Casting Call
Dad carefully scanned the contract before glancing at me, then turned his gaze toward Director Lee Jung-moon.
“Thank you for the offer. However, there are a few clauses that need revision.”
“Revisions… which parts?” the director asked, looking puzzled.
Dad smiled with easy confidence and pointed out the changes he wanted.
“Shooting after 10 p.m. is supposed to be off-limits in principle, but I understand you often push through using various loopholes. I’d like that nailed down clearly.”
Lee Jung-moon nodded as if it were obvious and looked at his assistant director, signaling him to make the change before focusing on Dad again.
“For any scenes involving safety risks, I’d like it stipulated that you must obtain prior consent from a guardian. I’ve heard that scripts change constantly on drama sets due to the nature of the production.”
“Of course. An accident would be a disaster for us too. We won’t write scripts that way, and if we absolutely must include such a scene, we’ll make sure to get confirmation first.”
I wouldn’t mind doing wire action or car chases right this second, but to my parents I was like a fragile egg in their nest. The warm feeling of being so loved brought a smile to my face without me even realizing it.
“And… I’ve heard that payment of appearance fees is often delayed under the excuse that it’s ‘industry practice.’ Please specify that payment will be made by the 10th of the following month, with late fees applied for any delays.”
The firm tone of Dad’s voice made the air in the conference room turn chilly for a moment. Assistant Director Kim Min-jae, sitting beside us, looked flustered and kept sneaking glances at the director.
It was 2002. Broadcasters were the ultimate authority, and someone of Lee Jung-moon’s caliber could use actors for free and still have them bowing and thanking him. There was no way a rookie would nitpick so aggressively about payment terms and deadlines.
Now I understood why Ji-ah had sat Dad down last night and drilled him with, “Don’t trust those broadcasting station bastards. You have to be firm about money.” She’d given him a proper brainwashing session, and he was delivering perfectly.
Director Lee Jung-moon stared at Dad for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter.
“Hahaha, sir, do you work in law or accounting by any chance?”
“No, I’m just an ordinary office worker. I simply looked into everything thoroughly because it’s for my daughter.”
“Very well. Min-jae, revise everything exactly as the father requested and print a new copy.”
“Yes? Yes, Director!”
Just as the assistant director was about to rush out in a fluster, I spoke up, thinking it might be worth mentioning.
“Oh, right. I’m also doing one children’s variety show called Kkureogi Tamheomdae. Is that okay? The filming is usually on Saturdays.”
“…Hm? Chul-min’s show?”
“Yes! I happened to get a regular spot on Kim Chul-min PD’s program.”
“Hahaha, I see. Of course someone like you wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by only me. It’s fine. Totally fine. I’ll coordinate the schedule with Chul-min myself.”
The director gave us two enthusiastic thumbs-up.
“I was a bit worried since Seo-ah doesn’t have an agency yet, but I see there was nothing to worry about. The kid is incredibly sharp. Will her mother be coming to the set?”
“Yes. On weekends I’m not sure, but on weekdays my husband will be busy with work, so I’ll be the one accompanying her.”
Getting a manager once I joined a company would be nice, but with only one variety show and one drama, I could handle everything myself. I decided to bring Mom along so she could at least enjoy watching the filming.
“Good. I’ll let the on-site staff know. By the way, I’m sorry for calling you in so suddenly. Normally we don’t cast and sign contracts in a single day, but the schedule is so tight… the situation didn’t allow for much flexibility.”
Director Lee Jung-moon looked genuinely apologetic. His consideration for child actors was truly remarkable. He was so warm that I finally understood why the staff on set always seemed to watch his every move. ‘Even the assistant director was sweating buckets earlier.’
People must have a lot of misunderstandings about him. It’s sad when rumors obscure someone’s true nature. I should try to get closer to him. If others see a rookie child actor like me getting along with him, maybe they’ll recognize his real character too.
While I was thinking about how things might go on set, the meeting had already reached its conclusion.
“Seo-ah will join once Kim Su-jin’s filming wraps up. That should take about a week. In the meantime, just make sure she thoroughly studies the revised script and stays in good condition.”
“Understood. Thank you for your consideration.”
Dad answered politely, and right on cue, the revised contract arrived. He checked it meticulously once more before stamping it with a firm press.
The contract was now officially sealed.
“Well then, let’s wrap things up here for today. See you on set.”
Director Lee Jung-moon stood and offered a handshake. Mom and Dad bowed deeply in thanks, and I followed with a cute little bow of my own.
“Thank you!”
“Alright, Seo-ah. Eat well, sleep deeply, and come ready. See you on set.”
The director ruffled my hair and left the conference room with hurried steps. He looked quite rushed—probably had filming to get to.
Assistant Director Kim Min-jae tried to see us out, but Dad stopped him.
“It’s alright. We can find our own way. You must be busy, so please go ahead with your work.”
“Ah… but still…”
“It’s fine. If the director says anything, just tell him we insisted and you couldn’t refuse.”
“Thank you. I’ll head out first. Please get home safely.”
