Good is Good
Just three days into filming, a major accident nearly erupted. And of all places, right where the kids were.
Ha Moo-young shook off the chills creeping up his spine and stared at the spot where the stray ghost had vanished.
Did it help me out?
Or had he simply spotted it himself and intervened? Whatever the case, Moo-young felt a wave of relief—and gratitude—for the first time ever seeing a stray ghost with his own eyes.
"Director! You done checking over there?"
"Yeah! Sweep every inch just in case."
"All clear here!"
With the lighting team inspecting the ceiling, all work ground to a halt. Everyone watched them anxiously.
"Director Jin Kyung-mun."
The lighting director approached, wiping sweat from his brow after the check.
Lighting and sound crews were typically contracted out by the production company. They held critical roles on set—equal in importance, yet the hierarchy between client and contractor was stark, especially when safety issues arose from negligence.
"I don't know what happened, but we were really thorough when we installed it."
That gap widened even more in cases like this.
"If you were so thorough, why was it loose?"
Jin Kyung-mun placed a hand on his hip, his usual mild demeanor replaced by a goblin-like glare sharp as frost.
"No, I mean, we were... Maybe the still photographer bumped it while up there..."
At that, the still photographer slung his camera down from his neck—a gesture screaming innocence.
"I only pressed the shutter. Didn't touch a thing. It's all on here if you want to check."
The lighting director clamped his mouth shut like he'd swallowed honey.
Jin Kyung-mun just pressed his throbbing temples.
"A lighting rail, of all things—"
He swallowed his rising irritation and took a breath. Too many eyes on him. Outsourced or not, these were colleagues he'd worked with for over a decade.
"Sigh. Lighting director, this is a problem."
"S-sorry."
"We'll talk details privately. For now, full inspection across the board. Safety first, safety second. Everyone got that?"
"Yes, sir."
An awkward, heavy silence blanketed the set. Their responses were loud, but Jin Kyung-mun's intensity pinned them in place.
That's when Moo-young was first to pick up the scattered lighting debris.
"Should I clean this up?"
"Moo-young, I'll get it. Anyone seen the broom and dustpan?"
The stunned staff finally sprang into action. The icy tension thawed at the sound of Moo-young's voice.
"Still, we're lucky no one got hurt and we caught it in time. Proper exorcism done—now we just film our hearts out."
"Right? If not for Moo-young oppa, we'd all be goners—"
Yuna playfully slashed her throat with her hand.
"What if oppa hadn't seen the lighting shake?"
"Hm. Someone else would've."
"No way!"
The kid shot down his words flatly. Not wrong, though—even if everyone had glimpsed the shake, only Moo-young and the still photographer had verified it up close.
"Director. A word?"
Jin Kyung-mun nodded to the lighting director and turned. As he headed out of the warehouse, he lightly gripped Moo-young's shoulder.
"Good call anyway, Moo-young."
He didn't say it outright, but his eyes conveyed: You saved us from disaster.
"Huh? Nah, it was nothing."
"Assistant director! Wrap this up here."
As the two directors stepped out, Moo-young chatted with the staff while tidying up—Yuna glued to his waist like gum.
"Rushed the set build and hammered in the nails sloppy?"
"Shh. They'll hear."
"So what? Three days in and this? There's a limit."
A few staff muttered toward the lighting crew. The outsiders hovered awkwardly in the corner, their boss off with Jin Kyung-mun, leaving them adrift.
"But Moo-young, how'd you spot the lighting shaking?"
"Yeah, it was dark up there."
"If it'd fallen wrong, it could've hit someone passing below. Whew—headlines for sure."
The grumbling continued amid the disrupted workflow. The mounting tension, the smooth crank-up dreams—all shattered.
"Right, oppa was staring up the whole time."
Yuna's question made Moo-young pause.
"Actually—"
How to lighten the mood? Wanting to rally their slumped spirits, he recalled Na Geum-dong's words: See a ghost, strike it big.
"Kept seeing weird stuff."
"What?"
Everyone flinched at his reply, faces screaming Impossible.
He couldn't spill everything, but a vague spin might work.
"S-saw what?"
"Eek, scary. Don't joke."
A little embellishment. Not a total lie anyway.
"Stuff kept whooshing by, caught my eye. Thought it was a rat, but no."
"Rat's scary enough. Falling from the ceiling? Eek."
"Photographer, you snapped pics, right? Let's see."
