Ad-lib!

The drama's additional shoot.

I stood on set, and facing me was my scene partner, Jin Joo-hwa — Kang Shin-hye.

The two of us had come to the end of every last incident. It was time to say goodbye.

Which meant the ghost Kang Sora had fulfilled her grudge — or rather, her wish.

I spoke first.

"I'm sorry..."

I forced the words out in a trembling voice, packing into them a warm look and the aching wish not to leave — to stay stuck to her side forever.

"W-wait! This was it? This is what you... no, what Kang Sora wanted? Just this?"

What Kang Sora wanted was not revenge on the one who had killed her. Nothing of the kind.

All she had wanted was to share a single meal together, to watch her little sister laugh and play and make her way through the world alone.

"Yeah. That's right. That was everything I... and... all of... my..."

The rest of the words would not come.

Time was almost up.

The talisman holding Kang Sora's soul to Kang Shin-hye was losing its power fast. Soon my voice would no longer reach her ears at all.

One line left. I had to pour everything into that single sentence.

The line in the script was this:

Of course, anyone who had watched every episode up to this point — and everyone standing on set — knew exactly who Kang Sora meant by "everyone."

But it did not sit right with me.

If this were the real Kang Sora, she would not have asked for a favor. She would have said something else.

Kang Sora ran to Kang Shin-hye and swept her into a fierce embrace.

The instant he heard Jiwoo's line, PD Kang Wonseong checked the script laid out on his chair.

That's different. That isn't the original script.

Which meant it was an ad-lib.

A newcomer — not some veteran with years behind her — throwing out an ad-lib?

By every rule, he should have called cut on the spot.

But Kang Wonseong could not bring himself to break the scene. Atmosphere, circumstance — cutting here was the kind of thing only a third-rate director would do.

The staff around him were getting worked up.

"Wow... she's a rookie, right? And she still threw out an ad-lib in a moment like that..."

"I almost cried without even realizing it. How do you take a warm goodbye and make it this sad?"

"Right? So it's not just me?"

That last line had turned a warm farewell into a scene of grief and mourning.

Is this a provocation aimed at Jin Joo-hwa? Or... has she sunk so deep into the role she can't climb out?

There were actors like that from time to time. They fell so far into a part that they stopped following the script and delivered every line as an ad-lib. Directors, as a rule, did not care for them. There was no telling which way the footage would go.

Jin Joo-hwa — no, Kang Shin-hye — said nothing at all.

"....."

She only stared, blank and unblinking, at Kang Sora delivering that last line and walking away.

Then, inside her head, she moved.

Kang Shin-hye reached out — and her hand clenched into a fist and fell. A presence she wanted to hold and could not.

A faint warmth from childhood still lingered in her arms.

"Uh... uhh... uh..."

No. No way. It can't be.

Kang Shin-hye prayed it was not true, told herself it was not true, even as her mouth began to come open.

That was when it hit her — forgotten memories of the past, slamming into her mind with brutal force.

She flinched, and her mouth opened.

"U-unni!"

She screamed it at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sky. The cry was so loud it stabbed straight through the ears of the sound director, who had been riding the levels up because Kang Shin-hye had been so quiet.

Jiwoo jumped at the voice too.

"Okay! Cut!"

With Kang Wonseong's okay, Jiwoo's additional shoot was over.

"You both did well. Especially you, Jiwoo."

"Ah... I-I'm sorry."

Jiwoo bowed her head in apology.

A rookie, of all people, just tossing out an ad-lib like that. Completely insane.

Heat rushed into her face in an instant; she could feel herself burning.

"No, it's fine. That last ad-lib actually fits the tone of the piece. A scene where she takes even the hard memories and turns them into happy ones for her little sister, then disappears — it had our eyes welling up. This is definitely going to land."

Kang Wonseong patted my shoulder and told me not to worry.

Was that really true?

I looked around. People were giving me a thumbs-up, saying I had done well — and Kim Eun-joo, in particular, was charging straight toward us.

"Jiwoo! That was wonderful! Honestly, even I was only half-convinced when I wrote this scene as an extra. We were so short on time I couldn't even properly check it, and then... ughhh..."

Kim Eun-joo ducked her head, grabbed my shoulders with a face lit up with excitement, and held on.

"You really did beautifully! From here we leave it to this gangster PD, and... the rest, leave to us!"

"Ah... yes. I'll be in your care."

Leave what to them, exactly?

I couldn't make sense of it, but the mood left me no choice but to nod.

After that we shot a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠few more takes from other angles, and my additional filming was done.

Before, I had been too busy racing the clock to notice. Today there was no need to rush, so we filmed with actual breaks in between, and somehow...

"Huh... why is the sun going down?"

The next day.

SBD Broadcast Center. More than a hundred reporters had packed themselves into the building.

The reason was written across a massive banner.

And then—

"Thanks to a great PD and great actors, it was a shoot I was able to learn a great deal from."

