Life is Easier If You’re Handsome

—Boss, the match was incredible, but five seconds... that’s too fast. If possible, I hope this kind of thing doesn’t happen again.

“The rematch just wasn’t exciting anymore. It couldn’t be helped.”

On the private jet en route to the U.S.,

I was in the middle of a video call with Bob Dylan, head of Top Rank Promotions.

The topic? Match duration.

The championship match had lasted under five minutes.

The rematch—just five seconds.

Sure, it showcased my overwhelming skill,

but from a business standpoint, that kind of dominance was tricky.

Of course—

—I get it. Honestly, five seconds was so fresh and wild, the public reaction wasn’t bad at all.

There were no issues with immediate popularity.

In fact, it had blown up even more than expected.

But Bob’s concern was about what comes next.

—I swear, I’m not suggesting anything shady, but if you can toy with your opponent a little... please do.

“How about I drag it out to at least three rounds, then?”

—If I can be greedy... I’d love it if it went to five.

Bob gave a faint smile, almost embarrassed by his own request.

—Let’s be honest—who could possibly go twelve rounds with you?

“There’s someone out there. I’m sure of it.”

—I hope so. I really do.

“By the way, what’s the update on the title unification?”

—After the latest meeting, since there are four sanctioning bodies, it looks like we’ll need to do two belts per match.

“Two titles at a time?”

—Yeah, it keeps things even. Plus, you’re a franchise champion.

“Understood.”

A franchise champion.

In simple terms, a champion with no mandatory title defenses.

It’s a status reserved for those with both massive skill and massive popularity.

Unlike super champions, franchise champs don’t have to fight whoever the organization assigns.

They can cherry-pick only the most profitable matches.

In other words, the organization’s biggest box office draw.

Though it’s a contract-based status—lose your popularity, and you’re out in a flash.

Still, being free of mandatory defenses was a huge advantage.

—So Boss, it looks like the next bout will be for the WBA heavyweight title.

“They’ve got a super champ system too, like the franchise title, right?”

—Yes. IBF and WBO don’t, so we’ll aim for whichever gives you more flexibility with your acting schedule.

“Appreciate the consideration.”

—It’s the least we can do. We’ll be in touch with any updates on match dates or additional conditions.

“Thank you.”

And with that, the call ended.

I leaned back in my seat and glanced around the jet.

“This is... the biggest private jet I’ve ever been on.”

To be exact, I hadn’t even known jets like this existed.

This wasn’t just luxurious—it was absurd.

Like something out of a movie or anime.

The entire plane was basically first class.

This wasn’t something you could just buy with money alone.

While I was lost in that thought—

“Oppa! Oppa! Look at the clouds! There are so many!”

“Oh really? Wow!”

The moment Seohyun realized my call was over, she barreled into my arms.

“Uuugh, I love traveling with you! Heehee! It’s my first time in America!”

“When I’m not filming, we’ll go everywhere together.”

“Okay! But no other girls! Just us! Just you and me!”

Other girls?

Where’d that come from?

“I’m totally against more sisters joining our family, just so you know!”

“Oh wow, our princess even says stuff like that now?”

“She’s really smart, just like you,” Yerim chimed in.

“What about Dad?”

“He and Seokho started drinking. And apparently there’s some fancy balsam here they love. It’s getting serious.”

So they’re on the whiskey, huh.

“Donghu, can we come too?”

It was Kangshik, sitting nearby.

Now that we were both twenty-three,

he’d finally stopped stammering completely.

Honestly, it was kind of funny that he ever did.

The guy had presented games in front of huge audiences—

and he still stuttered around me? No way.

“I don’t have that many friends. So if I’ve got a private jet, of course I’m inviting everyone.”

“Hehehe, yeah, I’m really reaping the benefits of being your buddy.”

“Ugh! Minhyuk-oppa’s laughing weird again! So weird! But kinda... hot!”

“...Donghu, seriously, you’ve got to lower your little sister’s standards. She’s been looking at you her whole life. Her bar’s way too high.”

“Uh... sorry... Seohyun, you really shouldn’t say that to my friends.”

“Oh, oops... sorry. I say that a lot to my friends though...”

She says stuff like that to her friends?

Is this what seven-year-old trends are like these days?

Did I mess her up by not spending enough time with her...?

Just as I was about to rub my face in frustration—

“She kept trying to play with me! Even when I said no! So I said she was ugly! I couldn’t hit her, right?!”

And then came the real shocker.

Okay, using harsh words as a way to reject someone—sure.

But I couldn’t hit her? What the hell does that mean?

“Hit her? Why would you hit anyone?”

“Because I can! Ugh! When they’re all selfish and pushy and stuff! Seohyun can totally deal with them!”

“...How exactly?”

“With my hitman moves! The hitman finisher! Princesses can do that too!”

I was stunned for a moment—

but then I realized exactly where this came from.

