The Rain That Buries a Cry
“ASMR?”
“Simply put, it's video content made of sounds that stimulate the five senses. There are many different kinds — tapping sounds, natural sounds like raindrops or a crackling fire, soft whispering voices, even role-play that lets you experience a specific situation.”
As Jegal Rok listened to Team Leader Seong's explanation, a light kindled in his eyes.
He found himself wondering what might emerge if JC ENM poured in all of its manpower, capital, and time — and Jegal Rok's instincts were layered on top of Han Yeo-reum's talent.
“I'm thinking the idols could go the simple ASMR route, while the actors in JC ENM's films and dramas do character-specific role-play. If their schedules are too tight, even a simple script-reading in a whisper would work beautifully.”
A tingling sensation spread from his heart through his whole body.
A second project built around Han Yeo-reum….
With Han Yeo-reum's voice, he was confident they could push well beyond the five-minute runtimes. He wanted to make something on a different wavelength from cheap, stimulating clickbait content.
Han Yeo-reum, he judged, could be the very first key to the door Jegal Rok was trying to open.
Having visualized a video starring Han Yeo-reum, Jegal Rok chose his second battlefield on the spot.
Voice.
A high-fidelity voice that conjured scenes to mind. That was exactly what he needed.
Setting the board would be simple. Once the platform became trendy and built a hip, cutting-edge image, even those prideful actors would be clamoring to appear. When he imagined the agencies that would come calling first, just hoping to get a glimpse of their stars' faces, a laugh slipped out of him.
“In keeping with the Web Content Department's mission, let's not stop at a web drama script — let's expand the board into our own original content. The production budget and activity funds will all be covered by me.”
A peculiar smile bloomed across Jegal Rok's perpetually expressionless, fatigue-lined face. Who would ever believe that a single cable broadcaster, starting from an InTube channel, would go on to overturn every terrestrial network in the country?
But to Jegal Rok, that fantasy didn't feel absurd in the slightest.
“Whatever it costs, I'll take responsibility.”
In that moment, Jegal Rok was dreaming of a perfect reversal. His eyes, shadowed by deep dark circles, gleamed.
Word of what Jegal Rok had said in the conference room spread with astonishing speed. News that the Jegal Rok himself was preparing a new project was something everyone found fascinating.
The news reached Myeong Je-ha as he was reading through a screenplay.
“Na Sil-jang, I want to do that thing too.”
“What? ASMR?”
“Yes. ASMR. It sounds fun.”
Na Sil-jang of Noble Actors — already beside herself because Myeong Je-ha had yet to pick his next project — practically choked.
“Je-ha! Why would a film actor go on something like that? Do you have any idea how important image management is? It drags your image way down.”
“Haha. I'm still a rookie, though — not much of an image to drag down yet.”
“Rookie or not! Look, even if it is Jegal Rok's project, this one is a bit… no, wait.”
Na Sil-jang went on and on about how critical Myeong Je-ha's next role would be.
“JC ENM? They can't hold a candle to the terrestrial networks yet. But at least the film industry knows their name. Broadcasting? Not yet. And InTube? Even less so!”
Myeong Je-ha obediently pretended to reread his screenplay while his mind wandered elsewhere.
Things would inevitably flow the way Myeong Je-ha wanted sooner or later, so there was no need to press the point.
What would be a good next project for Han Yeo-reum….
Jegal Rok, presumably, would follow the same trajectory as he always had.
Elevating 'web content' into the mainstream.
Adapting webtoons and web novels into live-action was Jegal Rok's plan.
Jegal Rok has always had a good eye. He's never failed once.
Bringing in an already-popular original made it easy to draw in an existing fanbase, and drama viewers could accept web content naturally that way.
When it came to making money, he was a dead-cert.
It had been Jegal Rok who activated everything — the originals, the dramas, and eventually even the merchandising that had once belonged to a small circle of devoted fans.
Myeong Je-ha searched his memory.
JC ENM had been uploading basic content to its InTube account — drama and film trailers, behind-the-scenes footage, script readings. But the new content experiments hadn't started this season.
They're definitely running a few years ahead of schedule.
Things that had only been executed four or five years after this point in time were happening right now. And two of them bundled together, no less.
Among the web novel adaptations… what was it Do Gyeo-ul did again?
Do Gyeo-ul had an endless list of credits. Some runs, she had made perfectly identical choices back to back; other runs, completely different paths.
So much changed with every regression. More than he could hope to remember.
Ah. That one.
