Chapter 150: An Old Artist’s Soul Rekindles
Chapter 150: An Old Artist’s Soul Rekindles
The wall mirrors turned transparent.
There was an audience behind them.
Countless audience members, believing all of this was a planned performance, watched with moved eyes.
The greatest art unfolding in silence.
They mistook it for a stage expressing human anguish and ruin.
Gu Sunwoo overcame his slump and came back.
As expected of a genius. How does he make that expression?
Thinking that, someone soaked in emotion wiped the corner of their eye, someone nodded, and someone raised a hand and tapped at nothing but air.
Hoo— hoo— hoo—
Soundless applause.
The hollow clapping beyond the glass wall stimulated Gu Sunwoo.
Gu Sunwoo’s mouth opened wide.
His jaw dropped down as if it might dislocate.
At first, only a hoarse sound leaked out.
The vibration scraping his vocal cords was nakedly visible through the skin of his throat.
His chest jerked violently, leaving only the body’s last gesture of nerves resisting.
But in the next instant, the air that had been suppressed burst out all at once.
“Nooooooo!!!”
A scream.
A forbidden sound that must never come out in an era of silence.
It was a self-issued death sentence.
The audience’s faces froze at once.
Hands that had been clapping stopped in midair.
Only then did they realize.
This wasn’t acting.
Gu Sunwoo just died right in front of us.
The next moment was chaos.
People desperately covered their mouths and ran for the exits, shoving each other.
They fell, collided, and fled in silence.
Gu Sunwoo lay collapsed on the floor, convulsing.
To the very end, he watched people running away.
And then, slowly—very slowly—his breath stopped.
“……”
Silence settled again.
No one remained.
No applause, no admiration, no noise.
Then the camera slowly closed in on Gu Sunwoo’s face where he lay on the floor.
Past pale skin, past stiffened lips, it reached his eyes at last.
Inside the black, opened pupils, the empty audience seats were reflected.
At the center was a single chair.
Because someone had stood up in a hurry, the chair was swaying ever so slightly back and forth.
The camera moved closer.
The chair’s sway filled Gu Sunwoo’s entire pupil.
There were no captions.
No explanations.
Only one chair, still trembling faintly on screen, and some gaze—watching that trembling to the very end.
As the takes repeated, a heavy stillness hung over the set.
No one could bring themselves to speak.
Instead of relief that filming was over, shock at what they had just witnessed dominated everyone’s mind.
The process of a human soul being destroyed and extinguished.
It had been seen too nakedly, so only stammered fragments could come out.
“Wow…”
“This is insane… seriously…”
“He doesn’t feel human… seriously…”
“How does he create the sensation of fear with that face…?”
The staff’s admiration went beyond praise—closer to awe.
And instinctively, they knew.
They had just witnessed the birth of a scene that would remain long in film history.
“I can say with certainty, this is going to be an all-time best ending scene that people talk about for ages.”
“Agreed. This would get a standing ovation at any film festival…”
“So this is how powerful a single actor can be…”
“God… I still can’t stop getting chills…”
While everyone was still flailing in the afterglow, only Director Baek Junbong shouted in a grim voice.
“Keep going! Before the emotion cools!”
He didn’t want to let this tension drop.
His head filled with only one thought: they had to push forward and capture the remaining angles fast.
So they drove the shoot, captured every cut from the other angles, and finally Director Baek Junbong cried out with a voice full of exhilaration.
“Okay!! That’s a wrap! Full crank-up! Great work, everyone!”
“Waaaaaah!”
Cheers and applause filled the set.
Their eyes naturally went to Ryu Sunho.
It was respect and gratitude for giving everything to the end.
Ryu Sunho walked out through staff split to either side.
Somehow, the cold chill of Gu Sunwoo had already drained from his expression, replaced by warm calm.
“You’ve all worked hard.”
Ryu Sunho approached each staff member and bowed first.
Even after putting on that overwhelming performance, he showed no arrogance—he even carefully looked after the youngest staff.
That moved the staff even more, filling them with deeper emotion and fulfillment.
“We lived for filming you, Sunho. Watching through the lens gave me goosebumps.”
“You worked the hardest, Sunho. Are you okay? It looked like you hit yourself hard when you fell earlier.”
“It was an honor to make such an amazing work together with Actor Sunho.”
In the warm atmosphere, actors and staff patted each other’s backs, comforting one another for the hard work.
Because they were confident in the film’s quality, the mood was higher than ever.
“Ah! I’m so glad I joined!”
“Let’s go to Cannes!!!”
“Let’s hit a career high!!!”
As excited voices burst out, the assistant director approached Director Baek Junbong with a flushed face.
“Director, should we go to that old barbecue place for the wrap party?”
Director Baek Junbong was a famous heavy drinker in Chungmuro.
Especially on crank-up day, he was infamous for an all-night, no-mercy wrap party where he gathered everyone—staff and actors alike—and drank until dawn.
But—
“No. Dismissed! Everyone go home!”
Director Baek Junbong waved his hand firmly at the staff.
Silence fell.
“…Pardon?”
