First Shoot (2)

"To become a true actor, you only need two conditions. You know what they are?"

After we'd finished our greetings, we stepped into the dressing room that had been set aside for hair and makeup.

Kang Hoyeon hit me with that odd question out of nowhere.

"Um... acting?"

"That's the condition for becoming an actor. I'm talking about a true actor."

A true actor?

Was that supposed to be something different from a regular one? I looked at her, hoping for a hint.

"The first hint is what you're doing right now."

What I was doing right now. At the moment, I had my head in the hands of a professional stylist.

According to Hoyeon, who'd already finished talking it over with the PD and the writer, even a ghost was allowed a certain amount of looks. A ghost wandering around dripping blood in the exact state they'd died in was nothing but a writer's fantasy, she said. Not the real thing.

Kang Sora wasn't an evil spirit.

She was just a ghost who couldn't let go of her regrets and leave the living world behind.

So she didn't have to be a terrifying monster. She could look the way she had in life, when she'd still been chasing her dream.

"How on earth do you take care of skin this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠plump and porcelain-smooth? This face is basically a blessing."

A makeup artist with ten years under her belt poured praise over my skin.

"Right? And look at this hair. Soft, glossy, it just... moves. What shampoo are you even using? Can't you whisper it to me, just a little?"

The veteran stylist was practically drooling over my hair.

Then the curling iron and the brushes started working over my face and my head.

Something cool and soft tapped across my cheeks. Something packed with searing heat tugged at my hair. A ticklish brush swept over my face again and again, and little by little I stopped looking like a teenage student and started looking like Kang Sora.

"Hoyeon unnie... I got it."

"...Huh? Got what?"

"The conditions for becoming a true actor."

I had seen the light.

The condition for becoming a true actor.

It was surviving the hours in the makeup chair.

We were on a clock, so we hadn't been able to go to some expensive salon in Cheongdam. Instead, each agency had chipped in a little money and called in a traveling team.

On skill alone, every one of them was excellent.

The problem was time.

At first I'd believed them completely when they said there wasn't much to do. I barely wore cosmetics on a normal day. Then I saw the dozens—hundreds—of products spread out in front of me, and a wave of pure annoyance rolled in.

"How much longer is this going to take?"

"Hmm... about another hour. Bored?"

I smiled and told her I was fine.

Inside, I wanted to bolt from the room that instant. Even so, this kind of hassle was something I had to put up with.

I chose to be an actor. So... I've got to gut this out through sheer spite!

A long while later, the dryer and the curling iron still wouldn't quit, and the brushes kept tapping at my face.

After a full three-hour operation, the finished product finally appeared.

"Wow... you guys are incredible! Nobody does it like you!"

Kang Hoyeon bounced in place.

Was it really that good? I checked the mirror.

Hair that had been a little messy was now a soft, glossy black that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wouldn't have looked out of place on a top-tier idol, with a natural curl that waved all the way down to the center of my chest.

"Wow... I'm pretty."

I didn't hold back the compliments for the version of me that had, at some point, become beautiful.

Sitting in the mirror was the Kang Sora I had only ever pictured in my head.

At the same time, Hwangso Entertainment.

In the CEO's office sat Kim Kang-mo, the president of Hwangso Entertainment.

Between a face that looked like it had a rotten temper, a bristly beard of uncertain last-shave date, and the tailored suits he always wore, plenty of people mistook him for a gangster.

It wasn't all that far from the truth.

Kim Kang-mo looked up from the report he'd been reading.

"How the hell did this happen? I distinctly told you to wreck the shoot."

Besides Kim Kang-mo, three other people were in the office. One of them was Hwangso Entertainment's flagship actress, Han Mi-young, along with her managers.

"W-we, uh, we reached out to the supporting cast instead of the leads and warned them not to get friendly with anyone."

"That's all you've got? You think that's enough to tank a production? Try using your head a little more."

"I-I'm sorry... We'll come up with something better."

"And you?"

"I-I hired a few of the on-set staff and told them to get in the way as much as they could."

"Not enough. Did you call the investors?"

"Yes... The ones we could pull have all said they're out. But... filming's already started. They said it's too late to walk now."

"Tell them we'll cover the penalty. They dare dump us? Over some two-bit PD?"

Kim Kang-mo pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

"Yes, sir."

"Understood."

"Tsk. Get out."

Watching the two managers scramble out the door, Kim Kang-mo blew out a stream of smoke and looked at Han Mi-young, still sitting in her chair.

