A Young Beast That Couldn't Understand Death
There was a stillness in No Jeong-yeon's acting that seemed to command the space around it. The final moments of the purified nun carried a force that turned solemn everyone who watched her.
Once the drama actually aired, No Jeong-yeon's screen time wouldn't even reach ten minutes.
And yet there was no doubt that for the viewers watching episode one of , she would deliver a message loud and clear.
You chose this drama well.
No Jeong-yeon's gaze was not fixed on the camera lens. Not because she wasn't supposed to meet the viewers' eyes through the screen.
It was because Jeong-an worried for Seoryeong even in death. Even as pain bent her head back, even as her body curled under the agony of her guts twisting—
she strained to lift her head, the way one strains to catch a last glimpse of someone they love.
Thud—.
Her body crumpled in slow motion, and when Jeong-an at last lay on the ground and stopped breathing—
"…"
Director Jjang could not bring himself to call cut.
No Jeong-yeon rinsed out her mouth with water, then broke into a playful grin. Nothing about her resembled the woman who had just met so wretched a death as Jeong-an.
The fake blood still smudged at the corner of her mouth was the only evidence that she had, in fact, been Jeong-an.
"Well, little chick? Did you watch closely?"
"Yes, Professor. That was the greatest performance I've ever seen."
"Then deliver it just like that to Bit-gang! She's so bitter she won't sleep a wink tonight."
No Jeong-yeon laughed, sweeping a hand over her rough-cropped hair. She had shaved her head for a role that amounted to barely a handful of minutes.
"It's all well and good that she's making her comeback, but does she have to snatch up every ounce of attention that should be mine? Aigoo, the nerve. And why did I have to be born with such a fresh, innocent face that I can't even play Yeomga? I'm so disappointed in my casting."
She grumbled in jest, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
'That's not the only thing I'm disappointed about, though.'
Old age does away with the ability to sleep before dawn. That was true not only of Geum Bit-gang, but of No Jeong-yeon as well.
In the early hours of that morning, there had been one extra spectator at the stage Han Yeo-reum built for Geum Bit-gang alone.
'The scenes I share with my little chick—a single send-off, and playing a corpse, and that's the whole of it…'
Geum Bit-gang had seen only Yeo-reum's retreating back as she limped away, but No Jeong-yeon, beyond the window, had been able to see her face in profile.
The grief of parents forced to pass poverty down to their children. The shame of working her hands raw only to remain treading water forever. The resentment toward a child who understood nothing of such a life.
All of it tangled together and filled that small face to overflowing.
That was why No Jeong-yeon had called Yeo-reum early.
'I'm a great actress too, same as Bit-gang, you know!'
She had wanted to show her little chick what kind of actress No Jeong-yeon was. Sure enough, the look in the girl's eyes as she watched her had changed unmistakably.
Concealing her quiet pride, No Jeong-yeon moved with practiced composure.
Now it was her turn to watch Yeo-reum. The scene before Seoryeong discovered Jeong-an's body—Seoryeong, just returned home.
"Jeong-an! Look what I brought!"
Seoryeung came bounding in, breathless with excitement, flung open the old wooden door, and busily unwrapped her bundle the moment she was through it.
Then she held the flower-patterned shoes up high.
"Look at these! Throw those raggedy things away already and wear these from now on. Aren't they pretty? Pretty enough to make you forget all that nonsense about owning nothing?"
Beaming with satisfaction, Seoryeong turned her head, shoes still in hand. Disappointment flooded her face as she searched for Jeong-an.
"Jeong-an? Where are you?"
The camera followed Seoryeong slowly, racking focus to a corner of the room.
A single sheet of white paper resting on a tiny folding-leg table.
Jeong-an's last letter.
"Jeong-an—!"
Not yet seeing the letter, Seoryeong called the nun's name again and again, urgent, coaxing her out.
The house was so small there was nowhere to hide. Clutching the shoes, Seoryeong stepped outside once more. She paced by the door, then slowly walked around to the back of the house.
"Jeong-an~. I'm here, I told you~."
Now was the moment Seoryeong would find Jeong-an's body.
Jeong-an's body had not yet been laid out inside the set. With nothing at all before her, Yeo-reum would have to paint the expression of one witnessing death onto empty air.
'All right, then. Let's see just how good you are—'
No Jeong-yeon's lips curved upward as she watched Yeo-reum through the monitor.
