Kkureogi Tamheomdae: The Child Who Reads the Room
Kim Chul-min’s mind went completely blank the moment he overheard Park Si-hoo’s foul-mouthed tirade. The kid usually kept his image in check and never acted out so blatantly. So why today, of all days, right in the hallway outside Yoon Seo-ah’s waiting room?
Fuck. He cursed violently inside his head.
He had known Park Si-hoo would cause an accident sooner or later, but he never imagined it would happen today. As a veteran PD who had survived countless unexpected disasters, he still found child actors the most difficult. They were unpredictable—worse than the arrogant adult actresses. At least the adults had some sense of professionalism.
The single worst-case scenario flashing through Kim Chul-min’s mind was simple: Yoon Seo-ah, hurt by the vulgar language echoing down the corridor, bursting into tears with a wail of “Huueng! Bbuueng! I just wanna go home!” She was only eight. It was entirely possible. If that happened, today’s shoot would be over before it even began. The special episode would collapse, he would have to write a formal apology report, and the program would be canceled.
But Yoon Seo-ah’s reaction was completely different.
“Anyway, if I just do well, no one will be able to say a word.”
Her tone carried absolute confidence in herself and the relaxed poise of someone who had perfectly read the entire situation. Bold. Overflowing with self-assurance.
Zero days of broadcasting experience, my ass.
Even Kim Su-jin would have frozen up, cursed, or shown irritation in a situation like this. Yet here was this child unwrapping a chocolate bar, popping it into her mouth, and flashing a smile at the adults.
“It’s fine. The boys in my class say stuff like that all the time.”
From the moment Yoon Seo-ah had first entered the waiting room until now, she had not touched any of the snacks. So why was she deliberately opening chocolate at this exact moment? It was clearly a deliberate act to reassure the adults that she was truly okay and they didn’t need to worry.
Kim Chul-min noticed that the hand shoving the empty chocolate wrapper into her pocket was trembling ever so slightly. In that instant, he realized what he had discovered today was not merely a pretty or cute child. This girl could read the room. She instinctively knew exactly what expression to wear and what words to say to become the protagonist of the situation.
Park Si-hoo, still shouting in the hallway, had already been reduced to a supporting role—no, an extra. Despite the main cast member throwing a tantrum right outside, no one in the waiting room was paying him any attention. The atmosphere of the entire area was already revolving around that small child.
A smile slowly spread across Kim Chul-min PD’s lips.
Today’s shoot… is going to be fun.
The image I needed to project right now was not that of a wounded little girl. Of course I usually milk the fact that I’m an eight-year-old who happens to be pretty, cute, lovable, and adorable in situations like this. But this was a workplace. A place where professionals gathered to film and earn money. I, too, was a bona fide “pro” who had agreed to receive proper compensation for today’s labor.
Letting myself get hurt by a rookie co-star’s childish whining and flipping the entire board? That was out of the question.
The hand inside my pocket, gripping the chocolate wrapper, trembled faintly. A cocktail of self-doubt—Can I actually pull this off?—and groundless confidence—Of course I can—swirled inside me.
It’s shaking.
After all the filming preparations were complete, the cast gathered on the stairs in front of the KBC main building.
“Hello! I’m Yoon Seo-ah, eight years old!”
“…I’m Park Si-hoo. I’m thirteen, so call me oppa.”
Just as expected. Exactly like the guy who had thrown a full-blown fit in the hallway. The moment we met, he dropped all honorifics and even demanded I call him oppa like he was issuing a challenge. That arrogant, insolent attitude almost made me lose my nerve for a second.
“I heard everyone calls each other sunbae-nim on set. I’ll call you sunbae-nim too!”
“…S-suit yourself.”
The strangely weak tone seemed like an attempt to elicit sympathy. His face was already slightly flushed and his voice had dropped, as if he had slipped straight into acting mode. As expected of the entertainment industry—you really couldn’t underestimate these kids. I might have to return the “Ten Thousand Demon Battle” title I earned back in kindergarten.
After finishing greetings with Park Si-hoo and the other little ones who would be my crew for the day, I turned to the staff.
“Hello! Please take good care of me today!”
I made eye contact with each staff member as I bowed. A polite little kid? Who also happened to be pretty, cute, lovable, and adorable? Who could possibly dislike that? Whether I became an actress, a model, or even an idol, reputation was crucial. The importance of image-making only grew stronger with time. Every small action I took now would decide whether I became the subject of personality controversies or the protagonist of heartwarming “she was exceptional from the start” stories.
Warm smiles bloomed on the faces of the staff who received my greeting.
“Aigoo, she’s so pretty. And her manners are perfect.”
“Listen to that clear voice. Now I understand why the PD was praising her so much.”
In contrast, Park Si-hoo gave the staff a half-hearted nod before immediately retreating to his spot and plugging in his MP3 player. I didn’t miss the way several staff members shook their heads at the sight. First impression: overwhelming victory.
“All right, everyone ready? Let’s go on standby!”