The assistant director asked back, doubting his ears.
“No wrap party today. Pack up and go home.”
“No, Director. Today is crank-up… Everyone was looking forward to it…”
“Where do you think we have time to guzzle alcohol right now? That young friend showed that much passion, and if an old man sits here whining about booze, what kind of man would that make me? We’re already tight on time until the Cannes submission deadline!”
Director Baek Junbong didn’t even look back.
He gathered his things and left the set.
The will to go straight to the editing room was burning on his back.
The staff left behind stared at each other with blank faces.
“…I’ve never seen the director like that.”
“Seriously… Director Baek of all people refusing alcohol. On crank-up day, too.”
“He’s properly hooked.”
“Yeah. If I got that kind of material, I don’t think I’d feel like drinking either. Wouldn’t your hands itch to cut it together right away?”
An old artist’s soul rekindling.
Faced with that sharp, blazing passion, the staff could only smack their lips and nod.
“Still, the movie is going to come out insanely good.”
“Let’s clean up and go get some sleep.”
Even though there was no wrap party like they expected, no one complained.
“Sunho. You really work like an ox.”
In the moving car, Team Leader Jo Sehun clicked his tongue.
Filming for “Mueon:ga” had ended, but that didn’t mean I suddenly had time to rest.
We had to prepare the fan meeting.
The agency had already set the big parts—venue booking, goods, stage direction.
But the content, the heart of the fan meeting, was still unfinished.
Ah, right. I thought I said I showed my planned ideas to another team leader too.
How was the reaction?
“Team Leader Heo was going crazy saying it was fun. He asked if he could come to the fan meeting himself.”
Then that was a relief.
He must have run Seo Yoonha’s fan meetings multiple times.
If even he found it new and fun, it passed the first gate.
A little later, we arrived at a studio on the outskirts of Seoul.
Compared to “Mueon:ga” or “Doctor Princess,” the set felt extremely simple.
But even if the set was simple, the manpower filling it was anything but.
“Hello, Director.”
“Oh! Our Actor Ryu! You’ve been well?”
Director Chae Wongi greeted me with his signature hearty laugh.
Honestly, the budget was nowhere near enough to hire Director Chae for this kind of shoot, but I heard he gladly stepped in because of his ties with me.
“Thanks to our Actor Ryu, I even won the Korea Advertising Awards that would’ve stayed as regret. So I should help with something like this.”
“Thank you, Director. You must be busy.”
“Busy? I’m unemployed now. Before I go on my reward vacation, I should work my body a bit.”
Director Chae Wongi waved it off and tapped my shoulder.
“And it’s not just loyalty, either. When I saw the plan, it looked really fun.”
Looks like he’d been shown the plan in advance and persuaded.
Once again, I felt grateful for Team Leader Jo Sehun’s seasoned recruiting skill.
“I called in all the staff we worked with on ‘Doctor Princess’ and pulled them together. Let’s get an absolutely killer cut today.”
Looking around, I saw familiar faces.
The lighting director, the audio director, even the youngest staff.
All elite members who had shared hardship together on the drama set.
“Alright, we don’t have time, so let’s go right in.”
Director Chae Wongi added with a playful grin.
“You ready? Actor Ryu—no, should I call you Writer Ryu today? Since you wrote the script and are directing too.”
One month later.
London, England. Buckingham Palace.
Queen Olivia was watching the final episode of “Doctor Princess” in her room.
The scene where the female lead, Alicia, chose the life of a doctor, breaking free of the royal family’s shackles.
And the decision of the drama’s royal family, acknowledging it with the dignified word “deferral.”
At that scene, Queen Olivia adjusted her glasses and smiled with satisfaction.
Well done.
It was like she was projecting her younger self onto Alicia, feeling vicarious fulfillment.
In public, she was cold and strong enough to be called the “Iron Lady,” but even the queen was an elderly woman with rich sensitivity in her private life.
More than anything… this male lead actor is truly classic.
The queen’s gaze fixed on Han Jusin.
A deep, melancholic look that was hard to find in young actors these days.
It carried nostalgia, like Alain Delon or Gregory Peck—figures she had admired in her youth.
Then—
Knock, knock.
With the sound of knocking, Princess Shupi entered.
She wore a trench coat.
Unlike the past, when she looked like a pure child, she now carried the poise of a fairly mature woman.
“Grandmother, I’m leaving.”
“Oh, Shupi. Is it already time to depart?”
“Yes. I finished the final schedule check with my attendants. The official pretext is ‘Korea–UK cultural exchange exploration,’ but…”
Princess Shupi winked and added, “It’s true that I’m going to satisfy my personal feelings. Because I’m a fan now too.”
She was honest and bold.
The queen looked at her with a pleased expression, as if she didn’t dislike that granddaughter.
“I heard from the executive secretary that you’re going to that drama lead’s fan meeting.”
Queen Olivia gave a benevolent smile, then set down her teacup and said elegantly, “Since you’re going, seduce him and bring him back.”
“Yes. …Pardon?!”
Shupi reflexively started to nod, then froze, doubting her ears.