“Coach!”

“Donghu, listen, I can explain, I swear—”

“Get the mitts ready. I need to loosen up.”

For the record, the jet was fully equipped with a training space.

Not a full gym, but enough to be respectable.

More than enough for a proper boxing workout.

“I just taught her a couple self-defense moves, that’s all—”

“You didn’t only teach her self-defense, did you?”

“Great power comes with great responsibility! MMA! Princess is good at it!”

I know how good Coach is with kids.

I’ve been learning from Coach Sangha since elementary school.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

But Seohyun too?

Just how strong do you plan on making our family?

Not that it was a bad thing, honestly.

What really made me do it was just—

Coach flinching the moment I raised my voice.

It was hilarious.

I suddenly felt like messing with him a little.

“Donghu, she’s a prodigy. She’s the female version of you! I’m telling you, we’ve got to start training her now!”

“...Alright. It’s been a while. Let’s get some mitt work in.”

“Mercy, please.”

***

As soon as the private jet landed at the airport,

we entered the country quietly.

Everyone except Seokho hyung and me headed straight to the lodging,

while we went directly to the completed set.

"I'm curious... they said it's practically like building a whole house, right?"

"Yeah, I heard it has the vibe of a model home."

"Sure enough, this is massive in scale. Actually building a house like this..."

"I heard Writer Lee Minha insisted the house had to be built, even if most of the rest is CG."

"Do writers have that much power in the U.S. too?"

"Not so much power... it's just, y’know, lawsuits are everywhere over here."

With casual chatter, we soon arrived at the set.

And I was blown away by what they call “American scale.”

"...No wonder it took four or five months."

"Exactly."

The first thing I saw was a vast cornfield.

I heard they leased a portion of it.

And if this is just a portion... how huge is the whole thing?

No wonder people joke that once someone gets lost out here, you’ll never find them again.

“Donghu Kim! Welcome! I really wanted to greet you in person—sorry I couldn't.”

“No need. We declined, after all. If you’d come, the press would’ve noticed right away.”

For the record, my private life was being kept extremely under wraps.

From family ties to everything else.

It was all stuff that didn’t need to be public, so I hid it as best I could.

That’s why during family trips like this, staying unseen was crucial.

“How did you like the script?”

“Of course it’s top-notch. The revised version, not just the draft, was great too. I really like it.”

“I’m glad to hear that. The set is completely ready for filming.”

“Wait, already?”

“There are a lot of Korean-Americans, haha. It's better to finish quickly and then rest.”

“....”

What is this nostalgic scent of home I’m getting in a foreign country?

Anyway, the set was ready. The actor had arrived.

That meant—

“Shall we start right away?”

There was really nothing to delay.

“Yes, I’ll prepare immediately.”

“This shoot today is for audition material, right?”

The Pianist was being filmed under very unusual circumstances.

The female lead existed in the script, but hadn’t yet been cast.

According to Dezni, they planned to use my footage as part of the audition process.

What exactly that meant, I didn’t know.

But frankly, I didn’t feel I needed to know.

That part wasn’t something for actors to interfere in.

Step, step.

Once the filming setup was complete,

I opened the door to the pristine white house at the center of the cornfield.

That smell of a new house.

Even with the warm sunlight, the pale white stood out.

As if it had been doused in bleach.

A white that erased everything—

not just germs, but everything else.

Here, in this place—

Whirrrrr.

As the sound of ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) the rolling camera kicked in,

I slowly adjusted my slicked-back hair again.

Like putting on a mask.

Like a conductor performing his solemn ritual before a performance.

Click.

The red light blinked on, just above the camera.

“Action!”

And I became the pianist.

***

Have you ever loved something poor?

Have you ever cherished something fragile, something on the verge of breaking?

Have you ever held a baby in your arms?

Have you ever felt its tiny heartbeat, thumping, alive?

Knowing how delicate that thing in your arms is—

have you ever made up your mind to protect it?

Ah yes, I have.

I have truly seen it.

“...How can something like you shine so brightly?”

This is not a love story.

The ballerina on the dark screen of a white TV—

her pink toe shoes utterly enchanted me.

I felt she was my other half.

But her background, her way of living—

none of it satisfied me.

“A swan... is not meant to splash in the water.”

It’s such a sad thing.

Who would want to see a swan flailing in a puddle?

“I want to place you atop my music... and make you dance.”

And I swore that would be the final moment.

That she would die beautifully.

In her brightest, most radiant moment.

I didn’t want her slow descent to remain in anyone’s memory.

“I want to preserve you... taxidermize you... make you an angel.”

Perhaps this is a love story.

I want to be remembered as the pianist—

who forever loved the moment she died.

Forever.

Brrrrring...

—Hello?

“Prepare everything. It’s dinner time again, after a long while.”

As an angel,

the time had come to save an angel from the mud and raise her to the sky.