Choi Chun-sung answered the reporter's question, and the rest of the Ghost Singer team sat in a row behind the long table with him.

Watching actors who offered nothing but praise, the reporters cursed inwardly. How is every last one of them only saying nice things? There's nothing here I can even put in an article. Can't someone throw us a scrap? A tabloid crumb would be enough.

Their faces, though, were brightly pleasant. Kang Wonseong — the man they called a giant of the drama world — was the one leading this production, and the reporters who had once mouthed off at him without knowing better, only to get verbally beaten like dogs, were smiling hardest of all.

Still, they could not back down that easily. They turned their questions on Kim Eun-joo.

"Writer Kim Eun-joo! There has been a great deal of talk surrounding this Ghost Singer. Among the rumors is one that a newcomer was seated in a lead supporting role. Would you tell us who that actress is?!"

The small smile Kim Eun-joo had been wearing hardened for the first time.

"I'm not sure I understand what the reporter intends by that remark. I've spent so many years doing nothing but writing, you see. Difficult language has never been my strong suit."

For a writer — and a star writer at that — to claim she did not understand the meaning of a sentence was a hard thing to swallow. In other words: the level of question you people are throwing does not deserve an answer.

"That said, if we leave the room this unsettled, it would be rude to the reporters and to the actors alike. Hmm..."

Kim Eun-joo rested her chin lightly on her hand, thought it over, and leaned back into the microphone.

"The gossip you reporters have heard is wrong. Apart from the principal leads, every remaining role was cast through auditions, and in that process we looked at ability alone. Whether that actor was a newcomer or a Top-Tier Actor, everyone was given an equal chance."

Kim Eun-joo glanced along the table, from Kang Wonseong beside her to every actor present. They were all nodding, just slightly, as if to say they agreed.

Then—

"Hold on. I have something to say as well."

Go Eun-hye took the microphone.

This was Go Eun-hye, who in every production presentation until now had never once reached for a mic. The reporters typed the word scoop and waited for her mouth to open.

It was the tone of a parent cautioning a child. At that pointed emphasis, the reporters' typing hands faltered for a beat.

"Ms. Go Eun-hye... acknowledged her..."

Someone murmured it, and the stopped hands started moving again.

"She truly is an actress Go Eun-hye has acknowledged?!"

"Who is she!"

"Can't you give us even a brief introduction?!"

"Does PD Kang Wonseong acknowledge her as well!"

The stir among a hundred-odd reporters swelled past anyone's control.

"I-it's a scoop! The fifth actress Go Eun-hye has ever acknowledged! Write that another star has been born in this country!"

The press conference grew louder with the hammering of laptop keys than with human voices.

"Well, now... the work we were supposed to do, and the teacher went and stole the first move."

Kang Wonseong scratched the back of his head at support fire he had never seen coming.

Flash after flash. Shutters rattling without a pause. The press conference collapsed into a madhouse.

Kim Eun-joo jabbed Kang Wonseong in the side — the PD who had just had the first shot stolen out from under him.

"So is PD Kang just going to sit there? You promised. You said to leave the aftermath to us."

"I did... I promised, but this was a little more than I expected."

"When has this industry ever gone the way anyone expected? Some days are just like this."

"That's true enough. Hah... no helping it. The place is already a zoo. One more word from me isn't going to make it any worse."

Kang Wonseong took the microphone and tossed a single line at the reporters.

"That said, write a little slowly about that actress, would you? She's still at an age where just finding her own dream is more than enough. Pile too many expectations on her this early and the pressure's a given."

A deliberately vague remark.

The reporters spent a moment turning it over.

And once the calculation was done, they could not hide their excitement.

"PD, are you saying she isn't even a professional actress yet?!"

"D-don't tell me she acts as a hobby...? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠And that kind of actress still delivered a performance worthy of Go Eun-hye's recognition?!"

The questions poured out one after another. At this rate the press conference would turn into a cattle market, and Kang Wonseong shot a look at the moderator.

The time was about up anyway. Ending it here would be no problem.

"Well then, we've reached the end of our time, so we will take one last question and close the press conference."

"Me!"

"I'll take it!"

"Then... the reporter in the white collar shirt, there!"

The chosen reporter stood and lifted the microphone.

His gaze went to Jin Joo-hwa.

"A question for Jin Joo-hwa. PD Kang said that actress acts as a hobby. How does it look from where you sit? You've spent more than ten years unknown. Does it look like 'that much' to you as well? Doesn't it make you jealous?"

A question with a sneer in it.

This was not a question aimed at Jiwoo. It was aimed solely at carving down Jin Joo-hwa's dignity.

Jin Joo-hwa put on her usual smile and leaned into the mic.

"Reporter. The only reason I spent so long unknown is that I simply wasn't good enough at acting. There is no other reason. Jealous?"

She let out a short laugh.