The Wildflower's Smile
One thing I'd noticed since Gongbeomche was that I must have learned this job all wrong somehow.
CEs dispatched to the set were supposed to represent the OTT company's interests, organize the on-site situation, and report back...
"Director, wouldn't it be better if Park Seong-hwa held back a bit more?"
"Yeah. It read great in the script, but coming out of the actor's mouth, it's flatter than I expected."
"Then I'll ask a favor."
"Sure. I'll request the writer to tweak some lines with a similar tone."
"? No, not that."
"Then what?"
"Pass it on to actor Kim Ra-un."
"...Me?"
"Yes. Quickly."
Why was I constantly stuck watching directing right next to the director?
Even getting constant love calls from art director Jo Tae-seok.
And the workload only ramped up as filming progressed.
"Director. Could you ask Jae-yul to adjust his gaze a bit?"
"How?"
"Have him lift his head more."
"...Couldn't the director handle something that simple?"
"While you're at it, mention anything else that catches your eye."
"...Okay."
"Hurry. We're short on time."
No, had Director Im's personality changed?
During prep, he'd been super attentive to my cues.
Even though I'd told him not to, he'd gone out as C-team director and reported every little thing back.
"Director. Ask actor Kim Ra-un to ease up on the vocal intensity a touch? The voice change is good, but it feels a bit overdone."
"...Got it."
After half a day of this, I finally couldn't hold back and asked Director Im Un-jae why.
His answer was simple.
"Requests to you get handled accurately and fast, right?"
"..."
"Director Jeong did the same, from what I hear."
No. Director Jeong wasn't this bad.
That guy had his stubborn streak.
"Director Im, your personality seems a bit different lately."
"Now that filming's underway, no worries about a director swap, yeah?"
"...Ambitious. You've got layers."
"Of course. How do you think I survived the music video scene? It's war there too."
Director Im Un-jae, a year older than me, hummed as he muttered.
"You try it too. Get out there directing."
"What?"
"Kidding."
Yeah, I definitely learned this job wrong.
All Joo Young-hoon's fault?
He never taught me anything, so here we are.
We bickered with Director Im like that as we pushed through filming, but as midnight approached, the set grew quiet.
Im and I clammed up too.
The reason was simple.
The first two-person scene between Jeon So-ra and Kang Min-sik was coming up.
Everyone was dying to know.
Would Jeon So-ra's acting, after years in hiatus, still hold up?
Was unknown theater actor Kang Min-sik a Cinderella story? Or the worst casting ruined by my personal connections?
What would their chemistry be like?
Even actors resting in the vans swarmed the set right on cue.
Today's footage for the two wasn't light, but there were no make-or-break scenes defining their character arcs.
I'd scheduled the call sheet that way on purpose.
Didn't want to throw a tough scene at senior Min-sik right off the bat—he might struggle to adjust.
But we couldn't dodge it forever, so the final shot was set as the clash between Han Guk-young and Sa Mo-yeon.
If today's scene flopped, we'd reshoot tomorrow.
Han Guk-young was a character worth that investment.
For At Your Fingertips to succeed, Han Guk-young had to stand firm.
Han Guk-young.
CEO of domestic homegrown AI firm Role Model AI.
Raised in an orphanage, but possessed staggering genius, leading to adoption at the late age of 13 by a childless professor couple.
At 24, his adoptive parents died in a mysterious accident, leaving him their fortune.
This drew massive suspicion and humiliation from his extended family, but Han Guk-young truly loved his adoptive parents.
Enough to stake his life on their dream.
Their wish, as economics professors, was to build a virtuous company.
After enduring much hardship, Han Guk-young's big break was an AI startup.
That changed his life.
One day, every industry and nation would be beholden to foreign AI.
To avoid that, Korea needed a self-sustaining domestic AI firm.
That's the mission he embraced.
But reality was brutal.
Funds dried up, investors fled, and conglomerates eyed his tech.
If Role Model AI collapsed, they could swallow his core patents whole.
In that do-or-die moment, Han Guk-young chose issue-making.
"Let's make the biggest splash with the tech we've got."
E-sports.
He pooled every penny to acquire sponsorship of perennial losers Seonghwa Empire mid-season, then deploy AI tech to forge them into the top team.
A madman's delusion.
He was a born weirdo.
(Revealed late in the drama: Han Guk-young's AI model recommends Park Seong-hwa as the optimal coach.)
So Han Guk-young stands at the story's start and end.
