Filming (2)
Ryu Cheong-ah was twenty-three, and working life was every bit as hard as people said it was.
Hard in what way, exactly? Mostly in the way you dealt with your coworkers.
...Though this disaster had been of her own making.
Why did I do that?
On the night of the company dinner—already a blur of confusion and despair—Cheong-ah still remembered the terrible things she had done to Jaekyung while drunk.
She had clung to him and whined, grabbed him by the collar and shaken him, and then, with an arm slung around his shoulders, even declared a blood oath of brotherhood. Short of outright assault, she had committed every drunken sin imaginable.
Actually, if she thought about it carefully, collar-grabbing counted as assault too. So really, she had done absolutely everything.
Erase it from your memory. Please...
She had begged, but unlike her pitiful tolerance for alcohol, her memory had remained stubbornly intact.
Some people got drunk and forgot the next day entirely, but if Cheong-ah tried to recall that night, every scene unfolded in perfect chronological order.
That was the fundamental reason she had been like this for two weeks.
Where did things go wrong?
Was it the fact that she had lived her whole life without knowing she got drunk after one or two drinks?
Or that she had happened to sit next to Jaekyung that night?
Or maybe it was because his unfazed reaction had made her anxious for no good reason?
A sigh kept escaping her again and again.
She had already apologized, and he had already told her it was fine, but there was no way she could calm down.
Whenever the thought crept in that he might secretly dislike her, worry rose up before she could stop it, leaving her tense and miserable.
Some trace of unease just refused to leave her chest, and every so often her heart would start thumping for no reason.
Maybe that was why she found herself waiting for a message from Jaekyung, even though he had no real reason to contact her.
But if she texted him again to apologize once more, that would be rude too.
So she had thought maybe, if he contacted her first about work or about that night, she could use it as an excuse to apologize all over again.
Still, even that thought didn’t last long.
No! What am I even thinking?
Cheong-ah pressed both hands to her cheeks and rubbed hard.
She tried to wipe away the miserable expression on her face too.
It was bad enough that she had caused trouble; now she was even thinking these pathetic thoughts about herself, and that only made her feel more pathetic.
Act. At least act. I should be good at that much!
Yes, if she could at least do that properly, then maybe it would be some kind of apology to the person who had written the script.
She was thinking that, trying to get up from her seat no matter what, when—
“Oh! The writer’s here! Let’s all take a break!”
“Whoa, he brought a coffee truck?”
She snapped her head around.
Far off in the distance, a truck was entering the set.
As the cargo bed opened, a mini bar slid out, and Jaekyung got down from the passenger seat.
His curly hair was grown out in a lazy, untamed way, and his indifferent expression softened the sharpness of his face into something almost languid.
His tall, lean frame, paired with a white T-shirt, a thin beige knit coat, and cotton trousers, gave off an unexpectedly fresh, everyday feel.
Cheong-ah suddenly felt her body stiffen.
Just seeing Jaekyung’s face made that night come rushing back.
She stood there, fidgeting and staring blankly on her own.
Jaekyung lifted his head, scanned the area, and found her.
Cheong-ah immediately turned away.
Ah, is that rude too...?
Too late, she realized her mistake.
Before she could do anything else, Youngchan ran over in his socks to greet Jaekyung.
The other staff members, including Byungki, gathered around him as well.
“Writer Han! You came!!!”
“I told you I was coming in advance. Why wouldn’t I show up?”
“Exactly! If you say you’re coming, then you come! That’s how it works, right? That’s just common sense...”
“...Are you all right? Why are you getting teary-eyed all of a sudden?”
“No, no. I’m not usually a crier, but for some reason I feel like I could start tearing up today...”
In an instant, the atmosphere turned noisy and cheerful.
It made sense.
Events like this didn’t happen often on a set.
Especially not on Sword-Bound Gentleman, where most of the cast were rookies or actors with little public recognition. What were the chances that a food truck would be sent here?
And the person who had called it in was none other than the writer himself, so for this moment at least, Jaekyung had no choice but to become the star of the set.
The whole filming site brightened at once.
Even so, Cheong-ah shrank into a corner and fiddled with the edge of her hanbok jacket.
Ugh...
If she went over to apologize and tried to say something, would that only make him more uncomfortable?
All kinds of thoughts swarmed through her head.
Her confidence sank lower and lower, and her shoulders drooped in proportion.
