Why Call Him Uncle?
“Me? Why?”
“You’re really going to call me Uncle?”
“We can’t keep dodging it forever. Explaining it is a hassle, too. Or you can explain it yourself.”
“It feels a little awkward…”
Since we were in the middle of filming, we kept our voices to the smallest whispers. It was best to stay quiet on set, but every word spoken during the shoot was captured by the lavalier mic clipped near the collar. Anything said too far away or too softly wouldn’t register at all.
“Fine, I got it. U-uncle… no, wait—U-uncle… Un…cle…”
“That’s dragging on a bit, isn’t it?”
“…Later. I need time to get used to it.”
It seemed calling Lee Seongbeom “Uncle” would have to wait a little longer. No matter how hard I tried, the word simply wouldn’t come out when I looked at him.
“By the way, what kind of program is this? I heard from Bom that it’s called There’s No Country for Geniuses.”
“Bom?”
“Ah, it’s nothing.”
No need to bring up what happened in the waiting room.
“Is that so? To put the concept simply, it’s about finding hidden geniuses and giving them various kinds of support… or something like that. Though lately the original intent has faded and it’s mostly become a promotional show for rising newcomers.”
“Hmm… Really? Then Bom must be pretty famous, right?”
“Bom? You mean Choi Bom? She’s famous, all right. You didn’t know? She’s been incredibly popular in her current drama.”
“I don’t watch TV. D-did you know about her, Uncle?”
“I knew of her. But her acting isn’t really to my taste. For a kid, she’s quite skilled, though. Talent, plain and simple.”
Lee Seongbeom spoke with a look of complete disinterest. In other words, Choi Bom hadn’t met his standards. Too bad for her—she’d seemed so eager to appear on his show.
“Still, among child actors, she probably commands the highest fee. And since this is her first variety appearance, casting her must’ve been tough. You did well to pull it off.”
That was only because Choi Bom had mistaken this for Lee Seongbeom’s program… I decided to stay quiet. I’d seen her glance our way the moment we entered the room, so she’d probably handle it herself.
“So, what exactly am I supposed to learn here? You said you brought me to teach me assistant directing.”
“Oh, right. That was the plan.”
He reacted as if he’d completely forgotten. I shouldn’t have told him he could ask me for anything in exchange for the microphone. The excuse was far too obvious.
When I shot him a glare, Lee Seongbeom finally started explaining the set. The PD’s role on location. Camera adjustments. The importance of lighting and reflectors. He went on and on, but most of it was basic knowledge I already understood without needing the lecture.
“Honestly, there isn’t much to worry about during an interview shoot like this. A straight-on camera shot is fine, and since we’re indoors, there’s no need for a boom mic. At most, you might pay a little attention to the lighting.”
An interview scene focused entirely on the guest, so all attention stayed on them. That was why guests made sure to look their best—fresh makeup, deliberate presentation. But no matter how perfect the makeup, bad lighting could distort facial proportions, ruin color balance, and turn a bright, lively image cold and flat.
‘Choi Bom’s skin was already fair, but under these lights it looks almost milky.’
While I was coming to terms with how crucial lighting really was, Lee Seongbeom asked,
“So, how would you direct this scene?”
“Hmm… Well, I don’t know the show’s style yet, but for an interview, the priority is making the Q&A easy to follow. I’d use clean, readable subtitles. Maybe adjust the subtitle animations to match the guest’s image or the tone of their answers. If I wanted something lighter and more playful, I could cut right after an excited response, black out, then immediately cut to the guest looking calm and composed again.”
“Exactly. That way viewers would think, ‘Oh, so the guest was acting rowdy and now they’re pretending to be proper again,’ keeping the mood light.”
“Or flip it completely—show the usually composed guest getting oddly worked up over a filtered question. That could be fun too.”
“And in a situation like this, you could also—”
Together we mentally edited the footage, discussing how to make it even more engaging. It was only a single interview clip, yet there were countless ways to direct it. Most of what we discussed was knowledge I already possessed, but every so often Lee Seongbeom’s experience filled in gaps I hadn’t considered. His skill was impressive.
Our directing talk continued until the shoot ended. We’d covered nearly every technique and editing trick usable in an interview scene. Just as we finished, the lights clicked off—Choi Bom’s interview was over.
I was about to push myself off the wall, thinking it was time to leave, when Lee Seongbeom suddenly spoke.
“Well, that should be enough, right?”
“Huh?”
Confused, I tilted my head, but his gaze wasn’t on me—it was directed past me. I turned to follow it and saw the PD scribbling furiously in his notebook.
“I can’t help you directly, but I’ve shown you the direction. Use it as reference when you edit.”
“…Thank you, sunbae.”
“If you’re grateful, buy me a drink sometime.”
The notebook was filled with the directing techniques and editing ideas we’d just discussed. From what I could glimpse, he’d already filled two full pages in the small notebook. So this was what “helping with directing” looked like. I was still mulling it over when the PD spoke up hesitantly.
“Of course. But, sunbae…”
“Yeah?”
“Would it be all right if your niece appeared on my program?”
Suddenly, the spotlight was on me.
“No.”
“She fits our concept perfectly. From what I’ve heard, she’s a genius… Why not?”
“I’ve already claimed this kid. Don’t try to steal her. If you really want her, ask her yourself. I won’t stop you.”
The PD’s face fell, then lit up again. He immediately bowed with a bright smile and turned to me.
“Would you perhaps be interested in appearing on TV—”
“No.”
“You could become incredibly famous—”
“I don’t want to.”
“……I see. I’m sorry.”
Appear on TV, show my face, become a celebrity? For someone with a shut-in streak like mine, that was no different from torture. I would never go on broadcast.
“I’ve been rejected pretty harshly myself, so don’t take it too hard.”
“No, I can’t find a single trace of your genes in her looks no matter how hard I look. How did she inherit that talent instead?”
“Want to die?”
“Agh, damn it! This world is so unfair! I want to find talent like that too and just coast through my shows!”
“This punk’s lost it.”
The two PDs bickered back and forth—though it wasn’t a split personality, just the junior PD and Lee Seongbeom. Despite his rough way of speaking, Lee Seongbeom was good at looking after people. That was probably why his junior could speak so casually with him.
While the two men continued their playful argument, Choi Bom, who had finished her shoot, approached me.
“Ah, sunbae. Good work on the filming.”
“Wait—come with me for a second!”
With an oddly urgent expression, Choi Bom grabbed my hand and dashed toward the waiting room. I couldn’t even resist; I was simply dragged along by her frantic pace.
With a loud bang, the door slammed shut. Once the outside noise was cut off, Choi Bom wore an expression I’d never seen before and seized my shoulders.
“…Sunbae?”
“A-actually, I heard you call Lee Seongbeom PD ‘Uncle’ earlier…”
“Oh.”
I’d spoken so quietly that it shouldn’t have reached the cameras—had she still heard it?
“You… are you really… Lee Seongbeom PD’s niece?”
“Uh… um… y-yeah.”
We’d agreed to tell people we were uncle and niece, but it still felt incredibly awkward. Like goosebumps were crawling up my arms. I swallowed the denial that had almost slipped out and gave a stiff nod instead.
Choi Bom’s face froze even as she smiled.
“…What’s your name?”
“Seo Sua.”
“Right, Sua… The things I said earlier—they’re a secret, okay?”
“Which things?”
“All those complaints I told you… You understand, right?”
“What did you say again? Oh, right—how you came because you thought it was this PD’s program but got annoyed when it wasn’t Lee Seongbeom, how you wanted to appear on his show, how he’s a genius of the century, how he’s surprisingly handsome, how he matches your taste… Something like that?”
“Th-that’s… You have a good memory, huh…?”
“I’m pretty smart.”
“Then you understand what I’m asking, right…?”
Choi Bom spoke in a trembling, coaxing tone, like she was soothing a child. What she really wanted to say was obvious: If you blab, you’re dead.
Actors lived and died by their image—not just with viewers and fans, but with PDs and other industry people too. They had to maintain that image if they wanted more work. If her grumbling reached Lee Seongbeom’s ears, it would seriously damage her reputation.
But that was—
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Not my problem.
“I’m too young to understand what you’re saying, sunbae.”
To be honest, I’d been a little annoyed earlier when she brought up internet broadcasting. This was just a tiny bit of payback.
“Please don’t get mad, sunbae. It’s scary!”
“Aaaagh! I’m sorry! I don’t even know what for, but I’m sorry! So please!”
Me? Why?