"Pics? Oh, hold on."
The still photographer fiddled with his camera. Staff crowded around, craning necks.
What was that in the ceiling shot...?
"Gasp!"
"Eek!"
He sucked in a breath flipping through. Amid tangled wires against a white wall—three black dots.
"That's a face, right?"
"No way, for real? Eyes, nose, mouth."
"Lemme see."
"Whoa—"
They passed the photo, jumping in shock. Ghost! The one shaky light amid the steady ones, and now this eerie capture!
"Uh... hmm...?"
Moo-young tilted his head with a puzzled smile. Not the stray ghost he'd seen.
Just... smudges?
But the staff's mood flipped instantly.
"Ghost tipped us off. To keep us safe."
"Totally. Dodged a bullet."
"Whoa, epic. Day three and we're already blessed."
"Ghost sighting means big hit—ghost saving us? Mega jackpot! Haha!"
They buzzed, building on each other's hype. Moo-young watched quietly, stroking Yuna's head with a smile.
Yeah. Good is good.
So what if embellished? Results mattered! Plus, flower pollen sprinkling through the cracks confirmed this would bring luck.
The energized staff turned to him.
"Moo-young, you okay? Not scared?"
"Huh? Of what?"
"The ghost! You saw it! This guy?"
"Oh, right. Haha. But it's good, so I'll take it that way. Perfect timing for tomorrow's first shoot—like hitting the lottery."
His beaming smile sparkled. Handsome and this chill? Staff inwardly swooned.
"Oppa rocks—"
"Me too."
Yuna nuzzled his waist.
"Aigoo, Yuna. You'll smudge your makeup."
"But why's the director taking so long?"
"Lots to discuss probably. Assistant director! What's next after cleanup?"
"Yuna, over here. Makeup touch-up."
"Alright, everyone back to stations and stand by! Double-check safety in your areas like he said, and we'll reconfirm the schedule."
At the assistant director's call, staff mobilized again—chattering nonstop about the camera ghost.
"Got it!"
The "accident" morphed into an "omen of blockbuster success," blending seamlessly. The cramped set buzzed with far livelier energy than before.
"Huh? An accident?"
Meanwhile, Mongnett's producer jolted at Jin Kyung-mun's sudden call. How soon after filming started?
-Lucky no one hurt, but we can't let this slide.
He'd pulled him aside privately for face-saving. But look—alone, and the guy piled on complaints?
-It's not just regret; no sign of improvement. You know how much I care—this is my first with child actors.
They rushed installs to hit deadlines. Our rookie team's still in college, slipped up...
...That damn "seems like," "probably"! Zero accountability. How do you shove blame downstream?
-Can't trust 'em.
"You want a director swap? Whole staff too?"
Outsourced gigs meant swapping the whole crew from that company—apprentices following their lead.
"Look, I get your frustration a hundred times over. Shouldn't happen. Negligence, dereliction! But... you know how it is?"
Problems loomed.
One: Redo script analysis and meetings with new blood.
Two: Delays ballooning budget. They'd frontloaded to save cash—no room for this.
"Just overlook it this once..."
Jin Kyung-mun's sigh crackled through the line. Drop, drop. He paused, pondering.
-You're with Save Video, right? Lighting Director Lee Taek-kyeong's there.
Worked two projects together.
-Hormone Parasite and Your House—solid chemistry. Sharp, intuitive, gets the job done. Quit for family reasons...
"You want him?"
-Ask him. Swap just the director, keep staff—same company. And from those gigs, I know: he clicks with me, nails the vision like no one else.
-Even with transition time, he'd shorten it overall. Better than filming like this.
"Got it. You talk to the current director?"
-Nah, he doesn't know. Got frustrated mid-chat, hit the bathroom. Handle it with the company.
The Mongnett producer hung up politely. Hmm. Will it work? Doubtful they'd pull a retiree back.
"Ugh—"
He ruffled his hair, scrolling contacts. Save Video number. His finger trembled on call.
"Fine."
Jin Kyung-mun's complaint demanded action! Trembling, he dialed.
Beep. Jin Kyung-mun stubbed out his cigarette.
Why's he taking so long—
Moo-young poked his head out of the warehouse, searching. Jin Kyung-mun exhaled a sigh—and to Moo-young, flower pollen with it.
What? What happened?
The early-filming lighting director swap fiasco. The pollen signaled not just averting disaster, but that very shake-up.