Why Me?

Three days later, the Wanju Hinoki Cypress Forest.

They had planned to shoot there for a week, but the wrap came far earlier than anyone expected. No small part of it was a single lead who brought every scene to a close without one NG.

Lee Sua.

Thanks to her, the crew had their hands full with nothing but striking the equipment. Filming wasn't entirely finished, but what remained could be shot indoors without trouble, which meant there was no longer any reason to linger near the forest. The short film festival's submission deadline was closing in fast. Time was quite literally money, and everyone moved with crisp, practiced efficiency.

And in the middle of all that—

Clunk!

Seo Yeon-ju and Kim Seonil climbed side by side into a pitch-black van. Whatever had worn them down, both sank their full weight against the seats, let their eyes fall shut, and breathed out long sighs.

The driver studied the two of them and spoke.

"You've worked hard. Shall we head out right away?"

They only nodded.

Neither of them made a sound. Only the occasional tap of fingertips against an armrest suggested minds crowded with something to chew on. It was strange, once you thought about it. Most of Sword's crew still had indoor shoots ahead of them, but Seo Yeon-ju and Kim Seonil had nothing left on the schedule at all. Their scenes alone had been filmed first, in one concentrated block—the production's consideration for two people whose calendars were already packed. They stood high enough in the industry that courtesy of that kind was only to be expected.

So. All that remained was to leave with a light heart.

"…"

Even so, the two of them stayed sunk in thought. It wasn't that the shoot had worn them out. There hadn't been a single scene that was difficult for them, and the weather—as if heaven itself had taken their side—had been perfect for all three days.

The reason lay elsewhere.

The scenes they had shot with Lee Sua.

Seo Yeon-ju's final setup had been a scene caught on camera alongside Sua, and neither of them could forget it. That was the cause.

"Hand me the script."

"Hand me the script."

They said it at the same time, then nodded, each already knowing what the other was thinking. No reason to hesitate. Side by side, they looked the script over.

Looking at it again, it still wasn't a difficult scene. All Seo Yeon-ju had needed to do was show her master, Wi Ji-hye, how hurt she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠felt.

Except.

"…It's strange."

What Seo Yeon-ju had felt standing in front of the camera was truly complicated. She traced those impressions back, one by one.

"Hey, Seonil. Wasn't something different when I acted with Sua? Like I was putting more into it than usual. It wasn't nerves, though."

"No mistakes. If anything, you were better than usual."

"Right. That's exactly it."

Seo Yeon-ju said it as if she couldn't make it add up.

A head-to-head between Lee Sua and Seo Yeon-ju. They had both done well, so was it a draw? Really?

…No. At least Seo Yeon-ju didn't feel that way. Calling it a draw against a rookie was, in itself, badly off.

"Why, though? Why was I better than usual? I only acted the way I always do. It's not like I practiced that one scene any harder than the rest."

Even as she muttered it, she privately had a guess. Kim Seonil's single line made the guess certain.

"Lee Sua, most likely."

Seo Yeon-ju nodded. Right. The only reason she could think of was Sua.

It was like… Sua had a domain all her own.

Acting with her, Seo Yeon-ju had felt as if she were stepping into some space. A sense of being encouraged, and a surging exhilaration, both at once. It was deeply strange. She was the one who ought to have been guiding a nameless rookie—and even that might not have been enough—and yet she was the one who felt encouraged?

The chemistry was unnaturally good, and just being with her made inspiration rise. It wasn't like that on the other shoots. Only when it was Sua.

The difference had stood out sharply against the other scenes. Seo Yeon-ju was sure she had given every scene the same effort, and yet only the ones with Sua had been exceptional. The others weren't lacking, either. Director Park Joon and the crew had praised them without reserve, and she had even cross-checked it through Kim Seonil, of all people—her perpetual sparring partner.

And yet.

"Acting that's brilliant on its own, and acting that lifts the other person even while ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you're already brilliant… the gap is ridiculous."

Hearing herself say it, she felt it all over again. It didn't make sense.

How did she do it? She wasn't praising me. She wasn't giving advice. She just dyed the space, all by herself, until it became the world inside the script… Is this what a gift from heaven looks like?

Part of her had wanted to take Sua's measure again, but either way, Seo Yeon-ju had thrown herself in hoping to understand even a little more. And once they actually worked together, all she came away holding was an enormous question, and homework.

That was when Kim Seonil added a word.

"What surprised me most is that she can carry Wi Ji-hye while she's in the middle of Special Task Force 808. You know it too. Kim Yu-han and Wi Ji-hye are complete opposites."

"I know. What even is she? Actors usually avoid stacking roles if they can help it. If the feelings of two parts start to bleed together, it's a disaster."

"Like her personality just splits… If she isn't a monster, nothing is."

