“Next, we’ll do the first-meeting scene between Uju and Haeseong.”
At last, my turn came around.
The first scene was the first meeting between Ji Haeseong, played by Nam Yeonsu, and Kang Uju, played by me.
“You two actors, ready?”
At Cha Ilnam’s words, Yeonsu and I nodded one after the other.
I pointlessly adjusted my seat as well.
“Action!”
At Cha Ilnam’s cue—shouted at the start of every scene reading—Nam Yeonsu began the lines first.
“Ah, hi. You’re Uju, right? I’m Ji Haeseong.”
“Mm.”
“I’m eight, and you’re seven, right, Uju? Then since I’m the older brother, I’ll look after you.”
“……Mm.”
In the story, Uju’s mother, Han Jihye, and Haeseong’s father, Ji Hyun-woo, are hoping to remarry.
After they decide to heal each other’s wounds and start anew, they can’t help worrying about their children.
Today, before the remarriage talks get serious, they’ve set up a chance for the kids to meet.
Uju’s expression is especially bad.
Flustered for a moment by the curt reaction from his would-be younger brother, Haeseong nonetheless stoutly keeps talking to him.
“Um, have you tried this, Uju? It’s all the rage at school these days… Ah, you probably don’t know school yet, right? Do you go to kindergarten?”
“Mm, I go to kindergarten.”
Having just entered elementary school, Ji Haeseong excitedly brings up school to Uju, who’s to be his little brother.
“I see. Since you’re the younger one, you might not know what school is yet… So this is—”
“Sounds boring.”
As Haeseong energetically talks about a game that’s popular among his school friends these days, Uju cuts him off and snaps back.
“Huh? W-well, let’s play together anyway. Since I’m your hyung now, I have to look after my little brother—my dad said—”
“Hey.”
Having watched his father struggle for so long, Haeseong thinks his dad’s recent bright face is all thanks to Uju’s mom, Han Jihye.
Sometimes he feels a twinge of sadness, wondering if Dad is forgetting Mom, who passed away early, but he prefers seeing the father who used to suffer daily looking brighter.
So, just as Dad asked, he prepared various things to be a good older brother…
He never imagined he’d be told “hey” by a kid younger than he was.
Mouth agape, stupefied, he finally answers.
“…Huh?”
Seeing the dazed response, Uju snorts and fires off in a chilly tone.
“Are you stupid? How are you my hyung. I’m already annoyed—don’t go around hyung, hyung just ’cause you’re a year older. I don’t need a hyung like you. I’m an only child. I’m my mom and dad’s one and only son!”
“Uju!”
Sitting a little ways off, Han Jihye (Kang Sujeong) is startled by the raised voices and steps in.
At Mom’s appearance, Uju closes his mouth.
“Tch.”
“You mustn’t talk to your older brother like that! Come on, apologize to your brother.”
But with “older brother” popping out again, Uju finally explodes.
“I don’t have a brother. I’ve never had a brother like that!”
“Uju. Wait. Just a moment.”
Having silently watched Uju’s continued outburst, Ji Hyun-woo (Choi Tae-woo) steps in to try to soothe the child somehow.
But the situation is already past the point of no return.
Face gone pale, Haeseong quietly shuts his mouth.
“……Cut! Ah, our child actors were excellent. No—our leads, I should say!”
Beaming, Cha Ilnam praised the two of us.
I gulped down the bottled water Mom had stuck a straw into.
Not bad for a first reading. But no room for complacency.
We’d be talking for hours yet, for all I knew, so I needed to keep my throat from drying out in advance.
“Wow, the back-and-forth tempo is no joke.”
“What you two just did is beyond the level of a mere script reading. Director, you could roll cameras on the kids right now.”
“Look at the goosebumps on my arm.”
“Why are those two so intense~? For a moment the whole room froze solid because of them.”
Following Cha Ilnam’s praise, the staff who’d been holding their breath watching us bantered away.
Hmph, this much is nothing.
Sipping my water, I smiled brightly at the people praising our acting.
The troupe folks had gotten so used to my acting by now that these fresh reactions were a real rarity.
