A Nest of Lunatics
"Youuuu scoundrels! How dare you set your filthy feet upon this land and spill precious blood?! Get out of here this instant!"
His projection is excellent—no, wait. His beard is neatly kept, and every word, every little gesture carries the bearing of a nobleman. Judging by the accent, a yangban from the southern provinces. What's a man like that doing in a place like this?
"At that thunderous rebuke, hundreds of Japanese dogs scattered in terror! That moment became the turning point, and the invaders began their retreat. The legend of the Spirit and the Divine Maiden spread far and wide, and from that day forward the Japanese never again set foot on this land!"
Never again? Hardly. Plenty of them are still prowling across the strait, waiting for their chance.
"Ohh, what a legend...!"
He's buying this...? Kang Geon-bok is more gullible than I thought.
Yang Ho-gun shot a sidelong glance at Kang Geon-bok, who sat with his mouth hanging open in awe, then offered a suitably impressed reply.
"A truly magnificent legend! But how is it that you know it all so thoroughly, sir?"
"Ahem. As one of the Il-yeong who serve the Spirit, this much is only natural. Well? Wouldn't you two like to learn more of the legends of the Spirit and the Divine Maiden?"
"Us, sir? Ignorant folk like us? And besides, we couldn't possibly trouble a gentleman of your standing."
"Hah hah hah. The only ones of standing in this place are the Spirit and the Divine Maiden. I am merely one practitioner among many who revere and follow them. Your eyes have not yet been opened, but if you learn, bit by bit, you too could become Il-yeong — practitioners like myself."
They were strange words coming from a man who was so clearly a nobleman. Come to think of it, the fact that he had agreed without a hint of protest to share a room with Yang Ho-gun and Kang Geon-bok — a pair of shabby-looking woodcutters — had been peculiar from the start.
Only then did Kang Geon-bok realize that something was amiss about this place, and he opened his mouth with care.
"Don't rightly know what the likes of us could learn, sir. Folks who barely keep food in their mouths from one day to the next."
"Ha! So that's what was worrying you? There's no need to fret over meals here! Live each day with a grateful heart toward the Spirit and the Divine Maiden, and everything will be provided."
"We're already workin' hard every day as it is, sir."
"And yet it doesn't always come back to you fairly, does it? Truth be told, there was a time when I too lived only for my family, working myself to the bone..."
The man — this Il-yeong — spoke with a distant look, as if he understood it all. The long story he proceeded to unwind boiled down to this: he had thrown aside the ancestral family trade, renounced the world, and come here.
Yang Ho-gun could tell the man was hiding something. A handful of exaggerated gestures were evidence enough that he did not truly believe in the Spirit.
But it was not yet time to ask. To uncover the purpose of a man who had abandoned his parents, his wife, and his children to take up this life, they would need to build a little more trust first.
Whether that would actually help them get a read on this place was something they would have to keep watching to find out.
One thing, at any rate, was certain.
We've walked into a proper nest of lunatics...
The entire village had fabricated a legend around a single enormous tree and a little girl who had supposedly lived for over two hundred years, and they worshipped them both. It truly felt as though they had dropped into the strangest village imaginable.
Yang Ho-gun and Kang Geon-bok exchanged a look, and steeled themselves.
"Let's take a break!"
The assistant director's call was a blessed rain after the grueling shoot. For Bae Su-chan, however, it was anything but welcome.
"Hey. Get over here."
There were eyes on them, so Kim Jae-seok forced a smile, but his face was flushed red and pale by turns as he dragged Bae Su-chan toward the van.
The road manager took one look at the two of them, scrambled out of the driver's seat, and the van door slammed shut with a bang. Far from a rest, what followed was a tedious session of repentance — though for whose sake, it was hard to say.
"How many times is this now? Do you have any idea how many takes you've blown in this scene alone?!"
"I'm sorry..."
"I've told you over and over that the CEO has high hopes for you! Instead of working your ass off so we can get the rest of the agency's people in, you just want to make it on your own, is that it?"
"N-no, sir. Of course it'd be better if we all did well..."
At the sight of the deflated Bae Su-chan, Kim Jae-seok could only heave sigh after sigh. Ever since that day, Hong Il-beom had refused to give him so much as a scrap of leverage. He could try to sway the director with the photos he already had, but he needed something stronger.
