Violent Grief by the Grave

The ride to Taebaek continued in an atmosphere like sitting on a bed of nails. Who knew a silence this suffocating could be conjured up with nothing but glares and not a single word spoken. What on earth was this.

"Good grief, I nearly passed out."

The moment we arrived in Taebaek, I bolted from the car straight toward the film set. Lingering around any longer seemed like a good way to end up on someone's bad side.

Moon Sooyeon being a little strange was one thing, but I never imagined Coordinator Ju Seojin of all people would act like that. Normally she was a woman of few words who quietly did her job, our coordinator.

"I honestly can't tell what's what anymore."

Some might argue that between an actor and a coordinator, the actor is obviously the one in charge — so what's all the fuss about? But it's not like that. Because our Coordinator Ju Seojin happens to be CEO Ju's own daughter.

She wasn't exactly trying to hide it, either — most of the company already knew. And while at Flame, Cheon Yua's influence runs stronger than CEO Ju's, Coordinator Ju Seojin is Cheon Yua's person from the very start. Meaning a lowly actor like me had better tread carefully.

That goes double for moments like today, when our usually demure coordinator suddenly bares her fangs and I can't even begin to guess why. I have no idea what triggered it, but until I find out, I'd better refrain from letting Moon Sooyeon ride in our van. From now on, she gets shipped off to Cheon Yua's van. Simple.

"You said it was built in a hurry, but it looks pretty decent."

"This set was prepared for our drama from the beginning. Everything's in place right down to where the CG effects go, so things should be a little easier here."

"Must be nice, being comfortable."

"You'd like that too, being uncomfortable. Me, I'll just sit on the sidelines popping popcorn and watching whether our resident madman has what it takes to be a top star."

"Oh, how very kind of you. Much obliged."

I was still touring the set, thinking I'd let my nerves settle a bit, when Nam Hyunho (handsome madman) sidled up to me. Apparently he'd come down to inspect the set too. The man had no shoot today, yet he deigned to make the trip all the way out here.

Had he not kept tacking on those absurd little jabs, he'd have looked like a remarkably upstanding actor. Don't tell me — is this guy here to watch me turn into a fumbling mess next to a fully committed Cheon Yua? The only one I felt sorry for was his manager, rubbing his eyes wearily behind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him. Hauled all the way out to the middle of nowhere on his day off, of all things.

"Alright, everyone, we have a lot to shoot today. Let's move quickly."

If there's one place where time is money, it's a film set. The moment the cameras are ready, you roll — that's the ironclad rule of this business. Having just arrived in Taebaek, I still couldn't dodge the shoot.

Director Bang, dead serious about compressing the shooting schedule, started pushing the actors the instant they were in position.

"You do know this scene hinges on emotional acting, right? I'll trust your interpretations and we'll go straight in."

The first scene to be shot on this set came right after Wolhee's death. It's the scene where Violet consoles Lee Myung, who stands dazed before her grave. Honestly, reading the dialogue alone, I had my doubts this was truly consolation — but both Yang Yuri and Cheon Yua insisted it was, so I suppose the two of them know best. Besides, I was curious myself how Cheon Yua would play this part.

"Good. And... GO!"

A humble burial ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mound. A weathered headstone. Only the inscription Lee Myung carved with his own hands honors the woman sleeping beneath.

And Lee Myung, who had built this tomb for her, stood with a grief-stricken face, stroking nothing but the headstone.

Violet, pressed for time and bound elsewhere, understood his heart — and at the same time, understood it not at all. Because the kind of mourning Violet had in mind looked nothing like this.

-Myung. Are you planning to stay like this forever? Even now the survey team is waiting for you to come down.

-I don't know.

-Unbelievable. So what, you're just going to leave that gold mine sitting there?

Lee Myung only stared at the grave with hollow eyes. Violet heaved a sigh and dropped down to sit beside him.

-Myung, my family was blessed once. Quite a blessed household.

-Was it?

-Right up until Ma got dragged off by bandits.

-And the very next year, Pa got dragged off by bandits too. Life's a real garbage fire, isn't it.

-...That is unfortunate.

Griping that when bandits take you, not even your corpse comes home, Violet began laying out her old story to Lee Myung all over again. And he simply listened to her half-petulant rambling, dead to the world.

-Never knew who they were, never knew where they went. There was nothing I could do. The grudge cuts deep, but you need to know something before you can take revenge. What gang took them, where, how they died — I couldn't learn a single damn thing.

-But you're different, aren't you?

-You know exactly which son-of-a-bitches did this. And here you are, sprawled in the dirt? What exactly do you call that?

-In this country, they say you pour out a drink to honor the dead, is that it?

-Then snap the heads off those rotten, f—ing bastards and send them to comfort your woman's soul.

