#someone who’s coming with the burden of having a highly speculated upon private life is a risky investment

[surrealitykrp-blog]

hello listeners —

today we’ve received a notice about im haru, the 25 year old who is currently unemployed. you might have seen him around riverside sometimes. if you haven’t, fear not and stay tuned for the briefing.

                                    and as always, welcome to iri

—  and now, the profile

faceclaim: kwon jiyong (gdragon) oc name: im haru age: 25 positive traits: upbeat optimist, determined opportunist, carefree adventurer neutral traits: highly extroverted, a true free spirit, strongly ruled by emotions negative traits: selfish tendencies, naive escapist, ‘screw the rules’ attitude occupation: unemployed (previously, an actor) housing: riverside affiliation: n/a

— and now, the development

THE MYSTERY OF IRI:

When he’s just a boy, barely able to string together a coherent sentence, his father tells him stories of the town he used to grow up in.  Tells him of its people and places, like they were nothing more than characters in a story that’s lost its shape after the fiftieth reiteration. Still, he listens. Listens well and dear, because there’s something different about the way his father’s eyes shine when he talks about home like it were something akin to an old friend that’s gone far away. For the longest time, Haru’s always believed these small, fleeting memories of his dad were the reason why he’s harbored the bleary numbness of a nostalgia for a place he’s never even been to. Though, upon first setting foot into Iri, it becomes pointedly clear otherwise. The town itself, as once put by his father, is made up of mysteries as great as it’s own—some everlasting, some as short as the blink of an eye, some he’s yet to come face-to-face with. But nothing, so far, holds a candle to the lights. Even after spending years on reverting his night-owl sleeping schedule to something a little more daylight-friendly, Haru found himself effortlessly falling back into old habits the very moment he had discovered their existence. Now, going from a strict bed-time at nine to an I’m-not-tired-yet epiphany at three in the morning sure has it’s downsides, but there was something entirely feasible about the sacrifice of sleep. Unfortunately, his grandmother, who often rolls him out of bed herself, doesn’t quite seem to think so. “You can’t keep staying up so late when you’re supposed to be up early,” Is what she often chastises him with the following morning, nonchalantly tipping the spout of a teapot over the circumference of a mug as she does, “No sleep impedes the brain. Makes you—especially you—do stupid things.” In the beginning, he’d offer sarcastic, charming remarks in order to dilute the sting of her criticism, but her response would always stop him dead in his tracks every time: you’re too much like your father.

THE DUALITY OF MANKIND:

For as long as he can remember, Haru’s always found himself wrapped-up and ruled by the extremity of his emotions—meaning, even if the most soundest and unmistakable of logic had presented a straight-forward route to follow, it would be his feelings in those key intervals that would be the determining factor in which fork in the road he’d actually take. His life was always more akin to an unwinding adventure than it was to destinations—becoming an actor, for one, was never truly in his stars. It was the persistent hypercritical bullying of his father, telling him “you can’t do it” over and over again, that ignited a fire that still hasn’t gone out to this day.   His friends can attest to the whirlwind of his inconsistencies, oftentimes criticizing his ‘go with the flow’ outlook on life for being irresponsible and unreliable in accounted instances of mischief or plight, but likewise praising him for being exciting and buoyant when a good mood has him craving for something a little more than just an easygoing hangout. When it boils down to it, Haru is unashamed and unafraid to share his innermost feelings—regardless of potentially burdening others with his unloading, it’s always been easy for him to selfishly cry, criticize, praise, or express confusion in what might be forthrightly evident to all those who surround him. Much to his chagrin, as he’s heard from mutual colleagues and the like, his father was very much the same.

— and now, the biography

Before achieving fame in his mid-twenties as one of South Korea’s most recognizable and respected actors, Im Chae P’il was born and raised in the confines of a comfortably-sized town by the name of Iri—though, interestingly enough, his respected Wikipedia article and individual fan-sites have a strange tendency of citing various other rural civics in its place. He’s never bothered to correct them.

Shortly after graduating high-school, he moves to Seoul City to kick-start his career as an aspiring actor, and it’s there that he meets (and inevitably falls in love with) the beautiful Kang SunJa. He proposes to her several years later after landing his first big role as the supporting lead in an up-and-coming movie, and she doesn’t hesitate when she says yes.

They have their first and only child on December 21st, 1991. Though his was a birth most unplanned, their son, named Haru, was a cherished addition to their small, private family. At least, in the beginning, anyway—the whole ‘shiny, brand new’ effect wore off pretty fast. You see, Chae P’il has always been way more interested in drinking than anything else, and SunJa prefers to spend her time doting on her husband than raising a helpless newborn. In retrospect, Haru grows up fairly lonely; pointedly going out of his way to make quick friends out of the small amounts of children he meets throughout his upbringing.

When Haru reaches the age of comprehensible conversation he finds himself constantly butting heads with his father who likes to tease, taunt, and outright bully him (worsening around the time when he learns about Haru’s budding interest in the entertainment field). Their exchanges become increasingly competitive, aggressive, and eventually just stop happening altogether by the time Haru turns sixteen years old.

In 2010, during filming on set abroad, Chae P’il goes missing. When the news reaches their family, SunJa becomes increasingly ill from heartbreak. Even though he knows that enrolling into university offers a broader chance of a successful career like his father’s, Haru decides on taking nearby acting classes just so he can keep her company for the time being. He soon grows to regret this decision.

Within the duration of that year, SunJa quickly withers away to a sliver of her once-self, losing the energy to cry, talk, or even look at him anymore. As angry as he is, he can’t find it in him to hate her. She’s his mother. His rock, his all-that’s-left. Even if it means swallowing his pride and succumbing to yet another inadequacy of just not being enough, he’ll forgive her if she’ll stay for a little while longer.

But SunJa passes away in the late-half of 2011, and Haru decidedly rides the hype of headlines and throws himself head-first into his career. After various amounts of failed background and uncredited work in television, he receives his breakout role as Kim HyunJae, the main character’s right-hand man in the Korean Drama My Sister’s Friend. After the series came to a close with a whopping sixty-three episodes, he was nominated for Best Supporting Actor in both the Korean Drama Awards and the Grand Bell awards.

In 2014, after a successful two years of back-to-back work, Haru was nominated and won the title of Best New Actor by the Grand Bell Awards for his role as serial killer Kang Yonggak in the movie MISSING. Many speculate that his nominations in spite of his rookie status were accredited to his being Chae P’il’s son, causing controversy after winning the title of Best New Actor against another high-deserving contender.

However, only just months after winning, the celebrations came to a standstill when he receives an official confirmation of his father’s death in the new year. While part of him had always assumed his father was no longer alive, as many others had, too, speculated, Haru found himself concerned with just how deeply he’d been affected by the death of someone who, in his own words, ‘shouldn’t have even mattered’. His friends don’t understand, and it’s not like his mother is going to answer his questions from six feet under—he feels inexplicably lonely.

Without much else to fall back on, he finds himself packing his bags and flagging the first taxi out of the city, avoiding the headlines and internet articles long before they could even surface.

#sr:app #krp