The Eunuch's Forbidden Whisper
With the concerns over the newly added scene resolved, filming for Red Petals surged forward without a hitch. In the meantime, the new year of 2011, the Year of the Rabbit, dawned—but the set showed no signs of change. It brimmed with the same fiery passion as always. Even after the calendar flipped, the entire cast poured everything into the shoot. And just like that, a month passed, then two. Time flew by. They'd entered the Mun Kyung-sae Open Set back in November of the previous year, and excluding that surprise break midway through, they'd already spent over four months here.
During that time, “……” just in case, he'd flip open the Diary the moment he got back to his lodgings after wrap, scribble down questions, things like that. But since that first encounter, the virtual world hadn't opened even once.
'Well, it'll work out somehow.' The movie was nearing its finale anyway, leaving no room to fret over the virtual world. All Woojin did was slip on the jade ring he'd been given before every take. He trusted that as long as he stayed relaxed and focused solely on his acting, everything would fall into place—and so he poured every ounce of his attention, the kind usually reserved for the Diary, straight into his performance.
And then, one day in February, the long-awaited moment arrived.
“You've arrived, sir.”
The legendary actor made his first appearance at the Mun Kyung-sae Open Set. The entire cast bowed deeply in respect to Lee Jae-soon. He'd missed both the crane-in ceremony and the group dinner due to overlapping theater schedules, so this was the first time everyone had greeted him in person. For Woojin, it was his first face-to-face since the script reading.
Shaking hands one by one with actors and staff alike, sharing warm greetings, the master actor finally stood before Woojin. He smiled kindly and extended his hand.
“I've heard so much about you. They say you're doing even better than at the reading.”
Woojin grasped the offered hand and met the teacher's eyes.
“It's all thanks to your guidance, sir. Thank you.”
“Hoho, giving credit to an old man like me—I'm embarrassed.”
Lee Jae-soon patted his back and continued.
“You haven't done makeup yet, have you? Let's go.”
“Yes, sir.”
Woojin carefully took the veteran's arm and led him toward the makeup room. Kim Cheo-seon, the role Lee Jae-soon was playing, only appeared significantly in the latter half—specifically, the scene where he offers unsparing counsel to Yeonsangun before meeting his death. He popped up in a few individual shots besides that, but one shooting day was plenty. For the great actor, today was both first and last. Despite it being just one cut, everyone felt immense gratitude that he'd traveled all this way, which was why they'd bowed so deeply the moment he arrived.
“Woojin! Today we're challenging the 1-hour-40-minute cut—huh?!”
A makeup staffer burst in, mistaking him for Woojin and charging forward excitedly, only to reel back in shock. Lee Jae-soon looked startled, while Woojin barely stifled a laugh as he followed her in.
“What's this about 1 hour 40?”
“Oh, it's just...”
After hearing the explanation about their so-called “makeup Olympics,” the veteran burst into hearty laughter.
“Hahaha! Sounds fun. How about splitting into two teams for a showdown?”
He tossed out the playful idea himself, and the makeup team, now divided into squads, burned with competitive fire from the get-go as they seated the two men. Exactly 1 hour and 30 minutes later...
“Huff... we burned it white-hot...”
“No regrets even if I die today...”
The staff collapsed in a heap alongside their new(?) record.
“Lee Jae-soon and Baek Woojin makeup complete...”
A trembling rookie relayed the update over the walkie, and
“Shooting!”
The FD bellowed as usual. With Woojin's support, Lee Jae-soon rose.
“Let's go.”
“Yes, sir.”
The two headed to set.
Today's shoots: two scenes. One was Kim Cheo-seon's death. The other, born from Woojin's idea, was set a week before the Jungjong Coup.
“Oppa, you okay today?”
“Woojina. Fight today!”
Both demanded heavy emotional output from Yeonsangun, worrying the actors. But since both were set at Gyeonghoeru, it was prime cue-sheet material for the crew. Ryu had suggested spreading it over two days to avoid strain, but Woojin wanted to accommodate the production as much as possible. In the end, the director graciously accepted the actor's potentially grueling ambition—because he trusted the performances he'd seen so far.
Woojin stepped onto the set for Kim Cheo-seon's death scene.
'What is this? This feeling...'
A sudden, inexplicable unease washed over him. Something was off.
'Just nerves...'
