Chapter 12 - Test Shoot Studio
Studio A was on the basement level of the RASCA Entertainment building. Chae-ah walked ahead and opened the door.
"Here we are."
The studio was bigger than Harin had imagined. A photographer was wiping down the lens next to the camera.
"Ah, you're the model for today's test shoot?"
"Yes. This is Yoo Harin."
Chae-ah gave a brief introduction. The photographer gave Harin a quick once-over and nodded. It was a professional gaze.
Harin walked toward the white backdrop. Her steps felt heavy. As she stood on the curved seamless paper, lights poured down from both sides.
A shutter clicked for the exposure test. Harin's shoulders twitched.
The photographer checked the monitor from behind the camera, adjusting the light angles. He tilted the reflector and moved one softbox half a step back.
"Good. Lighting's set. Just stand naturally for now. I'll take a few upper-body shots first."
Naturally.
Harin tried to stand naturally.
She didn't know where to put her hands. She let them hang at her sides. Awkward. She clasped them in front. Even more awkward. She put them behind her back. Now she was at attention.
She didn't know where to direct her gaze either. At the lens? Next to it?
I'm being photographed.
That realization stiffened her entire body.
Yoo Hajoon had avoided cameras his whole life.
He'd stood at the very back in group photos, bowed his head for graduation pics, and never once properly looked at his ID photos after printing. He hated having his face recorded. He hated the very idea that it existed somewhere in the world.
This body was now Yoo Harin. She didn't hate the face in the mirror.
But the moment she stood in front of the camera, her body reacted first. Shoulders hunched forward. Chin dipped. Gaze dropped to the floor.
"More naturally. Shoulders back a bit, eyes right at the lens."
The photographer's instructions reached her ears. She understood them. Her body wouldn't obey.
She straightened her shoulders. They hunched again. She lifted her gaze. When her eyes met the lens, her head turned away reflexively.
"Once more. Face front."
Click.
"Shoulders back just a little."
Click. Click.
The more the shutter sounded, the stiffer Harin's expression grew. Her lips pressed into a straight line, her eyes wavering between avoiding the lens and facing it.
Chae-ah stood in front of the monitor, arms crossed.
The shots appeared on her laptop screen in sequence.
First shot. Shoulders hunched, gaze below the lens. The silver hair caught the light beautifully, but her face was locked in tension.
Second shot. Facing front, but eyes not meeting the lens—off by half a handspan. Corners of her mouth drooping.
Third. Fourth. Fifth.
All the same. The silver hair and skin tones popped under the lights, but her expression was dead.
No basics.
Chae-ah's assessment was straightforward. Classic reaction from someone with zero camera experience. In a test shoot that cost the agency money, there was almost nothing forgiving about this.
Chae-ah looked away from the monitor toward the back of the studio. Harin stood before the backdrop, nodding stiffly to the photographer's directions.
In the corner, behind some lighting gear, Ian sat in a chair.
Legs crossed, watching Harin—but unlike her usual relaxed pose, her fingers drummed irregularly on her knee. The impatience of someone who wanted to do something but knew she couldn't interrupt the shoot.
Nari sat in the chair next to her.
Nari's eyes were on Harin too. She chewed her lips. A face holding something back.
"Relax more. Your expression's too stiff."
The photographer called from behind the camera. Harin nodded, but her face didn't change.
The eleventh shot appeared on the monitor. Chae-ah checked it. No change.
Then, in the corner of Chae-ah's vision, Nari moved.
Nari stood from her chair and circled behind the camera. Behind the photographer's back, within Harin's line of sight.
Nari pressed her cheeks flat with her palms, puffing out her lips.
Fish face. Cheeks squished, mouth protruding. Eyes wide open, staring straight at Harin.
Harin's gaze lifted above the lens.
She saw Nari's face.
What the heck is that.
Nari kept the fish face, rolling her eyes left, right, back to Harin. She pressed harder on her cheeks, making her lips protrude even more.
"……Pfft."
Harin tried to hold back the laugh.
Nari upped the ante. Still fish-faced, she tilted her chin up and winked at Harin. Eyes saying, Unnie, it's me. The gap between the studio's serious vibe and Nari's fish face was too much.
"…Puh… hff…."
Harin's shoulders shook once.
The photographer didn't miss the timing. The shutter clicked.
The shot appeared on the monitor. Chae-ah looked.
It was different. Shoulders not fully relaxed yet, but the corners of her mouth curved up slightly, light in her eyes. The first shot with any life in her stiff expression.
Harin couldn't hold it in anymore. She laughed.
The sound leaked out. Small, but clear.
Ian's hand stopped on her knee.
...I can't lose.
Ian stood from her chair. She went to Nari's side and stood behind the camera.
Harin's gaze shifted from Nari to Ian.
Ian raised her hand and gave a small wave. Harin's expression softened.
"Senior planning something too?"
Nari whispered.
Ian shot Nari a glare, but she was thinking about what she could do for Harin right here.
Something funny… something hilarious… something fun…
Ian met Harin's eyes and opened her mouth. Voice as low as possible.
"Harin-ah."
Harin looked at Ian beyond the lens.
"Know why bunnies are tough?"
"…What?"
Ian said it with a dead-serious face.
"'Cause they've got grit and guns."
Harin froze.
...What'd she say?
Ian's expression was perfectly serious. Not even a blink.
