Two Geniuses, One Muse
"Yeo-reum! What the—where did you learn to carry a suitcase that naturally?"
"I guess I... traveled a lot?"
Director Hwang and Director So both showered me with praise, saying my performance oozed authenticity.
It's from years of stocking shelves at a convenience store.
Travel, my foot. Half of my lifelike acting was honed by Coupang deliveries, and the other half by the convenience store.
But what did any of that matter? They were happy, so it was a win. I accepted the glass of ice water Director Hwang poured me and took a sip, thinking exactly that.
"That feeling just now was wonderful... Yeon-doo looked genuinely worn down. So real."
Starting from Director So's feedback, the camera kept rolling, capturing the life of Jung Yeon-doo, who had one day wandered into Hyangdo-gun.
"Maybe I should... get some rest..."
Yeo-reum trudged over to the sofa. There was a stiffness to her, the kind particular to people who carried a constant hum of tension in their bodies. Even the way she flopped down—thump—radiated exhaustion. Alone in her own space, she still didn't stretch out or let her shoulders drop.
The bare apartment, furnished but cushionless, looked exactly like Jung Yeon-doo's life. A daily existence of just barely keeping up appearances.
"Cut!"
So Ye-sol's voice, usually so quiet, was growing louder by the take. With every cut she called, her conviction became more and more apparent.
And no wonder.
Director Hwang marveled all over again. Han Yeo-reum's Jung Yeon-doo had been impressive at the meeting and again at the script reading, but who knew how much more work she'd put in since—because now she simply was Jung Yeon-doo. The high-strung, hypersensitive type who refused to let her guard show in front of others, whose brain never stopped spinning.
That's supposed to be a scene where she just collapses onto the couch.
Yeo-reum didn't lie down. She sat, then simply folded forward at the waist, smooth and slow. Her slippered feet stayed planted on the floor as if nailed there—as if even a full, proper collapse was something she wouldn't permit herself.
"Okay! Switching angles, going again!"
Director So called out, and the cameras around Yeo-reum shifted to frame her face for the close-up. While the crew shuffled and grumbled through the brief commotion, another sound cut through—shutter clicks.
Click-click!Click-click!
Director Dokgo Gyeol's younger cousin had been wandering around with a camera all day, snapping shots whenever her hands were free. Since Yeo-reum didn't have an agency, it seemed she was building up a stock of photos to post on social media.
Hardworking little thing. Admirable.
Ice water in hand, Director Hwang wandered over to the tiny cousin of Dokgo Gyeol and peered over her shoulder at the monitor she was scrutinizing with a gravely furrowed brow. The moment he saw it, he had no choice but to speak.
"...Excuse me—these."
"Would it be all right if we used a few of these as our official stills? No—actually, the poster too!"
Inside the frame that had caught that single instant, Jung Yeon-doo was alive and breathing.
The first day of shooting wrapped up smoothly. It was proper mid-June weather—still bright even at seven in the evening. A modest barbecue party kicked off in the courtyard of the set.
"Yeo-reum, no. Don't you dare man the grill. You worked all day."
"She's right! Hand the tongs over to us! Sit down and eat, honey. Eat."
I shook my head at Director So and Director Hwang.
I spent years working at a barbecue joint.
Some things should be left to the people who are good at them. Besides, if I wanted to settle into tomorrow's scenes, it helped to loosen the body up with a little manual labor first.
Tomorrow's the one where I have to run errands for all the village grannies, right?
Think of it as pre-setting both body and mind to Fully Natural Errand-Runner mode.
Flash!
A sudden burst of brightness—it was Dokgo Min, snapping photos of me between takes. The woman knew her stuff, flash and all.
How does she already know flash photography is going to be trendy in a few years?
People with an eye for beauty can do no wrong, apparently. Watching her, Director Hwang let out an admiring sigh.
"Director, is that little sister of yours really just a student? What is that instinct? Wow... a cinematographer should be taking notes."
"Angyengo. Engaieango."
"I'm... sorry, what was that?"
"She says: obviously. She's a genius. At least, I believe that's what she said."
Dokgo Gyeol answered absently, mouth full of meat. Director So, lettuce in hand, wore the expression of someone making a solemn resolution.
