By Zephyria “Stop it. Didn’t you hear what the Director and the Vice President said about that matter?”
Jo Won-tae stepped in with a stern voice, forcing Seo Jun-yeong to shut up, but his sharp gaze, still fixed on Choi Hong-seo, remained.
Choi Hong-seo met Seo Jun-yeong’s gaze without flinching. He had no intention of backing down from something he hadn’t done wrong.
Lee Hae-sung had been a hundred percent right.
He had suffered all along because of people like Seo Jun-yeong. And that suffering had been one of the reasons for his extreme choice.
Humans who had no interest in the truth, who just wanted to enjoy sensational drama with others as material. He had tried to persuade such people, and he was ashamed that he had feared the pronouncements of people who acted as if they were righteous. If it were now, he could simply ignore them and stand his ground…
“Why are our actors’ moods like this? The director is very worried.”
The owner of the gentle tone was Director Kang Woo-hyun.
Picking up a drink, Director Kang moved to the actors’ table and pulled up a chair offered by someone, taking the seat next to Yoon Hye-an. At the director’s appearance, the actors forced smiles onto their faces.
“Everyone, please help our newly joined lead actors, Hye-an and Jun-yeong, adapt well. Even if you can’t tell what they want just by looking at their eyes, you need to be able to communicate to work on a project together. A good film isn’t made just by acting well according to the script, is it? You’d know if you’ve worked on films before. If you can’t connect with the director or your co-stars, it’s just a solo performance.”
At the director’s pointed words, everyone lowered their gaze.
“Speaking of which, Dong-ha and Hye-an, you were from the same group, weren’t you?”
“Yes, Director.”
Park Dong-ha stepped forward and answered cheerfully.
“I heard that today. Neither of you are active in group activities now?”
“Yes, the team… disbanded a few years ago.”
“I see. I’m sorry. I don’t know much about the music industry. It’s a shame, as a group with such handsome members could have done well. Our Dong-ha, who works hard on script research and is diligent, would have succeeded in anything.”
Park Dong-ha smiled shyly at Director Kang’s praise, but he seemed pleased.
“Hye-an, you’ll do well too, right? Since I cast you despite significant opposition, you have to show something. Otherwise, I’ll look foolish in front of our staff?”
Though he appeared to be a kind, good-natured man, Director Kang was not someone who only spoke pleasantries. When he needed to say something, he got straight to the point.
It was true that Yoon Hye-an had a bad reputation in the industry, and from what he had observed so far, it seemed his attitude had indeed been poor enough to earn that reputation. The director’s words were understandable.
“I will work very hard so you won’t be disappointed.”
Choi Hong-seo’s reply earned a satisfied smile from the director.
“Then, Jun-yeong, I need to get to know Hye-an quickly and understand who they are… Hmm, what kind of movies do you two like? Have you seen any impressive films recently?”
Excluding my own work, Director Kang added, looking back and forth between Seo Jun-yeong and Yoon Hye-an.
As Seo Jun-yeong pondered what to answer, Choi Hong-seo saw Lee Hae-sung leaving the private room with a few other production staff members behind him. Choi Hong-seo pretended to drink his beverage and stole a glance at his profile and back. Judging by the cigarette packs in their hands, they seemed to be heading to a place to smoke.
The group around him looked very cheerful. Whatever he had said, laughter erupted at his words. Though he himself was not smiling.
He had said that the intentions of those trying to curry favor with him were mere flattery, but Choi Hong-seo didn’t think that was all there was to it.
Even setting aside his background as the future head of ARA Group, he was sufficiently charismatic. His appearance and aura alone were outstanding, and he had a way of drawing people in. People naturally gravitated towards such a figure. Watching the people leaving the room surrounding him, Choi Hong-seo put down his drink and picked up his liquor glass.
“Recently, I found Crash to be quite interesting, Director.”
Seo Jun-yeong’s answer, after much deliberation.
“Oh… really? David Cronenberg?”
“Yes, he’s a director I’ve always liked.”
“He’s not very well-known in Korea. Many people find him grotesque and repulsive. I myself failed to finish Crash. Jun-yeong, what did you like about Crash?”
“Despite being a horror film, I felt a thrill in glimpsing the director’s unique artistic world, which boldly revealed his auteur tendencies, and in its sharp critique of the capitalist values and human nature that underpin Western society.”
