But I Couldn't Get the Script

The atmosphere on set had changed.

"Whoa. We're actually getting some real publicity out of this."

Ha Tae-jong came back from the buffet truck with a plate piled high, his face flushed with heat. Making a drama is like wandering a tunnel with the lights off. It does not matter how famous the writer is, how beautifully the script ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is built, or who the leads are. Even if you bring the finest equipment and flood the dark with light, you still have to walk all the way out the other end, present a finished work, and stand before the audience's judgment. You walk forward anyway, beating back the fear.

Time. Money. Every person's career. A vehicle loaded with all of that, rolling into a lightless tunnel — that is crank-in.

The term itself is a leftover. Cameras used to have a crank handle, and turning that handle was what started the film rolling. The handles are long gone, and the cameras look nothing like they used to. People still say crank-in. Maybe because the fear of the people behind the lens has not changed at all.

Ha Tae-jong scooped up a generous spoonful of rice and opened his phone.

Shin Chaeyoon had seized the resurrected real-time searches on every portal. The drama's name was showing up right alongside hers. Considering how much of a production budget gets poured into marketing, getting people talking this early — even before a single episode had aired — was an unalloyed good.

"Man, she really is the loyal type. Actress Shin Chaeyoon."

Ha Tae-jong could not hide his excitement as he shoveled rice into his mouth. Hyeon Jongdeok, the DP, sat down beside him and set a plate stacked to an absurd height on the table.

"Did you give Actress Shin the okay to post those photos?"

"Huh? Oh — Hyeon. Of course I did. She wouldn't have posted them otherwise. Social media's going insane. Articles keep dropping because of it."

"Shin Chaeyoon is Shin Chaeyoon, huh."

"Yeah. Shin Chaeyoon is Shin Chaeyoon."

The two of them stopped eating and grinned at each other.

"Hey, we used to say that all the time. Feels like forever since it came out of my mouth. Doesn't it?"

"It does."

There is a kind of meme that gets handed down like legend among people who work on sets.

You live through it once and the words come out on their own. She had shown up a single time, and all day long — social media, the portals, the entertainment news — the entire country was buzzing.

Ha Tae-jong popped a sausage into his mouth and scanned the area.

"Where's our little lucky charm? Where's Actress Ha?"

"Over there."

Following Hyeon Jongdeok's nod, Ha Tae-jong found Ha Eun-yul without any trouble.

"I felt it when I cast her. That she'd be this drama's lucky charm."

"Weren't you the one saying the interfering second lead shouldn't outshine anyone?"

"...Ah, well. That's only... inside the drama, I mean."

"Sure. Sure. Of course."

"Actually, wait. No. The interfering second lead should stand out. Right? If the second lead shines, then when the heroine makes her big entrance — ta-da — she shines ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even more."

Hyeon Jongdeok cracked a sly little smile.

"Looks like the coffee's all been drunk."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just a feeling I have. I don't think we'll be seeing any more coffee trucks."

Hyeon Jongdeok's gaze drifted toward Ha Eun-yul and Moon Najin, sitting side by side.

A short distance away, I was eating with Lee Yujeong. Shin Chaeyoon had already left, but the buffet truck was still there.

"Team Leader Lee called her in?"

Lee Yujeong, who had been picking at her food in tiny bites, spoke first.

"Yes. Though I only asked if she could send over a coffee truck or a snack truck. I didn't expect her to come herself."

"Why her?"

I stopped poking at my own plate and looked at her.

"She's a senior at the company. Other agencies send their seniors over. We don't have anyone who can. And I couldn't exactly ask our other actors — they're all too busy. So Actress Shin Chaeyoon came to mind."

"...I see."

She answered and went back to picking, feeding herself in small, careful bites. I watched her for a moment, then said,

"It's good, isn't it?"

"Sorry?"

"The buffet. I didn't expect it to go this far. It's actually delicious."

"Ah... yes."

Her presence was remarkably faint. Except for the times she went on guard around Ha Eun-yul because of me, you could sit in the same car and forget she was there. Being small only made it worse. Looking at Lee Yujeong, though, I was reminded of the older kids at the orphanage. That particular feeling — wanting someone to stand on their own, because you cannot protect them yourself.

"You have to let her take a few hits. To a point."

"Sorry?"

When Lee Yujeong asked again, I pointed toward Ha Eun-yul's table.

"Look over there."

Her eyes followed. Worry, concern, a kind of aching fondness — the look you give a youngest sibling — flickered across her face. I am not an emotional person, but that particular expression was so familiar I caught it at once. Lee Yujeong spoke quietly.

"...You think once they turn twenty they're adults. But she's still a kid."

"That's usually how it is."

"You just said she needs to take some hits."

"Within reason. Look at them now. They're getting along just fine."

Moon Najin was glued to Ha Eun-yul's side, chattering without a single pause. The atmosphere, though, was nothing like it had been before Shin Chaeyoon's... visitation. It was more like she was rambling to a friend who shared something in common. Ha Eun-yul's face was quite bright, too. Whether it was Lee Yujeong's handiwork or not, there was not the slightest trace that she had been crying.

"Unnie Chaeyoon really is an idol to actresses."

"I didn't expect it to go this far."

I had not just said it. I genuinely had not expected Moon Najin to change this much from a single hug and a single conversation with Shin Chaeyoon. Wanting to look impressive is human. In professions where you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to make yourself known — politicians, celebrities — it is even more common. I had no particular desire to criticize Moon Najin for it.

