The Hidden Script
Director Lee Tae-ryun, who had been sharing drinks with writer Yun Song-i in a corner of the after-party, watched Kim Doyun and the venomous-eyed Kim Chan-uk before turning to the floor director.
“One more rehearsal. Can we run it again?”
“Huh? We could, but the budget…”
“Keep it to the bare minimum. I’ll cover any extra costs if needed. I have a feeling something good will come out of it.”
It happened right after Kim Chan-uk had left.
“Read this.”
Lee Se-rin handed over the script for Flowers Fall. I had no idea why she wanted me to read it, but I opened it anyway.
“It’s just the script, Miss Superstar.”
Lee Se-rin answered my joke without missing a beat, her tone indifferent.
“Look at the letter scene.”
I flipped through the pages until I reached Act 3.
'huh?'
It was completely different from the script I knew. Especially Sang-cheol’s lines—they had all been rewritten.
Lee Se-rin asked with cold eyes, “What do you think?”
What did I think? The content was nothing like the original. It was a version where Sang-cheol had actually been in love with Ha-rang all along.
“Where did you get this?”
“I don’t know. I just picked it up.”
“Picked it up? It’s not some wild script growing on the street…”
Yun Song-i had probably dropped it during the long after-party. It looked like one of the versions she had ultimately decided not to use.
“A script of this quality… it’s probably the writer’s work.”
“Probably.”
“Then why give it to me?”
Lee Se-rin fell silent for a moment before answering.
“…Just read it.”
“Huh?”
“After reading this, Sang-cheol’s actions finally make sense. You should see it too.”
It sounded like she was saying the script would help me. “This belongs to the writer.”
“I wouldn’t know. I only saw a script that had fallen on the floor.”
“You’re not a superstar, you’re a master thief.”
“I really did just pick it up.”
Lee Se-rin looked away. Teasing Lee Se-rin… this might actually be fun.
I stared at the script in my hands. I thought I understood why she had said that.
‘Even just skimming it…’
It worked. This was a version that explained why Sang-cheol had moved for Ha-rang’s sake and why he had looked after Min-woo. And more than anything, it was interesting.
But this version would never make it onto the stage. This level of adaptation was practically a challenge to the original work. That was why Yun Song-i had kept it hidden.
Holding the script, I answered her. “Thanks. I’ll return this to Writer Yun Song-i.”
Lying in bed, I looked at the text floating before my eyes.
> [Flowers Fall] — Understanding of the character ‘Sang-cheol’ has reached a certain level.
> [Director’s Vision – Acting Assist (Sang-cheol)] acquired.
> Replicates the director’s intended actions for ‘Sang-cheol’ in reality.
> Consumes 100 PT per minute of use.
An ability I had gained after the incident with Kim Chan-uk.
‘Understanding level, huh.’
I never would have guessed that trying to provoke Kim Chan-uk would end up raising my understanding of Sang-cheol.
‘More importantly, 100 PT per minute…’
Unlike previous uses of Director’s Vision, this one had a point cost.
‘Maybe the Actor Gallery people saying “points equal skill” meant something like this.’
If I succeeded with this, I could earn even more points. In other words—use now, pay later!
Even after the final rehearsal ended, Director Lee Tae-ryun had insisted on an extra one. Today was the last rehearsal before the live broadcast.
‘Director Lee Tae-ryun really is something else.’
This rehearsal had never been on the original schedule. Only a minimal number of staff and actors remained.
‘Not that I’m complaining.’
Ever since I read that revised script, my emotions refused to settle. To be precise, my heart kept leaning toward the revised version.
‘It’s completely bewitched me.’
Even though I understood it better in my head, what good was holding different emotions from the actual script? So before the live broadcast, I wanted to use Director’s Vision at least once to correct my performance.
-We’ll begin the next rehearsal right away!
Because we were cramming every rehearsal into a single day, there was no time to rest.
‘Kim Chan-uk really sharpened his blade.’
His acting had clearly improved. As a result, the overall quality of the stage had risen, so maybe that was a good thing.
Kim Chan-uk, drenched in sweat, shouted, “I’m sorry! Could we try this part one more time?”
“Of course.”
His passion had completely changed. The old Kim Chan-uk would never have lowered himself like this just to avoid being looked down on. After that after-party, he had set aside his pride and thrown himself into acting.
As I thought that, my eyes met Kim Chan-uk’s. His brows furrowed.
‘He still doesn’t have any manners when it comes to me.’
