The Flirty Scene
‘Hmm, nice. The art style matches.’
A pure, innocent vibe from the two leads. Ha Moo-young and Song A stood facing each other, gazing at the camera. A perfectly satisfying visual! The band styling would alter it a bit, but the core image they projected was spot-on.
‘Especially Ha Moo-young.’
Do Ha came off as intense and strict on the surface, the unrivaled king of heaven and earth. But deep down, he was a total fourth-dimensional weirdo—clumsy, full of slip-ups. How did it fit him so perfectly, like it was made for him?
“Shall we try the lines together?”
“Ah! Sure!”
While Song A cleared her throat nervously, Ha Moo-young skimmed through the script in one fluid motion and set it down. Should she do the same? As Song A hesitated, glancing at him, Ha Moo-young wiggled his ten fingers lightly.
“As a guitarist, you’ve got the fingers for it.”
“Guess so? This scene relies on you to support, but it’s focused on Do Ha anyway. No need to overthink it.”
“Got it.”
Song A would get her own camera test later. With the PD’s encouragement, she took a quick breath. But as she tried to grasp the script...
‘Whoa. Seriously?’
It was a bit much for a scene with someone she’d just met. Do Ha and Mi Ran were flirting sweetly, confirming their feelings for each other.
Song A stole a glance at Ha Moo-young.
“By the way, writer-nim. Is there any specific direction for the ‘playing with fingers’ part here?”
Unlike the tense Song A, Ha Moo-young was laser-focused on analyzing the script. As if the line between acting and reality was crystal clear to him.
[#41. Park Bench]
[Do Ha and Mi Ran after their street performance. Mi Ran sits across from him, treating his torn fingers. Do Ha stares intently at her, then plays with her fingers.]
The writer shrugged awkwardly at his question.
“Honestly, I’m still figuring it out. I had some ideas, but they didn’t feel right when I wrote them down.”
Even if she imagined it while scripting, bringing it to life was the actors’ job. She’d agonized over it, but couldn’t pin down the execution.
“It’s an important moment.”
The first time they confirmed their feelings. That’s why she’d been delaying and approaching it cautiously. Now that the actors were set, she wanted his input.
“Let’s try a few versions then.”
Ha Moo-young stretched his fingers and neck lightly, smiling. The date scene between Do Ha and Mi Ran played vividly in his mind.
The writer smiled back encouragingly.
“Camera’s set.”
“Ready to go?”
“Yeah. Ready—and action.”
Ha Moo-young extended his hand to Song A. Her fingertips hesitated shyly. Her face flushed red as an apple, but her expression stayed haughty and composed.
‘Wow. Amazing.’
Ro Min, watching breathlessly, was in awe. Was she thinking something naughty? How did a face turn that red in an instant?
“Blow on it.”
“Blow? What am I, a kid?”
Song A fumbled between the script and grabbing his fingers. Even watching her flustered state, Ha Moo-young stayed perfectly focused. Ro Min felt like she was watching a play.
“Blow on it quick~”
Ro Min clapped a hand over her mouth at Ha Moo-young’s whiny tone. Ugh! Seriously! She’d seen every aegyo trick from her teammates during idol activities. Not just her—Pyo Rai and Seo Jeong-mun too.
‘Oh my god.’
‘His aegyo is so natural. Is that how he is in real relationships?’
His delivery dripped with charm that even pros would envy.
Song A’s voice trembled sweetly as she delivered her line.
“Hold on. Ugh, you little—hoo!”
But she nailed the next one calmly. She’d been pretty pleased with herself—until her eyes met his.
Thump!
Her heart dropped. That intense gaze! Anyone could see it screamed longing for love. Her mind went blank, mouth agape.
“...!”
Ha Moo-young grabbed her pale wrist. Then twisted it naturally, like a guitar neck.
Startled, Song A tensed, veins bulging.
“Mm. Mm-mm-mm. Hm.”
Ha Moo-young grinned wide and began tickling it gently. Slowly, like plucking guitar strings. With the humming added, it felt like real playing.
‘Playing your lover?’
The ultimate romantic guitarist! The PD grinned intriguingly at the writer, who was utterly entranced. She seemed blown away by the unexpected motion.
“You know.”
And then the confession.
“Sometimes when I hear your singing, it feels like I’m the only one left in the world. All white and sparkling, my strength draining so much I can’t even hold the guitar strings.”
The vocalist and guitarist of Merrill Kellin’s meeting. Song A swallowed hard and continued.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ha Moo-young gently gripped her wrist. Then flashed the haughtiest, most lovable smile—like, how could you not fall for me on a day like this?
“It means it’s too good. You’re too good, so stay by my side and keep singing for me.”
“Kyaa—cut!”
The manager, holding back during Ha Moo-young’s killer line, finally burst out. Groans erupted.
“Manager-nim!”
“How could you cut there? It was perfect.”
“I couldn’t help it, aigoo. Sorry! My bad!”
The manager raised his hands in apology. But no big deal—the scene was nearly done anyway.
