Top Star by Luck

Chapter 55

[Pain Killer].

In Lee Min Ki’s opinion, it was a work that no one with a normal taste would ever find enjoyable.

By “normal taste,” he meant the general public’s preference.

You know, those kinds of movies.

The ones where the director seems to hate the world and deliberately excludes anything the public might like.

Pain Killer was one of those films.

[The director seems too psycho.]

[Ah… it hurts too much to even watch.]

[I couldn’t last an hour in the theater.]

[I wish the main character could be a little happier, but it seems the director has no intention of that.]

It was a film meticulously crafted to betray the audience’s expectations.

For two hours straight, it relentlessly depicted the downfall of the protagonist, a successful person in society, and it was an excruciating experience.

The protagonist, who once lived a life full of love, was abandoned by the public due to a false news report, then by his workplace, and finally by his family.

In the end, even his freedom was stripped away.

It was a work focused solely on condemning the irresponsible reporting of the media.

From start to finish, it seemed to aim solely at tearing the viewer’s heart apart.

‘Watching this feels like torture.’

From a commercial perspective, it would’ve been a buried film.

The problem was, the director who made it was far too famous.

Manuel Wagner.

He was a legendary director, with three of his films ranked in the top 100 of the world’s greatest movies.

‘It’s even his final work.’

That film was his final piece before he passed away.

Perhaps because it was his last, he poured 140% of his personal preferences into it.

Wagner was already famous for making intense films, but Pain Killer was raw even by his standards.

It was a film that even seasoned cinephiles would burn their tongues on and spit out.

Ordinarily, no one would have a reason to watch it.

Of course, Lee Min Ki was an exception.

‘Kim Tae Yang, you know your movies.’

He was the kind of person who could enjoy any film as long as it had one good point, no matter how terrible the rest was.

Even a rotten fish was still a fish, and since it was a Manuel Wagner film, the quality was impeccable.

[Society, so pathetic, so cinematic.]

He had been watching, immersed from a distance.

“Ah.”

Kim Tae Yang seemed to have just realized Lee Min Ki’s presence and glanced his way.

The expression of awe he had worn just moments ago had vanished, leaving behind a stiff, expressionless face.

‘Why do I care?’

Lee Min Ki cleared his throat and spoke.

“You seem to like this movie.”

“…Do you know it?”

In the next moment, a clear answer flowed from Lee Min Ki’s mouth.

“Isn’t it Pain Killer? Manuel Wagner’s last film. Not many people even know it was released, though.”

Kim Tae Yang’s eyes flickered slightly at that moment.

He hadn’t expected him to recognize it.

But even that shock paled in comparison to what came next.

“I really enjoyed watching it.”

With that one comment, Kim Tae Yang’s pupils trembled.

The expression in his eyes said it all.

‘He enjoyed Pain Kille*? Is this guy out of his mind?’

It was the same thought that had crossed Lee Min Ki’s mind earlier.

The fact that he had even watched a film notorious for being as torturous as it was, let alone found it enjoyable, was astonishing.

‘Is he a masochist?’

The suspicion Lee Min Ki had entertained earlier was now being repeated in Kim Tae Yang’s mind.

Even though Manuel Wagner was a famous director, he had never met anyone in his life who actually enjoyed this film.

‘No matter how I look at it, he’s just pretending to know the title because of the director’s name. Unless he actually knows the plot.’

Kim Tae Yang knew that Lee Min Ki’s ability to pick up on things was extraordinary.

After all, during the JC audition, he had smiled his way out of the judges’ traps.

But…

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen it.”

With the next comment, Kim Tae Yang had no choice but to reevaluate his opinion of Lee Min Ki.

“Isn’t this the scene where the protagonist gets betrayed by his trusted boss?”

“That’s…”

“The boss came to him under the pretense of clearing up the misunderstanding, asking for an interview, but he was really just trying to get a juicy scoop for an article, right?”

