Life is Easier If You're Handsome novel Chapter 200

The Netflix short film Breaking the Knot.

With a 15-minute cap, including end credits, the actual runtime would be around 14 minutes and 30 seconds.

14 minutes and 30 seconds.

That was all the time we had to craft a complete film.

And Cannes, of all places.

That meant intensity was a must.

And in a romance short film, intensity usually meant—

Physical contact.

From what I saw in the script, there were no deep physical interactions.

At the final moments of a breakup, things like that didn’t belong.

Never thought I’d end up working with Chisako like this.

Was this fate?

There were a lot of strange coincidences surrounding this.

How did Chisako even end up auditioning for Director Lee Seong-deok’s short film?

Sure, the casting call had gone out with my name attached.

But the fact that it had reached Chisako was genuinely surprising.

Last time we talked, she was still doing voice acting work.

And yet, the timing had lined up perfectly.

Breaking the Knot.

Unlike usual, there was no rating listed this time.

Maybe it was because the script had been tailored for a film festival.

Or maybe it was because it was skipping theatrical release and going straight to OTT platforms.

I didn’t know the reason.

But what I did know was that this film was a key to the world stage.

What kind of film will it turn out to be?

A strange anticipation built up inside me.

For the first time in a while, I got ready to immerse myself in a script.

A short romance film.

What kind of world would it show me?

Time to get into character.

I was about to find out.

***

A still world.

A brief silence to heighten the audience’s focus—necessary for a short film.

How much time had passed?

Clack.

The silence broke.

Colors and sounds filled the world, and the 14-minute, 30-second story began.

“Where are we going today?”

The first line didn’t belong to me.

It was Chisako’s.

In the script, the female lead had Chisako’s face, drawn into the romance mode of the scene.

“Not going to tell me?”

Her voice was refined, elegant.

The moment I heard it, I understood why she had been cast.

A voice that pulled people in.

The kind that gripped both eyes and ears from the very first word.

Something that only a true voice actor could achieve.

A realm reachable only by those born with the talent.

And beyond that—

Something a Korean actress could never replicate.

That subtle nuance in her Korean pronunciation.

A slight, nearly imperceptible foreign touch—

The kind that only a native Korean listener would notice.

A difference that foreigners wouldn’t consciously perceive, but still subtly registered.

That was why Chisako had been chosen for this role.

“....”

In the script, I said nothing and simply got into the car.

I used to open the door for her.

Not anymore.

Now, the coldness of our love was expressed only through glances and gestures.

Less than 15 minutes.

That was all the time we had.

Everything about our relationship had to be conveyed through fragmented conversation and silent movements.

Click.

The engine started.

“Still not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“The place where we first met.”

“Ah... I see.”

The conversation ended there.

The camera followed the car as it drove away.

And at that moment, the screen darkened—

Time rewound.

Back to when they loved each other.

Through the burning passion of their peak.

Further back, to their youthful beginning.

And then, it returned to the present.

To the very place where they had tied their knot—

Now, a place to sever it.

Like breaking a padlock at Namsan Tower.

“So... we’re breaking up today.”

Realizing the inevitable, the female lead spoke calmly.

As if she had always known this would happen.

And yet, the shock of it stripped her of words.

Her Korean faltered.

"If I knew this was how it would end, I would’ve taken a photo before getting in the car."

"A photo?"

But I continued speaking in Korean.

Even though we each spoke in our native tongue, communication was effortless.

Perhaps, in a way, this was even easier.

No more forced consideration.

"You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?"

"Doing what?"

"Tying loose ends like this."

"I just thought... maybe if I did, you’d remember me a little longer."

If it’s too much, I won’t push. Sorry.

Her quiet apology stung.

I hadn’t meant to make her feel bad.

We had always been out of sync like this.

"If we break up, do you forget everything? Is that what you mean?"

"No... I just don’t want to break up with you."

"I’m not good at Japanese. Speak Korean."

"Oh, but only when it’s convenient for you, huh?"

Languages change.

"You had no problem giving me directions in Japanese."

"...."

"Ah, there you go again. Pretending not to hear. That’s one thing I really hate about you."

I didn’t answer.

Just took the turn toward the rest stop.

How tight was this knot that even unraveling it hurt so much?

Even breaking it with force wouldn’t be easy.

But it had to be done.

At the moment I resolved myself—

Crack.

The immersion shattered.

Reality snapped back into place.

And before I could even process my emotions, words spilled out—

"...This is seriously going to need insane acting skills."

Short films were all about focus.

Especially for Cannes—

It wasn’t about the story itself, but about the execution.

In a 15-minute span, a film needed either experimental direction or overwhelming emotional impact.

And Director Lee Seong-deok had clearly chosen the latter.

He was betting everything on the acting.

That meant he had complete faith in his actors.

Of course, meticulous directing would be involved.

But no matter how I looked at it—this was a bold experiment.

"Which means... he cast Chisako with all of this in mind."

So, was she really that good at acting?

I was curious.

And that curiosity was about to be answered—

"Senpai! I’m looking forward to working with you today! Oh... can I call you ‘oppa’ now?"

A bright, bubbly rabbit had arrived.

***

When Director Lee Seong-deok put out the casting call for the female lead in Breaking the Knot, he had only three conditions: