I Want to Stay for Just One More Minute (8)
The boy named Lee Shin-woo was crouched on the side of the road, sobbing. His mother’s chronic illness had worsened. The family’s circumstances were far too heavy for an ordinary student to bear.
For a young boy to shoulder alone, this world was unbearably cold.
Curled up like a hedgehog, he hid inside the tiny space he had created for himself, refusing to face the world, and wept in silence. He still had to get home.
His body trembled. His voice shook. He couldn’t endure it any longer. Dropping out was the right choice.
What was the point of boxing when his family was falling apart? He should get a part-time job first… first…
“Hic…”
It was too hard to think. Reality kept pressing him to come up with a plan, yet all Lee Shin-woo could do was finally release the tears he had been holding back.
“…Cut.”
Once the scene ended, silence fell over the set. Or, to be precise, it was the sound of people desperately trying to swallow their sobs.
The cinematographer holding the camera had red-rimmed eyes. She was already approaching forty. Having spent many years behind the lens, she hadn’t started in this industry from the beginning. Though she was now a veteran of over fifteen years, she had begun working at the age of seventeen—the same age as Lee Shin-woo.
She didn’t share his exact background, but she had endured similar pain. The power of Woo Dan-wol’s acting surpassed imagination. Where had the polite actor who smiled gently and exchanged greetings gone? In his place stood a boy crying his heart out.
In the end, tears began to fall from those reddened eyes. Like a needle piercing a water balloon. Once one person broke down, countless others on set followed without hesitation, weeping one after another.
Director Seong A-reum didn’t shed tears, but she was still sniffling. The next scheduled shoot had come to an abrupt halt.
It was an unexpected obstacle. Not a late arrival, not a mistake—just an actor performing a sad scene so heartbreakingly that it shattered everyone around him.
“Are… you okay?”
“Hic… ugh…”
The sense of responsibility weighing him down, yet his refusal to give up. The choice to accept harsh reality, to set aside his dreams, and to pick up the burden instead. Lee Shin-woo’s decision struck a deep chord in the women watching.
After all, women were creatures who grew through responsibility.
In the end, the set was forced to take a ten-minute break. Woo Dan-wol wiped his own tears as well. Since he had genuinely cried, leaving them unchecked would leave his eyes horribly swollen.
Normally they would have moved straight into the next scene. He had already shed real tears and was prepared to shed more. But how could he complain when the delay was because of him?
Anyway, once preparations resumed, they immediately began filming the next scene.
At the director’s signal, Woo Dan-wol steadied his breathing once more. To distribute his energy properly for the remaining shots, he needed delicate control. After all, even this relied on stamina.
He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the role. And then, he became Lee Shin-woo.
“Hic… sob…”
Once again crouched down, he let the tears flow. He wasn’t the type to cry at the press of a button, but because Woo Dan-wol had become Lee Shin-woo, it was possible.
Then, a familiar voice reached his ears. It was Ha Min-ah.
“Lee Shin-woo?”
“……”
The occasional trembling of Lee Shin-woo’s shoulders suddenly stopped. As if frozen solid. It was the single phrase that woke Woo Dan-wol, who had been so deep in character that he wouldn’t have noticed even if someone walked by or stared at him. A friend he knew.
And not just any friend—if the girl he was secretly conscious of saw him in this state, it was an entirely different matter. He slowly rose to his feet. And then—
“Lee Shin-woo?”
“Y-you’ve got the wrong person…”
He turned his face away from her. Or, as they say, he showed her his back. His pronunciation was slurred. It was the natural result of still crying.
It might have been rude to a crying person, but Lee Shin-woo’s tearful, muffled voice was surprisingly cute. The kind of voice that made you want to tease him and make him cry even more.
In that instant, Ju Ha-ryeong’s heart, as she played Ha Min-ah, fluttered. She hadn’t noticed when watching coldly from afar, but seeing Lee Shin-woo desperately trying to hide his disgrace while shedding tears stirred an almost imperceptible desire inside her.
Ha Min-ah stepped closer. She touched his shoulder. Her lips parted.
“What’s wrong, Lee Shin-woo.”
“Hic, ugh… I-I’m not Shin-woo…”
His pronunciation was still muddled, but the way his shoulders kept shaking made it obvious it was him. Ha Min-ah’s face gradually filled with confusion.
She wasn’t exactly cold-blooded, but the Lee Shin-woo she knew wasn’t the type to cry like this. He was prickly, blunt, and sharp-tongued—a sly fox who always wrapped his words in barbs.
To suddenly see him crying like this was more surprising than embarrassing.
“It is you. Lee Shin-woo. First, um…”
“D-don’t look…”
Ha Min-ah grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. His face slowly came into view.
“…Let’s go for now.”
She flinched. The moment Ha Min-ah saw his face, she recoiled. It was her first time seeing a man cry, after all. Setting aside her confusion, she needed to sort through the complicated feelings swirling inside her.
What was this emotion? There was worry, certainly. But why did her heart race just from seeing him cry?
Even Ju Ha-ryeong, who was playing Ha Min-ah, felt the same question rise within her. However, this was a filming set. She was a professional.
So she followed the script exactly. Perhaps because those complex emotions showed so clearly on her face, Director Seong A-reum, who was watching the two-shot, wore a satisfied smile. It was an incredibly pleasing scene.