Nari clamped her mouth shut beside her.
...Ugh… not funny…?
Ian's face looked like an elementary kid anxiously showing her drawing to the teacher.
Honestly, that was funnier and cuter than the pun itself.
Harin's brain stalled, then rebooted.
"…Khkh…"
"Puhhff…"
"…Phew, good…."
She couldn't hold it. Not because the pun was funny. It was the sight of top actress Seo Ian, dead serious behind the camera, dropping a dad joke.
She's so cute. First time seeing Ian do stuff like this.
Harin's laugh burst out. No holding back this time—eyes crinkling, shoulders shaking with real laughter.
The photographer fired off shots in a row.
"Perfect! Hold that expression!"
The shots filled the monitor.
Chae-ah looked at the screen.
The silver-haired girl was laughing. Tension gone from her shoulders, posture natural. Light shattered over her silver hair, particles catching between the strands.
A world of difference from before.
No basics.
Chae-ah's initial judgment stood. Poses, eye lines—all amateur. Most shots unusable by industry standards.
But.
Chae-ah looked again at Harin's expression on screen.
That laugh as tension melted. The face that only emerged when she forgot the camera.
That's not something you teach. That's raw charm.
Some expressions come from practice, others from innate material. The former is skill—you can teach it. The latter? No.
Chae-ah looked away from the monitor: Harin laughing in front of the backdrop; Nari goofing off behind the camera; Ian beside her, a hint of smug pride.
The shoot smoothed out after that.
Every time the photographer called for a pose change, Harin still looked awkward, but Nari's heart hands from behind the camera or Ian's context-free devastating puns made her laugh, and the shutter captured it.
Ian's puns devolved further.
"…What does a radish say on the bus?"
"…What."
"Mind if I ride free?"
Nari slapped her knee laughing. Even the photographer chuckled. Harin wasn't laughing at the joke—she couldn't handle Ian saying it with that straight face.
"Ian-ah, you into this stuff?"
"Nah. But Harin laughs, so."
Ian said flatly. Her eyes fixed on Harin. A soft gaze. Her face wore raw pleasure at seeing Harin laugh, no filter.
"Great! Last shot."
The photographer pulled his hands from the camera.
Shoot over.
Harin stepped down from the backdrop and sank into a corner chair. Leaning back, tension flooded out—her legs went limp.
Nari rushed over and plopped beside her.
"Unnie, you were amazing! So pretty when you smiled at the end!"
"…Thanks to you guys."
Harin tried to smile, but something appeared in her peripheral vision.
On the table.
A paper cup. Coffee. Vanilla latte, just like the other day. Freshly poured.
Harin looked up.
Chae-ah's back. Already turning away toward the monitor, binder under her arm, phone in hand.
"……"
Harin picked up the coffee. Warm.
She'd meant to say thanks, but Chae-ah was already talking file transfers with the photographer. Harin took a sip. Sweet.
While gear was packed away, Harin, Ian, and Nari sat side by side in the corner chairs.
"Ian-ah."
"Yeah?"
"Saw someone in Practice Room C the other day."
"C?"
"Her walk—no shoulder sway at all. Perfect turns."
"Ah, Siyul-unnie."
"You call her unnie?"
"Yeah. One year older. Known her since child actor days."
"That long?"
"Pretty much. She was already here when I joined. Not same agency back then, but bumped into her on ads a lot. Met again at RASCA."
Harin watched Ian's face. Her tone shifted slightly at "Siyul"—not warmer or colder, just the familiarity of pulling out an old memory.
"What's she like?"
"RASCA's top walker. Basics flawless."
"Personality?"
Ian thought a moment.
"…A bit prickly at first. Short words, no compliments, blank face."
"Saw her myself—kinda scary."
"But."
Ian looked at Harin.
"She's not really. Ignores people she's not interested in—won't even talk. If she talks, she cares."
Nari jumped in.
"Right! When Siyul-senior first talked to me, I was so touched! 'Point your toes inward on turns!' Super cool, right?"
"Classic."
Ian chuckled softly.
"Siyul-unnie critiques instead of praises. Lots of critiques means lots of interest. Silence means nothing."
Harin mulled Ian's words.
The other day in the hall, Siyul had spoken to her first.
What're you staring at.
Short and sharp, but she'd initiated. When Harin said she admired her, Siyul cut her off as flattery and turned away—but her ears were red.
"Does Siyul-senior teach walking?"
Ian shook her head at Harin's question.
"Never seen her teach anyone. Practices to death herself, but not the teaching type."
"Yeah! That's what I thought too!"
Nari nodded vigorously.
Harin said nothing, just sipped her coffee.
RASCA Entertainment, 7th floor. CEO's office.
Light slanted through the blinds across the desk.
Jung Sia stared at her laptop screen.
The test shoot files had arrived. From Chae-ah. Unzipping revealed thumbnails of the shots.
She skimmed the first few. Stiff faces, downcast eyes. Nothing usable.
Midway, the mood shifted.
Jung Sia's mouse paused.
A laughing shot. Eyes crinkled, light shattering over her hair. Mouth slightly open—not self-conscious, natural.
Next shot. The one after.
The laugh intensified, expression brightening. In the final ones, shoulders fully relaxed, silver hair gleaming true under the lights.
Jung Sia lingered on the last.
"…Usable."
Murmur to herself.
She picked up her phone and messaged Chae-ah.