"When I saw those stills earlier... I knew for certain. The Yeon-doo I've been envisioning—she's right here.... Something like that."
Put a bunch of geniuses in one place and they started feeding off each other, apparently. Hmm. Nice. As expected of Dokgo Min. Best senior ever.
"I never imagined I'd feel this way on the very first day of shooting. Truly, Yeo-reum, you are my muse—"
Dokgo Min barged right into Director So's wistful reverie.
"What exactly do you think you're saying? She's my muse. From the moment we first met, she was one hundred percent Dokgo Min's muse. Mm-hm. This is muse shoplifting, that's what it is."
Director So didn't so much as blink.
"Well, that's not how it works.... Whoever takes what they're given and produces better results with it is the rightful owner...."
"I've already produced results, thank you? Those profile photos of Yeo-reum that circulate as her portfolio? I took those? Or did you somehow miss my genius at work?"
"Still.... that's social media, and my work is terrestrial broadcasting.... Far more people, across far more demographics, will see it.... Wouldn't that count as the better result?..."
My heart swelled. Two geniuses, fighting over me.
Please don't fight because of me.
Not that I minded feeling like the protagonist of some grand epic called The Parody of Fate. Even before my regression, Dokgo Min had never once called anyone else her muse.
No wonder I was in a good mood.
"Better result according to whose standards, exactly? Mm-hm? Shouldn't you be asking the person in question?"
"She's standing right here... but she'll answer the way you soothe a crying child... not with her real opinion..."
Ooh, that stung. Director So was quietly, methodically flaying Dokgo Min alive. Those broadcast-station years of seasoning were showing their worth.
"For the record, I'm not one of those people who window-shops between muses. I even got an offer—from Do Gyeo-ul! From her side! First! And I! Turned! It! Down!"
Dokgo Min's declaration left me gaping.
"WHAT?! DO GYEO-UL?!"
My shock seemed to land as a kind of moral support, because Dokgo Min looked up at me with a deeply satisfied face.
"That's right. That Do Gyeo-ul."
Then, for some reason, she went slightly bashful as she continued.
"Because, you see, my muse is..."
"Working with only one person, though... aren't you, hmm, riding on someone else's fame?..."
That was when Director So cut her off, voice perfectly level.
"Me? I'm riding on someone's fame? Mm-hm? Me?"
"Well, naturally.... If you only ever work with Yeo-reum, your portfolio as 'Dokgo Min' in her own right becomes a bit... nonexistent, doesn't it?... It becomes hard to properly establish your own image with the public, too...."
But Do Gyeo-ul or no Do Gyeo-ul, Director So didn't flinch an inch—she just fired back a counterpunch.
"Wouldn't you say you only earn the right to the word 'muse' by working with a variety of people and properly distilling your own identity into Yeo-reum? Collaborating with a single person isn't really grounds for muse status..."
For a moment, Dokgo Min was struck speechless. Director So quietly finished her thought.
"If you work with the famous Do Gyeo-ul, the public might forget everything you ever made with Yeo-reum and remember only 'Dokgo Min's Do Gyeo-ul'.... So did you, hmm, make a preemptive move and run away first?... A bit of a confidence issue, is it?... Or maybe you do have some practical sense after all..."
"...Th-this person. Who even is this person? Yeo-reum, you got tangled up with the wrong one. This director is unhinged."
"Yeo-reum. Even if I end up working with other actors, I will make sure the world remembers that Han Yeo-reum is So Ye-sol's muse.... Because I am. The top recruit in my MBS class, and the first among my cohort to... make my debut as a director."
Dokgo Min had lost. So Ye-sol had never been someone you could beat in a fight to begin with. Dokgo Min trembled with fury while Director So calmly crunched through the rest of her lettuce.
But honestly? I like it.
The more famous Dokgo Min became, the more I was destined to shine. After all, I was Han Yeo-reum—the woman who claimed the position of Dokgo Min's muse over every A-list actress in the country.
Dokgo Min's eyes sparked, as if she were itching to put Director So firmly back in her place. And I already knew exactly what that look meant.
She got properly inspired, didn't she.
A strong instinct told me my third great life photograph would be born on the set of Not Interested At All.
Maybe my terrestrial debut would draw a little more attention than even I had expected.