The staff began taking coffee.
The actors joined in too, and it looked like the break would be a long one.
Yeah, maybe it’s better to just stay quiet...
She was just crouching down into her chair when—
Tap.
Someone tapped her shoulder.
Cheong-ah’s willpower had already been whittled down to almost zero, so without even turning around, she answered in a daze.
“Ah, I’m fine. Caffeine doesn’t agree with me...”
“Yes, I know.”
“...!?”
The moment the fine hairs on her body stood on end, she turned—and found Jaekyung right there in front of her.
Still wearing that same detached look, he held out a drink.
“Lemonade. Have something to drink while you work.”
“W-w-wr...!”
“Not writer—just the writer. More importantly, are you not taking it?”
“No! I’ll take it! I’ll take i—!”
...Ah. She bit her tongue.
Why now of all times...!
She squeezed her eyes shut, and then heard the scrape of a chair.
Jaekyung had pulled over an empty seat and sat down, crossing one leg over the other.
“Are you adjusting to filming all right?”
“I-I’m...”
“You can answer slowly. Or not answer at all.”
“N-no...”
“I heard you were still bothered by what happened that day, so I came by.”
His words landed with a strange precision.
It almost sounded like he had come here because of her, but maybe that was just her imagination.
Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
If she kept thinking about it, she’d dig herself into a hole.
Which meant she really had been moping around alone on set, unable to even manage her expression.
“...I’m sorry about that day. Really, I’m so ashamed I can’t even bear to look at you.”
With nothing else to say, she could only keep apologizing, but Jaekyung remained as calm as ever.
“It’s fine. I’m used to handling drunk people. My college seniors were all the type to drink like dogs.”
“Even so...”
“Other than that, anything difficult about the acting?”
“Acting is... I like it! Hyang-dan is a really good character.”
“No need to flatter it for no reason.”
“I mean it!”
That answer was sincere.
Of course, she didn’t have much acting experience, so fully inhabiting a role was still new to her, but the more she got to know Jaekyung’s Hyang-dan, the deeper her charm became.
Maybe not for everyone, but at least for Cheong-ah.
“She feels like a character made just for me...”
Of course that wasn’t true, but it felt that way enough that sometimes, while acting, the sense of unity between her and the role was startlingly strong.
Even while she had been so wilted and drained, acting had a way of making her forget that heaviness entirely.
“No matter what situation she’s in, she never loses heart. Even when things are hard, she tries to smile, and when she thinks tomorrow will be better and it actually is, she can be genuinely happy about it, and those kinds of qualities...”
She had been talking excitedly when she realized Jaekyung was staring at her intently.
Her face went hot.
She ducked her head.
“A-ah, you don’t need to take it that seriously...!”
Jaekyung answered a beat later.
“It’s good to feel connected to the character. That means my script is being expressed in the world through good acting.”
“Ahaha... I’m still lacking a lot.”
Why was she rambling so happily when she hadn’t even had a drink?
Her mouth really had no filter.
But then—
“You’re not lacking.”
“Pardon?”
“I said you’re not lacking. Your acting, Ms. Ryu Cheong-ah.”
At those words, her head lifted.
Had she heard that right?
She was still trying to process it when Jaekyung met her eyes and continued.
“If your acting were bad, I wouldn’t have cast you. You were good—good enough that the level you’re at now cuts straight through the fact that you don’t have much career experience. I don’t entrust my work to people I can’t believe in.”
“Oh...”
“I’m telling you to be confident. I just couldn’t say it when you were drunk.”
All at once, it felt as if her earlobes were burning hot.
Maybe it was because this was the very person she had vaguely thought, from the first moment she saw him, I hope he acknowledges my acting.
Every word seemed to hop and prickle in her ears, startlingly vivid.
Her thoughts loosened for a moment, and her mouth fell open in a daze.
Surprised and deeply moved at the same time, she stared at him without even realizing it was rude.
Then Jaekyung spoke again.
“Please keep working hard. I came to cheer you on because I wanted to tell you that.”
“M-me?”
“Who else? Did you think I came to cheer on the director? He’s the type who gets even more fired up and does better without me anyway.”
With that, it felt as if an invisible fingertip were scratching softly at her heart.
The fine hairs on her body stood up, and a pleasant shiver ran over her skin.
