The Desert's Raging Waves
From that point on they worked through the dialogue up to the midpoint of the story, and with a round of applause the script reading came to an end.
After they finished filming a brief interview that followed, most of the supporting actors had already left the conference hall.
"Yeon-woo."
He was exchanging farewells with the remaining cast when Director Lee approached, calling his name.
"Yes, Director."
"Our ending scene needs a lot of CG work, so we have to get it in the can as soon as possible — and it involves horseback riding. I figured if you trained for about three weeks we could salvage most of it in the edit, but…"
At the director's words, Yeon-woo smiled as if this were the best news he had heard all day.
"I already know how to ride. I've been riding for a long time. Whenever you're ready, we can shoot."
In conflict zones, horses and camels were essential. Not only Ryu Yeon-woo but Han Hae-un as well could ride at a professional level. Yeon-woo handled a horse as well as most jockeys, and when he had chosen a historical drama as his next project, that skill had been part of the calculation.
Director Lee's mouth fell open with pure delight.
"Oh, really? Well, that takes a load off my mind. Securing the location was already a headache…"
To film the final ending scene — Seo Hui riding alone on a single horse straight into the heart of the massive Liao army — the only place in Korea that could stand in for a desert without an overseas shoot was Sinduri Coastal Sand Dune. The dune plants had begun to sprout, and for environmental conservation the permitted filming window closed at the end of next month. Director Lee Sang-hun had been praying Yeon-woo would pick up riding fast. If it came down to it, he had been prepared to abandon close-ups entirely, shoot only wide drone footage from a distance, and put a stunt double on the horse.
And now a young actor with zero historical-drama credits on his résumé could already ride. Every worry vanished at once.
"Then I'll lock the schedule as early as possible. They told me the CG for the Liao army is going to take a while."
"Understood, Director. I'll be ready."
As soon as Director Lee Sang-hun left, Seo Ji-eun came over, clasping her hands together.
"Your acting during the reading was absolutely incredible. Yeon-woo, let's drop the formal speech. Just talk casually."
Yeon-woo had enjoyed trading lines with her too; their rhythm clicked. It was a different kind of chemistry from what he had with Maseok Do. Maybe this was what Son Jin-uk and Han So-hyun had felt with each other back on Summer's Closet.
"Hmm. Shall we?"
"Hehe."
The more he looked at Seo Ji-eun's pale, delicate face and that slightly goofy smile, the more she reminded him of a little Han So-hyun.
"If we get close like friends, that synergy will show up on screen too. Noona Ji-eun."
"Just thinking about the shoot is already exciting."
Yeon-woo nodded and held out his hand. Ji-eun took it, shook, and laughed. With Son Jin-uk and Han So-hyun, who were more than ten years older by this life's reckoning, dropping formality still felt awkward. But with Seo Ji-eun, who was only two years older, it felt fine.
A few days after the script reading, Yeon-woo received word that the shooting schedule had been locked. Early that morning he rode in Min-su's car to Sinduri Coastal Sand Dune in Taean.
"Whoa. I didn't even know a place like this existed in our country."
Kim Min-su stepped out of the parking lot and looked around. The desertified coastal dunes stretched to the horizon in every direction. Sand-laden wind swept across the flats, giving the place the unmistakable feel of a true desert.
"It really does."
Answering Min-su, Yeon-woo gazed out over the sand and felt old Middle Eastern operations rise unbidden in his mind. Thinking of those ops naturally brought Han Hae-un to mind as well.
I wonder how the investigation is going.
A crew member who had been waiting in the parking lot approached and bowed.
"This way, please, sir."
Following the staffer's lead, Yeon-woo stepped into one of the trailers parked nearby. The special-effects makeup artist began affixing a beard and etching wrinkles into his face. Min-su watched the transformation in real time with open fascination. Yeon-woo, by contrast, remained perfectly calm as he watched himself age in the mirror. Special makeup was nothing new; he had used it plenty of times as an operative whenever a mission risked exposure to cameras or the press.
While the makeup was still underway, Director Lee Sang-hun and assistant writer Jeong Ye-na entered the trailer.
"Oh, Yeon-woo."
"Ah, Director. You're here."
"Don't talk — you'll knock the beard loose."
The director came over and gave Yeon-woo's shoulder a firm pat.
"I heard at the pre-production meeting that you'd ridden quite a bit, but we locked the location so fast I never got a chance to check your skill. It's been nagging at me. Just in case, I brought a stunt double too."
He was thinking of safety, of course. Yeon-woo looked at the director's reflection in the mirror and smiled gently.
"It's really fine. I'm comfortable on horseback."
He said it knowing his family would have tilted their heads in confusion if they had overheard. Still, when he had asked his younger sister So-hyun, she had confirmed the family had at least done a casual riding experience on Jeju Island once before. If anyone asked, he could simply claim he had picked it up properly during filming.
"This is on me for not expecting the dune permit to be this tight. Let's head outside, have you take a quick ride, and then decide how we proceed."
"Understood."
The director looked at least somewhat reassured.
"I'll go coordinate the set, then."
This was the scene that would crown the entire drama, and Yeon-woo could feel how much care the man was pouring into it. Director Lee patted his shoulder once more and left the trailer.
Assistant writer Jeong Ye-na, who had come in behind him, stayed behind, staring at Yeon-woo with bright, sparkling eyes.
"Writer Kim Jin-ju is still buried in the script, so I came in her place. I'm Jeong Ye-na, assistant writer."
