A Wall, and Someone Who Breaks It
"No, no~. I wasn't calling you over. I was telling you to go sit~ over there."
So I hadn't been summoned after all. There wasn't even a spare chair, and once my wound makeup was done I'd have to head straight back into the shoot, which is why I'd been hovering awkwardly in place. I settled into the corner of the sofa where Yoon Hyeon-jo was pointing.
"How was my acting earlier?"
We'd dropped the honorifics for a moment back at the izakaya, but he seemed the type to keep his distance, because he'd switched right back to formal speech. I answered obediently.
"It was incredible. Yoon Hyeon-jo, as expected. The greatest action actor there is."
"Hey, if Hyeon-jo's the greatest, then what does that make me?!"
From across the set, the senior actor playing Detective Gwak bellowed loud enough to rattle the rafters. Laughter rolled through the filming location. Thanks to everything running smoothly, the mood was fantastic — and the making-of camera just happened to be rolling, too.
"Then… then I'll simply declare that you're also the greatest, sunbaenim!"
"What's this~? If there are two 'greatests,' then the word 'greatest' loses all meaning."
At Yoon Hyeon-jo's remark, I waved my hands awkwardly and ducked my head.
'I hope this aired as "Han Yeo-reum getting played between two legendary seniors." Great for my image.'
The making-of camera had already slipped away toward the gang members diligently getting their wound makeup touched up.
Meanwhile, I had to resume the Yoon Hyeon-jo Compliment Hour, currently on pause. He was staring straight at me with eyes that said, That's all you've got?
"Someday, I really want to do action too. I'm learning so much on set thanks to you sunbaenim. You're the best!"
Yoon Hyeon-jo rose from his seat as he finished his simple touch-up. From across the set, I could hear the crew calling him away for his making-of interview.
"You're already good, though. You made it onto the real-time trending videos."
"You even know it's climbing the trending charts?"
Yoon Hyeon-jo. You are the finest senior of this era. To take such an interest in a junior like me….
And no, I was absolutely not saying this just because he happened to be the only person on this set who knew my ASMR video had hit the real-time trending list. He was the upright, wise, destined-for-greatness type.
"Forget what I said last time."
"What did you say?"
"That I didn't know if you were better than Do Gyeo-ul."
How could I possibly forget? Back then, Yoon Hyeon-jo, you were a zero-star senior to me. The cider I drank that day still tasted bitter in my memory.
"If Do Gyeo-ul feels like a wall… then what should I call you, junior? Like a wall that comes crumbling down? There's something about you like that."
Yoon Hyeon-jo gave a little flick of his chin, gesturing that I should sit in my own chair instead of squatting by the sofa, and gave my shoulder a light pat.
"And from the perspective of someone acting opposite you~. The latter is far better. Mm… I didn't even realize that about myself."
Then Yoon Hyeon-jo turned his back and walked away.
I watched him go for a moment, then carefully lowered myself into the chair. It adjusted at the touch of a lever, sturdy and solid beneath me.
Ever since I'd resolved to reclaim my name, the list of things I wanted seemed to have grown infinite.
'Someday… could I keep my own chair on set, too?'
I wanted to carve out my place. In the heart of the filming set, on the silver screens of every theater, along the storied streets of Chungmuro — I wanted to exist everywhere the eye could reach.
Greed kept welling up inside me. The desire to do better, just a little better, swelled fiercer and fiercer by the day.
Would you like to recommend this?
Click.
Do Gyeo-ul pressed the "Yes" button. On the monitor, Gyeo-ul's own social media photos and Han Yeo-reum's awards ceremony photos now sat side by side.
Daily Media. She knew the outlet well — it was a paper that had interviewed her more than once.
Scrolling down the article, Do Gyeo-ul smiled with her eyes narrowed.
The styling photos of celebrated former child actress Do Gyeo-ul and rising new talent Han Yeo-reum — both dressed in the same outfit, yet radiating entirely different vibes — were making the rounds. Both women wore a vintage black dress produced by Company C in the eighties, each captivating attention with her own distinct charm. Do Gyeo-ul, in her classically tailored look….
"As expected…."
Articles like this almost always trained their focus on the side doing the pushing. And Do Gyeo-ul had always been on the more heavily emphasized side. The background she carried, the standing she had built, and — last of all — the skill that backed it all up had seen to that.
"How entertaining…."
