“Director, is something wrong?”
During a brief break, Jo Yeonchul, the assistant director, cautiously approached Director Lee Seungheon, who was looking over the storyboard for the next shoot.
“Hm? What is it?”
Lee Seungheon tried his best to react casually, but even he knew his demeanor was rather awkward.
Jo Yeonchul, who couldn’t have missed that, smiled sheepishly.
“No, it’s just… your expression doesn’t look very clear. Are you not satisfied with today’s shoot?”
“Well…”
He should have immediately said that wasn’t the case.
But once again, Lee Seungheon missed the timing perfectly and let out a long sigh.
He wanted to spill everything that was on his mind, but it wasn’t exactly the right moment.
‘Once I start talking, it’ll inevitably turn into gossip about the actors.’
Besides, he hadn’t even talked to the person involved yet.
Maybe after speaking with the actor directly, but certainly not now.
“No, it’s just something bothering me. I’m trying to sort out my thoughts first.”
“Ah, understood. Please rest then.”
The assistant director immediately understood Lee Seungheon’s wish to be alone and quickly left.
Lee Seungheon let out a short laugh at how well Yeonchul read his mood.
But that smile slowly faded away.
“Ha…”
He sighed deeply and looked back at the storyboard resting on his thigh.
Four people gathered around the table.
He scanned the round faces with just one character written on them, stopping at one.
Chul.
The name written at the top of the circle.
Lee Seungheon clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and his tongue.
If someone asked if he was satisfied with today’s shoot, Lee Seungheon would hesitate briefly, then answer mostly yes.
If pressed to be precise, he would sigh again and shake his head.
He wasn’t satisfied.
That was Lee Seungheon’s honest feeling. ‘Is it… because of bad acting?’
If he had answered Yeonchul truthfully, this question would have come back.
But the answer was too clear. ‘No.’ Bad acting wasn’t the cause of this dissatisfaction. The cause was not Yoo Chaemin.
The cause was… Ji Minseong. He was someone he never thought would be a problem. When filming the earlier scene with just Yeo Eunsu, it wasn’t like this.
Ji Minseong felt a bit overshadowed by Kim Eunhye’s acting, but it wasn’t that bad.
But after finishing today’s shoot, even the previous scenes started to look different.
More precisely, it was like the problems he had been deliberately ignoring were now in plain sight. ‘Why? Why doesn’t the character come alive?’ In the scene where all the former members of gathered, Ji Minseong was the only one who seemed invisible.
His lines weren’t insignificant, and among the members, Yeo Eunsu was the most actively reacting character.
Yet none of it brought the character Kim Cheolsu to life.
Han Yuri depicted Eunsu’s complex emotions toward Ibo Na with lively charm, and Jung Heeseok showed Jang Gwangcheol’s presence with just a few lines.
Yoo Chaemin… “Tsk.” He stood out more than Ji Minseong. Without realizing it, Lee Seungheon pressed his forehead.
Thinking about Yoo Chaemin gave him a headache and made his stomach uneasy.
Today’s Yoo Chaemin was, how should he put it, very irritating. Even if he just appeared at the edge of the frame, he strangely drew the eye.
He was cowering like Jung Bongsik should, but he fidgeted alone.
Yet that behavior didn’t stand out at all; rather, it was just so Jung Bongsik-like.
“…Ha.”
The image Lee Seungheon had envisioned of Jung Bongsik was exactly there in the frame.
Of course, such minor details weren’t written in the script.
They weren’t even in the storyboard.
In other words, the image of Jung Bongsik that kept drawing Lee Seungheon’s eyes was something Yoo Chaemin created on his own.
‘No, someone must’ve helped him.’
There had to be an acting coach assigned by the agency.
Thinking that, he tried to brush it off, but suddenly certain memories popped up.
‘He seems to go around the set alone, without a manager.’
Come to think of it, he was alone even when he came for the audition.
He had even earnestly requested the results be sent to his direct number, not through a manager.
Why were these actions, which he’d overlooked at the time, suddenly coming back so clearly? ‘…Did the company just let him go?’ One thought led to another.
A company that lets its artists handle their schedules alone—would it even assign an acting coach? ‘No wonder his acting is like that!’ The conclusion Lee Seungheon finally reached was completely contradictory to his first assumption.
He unexpectedly found himself taking Yoo Chaemin’s side.
Not liking this thought, Lee Seungheon shook his head fiercely again.
‘No, no. Maybe he did have a coach before.’
Yoo Chaemin might have desperately clung to this film because he wanted to do well. ‘I saw recently that Kim Eunhye seems to be taking care of him a bit.’
Given Kim Eunhye’s personality, she probably wouldn’t directly give him acting direction but might have offered some hints.
As a result, good acting… “No.”
What good acting?
There are plenty of actors around here who can do that level of acting.
‘His acting has been bugging me lately. It’s really frustrating.’
Lee Seungheon still couldn’t accept that he viewed Yoo Chaemin’s acting rather favorably.
