I Choi lowered her head deeply.
A small sigh, followed by a hollow laugh.
The sound of swallowing back tears.
“I don’t hate it.”
She spoke in a voice thick with emotion.
“I don’t hate it, so why do I hate doing it? Mom was right. I don’t intend to quit—I want to keep going. But if that’s the case, I can’t keep messing up like this…”
“……”
“But… right now, I just can’t do it. I feel like I’m suffocating. I don’t even know what I’m doing or what I should be doing.”
‘Maybe it’s time to rest.’
Whatever the exact reason, it was clear that I Choi desperately needed a break.
Her body might be rejecting the constant work without pause.
‘Sounds more like burnout than a slump.’
Maybe it was both.
“I understand why Mom says that. If I were her, I’d feel frustrated and confused too. Your last project didn’t flop; it did really well. Now’s the time to row hard….”
I Choi’s words were tangled with lament and self-reproach.
Even so, her mention of understanding her mother gave a hint of her character.
‘Their relationship didn’t seem too bad.’
No, it was closer to good.
The details were known only to the two of them, so it was hard to define exactly, but from a third party’s point of view, it looked good.
They seemed to respect and support each other and had formed a strong bond.
At least, it wasn’t a case of the parents ignoring the child’s wishes and exploiting them.
But just because it looked good didn’t mean there were no issues.
Her mother’s reaction to I Choi’s refusal to film, and I Choi’s current state, made it clear there were unresolved problems between them.
“Do you really understand your mother?”
I Choi’s body flinched.
She looked up and met my eyes for a moment before giving a bitter smile.
“No. Actually, I don’t. Mom does everything for me, but she never listens to what I truly want.”
“Have you told her you’re tired and want to take a break?”
At my question, the expression I Choi had been forcing to keep calm collapsed.
Her face was covered with a mixture of resentment, sadness, and guilt.
“It’s no use. She always says she understands, tells me to rest after this project, but then she immediately brings up the next one. With eyes full of expectations.”
I began to understand how this vicious cycle continued.
There was only one way to break it—by I Choi firmly declaring it.
‘I expected this, but the wound runs deeper than I thought.’
Especially since my goal was to get I Choi back on set.
If it weren’t for the quest, I would have told her to rest too.
Though in the back of my mind, I’d still be uneasy.
Taking today off is fine, but what about the next shoot?
In that sense, pushing her to keep filming might be the better long-term option.
After all, I Choi said she still wanted to act.
‘…I have to think of it that way.’
Sorry, but I have to live too, don’t I?
“Then, how about secretly going on a trip after this shoot?”
“Without telling anyone?”
“Yeah.”
“You want me to run away?”
“No, a trip.”
It’s practically the same thing.
“And you’re old enough to go alone now.”
I Choi blinked slowly, then spoke.
“Oh, that’s right. I can do that now.”
Like someone who just realized something they hadn’t noticed before.
“Where should I go? Domestic? Nearby overseas?”
Murmuring softly to herself, her lips curved up slightly.
I responded lightly to her words.
She quickly reverted to her usual childish self, chattering about various ideas.
“Are you feeling better now?”
“Huh? Ah…”
I Choi hesitated for a moment, then smiled brightly.
“Yeah. I think I’m feeling better. It’s strange… nothing’s really changed, but my heart feels much lighter.”
“Sometimes just sharing what’s on your mind is enough.”
She nodded softly.
“That’s true.”
“……”
“Actually, I haven’t told my friends things like this for a long time. Because of my job, they don’t really understand. And most of the friends I acted with when I was younger have quit. Even when I talk about my struggles, it ends up feeling like bragging, so it’s hard to bear.”
“……”
“When I talk to adults, it inevitably reaches Mom’s ears in a bad way, so I hold back. I guess it’s become a habit.”
From another’s perspective, this might seem frustrating or hard to understand.
But that’s just how I Choi is. When there’s a problem, she endures it, trying to solve things by bearing more discomfort herself.
But too much of anything isn’t good.
“Don’t hold it in.”
“……”
“In the end, it’s your life.”
That was what I truly wanted to tell her.
“Yeah.”
I Choi answered, lost in thought for a moment. Her voice was small but clear.
Just then, Director Choi Younghwan returned.
He approached with a worried expression, but I Choi was the first to say she wanted to continue filming.
Director Choi looked relieved but cautioned her not to push too hard.
I Choi assured him she was fine and could do it. The spark that had disappeared from her face had returned, if only slightly.
[1:41:52]
Watching that, I checked the remaining time. About an hour and forty minutes left. If we did it in one take, there was a chance to succeed.
Even though I Choi was motivated again, it wouldn’t be easy for her to act smoothly right away.
At times like this, I had to firmly take the lead in the acting.
“Phew…”
Just thinking about spitting blood again made my mouth taste like iron.
The preparations to resume filming were made quickly.
By then, the sun had fully set and the surroundings were dark, but since it was an evening scene, it was no problem.
A girl walked into the brightly lit area.
