The Protagonist's Proof
The icy silence that had filled the waiting room carried straight through into the filming of Episode 2.
That nuclear-bomb declaration about Fairy Cure Biha had left behind radioactive fallout in the form of a bone-chilling atmosphere.
Kim Chae-eun kept her mouth tightly shut and treated Yoon Ha-eun like she was invisible, while the other girl fidgeted restlessly, her face a mixture of injustice and bewilderment, completely clueless about what unforgivable crime she had supposedly committed.
In the middle of it all, Yoon Ha-eun kept shooting me looks full of resentment, as if every bit of this mess was somehow my fault.
Kang Si-woo was giving me the stink eye too, but…
Well, I couldn’t care less about some bratty little punk.
Aigoo. We’re screwed.
With the cold, hard judgment of a second-year kindergartener, I could tell that once a kid was this thoroughly sulky, there was no fixing it for a while no matter what you tried.
So I just clicked my tongue inwardly and kept sucking on my juice box.
“Da-young, are you really okay? Mom’s worried those kids seem to dislike you a little…”
In a corner of the set, Mom whispered with concern as she straightened my costume. Looking into her eyes full of worry, I flashed her a bright, carefree smile.
“Mom, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
I reassured her, then turned away and quietly swallowed a sigh.
The stage where I could talk things out with those brats had already passed long ago.
Now that it had come to this, there was no other choice.
I had to pull out the final plan.
For the record, the plan was extremely simple.
Frontal assault. Prove it with acting.
…But why exactly had I saved this method as a last resort?
I couldn’t remember.
“Alright, everyone ready! Once the blocking check is done, we go straight into the shoot!”
With Director Han Sang-in’s booming voice, the full-scale filming of Flower of Blood Episode 2 began.
Choi Ji-soo’s first scene was the same one from the very first script reading.
In a corner of a lavish party hall, Choi Ji-soo—daughter of a Heukryongpa executive—openly snubbed and shoved the protagonist Yu Ji-hye.
Yoon Ha-eun aggressively cornered Seo Da-young and delivered her lines in a confident voice.
The take was, of course, an OK in one shot with no NG.
See? It’s nothing special after all.
Yoon Ha-eun sneered inwardly.
She had been a little nervous that maybe things would be different once the real cameras rolled, since the adults had been coddling the girl so much. But even in the actual shoot, Seo Da-young’s presence was still far inferior to her own.
Still, my acting feels better than usual today for some reason…
The next scene was the first meeting with Min Do-hyun, the police commissioner’s son.
Unable to stay at the party any longer, Yu Ji-hye fled outside and happened to run into Min Do-hyun.
He comforted the grieving Yu Ji-hye, healing her wounds, and she began to open her heart to him.
Kang Si-woo had been ice-cold all the way through the script reading, but he was still a professional.
The moment the camera started rolling, the frosty attitude from the waiting room vanished, and he transformed into the perfect little prince with a gentle smile.
And then came Yu Ji-hye’s face, completely smitten with Min Do-hyun.
Hmph. This is why kids are kids.
Kang Si-woo also clicked his tongue inwardly and wore a smug little smile.
Even after he had been so blatantly cold to her, the second he struck a cool pose in front of the camera she went all gooey-eyed.
Still, my acting feels better than usual today for some reason…
And so the two child actors strutted around the entire shoot convinced that Seo Da-young was nothing special.
“Wow, that Da-young kid is seriously amazing. I saw it from the script reading, but her ability to elevate her scene partners is unreal.”
“Right? Da-young completely kills her own presence in the background and catches every beat perfectly, so Ha-eun and Si-woo’s acting looks way better by comparison. She’s making them shine beyond their actual skill level.”
The on-set staff watching the monitors murmured in quiet admiration.
“And those two child actors probably don’t even realize Seo Da-young is carrying them. They think it’s all their own talent.”
“Haha, yeah, they look pretty full of themselves.”
As the staff exchanged wry smiles, Han Ari fidgeted anxiously with her fingers nearby.
Hearing the praise eased her heart a little, but not completely.
The cold atmosphere from the waiting room still weighed on her. She couldn’t shake the fear that Da-young might get hurt by those kids’ sharp edges.
Da-young said she was fine, but…
Ari swallowed dryly and quietly watched, choosing to trust her daughter.
If the children’s feud truly crossed the line, she would step in as a mother—but for now, all she could do was believe in Da-young.
Beside her, Kim Chae-eun’s mother Baek Seo-jin was watching Seo Da-young with a completely different kind of meaningful gaze.
Just as I expected.
