Just a Little Time
"Please give me just a little time."
The staff moved about in a busy flurry, each attending to their assigned roles. Whether in his past life or this one, a film set was always a place of noise and overflowing passion. Of course, the moment filming began, that earlier clamor vanished as if it had never existed, and the surroundings fell still in an instant.
…From then on, the only sounds that remained were the actors' voices, charged with a special kind of power. Completely immersed in their roles, the performers held the breath of everyone on set as they shaped a single cut of the drama into being. And then, with the director's call of completion, the air and atmosphere of the set brightened once more.
That was probably the ideal mood of a film set.
Which was why—
"Cut. Please put a little more care into the expression and the body language. Again."
—the atmosphere on the set of Welcome to Cafe Violet that I had been watching for a short while could only be described as the absolute worst.
The staff's faces were stiff and cold, and every time an NG was called, a sigh heavy with frustration would drift out from some corner of the set. On the actors' side, the situation was, if anything, even more serious.
Namgung Hwan, who played the male lead Haon, looked exhausted by any measure. Honestly, the fact that he was still holding onto that level of performance even after diving straight back into a take after an NG was almost impressive.
And across from him, still pushing through her performance, was Seol Soyoung…
"Ah… I'm sorry."
She barely got a few lines out before she made a mistake again. By now she seemed almost used to it; she stepped back into the take with a nearly expressionless face.
Personally, I couldn't see anything in Seol Soyoung right now. What she was doing, how she was supposed to move, what feeling she was supposed to pour into her lines—even who she was supposed to be playing…
It was rare for an actor, someone who had to master complete control over their emotions, to be this shaken. And given that, by the staff's own account, she had been delivering a perfect performance up until now, the situation made even less sense.
"Eunwoo."
I had been watching Seol Soyoung's performance from a quiet corner of the set, careful not to draw anyone's notice—yet somehow PD Na had spotted me and slipped over.
"When did you get here?"
"Around the fourth NG, I think."
"…So roughly thirty minutes ago."
"Yes. Though when I first arrived, I was surprised by how beautiful this place is."
"Haha. That beauty has been giving us a bit of trouble, actually."
Around the actors, colorful flowers bloomed in full, set against a sweeping natural landscape. This was Sky Park, somewhere near Gangwon-do—a location they had rented out entirely to shoot the climax of episode fifteen. Because it was so remote, few people ever visited, which meant the rental fee was cheap, or so I'd heard.
…Well. Even that was starting to strain the budget, now that the shoot had run far longer than planned.
In any case.
Na Yeongjin came to stand naturally beside me, looking at Seol Soyoung with a face full of worry.
"What do you think?"
"The NGs that keep happening because of her would have made her tense, and the heavy atmosphere on set would have turned into pressure. But the root cause… I honestly can't begin to guess."
The root cause. Even if tension and pressure were interfering with her performance now, that had nothing to do with why she had flubbed the first take in the first place.
"But Eunwoo—right now, the urgent matter is a contingency plan. There isn't much time left if we want to finish by the scheduled deadline. Even if we somehow push the date back, in her current state it won't mean anything."
Na Yeongjin's words were perfectly reasonable. Whatever the reason, the most pressing thing was to somehow resolve the situation in front of us as quickly as possible.
"Are you still of the same mind about revising the script?"
"Then let me ask you one thing. In your opinion, PD Na—is there a better climax than this one?"
"…You're playing hardball."
The scene they were shooting now was near the very end of episode fifteen.
It had begun with the fateful meeting in episode one. Through Haon's determined visits, Gyeoul and Haon came to spend every single day together. Some days Haon used his work as a photographer to post pictures of the café on social media and promote it; other days the two of them toured popular cafés, researching unusual new menu items. On still other days, they thoroughly put a difficult customer in their place. And Haon, who had always felt an inexplicable pull toward the ever-expressionless Gyeoul, finally confessed his feelings to her.
All of it had happened over the span of only a few months—and yet to Gyeoul, those few months felt more precious than the hundreds of years of reincarnation she had endured. That attachment became a will to live, and instead of saying goodbye to the world, she began searching for a way to survive alongside Haon.
Gyeoul and Haon hurried back to the mysterious shaman who had once told her how to break the cycle of reincarnation. But the shaman only said this to the two of them:
"Child, the way for you to live is very simple. Just stay by your fated one's side after you turn twenty-three. If you do only that, your curse will naturally pass to him. Most likely…"
Hearing the shaman's words, Gyeoul despaired. To live, she would have to make Haon bear the curse of reincarnation. She understood all too well how crushing a fate that was, and so she declared firmly that the curse of reincarnation would end completely with her.
But then—
Haon:(tightly clasping Gyeoul's hand) I'll share your burden with you.
So let's keep spending happy days together from now on.
And when the years pass and the gods take your soul—
when the next life comes—
even if you've forgotten everything and no longer remember me—
just as you have always done until now…
this time, I'll be the one who waits for you.