'And if she can't manage it, I can always go lie down there myself.'
Whether an actor has a partner to draw emotion from makes an enormous difference. Even veteran actors, struggling to find their feelings, would ask a fellow performer to stand with them even if the shot wouldn't catch them.
Knowing this full well, No Jeong-yeon deliberately stayed at the director's side and simply observed.
And what settled over Seoryeong's face as she beheld Jeong-an's body was—
"Jeong-an…?"
Bewilderment.
Like a young beast that could not comprehend death, Seoryeong stared at Jeong-an in silence.
As if this could not possibly be real. As if she simply could not understand it.
'What is this?'
No Jeong-yeon was taken aback. The bewilderment filling Yeo-reum's face on the screen made Jeong-an's death feel all the larger, all the more absolute.
The scene carried on, and this time the frame held both of them together.
Still carrying that small question inside her, No Jeong-yeon lay down again in the very spot where Jeong-an had met her death.
The cold, dry earth pressed against her skin. She played the corpse with its eyes still open.
At the call of cut, Seoryeong slowly crouched down toward Jeong-an. Then she raised the hand opposite the one clutching the shoes and gave Jeong-an a gentle shake.
"Jeong-an."
The hand, feigning composure, seemed to speak. Don't do this.
"Jeong-an."
Don't leave me behind. Don't die.
"I brought you the shoes, I told you…"
Jeong-an had vomited blood and couldn't even close her eyes—it was grisly enough to turn anyone's stomach, yet Seoryeong brought her face close to hers.
The movements of a young beast that, to the very end, could not accept the death before it.
"They're really nice ones. They cost a lot, you know."
Seoryeong slowly lowered herself and simply sat down beside Jeong-an. It looked as though she believed that if she only waited, Jeong-an would get up again.
No Jeong-yeon bit her tongue to keep the tears from falling from her open eyes.
How could anyone close their eyes and leave that child behind? Now I understand why they say the eyes are the last to surrender.
She could not close her eyes.
The little chick before her had compelled a veteran of veterans to keep them open.
No Jeong-yeon fought with everything she had not to betray the emotions churning inside her.
With fifteen episodes left to film, there was no telling how far Han Yeo-reum would grow. And the fact that she would not be there, close by, to watch it happen—she resented it bitterly.
Something caught fire in No Jeong-yeon's heart.
This was jealousy, plain and simple.
She was now certain of it: Geum Bit-gang had chosen her comeback project so well it was almost infuriating.
Today was the first scene pairing Han Yeo-reum and Kwon Jun-hyeok. The shoot at the old shack had to be wrapped quickly, which was why Yeo-reum's schedule sat at the very front of the day.
"Jun-hyuk! We're here!"
"Yeah…"
"What's wrong?"
"I'm not crying…"
"…What? Why aren't you crying?"
The manager, hands still on the wheel, whipped around toward the back seat. He was so startled his upper body was practically out over the seatback.
"Why aren't you crying?"
That's right.
Today, for once, Kwon Jun-hyeok genuinely had not cried.
"It's your first shoot. You're not scared? Not trembling? Not nervous at all?"
"Hyung… I'm not the type who cries all the time."
"What are you talking about! Yes you are!"
"I was saving them up so I could let them all out in one go."
Kwon Jun-hyeok declared this to his manager with his chest out, proud as could be.
The clock wound back a few days.
Han Yeo-reum, who had come to the Action Academy to learn running, greeted Gwak Cheol-sik warmly.
"Hello there! Senior, it's been a while~."
"Hey. Our Foal's here!"
"My senior has a bit of a pronunciation problem. I believe the word is puppy, yes?"
"Back then I drank the liquor you kept pouring me and nearly died, Foal."
The two were clearly already thick as thieves from filming together.
"Master Kang—! I've heard a lot about you. Are you really going full Spartan on me today?"
"Of course. Don't cut me any slack—hit me with everything."
And Yeo-reum became fast friends with Kang Han-seong, the martial arts director of , in no time at all. Watching her through the gap in the door of the second-floor training hall, Kwon Jun-hyeok marveled.
'She's good…'
Getting along with people, melting into a situation, using her body—she was good at all of it.
"Keep that elbow angle alive! No wobbling!"
The moment the martial arts director said something, Yeo-reum understood it at once. She truly knew how to make her body weightless.