"Mi-young."

"Y-yes!"

"Don't be so tense. What, you think I'm gonna eat you?"

"N-no... M-more importantly, what did you want to...?"

"There's this hyungnim I know. I was thinking maybe we ought to introduce our Mi-young to him."

"Th-that's..."

"What? You don't want to?"

"N-no! O-of course I do!"

At the answer he'd expected, Kim Kang-mo smiled thinly.

"If you make a good impression, you'll be the lead in the next movie he shoots. How about that? You've always said you wanted to do a film."

"R-right... A movie. I want to be in one."

"Good. I'll set up a meeting. Wear something pretty when you come. Got it?"

"...Yes."

"All right. Go on out and get some more practice in."

"...P-pardon me."

Once Han Mi-young had left as well, the smile from a moment ago dropped off his face. He stuck another cigarette in his mouth.

Listening to the voice on the other end, Kim Kang-mo's mouth curled up at the corner.

He hung up and looked down at the stack of papers on his desk.

Across the top of the pile, it read:

Around one in the afternoon.

I swept a look around the Ghost Singer set, hunting for lunch.

Morning filming was already over, and a few of the actors were nowhere to be seen—probably resting.

I was going to eat with them and get friendly...

In my hands were a measly five lunchboxes.

Kang Hoyeon had handed them over and told me to get close to the other actors. With nobody around, though, I had no choice but to eat alone.

This is actually perfect.

Yesterday I'd had to abandon dinner halfway through because of filming, and I'd skipped breakfast too. At this point my stomach was one breath away from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sticking to my spine.

I'll eat all of these and just say we shared them.

I glanced around, confirmed there wasn't a soul in sight, and tucked myself into a corner.

I was in the middle of happily tearing through the lunchboxes when, from far off, a member of the directing staff bellowed.

"We go in thirty minutes! Everybody gather up!"

The crew snapped into motion toward their positions. Before long the actors, who'd been hiding who-knew-where, started appearing too, clearing their throats.

Oh—oh no! I've only eaten four!

The last remaining box was a pork cutlet lunchbox, my favorite, and throwing it away would have been a crime. Saving it for dinner, though, and it would go bad.

I had no choice but to make a call.

"Um... Choi Chun-sung!"

"...Huh? Who's calling me?"

I'd caught him just as he was passing in front of me. He stopped and looked around, searching for the source of the voice.

"A-actor! Here. This is for you. I wasn't... going to eat it myself, but it's my favorite, so it should be good. Anyway! I have to go film!"

I shoved the pork cutlet lunchbox into his hands and ran for PD Kang Wonseong, who was already barking orders on set.

"Jiwoo. Did you eat a proper lunch? Sorry, but if you eat too much it shows on camera, so you absolutely have to keep it in check. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I know. I ate a reasonable amount."

"Well... I'm sure you did. All right, we're going straight into it. Your first scene is you singing alone in the practice room. It's the first shot, so don't put too much pressure on yourself. Just relax and film."

"Understood."

I nodded, and the nerves were already setting in.

Wow... my hands are shaking. They didn't shake this much when I was busking.

My heart was hammering like I'd just sprinted at full tilt.

No—I'd been shaking since morning, actually.

That shaking was the only reason I hadn't polished off all five lunchboxes the way I normally would have, easy.

This is it... this is really it. Breathe. Breathe, Lee Jiwoo!!

A tension on a completely different level from the table read crashed over me. Fair enough.

A table read wasn't the real shoot, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even if you messed up, there was nobody there to chew you out for it.

This was the real thing. Practice and live fire were not the same, no matter how much you pretended they were.

Grrrrl.

Thunder rolled around in my stomach.

I should've eaten every last bite even if it made me late. I'm starving...

Before I knew it, I was walking onto the set. Cameras, crew, and the other actors were all staring straight at me.

The actors' eyes, especially, were the eyes of people hoping I'd screw up.

"Stand by—cue!"

PD Kang Wonseong's voice snapped me back.

Right. Forget trying to nail it in one take.

My dream wasn't "success," was it? It was making enough money that I never had to slaving away as somebody else's errand girl again.

I closed my eyes for a second.

Then I moved my mouth, thinking not of Ghost Kang Sora but of how Kang Sora would have sung when she was still alive, and let out the first syllable.

"Ah...!!"

Oh. Oh no.

I cracked.