“Ha Kichan” approached his role as a first-time teacher with enthusiasm and treated his students with care.
He was the kind of teacher who could differentiate between what he couldn’t do and what he found bothersome to do, and he believed that assisting students was the essence of being a teacher, even if it meant tolerating a bit of inconvenience.
Therefore, he did not neglect “Yeonwu,” a student whom other teachers avoided.
A tiny kindness born out of conscience and professional spirit.
However, when “Yeonwu,” who received that kindness, couldn’t contain his overwhelming confusion and joy, shedding tears, “Kichan’s” kindness became sincere.
Suhyeon and Seohan portrayed this introductory scene of their relationship with compelling authenticity.
Suhyeon’s tears were so sorrowful and pitiable that they made the viewers’ eyes well up, while Seohan’s delicate facial expressions perfectly captured the rapid emotional changes “Kichan” experienced in that short moment.
The shooting pace skyrocketed as the part anticipated to be most challenging passed without a hitch.
“Suhyeon is really good at crying scenes.”
“Hehe. Thank you.”
“What’s there to thank me for? You’re just good at it.”
Suhyeon chuckled softly as he sipped warm soy milk.
Unlike the bustling surroundings, the area where the lead actors were felt like a different, more relaxed space.
It’s comfortable because I’m perfectly in sync with Seohan-hyung.
Maybe it was because he had practiced using Seohan’s acting as a textbook.
Regardless of their level of skill, Regardless of their differing skill levels, Suhyeon and Seohan were remarkably in sync.
and Seohan were remarkably in sync.
They understood what kind of performance the other wanted to deliver without much discussion and excellently compensated for subtle scenes that could have led to NGs.
The feeling was different from just acting well.
Rather than intricate gears, they were more like water droplets merging into one.
…Honestly, I’m receiving a lot of help. It’s a bit humbling.
Of course, there was a gap in skill and experience, but that was beside the point.
The seamless chemistry between the actors made it difficult for the filming crew to keep up with the pace.
The PD and staff had to reschedule, and as equipment and cameras moved busily, the actors took a breather.
“What were you thinking about when you cried? It felt so real.”
“Um. I just thought about how sad Yeonwu must have been, and then, suddenly, the tears came.”
“…That’s amazing.”
Suhyeon casually sipped his drink, avoiding Seohan’s question.
Keeping his mouth shut was better than engaging in an unwanted topic.
As if I could tell.
Thinking back on the times before regression when he received unfair treatment and was told, “Idols like you are a dime a dozen.”
And how he had to swallow his frustration and tears upon returning to his dorm.
A future that had now vanished, making it even more impossible for Suhyeon to speak out.
Back then, really, huh…
He reminisced about a future that was no longer going to come.
Hating the meals at his extended family’s home, he had accepted a scouting offer on the street right after his discharge, but the idol life was far from easy.
The harsh competition was matched only by the industry’s exploitation.
The promise of repaying success after a day or two faded as years passed.
Smiling didn’t mean happiness.
If it had seemed impossible, I should have given up on success and looked for another way, but I foolishly clung to being an idol… It’s fortunate that I made it in acting. I was really young back then.
As he stepped back, Suhyeon saw his past self more clearly.
Staying in the entertainment industry for four years despite such treatment was impressive.
Was it because the CEO persuaded me well? After all, he filled me with hopes of recognition and love upon success… I pity myself for being so gullible.
Suhyeon remembered Jiyeon and Hochan, who always welcomed him with bright smiles whenever their eyes met.
Receiving unconditional love from his parents filled a void in his heart, little by little.
Although not entirely healed, it no longer hurt as much as the past that felt piercing just by thinking about it.
And he realized how obsessed his former self was with success in that vanished future.
The fear of being deprived of love was terrifying.
The desire to succeed in acting remains the same, though…
Suhyeon tapped his thigh.
There was a difference between striving for success and living only for success, a distinction he hadn’t understood back then.