The world of child actors was no different from the adult one. If anything, the raw emotions made the bullying even more childish—and more cruel.
Especially for a parachute with no career and no agency.
So, how are you going to handle this, Da-young?
Baek Seo-jin studied her with interest.
Surviving in the entertainment industry took more than just good acting. Would she be crushed under the kids’ power struggle and fade away, or would she show something that flipped the entire board?
Is she just another child… or something more?
Baek Seo-jin watched Seo Da-young with eyes burning with intense curiosity.
Through the two children’s territorial games and the parents’ worries and expectations, the shooting schedule marched on.
Before long, Choi Ji-soo and Min Do-hyun’s portions were finished, and Episode 2 moved into its latter half.
Yu Ji-hye, whose identity as the daughter of a Hwalhwapa executive had been exposed to Min Do-hyun.
He was disappointed in her, and for the first time she poured out words of resentment toward her own parents, Yu Jeong-tae and Han Yu-ra.
After running away from home, Yu Ji-hye was calmed by her older sister Yu Da-hye, who had chased after her, and returned home.
And then the climax of Episode 2 began.
Yoon Ha-eun and Kang Si-woo.
Even though it wasn’t their shooting day, the two kids were on set.
It was because the little girl named Seo Da-young had invited them if there was something she wanted to show them during this shoot.
She had even gotten prior permission from Director Han and the other staff.
Since the shoot fell on a weekend and Episode 2 marked the end of the entire past arc, it was a perfect chance for all the past-arc actors to gather for a wrap party afterward.
There was no real reason to refuse, so the two kids showed up without much suspicion.
“....”
“....”
And Yoon Ha-eun and Kang Si-woo held their breath as they watched Seo Da-young beyond the camera.
Was it simply because they had to stay quiet during filming?
No. It was something else entirely.
The sight of Seo Da-young beyond the lens.
When she returned home, her mother and father had both been murdered by assailants, and Yu Da-hye pulled her little sister into the wardrobe to hide.
But in the process of hiding, Yu Ji-hye made a sound by mistake. They were discovered, and just as they were about to be killed, Yu Da-hye revealed herself to save her sister.
Right before Yu Ji-hye’s eyes, Yu Da-hye was murdered by the assailants, and through the crack in the wardrobe the young Yu Ji-hye watched every second of it.
Both hands clamped over her mouth, tears streaming down her face, she desperately smothered every sound as she sobbed.
Fear and despair, confusion and grief—all swirling together like thick black watercolor paint in a deep, dense emotional performance.
All that entered the frame was a face half-sunk in darkness, yet neither of the two children could utter a single word.
No—not just the two children.
Every staff member on set as well.
Even the actors who had already died in their roles—Namgung Hyun and Lee Ji-soo—could only stare into the camera as if trying to burn a hole through it.
And gradually, Seo Da-young’s—no, Yu Ji-hye’s—expression began to change.
Fear and sorrow slowly gave way to despair and rage.
Like muddy water settling after the current dies down, the thick black emotions sank to the bottom of Yu Ji-hye’s heart.
Into a sticky, unbreakable lump that would never come loose.
The Yu Ji-hye inside the camera no longer cried while holding back her voice.
With eyes whose tear tracks had already dried, she simply locked gazes with the corpse of Yu Da-hye, who had worried about her until the very end.
And how much time passed after that?
Of course, the actual time on set wasn’t that long.
But to Yoon Ha-eun and Kang Si-woo, those few minutes felt like days had gone by.
Creeeak.
At last, Yu Ji-hye opened the wardrobe door and stepped out.
Outside, the blood had already dried, and flies and maggots swarmed over her family’s corpses.
The camera slowly panned once around the murder scene of Yu Ji-hye’s family.
As if it were her own gaze.
Then the framing shifted and finally closed in on Yu Ji-hye’s face.
Yu Ji-hye also slowly lifted her head and met the camera’s eye.
“...!!”
“...!”
For an instant the two of them felt as if their eyes had locked with Yu Ji-hye’s.
It was like looking at a completely different person.
The Seo Da-young they remembered from the set had always been quiet, annoyingly glued to Kim Chae-eun’s side.
Or, once filming started, nothing but the frightened, shrinking Yu Ji-hye.
But now the two children were face-to-face with an entirely different Seo Da-young.
Eyes as black as pitch.
Like a bottomless swamp that swallowed every emotion whole.
Yoon Ha-eun unconsciously held her breath.
Before the shoot she had only planned to sneer and prove she was better no matter what acting the girl pulled.
But in this moment she finally understood.
Why the adults had cast this child named Seo Da-young as the lead.