Unless the acting was overwhelmingly impressive, his pride wouldn’t allow him to settle for such an acknowledgment.
‘I’ve poured so much passion into this work.’
He started this path because he loved film, but living as a film director was never easy for him.
Watching his peers quickly get ahead, he often pondered whether he should give up.
In the end, he barely admitted that his talent was hardly something to be called talent.
Yet he couldn’t give up.
Because he couldn’t give up, he clung desperately.
His late debut was by his own choice.
If his talent was inevitably lacking compared to others, he decided he would make up for it with double the effort.
After a long stint as an assistant director, he debuted with an independent film, and this was his first commercial film.
He wanted to achieve better results than anyone else.
Knowing there were more eyes watching him than he expected, his greed only grew stronger.
The fact that his film was tainted by a bad actor frustrated him to no end.
Of course, no one forced him, nor did the investors arbitrarily insert that actor.
Lee Seungheon chose it himself… ‘It’s all because of that damn face.’
He thought how ridiculous it was for someone to be an actor just because of their looks, and his annoyance doubled.
Lee Seungheon still couldn’t accept it. No matter how good the teacher, if the student doesn’t take it in properly, it’s useless.
Even if someone gave good advice, it was entirely Yoo Chaemin’s responsibility to internalize and express it.
‘Why am I thinking about him again?’ Right now, the important one wasn’t Yoo Chaemin.
It was Ji Minseong. Narrowing his eyes, Lee Seungheon stared at Kim Cheolsu on the storyboard and sighed deeply.
‘Let’s at least give feedback.’ Ji Minseong was certainly an actor with great potential. If given enough feedback, he’d quickly find his groove.
This was also his first film shoot, so it was possible he was quite nervous.
Lee Seungheon called over a passing staff member.
“Hey, can you call actor Ji Minseong here for a moment?”
***
Lately, Ji Minseong’s condition had been terrible.
“Cut! NG!”
“Cut, NG! Ha, this isn’t it…”
“Cut! NG! NG! Let’s try again!”
“…Let’s take a short break.”
It was another day filled with NGs.
Ji Minseong clenched his jaw tightly as he watched Director Lee Seungheon leave the set with a frustrated face.
‘What the hell is this?!’
He could understand if he messed up his acting and caused the NG.
But even when the shooting was going smoothly, as soon as Ji Minseong acted, Lee Seungheon called NG sooner or later.
He had given feedback, but from Ji Minseong’s point of view, it was a bit ridiculous.
‘The character Kim Cheolsu doesn’t come alive. It’s important to look cool, but let’s think about Kim Cheolsu’s inner self.’
Kim Cheolsu’s inner self.
Wasn’t that telling him to complete the story of Kim Cheolsu that wasn’t written in the scenario?
That was basic when acting, and Ji Minseong naturally thought about that much.
He just paid more attention to other parts during shooting. Ji Minseong liked having multiple eyes on him.
He started enjoying acting by chance thanks to that.
He rose on the path to success faster than expected and thought it was all because he was born to be an actor.
But suddenly, while filming the movie , he hit a roadblock.
A place he thought was his stage.
Filming didn’t go well, and the seniors he thought would be friendly were strangely lukewarm.
He was obviously a pure-blood actor, not a former idol bad actor, and he was a better actor. Shouldn’t they be more supportive?
Yet, strangely, the seniors’ attention seemed to be elsewhere.
He wanted to quit filming, but he couldn’t.
Suppressing his growing irritation, Ji Minseong smiled.
He apologized to the actors he was filming with and stepped away to smoke a cigarette.
Then, in the corridor on his way back to the set, he spotted Yoo Chaemin.
The moment he saw Yoo Chaemin walking from afar, Ji Minseong furrowed his brows.
He knew few were watching nearby, so it was an expression he could show.
Yoo Chaemin. ‘That guy really annoys me.’
When he first heard Yoo Chaemin was cast, he felt nothing but displeasure.
A bad actor was sullying his precious screen debut.
He suspected the investors had forced him in, but after hearing around, it seemed Yoo Chaemin’s agency didn’t have that kind of influence.
Then the answer was obvious: the face. Realizing this, he honestly felt a bit disappointed in Lee Seungheon.
‘Please, don’t ruin my film.’
Before filming started, that was all Ji Minseong wanted from Yoo Chaemin.
Then why had things turned out like this?
His insides were a mess, but Yoo Chaemin strolled the corridor with an unbothered face.
Something was seriously wrong.
Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
He should be the one getting NGs for bad acting and being scolded by the director.
Ji Minseong slowed his pace and quickly recalled Yoo Chaemin’s behavior during past shoots.
At least he seemed to grasp the gist but showed stiff and awkward attitudes throughout.
When senior actors spoke to him, he didn’t know how to respond and just shyly smiled.
‘He didn’t even get the sarcasm and just laughed.’
He was easygoing and meek.
Ji Minseong rushed to his own conclusion.
His mind raced quickly in the wrong direction.