“…Suhyeon? Suhyeon.”
“Ah, yes, hyung.”
“What are you so deep in thought about? They said we’re starting to shoot again.”
“Yes!”
Caught in his thoughts, Suhyeon smiled brightly at the sound of being called.
The adults looking at him, the camera, and the bright lights.
After a decent break, it was time to work again.
* * *
“Here’s your lunch box, Mr. Actor. Suhyeon, here’s yours too.”
“Thank you.”
Suhyeon bowed his head as he received the lunchbox secured with a rubber band.
Lunch was delayed, and he felt like his stomach would start making noises, not from acting but from actual hunger.
It was really mean to make us work while starving.
There was time for water and snacks, but meals were a different story.
Taking more than a 10-minute break could disrupt the atmosphere and flow of the filming.
So it wasn’t until almost 2 PM that the actors could finally step out from behind the cameras to grab their lunch boxes.
“Did you check the schedule change for the afternoon? We’re also shooting at the convenience store scene later today.”
“I thought it would be quick since we were doing well, but guess not…”
“Except for the leads, most of the others are paid by the day, so there’s hardly ever an early wrap.”
“Ugh…”
“You need to eat well if you want to keep your energy up for the afternoon. Don’t be picky.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t seem too busy… Why has your manager been away from you all day?”
“I’m young, so he said he’d stay away in case he passes on a cold.”
While peeling the spoon’s wrapper, Suhyeon momentarily gazed at Sangil, who was talking with the PD, before continuing.
As soon as Sangil arrived on set, he removed his mask and interacted with people.
Among sensitive directors, there were those who disliked it when their subordinates showed signs of being unwell, and often, this extended to the actors’ managers.
Especially in cases like Sangil’s, where he looked perfectly healthy and wasn’t even coughing, some might prematurely speculate other motives.
The world is harsh. Of course, it’s true that hyung has gotten better but…
That’s as far as his thoughts went before he accepted reality.
Jiyeon had just overreacted out of concern for her son.
Sangil’s cold had never been that severe to begin with.
The reason Sangil wasn’t approaching Suhyeon now was more to avoid the unfortunate coincidence of seeming ill, rather than an actual concern about transmitting his cold.
Mom was a bit naggy, no, that’s an understatement… I should treat hyung better.
Suhyeon momentarily intended to defend his family but then reflected and took off his rose-colored glasses.
No matter how much Jiyeon worried, from Manager Sangil’s perspective, it must have been an unwelcome surprise.
Understanding the situation yet covering it up just because it was family wasn’t right.
“Oh, so that was it?”
“What was?”
“This morning, he gave me coffee and asked me to keep an eye on you since he figured it’d be hard for him to stay close.”
Seohan mentioned it was his favorite brand, which he drank every morning.
But since there wasn’t a branch nearby, he complimented Sangil’s resourcefulness.
So, it wasn’t just a friendly gesture.
Hearing this, Suhyeon managed to hide a creeping disappointment.
Having sought out the bus on his own and even shared lunch, he had thought they’d become closer, but there was another reason all along.
“Normally, I would have said no to others. I find kids a bit challenging.”
“I’m not challenging, am I?”
“Uh, how should I put this… You’re more of a direct hoobae than a child?”
Seohan, who felt Suhyeon was more of a colleague and hoobae to look after rather than a child to care for, tried to laugh it off, adding that he hadn’t forgotten Suhyeon was still young.
Wow, this guy really knows how to play with people’s emotions.
Suhyeon once again masked his expression.
If the emotion he hid before was disappointment, this time it was an odd sense of elation.
Being acknowledged as a “colleague” by a role model was significant.
It wasn’t about being equals, but acknowledgment was acknowledgment.
Yeah, what disappointment? If I’m lacking, this is the chance to get closer!
With a newfound positivity, he aggressively stuffed his mouth with rice.
