This isn’t live, right? You’ll edit it like magic.”
“I swear I didn’t know. I apologize.”
Soo-han clasped hands with him.
Yoo-chun, seeing that, quickly pulled Daesung and Soo-han outside.
“Good work, both of you.”
“Let’s feed Soo-han something good.”
“Oh! Hyung, I wanna try the cafeteria here! They say it’s delicious!”
“It’s closed now. Look at the time. How about hot gukbap and some boiled pork instead?”
“Thank you!”
As they got into the car, Yoo-chun asked, voice tinged with worry:
“You okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“Talking about your past like that…”
He couldn’t help but worry—Soo-han spoke about things far too casually for their weight.
“It’s fine. I needed to get it out eventually. And this way, it’ll hit those trolls who leave hate comments without thinking.”
Yoo-chun gave a strained smile.
“Yeah, but a lot of people will take it the wrong way too. Some will say you’re just milking sympathy.”
He said it cautiously, afraid Soo-han might be hurt.
But Soo-han’s reaction was surprising.
“Eh, isn’t that obvious?”
“Huh?”
Both Daesung and Yoo-chun looked at him in shock.
“Those trolls don’t want my explanation. Right?”
“True.”
“They’ll actually be thrilled. ‘Let’s see what excuse he makes!’ Then they’ll dissect every word, twist it, cut it out of context, and recycle it into more hate.”
Exactly.
No troll leaves neutral comments.
So why do they do it?
To vent stress.
They get high off the dopamine rush from spewing insults—it’s addictive.
In other words—
“They just want to insult people.”
“Right.”
That’s trolling.
Reasoning with trolls is pointless.
Only lawsuits matter.
Of course, not everyone is like that.
Some realize they were wrong and admit it.
But those types rarely write full-on hate in the first place.
They just give harsh criticism.
Real trolls? They either act like ‘didn’t ask, don’t care,’ nitpick with bizarre standards, or twist things into false equivalences without ever apologizing.
“What I mean by having an impact isn’t on the trolls—it’s on everyone else. When they see hate comments, more people will defend me. And to shield someone properly, they need to know why.”
“That’s true.”
Exactly.
No point convincing trolls.
But if more people stand up for me, that’s worth it.
“At least some people will feel sympathy about my past. As for the bad guys—let them do what they do. The good part is, more supportive comments will show up, and seeing those makes me happy.”
“That’s… a unique way of thinking.”
Daesung looked at me curiously.
Even Manager Park gave me a surprised look.
What? Isn’t this normal?
“Why are you guys acting like that? You read comments to see the hate? I read them to see how many allies I’ve got!”
“What, you think it’s Go? Like watching your territory grow?”
“That’s exactly it!”
They stared at me like I was some alien.
What, is hate more important than support?
No way.
Those people will hate me no matter what.
What matters are the ones who defend me.
Oh, and harsh criticism isn’t the same as hate. Don’t mix the two.
“When you’ve lived at rock bottom, you learn to see things positively—or you won’t survive.”
And truly, you won’t.
I’ve seen plenty die because they lost that will.
Among the homeless, a lot drift into that vacant-eyed stare until they’re gone.
I was a beggar, yes, but I never lived like that.
I couldn’t—not when I thought of my family.
Not that being a beggar was anything to be proud of.
I just started doing it to survive.
And once I got used to it… well, it wasn’t the worst life.
Kim Daesung finally understood why Soo-han had always seemed different, even though he’d lived as a beggar.
“If you don’t survive, you either die or end up a shell of a human. Would I be here if I’d chosen that path?”
“True.”
“So I just listen when people care, and ignore it when they don’t.”
Daesung felt a strange, sage-like wisdom in Soo-han’s casual words.
“That’s a great saying. But… how do you tell the difference?”
He was genuinely curious.
“When I was a beggar, there were only two types: People who gave me money and nagged—they cared. People who nagged without giving? They just hated me.”
“Puhahaha!”
Daesung burst out laughing again.
Manager Park, at the wheel, clicked his tongue in disbelief.
“You’d be good at public lectures someday.”
“Right?”
Daesung thought: He’d lived longer, but when it came to hardship, he couldn’t compare.
And hardship… turns survivors into sages.
