Sapi-jeong's Child Actor
After work, Kim Dae-ri finished his shower and sprawled across the sofa, taking lazy sips from the can of beer in his hand.
“Let’s see… time… Ah, perfect.”
It was exactly the broadcast time for the drama The Garden Where Love Blooms. Only two days earlier, the moment he heard it was directed by Lee Jung-moon and written by Im Eun-su, he had rushed to tune in without a second thought.
“The Age of Passion was a once-in-a-generation masterpiece.”
Kim Dae-ri, a self-proclaimed drama maniac, had extremely particular tastes. He especially loathed forced melodrama, acting so bad it broke the flow, and any drama that featured child actors. Even though The Garden Where Love Blooms included child-actor segments in its first two episodes, he had no choice but to endure them if he wanted to follow the narrative and emotions into the adult arcs.
‘The child-actor part is finally over!’
His heart raced. He couldn’t tell whether the fierce pounding came from the temporary buzz of the beer or dopamine overload from the drama.
“It’ll jump straight into the adult part now, right? I’d be disappointed if they’re still dragging out the kid stuff.”
The previous night’s episode had ended on a slightly ambiguous note. It could have continued with the children, shifted to a more grown-up tone, or cut directly to the adults. At the exact moment Park Sang-jun resolved to confess to Jung So-young, his family had forced him abroad, leaving him no choice but to leave Korea without even saying goodbye to his friends. Of all days, it had to be the one when he had plans with Jung So-young.
Jung So-young, who had secretly been waiting for that confession, returned home disappointed. Episodes one and two had focused on the innocent puppy love between the pair and So-young’s painful family circumstances, so he had wondered where the story would go next. But with that Lee Jung-moon and that Im Eun-su at the helm, he wasn’t worried.
Elementary-schooler Jung So-young lay down under her blanket, trying to sleep. The instant the scene transitioned to the next day, Jung So-young had become an adult. The camera swept across a house that had completely changed. Where family photos once hung, a wedding picture now appeared. On the wall above the sofa, in the spot once filled with Jung So-young’s childhood memories, ultrasound images gave way to yearly photos of a growing child named Bom-i, lined up in neat rows.
“Whoa!”
He had expected the child-actor portion to end and the adult story to begin. The preview had even shown Oh Yoon-hee and Lee Hyun-woo arguing. Still, he had assumed the drama would ease into it gradually, perhaps showing middle school, high school, or college years. It would have been fine if it simply jumped ten years ahead to show Jung So-young working.
Instead, it dropped her straight into motherhood.
“Wait, what? Suddenly she’s a mom… why is she a married woman all of a sudden…”
The pairing of Im Eun-su—the writer said to transcend eras—and Lee Jung-moon—the man called the god of directing—was sensational in every sense.
“…Feels like ten years too early. Ah, my beer.”
Stunned by the development, Kim Dae-ri had forgotten to drink the can still in his hand. The progression was shocking, yet it didn’t feel unpleasant or off-putting. On the contrary, it hooked his interest.
Had Park Sang-jun, who went abroad to study, returned and married her? Or was it another man? Then who was the husband? Why weren’t they showing him? And why was Jung So-young still living in this run-down neighborhood that reminded her of her painful past?
“Ha, that crafty writer Im Eun-su.”
After singing her praises, Manager Kim gulped down the rest of his beer before it grew warm and kept watching. The child’s photo on the refrigerator had been a clear warning that the child actor he hated would appear, but the shock of married Jung So-young had kept the realization from sinking in.
The screen now painted the shabby yet cozy neighborhood. In this place saturated with Jung So-young’s unhappy childhood, a district steeped in both love and resentment, her peaceful daily life running the flower shop ‘Fragrance Garden’ unfolded.
She rose at dawn to visit the flower market, greeted customers at the shop, and mingled comfortably with the locals. Jung So-young was energetic and lovable, the complete opposite of the introverted, timid girl who had suffered quiet bullying from her friends.
Across from the flower shop stood a café run by her childhood friend Park Sang-jun. The bold part-timer knew about his boss’s long-held crush on the flower-shop owner and teased him every day to make a move.
Thanks to the foundation laid by the child actors in the first two episodes, every glance Park Sang-jun gave Jung So-young felt even more tender.
“But didn’t he go abroad to study? Why run a café in a place like this? Your family was rich, wasn’t it?”
Completely absorbed, Dae-ri muttered to himself like he was talking to a friend and fetched another can from the fridge. The drama’s early episodes were pure, romantic, and lightly comedic slice-of-life.
Before long the sun began to set, and closing time arrived at Fragrance Garden.
‘Here it comes.’