“You could make Siwoo and Yeonsu the dual leads!”
Choi Tae-woo, who plays Ji Hyun-woo, seemed rather surprised and praised us like crazy.
Saying if the two of us show up, his acting will be completely overshadowed.
That he’s afraid to wedge in between when we trade lines, and so on—his playful exaggerations were endless.
From the easy way he spoke, he seemed like someone adept at making young child actors feel good.
“….”
Beside him, Kang Sujeong—who had just played the scene with us—kept quiet, turning pages in her script.
As if the children’s acting and her own were separate matters.
“There he goes again, Choi Tae-woo, overdoing it.”
“No, Director, I was really moved this time, I swear. You said so yourself.”
Hand over heart, Choi Tae-woo hammed it up that he meant it this time.
Hearing him, and apparently in a rather good mood, Cha Ilnam gave us both a thumbs-up.
“That’s true. I knew you were good, but you surprised me. This was the first time you two matched breaths, and you did great.”
“Thank you very much.”
“…Thank you.”
Shy-voiced, Nam Yeonsu seemed quite awkward about being praised.
Why’s that?
Judging by his acting, he was as capable as the rumors said.
I’d have thought he’d be used to piles of praise here and there; it was unexpected.
As I watched him with curiosity, Han Yuju chimed in.
“I think both of you grasped your characters’ emotions really well. Keep doing just like this. It was exactly right just now.”
“Yes, Writer!”
“It’s because the script is so good, Writer.”
Well, well—the script is so good?
Looked like Nam Yeonsu was pretty good at social life too.
Smiling sweetly, he gave a reply not very eight-year-old-like.
Maybe there are places that teach kids those things these days.
Like kids such as Sung Jihoon, maybe Nam also goes to an acting academy or whatever.
It had struck me the first time I came into the conference room.
Watching him greet other actors, something had felt… off.
He was only eight, and unlike me he hadn’t come with his mother.
In any case, hearing Han Yuju say that, it seemed thankfully my direction for character analysis was on the mark.
Having gotten confirmation, I sat back more at ease and began watching the script reading.
The next scene didn’t include me; it was a scene with Ji Haeseong, played by Nam.
“I’m okay, Dad. Have a good trip.”
Huh?
Something snagged.
I tilted my head at the line I heard.
Strangely, the Nam Yeonsu who’d been greeting people in the room and the Ji Haeseong he was now playing seemed to overlap.
Had Han Yuju nailed the real Nam so precisely that she’d poured the real boy straight into the character of Haeseong?
That seemed unlikely.
Han originally didn’t write long-form dramas, mostly doing one-acts; the odds she had met Nam Yeonsu there were quite low.
I watched closely as Nam played a consistently upright, good child.
Ji Haeseong, who had prematurely grown up to ease his grieving father’s worries.
Was it just my imagination that the “not-acting” Nam Yeonsu and the Haeseong he was playing seemed similar?
It was as if—even when not in the script reading—he kept on acting.
Narrowing my eyes at Nam, I shrugged once.
It wasn’t as if the acting he was doing right now was unbearable to watch.
He wasn’t causing any immediate trouble, so I figured I’d just keep an eye on it a bit longer.
A drama took more steps to get started than you’d think.
Beyond the script reading, there were sponsorships and this-and-that meetings.
Time flew, and somehow half of May had already passed.
A day at last with no meetings.
Greeted by a clear day that had turned suddenly warm, our family went out on an excursion.
It was thanks to me pestering Dad after hearing that a spring flower festival was being held at “Happyland” in Yongin.
“Dad, before I get busy with work I want to go there and play. With Mom and Dad. My signing bonus already came in! That’s what Mom said!”
At my imperious declaration, Dad laughed and said okay.
Thanks to that, today the chicken shop was left to Uncle and the part-timers.
In this season, the massive “Happyland” logo kept popping up on TV; it was harder not to see it.
I’d thought it looked hectic on TV—actually stepping into “Happyland” was even more overwhelming.
First off, the admission tickets were pricier than I expected.
Sure, Dad’s chicken place was doing well now, but……
One ticket equals how many chickens…?