“…”

“The scene where they’re shown through the glass window together, that’s foreshadowing. The physical door is open, but the mental door isn’t. The protagonist senses it ahead of time and kicks him out.”

Lee Min Ki began explaining details of the film that only those who had closely analyzed it would know.

He even dragged a chair over to the living room and continued speaking.

“At the start of the film, the building was shot from a low angle, and you could see a lot of the sky. Back then, society was portrayed as a warm place. But now… the buildings are surrounding the protagonist like a curtain. They’re pressuring him.”

Something strange was happening.

It was odd enough that he had watched the movie, but wasn’t he being a bit too detailed?

Kim Tae Yang, still harboring some doubt, asked cautiously.

“Then, what about the oatmeal the protagonist is eating right now?”

It was a trap.

It was a question designed to trip up even someone who had just casually watched the film.

But if Lee Min Ki answered this correctly, it meant he was truly on the same level.

With half-expectation, half-doubt, Kim Tae Yang waited for the next response.

“Oh, that.”

Lee Min Ki answered without hesitation.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t mean anything? Really?”

Kim Tae Yang raised an eyebrow, as if pressing for more details.

“Isn’t it usually interpreted that the protagonist, who once insisted on a fancy diet, is now falling into ruin, symbolized by him eating oatmeal?”

“Well, that’s the usual interpretation.”

But even in the face of this probing, Lee Min Ki smiled and calmly answered.

“But it’s just something the critics added in later. In reality, the director just liked oatmeal, so he put it in.”

“…”

“Manuel Wagner loved oatmeal as a child, but his parents didn’t let him eat it. So, after he became independent, he practically lived on it. He even ate it on set.”

It was a totally unexpected answer.

Normally, one would assume every moment in a film was intentional, like the workings of a finely tuned clock, with even fleeting objects carrying the director’s message.

But to hear that something had no meaning at all?

Especially from a director as renowned as Manuel Wagner?

Who would believe that?

However…

‘He’s right.’

It was the correct answer.

An undeniably pinpoint-accurate answer that spread a quiet sense of admiration within Kim Tae Yang’s chest like watercolor soaking into paper.

‘How does he know this? Even most people who’ve seen the movie don’t realize that—it’s such a widely misunderstood point.’

Anyone who had only casually watched Pain Killer would have no idea.

Those who had watched it deeply would have argued that the oatmeal symbolized the protagonist’s deprivation.

But those who truly knew Pain Killer would say there was no meaning behind it.

Lee Min Ki had given the third answer.

That meant…

“You really know your films.”

It meant that Lee Min Ki could be his friend.

At least when it came to movies.

“I didn’t expect you to have seen this, Mr. Min Ki.”

“Likewise. I’ve never met anyone who said they enjoyed this movie.”

“Hmm, all of Manuel Wagner’s films are fun. The quality is just on a different level.”

“Definitely. The attention to detail in every prop is amazing. Didn’t The New York Times say something like… what was it again? There’s a famous quote.”

“You mean, ‘Wagner’s films must be paused every 0.5 seconds to fully appreciate them’?”

“Ah, yes, that’s the one. Even films that were considered flops get re-evaluated after 10 years.”

Kim Tae Yang nodded and said,

“Some people said that Wagner left a mess behind with Pain Killer, but I disagree. I actually think this film is the essence of his work.”

“Exactly. Facing death, he could pour his entire soul into it.”

The two, who had barely spoken for the past week, were now having an animated conversation.

It was all thanks to movie analysis.

‘No wonder he’s such a good actor. The depth of his analysis is on another level. How many movies has he watched?’

Kim Tae Yang was reevaluating Lee Min Ki internally.

For the past week, he had lived with Lee Min Ki, and honestly, he had been a bit disappointed.

For all his acting talent, his daily routine didn’t seem particularly remarkable.

In fact, he had even wondered if Lee Min Ki wasn’t being too laid-back at home.

But finally, he had found it.

The source of Lee Min Ki’s skill was…

‘His output comes from an overwhelming amount of input.’

It was input.

