Chapter 77
“I like that spirit. Let’s get started right away.”
At the head director’s gesture, the staff who had been checking props and backgrounds instantly cleared out of the camera frame. Then the bit player who needed to exchange brief dialogue with Cheong-yeon in the scene approached.
While the director adjusted the camera angle, Cheong-yeon’s heart pounded as if it might burst.
“Ready, action.”
When the cue dropped, the set became as quiet as death.
Though he had already memorized his lines perfectly, he wasn’t confident about how well he could deliver them.
Was it a mistake to say he’d do it in one take? What if he messed up and got scolded? Would everyone laugh behind his back, saying they knew this would happen?
It was just a brief moment, but regret flashed through Cheong-yeon’s tense mind.
However, just as in previous shoots, his body reacted first according to his practice, and his lips began to move. These were lines he had rehearsed hundreds of times.
“It would be difficult to track from this end. If you were such an important person to Lee Chae-hyun, there would already be traces left behind. But the results…”
“Hey, who are you supposed to be?” the bit player leaned in with a husky voice, following the script. Cheong-yeon flinched involuntarily.
“The results…”
“……”
“……”
“NG.”
“…I’m sorry. I’ll do it again.”
For a moment, his breath caught and his lines got jumbled. As soon as he heard “NG,” he felt dizzy, as if the ground beneath him had collapsed.
Cold sweat beaded on Cheong-yeon’s forehead from anxiety. Min Hye-rin, who had been watching from behind, approached to wipe away the sweat with a tissue and fix his disheveled hair. After completing her task, she quickly returned to her position to avoid disrupting the flow.
“We’ll go again right away. Action!”
Cheong-yeon collected himself and began reciting his lines again. Simultaneously, he naturally walked forward while slowly gazing toward the camera.
“……”
However, upon realizing dozens of eyes were fixed on him, his lips, which had been moving just fine, suddenly clamped shut.
It felt as if he’d been transported back to that day filming in front of the JT Electronics building. The piercing stares and ear-splitting shouts from that day vividly unfolded in his memory instead of his lines.
“Ah…”
“……”
“I’m sorry.”
“NG!”
After about three seconds of silence, the director cut the scene. He gave some directions to the frozen Cheong-yeon, but nothing registered in his ears.
“…Oppa. Are you okay?”
“Please drink some water first, Actor Yoo.”
When Cheong-yeon remained motionless in front of the camera as if in a trance, Min Hye-rin and the manager who had been waiting nearby approached.
“Haah.”
Only after taking a few sips of water as the manager suggested did his foggy mind begin to clear somewhat.
“Hey, Yoo Cheong-yeon. Are you alright?”
The director asked with a somewhat displeased expression. Clearing his throat with a cough, Cheong-yeon barely managed to nod.
“I’m fine. Let me try again.”
This wasn’t the time to tremble while thinking about that day. He needed to show at least half of what he had prepared.
Cheong-yeon forcibly emptied his complex and heavy emotions while waiting for the cue to drop again. His mouth was dry from tension, leaving a bitter taste.
As the staff returned to their positions and Cheong-yeon completed his preparations, the director shouted.
“Action!”
This time, Cheong-yeon abandoned his desire to perform perfectly and instead tried to maintain as much composure as possible. It required intense concentration to stand calmly alone in front of the camera, lights, enormous set, and unfamiliar people.
Cheong-yeon pushed away the disorderly fear of others in his mind and told himself he was alone with just the bit player.
When he imagined actually being in the drama scene rather than in a studio packed with people, a stable voice flowed out. A sense of detachment washed over him, as if the voice wasn’t his own.
With each flawless delivery of the long lines, his lips and facial muscles moved within a meticulously calculated range.
In that moment, it felt as if he wasn’t Yoo Cheong-yeon but had truly become a person named Kang Ha-woon. From deep in his invisible solar plexus to the outer layer covering his body, he had the illusion that everything had completely changed, as if the world had flipped upside down.
Cheong-yeon felt a strange exhilaration that made the back of his neck tingle, from this peculiar sensation of being completely removed from himself. Strangely, he felt more confident than when existing as Yoo Cheong-yeon.
“Cut!”
The scene ended without any line mistakes, and the director called cut at the appropriate timing. Only then did Cheong-yeon emerge from his immersion and observe the people around him.
