Script Reading! (3)
Choi Chun-sung frowned as he looked at Jiwoo.
That's... a rookie's acting? Anyone can see that's the kind of emotional pull you only earn after grinding in this business for at least ten years.
It had been exactly twelve years since Choi Chun-sung entered the entertainment industry. In those twelve years—hardly a short stretch of time—there was nothing he hadn't done. He'd started as a staffer, learned acting over other people's shoulders, gotten chewed out and knocked around, and still shed tears of joy over the tiniest supporting parts he'd clawed his way into.
And yet... a kid who looks barely in her early twenties—no, like a teenager—is pulling off a performance like that...
He realized, then, that "genius" was a word you used for the person standing right in front of you. He ought to have been annoyed. That much was true. And yet, somehow, he didn't feel annoyed at all.
Choi Chun-sung glanced at PD Kang Wonseong. The corner of the director's mouth was slightly lifted. It wasn't just Kang Wonseong, either. The other actors were staring at Jiwoo just as intently. Their eyes all said the same things.
What the hell are you? Or: Why did it take you this long to show up?
"You knew, didn't you, PD?"
"Knew what?"
Kang Wonseong played dumb. But Choi Chun-sung had already seen it. The director was covering his mouth with his hand now, but just a moment ago he'd been smiling. And beside him, Writer Kim Eun-joo still wore a look of open astonishment.
"Ah!"
Noticing Choi Chun-sung's gaze sliding toward Kim Eun-joo, Kang Wonseong clapped the writer on the shoulder.
"Ahem! Well done, Jiwoo! Your acting's gotten even better than last time! But..."
"Yes, I know. Kang Sora can never outshine Kang Shin-hye. In the end she's a collaborator. She can't be allowed to look like anything more than that."
"I knew it... you've got a real eye for the script, Jiwoo! That's exactly what I intended. Nobody else picked up on it... ughhh... I've just gotten a brand-new idea!"
Kim Eun-joo poured out praise until her mouth went dry.
"But Jiwoo? How did you know? That Kang Sora must never deliver a performance that outdoes Kang Shin-hye?"
Jiwoo hadn't found it particularly difficult. All she'd done was read the script using her trait.
"You can tell if you read the script as a whole. Kang Sora trains Kang Shin-hye from the sidelines so she can be hailed as a genius singer. That's what makes Kang Jin-woo acknowledge Shin-hye's hard work, too."
"That alone wouldn't be enough to figure it out, though, would it?"
"So I looked at Kang Shin-hye's personality. On the surface she comes off like a tough, take-charge type, but that's not who she really is. Shin-hye is more frightened than anyone."
"That's right! Kang Shin-hye is actually a coward!"
Kim Eun-joo slapped her knee, delighted that Jiwoo had clocked her intent.
From the moment Shin-hye became aware of the ghost, the stage directions were peppered with notes of her startling for no apparent reason. If she'd truly been that fearless type, she would have decided ghosts didn't exist, or simply ignored it. Kang Shin-hye did neither. Even when she sought out a shaman, she wasn't looking for a way to exorcise the ghost—she was looking for a way to capture it. Because she was afraid of the aftermath.
And contrary to Shin-hye's expectations, the talisman she brought home made Kang Sora stick to her like glue. Shin-hye tried everything to shake Sora off, but time marched on regardless, and the day of the monthly evaluation arrived. While Shin-hye, completely unprepared, sat drowning in despair, Sora possessed her and carried out the evaluation—and that became the first small step toward the two of them growing closer.
Which meant Kang Sora's role was support, and support only. If she outacted Kang Shin-hye here, the entire drama would start flowing in the wrong direction.
Kim Eun-joo smiled, happy, watching Jiwoo perform exactly what she had wanted.
"I was surprised the last time I saw you, too, but you keep astonishing me, Jiwoo. Who on earth did you learn acting from?"
At her question, every actor's gaze locked onto Jiwoo. Feeling a flicker of tension under all those incoming stares, Jiwoo still looked toward one actress and answered.
"I... practiced by watching Go Eun-hye's performances."
"Me?"
Go Eun-hye's expression flickered with mild surprise at the sound of her own name.
"Yes. Go Eun-hye's acting has the power to move a person's heart. It isn't flashy on the surface and empty underneath. I was captivated by the way she delivers exactly the message she means to send."
"Heh heh. Well, that does feel nice to hear."
Go Eun-hye smiled, just a little. Until now she had watched the juniors' performances with a blank face or a furrowed brow. This was the first time she had smiled since arriving here.
"Such a young thing, and you speak so prettily, too. If anyone gives you trouble, you come find me. I'll set them straight."
"Thank you, Ms. Go Eun-hye."
"'Ms.' is far too stiff."
The script-reading room detonated.
The number of people Go Eun-hye had ever permitted to call her sunbae was fewer than five. Every actor granted that privilege now reigned as a Top-Tier Actor—which was why she carried the nickname Actor Observation Benchmark.
And that Actor Observation Benchmark had just granted Jiwoo permission to call her sunbae.
Meanwhile, Jiwoo—
Hahh... I almost died of nerves. Why'd she suddenly tell me to call her sunbae?
She knew nothing about actor culture, so she still hadn't grasped how enormous that privilege actually was. All she felt was the weight of dozens of stares pinning her down, like sitting on a bed of needles.
Why... why is everyone staring? Did I say something weird? More importantly... is nobody doing the next line? That was the end of my turn.
The script reading that had felt like it would never end finally did. It had started in the morning, I was sure of that—but when I stepped out of the building, the sun was already going down.
