That day I met you.

Perry, do you remember the old fountain that’s now closed? Not the fountain we renovated as upperclassmen, but the ash-gray three-tiered fountain in the corner of the backyard. Already abandoned by that time, without a drop of water flowing.

You were standing there, acting ‘Otium.’ The protagonist of a lyrical play who drowns at the end. I don’t know what lines you recited that day. At that time, I hadn’t fully mastered the kingdom’s language.

But…… you were there. And I was there too.

Each time the clouds passed the sun, the intermittently shining light seemed like a spotlight arranged just for you. At first, yes. It wasn’t a profound feeling. Probably just an impression like ‘she’s good on her own.’ But strangely…… I couldn’t look away. Even though I had just resolved to go outside and smoke.

That fountain was a stage for one person. You instantly turned a boy steeped in rebellion into an audience member.

I wanted to understand what your lines meant. I became curious about your role, and wanted to ask whether the moisture filling your black eyes was an intentional technique or just because the sunlight was harsh. In the end, I couldn’t ask—

But at least one thing was clear.

What I desired.

I wished for you to be eternally brilliant on stage, and for me to be the first and last audience member.

Perhaps you’ll laugh and dismiss it as a joke. How could a moment not even an hour long shake a person so much?

But Perry, you came to Roju because of a play you saw just once in your life. So wouldn’t the opposite be possible too? That day you already completely]

[At school, I was always floating separately. At least that’s how I felt. The classes were overwhelming, and the children were quick to mock my awkward pronunciation whenever I opened my mouth.

I often visited the mail room even knowing there were no letters for me. Just in case I had missed one. Of course, neither my father, who went from party to party, nor my mother, who had become too geographically distant, ever inquired about my well-being.

But when I was in the same classroom as you, it was okay. You probably didn’t even know the small transfer student existed, but……

The philosophy teacher always made you read the textbook. Whether it was because your pronunciation was clear or your volume was rich, while I found other students’ speech too high or fast to understand, I could comprehend everything you said.

Perhaps that’s why I listened to you more attentively. Or maybe I came to understand even those difficult terms because I focused only on you.]

[This might sound creepy, but I kept looking at you. Whenever I saw your bright brown hair, I unconsciously turned my head. Your cheeks were always flushed. You didn’t mind taking care of rabbits, were quiet, sometimes clumsy…… Your attire, changing slightly with the seasons, was so cute]

[Following the direction you approached from made the back of my neck hot. Even just seeing my reflection in the window did that.]

[From some point, we started running into each other quite often, didn’t we? Outside regular classes, in the mail room, cafeteria, or library. You would open your eyes wide and smile, saying we met again. I played along saying ‘Yeah, that’s strange,’ but…… we met often because I was hovering around you.

Before speaking to you, I was always busy fixing my hair. I tried hard not to let a single strand stick out while taking deep breaths. I often found myself holding my breath when next to you. I bit my tongue gently to avoid saying something wrong. I put on insignificant airs trying to look natural.]

[Once you asked me to be your partner. Remember that day in the empty classroom when I became your lover? With my inadequate skills, I put in my personal feelings, but when I saw your eyes, I wanted to run away. Fortunately, I didn’t. That was the extent of my courage. Just enough not to run away when you approached.

Later, I couldn’t even do that……

Sometimes I wonder if my cowardice was because I used up all my courage that summer day.

It’s a fanciful excuse, I know.]

[I’m sorry for running away.

I…… should have written you an apology letter first, not a fan letter. Saying ‘I didn’t plan this from the beginning’ would only make me a coward, as you said. This isn’t the first time.

But you deserve to know how pathetic I am.

I’ll tell you what I’ve been continuously postponing. What I’ve been blindly covering up even after meeting again…… about the funeral.

The news of my father’s death itself…… wasn’t that surprising. After separating from my mother, my father lived even more destructively. He didn’t take care of himself. Honestly, I had speculated he might die from alcohol poisoning. I just didn’t expect it to be realized so suddenly.

My mother didn’t come until the last day. What surprised me more was that fact. Not because it was ‘the funeral of someone she once loved.’ I was there. Despite having a son…… my mother didn’t send a single letter. Oh, half a year later, she did transfer a copyright title to my name, saying it was in lieu of child support, but anyway.

By the last day of the funeral, I found my surname ridiculous. ‘Jin,’ I mean. My mother’s family name—only alien in the kingdom—a trace of a foreigner.

When I told my grandmother I wanted to change my surname, she clicked her tongue, asking why I was doing this after everyone was dead. I found myself a bit ridiculous too. Why now, when I didn’t even have a particularly special relationship with my father. Nor was I close enough with my mother to maintain loyalty to her.

In the end, I’m a person who is neither here nor there. Indecisive and slow, satisfying no one.

This excuse is getting long. This dragging story can’t justify why I avoided you when you came all the way to the outskirts during the semester. Much less explain why I left school without a word.

To be completely honest,

I didn’t dare to face you.

I know you waited a long time at the funeral. Della was the only one my age there…… but I would have recognized you the moment you came in anyway. Even so…… I couldn’t. I circled the temple courtyard over and over but couldn’t bring myself to approach you.

I just didn’t have the courage to face you. I was fine until I saw you, but the moment I saw your face, everything became not okay.

I’m really pathetic, aren’t I?

I could have explained afterward. I could have told you I was moving because I had to stay with relatives, or if I lacked even that courage, I could have at least sent a letter later. But as you know, I didn’t.

I didn’t want to reveal that I was enduring unbearable confusion, that I was such an inadequate person. I felt like you, unlike others, would see right through me. ……While I didn’t mind if others knew, I absolutely didn’t want you to find out.

I made the worst choice because I didn’t want to look pathetic.]

[I had no intention of writing to you. What nerve would I have? After leaving without a single letter, I should rightfully bear the consequences whether you remembered me as a d*mn bastard or forgot me completely. I didn’t intend to…… interfere in your life like this.

But what use are thoughts and plans? In the end, I crossed so many “don’t” lines and made you sad again.

It was my selfishness from the beginning. I really wanted to tell you how radiant you were on stage. In that moment, it was the pure enthusiasm of an audience member. Though you might doubt it, it’s true. Even if I can’t be your friend anymore, no one can deny that I’m your ‘fan.’ Even you, Perry, couldn’t doubt that.

So I sent it. Confident that I had hidden well. Because I didn’t write a single letter of my name. I never imagined you would still remember my handwriting. Anyway, a reply came…… and what happened afterward completely exceeded my expectations.

I didn’t expect our pen pal relationship to continue so steadily. Though I suggested exchanging letters, my purpose wasn’t to share an ordinary friendship. As you’ve probably noticed by now, I just…… wanted to give you something. I hoped you wouldn’t stop acting, and there was no shield as useful as ‘friend’ for giving you things.

It’s really impure.

And ugly.

After receiving your first reply—that terrible news that you had no plans to be on stage for a while—I suffered from horrible delusions for some time. That I might never see actor Perry Humble again. What can an audience member do? Just wait endlessly. You weren’t affiliated with a theater company or agency then, so there wasn’t even a public channel to inquire through.