Go Sangwoo had nothing to say to Director Gyeong Chanhyeon, whose face looked reverent, or perhaps as if he had found enlightenment.
Director Gyeong Chanhyeon was already the one who had opened up tremendous possibility for Kwak Yeonji.
So this is what veteran actors mean when they say the soul of acting is ablaze, he thought; Kwak Yeonji’s acting now belonged to another tier.
One week. A span short if you call it short, yet it had brought about an enormous change.
Then the right thing would be to trust it but appearing on screen with hair shorter than a bob carried a different meaning.
A look that might even draw ridicule.
There had been actresses with bobbed cuts, sure, but how many had worn hair as short as the length Director Gyeong was talking about?
No one sprang to mind.
“Sigh…”
“If Yeonji is cast, there will be many scenes she carries entirely by herself. That means she has to leave a powerful impression.”
Nothing Director Gyeong said was wrong.
But this was a completely different issue.
Counting even her years as a child actress, Kwak Yeonji had stood in front of the camera for nearly fifteen years.
Which also meant she had stood before it with long hair for fifteen straight years.
She had shifted from the cuteness of a child actor to the beauty of an adult.
And now, a sudden image change.
Would her look in this film end up making people laugh at her?
With that worry, Go Sangwoo hesitated and asked:
“But if an actress who has been getting roles for her youthful, pretty image suddenly shows up on screen like that… won’t people feel put off?”
“Do you see Kwak Yeonji inside that acting right now? All I see is Lee Sohee.”
“…”
“I’m not asking for this because I like the idea. I’m asking it because I’m desperate.”
Director Gyeong looked at Go Sangwoo with a grave expression.
“Maybe I placed a bet. By choosing Kwak Yeonji instead of Lee Seobin.”
“Sir?”
“Haeyum Entertainment told me. Use Lee Seobin. Said she’d be a far better choice than Kwak Yeonji.”
“Haeyum tried to lobby…?”
“Yes. CEO Kim Mujin moved in person.”
At the name Kim Mujin, Go Sangwoo’s eyes went wide.
“The CEO of Haeyum Entertainment himself?”
If Kim Mujin was personally lobbying, that meant he was very hungry for it.
Then again, from a management company’s perspective, the value justified it.
Actors who shot a Gyeong Chanhyeon film saw their fees skyrocket to the heavens.
Lee Seobin’s price was already climbing, and if she added Director Gyeong’s film to her credits, it would be astronomical.
“Right. And even so we’re choosing Kwak Yeonji. If I turn down Kim Mujin and then walk around with my head held high, can I do that off the back of a mediocre work? We have to prove why it had to be Kwak Yeonji and not Lee Seobin. We need people saying this project came alive because Kwak Yeonji took it.”
“Yes…”
Go Sangwoo could only answer weakly.
Whether he could accomplish what Director Gyeong was asking was a question in itself.
“Let’s stop here for today. I think I need to revise the script more.”
“Yes. Get home safe.”
Director Gyeong left, looking almost exhilarated.
Watching him go, Go Sangwoo worked his head over how to talk to Kwak Yeonji as he headed back to the practice room.
Inside, Kwak Yeonji was chugging bottled water like her stomach was burning.
The moment she saw Go Sangwoo, she asked:
“Did it go well…?”
As soon as I got home, I added a wig device to the role of Lee Sohee.
For someone like Kwak Yeonji, even with short hair she would not lose the beauty that was inherently hers.
In the story, Lee Sohee keeps her hair short because she prizes practicality.
But because she knows she looks more beautiful with long hair, she uses wigs as needed and knows how to exploit that to the hilt. I added that concept to her character.
When I adjusted several scenes around that concept, Lee Sohee gained an extra layer of appeal.
Picturing the revised scenes in my head, I drew out the storyboard.
I plan to open on Lee Sohee staring at herself in the mirror, hair wet, eyes overflowing with self-regard.
And the scene where she roughly towels her hair dry, even in imagination, had real allure.
Looking through the completed revisions, the character now truly lived, incomparable to the previous draft.
Scene after scene sprang up that I wanted to keep alive no matter what.
But if Go Sangwoo failed to persuade Kwak Yeonji, it would all be for nothing.
From the look on Go Sangwoo’s face, I couldn’t be sure of any persuasion.
Just then, a decent idea flashed through my mind.
I stood and looked in the mirror.
My hair was a shag cut, the style in fashion now.
The back stuck out in spikes, and my sideburns ran down along my jawline.
My hair grows fast anyway… maybe the best way to persuade Kwak Yeonji is to do the same thing myself.
I’d once seen a video of family members shaving their heads together to support a loved one going through chemotherapy.
You can’t compare that profound love to my mere passion to make a film succeed, but I could at least try.
It would be a bit much to make her the only one who has to cut her hair…
With that thought, I went to the mart and bought something that could pass as a secret weapon.
And the next day, I grabbed what I’d bought and headed straight to Pureum Entertainment.
The moment I arrived at the practice room I checked her hair; as expected, she hadn’t cut it.
Which, if you think about it, was only natural.
The casting wasn’t even confirmed yet. Taking my word and chopping it off out of the blue would make no sense.
I wondered if this wasn’t too much like a director’s abusive power play and watched her face.
“…”
Judging by my guess, the moment she saw me she said nothing, and her expression wasn’t good.
Go Sangwoo’s face didn’t look any better.
Maybe they’d argued a lot yesterday. The room’s mood was frozen, unlike usual.
We started rehearsal first.
By now, Kwak Yeonji’s acting was largely complete.
She performed as if she had become Lee Sohee naturally.
When the first run ended and she was catching her breath, I spoke to her in the gentlest voice I could manage.
“Yeonji.”