“Hmm…”
As if waiting, Director Kang listened to Seo Jun-yeong, who recited his pre-memorized impressions fluently, and nodded slowly with an ambiguous sound.
“I see. Then, Hye-an? Have you seen any interesting movies lately?”
“I found Love Story to be impressive.”
After Yoon Hye-an’s answer, Seo Jun-yeong and a few others snickered subtly.
They thought it was too cliché. They said it was only remembered because of its good OST, but the scenario was predictable, the direction rough, and the acting unremarkable; it couldn’t be called a well-made film. Choi Hong-seo was aware of these criticisms. In short, it wasn’t a film one would mention if they wanted to give the impression of being a discerning moviegoer. But he didn’t want to lie. Lee Hae-sung was also absent, and he felt it would be alright to speak honestly.
“It’s a film made quite a while ago, so it might be boring for younger people to watch. What part did you find impressive?”
“I can’t explain it theoretically… but the line spoken by Ryan O’Neal, sitting alone in an empty quad, keeps coming back to me.”
“What do you think of a woman who died at twenty-five?”
“Yes…”
Director Kang smiled faintly.
“Many people talk about the line from Love Story, ‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry,’ but… Hye-an, you were struck by an unusual part?”
“……”
“While an objective analytical eye for a work is important, appreciating a film by dissecting, magnifying, discarding, and connecting it from a very personal perspective is also a valid method.”
The interpretation Director Kang added seemed far more sophisticated than his simple impression.
“Since I’ll be seeing you once or twice a week until we start shooting, let’s try to get along well, okay?”
Patting Choi Hong-seo’s back, who was nearby, Director Kang looked around at the actors and then suddenly seemed to recall something, looking up at the ceiling and raising his voice.
“Ah! Come to think of it, I didn’t mention that!”
Gathering everyone’s attention, the director spoke not only to the actors but to everyone present.
“Everyone! We’re planning to expedite the pre-crane ceremony this time.”
People began to murmur.
Director Kang Woo-hyun was also famous for holding a grand ceremony before the film’s principal photography began. It was an internal affair, strictly prohibiting media or external exposure, so it was a story known only within the industry. Last time, when Choi Hong-seo was cast, production was halted during the pre-production phase, so they hadn’t reached the stage of holding the ceremony.
“The film almost fell through once, and as some of you know, I’m a person who obsesses over such things. I feel like I need to pay my respects a bit sooner this time to feel at ease. What does everyone think? Ah, and the Vice President is coming too!”
Director Kang called out to him as he returned from smoking.
At the mention of Lee Hae-sung, Choi Hong-seo felt a pang of guilt, like a child caught doing something wrong.
“We’re planning to hold the pre-crane ceremony a bit earlier this time. What are your thoughts, Vice President?”
Is it just my imagination?
Lee Hae-sung’s gaze briefly lingered on ‘Yoon Hye-an,’ seated next to Director Kang, before returning to the director. It was unclear if the gaze held any significance. Perhaps ‘Yoon Hye-an’ was simply there as his eyes moved. But Choi Hong-seo was certain that for a moment, his eyes had stopped on him, as if pressing down.
“I’m not very knowledgeable about such matters… Please proceed as you feel comfortable, Director.”
As the topic of the ceremony arose, a new energy filled the dinner party.
“So I get to see Director Kang’s famous ritual. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Ritual? Not just a simple ceremony of bowing?”
The actors were all talking about it now.
“A shaman with whom the Director has a deep friendship comes and performs a ritual for warding off bad luck, asking for the film to be shot safely without accidents. They say it’s a famous shaman sought after by chaebols and politicians… There are rumors that the Director is spending 100 million won privately for this film ceremony.”
Choi Hong-seo also knew that Director Kang Woo-hyun was a fervent believer in shamanism. He had heard that the start date for shooting and the film’s release date were decided based on advice from a shaman he trusted.
“That shaman is definitely different from your average amateurs. It’ll be worth watching. I got goosebumps all over.”
“Seonbae, you worked with Director Kang on a previous project, right? You must have seen it already.”
With Jo Won-tae’s eyewitness account added, people’s anticipation grew even higher.
Choi Hong-seo seemed to be the only one not interested in the 100 million won ritual. Whenever he looked at Lee Hae-sung, their eyes met with high probability, making him wonder if the eye contact from earlier was a mistake. Because of that, he couldn’t think of anything else.