Monstrous skill, and inspiration besides, just from keeping her close.

Seo Yeon-ju reached her conclusion fast.

"Hey, Kim Seonil. You're not stopping here, are you?"

"Obviously not."

"Right? We're going to have to take overseas someday too. But if we keep Sua beside us, I think we can. Don't we grow a lot more every time we work with her?"

Just as Daoist adepts who chase power crave miraculous elixirs, people mad for acting crave inspiration. And Seo Yeon-ju and Kim Seonil had never seen an elixir that looked as potent as Sua.

One conclusion. She called CEO Kim Iseo on the spot.

Once the last of the packing was done, the Sword crew huddled together for a meal. This would be the last one they ate outdoors. Was it the few unexpected days they had bought themselves, or the fact that every scene they captured had come out better than expected? Probably both. Not a trace of worry showed on any face as they lifted their spoons.

Sua, of course, was alone in a corner.

…I'm alone again.

But she no longer sank into gloom the way she once had, branding herself the outcast. What she felt now was closer to delight. Right. She was the one icing the world out. Herself, eating while steeped in solitary atmosphere—pretty cool, wasn't it?

She was picturing a male lion dining in lonely dignity when—

"Aigoo, this is the only seat left…"

"Right? Guess we'll have to eat here."

"Nothing else for it."

The extras began claiming spots around Sua, one after another. Whenever their eyes met hers they glanced aside, as if they couldn't hold her gaze, but once they sat, none of them moved.

Sua said it evenly.

"…There are plenty of seats around, though?"

The Sword crew was eating outdoors. Anywhere you could sit counted as a seat. She couldn't understand why they were packing themselves in right beside her.

One of the extras cleared his throat only then.

"I'll be honest. Everyone sitting here wants to eat with you, Sua. We'd like to get closer, and if we could talk about this and that, that'd be nice."

They wanted to get closer? How long had it been since she'd heard something like that.

"…Do as you like."

Sua gave a short nod, pinching her lips tight in case her mouth split all the way to her ears. Even as she did, the extras kept gathering at her side. She was practically a human magnet.

"So everyone was over here? Ah—with the Mast. Figures. I'll eat here too, then."

"Aigoo, do you absolutely have to sit right here? We're dying of how cramped it is."

"Just bear it. When's a chance like this coming again…"

Noisy as it was, Sua didn't dislike the mood. It brought back the free acting she had done with Seo Yeon-ju. Back then there had been nothing but suspicious faces turned her way, but now every one of them glittered like a baby bird. Holding even harder—via Fourth Technique: Sua Rages—to an expression that read as angry, or perhaps simply indifferent, she caught on a phrase and asked.

"…Come to think of it, what's this 'mast' thing?"

"Haha! That'd be you, of course! Sword was a ship that looked ready to capsize at any moment, but now that you're serving as the mast, aren't we sailing along just fine?"

Sua pressed her lips together. Embarrassing. Hold it.

The extras paused their meals and piled on, one comment each.

"Sua, how do you sink into a role like that?"

"Yeah. Could you tell us your practice routine? We're rookies too, but the gap's so huge I can feel the wall…"

"Did you think up that ad-lib beforehand?"

Sua quietly raised one hand.

"…Enough. Enough."

At that, every one of them stopped the praise at once, looking as if they had made a mistake. Sua felt a jolt of regret. Why did they actually stop.

"Hahaha… We got a little too excited. We came to this set without expecting anything and ended up with such a heaven-sent chance."

"Tell me about it. So many things we never saw coming."

That was when—

"But… I don't see that person."

"Who?"

When Sua asked, the extra answered as if it were obvious.

"The one who played Yuheona. Every break, every time another scene was shooting, she was only ever looking at you."

"Right. I saw it too."

Sua was only curious. Why look at me?

"Awfully quiet, after all the trouble she caused. She stopped acting in the middle, didn't she? Without you, that scene would've been an automatic NG."

"Maybe she's circling around because she wants to apologize? She's got something to say, but she's too intimidated by you to come closer."

"Still—your acting back then, Sua. The more I think about it, the more incredible it gets."

Well. Soon enough Sua stopped thinking much of it. She had been thrown at the time, yes, but hadn't it all resolved in her favor in the end? Just like now, with everyone gathered around her.

So.

"I don't really care."

She meant it. And there was one thing more. Right now, something else occupied her far more—enough that even while she ate, her hands kept itching.

After the meal. The tent pitched to double as a waiting room.

Whoosh—!

Sua swung the prop sword at once. There was something she had wanted to test ever since she started eating. The motion was feather-light, and yet in the mirror it looked razor-sharp. Of course her strength hadn't actually grown, so she still couldn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cut something like a bundle of straw… but how to put it…

Choreography?

