What's with the High Cue?
After filming for Melancholy Romance wrapped — or, to put it more precisely, after Ha Eun-yul's portion of the shoot had completely finished — Ha Eun-yul started acting strange.
Inside the moving car, I tilted my head just enough to catch her face in the rearview mirror. She sat in the back seat, silent.
"……."
What was it? What did she want — or was something even wrong? I couldn't make sense of why she'd reverted to the Ice Princess. Even back when I was assisting Assemblyman Choi Giseok, this kind of thing happened from time to time. It wasn't as if I had some superpower that let me read every corner of a person's heart. Whenever a change I couldn't pin down cropped up, I just asked outright. So this time, I asked.
"Is something the matter?"
"……."
Still no answer, but the look she was giving me was anything but ordinary. Fierce. And yet it was different from the old days, when she'd worn the Ice Princess like a mask. This was real. She wasn't forcing anything on — something genuinely bothered her, some real dissatisfaction or discomfort that had taken root.
"Talk to me. I'll take care of it."
"……."
"Even if it's a difficult problem, you have to speak up first so I can know whether I can solve it or not."
Only then did Ha Eun-yul's mouth — still loaded with complaints — finally open. But she started the conversation with something I couldn't begin to understand why she was asking at a time like this.
"Where are you going tomorrow?"
"To the You Are My Straw set. Filming starts tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Pardon?"
"Ah… right, you said you'd switched over to managing Senior Bong Tae-soo."
I stopped at the light that had just turned red and looked back.
"I didn't switch assignments. It's just for this project."
That was the limitation of a mid-sized company. Whether it was actors or singers, the reason they got shelved — I'd learned while studying that fans used that expression — was generally this. An entertainment agency's manpower and capacity were finite, and when their assigned celebrities' activities overlapped, they couldn't look after everyone. So they rotated them. It was a little less severe on the acting side, but it was true that the current management team was somewhat understaffed. Team 1 in particular absolutely needed more people. It couldn't be solved overnight, though, so I'd ended up stepping in to help. I still didn't understand why this had become the topic of conversation at the precise moment Ha Eun-yul was in a foul mood, but anyway.
"I figured it would be fine, since it happened to overlap with Actress Ha Eun-yul wrapping her shoot."
No. Maybe I did get it. Judging by her words and her attitude, she was worried that losing her assigned manager meant her care would start to slip.
I started the car again and spoke to her.
"You don't need to worry. Even during your break, if you want to go on a variety show in the meantime, or if a commercial comes in, I can take care of it. So I'm still Actress Ha Eun-yul's manager. If you want a manager to accompany you for personal matters too, feel free to ask. We can coordinate, as long as it doesn't cause problems with Actor Bong Tae-soo's filming."
"…Ah, so that's how it is? I just ask freely? That's all it takes? Senior Bong Tae-soo's schedule is more important, though, right?"
My answer to Ha Eun-yul's barrage of questions was one.
"Yes."
"What about projects? You'll look at those with me too, right? I can't just rest forever. I need to find my next project during the break."
"Yes. I've been personally sorting through the synopses that come in, but if you want to see everything, I'll bring them all."
"Team Leader, you've thought of everything, haven't you?"
"Yes."
Even though I'd given her clear answers, the face in the rearview mirror hadn't relaxed even a fraction. If anything, she looked even more full of complaints.
That was when the Ghost, sitting in the passenger seat, let out a deep sigh.
"?"
I glanced sideways and met the Ghost's eyes. He gave a slight shake of his head.
I decided to reject the Ghost's sigh. I wanted to say that the weird ones here weren't me — it was the two of them — but I restrained myself from that, too. Their emotional swings were truly a work of art. Every last one of them. It was getting exhausting just trying to keep up. So I didn't bother chasing after it, and just drove on in silence.
When we arrived at Ha Eun-yul's apartment and I parked, Ha Eun-yul got out first. Lee Yujeong, about to follow her, grabbed the driver's headrest and whispered in my ear.
"You gonna keep doing the robot thing?"
"Doing what?"
"…Aigoo. The company people go on about how the Team Leader is some kind of genius, but from where I'm sitting, genius my ass… ah, wait. I acknowledge the competence. But you're worse than an AI."
