Chapter 100
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: Cinema Sparks an Idea
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Before entering the theater, I stood with Lee Cheong-ha in front of the concession stand.
“Popcorn’s on me. Pick whatever you want… but not everything, just something reasonable, okay?”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized I’d almost made a huge mistake.
If Lee Cheong-ha picked everything she wanted, I’d be in big trouble.
Never underestimate a concession stand.
One moment of carelessness, and I’d be broke.
“Hmm. Reasonable… reasonable.”
She examined the menu with more caution than ever, even making faces she’d never normally make. Clearly, telling her to pick reasonably had been the right call.
With so many options, choosing just a few looked agonizing.
“What about you, Do-hyun? What do you want?”
Unable to settle on something reasonable, she turned to me.
Her expression was so serious that I found myself intently studying the menu board as well.
“Hmm. For now, I’ll go with original popcorn.”
I didn’t usually love popcorn that much.
It could get too greasy after a while.
But being at the movies after so long made me crave it for some reason.
Especially the classic original kind from back in the day.
“Got it. Then popcorn’s original.”
Lee Cheong-ha latched onto my choice like it was a relief to have decided on one thing.
Even so, she kept scanning the menu, so we weren’t done yet.
“I’m good with popcorn and orange juice.”
“Orange juice? Not cola or soda?”
She stared at me like she couldn’t comprehend.
I knew exactly why she was looking at me like that.
Soda was the truth with movie popcorn.
I had my reasons, though.
“Soda’s not great for the throat. Unless I really crave it, I try to hold off.”
I’d cut back on carbonated drinks for vocal care, so I decided to skip it this time too.
Even Huh Ji-woong never got me soda when he bought burgers.
“Hmm.”
Lee Cheong-ha furrowed her brow even deeper, as if my words made her dilemma worse.
This was a new level of fierce expression from her.
Then, as if she’d made up her mind, she declared firmly.
“Fine, juice for me too. I’ll have grape juice.”
She was going for juice as well.
From her face, choosing juice over cola looked like a real sacrifice.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Her bright smile made me grin naturally.
She was kinda admirable for no reason.
“Nothing else you want? No hot dog?”
“I’ll take one!”
It was a big splurge for my allowance, but I’d push it just for today.
Lately, it felt like my parents might give me more if I asked…
Thinking of Dad seeing me off at the door when I left to meet Cheong-ha today, it seemed possible.
***
After the movie ended, I looked down at the empty popcorn bucket and said.
“You really polished off that popcorn, Cheong-ha.”
She’d eaten every last kernel, not leaving a single one.
Did people usually finish the bottoms? I thought you left some.
The hot dog was gone before the previews even ended.
Mostly thanks to Lee Cheong-ha, of course.
She devoured it before I could get a bite, making me feel bad for even trying.
“The movie was so good. Right, Do-hyun?”
Lee Cheong-ha smiled sheepishly and jumped straight to talking about the film.
She was right—it had been fun.
Turning an old fairy tale into live-action like that.
I knew the story, but seeing it on the big screen made it pretty moving.
“Yeah. Who knew the evening market girl could be such a fascinating subject.”
“That actress was amazing. Pitiful yet cute, cute yet mysterious…”
We kept chatting about the movie all the way out of the theater.
As the conversation wound down, Lee Cheong-ha let out a sigh-like comment.
“I just love that foreign fairy tale vibe. So mystical, you know? No wonder it’s number one.”
Her offhand remark stuck in my ear.
“Foreign fairy tale vibe?”
“Yeah. Like… it has this feel you don’t see in Korean stories?”
A foreign fairy tale feel you don’t get in our country.
I mulled it over deeply.
“Foreign fairy tale… foreign fairy tale…”
Lee Cheong-ha stopped when I halted suddenly and started mumbling strangely. She stood there watching me.
“What’s up?”
I smacked my fist into my palm like a lightbulb had gone off.
That was it.
Coming to the movies today had been worth it.
“From France’s perspective, our country’s stories are foreign too, right?”
“Y-yeah?”
“Hang on. Let’s sit over here for a sec.”
“Okay, sure.”
Before her words even finished, I plopped down on a bench outside.
I pulled out my phone’s notes app and started jotting furiously.
Lee Cheong-ha sat beside me like it was no big deal.
For now, organize it like this… and finish the ending at home.
I double-checked the notes, nodded, and pocketed my phone.
With a satisfied smile, I turned to her beaming.
“Thanks, Lee Cheong-ha. You just gave me a great idea.”
“R-really?”
Huh? What’s with her.
I tilted my head at her averted gaze, then remembered something to ask.
“Oh, right. How’s practice with Woo-sik going?”
“Eh, so-so?”
“Looks like Woo-sik plans to ride on your coattails.”
