A Detective's Instinct
Thirty minutes later, Yuwol had finally calmed down enough to catch her breath.
"Then I'll start."
"Okay."
Calm was a relative term. The moment she stood in front of the director, Yuwol started trembling all over again. If she stayed like that, she wouldn't get a proper sound out. This wouldn't do.
I stepped in close and whispered in her ear.
"Unnie. Just do it like you're streaming. Relax. Pretend this is your living room. Come on—you didn't even shake when you took the company exam. What's different about this?"
"Still... the person standing in front of me is a director. And I've never acted before."
"No, unnie. You have."
"Me?"
Yuwol tilted her head, sifting through her past for whenever she might have done such a thing.
"Voice acting. That's a kind of acting too. Besides, your face will be mostly covered by the habit anyway. Just think of it as voice work."
That wasn't entirely true. The habit would hide part of her face, but there were cameras shooting her head-on, so she wouldn't be completely covered. Director Shin Yeomyeong would handle that. Right now she needed to focus on her voice more than her expressions.
"Ah..."
Only then did she remember she'd briefly attended a voice acting academy for some short dubbing work. She cleared her throat.
Wait. How does Jiwoo know that? Did I tell her?
She had. She just didn't remember. At the time, Yuwol had been thoroughly drunk.
"All right. I'll do it."
Her voice was steadier than before as she launched into the scene she'd been given.
And it showed.
"Sister Teresa. The person who came today... is he really all right? You don't have to keep taking on work like this..."
I picked up my cue.
"Don't worry. This too is a mission God has given me. Sister, you stay and guard this place. And as always—you know nothing."
"...Yes. But I, too, at any time—"
"Sister."
I cut her off, and my voice went hard.
"This is a mission God has given me. Your turn simply hasn't come yet. If you wait, it will come soon enough. So... I'll go out to serve. Please watch over this place."
"...I understand."
That was the end of it. A handful of lines—short, almost nothing. And also the most important exchange in the entire film.
Director Shin Yeomyeong sank into thought, his brow creasing as if the decision ran deep.
"All right. I've made my decision."
The verdict, at last. He'd taken barely a minute, but to Yuwol and me it had felt like a year. Without meaning to, I squeezed her hand.
"You said you'd never properly learned acting?"
"Yes, well... I went to a voice acting academy for about a month."
"A month... You can tell you're a streamer. The voice is solid. It's got weight. Far better than that ten-year theater guy. Good. Let's work together."
"...Th-thank you!"
Yuwol grabbed the hand he held out and bowed her head in a deep, grateful dip. Nobody pointed out that "ten years of theater" had now been downgraded to "that ten-year theater guy."
"Next... the mask isn't bad, honestly. And he's a guy, so he could probably handle some action... Let me feel this a second."
Director Shin Yeomyeong circled Kim Woojin, running a hand over his arms and torso.
"Since he's not of age yet, he's got that mix of a student's softness and firmness. Not bad. Looks: pass. Now for the rest—you know, right? In this business, being nothing but a pretty face is basically trash."
"Yes. I know."
Kim Woojin answered without a flicker of doubt. The director nodded, looking satisfied.
He wasn't wrong. The era of swaggering around on a face alone was over. Used to be, even if you couldn't sing and your acting was garbage, handsome or pretty was enough and the audience would eat it up. These days, if you don't put in the work—if the acting's weak—you get left behind.
Of course, if you're pretty enough to chew those rules up and spit them out, like me, that's a different story.
"Jiwoo. You just thought it doesn't matter if you're as pretty as you are, didn't you."
"...N-no?"
Was he reading minds now? He'd hit me dead in the gut, and I looked away. Yuwol glanced at me as I averted my eyes and let out a sigh.
"Well. As long as you're only thinking it to yourself."
"Um... noona? That's not it."
"What?"
"Jiwoo. That girl... even at school she knows she's all that, walking around acting pretty—guhkh!"
"Shut up!"
I drove a roundhouse into Choi Wooseok's stomach the second the nonsense started leaving his mouth. The training I'd been picking up in scraps for Magnificent Bride—and I'd used what Choi Wooseok himself had taught me on Choi Wooseok.
"You... crazy... bitch..."
He clutched his gut, shot me a weak glare, and crumpled to the floor.
Meanwhile, Kim Woojin's test got underway...
"Good. You're in too."
...and by the time that thought even formed, the test was already over.
