A KMB conference room filled with murmurs.
In the room where the first script reading for The Cactus Flower Has Bloomed was to be held today, actors who had arrived early were sitting here and there.
“Is our show really slotted for weekend evenings?”
“Yeah, that’s what they’re saying. The cast is stacked this time, so PD Cha Ilnam supposedly pulled some strings.”
“Wow, incredible. I think this is my first time appearing in a prime-time slot.”
Supporting and bit-part actors, and staff who knew them, were exchanging updates about their lives.
Among them was Nam Yeonsu—small, but drawing everyone’s attention.
“They actually cast Nam Yeonsu.”
“Must be true that PD Cha was out for blood this time.”
Everyone had met PD Cha or the writer Han at some point for casting,but gathering like this all together was almost a first.
Seeing Nam Yeonsu in person—someone they’d only heard rumors about—people kept sneaking glances at him as he looked over his script, clearly intrigued.
“Hello.”
“Good day.”
At that moment the door opened, and Kang Sujeong and Choi Tae-woo, the leads of this project, came in.
Walking in side by side, they greeted the people in the room.
At the leads’ entrance, those seated stood in a rush to greet them back.
“Hello, sunbaenim.”
Even Nam Yeonsu, who had been reading his script, rose and offered his greeting.
A courteous bow.
Having debuted at the young age of five, Nam Yeonsu was already in his third year.
It wasn’t as if he’d been taking it slow; he’d experienced a variety of sets.
As a child who began working life early, he already seemed precocious.
He was known for greeting everyone without being told, and for being impeccably polite with seniors and juniors alike.
“Oh, Yeonsu, you were already here?”
“Please take good care of me.”
Next to the affable Choi Tae-woo, who struck up conversation, Kang Sujeong gave the slightest nod and passed by.
With a fixed smile, Nam Yeonsu bowed back to her.
It was just like Kang Sujeong, rumored to keep to herself and simply do her job, with almost no small talk.
“Don’t mind it. That’s just how she is. How’s your condition?”
“I’m fine. I feel good.”
“Good. I don’t know how many months this will run, but let’s do our best.”
“Yes! I look forward to working with you.”
Waving his hand, Choi Tae-woo headed to his seat, beside Kang Sujeong’s.
Since the two would be playing a couple, he seemed to think they should grow closer before the acting began.
Standing beside Kang Sujeong as she opened her script, he tried to make small talk.
Who knows how effective it was.
“Good day.”
Then it happened.
Moon Heeseong, tall and striking, stepped into the room and offered a spirited greeting.
In terms of recognition and career, he was by far the top-tier name in this project; at his appearance, everyone stood to greet him.
The two leads who had just sat down did the same.
“Good day, sunbaenim.”
“Hello.”
After the actors’ greetings came:
“Actor Moon! It’s been too long.”
“Haha, we’re working together again. Please take good care of me.”
He had done so many projects at KMB that even the staff were familiar faces.
Moon Heeseong bustled about, greeting everyone.
True to his reputation for good character, he warmly greeted supporting actors, bit parts, and staff without distinction.
“Wow, Suhyeon, you’re on this one too?”
“Yes. I’ll make sure to capture your voice well.”
“I know your skills well, Suhyeon. I’m in your hands. Oh, Mr. Myeongho is here too?”
There was a feel-good story about how he remembered the names of everyone he’d worked with, even once.
Plenty had doubted it—on a single project you could meet over a hundred bit-part actors and staff—was it really possible?
But seeing him now, calling each person by name and greeting them with genuine delight, it seemed true.
Calling out staff members one by one, Moon Heeseong made his way to Nam Yeonsu.
“Yeonsu, we meet again.”
“Yes, sunbaenim.”
“Hey now, I told you to speak casually.”
“You’re a great senior… how could I. I’m really happy to be working with you again.”
Flushing his cheeks, Nam Yeonsu seemed pleased that Moon spoke to him.
More lively than when greeting others, he finally looked a bit like an actual eight-year-old.
The two had appeared together last year in a drama called Mouse, so they knew each other.
Back then, Nam had only appeared briefly as a child actor, so they hadn’t crossed paths much, but Moon had looked after him on set, and Yeonsu had taken to him.
“Good, I’m happy too. Let’s work well together.”
“Yes!”
Leaving the stout reply behind, Moon moved on to greet others.
Those who had spoken with him watched his back with reluctant faces as he went.
Everyone respected Moon, who was kind to all, but that didn’t mean many could easily strike up a conversation.
They wanted to, but in the end all they could do was watch from afar.
Just then, the long-awaited last lead appeared.
“Hello—!”
At the bright greeting of a small child, people who had been chatting all turned toward the doorway.
Pale, milky skin and chubby cheeks.
Even without double eyelids, the big eyes tilted up ever so slightly at the corners.
It was the actor Han Siwoo, holding tightly to his mother’s hand as he came in.
With his shining looks, Han Siwoo went around the room hand-in-hand with his mother, greeting everyone at the script reading.
No one disliked a little child who went around offering polite belly-button bows.
Busier than their ears had prepared for, people fussed over how even more radiant the child’s looks were than the rumors.