At least, that’s how it felt to anyone who talked to him.

It was almost as if Lee Min Ki spent 30 hours a day watching movies—there was no end to the input.

It was like listening to an ancient scholar, with classics flowing effortlessly from his mouth.

“Wagner, Stendera, and Betclo. These three are the pillars of the German film industry. And all three of them were in a master-apprentice relationship, which is why their films share certain codes.”

“Like how Wagner’s oatmeal appears in Betclo’s films?”

“Yes, it’s not like knowing it changes the film itself, but it makes it more enjoyable if you do know, right?”

Movie buffs have always had an easy time getting along.

No matter how much their personalities, tastes, or lifestyles might clash, once they started talking about films, their conversations could last all night.

The more obscure the film, the stronger this bond became, almost like a process of mutual recognition.

That’s exactly what was happening between the two.

“Mr. Tae Yang, did you notice that low-angle shot in that scene? Usually, a group shot like that would be done with a high-angle.”

“Hmm, you’re right. Why did they shoot it like that?”

“They only showed the protagonist’s legs to emphasize his presence. It makes him seem dominant.”

“Ah.”

“But using a selective focus like that makes it hard to show depth, so they actually filmed the other people separately and composited them in with a blur effect.”

“They handled it so naturally. How did you know that, Mr. Min Ki?”

“It’s in the documentary.”

Their conversation continued.

It flowed effortlessly.

Starting with Wagner, it moved through Europe, then Hollywood, and eventually onto discussions about domestic directors.

From there, it turned into stories from film sets.

And then into personal tastes.

It was an endless cycle.

“Mr. Tae Yang, we seem to have similar tastes in movies.”

“Seems that way. I thought I’d be the only one watching films like this for the rest of my life, but here we are, by chance.”

“Right? Most people just don’t get it.”

“They always pick weird stuff whenever I try to watch something with them.”

“Ah, this kind of thing is just for us.”

At some point, they had even begun joking around, and soon, there was nothing left to say.

“Well, shall we grab a late-night snack?”

“A late-night snack sounds great. I was just getting hungry… has it already been that long?”

Lee Min Ki’s face was filled with surprise.

They had started talking about movies for what felt like a short while, but two hours had already passed.

“What should we order?”

“I’ll make something.”

At that moment, Kim Tae Yang headed to the kitchen and tied an apron around his waist.

Then he took out shrimp and garlic from the fridge and started heating up some olive oil.

He was making gambas al ajillo.

A Spanish dish known for being easy to make despite its fancy appearance.

‘It’s a bit high in calories, but… today’s cheat day. And it smells amazing.’

As the fragrant aroma wafted from the kitchen, Lee Min Ki realized something.

‘This feels… comfortable.’

The house felt comfortable.

When he had left the house that morning, it had felt like a concrete cage, but now, it was cozy, like a hideout.

Only one thing had changed between morning and night.

His relationship with the other person.

It seemed that who you lived with really was the most important thing about a home.

‘I should watch movies more often.’

Lee Min Ki hummed softly to himself.

Kim Tae Yang had seemed like such a stiff person, but now that they had found common ground, he didn’t seem that way at all.

In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Who else would get this excited talking about Manuel Wagner?

Kim Tae Yang was definitely someone special.

He might even be a connection he’d never find again in his lifetime.

‘Wait, maybe I should invite others to watch movies with us.’

That didn’t seem like a bad idea.

It might even be fun to invite his old classmates to join JC.

For a moment, his imagination ran wild.

He imagined hosting regular movie screenings and discussions in this house, using it as a hideout.

Lost in that fantasy, he barely noticed when Kim Tae Yang’s cooking was done.

“It’s ready. Come and eat.”

At almost the same time, Lee Min Ki’s phone buzzed.

“Just a moment, let me check this first.”

The message he received at that late hour wasn’t exactly the most welcome one.

[Hello.

This is a message from Studio Sailing.

Congratulations, Actor Lee Min Ki.

You have been selected for the lead role in the Café del Día audition.]