Yoon Ha-eun and Kang Si-woo (1)
Director Han Sang-in, who had taken charge of the Enflix original drama Flower of Blood, had been in an exceptionally good mood lately. The smile lingering at the corners of his mouth showed no sign of fading.
And why wouldn’t it? An unexpected fairy had appeared in this production.
Seo Da-young—the wild genius who had burst onto the audition stage like a comet.
In truth, Kim Chae-eun’s acting ability was clearly top-tier even when measured against other child actors her age. Yet when it came to the climax of episode two that Director Han Sang-in had envisioned—the moment the protagonist loses her entire family and sinks into despair—Chae-eun had fallen a little short. It wasn’t a flaw in her skill. The emotional depth the director demanded was simply too heavy, too profound, for any six-year-old to carry.
Then, during the second round of auditions, a miracle had occurred. He had discovered the perfect raw gem who could fill that missing climax completely: Seo Da-young.
Today, as they prepared to begin principal photography for episode two in earnest, the atmosphere on set was as good as it could possibly be. The adult cast was already outstanding, and now they had unearthed a shining jewel like Seo Da-young. As a director, he could not have asked for more. Han Sang-in even privately resolved that once this shoot wrapped, he would make certain to get Da-young’s parents’ contact information and call them first whenever he needed a child actor again.
Which was precisely why he failed to notice something.
That his set, which had seemed to sail as smoothly as a ship with a fair wind, actually harbored a very small problem.
It was only realistic. Any director who could predict power struggles among child actors would have to be a shaman.
Script reading is one of those tasks whose importance varies wildly depending on the director’s temperament. Some directors stay up all night repeating the reading until it is perfect; others place little weight on it at all.
Director Han Sang-in belonged to the latter camp. Real ability only revealed itself once the camera rolled, and even a reading that felt perfect could look completely different in front of the lens. Detailed acting direction, he believed, was best refined through repeated takes on set. During the episode-one shoot he had treated the script reading as little more than a light once-over.
The scene they would read today was the one in which the protagonist of Flower of Blood, Yu Ji-hye, accompanies her father Yu Jeong-tae to a certain party. On the surface it was a corporate networking event celebrating a contract signing. In reality the other company was also a massive criminal syndicate—the Heukryongpa—so the gathering became a suffocating war of nerves. Inside that tension, Yu Jeong-tae clashed with a Heukryongpa executive while the young Yu Ji-hye and the executive’s daughter, Choi Ji-soo, began their fateful enmity. It was a fairly important turning point in the story.
Among those moments, the scene I would shoot was the one where I first meet Choi Ji-soo at the party, am openly belittled and ignored by her, and then receive help from my older sister, Yu Da-hye.
Before the reading began I turned to the girl my age sitting beside me—Yoon Ha-eun—and offered a friendly greeting. Ha-eun was the complete opposite of Chae-eun, who, despite being a child, always carried a quiet, cool air that somehow felt refined. Ha-eun had big, expressive eyes whose emotions shifted by the second; she was the lively, energetic, adorable type of child actress.
“Ha-eun, hi. I’m Seo Da-young. Looking forward to working with you today.”
The response that came back was ice-cold. Yoon Ha-eun pretended not to hear me, never even turning her head, and simply stared at her script with a frosty expression.
Ugh. Baek Seo-jin warned me, and sure enough the kid’s a little prickly.
She’s still so young and already full of herself just because she’s an actress.
A short while later, at Director Han’s signal, the script reading began in earnest. The adult actors exchanged a few lines, and at last the children’s parts arrived.
“…All right, next let’s read the Ji-hye and Ji-soo scene.”
The moment the director finished speaking, the look in Yoon Ha-eun’s eyes—sitting right beside me—changed in an instant.
“You’re Yu Jeong-tae’s daughter, right? The vice-chairman’s kid?”
“Y-yes. You… know my dad?”
“Ha. Listen to the way you talk. I came to see what kind of face the Hwalhwapa vice-chairman’s daughter would be wearing after getting invited to a party… and just as I thought, you’re a complete idiot, aren’t you?”
Her tone dripped with venom. A sneer curled at the corner of her mouth. Even at the script-reading stage the emotion came through with absolute clarity. Whatever her manners might be, her acting ability more than matched that arrogance.
All right. Maybe I should take this reading a little more seriously myself.
“W-why are you suddenly… why are you doing this?”