Waiting with his script open for the child to come greet him was Nam Yeonsu.
Then his eyes flew wide in surprise.
“Uncle!”
The little one toddling about had greeted none other than Moon Heeseong by calling him “uncle.”
At that cry, every gaze landed on Han Siwoo.
“Uncle, did you memorize all your lines?”
“Of course. You memorized all yours too, didn’t you, Siwoo.”
“Yup. Of course.”
“Then why ask.”
As if he found it cute, Moon Heeseong gently patted my head.
Mm, as expected.
No one strokes my hair more softly than Moon Heeseong.
Like a cat basking in sunlight, I half-closed my eyes and savored the touch.
I must have been unconsciously tense after coming into an unfamiliar place.
When I was making the rounds greeting people, I hadn’t thought much of it, but seeing Moon here suddenly made me incredibly happy for no reason.
“Siwoo, did you eat breakfast?”
“Yes. I’ll be hungry since I have to chatter all day.”
I had prepared thoroughly, of course.
When we did script readings at the troupe for show prep, we’d practice trading lines practically all day long.
At times like that I’d get hungry in an instant.
Sometimes Kang Yonghui would order jjajangmyeon, but today there were too many people—it seemed unlikely.
So Mom had, yet again, laid out a full course of fortifying dishes since morning, and I had eaten my fill before coming.
“Haha, you know they feed us here in the middle, too.”
“Wow, what do they give?”
“Mm… probably a boxed lunch.”
Oho, what would a broadcasting station boxed lunch have in it?
Excited, I swung my legs where I sat.
My seat was right next to Moon Heeseong’s.
Even though “Kang Uju,” the role I’d be playing, grows close with “Ji Hyunseong,” Moon’s role, I figured the seating itself was PD Cha’s consideration.
I was only six, and this was my first time at a TV script reading; he must have set me next to Moon as a kind of guardian.
Mom handed me off to Moon and sat in the chairs at the back.
I could read the script on my own and communicate just fine, so she decided to watch from a little distance.
Opposite us sat the leads who would play my parents, “Kang Sujeong” and “Choi Tae-woo,” and Nam Yeonsu, who would be my older brother.
Thinking hard, I said seriously,
“I like pork cutlet. I hope the lunch box is pork cutlet.”
“Are you into pork cutlet these days? For a while you kept asking for chicken.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sick of chicken now.”
At my sighing “it’s pork now,” Moon chuckled in disbelief.
But something had felt odd for a while.
I was just talking with Moon like usual, but the glances around us pricked in a curious way.
Why’s that?
Puzzled, I lifted my head and swept my gaze around.
The looks people were giving Moon and me were full of curiosity.
Hmm, did I get too chummy with a great senior my first time in the TV world?
But it was already too late.
In my happiness at seeing him, I’d broadcast our closeness to the whole world.
“Um, Mr. Heeseong, you seem quite close with Siwoo. How do you know each other?”
At last, a staffer asked Moon on behalf of all the curious eyes.
At the question, Moon seemed to catch the mood in the room.
He glanced around with a puzzled face and then, chuckling, answered with wit.
“Ah, Siwoo? He’s actually the son I’ve been hiding. Looks like me, handsome and good at acting.”
“Uncle, lying is bad.”
I shook my head at him, exasperated.
The staffer who’d asked laughed along at Moon’s answer and said,
“You really do seem close. Seeing how fond you are of him, Mr. Moon.”
“Siwoo is doing me the favor of being my friend. You’ve no idea how smart he is.”
Moon and the staffer started chatting away.
It was less a conversation and more Moon going on at length with praise for me.
Feeling too embarrassed to keep listening, I turned my gaze aside.
Just then Nam Yeonsu, reading his script, came into view.
Huh, they said he’s two years older than me—at that age even a few months makes a big difference, I guess.
He definitely looked taller, with slightly more defined features.
Standing side by side we’d really look like brothers.
Even so, he was smaller than the kids I’d met at RUN.
I was a January baby, so I tended to grow fast.
In the script they’re a year apart, which seemed fortunate.
And… the leads who would play my mom and dad.
I didn’t know much about Kang Sujeong, said to be a rising star these days, but I knew Choi Tae-woo well.
I’d seen a few of his works.
Not “the best,” perhaps, but he was solid and beyond reproach.
I just thought he might benefit from a bit more individuality.
While I was quietly sizing up the actors I’d be working with, Cha Ilnam and Han Yuju came in.
“Is everyone here?”
At his relaxed greeting, replies rose from here and there.
“Pleased to meet you all.”
And behind him came Han Yuju’s energetic greeting.
At the pair’s entrance, everyone who’d been seated stood to greet them.
“Yes, yes, pleased to meet you. I’m Cha Ilnam, the overall director for this project. Let’s do well.”
“I’m Han Yuju, who wrote The Cactus Flower Has Bloomed. I’m in your care.”
The two took the head seats and introduced themselves.
Applause followed Han Yuju’s spirited self-introduction.
When the round of clapping subsided, Cha Ilnam opened his script.
“Alright then. Let’s begin the script reading.”
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