The entire first half had been the calm before the storm—far too quiet. But a drama could not flow this gently. It must not. There had to be conflict with a villain, love and farewell, affection and hatred, touching moments and betrayal.
‘…Adultery might be pushing it. Pfft.’
His decade of drama-watching experience told him that if something was going to explode, it would be now.
Jung So-young finished closing up and began arranging the leftover flowers.
The camera closed in on her hand gently stroking each petal. Then came the sound of a car braking. At first she thought it was a late customer, but the luxury sedan that pulled up did not belong in this neighborhood. A man dressed in clothes equally out of place stepped out, accompanied by an entourage.
Kang Tae-hyun, the second-generation chaebol who needed to successfully redevelop this district to earn his father’s approval, gave So-young three months to vacate and offered triple the penalty fee along with a check.
“Triple the penalty plus ten million won? I’d have bowed.”
Though the drama had not yet revealed it, the shop was So-young’s dream, her sanctuary with Bom-i, and the last promise she had made to her late husband. She could not hand it over to a man who dismissed it as “some store.” So-young hurled the check at Tae-hyun’s face and stood her ground.
Their faces flushed with anger as they glared at each other, voices rising.
“Wow, I’m already regretting it.”
Kim Dae-ri nodded at Oh Yoon-hee’s raw delivery and emotional depth while watching from the perspective of an ordinary viewer.
“Wait, you’re regretting it too, aren’t you? Triple the fee and ten million? You could just open somewhere else nearby. No moving costs either.”
“Yeah. She really is.”
In the end, Kang Tae-hyun—unaccustomed to such situations—backed down first. Rather than waste mental energy here, he would settle it with law and money.
Just then, beyond the shop door, the silhouette of Bom-i skipping happily came into view. As she drew closer to the store, her steps gradually slowed and her expression hardened. The moment she reached the entrance, she came face-to-face with Kang Tae-hyun stepping out.
A cold gaze turned toward the little girl, but the child met his eyes without flinching.
“Oh shit… here we go.”
Kim Dae-ri’s brow furrowed. ‘They were doing so well and now they’re pouring cold water on it.’ She would probably start whining “Mommy!” the moment she saw Kang Tae-hyun or deliver some clichéd line that ruined the mood.
“It’s ruined. Totally ruined. Should I change the channel…”
He had been watching with high expectations for Lee Jung-moon, Im Eun-su, and Oh Yoon-hee, but the moment a child actor appeared, his mood sank. A medical drama he usually caught in reruns was airing on the next channel. His hand was already reaching for the remote when the little girl on screen stepped in front of Kang Tae-hyun.
“…She’s really, really cute.”
She was easily the best child actor he had ever seen. If she was already this good at that age, what would she be like when she grew up? Even right after seeing Oh Yoon-hee—called Korea’s greatest beauty—the little girl’s face seemed to glow.
But that was as far as it went.
“A kid’s a kid. A child actor is just a child actor, not a real performer.”
The little girl had clearly seen the man arguing with Jung So-young and her expression had stiffened on her way over. Yet instead of crying or whining, she opened with an unexpected line.
Kim Dae-ri slowly lowered the finger that had been hovering over the channel button. There was none of the artificial tone typical of child actors. No wooden, emotionless, textbook reading. The delivery was completely natural, exactly like a real neighborhood kid speaking.
While Kang Tae-hyun touched his face, searching for whatever was on it, the little girl clicked her tongue.
“Pffft!”
Kim Dae-ri nearly spat out his beer. Kang Tae-hyun was obviously the second-generation chaebol and male lead. More than that, he had sharp, intimidating features—devastatingly handsome in the exact way a rich heir should look. Yet she had called him ugly to his face, wearing an impish, bold expression while she did it.
On screen, Kang Tae-hyun let out a stunned laugh and stared at her in disbelief.
Bom-i pulled something from her pocket and placed it in Kang Tae-hyun’s hand. It was a crumpled lollipop.
For a second, Kim Dae-ri thought of his boss pressing taxi money into his palm. Every defense shattered by a single ten-thousand-won bill—only this time it was candy.
Kang Tae-hyun froze. Kim Dae-ri froze too. Without realizing it, he sat up straight on the sofa, staring at the TV in perfect posture.
That kid was no ordinary child.
“…Who is she?”
Only a minute earlier he had been about to change the channel because of the child actor. Now he was dying to know who she was—her name, her previous work. The only child actor who didn’t trigger his usual aversion. Kim Dae-ri began to burn with curiosity.
The moment the drama ended, he dashed into his room and turned on the computer. He went straight to the official drama homepage and opened the viewer bulletin board.
The bulletin board had exploded into chaos. Exactly two minutes later, the server crashed.