Then Kim Chan-uk gave me a light nod of acknowledgment.
‘At least he greets me now.’
The staff’s opinions of him had improved as well.
“Kim Chan-uk is really working hard.”
“Something must have changed after that after-party.”
“But tomorrow’s the live broadcast. Do you think he’ll be okay?”
“Can’t you tell just by watching? He’s a completely different person from a week ago.”
“He might even be as good as Kim Doyun now.”
“Hey, Kim Chan-uk was always the lead. Of course he should be better.”
A world where I was being compared one-on-one with Kim Chan-uk… which Earth was this again?
‘I have no intention of losing to him in acting, though.’
Just then, someone called my name.
“Kim Doyun, please prepare for rehearsal!”
It was the rehearsal for my final scene.
I looked at the text floating before my eyes.
> [Director’s Vision – Acting Assist (Sang-cheol)]
> Consumes 100 PT per minute.
The newly acquired Acting Assist. A ridiculous cost of 100 points per minute. I had no idea how much this would raise my appearance fee. Besides, I needed to save points for the actual broadcast.
I looked at the bottom of the text.
> Remaining Points: 3000 PT
I had collected quite a lot over the past month.
I made up my mind. I should use it at least once before the live broadcast.
‘If I panic, everything will go wrong.’
The final scene was only about five minutes long. It was worth using.
Kim Chan-uk wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Haa…… haa……”
Staring at the floor, he smiled.
‘I did it.’
This was the first time in his life he had worked this hard. Even while throwing tantrums, he had somehow negotiated with his agency, cleared his schedule until the live broadcast, and focused solely on acting.
And today, the results had appeared. Kim Chan-uk could feel it himself—his acting had improved.
It felt like fireworks were exploding in front of his eyes. He finally understood how he should perform. It was a sensation Kim Chan-uk had never experienced before.
‘With this, I’m way ahead of that guy…’
It wasn’t only Kim Chan-uk who was impressed by the change.
“Kim Chan-uk seems like a completely different person after just a few days.”
At Yun Song-i’s admiration, Director Lee Tae-ryun replied as if it were obvious.
“That’s what talent is.”
“What are you talking about? Weren’t you the one saying you’d replace the lead just a few days ago…?”
“Ahem.”
No matter how hard someone tried, talent was something that could never be changed. Lee Tae-ryun knew that better than anyone.
His strength wasn’t in directing or staging. It was in drawing out an actor’s talent.
That was why he found it absurd that he had doubted his own eyes.
‘To think I considered replacing someone with that kind of talent and giving the lead to Kim Doyun. Hah.’
His eyes had been right after all. Kim Chan-uk had simply been lost for a moment. Once that was corrected, he immediately became captivating again.
Yun Song-i laughed as if joking. “Still, Kim Doyun is performing just as well, isn’t he? I think it would’ve been fine even if you’d switched the lead.”
“That’s because you’re Kim Doyun’s number-one fan club member.”
“What are you saying?”
Director Lee Tae-ryun tapped the armrest as he answered, his gaze fixed on Kim Doyun.
“He’s good.”
Yun Song-i replied in surprise, “That’s high praise coming from you. It’s the first time I’ve seen you change your opinion about an actor.”
“High praise, huh.”
Even as Director Lee Tae-ryun denied it, he knew it instinctively. Kim Doyun was excellent. But that alone wasn’t enough.
“That guy… is strange.”
“Strange?”
Director Lee Tae-ryun’s eyes sharpened.
When Kim Doyun acted, there were times when it didn’t feel like acting at all. It was an eerie sensation, as if he were looking at an entirely different world beyond the empty space. Everyone was acting on the same stage, yet only Kim Doyun felt like he was performing in another realm.
It was hard to call it talent, and it didn’t feel human enough to call it effort.
Director Lee Tae-ryun opened his mouth. “As a supporting actor, he’s perfect. He is the character Sang-cheol itself.”
“And yet?”
The lead was different.
‘Can he weave that kind of acting throughout the entire play?’
Actors lacking lead experience eventually found their directing and acting subtly misaligning as time passed. It was a chronic problem for actors who had spent too long as extras.
‘Kim Doyun shows that tendency sometimes.’
In that sense, entrusting the lead role to Kim Doyun was a gamble.
‘I must have gone crazy for a moment.’
Just as Director Lee Tae-ryun thought that—
“We’ll begin the final scene for the role of Sang-cheol!”