The Hidden Clip
At five in the evening, with the last of the sunlight still stretched long across the sky, a car came to a gentle stop in front of an old building in Daehangno.
I tucked the script under my arm and reached for the seat belt.
The moment I opened the door, Hwang Dong-jun turned his head and looked at me.
“Go in first. I’ll park and wait in the dressing room.”
“Yes, hyung.”
When I got out and shut the door, the car glided past me.
Hwang Dong-jun lowered the driver’s-side window and waved with a grin.
“Our Han Seo-jun, fighting!”
“...Yes, fighting!”
I clenched a fist and echoed him on reflex.
What a random, cringe-inducing show of support. Still, you had to play along with a mood like that.
The expression that had been twisted tight the first time I met him had already changed this much, and for that alone, I could only be relieved.
At the entrance, my eyes met those of a woman in black who had been staring at me intently.
“You’re Actor Han Seo-jun, right?”
“Yes.”
“Wow, you’re so handsome I don’t even know how to put it into words.”
Her mouth fell open as admiration spilled out of her without the slightest restraint.
“Thank you.”
The old Han Seo-jun would have brushed off a reaction like that without a second thought, but it was still unfamiliar to me.
I felt embarrassed, yes, but since it was praise I’d never received before, I couldn’t help feeling oddly pleased too.
Especially during the two years I’d spent as an idol, I’d been corrected often enough by the manager I had back then.
He’d told me to put on my makeup properly.
He’d said I was ruining the bright, refreshing image of an idol group because of me.
But now, the way people looked at me had changed completely.
They might be sneering inwardly and calling me the “King of Terrible Acting,” but their faces were full of admiration.
What’s more, today I had to show Director Kang So-hee what I’d prepared, so my hair and makeup were already done.
By the time I’d looked at myself in the mirror wearing the stage outfit I’d prepared, even I had to admit I’d been impressed for a moment, so it made sense that everyone else would react this way.
Honestly, this world was useless without one thing.
Being handsome was everything.
I followed the woman as she led the way down the actors’ passage.
She stopped ahead of me, drew back one side of the curtain, and said, “Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
I bowed my head to her, the woman who had clenched a little fist in my direction as if cheering me on.
Before me, bright, warm stage lights spilled across the auditorium.
Beyond them, the audience seats rose in a gentle slope, and at the very back, a dusty stand light stood alone, lonely in the darkness.
The theater held six rows, roughly a hundred seats altogether.
It was a small, intimate black-box theater, the kind that suited a stage no bigger than the palm of a hand.
At the front of the stage, right where it met the audience, there was a small folding table, and behind it sat Kang So-hee, her eyes lowered to the script spread open before her.
I crossed the stage and came to a stop in front of her, then cleared my throat lightly.
“Director, hello. I’m Han Seo-jun.”
She lifted her head and looked at me.
For a brief moment, her eyes glittered in the light.
“Ah, yes. You rested well?”
“Yes. Thanks to you, I rested well.”
Of course, that was only polite small talk.
Ever since I’d received the script, I’d been busy the whole time.
I’d memorized my lines and imagined the expressions and movements of the character inside each scene, trying to become the protagonist in the way I understood him.
“...Hmm.”
With a faint smile touching her lips, the director pulled out a single sheet of paper that had been tucked inside the script.
She looked at the paper in her hand for a moment, then shifted her gaze to me.
She was comparing the image of the protagonist, Han Woo-hyun, drawn there with the way I looked now.
On the day I signed the contract, she had handed me that sheet and told me it was the image she had in mind for Han Woo-hyun.
She’d asked me to match that atmosphere if possible.
And today, before coming here, I’d gone down to the agency’s basement makeup room and had myself dressed up to match that drawing as closely as I could.
The three staff members in charge of my hair and makeup had practically lost their minds when they saw the finished result.
They said I looked exactly like the figure in the illustration.
That was a bit excessive, of course, but I was satisfied to feel that my reflection did carry something of the same atmosphere as the sketch.
I’d been a little nervous on the inside, but the instant I saw the director’s face, my mind eased.
A deeply satisfied smile had bloomed all over her expression.
“Wow, it’s exactly the same, huh?”
As though speaking to herself, she lifted the paper into the air.