Her clean school uniform was stained with black dirt, and one sneaker was missing.
Her hair, usually tied high in a single ponytail, had lost its ribbon and was wildly tangled.
Sniffling and snorting, she limped forward.
Behind the main school building was an empty lot.
She quietly gazed at the Rose Garden.
Then she sat on a bench placed in front of it.
She examined her disheveled appearance and furrowed her brow.
“Ugh, really. Because of Lee Hyuk, what kind of mess is this?”
Anger welled up again as she clenched her fists and patted her thighs.
“If I really liked him, maybe I’d understand! But I don’t like him anymore! Why won’t anyone believe me? Even if you gave me a truckload of Lee Hyuk, I wouldn’t take it!”
She shouted with all her heart, but sadly, there was no one to hear her.
The overwhelming silence made Han Yeoreum’s shoulders slump.
“Sigh… It’s not easy…”
She was struggling to change the predetermined story but to no avail.
Han Yeoreum was still called Lee Hyuk’s shadow, his stalker, and so was Yoon Jihwa.
“I miss Jihwa.”
Her eyes grew watery. She looked up at the sky without reason and wiped her eyes casually.
“It’s okay. This is nothing. Who am I? The one who survived even the chairman’s threats!”
In the previous episode,
Han Yeoreum muttered softly and reaffirmed her resolve, patting her own cheeks.
“I have to go quickly. Before Lee Hyuk comes.”
At the end of this episode, Lee Hyuk always appears.
When Han Yeoreum was being bullied the worst, he never showed up.
But now, like a prince, he appeared before a crying Han Yeoreum, offering her not the lost sneaker but a new pair.
Though he spoke with a mouthful of annoying words.
Just as Han Yeoreum, who never wanted to see Lee Hyuk’s smug face, was about to stand up from the bench—
“Yeoreum.”
A low voice called out to her.
I Choi lifted her head. The moment the face filled her vision, she unconsciously held her breath.
Not only because the face, lit up in the dark, was stunningly handsome.
But because of the cautious eyes looking at her.
Yoo Chaemin’s gaze had always startled her.
His acting was awkward, even pitiful, but somehow his eyes were vividly alive.
Strong yet soft, rough yet gentle.
They seemed to belong to someone who had lived a long, complicated life despite his age, and yet also to an innocent child.
Whenever those deep, shining eyes looked at her, I Choi felt as if they penetrated right through her.
As if they could see everything.
Her current self, acting like a chore; the things she used to value in acting, all pushed aside; the part of her just moving mechanically through the lines—it all felt like it would be exposed.
That’s why days when she filmed with Yoo Chaemin were always harder and more painful on the way home.
But now, it was beyond what she had seen before. Previously, she could avoid his gaze, but not anymore.
She felt helplessly drawn in by the emotion filling those shining eyes.
Worry and sadness. And hesitation, as if unsure whether she could keep going as she was.
Just from his eyes, she could tell. Yoo Chaemin, acting as Yoon Jihwa, had been watching over I Choi all along.
Unable to do anything else, he had finally come to her.
“Yeoreum, are you okay?”
The voice calling Han Yeoreum snapped I Choi back to reality.
She had forgotten to deliver her lines when she met Yoo Chaemin’s gaze.
Slowly, she opened her mouth.
“Jihwa…?”
She spoke without needing to cram the lines into her mind.
There was no need to struggle to gather her scattered emotions. Yoo Chaemin’s gaze at her was Yoon Jihwa’s gaze at Han Yeoreum.
That familiar look they had shared throughout filming naturally drew Han Yeoreum out of her.
“How did you… get here…?”
“Well…”
Yoon Jihwa’s gaze faltered and shifted toward his hand. Han Yeoreum’s eyes followed it as well.
“This…!”
In his hand was the missing sneaker of Han Yeoreum. Yoon Jihwa smiled awkwardly.
Yet the boy kept watching the girl’s expression carefully.
He worried whether his actions might burden her.
“You found my sneaker! Thank you!”
Han Yeoreum exclaimed gratefully. Yoon Jihwa finally relaxed, closing his eyes and smiling.
He then gently pulled the tongue of the sneaker forward and offered it to Han Yeoreum’s bare foot.
Han Yeoreum froze in embarrassment.
Realizing what he’d done, Yoon Jihwa’s face flushed bright red.
“S-sorry!”
He hurriedly tried to put the sneaker down, but Han Yeoreum stopped him.
“No, no! You have to put it on me! If you don’t, I won’t wear it!”
Whether it was a threat or a plea, Yoon Jihwa lifted the sneaker again with a serious look.
Han Yeoreum’s small foot cautiously slid into the sneaker.
After checking that it was properly worn, Yoon Jihwa smiled proudly and looked at her.
Their eyes met. With a very serious expression, Han Yeoreum faced him.
Yoon Jihwa’s eyes widened like a startled rabbit, and he swallowed hard.
“Yeoreum…?”
“Jihwa.”
A brief silence passed as the warm summer breeze swept by.
“I love you. Marry me.”