Before She Grows
Considering the state I'd found Mom in this time, I was starting to think immigration wasn't a real solution. Cultists could board airplanes too, after all. I'd have to catch the bastard who had killed her—who would kill her still—and wipe out at least some of the remnants that would scatter once their leader was dead.
I can't do it right now. But I can prepare.
I'd already done this once, before the regression, and I had more time now than I did then. This time, I was going to take them down for good. The basic prerequisite for wiping out a cult, of course, was money. Fame wouldn't hurt either. And so, today, I set to work on those preparations.
"Hello! I'm Lee Su-a, the actress!"
"Mm."
"Oh my! You were adorable on screen, but you're even prettier in person. It's so nice to meet you. I'm Lee Ok-dan. And this taciturn gentleman here is Director Hong Il-beom. He may not look it, but he's delighted to meet you, Su-a."
"I'm happy to meet you too!"
An upscale Korean restaurant, somewhere in Seoul. I had arranged this meeting with the production team to lock in my casting for Joseon Secret Royal Inspector.
Money and fame. If I wanted both, landing a good project was still the best way to go.
"Director Hong Il-beom, it's an honor. I'm Gwon Du-il, CEO of Hangil Entertainment."
"A pleasure."
The group assembled to discuss the casting was a small one. Myself, Gwon Du-il, and Lee Won-seok. Hong Il-beom, the casting director, and the screenwriter. Lee Won-seok had been reluctant to sit in, but he'd come along to even out the numbers and learn the ropes.
Director Hong Il-beom, who had just entered his fifties, was a lean man with piercing eyes and a sharp, austere face. His expression changed so little that a great many people found him frightening, unable to tell what he was thinking—a fact that did not bother him in the slightest. On the contrary, he dyed the gray out of his hair to keep that imposing impression intact, the better to have people go on being intimidated by him. He was also one of the very few people who could remain perfectly calm in the face of Gwon Du-il's terrifying smile.
After exchanging greetings with Gwon Du-il, Hong Il-beom spent the meal glancing at me now and then, but never once spoke to me. Gwon Du-il and Lee Won-seok, unable to parse what that meant, grew tense. I was perfectly at ease.
Watching actors is his hobby. He hates being interrupted.
So I addressed myself to the screenwriter and the casting director instead.
"Um, I was wondering—among the Il-yeong who attend Cheon-young, does the one she's closest to have a name of her own?"
"Hmm. I hadn't decided, since only one Il-yeong actually appears in the film. Why? Would you like her to have a name?"
"It's nothing major. It's just that Cheon-young only has one Il-yeong who's special to her, so I thought it might be nice if they had a name they used when it was just the two of them. Just a thought."
"No, that's a lovely idea. I'll give it some thought. And if you come up with a good name, Su-a, you tell me too."
Lee Ok-dan smiled, warm and easy. She was a very different sort of person from her husband.
The casting director asked what age would be comfortable for the Il-yeong, and I said late teens to around twenty would suit the part. When I added that I wasn't shy around anyone, so it didn't matter who they cast, everyone laughed and said that much was obvious.
Everyone except Hong Il-beom.
"Darling."
Lee Ok-dan smiled sweetly and drove her elbow into Hong Il-beom's ribs. The facial muscles that had been rigid the entire meal twitched.
So he was still weak for his wife. Some things hadn't changed.
He spoke to me for the first time.
"Su-a."
I could feel Gwon Du-il and Lee Won-seok, seated on either side of me, go taut. I met his eyes without fuss.
Hong Il-beom opened his mouth, his expression entirely serious.
"When are you uploading that song you promised?"
The muscles along Lee Ok-dan's jaw went tight. A split second later, Hong Il-beom jolted in his seat.
"Ghk—!"
"I'm so sorry. He has a habit of coming out with the most random things..."
"Not at all. It's natural to be curious."
Gwon Du-il answered with a smile, stepping in for me.
"The original artist wants to put together a proper cover, so we're coordinating schedules. We'll have it recorded and up within a month at the latest, and I'll let you know as soon as it drops."
"Thank you."
Hong Il-beom offered a brief nod and looked at me again. Something was turning over behind his eyes.
I ran back through the script and asked,
"Do I sing in the film, by any chance?"
"Hm? There wasn't a scene like that, was there?"
"There wasn't, no. Though something like pansori would fit pretty well, I think."
