Unlocking the Backstory
With just two weeks left until the performance, she still couldn't find the right feel for how to act the role.... The character's emotional arc didn't make sense to her.... She couldn't bring herself to confide these worries to her teammates—her pride as an actress wouldn't allow it. And to be even more honest, Lee Kang-sik was such a senior heavyweight that asking him for acting advice felt daunting. She worried she might even disrupt his practice by approaching him.
She'd already leaned on Choi Yeong-do far too much in the past. He was the one who'd given her the courage to act again. She couldn't keep depending on him like that. Gratitude had given way to guilt.
Yang Hyo-je and Bae Su-jeong were rookies making their debut on this stage. They had their own roles to nail—how could she just barge in and whine?
So, even though it was her first theater production, she desperately wanted advice from Woojin, who seemed superior in every way: skill, track record, everything. His internal audition performance alone showed how meticulously analytical he was as an actor.
She just hadn't found the right moment. But then...
"...When I was in a similar situation myself, I actually had the exact opposite experience from what Suyeong feels."
Myeong Se-hui wiped her still-damp eyes and continued. Now, she wanted to lay it all out and brainstorm solutions together. Overthinking it alone would just leave her with lingering unease on stage. Better to ask for advice openly and clear the air. We're a team, after all.
So she began sharing the stories she'd kept bottled up—stories about her past that she'd heard from Senior Choi Yeong-do.
The A Team actors, sitting in a circle on the practice room floor, listened quietly.
"Being alone in the hospital room was really lonely. I never told my parents. They still don't know."
"Whoa."
"It was heartbreaking enough to be hurt, but no one even came to visit."
"How did you get through it?"
Woojin asked. He already knew from the morning conversation, but he wanted to hear it straight from her.
Myeong Se-hui smiled faintly and went on.
"Yeongdo oppa came to the hospital every day. Then, at some point, he was practically clocking in at my room."
Choi Yeong-do, sitting beside her, scratched his head sheepishly, his gaze fixed awkwardly on the floor.
"So sweet...."
"Senior's a total tsundere!"
The young twenties duo, Bae Su-jeong and Yang Hyo-je, chimed in.
Choi Yeong-do waved his hands embarrassedly—whoosh whoosh.
Then Lee Kang-sik dropped a heavy bomb(?).
"Makes me nostalgic."
"Why, Senior?"
"Watching actors secretly date on the sly is secretly fun. Like those two right now."
"......!"
"S-Senior!"
"I see everything—don't even think about hiding it here!"
At Lee Kang-sik's teasing jab, Choi Yeong-do and Myeong Se-hui shot to their feet in unison. Their flustered faces were comically obvious.
Puhahaha! Laughter bloomed.
"I can't even...."
Myeong Se-hui pouted as she plopped back down. Choi Yeong-do glanced at her and followed suit.
"It's still... a secret...."
Woojin immediately shifted his gaze to Lee Kang-sik's face. The senior's expression said it all: 'With just your word?'
...Looks like those two got properly caught by the mischievous prankster.
* * *
Which actor isn't like that, really. For Myeong Se-hui, acting was life, and being an actress her true calling. She'd always dreamed of living and dying on stage.
So the sense of loss and despair from facing a crisis where she might have to give it up must have been indescribable.
Thank goodness for Choi Yeong-do—he'd helped her overcome it all and return to the stage.
With that experience, she said, "Just as Yeongdo oppa was my strength, for the young ones, the older sister figure should be their pillar."
"Right."
"Yeongdo oppa wanted me to get back to people and work as soon as possible. If I'd been in his shoes, I'd have felt the same."
The conversation, briefly focused on the couple's secret romance, naturally shifted back to the play.
"But Suyeong isn't like that. She doesn't want her brother connecting with anyone. If that wish stayed just a wish, fine—but she acts on it. I just can't understand that part. Does Suyeong really not know it only makes her brother more isolated and pained?"
It was a deep dilemma. The script's scenario mirrored her real-life experience in texture.
But since the picture diverged from reality, the emotional disconnect arose.
If even the actress meant to grasp and embody the character's feelings best hadn't fully understood it yet, how could genuine acting emerge?
The overall ensemble was solid, but the chemistry with Myeong Se-hui specifically wasn't clicking—the cause was now clear.
Directors and writers see the big picture. For acting details and chemistry between performers, the experts are the actors themselves.
So now, the actors needed to huddle and puzzle it out.