The director immediately checked the footage just shot. The rest of the staff were holding their breath, waiting for the director’s next instructions.
After contemplating something while touching his chin, the director eventually shook his head and looked at Cheong-yeon.
“Let’s shoot one more.”
…Ah, it must not have been good.
Shadows fell across Cheong-yeon’s face at the director’s firm words. There wasn’t even a comment about whether he had made a mistake or if his acting was simply not good enough. Cheong-yeon felt as if his chest was being crushed by a sense of helplessness.
However, without giving Cheong-yeon time to collect himself, the staff diligently reset the props and direction. During that interval, Min Hye-rin also neatly arranged Cheong-yeon’s clothes and hair.
“You did well, oppa.”
Min Hye-rin whispered briefly, as if sharing a secret. He wanted to ask her what seemed wrong, but the director threw the action sign again.
Although it was highly likely that her praise came from being starry-eyed for him, Cheong-yeon nevertheless straightened his back and cleared his throat, encouraged by her support.
As a rookie, Cheong-yeon couldn’t take liberties with the dialogue, so his performance was similarly repeated as in the previous take.
Even though he tried to focus more on the acting and the role, he couldn’t tell how he appeared, which only increased his overwhelming fear.
“Cut! Yoo Cheong-yeon. Come here.”
After barely reciting all his lines, the director beckoned to Cheong-yeon.
“Yes.”
Wondering what the problem might be, Cheong-yeon approached the director.
Was his acting too much? Or was his pronunciation poor? It could also be that after casting him, they decided his image didn’t match the role…
Various possibilities churned irregularly in Cheong-yeon’s mind. Certainly, the real thing was different from what he had learned at acting academy. At the academy, the teachers always clearly pointed out the problems, so he never had to burn with uncertainty like this.
“Look at the monitor.”
The director gestured with his chin while turning the monitor toward Cheong-yeon. After glancing at the director’s expression, Cheong-yeon stared at the screen he was pointing to.
The scene he had just acted was playing. The screen was small, so he had to lean forward and bring his face closer to see the detailed expressions.
It felt strange seeing himself moving in the monitor. Honestly, he couldn’t see what was wrong at all.
“What do you think?”
“Well…”
Cheong-yeon hesitated at the director’s question, unable to admit that he had no idea what was what.
The director then moved to the next scene and patted Cheong-yeon’s shoulder.
“Both the first and second takes came out fine. I think we could use either one, so I’m asking which one you prefer.”
“Ah.”
So that’s what it was. Belatedly understanding the meaning, Cheong-yeon let out the long sigh he’d been holding.
“The, the second one!”
Though he couldn’t see any difference between the two takes, he just blurted out an answer.
“Then we’ll go with that. Let’s move on to the next shoot.”
The director nodded readily and urged the staff to prepare for the next sequence.
“Understood!”
“Yes!”
Cheong-yeon stared blankly at the people moving in unison, excluding himself.
“Oppa. I preferred the second one too.”
Min Hye-rin, who had somehow appeared beside Cheong-yeon holding his next costume, gave a broad smile and raised her thumb.
*
“Good work, Actor Yoo. It must have been tough shooting for several days straight?”
As the overnight filming ended, the manager brought a blanket and draped it over Cheong-yeon’s shoulders. He then announced that the first shoot was finally completely finished.
Only after seeing the phone the manager held out did Cheong-yeon realize that exactly three days had passed since the day they shot the first scene.
Several days had flown by in the blink of an eye. Originally, the first shoot should have ended two days ago. Due to the lead actors’ schedules repeatedly getting tangled, the more manageable and less busy supporting actors’ sequences were moved up, forcing them to film without a break.
He looked terrible after not being able to lie down properly to sleep or wash for three days, as he never knew when he would be called for standby. As if to console Cheong-yeon, the manager prepared snacks and drinks packaged from a nearby restaurant and then opened the car door for him.
“Still, since we’ve shot even next week’s filming portions, you’ll have some free time for a while. Ah, I’ve postponed all the other scheduled activities. When you get home today, take a good rest for a few days.”
At the mention that he could relax at home for a while, Cheong-yeon’s previously wearied expression immediately brightened. He couldn’t be more grateful for the manager’s flexibility.
“Wait. What day is it today?”
“Wednesday.”
Cheong-yeon paused in the middle of eating his fluffy cream bread. Come to think of it, Friday was just two days away.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