"Aaaah! I didn't even get to hear it! Because of you!"
"How is that... my fault?"
"Tsk! Don't talk back!"
"You crazy bitch..."
Anyway, while the two who'd passed changed clothes and sat for makeup, I went back to the script.
"Hey, don't you get bored of that? You've been reading that thing since we were still at school. Wow... the paper's completely falling apart."
Choi Wooseok, who'd bounced back from a gut shot with insulting speed, stared at the script in horror.
"Why would this be boring? The first time I read it, the story was fun. The second time, I caught things I'd missed. The third time, I could see how they were paying off the setups they'd planted. And after that, even the same lines can be played a dozen different ways depending on the moment... so why would this be boring?"
"Oh...."
He took a step back, as if he'd just felt a brush of madness.
"What?"
"Nothing. I just thought... you really were born to be an actor."
"Huh? I am an actor."
"Yeah. From now on just act hard and stream hard... haah..."
Choi Wooseok let out a sudden sigh, his face packed with worry.
"What's wrong?"
"It's just... you know I like VTubers."
How could I not? He was already famous in class as a VTuber otaku. He was even in the same VTuber club as me.
"But the VTuber I thought was my oshi..."
He flicked a glance at me.
"Haah..."
"What's with that sigh? You wanna die?"
"Haaaaah..."
Every time I opened my mouth, the sigh got deeper. This was getting on my nerves. Should I hit him one more time? I rolled my wrist, ready to go.
That was when I heard someone coming up behind us.
"Jiwoo! How do I look? It's been so long since I got makeup this expensive—it's actually really fun!"
"Ha... I'm dying."
Two people with completely opposite energy walked over.
"Unnie! You're so pretty! You should dress up like this every day!"
"Oh, you. Forget it. Makeup like this every day and no amount of money would be enough. Still... thanks to you I got to have it done. Should we take a picture? It'd be a shame to wipe all this off without a single shot."
"Of course. But you know we have to be careful posting it on SNS, right?"
"Obviously. Even if we post, only after the teaser drops. Right?"
Good. She knew.
We took pictures with enthusiasm. And off to the side sat Kim Woojin, drained of every last drop of life before filming had even started.
"What's wrong?"
"It's just... really hot. Why is this so thick?"
"Didn't you hear the concept?"
"I heard. That's why I'm not complaining. I don't have the seniority for that anyway."
Fair enough. Go earn your stripes in the army.
"You come over here too. And you!"
I dragged Kim Woojin and Choi Wooseok into the frame. The four of us came out looking pretty decent.
Filming started again. I was back in the same confession box as before. The heat was so oppressive that the inside of it ran hotter than a sauna.
"You okay?"
"Ah... sunbae. I'm fine~"
"Right."
Kim Haseong's tone was as blunt as his face. He could be icy, even cold—but every time he saw me he still handed out advice and warnings.
"If it's too hot, slip a cooling pack inside your clothes. Don't put it where the camera can see, but if you tuck it under the covering, it should take the edge off."
"Oh... thank you!"
"Sure."
When I bowed my head, he waved me off, as if to say don't answer every little thing.
"We'll begin filming!"
At Director Shin Yeomyeong's call, I straightened my wilting body and stood with a serious face.
Then a murmur rose beside me.
"So, Detective—what brings you here?"
"I have some questions. Sister. Do you know anything about this person?"
Through the small grate, Detective Kang Tae-oh slid in a photograph.
"Hmm... I don't think so. I've never seen him. And I couldn't possibly know everyone. Quite a lot of people come through here, appearances aside."
"I see. Then would it be all right if I checked the CCTV?"
"I'm sorry, Detective."
"This isn't a request for cooperation—"
"That's not it. There is no CCTV here."
Detective Kang Tae-oh was left without a word. His long-honed instinct was telling him the culprit was here—and yet no matter how thoroughly he searched, nothing turned up.
"Then there's no problem, is there?"
"That's just it."
"Pardon?"
Stepping out of the church, Detective Kang Tae-oh glanced back and sank into thought.
If anything, it's too clean.
Which means something's hidden here.
"Come on~ a detective's instinct? Is that what this is? There's no such thing. That only happens in the movies."
"You really think it doesn't exist?"
"What? Then you think it does, sunbae?"
Who knows? I don't know either.
Whether what he was feeling now was a detective's instinct—or someone crying out.