By Zephyria On the monitor, Baek Kang is lying next to Lee Sol on her bed. Baek Kang is lying on his side, looking at her, while Lee Sol faces the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze. She clasps her hands together in front of her chest, as if resolutely refusing someone’s approach…
“So, is it okay if you just sleep next to me?”
A voice, so faint it could extinguish at any moment, trying desperately to hide a wounded heart.
Baek Kang’s gaze, which cannot meet hers and only looks at her unilaterally, wavers on the monitor.
Han Joo-young, standing next to Song Hyun-soo and watching the monitor together, covers her mouth to stifle a sound. Song Hyun-soo clenches his fist and swallows dryly.
On screen, Sol-i finally speaks, her lips parting with difficulty.
“Wouldn’t that be difficult? Today, maybe… you should just sleep at your place…”
Her eyelids blink rapidly, her breathing irregular. Her pain, torn between her already swayed heart and guilt, is palpable. Even her parched lips seem like part of Shin Hyo-jin’s performance.
Filming is in full swing in Sol-i’s room.
S#78. Sol-i’s Room (Late Night)
This was the scene they had acted out on the day Song Hyun-soo first did script practice work at Yoon Joo-ho’s house. It was also the day he first witnessed Yoon Joo-ho acting with genuine emotion, beyond just reading lines. That day, Song Hyun-soo had shed tears, empathizing with Baek Kang’s emotional arc.
But now, watching this scene unfold on set as a complete scene created by Baek Kang and Lee Sol, the admiration as a fellow actor was even greater. He wanted to absorb all their know-how, not missing a single moment.
“It’s not like I’m here just to sleep with you.”
Baek Kang’s long fingers cautiously brush against Lee Sol’s hair and cheek, as if he were too afraid to touch her.
“I think I’d be happy just watching you like this until I fall asleep.”
Song Hyun-soo momentarily glanced at the director sitting in front of the monitor at the ad-lib, which differed from the original dialogue. However, instead of calling to stop the acting via radio, he continued to watch the screen.
“Are you afraid of falling asleep because you think it might be a dream?”
Baek Kang’s smile was as faint as sea foam, about to dissipate at any moment.
Whether it was planned in advance or an ad-lib that arose from the natural emotional flow during the performance, Yoon Joo-ho was subtly changing the lines.
Lee Sol’s face, which had stubbornly been looking at the ceiling, slowly turns towards Baek Kang. He tries to smile at her, pulling his lips up a little more, but to the viewer, it looks like a smile of someone crying. It was because of the light shimmering and wavering in Yoon Joo-ho’s eyes. How could one act with such eyes?
“I feel like I need to escape through the window before Sani bursts in tomorrow morning.”
“……”
“Like when we were kids.”
It was as if those words, from a time when everything was still intact, were implied behind Yoon Joo-ho’s expression.
Director Jeong Joon-hee, who had been watching the monitor, slowly brought the walkie-talkie to his lips.
“Cut. Okay.”
As the director uttered “Okay,” Han Joo-young and Song Hyun-soo looked at each other. They let out a long sigh, as if they had acted it themselves. Han Joo-young shook her head, and Song Hyun-soo fanned his wrists to cool the sweat that had gathered in his fist.
Thus, the first filming of
With flushed faces, their excitement still high, Han Joo-young said,
“It was a scene that relied entirely on emotion. I watched with immense concentration.”
“Me too.”
As Han Joo-young arrived near the end of the mealtime, Song Hyun-soo watched Yoon Joo-ho and Shin Hyo-jin’s performances from behind the monitor. Due to the size of Lee Sol’s room, the director’s monitor room had to be set up in the living room. It was a shoot where the number of staff entering and exiting was minimized to allow the two actors to fully immerse themselves in their emotions.
“Thinking about having to act against those two… I suddenly feel fired up?”
He had expected a remark like ‘my motivation suddenly disappears,’ but it was the opposite. As if to prove his words, Han Joo-young looked remarkably energetic for a time past midnight.
“Their experience, their talent. We’ll be outmatched anyway. But still, it’s better to work with actors who are good at acting, isn’t it, Hyun-soo-ssi?”
“That’s right. Even if we’re outmatched, we should at least gain something.”
Until now, he hadn’t felt much even watching the lead actors’ performances. He had only felt envious seeing top stars arrive with three or four managers, retreat to their cars like kings after their scenes were done, and then make demands about the set through the assistant director.
And he had thought Yoon Joo-ho was the epitome of such a top star.
But now… he was filled with a desire to absorb everything he saw here and make it his own.
“Director, you’re joining us for drinks at the accommodation, right?”
Han Joo-young, seeing Director Jeong Joon-hee rise from his seat, spoke to him warmly.
“What are you talking about? It’s past midnight.”
“Are you going to let the first day of shooting just pass? We have to celebrate! And please give me some advice for tomorrow’s scene.”
“So that was your goal?”
Director Jeong laughed cheerfully. His expression and laughter suggested he was satisfied with the day’s shoot.