Holding it up at roughly my eye level and rolling her gaze over me, the corners of her mouth climbed higher and higher.
“Honestly, that’s art. Real art!”
She laughed until the fine lines at the corners of her eyes crinkled deep.
She spent a long while looking so pleased, as if she’d gone dazed with satisfaction, before finally lowering the paper at last.
“Good. Then let’s start with the choreography today. The other members ran through their parts this morning, but since the lead selection took a bit longer, I think the full lineup won’t come together until next week.”
“Understood.”
“You can leave the script on that table over there.”
Her eyes lingered for a moment on the script in my hand as she pointed toward a small round table at one side of the stage.
“Oh, but...”
“Yes?”
Her gaze had taken on a strange brightness, and following it, I looked down at the script too.
“What happened to this script?”
“This?”
At the director’s wide-eyed expression, I couldn’t help letting out an awkward laugh.
Colorful Post-it notes were packed densely across the pages, and the worn corners had gone all wrinkled from handling.
“May I take a quick look?”
“Of course.”
I stepped forward and handed her the script.
“...Oh my goodness...!”
Kang So-hee was famous for not showing her emotions on her face, but this time she looked shocked enough that her mouth opened on its own.
Flipping through the pages one by one, she lifted her eyes to me with amazement.
“No, how far have you gotten already? This thick script is half blackened by hand marks.”
“......”
“What are all these Post-its? Do they each mean something?”
“Yes. I marked the emotional shifts in how the protagonist treats the other person by section. On the outside, he’s only twenty, but inside he’s a man in his mid-thirties, so I thought I needed to catch that duality precisely. Even if he’s time-slipped and become twenty again, I figured that if his speech and behavior became completely identical to people his age, the audience might feel something was off.”
“...Ah, I see.”
The director nodded with clear satisfaction.
“Unlike the other four, I really did well to cast an actor. To think you’d already picked up on something that subtle.”
“Thank you.”
“...But, you know.”
Looking down at the script again, she snorted softly.
“Actor Han Seo-jun’s handwriting is terrible too. You’ve filled the margins with all sorts of notes, but there isn’t a single word I can read.”
“.....!”
“Well, anyway...”
With the corners of her mouth lifted high, Director Kang held the script out to me again.
“I did see it at the audition before, but that was only for a short time. Since it’s page twenty-four, shall we start by looking at the choreography? The first dance the protagonist shows in the basement practice room after possessing Han Woo-hyun’s body... that should be right, yes?”
“Yes. I’ll show you.”
“Good.”
I walked over and set the script down on the table.
When I returned to the center of the stage and stood there, Director Kang raised one hand slightly.
Tum-ta-tum! Tum! Tum! Tum-ta-tum! Tum! Tum!
As the drum intro rang out, my body began moving naturally to the rhythm, as if it had been waiting for this all along.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
“.....!”
Director Kang So-hee’s eyes went round as dinner plates the moment she looked up at the stage.
Just Han Seo-jun’s subtle nodding in time with the drumbeat was enough to draw every eye in the room.
I had already noted it carefully in the script.
How to use that handsome face to express the perfect texture of charm through expression and even the shape of a smile.
But then,
the final beat of the intro sounded,
and with a thunderous burst of percussion—
BOOM!!
Han Seo-jun’s body shot up into the air.
With both arms spread wide and level, his legs and toes carved a perfect curve as he balanced for a split second in midair.
The instant his toes touched down,
his hands and feet moved again in rapid succession, following the relentlessly flowing beat without a single gap for breath.
His hair flew as he threw his head back,
and his body rolled with elastic force into a back handspring.
The way his outstretched hand sliced through the air and pointed toward the seats made it feel as though even a burst of light had exploded from the tip of his finger.
And then,
- Where could it be,
- The wind from the day I first lost you
- passes by my lungs,
- and my heart collapses again.
A voice exploded out, powerful and unrestrained.
“......!!”
They had come only to check the choreography,
but he had layered the song on top of it too.
No—
was it even really possible to sing while performing choreography that intense?
Without the slightest wavering in pitch?
With vocals that perfect, that outstanding?
Shivering with gooseflesh, Director Kang So-hee covered her mouth with her hand before she even realized she’d done it.
