The Test Begins

"Excuse me — coming through!"

"PD! Come take a look at this!"

"Hey, who's the bastard who stacked boxes right here? You moving them or what?"

My first-ever drama set was even more chaotic than I'd imagined. Camera equipment packed the park, towering lights stood at every turn, and people dressed in black hurried back and forth with practiced urgency.

I scanned my surroundings for a moment, spotted the photographer who had given me his business card, and made my way toward him.

"Hello."

"Hm? Oh, hey! You're here early."

The photographer lifted his bone-tired face, and his expression brightened in an instant. Surely he'd worn that same look the day I called him.

The day I placed that call, having first gotten the director's permission, the photographer came straight over, grinning from ear to ear. He said he'd shown my photo to the director and gotten an immediate green light, and he looked absolutely thrilled about it.

Apparently the PD was a stickler for naturalness and had originally planned to pull a kid from the park on the day of the shoot — but the moment he saw my picture, he ordered the photographer to bring me in at once.

"Ugh, scouting on set like that means chasing down parents for contact info and consent all over again, and guess who ends up doing every last bit of the tedious work? The staff. You saved us, kid."

Whether his gratitude was more than lip service or not, the photographer meticulously walked me through the part I'd be playing.

Not that I could really call it a part.

My entire appearance would amount to twenty seconds, if that. There weren't even any directions for expression or movement.

Then again, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a TV appearance wasn't my goal, and I had no reason to care about screen time in the first place.

There was exactly one reason I was doing this drama — the test.

The truth was, I'd pocketed that business card with no intention of ever using it. Pretending to be someone else wasn't a trick that required a camera.

I knew nothing about drama shoots, but there would surely be crowds of people, machines and cables everywhere. Wasn't that the perfect stage for an unfortunate accident?

If not for Angae's words, I never would have dug that card back out.

Remembering the director's face — so visibly bewildered — I hadn't been able to bring myself to say it was nothing.

Which meant I ought to seize this chance to be someone else officially.

And so I had spent the past six days racking my brain over who to imitate this time.

"Huh? Don't tell me you came here alone?"

"...? Yes."

I answered the photographer's puzzled question with a puzzlement of my own. I'd heard the teachers had waged a ferocious battle over who would accompany me to the set, but I hardly required a guardian. It wasn't as if the set was far from the orphanage, and the day's scenes were short enough to wrap well before dark.

"We should greet the PD first... hm, he seems buried right now. Why don't you wait over there for the time being?"

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stepped into the waiting area the photographer had pointed out. There were plenty of empty chairs inside the tent, but with crew members dashing every which way, sitting alone felt somehow wrong, so I'd just been standing there.

"Not going to sit?"

At the sudden voice I turned, and the first thing I caught was the corners of a mouth curving in an easy, warm arc.

"Nice to meet you. You're the child actor in today's scene, aren't you?"

"I'm not an actor, but I am in today's scene."

"I see. I'm Lee Jeonghyeon."

"I'm Lee Yeonjae. Please, speak comfortably with me."

"Haha, shall I? Come on, sit down first. If you won't sit, I can't either. What kind of adult keeps a kid standing and sits himself?"

Lee Jeonghyeon — my scene partner for the day and the drama's lead — had a soft voice. It was the dead of winter with a biting wind, yet the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mere sight of him made the air around us feel warmer. More striking than his tall frame or his crisply cut features was the way he treated me.

An adult who speaks to me in polite form — now that's a first.

Lee Jeonghyeon guided me into the chair beside his own and, asking if I was cold, pressed a heat pack from his pocket into my hands. His voice flowed on in a gentle murmur that suited the way the corners of his eyes folded every time he smiled.

"I heard they were planning to scout someone on-site. If it hadn't been for you, we'd have been in real trouble. There's hardly a soul in the park."

It was certainly far colder today than last week. My ears, which had taken the wind head-on on the way over, stung faintly.

"I think it's just the cold. Would you like your heat pack back?"

"Haha, no, you keep it. We've got whole boxes of them in the car. Hyung, could you bring us some more heat packs?"

Lee Jeonghyeon's manager returned at once with blankets and dozens of heat packs, dealing them out evenly among the surrounding staff as well. The moment Lee Jeonghyeon received his blanket, he spread it over my shoulders first and laid what remained across his own knees.

"Thank you."

"It's hardly anything. Though tell me — are you always this quiet?"

My eyes went wide at the question I'd never seen coming. Angae and I had agreed the test would begin the instant filming started, so until then I was simply being my actual self. Apparently my lack of social polish was showing.

"Sorry. I suppose I was nervous."

"No, don't apologize. I'm not finding fault — I was just curious. There's something so unusual about your presence, I wondered whether you were doing it on purpose."

"On purpose?"

"Yeah. That quality where people's eyes drift to you even when you're standing perfectly still? That's not easy to manage even when you're trying. You must have been born with it."

With a light smile, Lee Jeonghyeon joked that I was a natural-born entertainer. Even afterward, while he chatted with the makeup artist, the compliments kept coming — "Isn't Yeonjae just so handsome? Wow, he's got star quality from day one."