Ha Moo-young smiled brightly and released Song A’s wrist.
“It’s fine. What’d you think? That was my take on the ‘finger play.’”
What’d they think?! This was the manager who’d pushed hard for Gu-ryong during casting. They’d been at an impasse. But he’d dropped out over the tattoos. And now this came from his mouth.
“Damn, that was insane.”
The writer had envisioned Mi Ran just fiddling with his fingers during treatment. At most, twirling her hair.
“Never saw that coming.”
I’m using this, the writer vowed inwardly. Inspiration blazed from that scene.
Ha Moo-young, sensing it, smiled.
“Glad to hear it.”
“But at the audition, you said you’ve never dated. That true? It felt way too natural.”
Maybe he was a “talking but no dating” type? He’d been out drinking with Daryeong recently too. There’d been some noise about it.
Song A and Pyo Rai whipped around to stare at Ha Moo-young in shock.
“Nah, no way.”
A handsome guy in the industry? Exaggerating a bit, but they’d never heard of such a thing.
Ha Moo-young scratched his nose sheepishly at their reactions.
“It’s true, though.”
“...Whoa.”
Insane. Then where’d that chemistry come from? Didn’t you need a base to build on?
In the chaotic vibe, Lee Yu-jin PD clapped to refocus everyone.
“Alright, short break, then we keep going.”
Just Ha Moo-young’s solo take had drained them all. This was commanding presence—devouring people whole.
“Oh, right. Ro Min-ssi, heard about it?”
“About what?”
He paused mid-sip.
“The OST recording.”
“Ah, yeah. Coordinating with Si-won hyung.”
Regular dramas didn’t need OSTs this fast—they added them in editing. But in You Are a Star, I Am a Star, the characters’ songs were the OST.
“Two tracks are almost done, right?”
Some had been prepped since planning. They’d even tweaked lines to fit the lyrics.
“Wait, so I’m recording too?”
Ha Moo-young, listening quietly, raised his hand.
Yu-jin and Ro Min shot him duh looks.
“Whoa, my first recording ever.”
“...Figured. Hyung, you’ll need some studio magic.”
Ro Min muttered, knowing Ha Moo-young’s raw singing skills. Five members, one song each. All idols, so no huge worries—but
“Hehe. This’ll be epic.”
That guy giggling to himself? Total worry.
After the break, camera tests for the other roles continued.
“Ready? Ready, action!”
Idol backgrounds and first acting gigs, but they held up well. Ha Moo-young memorized each one’s style, jotting notes.
‘What’re you writing?’
Ro Min mouthed silently, peeking over.
Detailed lists of their acting habits.
‘Jotting it down for now.’
Habits weren’t great in acting. You needed fresh, perfect starts each role, like a blank canvas. But...
‘Habits create consistency. If the character’s different but the delivery’s the same, it’s trouble.’
Song A’s hair-flipping tic, Pyo Rai’s pauses between lines, Seo Jeong-mun’s constant nose-sniffing from allergies, and more.
‘If they’re cool with it, I’ll share.’
Coaching or meddling? Up to them. If it didn’t rub them wrong, he’d help anytime.
“Hyuuung—”
Ro Min, touched, headbutted his shoulder. How could anyone be this nice? No wonder Enbin stuck to him like glue.
“Alright, that’s a wrap!”
Camera tests done, managers filed in. Thought it was over? Nope—just starting.
“Poster shoot next week. Casting confirmed article this week—probably Gokuk Ilbo first. Any issues?”
“All good.”
“Great. Album first, so schedule around availability? Who’s free now?”
“Me? Fan meetings all next week.”
“I’m off to China for Hell Camp variety.”
“Year-end concert soon.”
They synced schedules, pushing things back. Ha Moo-young just stood blankly, listening.
All eyes turned to him.
“Me? Unemployed.”
He beamed, hand raised. Facts were facts.
“Ha Moo-young-ssi first for recording then. Production will contact you separately. Composers are split—two handling it...”
One was Zero Team’s Si-won. Ha Moo-young nodded—anyone was fine.
“Let me know when it’s set.”
“Album order: Moo-young, Song A, Seo Jeong-mun, Ro Min, Pyo Rai?”
Nods of approval all around. Meeting dragged on with nitty-gritty details. More prep than expected.
“Gotta head out.”
“Wrap here? Rest via managers.”
“Group chat for actors too!”
“Nice.”
Nearly an hour later, everyone rose for schedules. Ha Moo-young shrugged at Go Kyung-min.
“Why so chipper?”
“New project—how could I not be? Too good!”
Ha Moo-young couldn’t contain his hype. But weird?
“Hyung, why no move?”
“We’ve got more.”
“What?”
Everyone left, Ha Moo-young alone in the room. Ro Min waved from the door.
“The contract.”
The production manager plopped the file down. Tests done, schedule set—official now.
“You’re really our drama lead now.”
One fact flashed in Ha Moo-young’s mind: Dramas paid per episode... unlike films?