“Don’t touch me! Trash from the Hwalhwapa has no business—”
Choi Ji-soo kept pressing and cornering the terrified Yu Ji-hye. In the end Ji-hye squeezed her eyes shut in pure fear.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing to our Ji-hye?!”
“…Tch.”
Yu Da-hye, who had witnessed Choi Ji-soo bullying Ji-hye, stepped in; Ji-soo clicked her tongue and withdrew.
“Okay! Great! Even at the script-reading stage the energy is overflowing!”
Director Han clapped loudly in satisfaction, and the adult actors seated around the table smiled warmly and chimed in one after another.
“Aigoo, these days the child actors really are overflowing with talent.”
“Right? Even in a reading their eyes are completely alive. Nothing like when we were kids.”
While the praise continued, Yoon Ha-eun seemed to believe she had completely seized the initiative. She lifted her chin and shot me a haughty sidelong glance.
Just then Chae-eun, who had finished her turn as Yu Da-hye, quietly pulled her chair closer to me and whispered in a worried voice.
“Da-young, are you okay? Just now it looked like Ha-eun actually hit your arm…”
“Hmm? No, I’m really fine.”
I gave her a light smile to reassure her. But my gaze quietly drifted to the left forearm Ha-eun had struck and left behind.
…Wow. That little brat actually hit me.
A script reading is only for matching emotional lines; it is not a place for real physical action. Tsk. Well, the other party is a six-year-old kid, and making a big fuss about actually getting hit would only ruin the atmosphere on set. So I’ll just put up with it. What else can I do?
Anyway, once we shoot a few scenes together we’ll never have to see each other again.
It couldn’t exactly be called problem-free, but the script reading had just wrapped up simply when—
Thud!
Ha-eun suddenly slapped her script down on the table and shot her hand into the air.
“Director! I have a question!”
“Huh? What is it, Ha-eun?”
“I have no idea why a kid like her is the lead! She’s completely getting crushed by my acting. Shouldn’t we switch the lead back to Chae-eun right now?!”
“Uh… uh…?”
At the sudden bombshell, Director Han Sang-in and the surrounding adults froze like mutes who had swallowed honey. But Ha-eun showed not the slightest sign of shrinking. She folded her arms with complete confidence and even pointed a finger straight at me.
“She doesn’t even look like a lead!”
“…I’m fine with my role the way it is. And according to the script, of course Da-young is supposed to be overwhelmed by you. So stop making a scene, Yoon Ha-eun.”
Only after Chae-eun herself stepped forward and calmly settled the situation did Ha-eun purse her lips, still looking thoroughly displeased, and sit back down.
In the unsettled atmosphere the script reading was briefly paused. The adults around us approached with awkward expressions, carefully gauging my reaction.
“Da-young, are you all right? Ha-eun just doesn’t know any better, so don’t take it too hard.”
“That’s right. Da-young, your acting was really good.”
Comforting words poured out, but as someone whose mind was already that of an adult, there was no way I would get angry over a six-year-old’s half-forced tantrum. If anything, I was simply bewildered by how unexpectedly fresh this development was.
Just as the mood was beginning to recover, someone approached Chae-eun during the break. It was the eight-year-old child actor who would be joining from episode two as the police commissioner’s son—Kang Si-woo.
“Chae-eun, you’ve been having a hard time because of Ha-eun, haven’t you? Here, drink this.”
He looked as neat and handsome as a little prince. On top of that he was even bringing water for the younger kids on set. For an eight-year-old—no, even setting age aside—he was remarkably gentlemanly. Far better than Ha-eun, who had just thrown an absurd fit and wrecked the atmosphere.
Why did Baek Seo-jin warn me to be careful of a kid like this?
Yet Chae-eun seemed to find his kindness awkward and answered coolly.
“I’m fine.”
It was a rejection that should have been embarrassing, but Kang Si-woo kept his easy smile as if it didn’t bother him in the slightest.
“I see. All right. Then if you ever get thirsty later, just tell me.”
I stood up from my seat and walked over to greet Si-woo as well.
“Hello. I’m Seo Da-young, playing Yu Ji-hye. Looking forward to working with you!”
The moment I offered that bright first greeting with a smile—
“Hmph. Don’t act all friendly. It’s annoying.”
The face that had been smiling like a prince at Chae-eun only seconds earlier froze over in an instant. He looked at me as if I were some kind of insect—his entire attitude had flipped 180 degrees.
“…Huh?”
Caught completely off guard, I froze with my hand still raised in mid-air.
And so, amid that first meeting with the two little treasures, filming for episode two of Flower of Blood began.