"...That brat kept showing off and acting so full of herself I couldn't stand her. I was hoping Unnie Chaeyoon would smack her one."

"If she had, the atmosphere would have gotten even worse."

"Tch..."

Lee Yujeong sulked for show, but she knew it too. If Shin Chaeyoon had put that young actress in her place and walked off, the moment would have felt wonderful. The set afterward would have been an even bigger mess, and Ha Eun-yul would have had a harder time. Ha Eun-yul's personality. Her position on this set. Moon Najin still held the upper hand on every front.

Watching a bright smile bloom on Ha Eun-yul's face — whatever they were talking about must have been fun — I said something I did not strictly need to say.

"When I was young, the other kids used to tease me quite a bit. Bully me, even."

"What?"

Lee Yujeong, who had been watching Ha Eun-yul and Moon Najin, turned to look at me, eyes wide.

"I grew up in an orphanage."

"Ah..."

"It was all right, though. I was good at school. If you're just decently good, you get jealousy. If you're overwhelmingly good, they don't dare. That was me. Overwhelming."

"I see... but why are you telling me this all of a sudden...?"

A fair question. I answered calmly.

"I got through it on my own, but some corner of me still wished for it. For someone on a white horse to come save me. For someone to show up so I wouldn't have to hear the word 'orphan' anymore. Nice things, nice clothes. Or even just... being able to buy a Pikachu pork cutlet after school, like the other kids."

"Ah..."

"Kids get crumpled by things like that."

My gaze returned to Ha Eun-yul.

"I'm glad my actress got properly uncrumpled."

"Um, Team Leader."

"Go ahead."

"You can speak casually with me... You're my senior in rank, and you're older..."

I picked up my empty plate and stood.

"All right. I will."

"...You sound like you've been waiting for that."

I just smiled.

That evening, I dropped Ha Eun-yul off and... did not return the car.

The apartment parking garage.

"Things should be a little easier now."

I was still sitting in the car even after watching Ha Eun-yul and Lee Yujeong disappear in the rearview mirror. Not because a car is an awkward space to stand up in — that was not the point. I meant I had not started the engine toward the office. I had parked it and stayed put.

"Seems that way."

"You'll be able to sleep a little more now."

"I generally get enough sleep as it is."

"You were going to say you had it worse as an aide, weren't you?"

"Still. Being able to sleep more is nice."

There was no reason to be cagey about it, so I agreed with the Ghost. He asked abruptly,

"When did you talk to Noona Chaeyoon?"

"While she was traveling around?"

The Ghost, sitting in the passenger seat, hesitated, then spoke.

"Thank you. Thanks to you, I got to see Noona's face for the first time in a long while."

I had no desire to sink into that emotional well with him, so I offered an honest impression of Actress Shin Chaeyoon instead.

"She was absurdly beautiful. It's a cliché thing to say, but I was stunned."

"Right? I saw her every day, and our Noona is genuinely gorgeous. She's got charisma, too."

"My heart did skip a beat."

The Ghost's face crumpled.

"Ehh? No. Don't you even look at her. That's way out of your league. Hyung Ja-ryong is glued to her side, and sure, he's getting on in years, but that man can really fight. He used to do taekwondo, and I only ever saw him get angry once—"

He was about to launch into the LA story again, so I cut him off.

"That's not what I meant."

"Ah. ...Right? Just as an actress?"

"Yes. I found myself wondering if Actress Ha Eun-yul might one day radiate that kind of presence and atmosphere. And I think... I was looking forward to it."

"Hmm... you think Eun-yul could get to Noona Chaeyoon's level?"

"There's a possibility."

Possibility is extremely important. Assemblyman Choi Giseok always said he was not presidential material. Now he is a genuine contender. That is not just a matter of public opinion — Choi Giseok's own capacity has grown.

We had talked long enough that a fair amount of time had passed. Ha Eun-yul and Lee Yujeong would have been well inside by now, so I got out of the car. The Ghost slipped straight through the driver's side and asked,

"Don't you think you can stop hiding that you live in the same apartment building now?"

"I suppose I could."

"They already know you used to be an aide and everything."

"If they find out, they find out. Until then, I stick to the routine."

There was that, if you wanted to keep it simple. They might also feel quietly uncomfortable knowing we lived in the same building. So I had not found a particular reason to volunteer the information.

In front of the apartment elevator, my phone rang.

"Yes. This is Lee Jaewook."

Team Leader Park Munsu's voice was quite serious.

"Go ahead."

Blue Moon, Red Star? The title clicked in my head just as Park Munsu's words came rapid-fire.

"I see."

"No. The script is fine."

Ding.

The elevator arrived.

"I do."

I did. Not in my hands — but I had it.

I pressed the button for a floor that was not mine.

"Set up a meeting with Actor Bong Tae-soo for tomorrow — no. The day after tomorrow. Two days from now. Remember that."

"Tell him you can't agree to terminate the contract without seeing him in person. He'll meet you for sure if you put it that way. Crank-in is a month away. They're the ones running out of time."

Park Munsu hesitated. I waited without pushing.

As expected. I had read him correctly. He had hesitated, but it seemed his brain had already been entrusted to me.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened, and my feet started moving again, with purpose.