Faced with Haon's unshakable resolve, Gyeoul had no choice but to yield. From then on, it seemed they would spend nothing but carefree, happy days—until one day, without warning, Gyeoul simply vanished. As if she had never existed at all.
Seized by a terrible premonition, Haon searched frantically through every place Gyeoul might have gone, and with the shaman's help he recovered his memories of past lives, finally reaching the promised place where Gyeoul was waiting.
But in the end, Haon did not make it in time.
That was roughly the situation just before the climax.
We had worked so hard building up to this climax—and now they wanted to suddenly revise it? Even as a contingency plan, it would inevitably throw off the flow of the story and significantly lower the quality of the work. And whether Seol Soyoung, in her current state, could even properly perform a revised script was an open question.
The production company, including PD Na, couldn't possibly be unaware of that. So what did it mean that talk of revising the script kept coming up?
She's done everything perfectly so far, so one slip is understandable. The scene they're shooting now does seem difficult to perform. If we switch to an easier script, she'll definitely pull it off. And so on.
They were probably still holding out hope for her, in roughly that spirit.
…I don't know about that.
My thoughts were a little different. Proposing a script revision was, in effect, an unspoken admission that they no longer trusted her performance. Of course I understood that continuous NGs caused by an actor's insufficient performance were enough to erode a production company's confidence.
But even so—Seol Soyoung was still acting.
The NGs kept piling up because of her. The gazes of the people on set, once full of trust, were hard to find now. And yet, for some reason, she kept performing.
What did that mean?
Even thinking about it simply—she had no intention of giving up. She still hadn't broken. When NGs keep coming, the one who suffers most is obviously the actor herself. Especially for Seol Soyoung, this being her first time acting.
And yet she hadn't once complained, and even now she refused to quit and kept trying. If anything, I thought that deserved praise.
…So instead of going over to a girl working that hard and offering her some encouragement, they were going to unilaterally announce that the script was being revised?
She would never accept that—and before she even got the chance, I would never allow it.
"PD Na. Please give me just a little time."
"What are you planning to do?"
"I'd like to talk with her a bit."
"…Talk?"
A look of doubt crossed Na Yeongjin's face for a moment. Then the doubt quickly turned to worry.
"Ah, well…"
I did casually claim to have social anxiety—surely he isn't actually planning to meet her in person…?
With no progress on the shoot, the set decided to take a thirty-minute break.
"…Hah."
In the break room set up near the filming location, Seol Soyoung let out a deep sigh. It wasn't a particularly large space, but right now she had it entirely to herself—the staff's own way of looking out for her, telling her to rest without worrying about anyone else.
Yes. Consideration.
In truth, Seol Soyoung had vaguely sensed it herself. The people on set no longer expected her to pull off the climax scene. It was the natural result. If she were in their place, she wouldn't look kindly on an actor who kept ruining the shoot either.
Which was why—
"What am I even doing right now…"
—Seol Soyoung couldn't help but feel deeply disappointed in herself.
The moment filming started, her breathing sped up, and the lines she had worked so hard to memorize vanished from her mind somewhere along the way. She couldn't control the trembling in her body or her voice, and by now the air on set felt unbearably heavy and cold.
She had done so well at the beginning—so why…
With no way of knowing the reason, she felt so stifled in her chest she thought she might go mad. If she had at least come down with some kind of illness, she might have felt more at ease. Illness came with a doctor who kindly explained how to get better. But NGs like these were purely the result of an actor's lack of skill. In other words, the actor had to overcome it alone, without anyone's help.
…Except.
Seol Soyoung reflexively stared hard at her phone. Then she read the message again—the one from the person who never texted first.
She kept disrupting the shoot. When she went home with a dark expression, her family worried about her. And now even the people on set no longer believed she could do it.
…Honestly, to say her heart wasn't weakening in a situation like this would be a lie.
And yet—
The person who had given her this chance trusted her absolutely.
This is enough.
Looking at the message, Seol Soyoung steadied her heart once more. That boundless trust he sent her without asking for anything in return was, right now, her only compass—her only lifeline.
But if even that were to snap…
Slap!
Seol Soyoung suddenly struck both her cheeks hard with her hands. The force was a little stronger than she'd intended; even through her light makeup, a flush of red was visible on her skin.
No more idle thoughts. There's really not much time left now.
She had slapped her own cheeks to snap herself out of it, but she couldn't feel the pain. That was how tightly she was backed into a corner—she didn't even have room to register it.
…Going back into the shoot in this state would produce a result that was all too predictable.
"Hoo…"
Seol Soyoung drew in a deep breath and let it out, trying to ease her tension even a little, then started toward the door of the break room.
That was when it happened.
Bzzzt— bzzzt— bzzzt—
The familiar phone lying on the break room desk. Hearing it vibrate continuously as if a call were coming in, her steps stopped of their own accord.
…Who was it?
The people who usually called her phone were fixed. Mostly family, and Minseok, the driver, more or less. Curiosity stirred, and she hurried to check her phone.
And then—
Writer 927
Realizing who was calling, her eyes went wide.