I was about to turn around to reply when Lee Yujeong's small hand clamped onto my shoulder — tight, as if telling me not to look back.
"Come by with synopses every day. Not every day, but as often as you can whenever you've got time. Anyway, like you said, your assigned actor isn't Bong Tae-soo, it's Eun-yul, right? Isn't it?"
"……."
When I hesitated, her hand squeezed harder.
"Is it, or isn't it?"
"…It is, technically."
"Then drop by with whatever synopses you've got, in between. Let's analyze scripts together. Time doesn't matter. When Eun-yul's on break she just stays cooped up at home anyway, so she'll be at the house."
"……."
"Answer me."
Hmm. Honestly. How strong could the force from Lee Yujeong's small hands possibly be? Even if my fighting skills were garbage, it wasn't that bad. So this was… simply because I couldn't wrap my head around the situation all at once. I wanted it on the record that this was absolutely not a pride issue.
Instead of answering out loud, I gave a small nod. Reviewing synopses during your assigned actor's break was basic, anyway.
"Alright. See you then. You'd better show up."
With that not-at-all-scary threat, Lee Yujeong climbed out of the car and walked toward Ha Eun-yul. I silently watched her small retreating figure, then spoke to the Ghost in the passenger seat, who was covering his mouth and laughing.
"I can see you."
I pulled the car into a corner of the parking lot and replied.
"This is exactly why you don't get too familiar with people on the job."
My mistake.
The next day. The You Are My Straw filming location.
"Hoo… Tae-soo… you can do this. You can do this……."
Actor Bong Tae-soo was different from Actress Ha Eun-yul. That much was obvious, whether you were talking about actors or politicians. I'd arrived on set early and checked on Bong Tae-soo, who was giving himself a pep talk.
The role he'd taken in this drama was a third-generation chaebol named Oh Pil-seung. Heir to the OJ Group — though there was no succession dispute or anything of the sort. A family that had always passed the company down to the men, with four older sisters and a youngest son. Oh Pil-seung's father was Oh Gwang… hmm. I had no idea why the naming sense kept turning out like this, but anyway, everything from the character names onward was according to Writer Na Malchul's design.
Oh Gwang, chairman of OJ Group and Oh Pil-seung's father, had become the first conglomerate chairman in history to get a vasectomy the moment Oh Pil-seung was born. So in short: the youngest son of a chaebol family, with the succession locked down. They'd even gone and gotten a vasectomy after having one boy. How spoiled must Oh Pil-seung have been in the story?
Originally, the script had every piece of furniture and every door in the OJ Group family home — every corner, basically — rounded off. Director Yoon Hyunbae had canceled that over production budget and time. Anyway, given that he'd been raised as something incredibly precious, he looked polished on the outside and was ridiculously pathetic on the inside.
Suit, tie, the works. Bong Tae-soo, dressed neatly from head to toe, kept muttering to himself.
"I am Oh Pil-seung… a chaebol heir, four older sisters. At the company I'm a division head, but I'm a man in his mid-thirties who's never had a proper relationship……."
Team Leader Park Munsu's earnest instructions came back to me. Tae-soo mutters like that because he's trying to get into character. Keep talking to him when he does. It helps him lock the character in.
I reluctantly spoke up.
"Why couldn't you date? Oh Pil-seung, I mean."
"When I was young, they worried at home that even holding a girl's hand I'd break her, or she'd get hurt. Once I hit my late twenties I could get as far as dating, thanks to my background — but I'm so selfish I only know how to receive love, not give it."
Bong Tae-soo answered with his eyes closed. Since he was putting the character on, calling it a conversation felt a little… this was a bit like watching someone hypnotize himself. No matter how embarrassing and unfamiliar it was, though, I wasn't someone who left his job undone.
"…What's the first emotion you feel toward the female lead?"
"Fucking pissed……."
"Why?"
"Because she mistook me for a designated driver…… She's the first woman who's ever treated me like that."
A mild wave of disconnect washed over me. Phones, computers, television — even if it was for studying, I'd been watching dramas through every medium myself. But I'd never imagined it would be like this. The way actors prepared inside all of that, the way they moved. It was educational, at least. Ha Eun-yul hadn't done any of this — she'd just memorized the script the way a student crammed for an exam. Was this difference in the direction of preparation what made Bong Tae-soo an actor's actor?
