The Trouble with Travel Companions
The filming here at the Namyangju set wrapped up with the shooting of the drama's final scenes.
Having successfully mined the gold mine for the imperial court, Lee Myeong secures a massive haul of gold ingots and begins transporting them to Hanyang.
Chaos erupting in the capital was only to be expected. But there was one problem—Lee Myeong's reputation, already high from before, had soared far too high.
Once his name carried more weight than the Emperor's own, the imperial court decides to eliminate him. They judge that Lee Myeong's heroic exploits are actually damaging the prestige of the Joseon throne.
Unable to recover from the bitter taste of being cast aside after his usefulness ended, Lee Myeong is urged by Violet to leave for America. And so the drama draws its curtain with Lee Myeong and Violet boarding a ship bound for the New World.
Sure, Lee Myeong had lived for the glory of the court and the prosperity of Joseon—but get hit with betrayal and the death of your lover back to back, and even the deepest loyalty is bound to cool.
With the story ending this way, I thought it gave Lee Myeong's journey to America a solid narrative foundation.
"In the original, it just ended with Bison Choi and Nam Seokho living large and happy."
Unlike the original, where a second season was unthinkable thanks to its miserable production conditions, this version—with Cheon Yua joining the cast—had a fairly high chance of getting a Season 2. That seemed to be why they'd left the ending open like this.
No, at this point they were practically announcing a second season outright. Of course, a lot would still depend on what kind of numbers this drama pulled in.
"The Taebaek set was finished faster than I expected. Since filming wrapped ahead of schedule, I figured we'd be on standby for a few days."
"I heard they rushed the construction after seeing how the shooting was going. The faster filming ends, the better."
There had been an incident on Moon Sooyeon's end midway through, but it hadn't affected the shooting schedule at all. More precisely, things had actually moved quite a bit faster than planned.
There were no holes in anyone's acting, so NG takes were almost nonexistent, which meant the production barreled right along. The staff, I hear, were quietly stunned. They said they'd never worked on a production where the entire cast and supporting actors were this laser-focused on the acting.
With the schedule pulled forward, the still-under-construction Taebaek set went into a frenzy of its own—but the production money saved by the shortened shooting days was funneled straight into accelerating construction. Thanks to that, we could move straight to Taebaek and film the remaining scenes.
Money really is money. They shaved a full two weeks off the construction schedule.
As we were leaving after the final day of shooting at Namyangju, Nam Hyunho sidled up next to me and dropped a loaded remark.
"Man, once we get to Taebaek, you and Cheon sunbaenim are gonna have a ton of two-shots. So? Does our resident madman feel confident?"
"Ah... right. Hmm. Well... I'll manage?"
He meant that the Taebaek shoot would be a different beast from Namyangju. Most of my scenes there had been with Moon Sooyeon. It wasn't that I'd shared no scenes with Cheon Yua—but those were mostly scenes where she held the spotlight.
But once we moved to Taebaek, a good number of two-shots would center on the two of us. The question was whether I could hold my own presence against Cheon Yua—the living top-star detector.
"Plus, most of the Taebaek shoot is action scenes."
The heavy action load was its own problem. Honestly, the action itself didn't worry me much—but memorizing blocking and executing it exactly as choreographed was genuinely exhausting work. It's not your body that gets tired on this job; it's your head.
Somehow, I had a feeling this shoot was not going to be easy. I just hoped the effort would come with good returns to match. Probably it would, right? This drama is going to be a massive hit, isn't it?
Even if the cast and story alike had changed so much it had become a completely different show. Still... it'll work out. Right?
The company was in full swing preparing for the business trip—this Taebaek expedition included not just me and Cheon Yua, but Yang Yuri as well.
And apparently our little tyke was tagging along to Taebaek too, causing a minor uproar. Having already delivered a fine performance as a child actor, Mijoo had firmly committed to this career path, and she'd latched onto Yang Yuri under the pretext of "broadening her eye" by observing her seniors at work. One more kid in the caravan wouldn't change anything, so the company just let it happen.
"You're staying at the lodging the production company arranged?"
"Aren't you doing the same, Siwoo?"
"I'm a rookie. No reason to make a fuss. But Yua sunbae is..."
"Even a hotel wouldn't exactly be quiet. Staying at the rented-out motel makes more sense—only production staff will be there."
"Fair point."
Taebaek is too far from Seoul for daily commutes to be realistic. For actors appearing in nearly every scene, like me and Cheon Yua, staying nearby was far more efficient than commuting from the city.
In my case, I'd decided to simply stay at the lodging the production company had rented for the staff—and Cheon Yua, who had a hotel booked for her separately, seemed to be planning to join us there as well. Her stated reason: as long as a hotel meant sharing the building with the general public, real peace and quiet would be out of the question...
"Like that'd actually be the issue. The production side would have everything handled, no question."
If she wanted it, adding one more room to the crew's lodging would hardly be difficult. Apparently they'd prepared generously, with enough rooms that even supporting and bit-part actors could stay there.