“Anyway, keep up the good work. I only came by for a bit, so I should get going.”
“W-wait, um...”
“Yes?”
Jaekyung, who had been about to stand, paused and looked at her.
Now that she had stopped him, Cheong-ah couldn’t think of what to say next.
Her head was spinning.
Her lips moved, and at last she managed to force out a single sentence.
“I-I’ll really work hard. Seriously...”
Jaekyung gave a dry laugh.
And in the end, he left her with one final line.
“Work hard in moderation. If you collapse, the shooting schedule gets messed up.”
Then he turned and headed back toward the staff.
But she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his back.
Cheong-ah watched him for a long while, and when her throat suddenly felt dry, she drank the lemonade he had given her.
Tart.
Sharp and sour.
And yet—
...Sweet.
It was so sweet and cool that she wanted to keep drinking it.
A refreshing chill wrapped around her body with a pleasant, comforting touch.
* * *
At this rate, was that little sea squirt going to die of shock?
That thought had crossed my mind, so I came by, only to end up seeing a lot of unfamiliar things.
Everyone has to start somewhere, of course, but to me—someone who had only ever known the finished version of Ryu Cheong-ah—the rookie version of her felt almost like a stranger.
Did it work?
She looked like she was doing fine, at least from the way she was grinning and drinking her lemonade.
That should have given off the impression that I didn’t hold any grudge against her.
Of course, the Ryu Cheong-ah I remembered wasn’t this weak-minded.
This was nothing more than my own overactive anxiety, based on knowledge of the outcome, and I’d come here because I didn’t want to be dragged around by it any longer.
Only after it was over did I finally relax, and the tension left my shoulders.
Then a slip of the tongue came back to me late, and I went cold all over.
- Ah, I’m fine. Caffeine doesn’t agree with me...
- Yes, I know.
I’d casually acted like I knew her.
There was no way I should have known about Ryu Cheong-ah’s caffeine sensitivity at this point in time.
It was a miracle she hadn’t noticed.
Anyway, that should be enough. There’s no need for me to interfere with the set any further.
Come to think of it, maybe I shouldn’t have chosen Ryu Cheong-ah at all.
Of course, I had never intended for that thought to last.
No. What’s the point of bringing up the past? And if I’d chosen someone else, I’d have regretted that too.
Regardless of her mental state, Ryu Cheong-ah’s talent was irreplaceable.
The closest thing to her would probably be Seonghun hyung’s mother, Ju Yeongwol, but she was at the age to play a grand lady, not a girl.
I scratched my head hard and shook off the pointless unease.
It’s fine. At this point in time, Cheong-ah doesn’t have any reason to kill herself yet.
I knew Ryu Cheong-ah well.
After she died, I spent a full year chasing down reasons for it.
There were still far more things I couldn’t accept than things I could, but there was also plenty of circumstantial evidence—too much, really.
Right now, though, this was a period when none of those shadows had even reached her yet.
If there was one seed already planted...
...there is one.
My eyes slid toward a corner of the set.
A middle-aged woman dressed in clothes so absurdly luxurious they were almost comical.
Beside her, a middle-aged man wearing a T-shirt with a huge designer logo splashed across it.
They were busy talking to staff and generally making themselves useful on set.
Ryu Cheong-ah’s parents—the only two members of her agency.
“...”
My eyes narrowed.
Even if I just get rid of those two, she’ll be safe for three years, definitely.
It was a fixed matter in the timeline.
If I hadn’t already had that much information, I wouldn’t have chosen Cheong-ah in the first place.
So I had no intention of leaving that fuse alone.
Ding.
Just then, a message arrived.
Now that’s perfect timing.
I wasn’t exactly fond of the guy.
In fact, if I could, I’d rather avoid him entirely—a poisonous snake of a man.
But that’s how the world works, isn’t it?
Even poison can become medicine if you know how to use it.
If it’s a deadly toxin, then depending on how you handle it, it can become a miracle elixir that outlives the ages.
Entertainment reporter Chu Hyeokjae.
He only needed one line of explanation.
[Regarding PD Jo Duho’s sexual favors scandal, the last related work was with...]
[Actress Ryu Cheong-ah—her last phone call before her suicide was to the writer of Sword-Bound Gentleman, which was airing at the time...]
[About the rumors surrounding writer Han Jaekyung.]
In short, he was the worst tabloid rat I knew.
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