Dad, who understood the struggles of office life, let the poor assistant director off the hook. Once the two men had left the conference room, Mom and Dad let out simultaneous sighs.
“Whew… I thought I was going to die from nerves.”
“Honey! You were so cool! You said everything you needed to say right in front of the director without getting intimidated at all!”
Mom linked her arm with his, eyes sparkling. Dad laughed sheepishly.
“Haha, well, it’s for our daughter. A father has to step up at least this much.”
Dad’s shoulders were puffed up with pride, and the two of them started gazing at each other with heated looks. Um, excuse me—you do realize this is the drama department conference room, right?
“Ahem!”
“…”
“Haha.”
On the drive home, Dad hummed cheerfully while gripping the steering wheel. I was also riding high on the happiness of legally skipping school on a weekday. Time had already slipped toward lunchtime.
Dad had taken the day off, and I had submitted a field trip form, so today was officially a day of freedom. It meant no need to suffer through mushroom sweet-and-sour pork.
“Seo-ah, what do you want for lunch? Anything you’re craving?”
“Sundae gukbap?! That rich, savory broth with steam rising from the white rice, a couple spoonfuls of salted shrimp to boost the umami, a sprinkle of perilla powder, and one perfect spoonful in your mouth—pure heaven! And absolutely no glass noodles in the sundae. It has to be blood sausage.”
Mom shook her head at my mouthwatering description of sundae gukbap.
“…Why does my daughter sound more like an old man than her own father?”
Dad, who had swallowed hard while listening to my enthusiastic slurping sound effects, simply chuckled as if that wasn’t the important part.
“It’s better that she eats everything well instead of becoming picky and fussy when she grows up.”
“That’s true, but…”
We headed to our usual gukbap restaurant. Of course we ordered the special sundae gukbap with extra assorted sundae on the side. If it weren’t for Yoon Ji-ah, our family probably would’ve gone broke just trying to cover my food expenses.
After quickly polishing off a bowl, we headed to school. We walked around the playground to aid digestion, then I ran around the playground for a while to entertain my carefree parents. Before we knew it, it was 1 p.m. and kids were pouring out through the school gate.
Among them, the prettiest little one stood out immediately. Yoon Ji-ah spotted our family and trudged over.
“I’m here.”
“Our Ji-ah is back?”
Most kids would chatter nonstop about what happened at school or how their friends were the moment they saw their parents, but Ji-ah was different.
“What about the contract? Did you stamp it?”
“Haha, looks like our Ji-ah is happier to see the contract than her mom and dad. Here you go.”
Dad pulled the freshly printed contract from his bag as if he’d expected this. Ji-ah immediately opened the envelope and took it out. With the intense gaze of a tax auditor from the National Tax Service, she scanned every clause.
The only sound was the rustling of pages. Dad watched her nervously. ‘…Is this going okay?’ The scene looked a bit strange, but anyway.
Ji-ah finally nodded in satisfaction.
“It’s perfect.”
“Really?”
Dad let out a sigh of relief and straightened his shoulders. Ji-ah slipped the contract back into the envelope, and Dad finally smiled brightly, looking completely unburdened.
I’d thought the two of them were having some deep discussion about investments or whatever… ‘This kid really trained Dad, didn’t she…?’
At least she still treated him like a proper father in other areas, so I guess I should count that as a blessing. In that case, I should do my part and play the role of the adorable daughter.
I turned to Dad with wide, sparkling, adoring eyes full of aegyo. This was true filial piety.
Dad let out a small laugh at my cuteness and lifted me into his arms.
“Should we eat out tonight?”
“Yeees!”
My filial piety had come back to me in the form of eating out. Jackpot.
Mom, alarmed by my enormous appetite since I was little, had started restricting meat and processed foods. She didn’t ban them completely, but I could only eat about two or three times what Ji-ah ate. For someone like me—full of boundless energy who could run around all twenty-four hours of the day—it was nowhere near enough.
That’s why eating out was always welcome. At least then there were no portion limits.
“Galbi! Pork ribs!”
“Okay, pork ribs it is!”
I could already hear the sizzling sound of meat cooking. The fragrant, savory aroma seemed to fill my nose already. The taste of capitalism was waiting for me.
We arrived at the restaurant right on time for dinner.
“One more serving of galbi!”
“…Again?”
The average eight-year-old probably ate one serving of meat, some stew, and a bowl of rice. Even Ji-ah usually left some rice behind. So for a family of four, ordering four servings plus a few side dishes should have been plenty.
But I, Yoon Seo-ah, was different from those weak children. Dad simply watched with a bright smile as I inhaled the meat. Mom looked on with worry, but I didn’t put down my chopsticks. It still wasn’t enough.
My stomach during this growth period was like the universe—endless no matter how much you filled it. Especially when it came to meat.
I picked up a piece of galbi, wrapped it in lettuce, and popped it into my mouth. Dad kept grilling without pause so the flow wouldn’t break. Mom shook her head but still kept adding more meat to my plate.
What more could you ask for in happiness? This was happiness.
And so the peaceful days continued.
Then Saturday came again. Finally, the day Kkureogi Tamheomdae would air had arrived.