Her pupils were still full of Han Seo-jun’s figure, racing through the dazzling choreography.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The third floor of Blizzard Entertainment’s headquarters.
There was a knock at General Manager Kang Min-gyu’s office door.
“...Come in.”
The team two manager appeared inside the office, and behind him came Actor Ha Ju-young.
The team two manager, wearing a pale grin, looked around at the people seated on the sofa.
General Manager Kang was there, along with the team three manager and Actress Lee Hwa-young.
On a one-person sofa to one side sat veteran actress Jang Mi-ran, script in hand, watching the two people who had just come in.
“What, are you having a meeting here or something? Why is everyone gathered?”
“More importantly, why are you here, Team Two?”
At General Manager Kang’s question, the team two manager smiled with practiced ease.
“Well, your office TV is the biggest, isn’t it? The program’s starting soon. This is the place to check our actor’s skill, so where else would be more meaningful than this?”
“Well, aren’t you smooth.”
With a snort of laughter, General Manager Kang jerked his chin lightly toward Ha Ju-young.
“Have you lost much weight lately?”
At that, Ha Ju-young looked away for a moment.
“...Yes.”
“Oh, Actor Ha Ju-young’s really been working hard these days. He’s eating only one meal a day and going to the gym every day.”
The team two manager spoke up on his behalf, as if defending the man seated beside him.
“...Is that so?”
General Manager Kang gave him a once-over and then turned away.
Seeing the look in his eye, the team two manager quickly jumped in again.
“So where are the lead actor and Hwang Dong-jun today? I didn’t see them in Team One’s office either. Are they hiding somewhere and watching separately?”
“I heard the director had a one-on-one meeting with them today.”
Lee Hwa-young replied while brushing her hair back with her fingers.
Jang Mi-ran raised her eyebrows at that.
“Oh? And how do you know that?”
“I made a bet with Manager Hwang Dong-jun. We were supposed to watch together, but because of the schedule, he said they couldn’t make it.”
“A bet? What kind of bet?”
“Well, it’s a little hard to tell you, unni. It’s personal.”
As Lee Hwa-young smiled with a meaningful air, Jang Mi-ran clicked her tongue.
“Honestly, pretty things are all full of secrets.”
Even so, a laugh tugged at her lips.
“Our handsome Han Seo-jun is keeping his skills hidden from us too. Same agency, same miniseries, and he hasn’t even told me a word.”
“You’ve got to have something to show before you show it.”
“Still, how would you know? Maybe he’s been working himself to the bone all this time. I mean, he has to have some ability. There’s no way they’d cast a total disaster as the lead in a Netflix miniseries.”
“Maybe he hid it on purpose to build buzz? If he stirs up interest like this and then reveals the skill of a ‘hidden master’ with one big bang, wouldn’t that become a huge issue?”
At Ha Ju-young’s words, laughter broke out around the room.
“Hey, you know that guy, so why are you saying that?”
“Who knows? Real masters always show their skills at the very end.”
“You’re talking like you’ve stepped out of a movie. Honestly.”
As laughter spread from all sides, Ha Ju-young shrugged.
He wasn’t the type to care much about what other people thought.
In fact, he’d come here partly because he wanted to face the music for the role he’d lost by failing to manage his weight.
When the attention shifted onto him, he turned to Lee Hwa-young and casually changed the subject.
“Hey, isn’t this time supposed to be that show where you banter with the manager while drinking explosive soju cocktails? Who are you going out with? If you need someone right now... should I lend you my hyung?”
Lee Hwa-young gave a faint, contemptuous smile.
“Why don’t you put those worries away? You’re suggesting I should drag your manager in here? I’d rather just cancel the broadcast.”
“......!”
The team two manager patted the stiff-backed Ha Ju-young on the back.
“Hey, enough. Save that for later and watch the TV. It’s showtime now.”
“Exactly. The internet’s probably already blowing up. I saw a YouTuber streaming it live earlier.”
“Hah. People really do have too much time on their hands.”
General Manager Kang said that, but before he knew it, his eyes had moved to the television too.
And then at last,
the host on-screen smiled brightly and opened their mouth.
“......!!”
Lee Hwa-young’s expression twisted in an instant.
She bit down hard on her lip, and her brow drew sharply together.
---