Flower of Blood: First Day on Set
The moment the grand gates of the towering mansion swung open, the full landscape of the filming set unfolded before my eyes.
This was the place I had come to visit today—the main stage where the child version of the protagonist in the drama Flower of Blood would live with her family, and the set where the very first shoot would take place.
Massive production trucks packed the courtyard, thick cables snaked across the ground in tangled lines, and dozens of staff members hurried about in every direction.
Audition rooms had felt somewhat familiar—close enough to the job interviews I had endured in my previous life while preparing for employment—so I had taken those in stride. But the atmosphere of a real filming set was something else entirely.
Broadcast equipment filled every corner, and the bustling, charged air of the location made me feel, for the first time, that I had truly become an actress.
Stepping inside the mansion, I spotted several people sitting in one corner of the living room, scripts in hand.
“…Oh my, that person!”
Beside me, my mother Han Ari’s breath caught audibly.
It was no wonder. The man and woman seated on the living-room sofa were famous actors even a six-year-old like me could recognize at a glance.
And they were the very actors cast as my mother and father in this drama.
While Mom stared, unable to look away in wonder, I stood beside her and deliberately smoothed my clothes, pretending to be the picture of composure.
But if I was being honest, my own heart was racing with the same excitement.
All right. First impressions matter.
To leave a good impression, I intentionally raised my voice a full tone higher and greeted them with bright energy.
“Hello! I’m Seo Da-young, joining the cast starting today! Please take good care of me!”
My carefully crafted cheerful greeting rang out across the set. Casting director Lee Min-woo, who happened to be passing nearby, spotted us with a welcoming smile and hurried over.
“Oh, Da-young’s here. Come this way. I’ll take you to the waiting room where the actors you’ll be filming with are waiting.”
Following Lee Min-woo’s lead, we entered the waiting room. Inside were the lead actors who would be shooting the first scene with me today.
I had secretly used Dad’s PC to research them the moment I passed the audition, so every face was already familiar.
I took one deep breath, then approached them one by one and offered polite, earnest greetings.
The first person I greeted was the actress playing my mother in the drama—Lee Ji-soo.
She had debuted as a teen star in her high-school years and had remained active on the front lines of the entertainment industry well into her thirties. Even past her mid-thirties she still looked like she was in her late twenties, so much so that I almost wondered whether she could convincingly play the mother of two children without any sense of dissonance.
“Hello, sunbae-nim! I’m Seo Da-young.”
“Yes, nice to meet you, Da-young. You’ve memorized the script, right? We’re professionals, so let’s make sure we don’t break the flow on set.”
Her smile was beautiful, befitting a former teen idol, but her manner toward me was rather businesslike and dry. She seemed the type who drew a strict line between work and personal matters.
Next I turned to the actor cast as my father—Namgung Hyun. He was a purebred talent forged in the theater scene of Daehangno. Though his drama experience was relatively limited, he was widely regarded in the industry as someone whose acting skill was beyond question.
His bold, intense features and sharp looks projected an imposing presence perfectly suited to the stage.
It was the kind of fierce face that could easily intimidate, yet when I bowed, Namgung Hyun reacted in a way I never expected.
“Hello, sunbae-nim!”
“Haha, so you’re Da-young? It must have been tough coming out in this heat. If you get tired during filming or there’s anything you don’t understand, just ask this uncle anytime. No need to be shy.”
The heavy atmosphere from moments before vanished as if it had never existed. He accepted my greeting with a gentle, warm smile. Despite his appearance, he gave the impression of a genuinely kind man.
Finally I turned to the last person—a six-year-old child actress the same age as me, sitting neatly in her seat.
Originally she had been Director Han’s first choice for the role of Yu Ji-hye, but with my arrival she had been reassigned as Ji-hye’s twin sister, Yu Da-hye. That child was Kim Chae-eun.
Unlike me, for whom this was a debut, Kim Chae-eun was already a veteran child actress who had shot multiple commercials and even appeared in dramas in minor roles.
On top of that, her mother had debuted around the same time as Lee Ji-soo and had been a legendary teen star of her era, while her father was a successful film director. She was, quite literally, the child of an acting elite family.
In terms of looks, she already carried a rather haughty air for her age, with a pretty face that clearly showed she had inherited her mother’s superior genes.
Honestly, until I stepped into the waiting room I had been a little tense. After all, it looked as though I had stolen the lead role of Yu Ji-hye from her, so I had steeled myself for cold treatment or subtle territorial hostility.
But Chae-eun simply stared at me for a moment, then unexpectedly bowed her head quietly.
“…I’m Kim Chae-eun. Nice to meet you.”
The child who had been glancing around the room finally walked over to me. She must have been too scared to approach Auntie Lee Ji-soo or Uncle Namgung Hyun.
“…Hi, Chae-eun.”
Seo Da-young, was it? The girl who had newly snagged the role of Yu Ji-hye that was supposed to be mine carefully spoke to me.
I kept my eyes on the book open in my lap and only nodded vaguely. I didn’t feel like showing much interest.
