After wrapping up filming in Sokcho, I returned to Seoul.
Since I’d managed a pretty packed schedule, I had two days off starting today.
Even after the vacation ended, my filming schedule for the next week was less hectic than before.
It wasn’t completely free, but I only had to shoot one or two scenes a day.
“Whew.”
Since it was my first vacation in a long time, I had slept in lazily.
Even so, it was only nine in the morning.
I woke up early because I often had to get up at dawn in Sokcho to be on standby.
“Siwoo, did you sleep well?”
“Yeah… Mom, I want soup.”
Still half-asleep, I stumbled out, and Mom led me to the bathroom.
Washing my face cleared my head.
I came out to the living room and had a cozy breakfast with Mom for the first time in ages.
“What are you going to do today, Siwoo?”
“Hmm…”
I wanted to lie on the couch all day watching TV.
But saying that would surely disappoint Mom.
Or maybe I wanted to go to Bisangcheolddo 777 for the first time in ages to meet Kim Sangcheol and Kang Yonghwi, but I knew Mom would worry I wasn’t resting properly.
After thinking for a moment, I came up with the perfect answer.
“How about going to the reading class?”
“Really? Then let’s go together.”
That was definitely the right answer.
Seeing my mother’s bright smile, I nodded.
She’s always worried that I don’t interact enough with kids my age, so I have to reassure her somehow.
She went out of her way to find this place for me when I decided to skip kindergarten to pursue acting, so I should at least show my face once in a while.
Holding my mother’s hand for the first time in ages, we arrived at the library.
The teacher at the reading class, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, welcomed me even more warmly than before.
“Oh my, Siwoo, you came! I thought you wouldn’t be able to come lately because you’re so busy.”
It was obvious she was a viewer of The Cactus Flower Has Bloomed.
My mother said goodbye, asking her to take good care of me, and left the library.
She was probably going grocery shopping or to Dad’s chicken restaurant.
Six children, including me, gathered for today’s reading class.
We decided to read the storybook the teacher assigned together, then take a break and share our thoughts.
Not long after the books were handed out, the children who finished early headed to the playground inside the children’s library or to the outdoor lounge.
While sharing impressions is important, one of the class’s goals is also for children to socialize with their peers, so the teacher didn’t stop them.
After all, when the time came, they would have to gather here and talk.
Today’s book was The Ugly Duckling.
For me, who reads thick scripts every day and memorizes not just my own lines but everyone else’s too, the story was too short.
Still, the content itself is really good.
Not just for children, but for adults to read too.
I finished it in no time and, feeling too lazy to move, stayed seated where I was.
Then, the teacher approached me with sparkling eyes.
“Siwoo, isn’t filming hard?”
“It’s better than I thought. Acting is fun too.”
“I see. Finding something you love at such a young age is amazing.”
“Yes.”
Well, it’s not like I just realized this after six years.
I realized it in my past life and have loved it ever since, so it’s been nearly thirty years now.
“Isn’t it hard filming with adults at such a young age?”
“Hmm, it’s fine. Everyone treats me really well.”
At that, the teacher’s eyes suddenly lit up.
“Oh? Then Mr. Moon Heeseong must treat you well too.”
Ah, Teacher.
Seems like you’re a fan of Moon Heeseong.
I could tell right away from the way his face lit up twice as brightly as before.
“Yes. He treats me really well. He treats Yeonsu hyung well too. And the staff as well.”
I didn’t mention that I hang out at Moon Heeseong’s place every night after filming ends.
If I said that, I definitely wouldn’t be able to get out of this easily.
“Alright, Siwoo. Good luck with filming! I’ll be watching every week.”
“Yes, thank you.”
After finishing my conversation with the teacher, who looked cheerful and happy, I looked around and saw a girl sitting alone at a table besides me.
The other kids had finished their books long ago and gone out to play, but this girl was engrossed in something.
Her name was… ‘Lee Hyein’, right?
She was a girl with natural brown hair, a year older than me.
Even though she hadn’t started school yet, glasses were perched on her face.
Wearing glasses already.
I get it.
Even during break time, she had her nose buried in her workbook.
Wondering what she was working so hard on, I quietly moved closer to her.
“What are you doing?”
“…!”
All the other kids had run off, so her being the only one left like this made her stand out.
She must not have expected anyone to talk to her; Lee Hyein jumped in surprise.
I didn’t expect her to be so startled.
“…Solving math problems.”
“Oh. Is it fun?”
“Fun…? Does it have to be fun?”
Lee Hyein replied curtly, as if asking why I’d ask such a thing.
I looked down at the worksheet the child, only seven years old, was solving – adding and subtracting fractions.
Her pencil had stopped moving while answering my question.
Even with her small hands, she was gripping the pencil tightly with all her strength, trying not to drop it.
Hmm, I don’t know what the standard is for kids in this culture.
But isn’t this too early?
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Because I have to. Mom told me to.”
Lee Hyein answered, frowning as if finding it increasingly strange.
“You do it just because your mom tells you to?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Don’t you do things you want to do?”
“…I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it. Mom gets mad.”
As if to say enough already, Lee Hyein abruptly turned her head away and started solving the problems again.
I watched the child solve the problems for a long while before I realized something.
I’d been wondering why this child had been bothering me since earlier, but now I understood.