She had heard it from a friendly staff member once.
Originally Seo Da-young had auditioned for Yu Da-hye, but after performing a certain scene from Episode 2 at the audition, she was instantly switched to the protagonist role.
This scene.
It was this scene.
With this single scene, Seo Da-young had become Yu Ji-hye.
The staff member hadn’t said exactly which scene it was, but she knew it instinctively.
This was the real acting of a genius.
And the rest of the staff seemed to feel the same.
Every person on set had stopped breathing.
The camera director, the managers, the writers, the coordinators, the parents of the child actors.
Even the adult actors and Director Han himself.
In the face of the overwhelming aura Seo Da-young was radiating, no one dared to exhale carelessly.
“C-Cut! That’s a cut!”
Only then did Director Han Sang-in snap back to reality and hurriedly call cut. Only after that did Yu Ji-hye return to being Seo Da-young.
“Yes! Thank you for your hard work!”
The bright, smiling face greeting everyone.
Only then could the adults on set finally breathe again, as if they had been given permission, and the set that had been so silent even a pin drop would have echoed suddenly filled with noise once more.
Yet even so, Yoon Ha-eun and Kang Si-woo could only keep staring at Seo Da-young for a long time, as if spellbound.
The instant Director Han’s signal fell, the darkness and heavy air that had crushed the set vanished in a flash.
I also wiped away the emotions I had been immersed in moments earlier and returned to the polite child Seo Da-young, beaming as I greeted the people on set.
As if on cue, the surrounding staff and adult actors flocked around me like a cloud.
“Wow, Da-young! That acting just now was incredible! I got chills watching the monitor!”
“Exactly. How does that tiny face produce both madness and despair at the same time? The second your face hit the camera, every hair on my body stood on end.”
Even the camera director and lighting staff came over, swallowing dryly as they poured out praise.
The adults had never really looked down on me as a bad actor before, but now a more fundamental emotion—something close to awe—had settled in their eyes.
“Ah, th-thank you.”
Honestly, I hadn’t expected it to land this hard.
What do I do? I think I might actually have talent for acting.
In the middle of that chaotic shower of compliments, I spotted Baek Seo-jin, who had been standing near the staff, quietly reading the room before suddenly walking over to Mom.
“Um… Mother. Forgive me, but may I ask just one thing?”
“Yes? Oh, please go ahead.”
“Is it possible… that you adopted Da-young?”
“Excuse me? Wh-what do you mean by that?”
Mom’s eyes went round with a flustered expression.
Seeing Han Ari’s face, Baek Seo-jin seemed to realize just how rude and out-of-nowhere her question must have sounded.
Her usually cool, serious face rarely showed panic, but now it drained of color.
“Ah, no! I didn’t mean it in a bad way at all—it’s just that Da-young’s acting just now was so realistic! Please forget I said anything!”
Whether she was truly flustered or not, Baek Seo-jin waved both hands desperately as she apologized.
At the sight I swallowed a little giggle inside.
“Da-young. Good work.”
When I turned, Kim Chae-eun was looking at me with quiet eyes.
“You were really amazing. Now I completely understand why Director Han cast you as the lead.”
“Thanks, Chae-eun. You were great too.”
I said it while recalling Kim Chae-eun’s performance as the older sister Yu Da-hye, who had been murdered by the assailants in my place.
Unlike me, who was coasting on a second life, this kid was a genuine natural-born genius.
If anything, she might be the more quietly impressive one.
After smiling brightly at Chae-eun’s praise, I casually shifted my gaze to the two little brats standing a distance away.
Yoon Ha-eun and Kang Si-woo.
From the moment the cut was called, neither of them had taken a single step. They were still staring at me blankly, faces frozen in shock.
Ha-eun’s face had gone completely white, and Si-woo’s once-confident smile had been wiped clean off his stiff expression. It was quite a sight.
Whew. Mission accomplished.
How uncomfortable those two kids’ dismissive stares had been this whole time on set.
The long days of scorn and oppression…
But look.
With this, their view of me as a parachute had completely changed.
I smiled in satisfaction and thought to myself.
I should’ve just done this from the start. Why did I put this as Plan B and bother trying to make peace in the waiting room?
One clean, powerful acting performance and all that annoying territorial crap and power struggles got sorted out in an instant. So neat and tidy.
I was just berating myself for not going for the frontal assault sooner when, a beat late, I finally remembered why I had saved this method for last.
…Ah.
Wait a second.
Filming… just finished completely, didn’t it?
And just like that, my first drama filming period came to an end.
All that remained was the shooting of the portions I didn’t appear in, and then the drama’s release.