A few days after the production announcement for the new project <Jawol (字月)>.
Filming finally began.
After arriving on set, Kwak Yeonji headed straight for the makeup team’s bus.
Some of the crew shot her a glance and whispered among themselves.
Seeing them, she drew in a deep breath and let it out.
“Hoo…”
She knew it, too.
Ever since the production announcement, the mood hadn’t been good because of her casting.
But that kind of thing didn’t matter.
What Director Gyeong Chanhyeon had said at the announcement had left quite an impression.
“Those people who snickered at you, the reporters… Are you ready to make them eat their words? All you have to do is show that you can do it right now. Just do it!”
“Just do it.” That line helped a lot.
Maybe because it came from the same man who, at the beginning when he helped with her acting practice, had offered neither praise nor much encouragement, his words felt especially meaningful.
Remembering that, as she was getting her makeup done on the bus, someone spoke to her in a warm voice.
“Do you remember me? I saw you on a drama set when you were little.”
“Sorry?”
“You were so young you probably don’t remember?”
Yeonji looked closely at the staffer who’d spoken to her.
For young Yeonji, the set had been a scary, harsh place: directors and staff shouting back and forth, and endless waiting outside with no idea when it would end.
A child actor exhausted by grueling shoots and no one spared her a thought.
Mostly, they treated her like she wasn’t even there, not giving her so much as a glance. That was what she remembered most.
But when she saw the face of the staffer doing her makeup now, one happy memory surfaced amid all those awful ones.
On a bitterly cold day, when she’d been trembling on set, a cup of cocoa that had thawed her frozen body, if only a little. She could almost smell that sweet cocoa at the tip of her nose.
“Uh… didn’t you make me cocoa?”
“Oh my, oh my! You do remember!”
The staffer beamed.
“You were so cute back then, and now you’ve become so beautiful. You grew up exactly the same. And I watched everything you were in. I’m a total fan!”
“Th-thank you.”
When Yeonji spoke and gave a shy smile, the staffer smiled like she found it adorable and said,
“Even if people are a bit all over the place here, don’t worry too much. It was just the same for Park Junsik’s first shoot.”
“Sorry? Were you on the makeup team for, too?”
“I did as well, actually. People line up to work with Director Gyeong. But he keeps using the same folks every time, you know? Not that I’m not grateful, but he can be a little old-fashioned.”
The staffer tapped Yeonji playfully and went on,
“Back then, it was Junsik’s first time shooting a film, and he wasn’t known at all—one of the camera guys mistook him for crew and had him hauling equipment. Ha ha, isn’t that hilarious?”
Yeonji couldn’t help but chuckle at the story.
The more she saw of Park Junsik, the nicer he seemed, contrary to the first impression.
They’d talked a lot, though most of it was him bragging about his son like a silly uncle.
And he’d apologized after the casting was finalized, saying he’d acted cold on purpose at the first meeting because he was trying to stay immersed in Kim Sangcheol.
“All done. How is it?”
The first scene was one that revealed Lee Sohee’s character while she dried her hair.
Director Gyeong said he wanted a stark contrast between her dressed to the nines and with nothing done at all, and suggested they overlay not a bare face but makeup that actually made her look haggard.
And that request resulted in a perfect look rendered on Yeonji’s face.
“Your bare face is so pretty we have to make you look worse on purpose… honestly, doing your makeup like this makes me feel a little bad.”
Looking at her face made a bit less pretty, Yeonji smiled, satisfied.
“Thank you! Unnie, what are you doing after the shoot? Dinner’s on me!”
“Sorry?”
“At least let me pay you back for that cocoa from when I was little. Haha!”
“Then should I make you a cup now? I’ve still got the touch, you know?”
Sitting at the monitor, I looked over the finished set.
With the art director Kim Juri’s meticulous touch, the set really looked like a home Lee Sohee would live in.
A luxury chandelier reflected a hint of vanity, and the wall cabinet displayed the journalism awards she’d received.
And the carefully arranged props showed off their lovely lines as if to boast that they were all handcrafted.
“Wow…”
Jinsu hyung beside me seemed unable to suppress a genuine exclamation at the sight of the set.
“I want to live in a place like this. Man, how much is a table like that?”
“Hundreds, I’d guess?”
“That’s insane. Hundreds for a table?”
Juri noona must have heard us talking, because she laughed brightly and said,
“Four hundred fifty.”
“Yikes… that single thing costs more than my monthly paycheck?”
Jinsu hyung’s jaw dropped, and Juri nuna tapped my shoulder and said,
“You know why it’s fun working with Director Gyeong?”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have to worry about money! Other directors would tell me to just fake it, but you care about the details. Makes it a great job. No stress.”
Like she said, I wasn’t the type to pinch pennies on sets, but I’d asked them to put special care into this house.
From the very first scene, we’d be showing almost the entire house as we followed Yeonji’s movements, and it needed to make a big impact to kick off the film.
As I got up and wandered around the set, I saw Yeonji approaching from afar.
“Sunbae. Want this?”
Sipping from one steaming cup of cocoa, she handed me the other.
“Thanks. How do you feel right now? You okay?”
“I feel great. Just like you said, I can just do it!”
She answered with a radiant smile, like something wonderful had happened.
The articles that had rained down on her, the negative attention from people—
Seeing that bright smile made me think maybe I’d worried for nothing, and I could finally relax a little.
“That’s good to hear. We’re starting soon. Let’s get ready.”
“Yes!”
She headed for the set, and once she was gone, Jinsu hyung beside me spoke.