Right. Choreography. The movements. At the very least, motions that would look to anyone else like superb swordsmanship were already fully hers. Seen through a phone camera or a mirror, she could almost believe she was truly the greatest under heaven.

"Oh…?"

A shiver ran through her. Why am I this cool.

Come to think of it, when I first got the Special Privilege, too…

Her first experience had been a racing film called Speeding. Sua revisited the sensations left in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her body. Knowledge of driving; the feel of turning a wheel, working the accelerator and the brake—still vivid, as if her real flesh had learned them. She felt she could drive this very moment. Probably. Definitely.

…Don't tell me the experiences were even calibrating her actual body.

Really? Really? Then there's no genre I can't do?

A hypothesis that tingled just to imagine. Ah—adult films with bed scenes were excluded, of course. She couldn't even experience those.

Swish—! Swish—!

Sua started swinging even more excitedly. Sinking into the reverie took only a moment.

A barren battlefield. Sua faced the enemy alone as they closed in from every side, a baby rabbit cradled preciously in her arms. Formidable foes came at her and the rabbit from all directions, but she silently traced a sword-path near to perfect. One day, two, three… She fought straight through for three full days, and at last she won. When she finally carried the baby rabbit home to the Rabbit Kingdom, the Rabbit King and the Rabbit Queen dropped to their knees with tears streaming, and pressed their heads to the ground at her feet.

"Lady Sua! Please, take the Rabbit Kingdom into your care!"

"We can't go on without Lady Sua!"

Sua, of course, refused.

"I am the wind. I cannot remain in one place."

"You can't! Without you, we go extinct!"

"For the future of the Rabbit Kingdom, please…!"

"We'll offer every carrot we have!"

Haa. Then she would sigh, and accept as if she had no choice.

"Well. If I must. Only for a very little while…"

That was when—

"Lee Sua."

"…!"

Sua jolted. A yelp went off in her head—ack!—and the sword was already moving. A twist of the waist, a semicircular path: less than an instant.

Shing—!

An extremely brief moment. When she came back to herself, the edge of the blade was already at the other person's throat. They startled two beats late.

"Wh-whoa!"

Someone Sua knew. Son Jia, who played Yuheona. She threw both hands up in a hurry.

"I-it's me! Son Jia! I didn't come here to do anything weird!"

"…How long have you been there?"

"Since you started Wi Ji-hye's sword dance. I watched like I'd lost my soul."

In truth she had been swinging as guardian of the Rabbit Kingdom, not as Wi Ji-hye, but Sua just barely settled the blush climbing her face. Meanwhile Son Jia went on.

"Hey. You got any interest in stage work? Musicals, plays, that kind of thing. I really think you'd be stupid good at it. The way I see it, those aren't an ordinary actor's gestures."

"Say what you came to say."

Embarrassment had turned her voice far rougher than she meant.

"Uh—uh, yeah. Sorry."

Son Jia steadied her breathing, the way someone does before something important. Her face grew quite earnest at the same time.

"First, I want to say I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah. I stopped acting in the middle, so you had to fill the whole scene yourself. Your skill shocked me—really shocked me—but I was still in the wrong. I'll apologize, even this late."

Ah. Only then did Sua understand. Son Jia had suddenly done nothing, and Sua had been left to fill everything alone—the movements, the lines, all of it.

On purpose? So she didn't forget her lines?

Well. Maybe don't get angry.

It had turned out well for her, too. She was going to be a major actor. She had an image to look after. Hence, Zero Technique: Sua Humbles.

"Don't worry about it. You looked like you were lacking, so I did it."

Was there anything more heartwarming than the one who has plenty helping the one who doesn't? She had no idea why Son Jia's face had gone so visibly stiff.

Son Jia scratched her head.

"…Lacking. No, forget it. You're not wrong."

She nodded.

"Anyway, thanks for taking the apology. I came to thank you, too. The advice you gave me brought back my beginner's heart. From now on I won't forget it. I'm going to work hard."

"What advice?"

"You already knew all of it, didn't you? My situation. Where my head was at. But how the hell do you even do that? Advising me out of Wi Ji-hye's mouth. Now that is real free acting."

…?

For the moment, First Technique: Sua Understands.

"…Mm. You remembered it well."

"I haven't felt motivation like this in forever. My heart's actually racing. I've decided not to renew with CT Entertainment, and from here on I won't put my hands on any other methods. I'm just going to act, and I'm going to work at it."

First Technique: Sua Understands.

"Yeah. Sure."

"So, um. About that."

Son Jia hesitated. She stalled a long while, as if the next words wouldn't come, and then she suddenly folded at the waist—a full ninety degrees. It was the bearing of a plea among the most respectful in the world.

"Me! I want to start all over, and someday I want to act the way you do! Please! Be my acting master!"

"…Why me?"