And yet, both Daily Media and Leel had weighted their pieces toward Han Yeo-reum. Both were second to none when it came to sniffing out the celebrity on the way up.
"How on earth did you… end up looking so good to places this discerning?"
The experience was unfamiliar to her. Just as Gyeo-ul's own assessment had put it, things were unfolding in a genuinely interesting way.
Half of her heart pounded with anticipation of how high Han Yeo-reum might climb. The other half throbbed with an impulse to watch that summer writhe and thrash — desperate, flailing — unable to quite reach Do Gyeo-ul herself.
Click. Click. Click.
Gyeo-ul's monitoring was far from over. For a woman whose searches had once been limited to her own name a handful of times, she now found herself looking up Han Yeo-reum's name as if it were a habit.
'A rookie who's shot exactly one web drama, of all things.'
Han Yeo-reum, with no agency behind her at all, was winning over reporters and the public on her own strength. In an industry where every image was manufactured from the blood and sweat of agency staff, a type like her was a rare breed.
'At least as far as I remember… there's never been one like her.'
Gyeo-ul replayed the memory of Yeo-reum at the Le-el Style Awards. That face, standing on the podium clutching that trifling little trophy, meeting her gaze dead-on. The raw, unguarded emotions that had flickered across it for an instant.
"But still…."
Click.
One click snuffed out the layers of stacked windows at once, and in the dead black of the screen, Do Gyeo-ul's angelic face reflected back at her.
"Summer should stay summer."
She had no right to sit beside the name Do Gyeo-ul. Having ended her monitoring, Gyeo-ul picked up her phone and called her agency.
"Director, when will our article start going up?"
"I'd like to do that interview as well."
No matter how far InTube's influence flew, her opponent was a terrestrial broadcaster. Gyeo-ul wanted to show Yeo-reum what real mainstream popularity looked like.
If Yeo-reum saw her standing at an awards ceremony that made something like the Le-el Style Awards look like a child's recital, Gyeo-ul was certain she would read something new in it.
"Daily Media."
Gyeo-ul wanted to learn what it felt like — that emotion called frustration, which she had never once experienced. Through Yeo-reum's expression, her gestures, her voice.
"I'd like to do it with Reporter Wi Jae-hwi."
If she kept absorbing Yeo-reum's things one by one like this, then someday, perhaps, she might finally escape her father's dreaded verdict.
Yes — that damnable verdict that said she could not understand human emotion.
[At Last, Twenty — "I've Waited My Whole Life for This Day": Do Gyeo-ul Takes on Classic Romance]
[From Child Star to Leading Lady… Do Gyeo-ul Ends Her Hiatus, Cast as Female Lead of Beyond the Closed Door]
[Netizens Smile Fondly at Do Gyeo-ul's Beautiful Growth: "She's Grown Up So Well~"]
The moment news of Do Gyeo-ul's terrestrial drama broke, it began sweeping the entertainment news rankings.
"There it is…."
This was the MBS Drama Department. Dark circles carved deep beneath her eyes, So Ye-sol fixed her gaze once more on the footage she had watched to the point of exhaustion for weeks on end.
"There it is…."
The rough cut had barely been finished, but even in this state it was polished enough to feel complete.
No matter how many times she watched, she never tired of it. From the gray sprawl of the city to the green, tree-shrouded village — she had packed everything she wanted into this single-episode drama.
Click.
Pressing the space bar to play the footage again, So Ye-sol gazed at Yeo-reum on the monitor.
'And that's without the music even added yet….'
The reason it never felt empty came down to one thing: Han Yeo-reum's voice. Jung Yeon-doo, steeped in sighs and irritation, could carry an entire scene on presence alone.
'Where on earth did she learn this?'
That voice — the one the sound team of Not Interested At All had fussed and fawned over time and time again.
So Ye-sol tried to estimate how much an OST would raise the footage's quality. Everything from a quiet, still piece to a rollicking track that captured the noisy village hall exactly as it was.
'It's still at the draft stage, but — it was already a brilliant OST.'
The finished film was already vivid in her mind's eye. So Ye-sol prepared to refine the footage once more. The broadcast date had been set, and she planned to edit carefully, step by step, toward that deadline…
And then —
BANG!
The editing room door burst open. The music director, still gasping for breath, stared at Director So with trembling eyes.
"Why… why are you looking at me like that… like something terrible happened…."
"Director So, we have a problem. A big one."