Just yesterday, he’d been lying in bed muttering how lucky he was to pair with Lee Cheong-ha, who’d been fifth in class and played Jeong Hee-seon in the TryOne audition show.
I’d made him do horse stance for that…
But he didn’t seem to have any ideas of his own.
“What? No way. Min Woo-sik just messes around in the dorm all the time.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Ugh, seriously. What are we gonna do with that guy.”
Lee Cheong-ha had Woo-sik figured out now.
She knew him too well, which made her worried face kinda pitiful.
Woo-sik was running five laps around the field today.
Then she suddenly looked at me and said.
“I thought we’d team up this time, but we got split again.”
She looked a bit disappointed, but not overly worried.
Was this making me feel a little bummed?
“Yeah. We haven’t done anything together at school since that first vocal test.”
“Right? It’d be way more fun now! Such a shame.”
“Isn’t your face way too bright for someone who’s bummed?”
“Oops. No it’s not!”
Lee Cheong-ha burst into bright laughter.
“You’re gonna keep doing musicals, right, Do-hyun?”
It was a sudden question.
I hadn’t really asked myself that, but the answer was easy.
“Yeah.”
“Then we’re good. I’m gonna keep doing musicals too. Someday we’ll share a stage. Somewhere bigger than Cheongyeom Arts High or the Korean Art Hall.”
I didn’t show it, but her words surprised me.
How does a person change like this.
She used to be so obvious about wanting to share a stage with me, but now that side was gone.
Guess being a year older meant she matured faster.
I pictured her back on stage at the mid-sized theater during the last tryout.
She really wasn’t like other kids.
Was this mentality why she’d make it big on Broadway later?
Somehow, it left me feeling a bit wistful—like raising a kid only for them to fly the nest.
“Bigger stage?”
“Yeah! Like… Broadway in Chicago or something?”
Haha.
She really was born different.
How’d she know she’d be the queen gracing Broadway.
Knowing the future, her words didn’t sound like a joke at all.
“Guess I gotta work harder then. To stand on Broadway with you.”
I couldn’t lose, so I smiled lightly and replied.
Might need to step it up a bit.
***
Three weeks had passed since the semester started.
Monday first period, Huh Ji-woong shuffled in looking exhausted.
The kids were full of energy, chattering away from the morning.
Must be nice being students with no Monday blues.
“Save your energy and sit down, everyone.”
In contrast, the working adult Huh Ji-woong looked utterly drained.
Monday blues had hit him hard.
Seeing his extra-weary face made even me shut up solemnly.
As the kids settled, he connected his laptop to the classroom TV.
“A bit early, but time to announce the comprehensive evaluations.”
The sudden news shocked the students into shouting.
“Huh?!”
“Already? We haven’t even started subject tests…”
The room buzzed with surprise.
Last semester, all subject tests finished before comp evals began.
This time, were they prepping subject tests and comp evals at once?
Could you even study properly like that?
Midterms and finals were rushed enough for those who bothered.
Worried murmurs rippled through the class.
Thwack thwack—
Huh Ji-woong quieted them with his ever-present pointer on the podium.
“Listen up. The directing team needs time to prep, so we’re announcing early. No need to freak out yet. You don’t have anything to prepare.”
“Teacher, we’re doing it with the directing class again?”
Surprisingly, Woo-sik asked a normal question.
Huh Ji-woong scratched his head at Woo-sik’s query before answering.
“We are, but there’s one difference from last semester. We’ll introduce the works like before, but the directors’ names stay blinded until selections are done.”
Just like I remembered from before regression.
Unlike first semester, by now we’d befriended kids from other majors.
To avoid picks based on who’s directing or starring, they’d block that.
In pro world, choosing by those factors was normal.
Cheongyeom Arts High just wanted to spare students that during school.
Heads tilted in confusion.
From my memory, it wasn’t just directors blinded.
“We decide purely on the work itself. No time to scheme with friends on picks. We’ll introduce here, vote right away.”
As expected.
Not just directors—musical kids didn’t know each other’s picks until selections finalized.
The kids buzzed louder.
Huh Ji-woong scanned them and said.
“Like I said before, school grades aren’t everything. Don’t think, ‘That’s good ’cause they’re good, or that team’s fun.’ Pick what you truly want to do.”
Song Ha-na raised her hand right on cue.
“Still, after a semester pairing up, wanting to work with someone you vibe with isn’t bad, right?”
Classic sharp Song Ha-na.
“Right. It’s not bad.”
Huh Ji-woong stared straight at her and continued.
“But as musical actors, you’ll often work with total strangers. This is training for that.”
Both were right.
In pro world, you might team with great matches—or first-timers, like he said.
“But what if it’s a total mismatch? Just chalk it up to bad luck?”
“…Mismatch?”
Huh Ji-woong’s eyes sharpened at Song Ha-na’s frustrated words.