It was this exact moment that focus finally returned to the empty eyes of Lee Myung, who had listened in silence. The moment Violet told him to comfort her soul.

-Comfort. Yes. Comfort. How lonely must she be, lying in that cold ground all alone. And she was a woman who couldn't bear loneliness if her life depended on it.

-Right, then. Let's send her plenty of friends, so she won't be lonely by herself at the Master's side.

Even now, Lee Myung could not understand why she had to die. What right the Japanese Empire thought it had to seize the Unsan Gold Mine. Why she could never bring herself to confess that truth to him. But one thing, and one thing only, he knew for certain: there would be a great many people who owed blood for this. Just as Violet said — for the woman who would walk the road to the afterlife alone and lonely, they ought to send her as many friends as possible.

-But then, how did you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠comfort your parents' spirits? Didn't you say you never learned who your enemies were?

-Ah, that's the simple part.

Killing intent brimming in her eyes, Violet rapped the case slung across her back twice — tap, tap — a smile blooming with mockery.

-Kill every last one of them. Send the whole bandit gang to the Master's side, and one of them is bound to be the one. Simple as that.

"OK. Beautiful."

Director Bang called the cut and let out a gasp of admiration as he reviewed the footage. "Wow. This is really..."

An exclamation burst out of me as well — though of a fundamentally different flavor than the director's.

"...This is brutal."

On paper, the scene was nothing special. Two people talking in front of a grave — as simple a structure as it gets. The problem was that this woman's emotional swings were absurdly steep.

The wistful warmth of recalling a brief, happy past snaps in an instant into fury at the bandits. That blazing rage and pent-up resentment drowns in helplessness the moment she remembers her enemy can never be repaid in kind. Even as she watches Lee Myung's state with contempt, she genuinely envies him — because he at least can take just revenge.

And yet without any dramatic shift in expression, the emotions came through with startling clarity through dialogue and atmosphere alone. "And then that bit at the end..."

Especially when she spoke of sending hundreds, thousands of bandits to the Master's side for her parents' revenge, an unrestrained killing aura practically writhed off the screen. If they framed that moment in a close-up, it would genuinely raise the hair on your neck. Director Bang was no stranger to that kind of instinct, so of course the scene would go in as a close-up.

"So this is the real Cheon Yua."

Devouring a scene whole was something this woman did like an art form. Even with all of Nam Hyunho's frantic warnings to brace myself, I still hadn't been prepared for this.

"How was it?"

"Excellent. Truly excellent."

"Yeah?"

While Cheon Yua and Director Bang reviewed the take, I watched it over their shoulders. And I had no choice but to conclude: we needed to shoot it again. Lee Myung's emotion runs in a deep, unbroken current of futility from start to finish — and only in the final moment do fury, resentment, and resolve wake up. But in the middle stretches, I kept getting knocked off-balance, dragged along by Violet's emotions. Sure, depending on the direction, that could be made to fit — but it wasn't the Lee Myung I wanted.

"You want to take it again?"

"Yes. Let's go once more."

And so I voluntarily requested not one but two retakes — the first of their kind during this entire production.

"...Cheon Yua is straight-up cheating."

Once today's shoot wrapped, the one thought ringing in my head was: Cheon Yua is cheating. Well, to be precise, it was Violet, as played by Cheon Yua, who cheats.

At her core, Violet is a character who radiates, with every fiber of her being, that she is the true lunatic of this story — a role about as far from Cheon Yua's usual self as it gets. Practically the polar opposite: Violet detonates every emotion without a filter, while Cheon Yua is calm, composed, and aloof. So the uncanny sync between the two comes down to nothing less than her sheer acting talent.

But the character of Violet has way too much presence. Cheon Yua is already a presence-monster who vacuums up every eye in the room like some industrial-grade vacuum cleaner. And however steampunk you want to get, a blonde, blue-eyed character in a Joseon-era setting is frankly overpowered. Add on a violet blouse, positively criminal hot pants, and even a gatling gun, and...

In this drama, Violet is best described as a smear of yellow paint slapped dead center on an otherwise all-black ink wash painting. A character who blazes with presence just standing still. Then you layer Cheon Yua's signature aura and acting ability on top of that...

"Yeah. Every scene belongs to her, doesn't it."

Look, Lee Myung is a distinctive character in his own right, but unless I want the back half of this drama to feel like a Cheon Yua solo feature, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠situation demands I raise my game beyond where I am now. That push for more is exactly why today's scene went through two retakes.

Truthfully, I'd believed that if I set my mind to it, I wouldn't lose to anyone on presence — but this was a bit...

"Whoa. Madman. You... you're actually pretty good. This senior gives you his sincere compliments."

And then there's that damn madman cackling away beside me, having the time of his life. Deeply annoying.

Still, even then, I had not the faintest inkling of one simple truth: that the fatigue from filming was, in the end, absolutely nothing at all.