Strangely, Nam Yeonsu overlapped with this child’s image.
Her expression and aura resembled Nam Yeonsu’s, so my eyes were drawn to her without me realizing it.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
She looked stifled, somehow not free.
Why could I see these children’s inner lives so clearly at a glance? Pondering it, the answer came simply.
Because in a past life, I had worn that same face.
Back when I was Noah Battenberg, I was surrounded by countless tutors from childhood to cultivate the manners and refinement expected of the youngest son of a duke.
Not a single subject among them was something I truly wanted to learn.
Ah, I suppose I did look forward to writing lessons occasionally.
Conversations with Miss Kaprin, who enjoyed reading countless books across all genres, were always delightful and enjoyable.
Knowledgeable as she was, she gave excellent critiques of my writing.
She’d point out things like, “It would be better if you thought about this a little more,” or “This part could be improved by changing it like this.”
She never spared praise, finding the parts where my imagination ran wild particularly fascinating.
That’s probably why.
While other tutors taught stiffly out of obligation, Ms. Kaprin genuinely seemed to find teaching me interesting.
Well, maybe they stuck to that attitude because I showed no interest in anything besides writing.
What if I hadn’t gone to that theater when I was nine?
I might have lived a life dictated by my parents, just like them.
Still, back then, I had the status of being the youngest son, so I enjoyed a fairly happy childhood.
I could do whatever I wanted and get whatever I desired.
Being the youngest son meant I was under slightly less scrutiny than my older brothers, too.
And above all, I held onto the play I saw at nine years old in my heart.
After that, I lived by listening more intently to Ms. Kaprin’s classes and writing scripts for plays I wanted to see on my own.
Having thought that far, I suddenly stared blankly at Lee Hyein, who seemed busy solving math problems.
Could Nam Yeonsu be in the same situation?
Was some pressure I didn’t know about being put on that child?
After a week of relaxed filming in Seoul, we returned to Sokcho.
Today was supposed to be a full day of outdoor filming near the beach, but a sudden downpour canceled the entire afternoon schedule.
Taking advantage of wrapping up early, Cha Ilnam dragged everyone to a nearby seafood restaurant for a team dinner.
This time, Han Yuju had also come down to Sokcho, so nearly all the staff and actors attended.
“Wow, it’s just pouring down suddenly?”
“We should’ve shot the rain scene today. No need to rent a water truck.”
Though the downpour wasn’t in the forecast, the staff’s expressions weren’t particularly gloomy.
Since the seaside was the drama’s main setting, Cha Ilnam tended to schedule around the capricious coastal weather.
They could afford this flexibility because they always packed in a lot of shooting whenever they came down to Sokcho.
This luxury was possible because the entire script had been completed in advance.
“Thanks to the rain, we all get to have a team dinner together. Isn’t that great?”
Han Yuju, her face bright, led today’s dinner gathering.
Her hair was pulled up in a simple bun, and she wore comfortable, casual clothes.
Her outfit wasn’t much different from what she wore on other drama sets, but her expression was completely different.
She was the one who always had dark circles under her eyes from having to hand in scripts on time, but this time, she looked pretty good.
Plus, the response was great every time it aired. Han Yooju was enjoying going to work lately, whether it was the broadcasting station or the set.
“Writer Han, you look refreshed! Really refreshed!”
“Ah, Director Kim. If every day could be like this lately, I couldn’t ask for more.”
As the drizzle fell steadily, steaming bowls of spicy fish stew were placed on every table.
“Alright, let’s have a drink!”
At Cha Ilnam’s shout, the staff raised their glasses one after another.
I grabbed the cola glass my uncle poured and jumped to my feet.
It was the only way to match the height of the adults sitting down for the toast.
The cola in my glass brimmed dangerously, nearly spilling over.
Mom only ever gave me sips of cola when eating chicken, but my uncle pours it this full when it’s just the two of us.
That’s our uncle for you. The best manager ever.
“Huh? Siwoo wants to join too?”
“Of course! Cheers are fun!”
“What? You like cheers? Ha ha ha.”
“Is this kid really six? Ha ha.”
At Dad’s chicken restaurant, customers would often do this ‘cheers’ thing too.
Back in the Noah days in England, we didn’t have this.
I was curious about this culture and once looked it up in a book at reading class.
It originated from clinking glasses until they overflowed, to show trust that the other person hadn’t poisoned your drink.
That it’s carried on until now – isn’t that a truly romantic story?
I love this kind of romance.
“Cheers!!”
Holding my cola high and shouting loudly, the staff around me smiled and found it adorable.
“Do you really like toasting that much, Siwoo?”
“Yes!”
No wonder—I rarely went to these company dinners, and in the era I lived in, this culture didn’t exist either.
Doing what I want with good people? Of course I’m excited.
“Kya-ha.”
I downed the cola in one shot and eagerly ate the fish meat my uncle picked off for me.
Then, Nam Yeonsu, picking at his spicy stew, came into my view.
Spicy stew might not be to a child’s taste.
But why does that kid look so miserable today?
I frowned and studied Nam Yeonsu.
Was it because of the image of my past life that surfaced in the ‘Reading Classroom’?
I couldn’t just stand by and watch anymore.
What story was that child carrying?
I needed to confirm first if my guess was right.
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