Kim Chul-min PD’s booming voice rang out. At the standby signal, the crew took their positions. Five ENG cameras, plus a massive Jimmy Jib. One VJ assigned to the expedition leader and each crew member. A total of eleven cameras surrounded us.
It wasn’t just the cameras. Two PDs, three writers, thirteen camera crew, three lighting technicians, plus sound, props, and makeup teams—roughly thirty people in a large-scale filming crew.
Whew…
I took a deep breath. The hand that had been trembling with nerves had finally steadied itself. A strange excitement and thrill began to wrap around my entire body.
“Three, two, one, action!”
“Hello, rascals! I’m Park Si-hoo, the reliable captain of the expedition! Today we have a brand-new vice-captain with us. Please introduce yourself!”
At the PD’s cue, Park Si-hoo delivered the opening line with practiced ease. A pro was a pro. The whining boy from the hallway and the cynical kid who had faced the staff had vanished without a trace. He opened the show in a tone perfectly suited for a children’s variety program.
Now it was my turn.
When I looked into the camera lens, I could almost see the countless viewers waiting on the other side. I flashed them the best smile I could possibly make. Thank goodness I had practiced in my room. Without that practice, I probably would’ve kept making an awkward grimace until my cheeks cramped up.
“Hello!”
I deliberately paused for a beat before greeting them. My smile was worth a million dollars. I gave every camera time to zoom in on my face and let the viewers focus.
“I’m Yoon Seo-ah, the new vice-captain of the expedition, meeting all of you for the very first time! Nice to meet you!”
I finished my introduction clearly and brightly, then delivered the finishing blow—a wink.
Looking back on my past life, I wondered if there had ever been a moment this cringeworthy. But right now I was an eight-year-old girl. I had nothing to fear.
The entire set fell into momentary silence at my onslaught of cuteness. The silence was broken by the suppressed exclamations bursting from the staff.
“…Insane.”
“What is she? Did she just wink?”
“The camera director looks like he’s having a heart attack.”
Kim Chul-min PD, who had been watching the scene, stood there with his mouth wide open, laughing. Baek Eun-hee, the writer, was shouting “Jackpot! Total jackpot!” while frantically scribbling in her notebook. Even Park Si-hoo, who was supposed to continue hosting, looked visibly flustered by my completely unexpected performance.
Had he assumed I would fumble my introduction and mumble awkwardly?
While Park Si-hoo stood there stuttering, I seized the moment and delivered the next line.
“Captain! Where are we exploring today?”
What was there to hide? I had spent the last few days watching every rerun of Kkureogi Tamheomdae in preparation. No script? Then the previous episodes featuring Kim Su-jin and Park Si-hoo were my script. No variety experience? Then the previous episodes of Park Si-hoo and Kim Su-jin were my experience.
Kim Su-jin and Park Si-hoo were monsters born from competing for screen time. Stealing lines from each other was basically routine. I had immediately caught on after watching episodes where one would deliver the other’s lines and flash a victor’s smile.
This place was a jungle. A world of taking and being taken from, eating and being eaten. Survival of the fittest. Winner takes all.
Sorry, my beloved little sister Yoon Ji-ah, but it’s time for some hierarchy enforcement.
“Oh! The place we’ll be exploring today is right here! The KBC Broadcasting Station!”
Park Si-hoo spread his arms wide toward the main building as he continued. The camera was probably zooming out right now to capture the entire structure.
“Dear viewers, are you ready to explore every corner of the station with me, Vice-Captain Seo-ah, and the rest of the crew?”
He had stumbled at the start, but like the veteran he was, he kept the flow going. The moment he finished, I stole the spotlight again.
“Just a moment, Captain!”
Once again, every camera and every staff member’s gaze snapped toward me. Park Si-hoo stared at me with an incredulous expression. Technically I had cut off a senior’s line, but I didn’t care. I was a broadcasting rookie with zero days of experience. An eight-year-old baby on her first variety shoot. A one-time substitute. I was in a position where almost anything I did could be forgiven.
And today was the only day I could get away with it.
I had been slightly worried that some staff might side with Park Si-hoo out of professional loyalty, but thanks to the good impression I had built earlier, most of them seemed to be on my side. Actually, judging by their “she’s so cute I’m dying” expressions, it was safe to say they were all on my side.
It also told me exactly how rude Park Si-hoo usually was during shoots.
“It looks like we haven’t introduced our adorable crew members yet! Exploration isn’t something you do alone—it’s about everyone working together, right?”
My words sent another ripple through the set.
Look at that line… you’d think someone wrote it for her.
She’s not just protecting her own screen time—she’s bringing the other kids in too?
She’s really not ordinary. Park Si-hoo looks like he can’t do anything.
I could hear the staff whispering. I couldn’t catch every word, but the context was clear. Everything was going according to plan.
Of course, none of this was in the script, and it wasn’t the progression Park Si-hoo had intended. But Kim Chul-min PD didn’t call cut. Instead, he watched the situation with sparkling, intensely interested eyes.