To build rapport aggressively, Suhyeon knew he first needed a sugar rush.
“The praise feels easier to handle than during Promise of the Blue Summer, maybe because we have the full script.”
“That’s true.”
Initiating a mealtime conversation on common topics, Suhyeon chattered away with a clear voice.
Topical scenarios, completed scripts, and reasonable product placement.
He listed the merits of Praise that, while not financially motivated, greatly appealed to the actors.
“Right. There are so many projects where just the signing bonus is satisfying, but this one is worth the financial loss.”
This approach proved quite successful, and Seohan, too, enthusiastically shared his opinion, his eyes sparkling like a child’s.
True to someone who loved acting, his passion was exceptional.
“It was frustrating when the agency only looked at the signing bonuses, but this is fun for a change… But Suhyeon.”
“Yes?”
“Aren’t you six years old?”
Amidst his passionate talk, Seohan suddenly looked at Suhyeon with a peculiar gaze.
He might have felt a sense of incongruity toward Suhyeon, who, despite his young age, showcased adept speaking skills.
Due to the all-too-familiar skepticism, Suhyeon brightly and clearly smiled and spread out six fingers.
“Yes! Suhyeon is six years old!”
“Have you been practicing separately at an academy?”
“Yes! I go to an acting school! Teacher Siyeong is great! It’s fun!”
“Must be a good teacher then. Do you… I mean, do you discuss a lot of things with her?”
“Yes! When I grow up… Teacher always says I’m amazing!”
“Really amazing. If only all kids were like you, I’d have no wishes.”
“Suhyeon is special, you shouldn’t say that to other kids.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.”
As Suhyeon proudly raised his nose, Seohan let out a small laugh.
On his smiling face, there was no trace of the doubts that had momentarily frozen him.
Today also, victory after victory…. Well, suspecting such an innocent and cute kid is wrong, after all.
A precocious child giving off an uncomfortable feeling.
But if that maturity was a pretense, and if the child was adorable, people would write off their initial discomfort as a mistake.
That’s why Suhyeon’s “six-year-old act” had worked so far.
“I had a great meal! I’m going to the restroom.”
“Should I accompany you?”
“No! I’m all grown up. I can go by myself!”
“Okay.”
Maintaining his mischievous child act until the end, Suhyeon headed toward the restroom inside the convenience store.
Exaggerating his lisp strained his facial muscles.
Pretending to be six years old is harder than acting itself.
Suhyeon sighed briefly and stared into the mirror.
Having learned to act cute during his idol days was a saving grace.
Otherwise, he would have sweated bullets trying to smooth over the awkwardness.
The saying that learning anything would come in handy someday wasn’t for nothing.
“Our actor really is a sly fox.”
“You scared me. Make some noise next time you come.”
Surprised by the sudden voice, Suhyeon opened his eyes wide and glared at Sangil, who was drinking coffee milk.
Though it looked nothing but cute and his demeanor was hardly formidable, Suhyeon showed his annoyance clearly.
“Weren’t you going to keep your distance?”
“I was still circling around, wondering if something happened.”
Even if Seohan was with Suhyeon, Sangil was Suhyeon’s manager.
It was Sangil’s job to look after Suhyeon, and he had no intention of neglecting his duties.
“You’ve become quite close in the meantime.”
“Does it seem so?”
“Yes. My condolences to Actor Seohan for falling for our baby-fox-like actor…”
Seeing Suhyeon brighten up, Sangil let out an exaggerated sigh.
It was an unmistakable teasing, and Suhyeon looked at his manager with a pout.
“Why add ‘baby’ if I’m a fox?”
“You’re cute, aren’t you? And you do have a bit of a toddling aspect.”
“Calling me toddling is too much, isn’t it? I’m not a baby.”
While not as sensitive as children his age, Suhyeon was sensitive about his age.
Having become as young as he could be, he especially disliked being seen as younger than his actual age.