"What backstory have you set for Suyeong, Senior?"
The voice broke the audience's thoughtful silence as Myeong Se-hui poured out her worries. It was Woojin.
Myeong Se-hui paused, pondering deeply.
"I love Senior's acting, of course. There's a slight tonal mismatch, but it's so subtle it could pass without issue. Still, I don't think it's just a voice problem."
"Then?"
"I couldn't see the character's backstory in Senior's performance. That's why I'm asking. I'm curious about the settings you've made for the parts not in the script."
Woojin's voice was low, but the content was quite sensitive. Debating the play's direction or overall intent was fine.
But his words pointed directly at personal acting choices.
Questioning backstory settings touched on individual analysis, which was tantamount to critiquing acting style.
And advising a senior—neither a junior nor a friend—on acting was an extremely delicate matter.
Yet Woojin spoke plainly, expression calm. It was necessary, something someone had to say.
Above all, Myeong Se-hui's earnest desire to recapture her feel resonated with him. He was confident she wouldn't take it badly.
"I see...."
Myeong Se-hui let out a soft sigh at Woojin's words. She nodded slowly, murmuring.
"You're right, Woojin. I didn't think deeply about the backstory. That's the missing piece."
"Are you feeling anxious?"
"Huh...?"
Woojin met her eyes steadily, unflinching. What was that gaze? It felt like he knew exactly her mood, her state.
Myeong Se-hui faltered. Thinking back, Woojin had been spot-on from the start. It put her mind at ease.
"Honestly, less anxious than... jittery? Restless?"
It had intensified since week two. This comeback role was hugely important on its own, and teaming with heavyweights like Lee Kang-sik and Baek Woojin made her burn to excel, to hear praise soon.
"Yeongdo Senior told me about Equus. You built the character's past slowly from the start. Even had the nickname 'Slow Starter.'"
"...Oppa, you really spilled everything while I was gone?"
Myeong Se-hui shot Choi Yeong-do a glare. He cleared his throat, feigning nonchalance.
She turned back to Woojin.
"Yeah. Back then... I focused solely on Mason's past until the start of Act 1, Scene 1. That's my style—diving deep into the 'past.'"
"Stick to your usual method. Just my opinion, but Saw the Pheasant? has tons of subtext. Prioritizing backstory—the character's off-script life—feels most urgent. I think that's what you need, Senior."
Woojin finished and looked to Lee Kang-sik.
"What do you think, Senior?"
"Me? Pretty much what you said."
Lee Kang-sik shifted position. Eyes turned to him.
"Like I told Woojin, I had no intention of critiquing you juniors' acting even once. This show's stars are the Actor's Yard members—Woojin and I are just helpers."
Lee Kang-sik's words humbled him further.
"Thanks to our Se-hui sharing her acting struggles, we've finally got a proper team huddle. Helping a junior who asks? That's just common sense."
His deep, steady voice added a gentle preface to ease any intimidation.
Then his sharp insight pierced their ears.
"As Woojin says, practicing like this is pointless. Even slight misalignments will persist. We need solid backstories. So..."
Gulp. Myeong Se-hui swallowed dryly.
In that moment, "How about we all camp out in the practice room tonight?"
Lee Kang-sik grinned broadly.
"Sounds good!"
"An honor, Senior!"
"Let's talk the play all night!"
Everyone clapped in agreement. For one, five chose to stay.
Myeong Se-hui owed them another heartfelt thanks. Suddenly, not just her but everyone freely shared their acting directions. A Team's first campout was unexpected.
* * *
From that day on, Myeong Se-hui's acting changed noticeably. That's acting—a paper-thin difference.
The subtle shift was clear enough that "It's really good now, Senior!" "What happened overnight?" Director Oh Tae-hyeop and playwright Ma Seol-ah kept asking.
Even to Woojin, Senior Myeong Se-hui now acted with conviction.
Before, she'd relied on personal experience over analysis, lacking justification. Her situation was similar, not identical—and even if identical, she was Hyeongjun's side, not Suyeong's.
Now, she embodied a firm backstory and its precise emotions.
And rightly so. Myeong Se-hui was like a ship that gripped the helm right from the start, sailing strong. A temporary setback from unavoidable circumstances had merely lowered her sails briefly.
New sails up, her compass was clear. Her feel was back.
"A Team, let's run a full stage rehearsal right away!"
Oh Tae-hyeop's upbeat voice brought smiles to the whole team.