There Are Four Top Idol Uncles - Chapter 194

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Part 2, Episode 20
“Do you happen to be in any clubs?”
At Yewon’s question, Eun-oh hesitated, his expression reluctant, before finally speaking.
“The Film Production Club.”
Oh. Perfect. That makes things faster.
“Is there an opening?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“I had a feeling you might be the president of that club. Am I wrong? If I am, I’ll ask someone else.”
“….”
She was right. Spot on.
Wherever he went, he always seemed to end up in charge of something.
Yewon smiled knowingly.
“So is there an opening?”
“First-year recruitment starts soon—”
“No, not for first-years. For a third-year position.”
At the mention of “third-year,” Yewon watched Eun-oh’s face grow even colder, if that were possible.
“If you’re looking for Mun Hyeok’s position through me, you’re mistaken.”
Eun-oh said this, then added with a bitter smile.
“Mun Hyeok ran away because of me.”
“!”
At his unexpected words, Yewon’s eyes widened.
Mun Hyeok left the Film Production Club because of Eun-oh?
That was truly surprising.
But then again.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Yewon spoke with conviction.
She didn’t know the details, but something felt wrong about that explanation.
She’d seen the way Mun Hyeok looked at Eun-oh back then.
“People’s hearts change. Right now, Mun Hyeok wants to return to the Film Production Club.”
Mun Hyeok had definitely been sorry toward Eun-oh.
The one pushing him away now was Eun-oh.
“Why? Because you’re joining?”
Despite his far harsher tone than expected, Yewon didn’t falter.
She’d anticipated a reaction at least this intense.
“No. It’s because Mun Hyeok is someone who loves film.”
And she’d prepared her answer too.
“From the moment I first saw him when I was seven until now, he’s always been someone who loves acting and film more than anyone else. So there’s no way he’d want to join any club besides the Film Production Club.”
“….”
Though she still didn’t fully understand the situation, and despite his strained relations with classmates, and despite having more than enough means to transfer schools.
There was only one reason Mun Hyeok remained at this school.
That he loved film and acting so deeply he was willing to endure all of it.
So Yewon could be certain.
That Mun Hyeok wanted to return to the Film Production Club.
“So, is there an opening?”
* * *
Department of Theater and Film, third-year Creative Experiential Activity Period.
Eun-oh held a film camera quietly, searching for a subject.
The camera had been passed down from his grandfather.
He’d cherished it, and then given it to Eun-oh in his father’s stead.
His father, Director Yu Jeong-seok, was both quietly proud and somewhat wistful about it.
“It seems Grandfather recognizes you. That’s no easy feat. Ha.”
He’d added that remark when he gave it to him.
When Eun-oh heard those words, he felt nothing but pride. It felt like recognition that he too could become a great director, just like his grandfather and father.
“Hey, Eun-oh. What are you planning to shoot?”
Someone beside him spoke up, breaking his train of thought.
“…What I see.”
Without even registering who had spoken to him, Eun-oh raised the camera to his eye and answered.
What he saw.
A camera doesn’t lie.
It reveals the person behind it entirely.
“What the hell is that? You set it up and then hog all the praise like you’re the only one doing amazing work.”
Eun-oh turned away from the complaint coming from beside him.
Inside the small Viewfinder, a portion of the School Building came into frame.
Eun-oh lowered the camera slowly.
The camera descended….
Down further still….
Until it captured a single Classroom.
Second floor.
The Classroom where that kid, who kept needling at his nerves, sat oblivious, listening to the lesson.
Without thinking, Eun-oh pressed the Shutter with a soft click.
Whether light was flooding in too heavily.
Or leaking out in abundance—he couldn’t say. But for that Classroom, he took the shot.
‘A Film Camera is far more temperamental than digital. Too much light and it won’t capture properly; too little and it won’t work at all.’
He recalled the first time his Grandfather had taught him to use this camera.
It must have been when he was about ten years old.
‘That’s why you must learn to read light, Eun-oh. It’s an ability any Director must master. You need to understand how the light beating down right now will shape your scene.’
From that day forward, Eun-oh had instinctively chased only ‘the right light’—never too bright, never too dim.
And he would show the photographs he’d taken in such places to his Grandfather with pride.
No blown-out portions, no crushed shadows.
Images that came out perfectly balanced.
Yet his Grandfather looked at those photographs and laughed softly.
‘A perfect photograph.’
At first, he’d thought it was praise.
‘But it means nothing.’
His Grandfather pondered for a moment, then pulled out certain photographs to show him.
And that day.
Eun-oh truly understood for the first time what ‘an imperfect photograph that draws your eye again and again’ really meant.
‘You must learn to read light, Eun-oh. But don’t try to control it. Learn to accept it. Because sometimes that light can lead you to an entirely different world.’
‘A different world?’
‘Yes. Light carries you to scenes you never intended, and they can be far more radiant than anything you’d planned for.’
His Grandfather pointed to one photograph as he spoke.
A photograph of his Grandmother praying, veiled beneath Stained Glass through which light cascaded in a dark Cathedral.
‘Sometimes I wonder, you see. Isn’t a Director simply someone who captures what was always meant to exist in the world? No matter how much I believe I planned and created something… there are things so breathtakingly radiant that I can’t help but question whether I truly intended them at all….’
That day, Eun-oh felt as though he were catching a glimpse of the most secret secret of Yu Jin-hwa, the Director revered as a master by all who knew of him.
For Yu Jin-hwa, who carried immense pride in her own work and trusted her abilities absolutely, to speak that way…
Perhaps it was the first and only time in her life she’d ever said such a thing.
That’s what Eun-oh thought.
‘No. Mun Hyeok loves film, that’s all.’
When that kid had said that.
That was when Eun-oh had found himself thinking of this Film Camera without meaning to.
The quiet, translucent light of early morning.
He’d wondered what it would look like if he photographed this kid shining like that.
‘So… is there room?’
If he’d captured that kid speaking those words, he might have understood then.
The meaning of what his Grandfather had told him.
No. What was he thinking now?
Eun-oh shook his head.
Why would he photograph someone so clueless, who only knew how to make demands of him?
He brushed his hair back irritably.
That kid took Mun Hyeok’s side without even knowing what had happened between them.
Displeasure and annoyance rose all the way to his throat.
“Eun-oh~ Did you capture anything good?”
Then a cloying voice called out to him.
Who was that again.
Too lazy even to think about it, Eun-oh simply moved the camera back and forth instead of answering.
It was his way of saying: Don’t bother me while I’m shooting.
He had to pretend to be capturing something, even though there was nothing he wanted to shoot.
So he stared blankly through the Viewfinder at the School Building’s white wall.
Fifth period.
The moment the blazing sun collided with the School’s white wall and cast back its light.
Eun-oh liked this moment even as he dreaded it.
It was a moment when light beyond his control flooded everywhere.
Just as he tried to look away from the white wall burning so brilliantly he couldn’t contain it—
a shadow fell across the window.
!
Someone seemed to be reaching for the cord beside them, as if to lower the blinds.
A girl in a school uniform, her hair braided to one side—the color of straw when caught in light—a neat ribbon at her collar.
She squinted against the cascading brightness, then froze as she spotted Eun-oh beyond the glass.
She was looking at him.
Through the window.
Holding the same cord as he was.
Without thinking, Eun-oh pressed the shutter.
As if it were his destiny to capture that frame.
As if he had been born for this moment alone.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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