I started heading toward where my manager would be waiting.
That was when—
"Hey!"
I turned at the sharp voice from behind me. Han Mi-young stood there with her arms crossed, wearing an ugly expression.
"You think you can just walk off? Your senior hasn't even left yet. Hah... kids these days have no manners at all, do they?"
I frowned, just a little. I was already running on fumes after the script reading. If I wasted any more energy here, I was pretty sure I'd collapse. I stepped forward, intending to deal with this walking disaster as fast as possible.
"Yes, I'm sorry, sunbae. But... before you start playing senior, maybe you should do something about your acting first? Otherwise..."
I glanced around, confirmed nobody else was nearby, and finished the sentence.
"It doesn't work on me."
"Ah.... This little bitch... who do you think you're talking to! If it weren't... if it weren't for you!!"
Han Mi-young's hand rose above her head. I offered my cheek a little and checked her face. Anxiety and desperation were written all over it.
Over what, exactly?
SMACK!
The sound of impact rang sharp and clear through the parking lot.
"Ah... that stings. If we're done here, can I go? I'm tired."
"Where do you think you're going! We're not done! I... I...!"
One slap apparently wasn't enough. Han Mi-young reached out to grab me.
Any second now, I figured.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
"Jiwoo! Are you all right?!"
PD Kang Wonseong appeared, looking furious, with Writer Kim Eun-joo beside him, her brow furrowed. I'd figured someone would show up around now. I never dreamed it would be the director and the writer.
Kim Eun-joo took one look at my burning face and her expression turned terrifying.
"Han Mi-young! What on earth is this?!"
"No... I..."
"Don't make excuses. Explain yourself!"
If my acting had been mediocre, would Kim Eun-joo and Kang Wonseong have come running just because I got slapped? I could say with absolute certainty that they would not.
I knew that much.
Writer Kim Eun-joo... you need me, don't you?
An interview Kim Eun-joo would give in the future surfaced in my mind.
Someone with an acting ability so solid that no one can suppress it.
Not that I could claim to deliver acting like that. Right now, my acting was a mere C+. A little better than an ordinary person. I'd only been able to earn Go Eun-hye's recognition because I'd copied an actor's talent with my trait.
Kim Eun-joo put herself between us, almost wrapping herself around me, and faced Han Mi-young down.
"I'm removing Han Mi-young from this drama."
"Who do you think you are... the contract's already signed!"
"There are exceptions. If an actor causes an incident or becomes a problem, there's a clause that allows the contract to be terminated. So... please leave."
"PD..."
Han Mi-young pivoted away from Kim Eun-joo and dropped to her knees in front of Kang Wonseong.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"A mistake... it was a mistake... I'm telling you it was a mistake. I'll explain everything, so please... please don't kick me off."
Han Mi-young rubbed her hands together, begging. I hadn't expected her to go this far. I looked at Kang Wonseong, wondering what he would decide.
For the sake of the drama, cutting her here was the right call. But that expression of hers from earlier still bothered me.
"Let's continue this somewhere else."
"PD!"
"There are eyes here, aren't there? We'll move first... and Jiwoo's cheek needs looking after, too."
"...All right. Jiwoo, you head on home. We'll handle what comes next."
I wanted to stick around a little longer. Watching a fight was always the most entertaining part, after all. But looking at the situation, it seemed Kang Wonseong and Kim Eun-joo would only be able to really go at it once I was out of the way. Showing a teenager an adults' fight was probably still a bit early, I supposed.
"All right. I'm sorry... things got bigger because of me."
I bowed my head and apologized to Kang Wonseong and Kim Eun-joo. They accepted the apology, but they made a point of stressing that this was not my fault.
"This is entirely the fault of someone who failed to act like an adult. You don't need to apologize, Jiwoo. And if something like this happens again, you must never just endure it. That's a foolish thing to do."
Kim Eun-joo said it because she was worried about me—that I should never just take it, that I should report it or tell someone. But I knew, down to my bones, that that was a stupid thing to do.
I believed that line once and reported a workplace superior. I ended up leaving the company not long after.
The official reason I'd given was that I couldn't stand working at a company that had bullied me. Everyone knew the real story. Upper management hadn't liked the person who'd filed the report, so they nitpicked every little thing and quietly harassed me until I walked out on my own two feet.
"Yes. Next time I'll be sure to report it."
I nodded, said I would, and climbed into the van. From inside the car I watched Han Mi-young leave the parking lot with Kang Wonseong and Kim Eun-joo. Then I buckled my seatbelt and leaned back against the seat.
"Jiwoo... you're okay, right?"
"Of course I am. She must not work out... it didn't hurt at all."
That was a lie, of course. If Kang Ho-yeon and Choi Gayeong hadn't been in the van, I would have started screaming any second.
Aaaagh!! It hurts so much! It hurts! Why is her hand that vicious?!
I couldn't let it show, so I had no choice but to squeeze my eyes shut and endure the pain.
Next time I am not taking that hit. I'm dodging, no matter what.
I made that resolution for next time, then pressed a cold bottle of water from the van's mini-fridge against my burning cheek.
"Thanks."
"Don't. I'm the one who should be sorry I didn't stop it beforehand. I came along today just in case... want to go to the hospital?"
"Ehh~ if I go to the hospital over a slap, people will say I'm overreacting. Something like this will go down fine if I just ice it a bit... Ah. I should still get home a little late, though. My parents will worry."
"Yeah... let's do that. Gayeong. Head back to the company for now."
I leaned into the departing car, and whether it was the drained stamina or something else, my eyes slowly drifted shut.