“You think she can pull it off? Feels like a really tough one for a first scene.”
“Hyung, that’s a useless worry. You don’t trust me?”
“I do. I do, but… after the last project, I’m not sure. Junsik didn’t have a previous work to compare to.”
“Just watch once we start. You won’t be seeing Yeonji.”
A moment later, all the crew seemed ready and awaited my cue.
“Ready!”
“Scene 1, Cut 1, Take 1!”
Clack!
“Action!”
With wet hair, Yeonji came out of the bathroom.
We started with a bust shot at a level angle. Framing just her upper body while keeping the camera level to render the subject realistically.
As she trudged from the bathroom to her room, the camera followed at a natural pace so the props behind her would be revealed properly.
When the background had been shown enough, according to her blocking, Yeonji slowly sat at the vanity and looked into the mirror.
As she sat, the camera lowered to match her pace and tilted the angle slightly downward to naturally create a low angle.
Using the low angle to imprint on the audience from the first moment that Lee Sohee has a strong image. This was the intent.
As intended, the way she was captured yielded a powerful impression.
And that wasn’t all.
The look in her eyes as she gazed into the mirror.
Those eyes looked like she loved herself, maybe even like she was obsessed with herself.
“Cut! Okay! Nice!”
“Whoa…”
Jinsu hyung beside me gaped in admiration.
It’s easy and convenient to tell the audience what a character is through lines.
But to wordlessly communicate what kind of character this is requires the actor, camera, art, lighting and many departments—breathing as one.
We nailed it on the very first take.
Monitoring the footage, I couldn’t have been happier.
“I thought we’d need at least dozens of takes… both the acting is tough and coordinating it with the camera… what is even happening…”
Beside me, Jinsu hyung muttered to himself in astonishment, and the crew around us murmured in surprise as well.
It may look easy when audiences see it, but the people making it know how hard a scene like this is.
“Is that really Kwak Yeonji…? It’s so different from what she showed in dramas…”
“I thought we’d be shooting only this all day… Did we really finish this easily?”
“Nice, sounds like we’re getting off super early today, too.”
When their murmurs began to die down, Yeonji came toward the monitor and asked, a bit anxiously,
“Is it really okay?”
“Oh, Yeonji-ssi. It’s fantastic. It’s a smash.”
Like a tomboy, Jinsu hyung gave her a thumbs-up, looking a little shy and awkward.
“Chan-hyun’s gone and made a diamond out of a rough stone again. Ha! Unbelievable!”
Thump!
Jinsu hyung jabbed me playfully in the ribs with his elbow.
“Ugh…”
“Hey! How many times have I told you to stop whining!”
“Hyung… I can’t breathe…”
Seeing me like that, Yeonji covered her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.
“Hey… you think it’s funny to laugh at the director?”
When I teased, she suddenly put on a straight face.
“(Inhales.) Nope. I wasn’t laughing.”
“Wow, Chanhyeon, I didn’t think you were like this—with someone younger than you, huh? Throwing your weight around? Yeonji can laugh if she wants!”
Thump!
“Urk.”
Watching my face turn red, Yeonji couldn’t hold it back anymore and burst out laughing.
“Yeah. Yeonji-ssi. Keep smiling like that. Heh heh. You’re even prettier when you smile! I wish my daughter were half as pretty as you.”
“Our genes are different, so how would that…”
“What?”
“Nothing, hyung.”
After laughing for a good while, Yeonji calmed down and asked me,
“Can I watch it once?”
“Yeah. Take a look. You were really good.”
At my answer, she turned to the small monitor to watch herself.
Even though she acted like she was fine, maybe she was a little nervous,she clenched her hands while she waited for herself to appear on screen.
A moment later, when her image came up, she seemed amazed.
“Good, right?”
“Yes… it’s different. For sure… It’s completely different from how I’ve looked in my other projects… It’s amazing how I come across like that. Seriously, wow…”
Seeing her reaction, I felt proud.
I’d secretly worried about asking her to cut her hair short, but she seemed to really like how she looked on screen.
“Let’s keep doing it just like this, all the way. Yeonji-ssi. If you just trust and follow this punk Gyeong Chanhyeon here, we’ll be done in no time. Heh heh. He’s more capable than he looks, y’know?”
Hearing Jinsu hyung’s praise sent a chill down my spine.
Because without fail, something always came flying right after a compliment.
I saw his hand going up and subtly sidestepped, and he ended up swiping at empty air.
“Oh, quick on your feet?”
“We’ve worked together how many times now? I’ve at least learned that much, hyung.”
At my reply, he laughed loudly, and Yeonji beamed, too.
A few days after the first shoot wrapped.
Yeonji woke up feeling refreshed. She went straight to wash up.
She’d never looked forward to filming this much.
Up till now, sets had mostly been cold and awful.
Staff and directors shouting. Power games among the actors.
When it looked like the shoot would run long, the staff would all make sour faces and take their frustration out on each other like everyone else was a punching bag.
To avoid becoming a punching bag herself, Yeonji, too, had often lost her temper on those sets.
Maybe that’s why, as the episode count went on, the atmosphere got worse and worse.
Those past sets had been closer to a battlefield in some ways.
But Director Gyeong Chanhyeon’s set was peaceful.
It felt like moving as one body, breathing together.
The shoot times were actually much shorter than her previous works, but the quality wasn’t even comparable. There was no time wasted for no reason.
“Yeonji! You all set?”
She heard Go Sangwoo call, and Yeonji answered in a lively voice.
“Yes!”
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