Even in a gentle tone, the moment I said her name, she glared at me.
It felt like her ill will toward Lee Seobin had overflowed onto me. The sincerity in her eyes almost made me shrink.
“Sunbae. I know your opinion, but I…”
She spoke first without even listening to me, and I could see she was restraining her emotions in order to say it as nicely as she could.
But in this situation, listening to her served no purpose.
Seeing is believing. Showing came first.
“Look at this first. I revised it last night. And here’s the storyboard.”
I handed Yeonji a packet of cut-together pages: scenes that only work because Lee Sohee has short hair and scenes where the short hair lets the character of Lee Sohee stand out more vividly.
As she read through the revisions, her expression grew more serious.
It was as if she was hoping it wouldn’t be this interesting.
“Much better, right?”
“It is, but…”
She couldn’t answer easily.
Her brow furrowed and smoothed, furrowed and smoothed, and then she let out a sigh instead of a reply.
At that, I spoke first.
“And want to watch today’s recording?”
“…”
Silently, Yeonji stood beside me and watched what we’d filmed yesterday.
Soon her eyes went round.
She looked like she couldn’t believe the version of herself on screen, acting even better than at the audition.
“How is it?”
“It’s good…”
“When you act now, you are Lee Sohee, full stop. No one else can do it but you.”
At that, Yeonji finally seemed to thaw a little; a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Can I make you an offer?”
“Sir?”
“I’ll shave first.”
“What do you mean?”
Blinking her big eyes, Yeonji asked.
Bzzzz.
At the sound of my secret weapon coming to life, Yeonji cried out in alarm.
“Wh-what are you doing!”
Ignoring her shout, I set the clippers to my head.
My hair fell in a shower to the floor.
“D-director?”
From the side, Go Sangwoo spoke in a trembling voice.
His face said he had no idea whether to stop me or what to do.
Thud, thud.
The full-length studio mirror reflected me.
A famous scene came to mind, the one where a former special agent who ran a pawn shop shaved his own head.
But unlike that scene, reality wasn’t cool.
Movies are movies, reality is reality.
That actor looked extraordinary to begin with… it was unfair to compare.
Thinking that, I finished buzzing off my sides and was moving to the top when Yeonji shouted:
“I’ll cut it like you said! Just stop! I’ve been debating because the script is so fun, why are you doing this! Seriously!”
Click.
Hearing the answer I wanted at last, I switched the clippers off.
Yeonji looked at me, my sides clean-shaven, with a face of pure horror.
“Are you crazy, sunbae? Doing something that insane like it’s nothing…”
“You just said it. You’ll cut it. No take-backs, okay?”
“…”
Yeonji nodded silently.
“Then by this time tomorrow, it’s cut. Got it? If you do that, your casting is guaranteed. Trust me.”
“…Okay.”
Yeonji stuck out her lower lip and glared at me.
Her pride’s strong enough that she keeps her word; I didn’t need to worry.
“Then let’s get back to rehearsal.”
“You’re not going to tidy your hair?”
“I can go after this. Is my hair what matters right now? Your acting matters.”
“Good grief…”
Troubled, Yeonji let out a deep sigh.
Just before we started again, to sweep away any doubt in her mind I mixed in a little swagger.
“Yeonji. I’m Gyeong Chanhyeon. You can’t trust me?”
“…”
“Lee Seobin? I’ll make your popularity so far beyond hers it won’t even be comparable. If this film hits? Every man and woman in Korea will be your fan.”
At that, Yeonji let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“Sounds like a joke? Think about Junsik hyung. A no-name stage actor—look where he is now. And you’ve got a role that could take you even further than that!”
“Okay, okay! I’ll do what you say! Just stop! You sound like a scammer!”
At last, she eased up.
Hearing me out, Yeonji broke into a bright smile.
Yeonji sat in the salon chair and looked into the mirror.
The thought of cutting the long hair she’d kept all her life made her eyes prickle.
“Ms. Yeonji, are you really going to cut it like this…?”
The stylist who usually did her hair asked, baffled.
“Yes… please do it the way I asked.”
“It’s such a waste… This style suits you so well…”
The stylist gazed at Yeonji’s hair with pity.
“…”
Yeonji said nothing, squeezed her eyes shut, and in a voice of resolve said,
“Just cut it.”
Feeling the chunks being sliced away, she peeked at herself, then squeezed her eyes shut again.
Her face tightened as if some part of her body were being cut off, and she breathed deep.
Behind her, Go Sangwoo watched her hair tumble in clumps with a pained look.
Seeing the beautiful hair pile up on the floor, his sympathy only deepened.
“All done. And you know, it suits you better than I expected.”
At that, Yeonji slowly opened her eyes.
“Huh…?”
In the mirror was a version of herself she had never imagined.
It was so short you could hardly even call it a bob, but she was quite satisfied.
For some reason, it even felt closer to the Lee Sohee she’d pictured in her head.
“Yeonji, it looks good.”
Answering in a tone that said she didn’t quite understand it either, Yeonji replied,
“Right… why does this look good…?”
She laughed in disbelief at being pleased with her own reflection.
Seeing that, the stylist, relieved, smiled and asked:
“Shall I style it for you? What sort of vibe would you like?”
“Um…”
She paused, thinking, then remembered the kind of style she and Gyeong Chanhyeon had said the character Lee Sohee would wear.
“Let’s part it and bring the left side slightly forward to cover part of my face. Strong, but with a kind of faraway, wounded aura?”
Encouraged, Yeonji pictured the Lee Sohee in her mind and made her request with a bright grin.
When the styling was done, Go Sangwoo couldn’t help but marvel at her appearance.
Just as Director Gyeong had said.
There was no Kwak Yeonji.
There was only Lee Sohee.
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