I was really glad the signing bonus had come in.
Once we got our tickets and entered, the crowds and noise were something else.
Whipping my head around, I stared in a daze at the clattering rides.
I was just looking because it was fascinating, but Mom must have thought I wanted to ride them.
She took my hand and suggested we go on the carousel, the bumper cars, and so on together.
I wondered why she liked these things so much—I wasn’t a little kid.
Thinking I’d just ride grudgingly, I climbed onto the bobbing horse and then……
“Wow!”
I ended up loving it so much I wiggled my butt in delight.
And that scene was faithfully captured by Mom’s camcorder.
Who knew something this fun existed!
A truly new world.
After making a round of the rides a six-year-old could go on, we headed to the plaza where the spring flower festival was being held.
It felt like there were more people than flowers, but I didn’t care.
Holding Mom’s and Dad’s hands in mine as we strolled through the flowerbeds… I could say with certainty it was one of the happiest moments of this life.
In the past, Battenberg Castle had been surrounded by a splendid garden, so I hadn’t realized flowerbeds were something so precious.
Breathing in the sweet fragrance of flowers to my heart’s content after so long, I felt my body being cleansed from within.
Even in my days as Noah, I loved fragrant things.
Back then too I often enjoyed sniffing fresh flowers and perfume; what a fine opportunity this was.
I was so glad I’d pestered Dad to come.
“Mm, tasty.”
“Try this too, Siwoo.”
After an extra-long photo session among the flowers, we took a seat on a nearby bench to rest our tired legs.
There was a parasol set up to block the strong sunlight.
While we were at it, the three of us decided to eat the carefully prepared lunch box.
Just then I was feeling hungry, so I neatly popped pieces of kimbap into my mouth and also happily accepted whatever food Mom and Dad handed me.
“Worth getting up before dawn to make it.”
“Honey, this rolled omelet might be too salty……”
“Huh? Why would the omelet be?”
We spread out the colorful lunch and dug in.
Then Dad’s face turned odd after he tasted the omelet.
Oh no, making that face after eating my special rolled omelet!
“I seasoned it!”
More like I spilled the salt by mistake than seasoned it, but still.
At least Mom had rolled it, so it looked very pretty.
“…Ah, did you? Siwoo, it’s soooo good.”
“Mm! Then Dad can have it all.”
At that, I promptly slid the omelet in front of him as if I’d been waiting.
And I bit into one of the sandwiches Mom had packed.
Wearing the look of a man ambushed, Dad gloomily finished the omelet.
“I wish you’d seen it too. Siwoo was honestly the best one in the script-reading room, I’m telling you.”
“Really? What a shame. Dad needs to see our Siwoo in action.”
As we ate, the topic shifted to my script reading.
With my stomach pleasantly full, I started picking up cherry tomatoes; eyes sparkling, I said,
“The actors I’m working with are all amazing too. When I say this, they volley back like that, and Uncle Heeseong the other day……”
I told Dad, who was curious about the script reading, all sorts of things in great detail.
Maybe moved by my vivid delivery, Dad listened intently.
Then, having finally finished off the rolled omelet, Dad suddenly sprang to his feet.
“Uh… I’m going to grab a drink.”
“I’m coming too! Me too! I want to see if they have Pengpeng!”
At that, I quickly followed Dad.
Holding his hand tight, I went looking for a vending machine.
We reached a row of machines and were pondering what to get when—
“Excuse me, just a moment! Your child is so cute. Could we have a quick word?!”
Someone approached us with a bright smile and spoke.
“Ever thought about becoming a celebrity?”
What is he even saying—to this Daehak-ro idol1.
- A “Daehak-ro idol” (also romanized Daehangno) is a popular young stage actor from Seoul’s Daehak-ro—the city’s main theater and small-musical district. The term is slangy: it doesn’t mean a K-pop idol, but a theater actor with idol-like appeal—good looks, strong fanservice, and a loyal local fandom built through small venues. People use it half-seriously, half-playfully to describe actors who are the “it” stars of the Daehak-ro scene. ↩︎
Leave a Reply