Chapter 150
Translator: uly
Chapter: 150
Chapter Title: Watch It Twice, Watch It Thrice (1)
Ki Han-hyang’s analysis sounded pretty damn convincing. He was hitting on points I hadn’t even considered, and listening to him made it feel like the whole movie had been shot with meticulous planning.
Of course, *Intent Discernment* showed me the script didn’t quite suggest that level of scheming. In my view, Director Ji preferred to follow his instincts over rigid plans. He looked like a bear, but he had a knack for digging deep into people’s emotions. His appearance, actions, words, and thought process all seemed so gentle, yet the results were astonishing even to me. Director Ji was a genius.
*Even if it wasn’t intentional, good results are what matter, right?*
Well, interpretations often outshine the dream itself. It reminded me of those college entrance exam questions from a few years back. Probably the reading comprehension passages in Korean. Something like this: They once gave a poet—the very author of a poem that frequently appeared in exams—the problems based on their own work. Everyone expected the original creator to ace it. But nope, they bombed every single one.
Director Ji would probably just blink in confusion if he heard that. But he wasn’t here, so whatever. That’s what I thought, oblivious to whatever inner turmoil Ki Han-hyang was going through under my intrigued gaze.
“Wow, you really enjoyed the movie. And not just because I’m the lead—I’m truly thrilled as an actor that you watched it so closely.”
What snapped him out of it was Yeon Do-hee’s genuine admiration. She wasn’t freaking out like I half-expected; instead, both of us were looking at him with real awe, which made Ki Han-hyang’s cheeks flush ever so slightly.
What do you call this...? His ultimate fave, maybe? Getting seal claps from someone calling you amazing—it had to feel good. The PD and writers’ expressions turned a bit weird watching him beam, but Ki Han-hyang didn’t care one bit.
The atmosphere had grown far friendlier than when we started.
“Personally, this is what I thought after watching the movie.”
“I’m nervous... but also looking forward to hearing it.”
“Why were you nervous?”
“Yeah, why was that? Because it’s been a while since my last film?”
Ugh. Ki Han-hyang swallowed bitter tears inside at those words. The rumor that Yeon Do-hee was stuck with an incompetent manager, suffering beneath her talent level, had spread like wildfire in Chungmuro.
*My Yeowon-i... Let’s walk the flower path from now on...!*
Oblivious to how deep his own obsession ran, Ki Han-hyang chose his next words carefully to comfort her.
“Anyone who watches this movie will probably think the same as me.”
“And what’s that?”
“That it’s a shame Do-hee-ssi only appeared in it now.”
“Ahaha! Han-hyang-ssi, you’re too funny! We can keep watching from here on out, right?”
“Of course.”
He’d slammed her useless agency while pinpointing exactly why she hadn’t succeeded in films before. Anyone who cared about Yeon Do-hee would pick up on that backstory and his intent.
“Here’s my recommendation. First watch: Don’t overthink—just go with your feelings. Second: Dive into the emotional arcs. Third: Notice the little details scattered throughout. Each time, the emotions you feel will be totally different.”
Yeon Do-hee laughed at his serious claim that you had to watch it three times to get the full flavor.
“Thanks to you, Han-hyang-ssi, our movie’s hitting ten million, huh?”
“Isn’t that obvious? Anyway, your chemistry is insane in the film—and even now, it’s electric. It’s like Yeowon-i and Joo-young are standing right in front of me. If you two slipped back into those roles right now, what would you do?”
Ki Han-hyang thought to himself: *This isn’t for my selfish reasons...! It’s just to show everyone the vibe...! Purely for the public good.*
His expectations were creeping in—a lot—but still.
“Right now? It’s a bit embarrassing...”
Even as she said it, Yeon Do-hee composed herself calmly, already looking like Yeowon-i in his eyes. She gave a slight nod first. As if some silent agreement passed between us, I slowly lowered my gaze. Then, like I was holding something back, I bit my lip lightly.
*Oh my god.*
Not a word was spoken. Yet in Ki Han-hyang’s eyes, Yeowon-i and Joo-young were right there. My hesitant fingertips hovered in the air, drumming softly, inching toward Yeon Do-hee’s face without quite touching. Finally, my hand gently brushed her cheek. My expression was complex—on the verge of tears, or maybe a smile. Hard to pin down.
