Jangeungyeol

1953. Seoul, ravaged by war, was quieter not because of the collapsed buildings, but because of the people whose hopes had crumbled into futility. Streets where acrid smoke, ash-gray air, and poverty had become daily life. The nation, once united in spirit, was now split into North and South, farther apart than strangers.

Eun-gyeol lived through that era too. Parents were always absent in his life. His mother vanished immediately after giving birth, and his father was found cold and lifeless one winter day. But Eun-gyeol had no time to grieve. A life without parents was simply 'a life that never had them'—the only thing that mattered was survival: dragging this body, which had nowhere to lean, through life somehow.

...Since he lacked the courage to die, he led his thin body toward the 'Cheonghwa Troupe,' one of the few places that hadn't completely collapsed. His intention was just to perform some emotional theatrics and scrounge for a meal—but they told him there were no female roles, so he had to take them instead.

A striped jeogori and a red chima (skirt), worn for the first time in his life. Clumsily setting a wig on his head, he rushed onto the stage and squeezed out the only thing he knew how to do: tears. He was good at pretending to be the most pitiful person in the world, so who could possibly know the lies that poverty had meticulously stacked up inside him? As he shed tear after tear, crying out desperately, "Please, don't go…," the audience held its breath.

That was the beginning. It was the first moment everyone looked at him, in a world where no one had ever seen him before.

It was fun at first. Even though it wasn't the real him, the audience applauded, calling him beautiful, and within the troupe, he quickly rose to become the female lead. Envy and gossip followed, but so what? Were they prettier than him? What a joke. ...But when did it start? He didn't know where the real 'him' had gone.

The audience admired the tears he shed, but they didn't care who the owner of those tears was. They were just the tears of Seong Chunhyang, who had endured all the world's hardships. Whether he was sincere or real—it didn't matter who he was. All that mattered was crying beautifully.

On that stage, he gradually became transparent, losing himself while acting out the lives of others. But he couldn't stop. To eat and live, he had to keep doing this charade. And so, he disappeared a little more each day.

Someone, please look at me, not the role... look at the me hidden inside Jang Eun-gyeol.