'Even a single advancing step…'
She walked with her weight balanced on the tips of her toes; when she ran, she widened her stride and leapt high.
The Seoryeong Han Yeo-reum was building genuinely resembled a cat. And despite the strain on her breathing, she even delivered her lines between movements.
Yet Geum Bit-gang and No Jeong-yeon had given even this Yeo-reum a ninety.
'Not a hundred…'
Meanwhile, he—Kwon Jun-hyeok, who was nowhere near finding his Myeong-do, who couldn't even deliver a proper performance—wouldn't manage a ninety. He'd be lucky to scrape together a nine.
"What am I supposed to do…"
Kwon Jun-hyeok eased the door shut and slid down against the wall. His eyes were damp again.
He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, a practiced motion—but that hand was a mess, split open and scraped raw. Tears seeped into the wounds and stung, sting after sting.
Kwon Jun-hyeok's vision blurred with tears.
"What are you doing here?"
A clear voice cut through.
Startle him too badly and he'd lose the power of speech altogether. Kwon Jun-hyeok looked up at Han Yeo-reum, who had somehow settled down beside him, and found himself at a loss for words.
"Um… that… no, I mean… how did you know I was here?"
"How would I not? You've been staring at me this whole time. I'm the kind of person who doesn't miss a single gaze—even the one pair of eyes that recognizes me. A fully prepared actress, that's me."
Yeo-reum wiped the sweat beading on her forehead and flashed a wide grin.
"I'll just have some water."
She picked up Kwon Jun-hyeok's tumbler and gulped the water down. Apparently today's training was all but finished.
"By the way, Kwon Jun-hyeok, you cry really well."
"I'm sorry…"
"There's nothing to be sorry for. That's a talent too. Crying on cue. Five stars out of five."
It was the first time anyone had called his weeping a talent. Yeo-reum sat down beside him and spoke with utter seriousness.
"There are tons of actors who can't cry on set—so they bring eye drops and every trick in the book and bawl like crocodiles."
"Really…?"
"Yep. Really. But you cry well, Jun-hyeok. So your tear-filled scenes will turn out beautifully. The rest, we just build together!"
Together, she had said.
"Who am I?"
"…Han Yeo-reum…"
"Not that. Add the proper modifiers."
"Rookie actress?"
"That's right. Winner of the Jury Special Newcomer Award at the Seoul International Drama Awards, and her web drama achieved a whopping 247 percent in Blu-ray sales, and no fewer than one—count it, one—fan attended the awards ceremony on her behalf and… ah, look at that, barely debuted and my résumé's already this long. Anyway, skipping the rest. And you?"
"I'm an idol, though… But I've won a lot of awards too, and I write my own songs… I'm a pretty solid, skilled idol…"
Yeo-reum looked at him with an expression that said she was absolutely not joking.
"Nope. As of now, you're a rookie actor too."
The director's voice rang up from the first floor, calling for Yeo-reum. Break time was apparently over.
"Let's do this, then. Fellow rookies."
Yeo-reum rose to her feet and held out her fist toward Kwon Jun-hyeok. Before he knew it, he had bumped his own fist against her small one.
"See you on set!"
She vanished on light feet. Kwon Jun-hyeok clenched his battered fist.
Fellow rookies.
Strange as it seemed, the words gave him courage. Kwon Jun-hyeok gripped his wooden sword again.
And so the first scene in which the two leads filmed together was a meal at a roadside inn.
Because they weren't yet close, the wariness between them came across as entirely natural.
"…"
"…"
Long after finishing her own bowl of gukbap, Seoryeong sat staring pointedly at Myeong-do's rice bowl. Feeling her gaze, Myeong-do kept eating and pretended not to notice.
Scowling, Seoryeong raised her hand and summoned the proprietress.
"Hey~. Landlady!"
"Yes? Anything else you'd like to order?"
Seoryeong's hand shot out and deftly dipped into the breast of Myeong-do's robe, mid-meal. Then, without a by-your-leave, she pulled out his money and paid the landlady the price of another gukbap and then some.
"Shall I bring another bowl? Or perhaps some liquor?"
"What do you think you're—"
Seoryeong's eyes gleamed as she spoke again.
"From the look of it, this inn of yours hasn't long to live. My heart aches for you, thinking how soon you'll have to close your doors."
It was naked, unbridled provocation.