"Ah, nice to meet you."
Yeon-woo spoke while moving his mouth as little as possible and offered his hand. Jeong Ye-na's eyes lit up like a predator locking onto prey; she clasped his hand in both of hers.
"Ahh, I'm losing it. I'm actually a member of Woo's."
Was this what idols felt like at fan meetings? She held his hand and met his gaze without blinking. Every time Yeon-woo met members of his fan café, Woo's, he still found it faintly surreal. He had only one released lead role to his name — Summer's Closet — and yet people had fallen for him from the brief appearances across those sixteen episodes.
"I'm always truly grateful. Really."
Yeon-woo looked at her with sincere warmth, packing every ounce of thanks into his eyes and smile.
"Ah—!"
With a short squeak, Ye-na clutched at her heart. Half of the reaction was playful, of course — but the other half was completely genuine.
I hit the jackpot today…
Just then the special-effects makeup artist finished and spoke up.
"All done. Time to get you into costume."
Both the makeup artist and Manager Kim Min-su turned to look at Jeong Ye-na.
"As a writer, I should probably, you know, check the costume for historical accuracy while it's being put on, or something…?"
Min-su met her eyes and quietly shook his head.
"Right. Of course not…"
Shoulders sagging, Jeong Ye-na slipped quietly out of the trailer.
"The costume is a bit complicated. It's still pretty hot outside, but you'll have to tough it out. It's going to be rough."
Seo Hui was recorded as excelling in both literary and martial arts, yet he had been a civil official of Goryeo. His attire as an envoy and the emperor's full plenipotentiary was nowhere near as heavy as a general's armor, but the layered robes were still elaborate and cumbersome.
Yeon-woo smiled.
"I'm good at enduring things."
Once the intricate sequence of robes and official hat was complete, he stepped out of the trailer.
"You must be hot, sir."
"I'm fine."
Leaving Min-su's concern behind him, he headed for the holding area.
"Oh, Yeon-woo, you're ready."
Director Lee greeted him, and together they walked onto the set. On one side a drone camera was running test flights; on the other, a handler was leading a horse over.
"A fall would be a real disaster. Want to try mounting first?"
The schedule was so tight they had thrown everything together at lightning speed, but Director Lee Sang-hun had never actually seen Yeon-woo ride and clearly wanted visual confirmation.
"Of course, Director. I'll take a light turn around the set."
In operational zones he had ridden horses and camels across every kind of rough terrain to avoid detection, so showing them firsthand seemed the best way to put needless worry to rest.
Yeon-woo approached the horse and stroked its mane.
Prrruh—.
It was a gentle veteran that had worked many shoots, but building a little rapport never hurt.
"You have sugar cubes?"
"Of course."
At Yeon-woo's question the handler pulled a square sugar cube from his front pocket. Most people mistakenly believed carrots were a horse's favorite treat; in truth, sugar cubes topped the list. Yeon-woo stroked the horse's forehead, met its eyes, and fed it the cube. The animal blinked its large eyes contentedly under the touch.
"You handle horses well."
The handler remarked, and Yeon-woo simply smiled.
"Is he afraid of drones or cameras?"
"He's done plenty of shoots. He's used to them."
"Mind if I take a short ride around?"
The handler nodded and handed over the reins. Even in the cumbersome costume, Yeon-woo swung into the saddle in one fluid, practiced motion.
"All right. Let's walk for a bit."
He took the reins with easy confidence and guided the horse across the sandy desert surrounding the set.
"Well, look at that. He really can ride."
Watching him, Director Lee Sang-hun nodded, shed the last of his worry, and threw himself into final preparations.
A few minutes later, once the cameras were set, the director called out.
"Yeon-woo, we're ready to roll."
"Yes, Director."
Yeon-woo rode over to the starting mark.
"The horse might startle, so I won't give a verbal cue. When you're ready, just charge straight toward camera."
Yeon-woo nodded in understanding.
"Ready?"
He stroked the horse's mane, quietly connecting with the animal. Then he gathered the reins, touched his heels to its flanks, and they surged forward together at speed.
Horses love to run. But they are also intelligent, skittish creatures that instinctively gauge how fast they can go by the skill of the rider on their back. The better the rider, the faster the horse becomes. Ryu Yeon-woo worked the reins with practiced ease, lifting his seat slightly and settling into the rhythm of the gallop, and the horse poured on more and more speed.
Not to be outdone, the drone camera raced above them, locking onto Yeon-woo as he tore across the desertified plain. Far ahead stood the green tracking poles planted for CG; Yeon-woo fixed his gaze on them, imagining the vast Liao army waiting there, and rode with a face full of grim resolve. It was the image of Seo Hui, carrying the fate of Goryeo on his back, charging straight into the storm.
The drone stuck with him at full throttle, capturing the kinetic power of the charge. Then it climbed higher. Before any CG work, the plain ahead was empty — but behind Yeon-woo a sandstorm boiled up in the wake of the horse's full-speed run. The calm sea of the open plain in front and the raging sand-born waves thrashing behind formed a majestic, stark contrast.
Director Lee Sang-hun stared at the outdoor field monitor fed by the drone operator's panel, lost in awe.
"…Even with zero processing, a shot this good will go down in historical-drama history."
Beside him, the handler who had been watching the same feed to check the horse's condition let out a low whistle of admiration.
"That actor rides incredibly well. To hit that kind of speed you usually need a professional jockey."
On the monitor, Yeon-woo began easing the horse down, turning it in a wide arc to head back.