Perhaps it bothered him that I was there without a guardian; the way he kept drifting back to talk to me carried a tenderness so deep it seemed worn into his habits.

"Mr. Lee."

"Aigoo, too stiff. Just call me hyung."

"Oh — yes. Hyung, if you have a moment later, could you sign something for me?"

"An autograph? You're a fan of mine?"

He had something being dabbed onto his cheeks and couldn't turn his face my way, but his body, already half-rotated in my direction, practically hummed with interest. I had opened my mouth without thinking at that reaction, and now I faltered.

The teachers had insisted they simply had to see Lee Jeonghyeon's face in person — it had even come down to the world's most passionate game of rock-paper-scissors — which was the only reason I'd brought it up.

Should I just call myself a fan, even as an empty lie? Except I don't know the first thing about him.

I knew he was famous. Even I, who never went near the internet, had heard the name a few times. But that was the whole of it. While I was still weighing my answer, his makeup finished, and Lee Jeonghyeon turned to look at me.

His expression was odd.

"You're not, though... You're not my fan at all."

"..."

"Is it for your family?"

"For the teachers at the orphanage. How did you know I wasn't a fan?"

At that, Lee Jeonghyeon burst out laughing and replied, how could he not know?

"One look in your eyes and I can tell! That's not the look of someone seeing a celebrity — how would I miss it?"

His face, grumbling over how anyone could possibly not be his fan, was brimming with mirth.

"I'll sign it once we finish shooting. Don't forget to come collect it. Did you prepare well?"

"To a degree."

"Wow, now that's impressive? I can't even picture it. From what I hear, the PD wants bright and bouncy, and that couldn't be further from how you are right now."

"Standing by!"

Our unhurried conversation was cut short by a staff member's voice ringing out beyond the tent. I set down the heat pack I'd been kneading this whole time and was about to step outside when Lee Jeonghyeon rose to face me.

"Yeonjae. Ready?"

With his makeup complete, Lee Jeonghyeon radiated a celebrity presence twice as formidable as before. I thought of the other being who would be watching this moment, and answered.

"Yes. I'm ready."

The test begins, Angae.

Kim Jo-han, main PD of the drama Tail: Tracing the Traces, accepted the child actor's greeting with a listless nod.

Tsk. Extras at this level were better scouted on location — more natural that way — and since things hadn't gone the way he'd wanted, he was feeling a touch grumpy about it.

The kid wore a yellow hat that set off his fair skin, a look charming enough that even the indifferent Kim Jo-han found himself thinking, Well, isn't this little one adorable.

True to his well-known fondness for children, Lee Jeonghyeon had glued himself to the child actor's side. Two handsome men standing together like that made for quite the picture.

The shot will turn out beautifully.

For a kid hauled in on such short notice, he listened meekly to the briefing, and Kim Jo-han liked that.

Hmm. It wasn't a role of any consequence... but the boy was striking enough to warrant at least one close-up, so he hastily waved over the camera director.

"Jinho, let's grab a cut of the kid's face."

"Got it. We won't even need a reflector on that one."

As the title Tail: Tracing the Traces made clear, the show was a crime drama laced with deduction. A mystery genre with steady, dependable demand — and headlining it, Lee Jeonghyeon, whose career towered overwhelmingly over every other male actor in his twenties.

If Kim Jo-han couldn't turn this into a hit, he had no business calling himself a PD at all.

The plot ran roughly as follows. The protagonist, Juwon, had a future so bright he'd been accepted into a prestigious university — until his parents died, and he threw himself into brutal manual labor for the sake of his only younger sister. Once his sister became an elementary school teacher, he took work at an errand service, scraping by from one day to the next. Then his sister mentions that the scholarship money flowing through her school seems somehow off, and Juwon flatly refuses her plea to look into it. One glance was enough to see the matter was far too big for ordinary people to handle — but his sister, fearless to a fault, set out to dig up the truth anyway. After a blazing argument with her, he wanders out to a park and sighs. That was the scene on today's call sheet.

"Right after this scene, we're adding one where the sister fusses warmly over her students. It's meant to stand in direct contrast to Juwon's attitude, so Jeonghyeon-ssi — mean and scary on sight! You can manage that, yes?"

"Haha, of course. Yeonjae, it isn't me getting angry, it's Juwon — so don't take it the wrong way, all right?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Even in the middle of all this, Lee Jeonghyeon was tossing out words with a smile to loosen the child actor's nerves. The kid, who had been beaming away for a while now, chirped back, "Yep~!"

Doesn't look nervous in the slightest, Kim Jo-han thought.

"Then let's take it in one — no mistakes!"

"..."

"Jeonghyeon-ssi?"

"Ah — yes! Of course."

Lee Jeonghyeon looked abruptly flustered, but Kim Jo-han didn't think much of it and returned to his chair. Into the hush that had settled over the set, his gravelly voice boomed loud and clear.

"Rolling. Ready... and action!"