What sealed it was another hand layering over mine on her cheek.
“......”
“......”
No words from either of us, but our faces—baring every emotion—and the touching hands spoke volumes. Our straight gazes locked, heavy with feeling.
How long did we stay like that? Ki Han-hyang thought: *Well done, me. Asking for that was genius!*
Watching Yeowon-i and Joo-young’s tangled emotions, their unavoidable pull toward each other—it hit raw and unfiltered from inches away. His heart? Straight-up *doomed*.
That’s probably why.
“...Is this enough?”
When my voice broke through, Ki Han-hyang snapped to, fumbling names in a way that wasn’t like him at all.
“Wow... It really felt like Yeowon-i and Joo-young were here! I felt it during the movie too, but your chemistry is no joke. Especially when Joo-young-ssi takes control—Yeowon-ssi’s reaction is just... They communicate without words. Viewers will get why I’m reacting like this. No need for talk between these two.”
He pulled himself together fast and kept talking. Clap clap! The FD shouted big.
“Cut for a sec!”
“Huh? We were doing great—why stop?”
Ki Han-hyang snapped at the sudden break. The PD answered.
“Han-hyang-ssi. You mixed up names.”
“Huh?”
“The names. You used the characters’.”
“...Me?”
“The take’s not bad, but let’s redo it.”
...For real? An unbelievable slip-up. Shooting resumed soon after. Luckily, the warm vibe held till the end. He mixed up character names a few more times, but overall, it worked out great.
“Like Yeonwoo-ssi said, Han-hyang-ssi isn’t scary at all. Super fun, actually. First critic this entertaining.”
Ki Han-hyang’s image in our eyes had flipped completely. For him, desperate to leave a good impression, it was a silver lining amid the mess.
“I don’t get why my friends hate him so much...”
Yeon Do-hee tilted her head, waving as she headed out first. “Rest up—we’ll see you at Samsung Station tomorrow!”
Our next schedule was nearby: the first stage greeting. Finally. Release day had arrived.
*
“Uwaaaah. Why am I more nervous than the premiere?”
“Director Ji looks dead.”
“Can’t blame him. First time he’s been swarmed by this many people in his life?”
After somehow surviving the stage greeting, the film team emerged to a mob. Without the theater’s hired security, it could’ve been chaos. Some who’d already seen it stuck around, red-eyed fans standing out.
“But our movie... it’s gonna do well, right?”
Pushing through the crowd should’ve exhausted him, but Director Ji’s weary face shone with anticipation over fatigue.
“Word was building from the premiere... But seeing the reactions explode post-release? I could die happy now.”
A staffer muttered; the assistant director shot back.
“Nope. Die now, and we miss more greetings.”
“Oh, right.”
“Director Ji, grab some proper ginseng tonic and stash it. Gotta stay sharp tomorrow.”
One actor joked, “Shouldn’t we brew you some? Yeowon-i and Joo-young stole the spotlight more than you.”
“Sigh. Knew it’d blow up—popped a calming pill just in case.”
“Gotta feed you something thinking of the nationwide tour tomorrow.”
“Survived death’s door just to crash at the peak? What a waste.”
The bond forged in near-death camaraderie kept things heartwarming despite the exhaustion.
“Feels like I’ve slept enough already. Can’t wait to see reactions.”
“On pins and needles till opening scores drop.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t feel real yet. Gotta wait. What if it’s just a flash in the pan?”
A strong start. But anxiety lingered. Word from screenings built hype—if it disappointed, backlash could tank it. High expectations mean big letdowns. Crashing after climbing hurts more.
“Let’s stay calm. Plenty of time to celebrate once we’re on track.”
That’s probably why. Why I’d grown fond of these people. On the cusp of huge success, not one showed arrogance.
*It’ll succeed.*
I murmured it silently to myself. And as if echoing that, the brewing word-of-mouth ignited like wildfire on dry grass.
*
In cinephile Korea, genre doesn’t matter—if it’s fun, buzz revives even shrinking screens. Marketing can bury it, but once word spreads, it shines late. Fun absolves all; boredom damns. Big budgets flop mercilessly. Low-budget gems draw crowds, forcing distributors to add theaters.
No need to elaborate for *The Most Beautiful Days*, buzzing “fun” from the start.
[Watch The Most Beautiful Days twice, thrice. Watch it lots.]