I asked Bong Tae-soo, not Oh Pil-seung.
"Have you memorized the whole script?"
"The… script?"
Only then did his closed eyes open. Oh Pil-seung, now back as Bong Tae-soo, answered me.
"Yes. The script, well… of course……."
He held it out with real confidence. I understood the moment I took it. The pages were packed tight with notes, worn with handling. It was hard to believe this was a script he'd received less than a week ago.
"Shall we go, then."
"Yes. I'll be in your care."
I got out of the car with Bong Tae-soo and headed for the filming location.
…Or so I say.
Ding—.
The elevator arrived at the first floor, and I stepped off with Bong Tae-soo. We'd merely gone up from the underground parking garage of the TVK Headquarters building to the lobby. The protagonist, Oh Pil-seung, was a chaebol heir and a headquarters division head — there was no way a building of that scale would have gotten filming permission in a week. Director Yoon Hyunbae had pulled some strings.
"Aigoo… our leading man is here?"
Director Yoon Hyunbae, still wearing that warm, easy impression, greeted Bong Tae-soo with a full smile. Bong Tae-soo bowed at the waist in return.
"Hello, Director. I'll be in your care."
"I'm the one who should be asking, my friend. It's your first lead role — I'll capture you beautifully."
"Yes. I'll work hard."
"Just take it easy. There's not a person here who doesn't know Tae-soo can act. Relax. Play it to the character."
"Yes."
I left the two of them and surveyed the set. I wasn't someone who could actually do anything on a film set, but taking it all in like this, bit by bit, mattered. This became an asset. Just as people were all different, so were sets — the more I took in, the more it would help my actors.
But… this set was strange.
"Ah, the fuck you looking at?"
Starting with someone's almost-curse, grumbling poured in from every direction. And yet it wasn't particularly heated. Borrowing an expression the old orphanage director used to use a lot felt about right: it was grumbling, yes, but the kind of low muttering you got from rain-soaked monks.
"Hey, where the hell did the AD go? Isn't anyone controlling the set?"
When someone called for the assistant director, Kim Hak-seon came walking over, stroking his chin. I'd once described production staff as either having a belly sticking out, or going a little thin on top. Kim Hak-seon — a director in his own right, though he was serving as assistant director on this project — now had both going on. He called out quietly to the onlookers.
"Get lost."
Even though the set was inside the broadcasting station's headquarters building, complete control of foot traffic was impossible. It wasn't as if only the drama department occupied the building — there was variety, news, plus support teams and contracted personnel. Anyway, there were a lot of them. A huge number. Not all of them had come out, but quite a few people had surrounded the set with their arms crossed, faces full of amusement, the look of people saying let's see how this goes.
"Why, let us watch. We're curious how you shoot."
"Fighting, seniors!"
"They're calling for the AD — why's the Deputy Head coming out?"
"Just trying to learn something, Deputy Head!"
"Pfft, wait, an AD at that age? What's that about?"
"Oh my? What happened? PD Kim is the AD? When I came in you were a director — did you get demoted?"
That wasn't ignorance talking. That was a hundred percent them messing with him. As Assistant Director Kim Hak-seon bit his lower lip at the chatter flying from all directions, the watching employees, sensing it was real, hurriedly scattered.
"I oughta just slash all their performance reviews for running their mouths. These little shits."
Still muttering, Kim Hak-seon turned back around and declared to the people on set,
"Handle it yourselves. Stop looking for the AD."
That was what he said. But when Director Yoon Hyunbae had declared this would be his last project filming at TVK, Kim Hak-seon himself had booted the original assistant director who'd already joined and come in as AD.
The set staff were all strangely, uniformly slow — and yet, once they actually got to it, prep wrapped up quickly without any fuss. When Bong Tae-soo and the other actors appearing in the first scene took their positions, Director Yoon Hyunbae, serving as main PD, shouted:
I was standing quite a distance away. Even so, I could hear Assistant Director Kim Hak-seon, who was even further behind me, sigh as he spoke.
"Aigoo… that hyung of mine, I swear…… What's with the 'High Cue'…?"
It wasn't just Kim Hak-seon who felt that way. The Ghost spoke up as if lamenting right along with him.