Three days prior, Ryu had announced two changes. First: the revision to Kim Cheo-seon's final moments, which they'd read at the script session straight from the records. The original—limbs and tongue severed, yet offering counsel in broken speech before taking an arrow—leaned too cruel over tragic. To nail the intent, they'd switched to him whole-limbed, dying by a single stroke yet unyielding in his admonition to the end. Only a few short lines were cut; the core dialogue stayed intact. The big shift was in actions, easily checked via blocking on set.
Second: the shooting method. To match Woojin's consideration for the team, Ryu opted for simultaneous multi-cam, long take. That meant a jib cam sweeping low to high, two for full front/side shots of Yeonsangun and Kim Cheo-seon, two close-ups each—five main cams total. Plus subs for boom-up (rising shot) and boom-down, totaling eleven cameras for a massive setup.
With so many angles, precision was key—not a millimeter off. Staff taped marks on the floor, double- and triple-checked. The shoot's complexity turned the usually lively set deadly serious, even tense. But that was all expected, nothing odd...
The issue was the blocking. Something felt off about the movements Ryu demanded of Lee Jae-soon and Woojin. Didn't quite match the stage directions in his script. Woojin felt a twinge of doubt but brushed it aside, taking his mark without question. He cleared his stray thoughts, delving deep to awaken the dormant Yeonsangun within.
Lee Jae-soon stared into the distance, lost in thought. Ryu watched their auras build on the monitor, then signaled his AD.
“Standby!”
“Camera roll.”
“Sound okay.”
-Clack.
“Scene 96, take 1.”
The eagerly awaited slate shattered the hush with a crisp snap.
“Ready—and action!”
“You mustn't do this, Your Highness!”
The veteran's booming voice struck first. Kim Cheo-seon's desperate cry cleaved the air, slamming into Yeonsangun's heart.
“What did you just say? Speak again.”
His response—a mad glare too terrifying for mere reply—pinned the eunuch. Yet the old servant showed no fear.
“This servant has named seven in total...”
Woojin's line followed seamlessly.
“...and what is it you wish to say?”
The words matched the reading, but the energy between them was worlds apart. Their rapid-fire exchange pulsed with layers: Yeonsangun's rage, madness, fluster; Kim Cheo-seon's urgency, resolve, that faint human tremor of dread. Emotions piled on, too many to count on fingers—visceral, undeniable.
Cameramen nearly lost themselves in the acting duel, snapping back to their marks. Other cast held their breath, terrified of a single noise. Only the actors' voices echoed through the set, winter winds themselves gone silent.
Their auras swelled with each line.
“Since you beg to die before me, I shall grant your wish.”
Yeonsangun drew the Byeonun Sword from a nearby guard.
-Shing!
The blade sliced mercilessly through the old man's front.
-Thud!
Kim Cheo-seon crumpled limply to the cold earth. Tragedy emanated from Lee Jae-soon's expression, his minutest gestures.
Yeonsangun knelt before the face, panting roughly, blade still propping the body—eerie.
“Speak once more.”
His face quivered violently, veins threatening to burst. The close-up crew and Ryu on monitors felt their pulses race at the detail.
“……”
“You dare! I command you—speak more!”
-Gulp.
As Woojin delivered with spittle, Ryu swallowed dryly. Because...
“Here's the revised script, sir.”
It dated back to the day Ryu announced those two changes to the cast. Handing the revision to the veteran, he'd made one request.
“Director Ryu, I have a favor.”
“Yes, sir. What is it?”
“Don't pass the changed back-half lines to Yeonsangun.”
Ryu had paused, but
“I've never pranked the same actor twice, but that kid might be the first.”
remembering the teacher's words from the reading, he got it.
“Understood.”
“Thanks. See you on set.”
The withheld lines came right after Yeonsangun's shout—Kim Cheo-seon's dying words.
“I command you one last time. Speak again.”
Yeonsangun ground out the words, savoring them. Woojin had expected Kim Cheo-seon to rasp, “Regain your senses... Your Highness,” then expire.
But...
“...Ah.”
The ragged breath from the eunuch's trembling lips sounded ominous. He was trying to speak, but it was inaudible. Thus began Yeonsangun's ad-lib.
“What nonsense is this worm spouting now?”
His lip curled in mockery toward Kim Cheo-seon. The old lips kept moving, words lost. Frustrated, Yeonsangun pressed his ear close.
'……!'
His eyes bulged, pupils wildly shaking.
“...Ah.”
What escaped the eunuch's lips was beyond imagining. On death's doorstep, the old servant's final words were,
“Yung... Ah.”
The pet name Yeonsangun had allowed only Jang Nok-su.