The Flower Bloomed from Hatred
The director of photography, Ji Jang-min, didn't even notice his eyes turning bloodshot. It was a moment where even blinking felt like a waste of time. His entire body screamed at him to drop the camera right then and there—to witness it firsthand, to savor it fully. But what held him firm was his professional pride as a cinematographer. A man who had lived for the lens, he kept his gaze locked through the viewfinder to capture the perfect shot.
Kim Donghu—no, Ije now—was utterly mad in the camera's frame. As he poured out his emotions on the piano, he suddenly fixed his gaze on the lens. Look at me. Let only me fill your eyes. I'll kill you if you look at anything lesser. Face my hatred head-on. Even with zero knowledge of piano, it hit him: I feel it. Kim Donghu—no, Ije—conveyed exactly what he wanted to say. And this resonated even more intensely with those witnessing Ije in the flesh, beyond the screen.
Whoa, just watching him play gives me chills.
PD Kim Youngmo had briefly deluded himself into thinking he was at a concert hall. Perfect immersion. If Ije were truly alive, wouldn't it be like this? Never half-assing even a simple practice. Constantly proving his genius, forced to confront hatred every single day. The radiant solitude of a genius seeped through.
And soon, the performance built to its climax. The grand piano's key difference from an upright is the pedals—especially the sustain pedal in the center, which handles the nuance of tones. Only Ije could press it with that hatred, altering the sound's delivery. The subtlest shift in delicacy. Writer Lee Min-ha, who knew those details intimately, was on the verge of fainting.
Ah... aaaah.
To be honest, characters from scripts coming to life through acting wasn't rare—especially for popular writers like her. But nothing like this. This wasn't acting. The real Ije had appeared and was playing the piano. A flower grown on hatred, showered with applause from countless audiences yet scorned by those whose approval he craved most. Ije had truly torn the script apart and emerged.
I... I have to work with actor Kim Donghu on my next project. No matter what, absolutely... I'll make him the lead. Kim Donghu, I need to... An indescribable catharsis swept through her body. Her hyper-excited state cycled between tension release and buildup.
The performance raced toward its end. Having unleashed every ounce of hatred, Ije's hands gradually stilled. Amid the fading notes and monotonous tones...
Drop.
The final key struck by Ije's tear. A sorrow he couldn't stop, despite knowing his hatred was abnormal. An injustice no one had ever asked if he was okay about. How much had Ije endured to shed those tears? The drop, squeezed like blood from his veins, was Ije's scream—and his lifeblood.
"Ah... aaaah..."
What am I watching right now?
Lee Min-ha's tension melted away.
"Writer?!"
Kim Youngmo, beside her, jumped in shock.
"Y-yes?" What? Why call me now? The afterglow's still lingering. She shot him an irritated glance, then froze at his next words.
"N-nosebleed!"
"What?!" Nosebleed? Wait, why am I dizzy all of a sudden?
Thud. Lee Min-ha lost her balance and toppled toward the chair.
"Writer?!?!"
A brief commotion. Yeogo principal Edward Park noticed the collapse but paid it no mind—or rather, couldn't.
I see it.
Edward Park was certain: this actor's future lay beyond mere performance. The playing itself wasn't masterful. But the emotional density packed into it was insane. Just a little polish, the tiniest tweaks. With time to solidify his technique...
I see a maestro's future.
This kid wasn't meant for acting. He was fated for the piano. Edward Park was convinced and resolved: scholarship or recommendation—whatever it took to enroll him.
The performance ended.
Whoosh! 'Ije' faded away. No lingering emotional aftertaste. But it was exhausting.
So playing the piano takes this much out of you.
The full exertion from his still-growing 14-year-old body. Despite years of training, piano was a whole different beast.
Just a quick break.
Deep breath. He closed the keyboard lid to tidy up.
And in that instant—
"Gahhhhh!!!"
The director's passionate OK sign rang out, followed by thunderous applause. Proof everyone was satisfied with Ije's performance.
Feels good.