Then, the atmosphere began to shift rapidly. Woo Dan-wol’s acting quality shot up at an astonishing pace.
In a way, it was half-forced. Even if they weren’t particularly close, they were still people who belonged to the same circle.
Lee Shin-woo’s eyes, glistening with unshed tears, trembled as they glared at her. Countless emotions raged within that gaze.
Shame at being caught by a friend. Rage toward himself and his circumstances. And denial of the confusion swirling in his heart.
Very few actors could control such delicate facial expressions while simultaneously managing the subtle movements of their lips. No—even if the expression itself was possible, almost no one could adjust it so perfectly to fit the character of Lee Shin-woo.
People like that were what we called top stars. In other words, Woo Dan-wol’s acting skill had grown to the point where it could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with veteran performers.
There was just one concern. Director Seong A-reum swallowed quietly. Could Ju Ha-ryeong handle this? She never imagined she would worry about an actress whose filmography wasn’t short.
In that tense moment, Seong A-reum recalled Ju Ha-ryeong’s past roles and performances.
“Don’t pity me.”
“……”
Lee Shin-woo, who had only ever received wounds without help, lashed out at the woman who approached him. He roughly shoved Ha Min-ah’s chest. Of course, the difference in strength meant she wasn’t pushed back hard, but the emotion behind the gesture was conveyed perfectly.
Of course, a small mishap occurred during the process. Perhaps due to the influence of his previous life, Woo Dan-wol should have pushed near Ha Min-ah’s collarbone. But because of their height difference?
He had pushed awkwardly between her collarbone and chest. Woo Dan-wol panicked. As a Confucian boy born in South Korea, he believed he had committed a grave offense against her.
Of course, it wasn’t an outright grope. Technically, only the lower part of his palm had felt the soft texture.
Even though he was immersed in the role, at that moment Woo Dan-wol couldn’t help but be flustered. Still, he couldn’t ruin a good take. He whipped his head away and walked off exactly as the script dictated. Thank goodness the camera wasn’t on his face.
For a second, he had almost let his flustered expression be caught on camera. In the end, the slightly faster tempo actually created an even better shot, but it was a mishap only Woo Dan-wol knew about.
The irony was that Ju Ha-ryeong herself didn’t seem bothered at all. But what could he do? He was the one who had been possessed into this gender-reversed world.
“…Cut.”
The scene ended with Ha Min-ah walking away even more forcefully, as if telling him not to follow.
Applause erupted from the staff. It was praise for the magnificent acting the two actors had delivered.
“Haa…”
Ju Ha-ryeong let out a deep breath. Woo Dan-wol was still standing with his back to her. She walked over to him. Normally, it was proper etiquette not to disturb an actor right after a method acting performance.
But because she already knew his acting style, Ju Ha-ryeong called out to him without much thought.
“Dan-wol?”
“Ah, uh… S-Senior…”
“…?”
What’s with him?Woo Dan-wol had frozen solid. He looked like a robot stuck buffering.
Ju Ha-ryeong tilted her head, then asked, genuinely confused.
“Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”
“J-just… somewhere private. Please.”
It wasn’t even casual speech. It wasn’t the internet-style speech floating around online either. Seeing his suddenly changed demeanor, Ju Ha-ryeong burst out laughing. She understood what he meant, so she followed him to a different spot. Since filming for the day was over, there was plenty of free time.
The place they entered was Woo Dan-wol’s waiting room. He had asked Seong Ji-hoon for permission to have the space to themselves. That only made Ju Ha-ryeong more curious about what was going on. What on earth was this about?
“S-Senior.”
“Dan-wol, what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry!”
Woo Dan-wol bowed at a perfect ninety degrees. It was, quite literally, an apology.
With his head bowed low, he brought up what had happened during the shoot.
“During the scene just now… I unintentionally touched your chest. I’m truly sorry.”
“Pfft… Oh my god. I’m losing it.”
Laughter burst from Ju Ha-ryeong’s lips. She really felt like she was going crazy. The actor in front of her was just too adorable.
Was he doing this on purpose? Ju Ha-ryeong had seen plenty of male actors who tried to build a connection through sexual appeal. But his ears were burning bright red.
He was genuinely ashamed and apologizing. Wasn’t that unbearably cute? In the drama, he played a sly fox who seduced women with his acting, showed no concern about exposure, and possessed a carefree charm that far surpassed most men.
Yet this same Woo Dan-wol was blushing over something so strangely innocent.
A woman’s breasts were certainly a point of charm. There was even a saying that some women took pride in their chest.
But when it came to casual contact, no one really cared. At most, it was like touching someone’s arm or belly fat. In other words, a touch like that was no issue at all. Frankly, even if he had openly grabbed her chest, Ju Ha-ryeong would have simply laughed it off.
The corners of Ju Ha-ryeong’s mouth curved upward. How should she handle this adorable junior of hers? Her true nature, which even she didn’t fully understand, was being stimulated. She wanted to do something to the trembling herbivore standing before her.
“Dan-wol.”
“Yes, Senior.”
“Lift your head. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“R-really…?”
“Yes. It’s not a problem at all… but in return, will you do me one favor?”
Woo Dan-wol let out a sigh of relief. Then he nodded at the request that followed. She was a famous celebrity. There was no reason for her to ask for anything strange.
And when he heard what her favor was, Woo Dan-wol’s expression turned strange.