The editing room of “War of Villains.”
Tak. Click.
The space was filled with the sounds of keys being struck and a mouse being used.
“Hoo…”
After a long while, Choi Yechan let out a deep sigh and leaned back against his chair.
“It’s done.”
The long, long edit was finally finished.
Normally, once editing wrapped, the whole team would be happy at the thought of resting.
“Yaaawn…”
“I feel like I’m going to die.”
“It’s finally over.”
There wasn’t a trace of strength left in any of them as they each exhaled a sigh.
It was no wonder they were exhausted. They’d been working late nights as routinely as eating meals.
“Everyone, let’s call it a day. You all worked hard on the edit.”
Clap.
To the team members slumped over their desks or limp against their chairs, Choi Yechan clapped and spoke.
You’ve worked hard, so clock out and get some proper rest.
Choi Yechan wasn’t the sort to be so tyrannical as to work his staff to the bone.
“You worked even harder, Director!”
“Right. If you hadn’t helped, we wouldn’t have finished this fast.”
“Thank you, Director!”
At the editors’ words, the corners of Choi Ye-chan’s mouth lifted slightly.
He had been the director, but he hadn’t stopped at directing. He’d jumped into editing as well.
He stepped in because he wanted the edit to come out just a bit better.
From the team’s perspective, his help was what made the edit finish quickly.
“Okay, great work, everyone. Go home and get some good rest.”
After seeing them off himself, Choi Yechan returned to the editing room.
Just because the edit was done didn’t mean all of his work was.
“I can do a few simple tasks here.”
There were a few things to handle before the screening.
He could do those tasks on his own, so he didn’t work his employees any further.
“Director Choi, you’ll have a drink later, right?”
“Ah, sure. Could you give me just a bit? I’ll finish within an hour.”
“Let’s do it together. Work done by two people gets cut in half, right?”
“You don’t have to… but I’ll gladly take the help.”
Exchanging a few words with the editing supervisor, Choi Yechan smiled faintly.
Watching the supervisor head back to his seat, Choi Yechan returned to his own work.
Only after nearly an hour passed was he able to stand up.
“Really, that’s it. Done.”
Even looking at the screen any longer was hard.
Rising from his seat, he walked over to the editing supervisor.
On the monitor, he could see a sequence that had just been finished.
“Shall we go? It’s my treat.”
“We’re eating something good tonight. Let’s go!”
Brightening, the supervisor stepped out of the editing room.
Following behind him, Choi Yechan glanced back at a screen set up in the room.
There was a monitor playing a cut from “War of Villains.”
A scene where Han Seongtae fights Kim Mu-cheol.
Walking up to the monitor, he switched the power off.
“I wonder what Seongtae’s been up to lately.”
He’d practically shut himself off from the world during editing.
He had no idea what Han Seongtae was doing at the moment.
“I think he said he was filming a drama. Maybe I should give him a call.”
Murmuring under his breath, Choi Yechan pulled the smartphone from his pocket.
Knock, knock.
Han Seongtae knocked on the door.
At the sound, the color drained from Seo Harin’s face inside the building.
“Open up. If you don’t, I’m really going to break it down.”
It was Choi Deoksu’s voice. (*Seongtae’s acting as the serial killer)
He drew the hammer back.
KWAANG!
With that, he smashed the door.
Under his hammering, the door that was just a prop shattered to pieces.
Crunch, crack.
Stepping on the debris scattered across the floor, Choi Deoksu followed the fleeing Seo Harin into the interior.
“Ready or not, here I come. I can see your hair. Ready or not, here I come. I can see your hair.”
Humming a tune, Choi Deoksu prowled through the house.
He arrived at the entrance to a small room.
Knock, knock, knock.
His hand rapped on the door, but there was no answer from inside.
“There’s nowhere to hide but here. Do you think you can keep that up?”
Even at his voice, no sound came from within.
Silence fell, and the upturned corners of Choi Deoksu’s mouth lowered.
Bang, KWAANG!
Expressionless, he began to smash down the small room’s door.
Bang! Crack!
With each swing of the hammer, the wooden door didn’t just break—it splintered.
“Ha…”
After swinging the tool for a while, Choi Deoksu let out a mirthless laugh at the sight beyond the door.
From the bed on out, all sorts of furniture had been stacked to block the entrance.
Behind that barricade, Seo Harin, face stricken with fear, stared at him. It looked like she intended to hold out like this until morning.
“Hm…”
Even if he broke through like this, it would take a long while.
He’d already wasted quite a bit of time playing hide-and-seek; he didn’t have time for that much labor.
Peering through the gaps between the furniture into the room, Choi Deoksu turned and left the house.
“Huff… huff…”
Inside, Yoon Heeyeon wondered at the sight of Choi Deoksu suddenly retreating.
He wasn’t someone who would back off like this.
Now that he’d even shown his face, there was no way he would leave Yoon Heeyeon and run.
Crouched far from the entrance, Yoon Heeyeon darted her eyes around to grasp the situation.
CRASH!
At the same moment, the window by her head shattered, and a massive hand seized her hair.
