The Smile That Broke the Internet
“‘Min-seo’ was created to drive a wedge between ‘Do Je-hyun’ and ‘Ha Min-jun.’ So instead of asking ‘Why is Min-seo acting like this?’ I thought it made more sense to ask ‘Why did the writer write her this way?’ and perform accordingly.”
If a character was built with a clear purpose by the writer, then honoring that purpose was the best kind of acting. That was why I had prepared several different versions of the character, and in the end I performed the version chosen by the director and writer.
Sometimes an actor’s personal interpretation could breathe even more life into a role, but expecting that level of nuance from a child actor was unrealistic. Gi Seong-hui didn’t seem to be pushing for the impossible either; she simply smiled with satisfaction.
“Still, doesn’t it feel like a waste? If you’d gone for a more three-dimensional approach, she could have been an even more impressive character.”
“I heard from Director Koo that ‘Min-seo’ only appears for about thirty minutes total across five episodes. If she had more screen time, adding layers might have been worthwhile. But with so little time, I decided that showing this version of ‘Min-seo’ was enough.”
Besides, it would also improve the overall completeness of the drama. After all, not every character could be fully fleshed out—real people weren’t always that complex either.
Gi Seong-hui offered a warm smile and took a sip of the plum tea that had been served for dessert.
“You even take things like that into consideration. Honestly, there’s nothing left for me to teach you.”
“No way. There are so many things I still want to learn from you, sunbae.”
It was the truth. It had been a very long time since I’d had the chance to act opposite someone like this. I had learned a great deal from the experience.
Especially after working with an actress like Gi Seong-hui, who matched her breathing and emotions so perfectly to her scene partner. I found myself wanting to act with her for much longer.
Gi Seong-hui didn’t seem displeased by my words. She thought for a moment, then asked,
“If you were given a role that required depth and had enough screen time, do you think you could handle it?”
“Me? Come on, I’m only ten years old.”
I wasn’t saying I couldn’t do it because I was ten. I was saying that a ten-year-old would never be given such a role in the first place.
It wasn’t a matter of ability. Writers rarely crafted complex, substantial, and attractive characters specifically for young children.
Yet the fact that she was asking anyway suggested she had a specific role in mind.
When I responded with an innocent I don’t know anything~ expression, Gi Seong-hui shrugged.
“Once your episodes start airing, who knows what might happen.”
She said “who knows,” but her tone was so certain it sounded like she was guaranteeing something would happen. Of course, I was hoping for exactly that. That was why I kept moving forward.
Building a careful relationship with Gi Seong-hui was part of that plan. A child actor who had caught the attention of a legendary actress? Both the public and people in the industry were bound to become interested.
“You should look for an agency soon. You never know who might try to contact you.”
It would be even better if Gi Seong-hui personally recommended me. With an endorsement from an actress of her caliber, there wouldn’t be a single agency that would turn me down.
…Even I hadn’t expected things to go this well. Everything was falling into place so perfectly that it was almost frightening.
Anyway.
Time to start preparing for an agency, then?
「Mom… don’t leave me…」
“Whoa……”
Sniff, sniffle. Yu Ha-jin stared at the little girl filling the entire screen and let out a sigh of admiration and a runny nose at the same time.
The child she had met while filming a Wetube video she had since quit had become an actress! And not only that—she had been cast after meeting a broadcasting director on the very day they first met. It was truly astonishing.
‘She was always so bright and articulate. I figured she’d be good at whatever she tried.’
Yu Ha-jin blew her nose loudly with a tissue. Watching “Min-seo” sobbing after being abandoned by her mother made her want to run to the bedroom and smother her sleeping daughter Rin with kisses.
Even Yu Ha-jin, who usually couldn’t focus on dramas and kept flipping channels, found herself completely absorbed. Lee Su-a’s acting was that powerful. The Su-a she had met in person and the “Min-seo” on screen felt like completely different people, despite sharing the same face.
‘The contract copy she showed me looked clean too… I really hope she succeeds as an actress.’
When she first heard that Su-a had officially started filming a drama, Yu Ha-jin had been overjoyed. Thanks to Su-a, she had made good friends and was even preparing to return to work. She wanted to help Su-a in return. That was why she had suggested uploading the video they had shot that day. If people learned about Su-a’s good deed before her debut, it would only help her image.
But to her surprise, Su-a had refused.
Did ten-year-olds even know the phrase “too early”? In the end, Yu Ha-jin had agreed and uploaded the video under the title “Channel Hiatus Notice.” She had naturally mosaiced Su-a’s face. Even though she had wanted to help, she felt a pang of disappointment that she couldn’t show the child’s face.
At first she wondered if it had been pointless, but not long after Su-a appeared in the drama, comments started appearing.
It was the day after episode 13—the one where Su-a appeared in earnest—had aired. Starting with that comment, the video began spreading quietly. As more episodes aired, both views and comments kept climbing. The subscriber count on the now-inactive channel even started to grow.
The notice had been posted over a month ago. It was still amazing that people had managed to find it.
At first people had been skeptical, but lately the comments had shifted to full confirmation. There were still occasional accusations of viral marketing, but most people agreed that since the child’s face was hidden, the video content was unrelated to the drama, and it was just a small parenting channel with around fifty thousand subscribers that made no profit, it couldn’t be manufactured hype.
Yu Ha-jin, who had been nervous about the unusually lively comment section, finally breathed a sigh of relief at the calmer atmosphere. Thinking about how much worse it could have been if she hadn’t followed Su-a’s advice made her break out in a cold sweat.
The community post she was about to upload had been carefully written after discussing it with Su-a, Su-a’s mother, and the drama director, so there shouldn’t be any major problems. Yu Ha-jin posted it right after the drama’s airing time.
She also attached a photo of Rin and Su-a smiling brightly together.
The response was immediate.
The post quickly spread across multiple communities. Since the drama itself was so beloved and many viewers were stunned by the child actor’s performance, reactions poured in from everywhere.
Once it became a hot topic among drama fans and netizens, reporters rushed to write articles.
And this wave of attention naturally carried over into episode 16.