I saw this setup via script possession, but writer Gil Sang-hoon thinks I drew from F1.
Recalled how energy drink maker Red Bull faced mockery—"A beverage company?"—on their F1 entry.
For Han Guk-young to rise tall, his dynamic with Sa Mo-yeon was essential.
Sa Mo-yeon.
Orphanage like Han Guk-young.
Originally Role Model AI's co-founder, but later sides with the chaebol.
The villain who pulls out all stops to tank Role Model AI.
Yet beneath her actions lurks obsession, love, and hate for Han Guk-young.
Originally a salaried CEO at a chaebol proxy fund, but with Jeon So-ra cast, we tweaked the backstory.
To suit her glamorous image: chaebol illegitimate child.
Born from the chaebol daughter-in-law's affair, sent to orphanage, later summoned by the chairman for face-saving.
Actually, to target Han Guk-young's company.
Honestly, not the setup I saw in the script, nor one I love.
A bit... too clichéd?
But we agreed the original couldn't fully leverage Jeon So-ra's image, so we adopted it.
She preferred it too.
Didn't alter the content or tone at all.
Not my taste, but it enriched the visuals.
Justified her running a private equity fund young.
So Han Guk-young and Sa Mo-yeon's chemistry was crucial.
Story-wise, Han Guk-young and Role Model AI take a full third.
Midway, Sa Mo-yeon meddles in e-sports to block Seonghwa Empire wins—poaching players, sponsoring rivals.
If this lands, it's a two-track drama; if not, a one-track with dead weight.
The scene to gauge that...
"Director. Ready."
Was unfolding now.
Act 2, Scene 17.
One year ago, daytime, flashback.
'Korea Venture Investment' headquarters corridor.
Sa Mo-yeon's intro scene.
SCENE: Sa Mo-yeon's First Appearance
Han Guk-young emerges into the corridor, sensing investment failure despite a solid pitch.
Pumps himself up with his usual "Alright, alright!"
Then, from around the cornered hall, the click of high heels.
Clack-clack.
Han Guk-young glances instinctively...
And glamorous Sa Mo-yeon appears.
Spotting him, she pauses briefly, then approaches stone-faced.
"Han? Korea? Venture? Investment?"
"Huh?"
She points to the 'Korea Venture Investment' lettering on the wall.
"Gotta know what failed to help."
"Help?"
"If Han flops, I'll help you leave. If Venture's the issue, find you a better acquirer."
"Why skip investment?"
Sa Mo-yeon, icy glare.
"You're not qualified."
"Me?"
"You run a business but never invested in people? Just your own head."
"Aw, long time no see and this is how you greet me? Missed me?"
Her face hardens at his levity.
"Desperately. Wanted to see you crash."
"..."
"Remember when? First thought watching you scrape server fees, starving."
"Why hate so hard? We go way back."
"What does time matter?"
She steps closer.
"So in there, you valued the time you poured into your company?"
"You're doing it now."
"What?"
"Our company's allure—that's why a chaebol heiress bothers with a guy like me."
"...Know that and sell."
"Expensively. Real expensive. Can't buy off the company that wasted your youth with pocket change."
Han Guk-young slips back with a sly grin.
"Birthday soon, right? Early congrats. Good seeing you."
He passes her.
As they cross, sly playfulness drops from his face, cold resolve settles.
On hers, the faintest smile blooms—so subtle, like a wildflower peeking from concrete, or a fleeting scent.
People rave over singers' high notes, but pros say low tones are way harder.
Acting's the same.
Audiences applaud explosive outbursts, but actors dread bottling emotions inside.
Perfect containment hides it from viewers; sloppy leaks awkwardness.
In that sense, Jeon So-ra's was flawless.
Hate poured out, yet affection scented the gaps.
Why she hates his people-blindness, his starving hustle—but the real reason a chaebol daughter fixates.
All hid in the whitespaces, unspoken.
Incredible.
I could die and revive, still couldn't pull that off.
But senior Min-sik matched her astonishment for astonishment.
Didn't yield to her, didn't get overshadowed.
Acted like wind slipping through claws, no matter her scratches.
Even the final emotional glimpse, perfect.
This scene—nothing flashy on paper—nailed their arcs, as if already knowing.
Despite invisible from Park Seong-hwa's POV, I was convinced.
Script-world Han Guk-young and Sa Mo-yeon wore those faces too.
But the rawest verdict on senior Min-sik's acting wouldn't come from me or the director.
Not fellow actors either.
It was...
The managers scattered around the set.