Until then, Bae Su-chan needed to perform well. Even if Hong Il-beom grudgingly handed over a role under pressure, if the agency's actors did a good job, the director would let it slide amicably — or so Kim Jae-seok had decided, all on his own. Having arrived at this conclusion, he took it out on Bae Su-chan for no good reason.
"That little kid wasn't even here today. So what's the problem?"
"..."
"Don't tell me you're still affected even when she's not around?"
It was supposed to be a break, but Kim Jae-seok had spent every second of it spitting out attacks dressed up as criticism. When the assistant director called for everyone to gather, he capped it off with nonsense dressed up as advice.
"Hey, she's just a brat. A brat! She couldn't even take one punch from you. One kick and she'd be on the ground bawling."
"Uh, the kicking thing is a bit..."
"It's a figure of speech, a figure of speech. You said you do method acting, right? Then throw yourself away even off-camera and become Kang Geon-bok. You think Kang Geon-bok would lose a fight to a little girl?"
"Well, no, but..."
"See? Just think of yourself as Kang Geon-bok even during breaks. Don't you go getting scared of a brat who couldn't take one punch."
"B-but Kang Geon-bok isn't that kind of character..."
"Shut it. Just do what I tell you. From now on, I'm calling you Kang Geon-bok even on breaks, got it? Let's go, Kang Geon-bok! Don't you blow it this time!"
Bae Su-chan climbed out of the van as if he'd been thrown out. He didn't feel rested in the slightest — if anything, he was more exhausted than before.
Not that he could ask for more break time. He simply did his best to immerse himself in Kang Geon-bok.
"Cut."
"I-I'm, hhk, sorry..."
Tears spilled from Ye Na-ri's eyes, drop after drop.
She wasn't crying because she'd blown the take. The take had been blown because she couldn't stop crying.
I got up off the floor and tucked her hair behind her ear.
"Unni, I'm okay."
"I kn- I know that, but..."
Ye Na-ri closed her eyes and tried to calm herself, slowly — then she looked at me and welled up all over again.
No matter how I turned it over, it was strange. She had never been the type to immerse herself so completely that she lost control like this. We had been shooting the scene where she discovers Cheon-yeong right after the abuse, but this was excessive.
I wasn't the only one who thought so. The staff tidying up for the reshoot were grumbling among themselves, and I caught the words.
"Here we go again..."
"How come the bad feeling never misses?"
"She was fine until just a minute ago."
"That's because she wasn't here then—"
The staff member who'd started that last sentence met my eyes and snapped his mouth shut. Embarrassed, they ducked their heads, finished their work in a hurry, and fled as if making an escape.
I flicked a glance around, but no one else seemed to have overheard the complaint.
I'd had my suspicions.
But for it to actually be true — that the takes really did fall apart whenever I was on set! If they were letting it slip even with me right there, it had to mean it was already treated as established fact among the staff. This many ruined takes was clearly far from normal.
And they were saying I was the cause...
I lamented inwardly and dropped back down onto the floor. Fortunately, Ye Na-ri landed the okay on the second take.
There was a brief window while they prepared the next setup. I ran to Hong Il-beom before I'd even taken off my makeup.
"Director. Director."
"Hm? Why haven't you gone to wash up?"
"Um, can I borrow your ear for a second?"
It was too embarrassing to say out loud, so I leaned in and whispered it into Hong Il-beom's ear.
"The takes that keep getting blown — is that because of me?"
"Hmm. I don't think so?"
This old man...?
I furrowed my brow and shot him a look, and Hong Il-beom let out a quiet chuckle as he ruffled my hair.
"Go wash up. We've still got more to shoot."
It was written all over his face that he had no intention of telling me, so I backed off for now.
But I wasn't about to let it go. I went looking for Ye Na-ri.
"Su-a! You'll catch a cold wandering around like that!"
"Ah—!"
Before I could reach her, I was intercepted by Gwon Du-il, who came charging over with a thunderous look on his face and a huge towel in his hands. For the crime of wandering a mountain film set after dark in nothing but a thin hanbok, I was sentenced to being rolled up in a towel.
Gwon Du-il made such a racket with his fussing and scolding that I never got the chance to ask Ye Na-ri in secret.
No helping it. I'll have to find another chance.
I could ask Gwon Du-il to get a read on the atmosphere on set when I wasn't around, or I could casually ask Ye Na-ri the next time we shot together. Once I had a clear grasp of the problem, solving it wouldn't be difficult.
Just how comfortably naive that thought had been, however, I would learn the very next day.