As he rose with a warm glow—
Someone rushed toward him. "After a performance like that, you need to ease out of the emotions slowly. Otherwise, it's rough on you."
Veteran senior and Yeogo principal/Wang Ho actor Jang Geonho. He patted my back reassuringly.
"That was truly, truly precious."
"Exactly, Donghu. I felt it back then too, but..."
Kim Yuryeon had approached, placing a bottled water on the piano. A thoughtful gesture for after he'd composed himself.
But.
I'm actually fine.
I really was. But you can't bluntly say that in a situation like this. I nodded slowly, feigning exhaustion.
"...Thank you for the consideration."
"No need to reply."
"Right, Donghu. Take care of yourself first."
The industry seniors' warm care was touching—yet burdensome.
I'm dying under the weight.
"What the hell just happened?"
ST Ent's CEO Kim Gilsan clicked his tongue watching the set.
Just fourteen. Endless room to grow. Yet already delivering that level of acting.
Everyone's completely deflated.
He glanced at the actors playing Hidae Dream members.
Lots of NGs today.
Crushed expressions. Kim Gilsan knew well what happened when idols with faces like that hit the stage. After years in entertainment, the outcome was obvious.
"Honestly, I blame the writer."
Lee Sang-hak, CEO of Pulledi with the same sentiment, grumbled beside him. A veteran who'd raised countless actors, he knew exactly how the set's vibe would sour.
"The script says our kids have to beat him in the end."
Possible? Even imaginable? They thought he was just talented at first. But the lid revealed something unreal.
Sigh. His breath escaped like cigarette smoke.
Regret was regret, though.
Shuffle. Shuffle.
"What're you doing?"
"What about you, hyung?"
"Me? Pulling out my card. Oh, and introduce yourself later. Kim Donghu, our new ST Ent family. I'll hook you up after shooting."
Kim Gilsan, weasel-faced and sly, grinned. Lee Sang-hak, toad-like, trembled with rage.
"You've got some nerve joking like that. Kim Donghu's with Pulledi."
"Says who!"
"Then who says for you?!"
As the CEOs bickered from a safe distance—
A real frenzy brewed farther off.
"Who's that? Who is he?"
"Don't push! Push again and I'll smash your camera!"
"Hey, come out! I came for him!"
"Bullshit—you're here for Jin Su-hyuk! Everyone knows! Get lost!"
The reporters gathered for promo making-of footage had lost it over the surprise star.
Regardless, shooting resumed swiftly. With Ije's practice done, next was Hidae Dream's ensemble rehearsal. It sounded decent, but no one was impressed. It was overshadowed. Ije's hatred-laced performance lingered in their ears, whispering throughout: Talent can't be caught by effort. I'll kill all the inferiors.
After all shooting wrapped.
"Exhausting."
I shoved my weary body—drained from endless refusals—into a taxi.
They all insisted on driving me home. Rejecting each one had sucked the life out of me.
Time to get an agency.
Can't keep soloing set commutes forever. I needed one to handle this.
Ideally, hand it to Minhyuk, who'd maxed his kart license. But.
He's prepping for pro kart these days.
His words about honing driving skills still rang clear.
Anyway, nest-building time.
Bzzz bzzz.
"Dad?"
—Yeah, son. Shooting go well?
"Yep, as always."
—Nothing major, but can you swing by that building in Bundang?
Long story short: A new single guy moved in. Grateful for the hospitality, he'd set a dinner meetup. Curious about the "hospitality," Dad learned late I'd always sent flower wreaths for new tenants. Praising my thoughtfulness, he figured I should go instead.
"Sure, no issue. I'll head over."
—That's my grown-up boy, full of smarts.
"Haha, whose son is this?"
Dad, in high spirits, unleashed months of chatter.
Who's the new tenant again? Choi... Seokho?
My eyes widened. The building was in my name, but Dad managed it—I barely paid attention.
Should've kept closer tabs.
The agency from [Sims - The Real Life]—the one I'd join—was in my building.