But Myeong Je-ha's brain worked diligently.
“Then, Na Sil-jang, could you pass along one web novel to Team Leader Seong as an ASMR recommendation?”
“Je-ha! If you're going to leave, leave later. Not now, absolutely not. That one is a bit— no, wait.”
“No, I mean it. Have Yeo-reum recommend it. I heard about it from Director Gong and some of the others last time….”
It was a lie, of course. Myeong Je-ha smiled as he recommended a web novel to Na Sil-jang.
No one was sober enough that night to remember the conversation in detail anyway.
It was a drama Do Gyeo-ul had filmed but that never made it to air — a production that had been scrapped entirely midway through shooting.
“That? Well… I can mention it to Team Leader Seong, sure. Je-ha. Let's not think about anything else, okay? Just focus on finding your next project. We can't wait forever, you know.”
“I know. That's why I'm diligently reading my scripts.”
It was because of the event that was set to shake the Korean entertainment industry at the end of next year.
Could this change things too?
It was a blank-slate production — its ratings and buzz never once revealed to the world.
Only natural, since it had never premiered at all. Myeong Je-ha thought of Han Yeo-reum, standing at the center of it all.
How far could that girl bend the future? It was impossible to measure.
The climax shoot had finally arrived. A deep pit had been dug at the foot of the mountain. Between the cries of crickets, the staff murmured into their walkie-talkies.
“Lighting team — check the crane one more time, please.”
“The rail feels like it's shifting! Level the ground out a little more!”
Crane lights raised high, camera rails laid across the dirt, and even a massive water truck. The set hummed with activity.
“Yeo-reum, don't worry too much. You'll do great…. I'll make sure the water hits you just right, okay—?”
“No, please don't hold back.”
Taking Yeo-reum's gaze at the water truck for fear, Director So patted her on the shoulder. Yeo-reum smiled up at the lights hanging overhead like a full moon.
“Actually, I'd love it if you made the rain really heavy. Enough to bury the sound of crying.”
She had to know this shoot would be brutal on her body, and yet her face betrayed not a trace of it. That peculiar, gritty cheerfulness you only ever saw in a rookie radiated off her.
The staff and Director So looked at her and found themselves smiling. Even the extras, who had matched beats with her dozens of times, felt the corners of their mouths lift.
“All right, one blocking rehearsal — then we shoot immediately!”
At last, the cameras rolled. This was the pivotal scene of Not Interested At All — the one that would move audiences to tears.
I walked in a daze. The dirt ground was soaked through with rain, and still I paid it no mind. Jung Yeon-doo, always so put-together, had only one thing left in her head: Boksun.
“Boksun-ah! Boksun-ah!”
Right before Boksun disappeared, I'd overheard talk in town about a dog dealer. Boksun had crossed my mind at once — but she wasn't my dog, I'd told myself, so the responsibility wasn't mine. How I regretted thinking that.
“Boksun-ah!!!”
Clutching the flashlight tight in my hand, I called for her and her alone. I remembered the light little creature who panted and grinned, who wagged her tail first and rolled over to show her belly. My body kept soaking through. Cold sweat mingled with the rain and ran down my skin.
50% of the audience has begun to focus on you!
Current audience: 33
The system window appeared, but there was no room in me to care.
“…Boksun-ah!”
Boksun was nowhere. That had been the problem — brushing it off because it wasn't my responsibility. It was all my fault….
“Cut—!”
The moment Director So shouted, Dokgo Min came running over with a towel. I dodged her hand as she reached up to dry my hair.
“Unnie, I'm fine.”
“What are you talking about? You're soaked!”
“I just… don't think I should wipe the water off right now….”
The scene of running away and leaving Boksun behind — the strange emotion I'd felt right before it rippled through my head again, identical to the last. A delicious kind of tension.
“Yeo-reum… we're going straight to the close-up. You're okay, right?”
I nodded at Director So.
Just a little further — I could get a little closer to Jung Yeon-doo. Right now, I didn't want to exist as Han Yeo-reum, but as Jung Yeon-doo.
Not Pi Chae-won, and not Influencer 1 — but Jung Yeon-doo, the character who perhaps shared the most with the real me.
“Ready—!”
The rain-covered camera took its place in front of me. I hardened my eyes.
I can't cry….
There was no one left to comfort her if she cried. Crying changed nothing. Crying only cost her.
That was the thought that came first. The lessons Jung Yeon-doo had learned over a lifetime of living seemed to seep out of her body as her emotions locked themselves down.
“Action!”