The house of Lee Sol and Lee San, which had been silent, became bustling with the movements of the staff cleaning up. Yoon Joo-ho, wearing a padding jumper, came out of the room after exchanging thanks with the staff.
All the actors and staff, everyone entering and exiting this place, wore similar black long padding jackets, but finding Yoon Joo-ho was incredibly easy.
He was tall enough that his face loomed above most people’s heads, and even after hours of intense filming, his face radiated a glow. It was impossible not to look at him. Of course, he looked tired, but it didn’t make him look pathetic. Rather, it only gave him an air of melancholy.
He too spotted Song Hyun-soo standing in the living room. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they exchanged a powerful glance without any other greeting.
“Good work, Sol-i, Kang-i.”
Song Hyun-soo had made eye contact first, but it was natural for the director to greet them first. As Yoon Joo-ho accepted the handshake requested by the director, he said,
“I honestly didn’t think you’d call the third take okay. I was surprised.”
“The change in lines?”
“Yes. I tried it knowing I might get a scolding over the radio for being presumptuous.”
“We shot the scene as written in the script in the earlier takes, so I don’t know which one will be used.”
In a friendly atmosphere, they all headed out of the set. They wanted to leave quickly so as not to get in the way of the staff cleaning up.
“Senior, we should have a beer with the director and everyone,” Han Joo-young urged Yoon Joo-ho as they walked side-by-side towards the lot where the actors’ cars were parked. However, Yoon Joo-ho’s reaction was indifferent.
“Joo-young-ssi, you’re energetic because you didn’t have any scenes today. After filming for seven hours, what kind of drinking are you talking about?”
“Still, it’s the first day, just one drink. Let’s just toast, just a toast.”
“The way you talk lately, you sound like a complete Korean native. Are you really from America?”
Yoon Joo-ho looked down at Han Joo-young, who grinned with a suspicious expression.
Watching the two of them bicker yet somehow grow closer, Song Hyun-soo followed behind, his hands shoved into the pockets of his padding jumper.
Just a few hours earlier, during the break after their meal, Yoon Joo-ho had called Song Hyun-soo into his sprinter. He had insisted, in front of everyone at the restaurant, using the excuse of getting to know each other as the director had instructed.
Yoon Joo-ho’s sprinter was as incredible as the rumors said. The two seats in the second row were equipped with wider limousine seats than those in the Escalade, along with electric tables for comfortable dining, a refrigerator, a 43-inch monitor, and a home theater-level audio system. Furthermore, the partition separating the driver’s seat from the rear was changed to magic glass, providing perfect privacy. When the TV monitor was lowered, it offered double, even triple, layers of protection.
Yoon Joo-ho was sitting in the third row. The third row had a continuous seat, like the second row of a regular car, rather than limousine seats. There, Yoon Joo-ho lay down with his head on Song Hyun-soo’s lap, closed his eyes.
‘Are you sleeping?’
‘I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit.’
‘Should I wake you in 10 minutes?’
‘Okay.’
He answered like that with his eyes closed, then took Song Hyun-soo’s wrist and placed the palm of his hand over his own eyes.
His long eyelashes, which had been fluttering and tickling his palm, soon grew still. Surprisingly, he fell asleep in less than 2-3 minutes.
The 10-minute break was sweet for Song Hyun-soo too. Enough to melt away his fatigue. Enough that he didn’t feel resentful even if Yoon Joo-ho had to prioritize others over him.
Walking with his head bowed, grinning inside the collar of his padding jumper, Yoon Joo-ho, who was walking ahead, suddenly turned back.
“Hyun-soo-ssi, let’s move in my car.”
“…Yes?”
“You heard the director. He said we need to get close enough to touch each other like our own skin. We should stick together as much as possible.”
Yoon Joo-ho said this seriously, without changing his expression. Perhaps thinking Song Hyun-soo, who couldn’t answer immediately, was flustered, the people around them started to laugh.
Han Joo-young and Shin Hyo-jin teased him, asking if he was using the director’s excuse to call Yoon Joo-ho to his car and torment him. Song Hyun-soo could only offer an awkward laugh. It was a tricky situation; if asked if he was being tormented, he could say yes, but since he didn’t dislike it, he could also say it wasn’t torment.
Song Hyun-soo sent his manager ahead and followed Yoon Joo-ho to his sprinter.
He was waiting in the third row. Resting his elbow on the window frame, he tapped the adjacent seat and grinned.
The sprinter’s door was tightly shut, the magic mirror blocked the view from the driver’s seat, and the blinds were down on all the windows. Yet, Song Hyun-soo glanced around nervously before approaching him.
“I told you to go to the accommodation and rest first.”
“Still, it’s the first day, so I wanted to stay until the end. I also wanted to witness the seniors’ acting firsthand.”
Yoon Joo-ho gave a short laugh, crossed his arms, and rested his temple on Song Hyun-soo’s shoulder.
“So. How were your impressions from watching?”
His voice, slightly languid with fatigue, was pleasant to hear.