At the end of the day, if Cheon Yua wanted in, she was going to get in.
"But... why is Sooyeon sunbae insisting on coming along?"
"What, and stay behind all by myself?"
"...Don't you have your own work? You've got an album to prepare."
"Exactly. Wouldn't it be better for Moon Sooyeon to just show up on her own filming days?"
I had no intention of stopping Cheon Yua if that's what she wanted for herself—but Moon Sooyeon joining the Taebaek expedition with no filming schedule of her own was a bit of a surprise.
To be fair, resting was the most important thing for this woman right now too. Five music-production staff from Mun Entertainment had just transferred over, and she was riding high on plans to pump out music worthy of the Luna name.
So what happens to the music if she ups and disappears like this? We'd carved out all this time specifically for her to rest and work on tracks at her own pace, and now she wanted to tag along to a filming set.
No wonder Cheon Yua was giving her the side eye.
"...The OST."
"The OST?"
"That's why I'm going. You assigned the OST to me, remember? I thought I'd try to find some inspiration on set."
"Ah, well, if that's the reason..."
"Then she should come~ Our songstress Moon! Wonderful~"
When Moon Sooyeon first joined our drama, Yang Yuri had planned to lean heavily on her for the OST. The production company had treated it as an unexpected windfall—an OST sung by Luna herself, of all people.
But Mun Entertainment had been hostile to her joining the drama, and the OST became a pipe dream. With things in limbo, Phoenix prepared one separately.
The only issue on this side was that while the male—the Lee Myeong—OST had been tentatively locked in with Geo, the lead vocalist of the powerhouse idol group Nuclear featuring Rion, they hadn't been able to find anyone for the female side.
They'd been in talks with several songstresses famous for their skill, but none had managed to win Yang Yuri's heart. The Violet OST had, after much back-and-forth, landed a well-known female singer, but Yang Yuri kept refusing on the Wolhee and main OSTs, leaving things deadlocked.
She had modeled Wolhee's character on Luna's "Nakyueol" to begin with and designed everything around Luna—so it made sense that she simply couldn't accept another singer's voice.
And so, with the OST discussions dragging on day after day, the situation shifted. Once she joined our company, the obstacles fell away, and she decided she'd rather sing the OST herself—which is how the job landed in her lap.
"Nakyueol," the basis for Wolhee, was already locked in for Wolhee's OST, leaving only the main OST—and it seemed that was her excuse for attaching herself to this shoot.
Yang Yuri, a true believer in Luna's vocal prowess, naturally welcomed her with both hands raised.
"Something's off about you, Moon Sooyeon. You never do this sort of thing."
"...What's that supposed to mean?"
"A location scout? I heard you're not the type to find inspiration that way."
"...Even I need a change of scenery sometimes."
"You should be going to the hospital, but you insist on coming all the way to Taebaek?"
"The hospital's only twice a week."
But cool-headed Cheon Yua pinpointed her weak spot exactly. Moon Sooyeon had said as much in an interview once—that inspiration for a song came not from seeing things with your own eyes, but from imagination and feeling.
So suddenly claiming she needed an on-site visit for inspiration? Even I could tell that was odd.
"Besides, this is the shoot Mijoo's coming to as well, isn't it? Someone needs to look after her."
This excuse was even flimsier than the inspiration one. Our little tyke is one of the most popular people at the company—and every single guard coming along to escort Cheon Yua this time is a devoted Mijoo fan.
There was zero chance that Mijoo's care would suffer from Moon Sooyeon's absence. Judging by how absurd her excuses were getting, Moon Sooyeon was absolutely determined to worm her way onto this set.
"...Fine. Understood. Follow all on-set regulations. And don't go anywhere without your manager."
"You could have said yes from the start. I'll be sweet and well-behaved, so don't worry."
There was no real reason to bar anyone from joining a filming set if they wanted to. Her excuse was flimsy, but "for the sake of the OST" wasn't exactly an invalid reason either.
In the end, even Cheon Yua couldn't stop Moon Sooyeon from joining the Taebaek expedition.
"So Sooyeon sunbae is staying at that motel too?"
"What, should I sleep somewhere alone? Siwoo, you're more spiteful than you look."
"...Who's being spiteful?"
But seriously—why on earth did this woman climb into my van? Her own van was still a while out, sure, but obviously she should have ridden with Cheon Yua's.
And now she was sitting directly across from me, legs crossed, staring at me unblinkingly. What was this even supposed to be?
What made the whole situation even more ridiculous was that Ju Seo-jin, the coordinator who'd be working this shoot and sharing the lodging with us, was watching every move between me and Moon Sooyeon with the eyes of a hawk.
No, I'm not exaggerating—an actual hawk's eyes.
Normally, when you ride in a car for a long trip, you spend most of it on your smartphone, right? But neither Moon Sooyeon nor Ju Seo-jin so much as glanced at their phones. They just stared at me.
I felt like I was being subjected to some kind of humiliation play. I'd braced myself for this shoot to be difficult, sure.
But I never imagined I'd be this exhausted before filming had even begun.