After all, the same-age child actors you met in this industry were all pretty much the same.
When I didn’t respond, Seo Da-young made a slightly awkward face, then seemed to steel herself and bowed her head.
“Um… I’m sorry.”
“…For what?”
“It was originally your role, right? It ended up looking like I stole it from you… I really didn’t know it would turn out this way. If it made you feel bad, I’m sorry.”
Unexpected words.
But that was all. I turned my gaze back to my book and answered quietly.
“It’s fine. I can still act even if it’s the Yu Da-hye role.”
“…You lost the part to me. You’re not mad?”
Seo Da-young asked, eyes wide as if she found it truly strange.
“Yeah. I don’t care about that stuff. If you want the lead role, just take it.”
My indifferent reply left Seo Da-young frozen, as if she had lost her words.
Glancing at her, I thought quietly to myself. As expected, this kid is just like all the others.
Everyone around me seemed obsessed with acting.
Even the audition rooms I had visited so many times I was sick of them were the same.
Adults desperately on edge trying to snatch any role they could, and kids my age swept up in their parents’ heavy atmosphere, memorizing lines like parrots without even understanding what acting was.
But the final winner of every audition was always me.
Whenever I received the acceptance call and left the audition room, the kids who had been rejected would sit in the hallway and cry their eyes out. Even older kids who had already entered elementary school would sob as if the world had collapsed, just because they had lost a single role.
But I could never understand that feeling.
Why stake your life on a single part? Why cry like that?
Even my own mother, who sparkled every day saying I had “genius-level talent as an actress,” was someone I couldn’t quite understand.
My face was the spitting image of Mom’s, but my personality took after Dad—quiet and fond of reading.
So rather than standing out and drawing attention, I was far more comfortable tucked away alone in a corner.
Even when Mom told me that a girl named Seo Da-young had taken the Ji-hye role, I honestly felt nothing special.
I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t resentful. I simply thought that the same thing countless other child actors had experienced at other auditions had, this time, simply happened to me in turn.
Is this Seo Da-young kid… also obsessed with the acting profession like the others?
If so, I wanted to tell her to take it freely. Whether it was the lead or anything else, handing it over to someone desperate to act was far more comfortable for me.
Not wanting to continue the conversation, I lowered my head deeply.
Then I turned the next page of the book resting on my knees, wanting to sink quietly into my own world.
What I was reading so intently wasn’t a script—it was a comic book. A thrilling, high-quality story about magical girls who protected the world from monsters with magical weapons like Magical Japanese Swords or Fairy Blue Dragon Crescent Blades.
In my eyes, the cartoonist who drew the comic I was reading looked far more amazing than any actor.
Just then, a shadow fell over my head. Seo Da-young, whom I thought had walked away, was now staring intently at the page of my comic.
Then her eyes went wide and she recognized it.
“Huh? This is… Fairy Cure, isn’t it?”
Becoming friends with the haughty-looking Kim Chae-eun turned out to be surprisingly easy.
“When the main character Luna swings the Fairy Blue Dragon Crescent Blade, the sound effects are so cool! My heart races every time she takes down the bad monsters with her magical weapon. Which character do you like best?”
“I think Luna’s the prettiest too. The scene where her fairy partner transforms into the Magical Red Hare and they fight as one is the absolute best.”
“Right, right! You get it!”
I gave appropriate replies to Chae-eun’s excited chatter and smiled inwardly.
I had thought that with her elite background and more experience she might act arrogant, but surprisingly she herself seemed to have little interest in the acting profession.
Watching her eyes sparkle with serious intensity over a magical-girl comic, I realized that while she looked haughty on the outside, her true nature might actually be a bit of an airhead.
“Haha, seeing two angelic kids getting along so well makes the whole waiting room feel brighter. It’s a wonderful sight.”
Namgung Hyun, sitting on the sofa and watching the two little girls talk, let out a good-natured laugh, clearly pleased.
Then Lee Ji-soo, who had been reading her script, tossed out a dry remark without even looking up.
“Namgung sunbae, we’re not here to play—we’re here to work. Don’t forget that. You’ll spoil the kids.”
The words themselves were cold, but her voice had noticeably softened.
I didn’t miss the way the corner of her mouth lifted, ever so slightly, when I snuck a glance.
While chatting with Chae-eun, I carefully observed everyone’s reactions. Fortunately, it seemed I had succeeded in leaving a good impression on the actors in the waiting room.
From experience, two pretty, cute little girls chatting and getting along was usually enough by itself to soften the atmosphere around them.
As expected, that strategy worked again this time.
By the way, was filming still not starting?
According to the schedule we had been given, it should be about time.
Just as I was thinking that—
“All right, filming starts now! Actors, please get ready!”
A staff member arrived right on cue to announce the start of shooting.
At the same moment, the look in Lee Ji-soo’s and Namgung Hyun’s eyes changed.
Even Kim Chae-eun, who had been chattering about Fairy Cure right beside me until a second ago, could feel that the atmosphere had shifted.
At last, my first drama debut was beginning.