Gwon Du-il and Lee Won-seok, who had both read the script, shook their heads, and Lee Ok-dan looked puzzled—but Hong Il-beom's eyes widened, just slightly.
Holding his gaze, I gave a little shrug.
"Cheon-young isn't a shaman, but she plays at being one. And when a shaman performs a rite, the invocations and incantations can sound almost like singing. I thought if you were planning to add a scene like that, you might be curious about my voice."
"You know about that too? That's impressive."
The casting director sounded genuinely struck. Gwon Du-il and Lee Won-seok turned to Hong Il-beom with the faces of men who had just figured something out.
Hong Il-beom hesitated, then nodded, his expression unreadable.
"You're right."
His voice was a little stiff. The muscles in his neck and shoulders had gone tight. Lee Ok-dan was holding back a laugh.
...Wait. That's not it?
He actually just wanted to hear the song he'd been promised?
He didn't show much on his face, but I'd been watching him since before the regression. I could tell right away.
"If we do it well, Cheon-young would look like a genuinely divine being. And if she sings it herself, the whole atmosphere would come alive."
"If Su-a's voice cut through right in the middle of all the Il-yeong chanting the invocation together... whew. That would be something."
Gwon Du-il and Lee Won-seok marveled on, oblivious. Hong Il-beom pretended nothing was happening—then pulled a small notepad from his pocket and scrawled something across it in a rapid hand. It was a habit of his, whenever inspiration struck.
At this rate, I really was going to end up singing in the film.
"I've never sung anything in the pansori style... How much would I need to learn?"
"Just the basics. It only has to sound convincing."
I had asked out of genuine worry, but the answer that came back was free of any greed. Thankfully, it didn't sound like I would have to go live in the mountains and scream under waterfalls. If it had been a truly critical scene, I would have practiced without a second thought—but if the director said it wasn't necessary, that was that.
What he lacked in that particular ambition, Hong Il-beom more than made up for in his eagerness to start shooting.
"Let me see your hand."
I knew what he was after. I turned my palm up and held it out. Hong Il-beom took my wrist with surprising care, produced a small wooden acupressure rod, and began pressing it firmly into my palm.
"Doesn't that hurt?"
"It does."
"Then why are you sitting still?"
"It's bearable?"
"What about this."
"Ow."
"You take it well."
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"No."
"If you lie, Santa won't bring you any presents."
Hong Il-beom smiled for the first time. Just a slight lift at the corners of his mouth, but still.
He let go of my hand, apologized for hurting me, and scooped me a serving of the three-flavor ice cream the restaurant provided, doing it himself. The other adults each fetched their own and listened as Hong Il-beom spoke.
"How tall is Su-a?"
"We measured her a few weeks ago at a hundred and twenty-nine centimeters. She's on the small side of average, but she'll grow soon enough."
"She's going to be very tall."
"Haha, well, that would be nice."
"No. I'm not being polite."
Hong Il-beom pointed at my hand, which was covered in acupressure marks.
"She has large hands. Long fingers, too. And her growth plates are still wide open."
"Uh... is it like how large-breed puppies have big paws?"
"How are dogs and people the same?"
The muscles in Gwon Du-il's face twitched. It looked threatening, but it was the movement of a man trying very hard to hide how flabbergasted he was while remaining impeccably polite. Of course, that intention almost never came across. Still, the person on the receiving end tended to become equally polite, so the result was more or less the same.
In other words, they got polite because they were scared.
But Hong Il-beom, one of the very few people on whom Gwon Du-il's face had no effect whatsoever, was not scared in the slightest, and simply continued with what he'd been saying.
"At ten in Korean years, she'll grow five or six centimeters a year. In just one year she won't even look like the same child, and I want Cheon-young to have as slight a presence as possible. But I can hardly tell her to lose weight at an age when she's supposed to be shooting up, can I?"
"A fair point, sir."
"Which is why I think we need to start filming as early as possible, before she grows any more."
He'd said the exact same thing before the regression, and rushed the shoot. And I had grown, just as Hong Il-beom predicted—shooting up like a weed.
The casting director's face darkened. Lee Ok-dan said nothing, smiling the whole time. And then Hong Il-beom started squirming in his seat again. Watching him clutch his side and groan, I gathered that particular remark hadn't been agreed upon.