“Kyaaa!”
At the hand grabbing her hair, Yoon Heeyeon screamed.
“Guh!”
At a sound from behind, Han Seongtae released the handful of hair he was holding.
“Are you okay?”
“…Yes, I’m okay.”
Her voice shook badly as she answered his worried question.
“Did I go too far?”
There were times when, focused on acting, he failed to pay attention to Seo Harin’s condition.
No matter how much he’d focused before, he’d never immersed this deeply.
[‘The One of A Thousand Faces’ smiles in satisfaction, saying a very good scene was captured.]
[‘The One of A Thousand Faces’ says you have a talent for villain roles.]
There was no way the influence of the god of acting wasn’t at play.
“Hoo…”
As much as the immersion made for a good scene, he couldn’t help but worry about Seo Harin.
“I’ll go drink some water.”
“Okay.”
Watching her hurriedly retreat, Han Seongtae gave a wry smile.
The more he acted, the more Seo Harin’s emotions were heightened.
On this last day of filming, he could feel that she was truly afraid, not just acting.
“Good work. Ms. Harin, you worked hard too.”
“Yes, thank you for your hard work.”
Perhaps because of the aftershock of the acting, she staggered as she left.
As Han Seongtae watched her go with concern, Kim Minseok came up to him and spoke.
“Hey, you’re insane. How can you act that terrifyingly?”
“Did it come out well?”
“Not just ‘well.’ Perfect.”
Seeing Kim Minseok speak with such conviction, Han Seongtae let out a laugh.
“Thank you all for your hard work filming.”
All filming for “Haru” had wrapped.
On the way home in Jung Dusik’s car.
After dropping off Kim Minseok and Seo Harin, it was just Han Seongtae and Jung Dusik left in the car, and it was quite quiet.
How long did they drive?
Bzzz.
Han Seongtae’s smartphone rang, and a familiar name appeared.
“Who is it?”
“Uh… Director Choi Yechan.”
“Who…?”
“Director Choi Yechan. May I take this call?”
“Of course!”
At Jung Dusik’s gesture to answer, Han Seongtae nodded.
“Yes, Director.”
—Oh, Seongtae, how’ve you been?
Choi Ye-chan’s voice came friendly and warm.
“I’m always doing well. How about you, Director?”
—Me? Same as always. I called to let you know the edit finished today, so the trailer will go out soon.
“Ah, thank you.”
—I should be the one thanking you. You acted so well we got a lot of great scenes. Let’s grab a meal sometime. We can talk about that drama you filmed, too.
“I’d be happy to anytime.”
Who could ever refuse an invitation from Choi Yechan?
At least, Han Seongtae couldn’t.
—What are you up to these days?
“I made a movie with a friend. We’re going to submit it to a short-film contest this summer.”
—Yeah? A contest in the summer, huh… I’ll have to look into it. Alright. I was just curious what you’ve been doing lately, so I called. I’ve got an appointment now, so I’ll get going.
“Yes, get home safe!”
Ending the call with Choi Yechan, Han Seongtae turned his head at the gaze he felt from the side.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Jung Dusik was staring at him blankly.
“At this rate, we’re going to blow up big.”
Back home, Kim Minseok didn’t even think about washing up; he planted himself at the worktable.
His heart was already pounding fast at the thought of editing today’s scenes and all the footage they’d shot up to now.
What kind of work would this become?
“Seongtae and Ms. Harin both did really, really well.”
As he launched the editing program, Kim Minseok’s face flushed.
They were going to make something anyone would admire.
His mouth quirked up as he gripped the mouse tight.
With filming on the movie “Haru” finished, Han Seongtae focused on the musical.
As the lead, he moved with the intent to do his utmost so as not to be a burden to those around him.
—Ahn Jae-woo (Class Rep): Posting the script and the cast participation list.
—Ahn Jae-woo (Class Rep): Please check.
A notice from the class rep appeared in the group chat.
There was the script, and a list of which people would be acting in which roles.
Han Seongtae downloaded the script first.
“The amount is considerable.”
Perhaps because he had taken on the role of the martyr, the lead and the most crucial to the flow of the musical’s story.
His share was overwhelming compared to the other roles.
“They trusted me with it; I’d better do it right.”
Of course, he wasn’t greatly worried.
He was no longer the talentless Han Seongtae of his previous life.
[‘The Actor of Eternal Youth’ props his chin and looks over the script’s contents.]
At Han Seongtae’s side, the gods of acting were with him.
That alone was more than enough to give him confidence.
Bzzz.
—Ahn Jae-woo (Class Rep): First-years will be participating, so please note.
Just as he’d looked over the script and lay down in bed to sleep—
At the group chat’s alert sound, he checked the screen and blinked.
First-years participating… what was that about?
[Gentleman: Ju Hanjae (1st year)]
[Station Staff: Choi Hyerim (1st year)]
Names recorded with “1st year.”
And at the end, there was one more name.
[Spy: Kim Rina (1st year)]
At the very familiar name, Han Seongtae’s eyes went round.
T/N: 하루 (haru) → it means “one day” / “a day”
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