Wow… No, wait a minute, I really didn’t think about it—am I mistaken? Well, it’s possible that he has a cousin the same age… They say there are three people in the world who look exactly alike, right? Similar face and same birthday… Maybe not.
Suhyeon, momentarily confused, soon acknowledged the déjà vu he felt with Hyeondo.
He hadn’t connected the real name with the stage name, but he certainly knew who it was.
Jino…
Nam Hyeondo.
No, Jino, the leader of Black Star.
Although END and Black Star debuted in the same year, Jino stood out as a popular idol who started at the top—unlike his own group.
Given the difference in popularity, it was natural that there were no points of contact apart from the debut year, but the two groups were intertwined in many ways.
They took profile pictures at the same studio, and when they found out that Jino and Suhyeon had similar birthdays, a strange camaraderie formed among the members.
Yeah. Except for me.
The members bonded over Jino and Suhyeon, but the two were actually on bad terms.
Nothing matched between their personalities or backgrounds, and whenever they met, they would bicker and fight.
The term “like cats and dogs” fit their relationship perfectly.
To think that Jino was Hyeondo…
Unlike Suhyeon, who tried various things, Jino walked the straight path of a musician after his debut.
Even on variety shows, he acted like a musician and didn’t even glance at acting.
Because of that, Suhyeon never imagined Jino had a background as a child actor…
This is suddenly becoming really awkward.
Was this how Wonhyo felt after drinking the skull water?[1]
Just a moment ago, Suhyeon had been looking at Hyeondo like a young nephew, but now he couldn’t help but subtly step back.
It wasn’t that he suddenly disliked him, but the overlapping image of the future was uncomfortable.
“…Sorry. I think I just took my frustration out on you because things weren’t going my way.”
While Suhyeon was floundering, grappling with an unwanted truth, Hyeondo suddenly apologized.
He was embarrassed about being jealous of his dongsaeng, who was two years younger than him.
Normally, Suhyeon would have brushed it off with “Well, at least the kid has some decency,” but he awkwardly nodded with a stiff smile.
His actions were nothing but rigid due to his unresolved emotions.
Ah, this is really awkward. How did things end up like this…?
Suhyeon looked at Hyeondo, who was focused on the script, with a complex gaze.
The future connection he met after his return was unsettling rather than welcoming.
* * *
Fortunately for Suhyeon, the day he discovered Hyeondo’s true identity was the last day of filming at the orphanage setting.
Given Hyeondo’s role as an orphanage friend, his appearances after that were significantly reduced, with only one or two scenes involving the protagonist.
I know it’s not his fault… I know the kid is nice, but the future image keeps overlapping…
Suhyeon didn’t intend to drag future grudges and take them out on an eight-year-old.
On the contrary, he thought it was nice and human to see Hyeondo apologize and get embarrassed by his mistakes, unlike in the future.
It was just a physiological aversion blocking his view.
…Well, things might work out somehow as time goes by.
Since it was a problem that only got more complicated with no solution, Suhyeon decided to put thoughts about Hyeondo aside.
Even if it wasn’t Hyeondo, there were plenty of issues bothering him.
“We got the performance and filming permits for around 3 PM next Friday, so you can come then. Until then, take some rest. Aren’t I nice?”
Especially with the busking schedule set without any plan, he had to cut down on rest and acting practice to focus on the instrument to avoid being embarrassed.
I really hate this, genius or not…
Street filming was more burdensome than shooting in a studio or set.
Given the nature of the location, he had to deliver a “real” performance worth listening to.
Just looking pretty while playing the chords, as he did at the local filming site, wasn’t enough.
I didn’t even do live performances when I was an idol!
Moreover, the title of “genius” attached to his character, Jiseok, weighed heavily on his mind.
While the genius character was appealing to the audience, failing to maintain that illusion could disrupt the success of the movie.
He couldn’t afford to hear that the project flopped even before the release schedule was set.
I hate this so much!
Suhyeon shed tears of blood inside, striving for a performance that was a bit more elegant and a bit more delicate.
He vowed never to work with Director Kim Eulhong again, no matter how successful the movie turned out.
He practiced late into the night, engraving the “genius-level performance” into his body.
* * *
Great, there are fewer people than I thought.
Suhyeon arrived at the performance street on time.
Familiar staff were setting up cameras around the permitted area, while passersby glanced curiously at the dark-colored equipment as they walked by.
As expected, no one’s interested in kids. It’s both convenient and a bit disappointing…
Suhyeon, with his cap pulled down low, sitting on the edge of a flowerbed, observed those who paid no attention to him.
People who had been looking around due to the word “filming” showed disappointment and left when they couldn’t spot any famous actors they recognized.
They checked their surroundings based on adult actors and failed to notice Suhyeon, whose face was covered.
Or maybe my popularity has dropped in the meantime.
Once you’re somewhat known, appearing once or twice a year was enough, but as someone still close to a rookie, Suhyeon needed to keep showing his face to avoid being forgotten.
It was a decision made prioritizing career over recognition, but it wasn’t without regret.
…Anyway, a child actor’s career is more about building a resume.
While he was lost in thought, a staff member approached him.
Perhaps due to the increasingly hot weather, she kept fanning herself with her hand.
“Whew… Suhyeon, the camera setup is done. Aren’t you hot?”
“I’m okay.”
“Glad at least you’re doing well. Hmm, your hair is slightly flattened from wearing the cap for so long. Should we blow-dry it a bit? But it’s like an oven in there…”
The staff member, who had taken off Suhyeon’s cap, thought for a moment and then used her own comb to brush his hair upwards.
Thanks to its good texture, a few strokes were enough to restore the fluffiness of Suhyeon’s hair.
“Really, your hair is great, your skin is like a peeled egg, and your personality is cute… Your mom must be so proud to raise you.”
After admiring him for a brief moment, she then explained today’s filming to him.
The director and production team were monitoring the situation inside the van due to space constraints, and with the cameras fully set up, all scenes were to be filmed in one go.
Suhyeon just had to act according to the placard held by the staff.
“If there are no NGs and the performance goes without a hitch, we can wrap up filming in ten minutes and head home… but if there’s a problem, we’ll bolt right away.”
“Bolt?”
“Yeah, yeah. If people recognize your face, they might crowd around… Even though the staff hyungs will try to manage the line, if it becomes unmanageable, it’ll be safer to do a studio shoot. So keep that in mind.”
The staff member, who had been explaining for a while, soon realized the explanation was meant for the manager next to Suhyeon and turned their head to convey a similar message.
It was a precautionary measure in case of any emergency.
Will people gather? It’s pretty quiet since it’s such an awkward time…
It was a weekday, and the awkward timing meant there weren’t many people around.
People who glanced at the equipment quickly hurried back to their own lives.
“But aren’t we recording today’s performance?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. It’s too noisy here. They said all the performance recordings will be done in post-production.”
If they were going to redo the recording, it would be better to shoot the CG scenes in a quiet studio.
Despite being annoyed at the director for doubling the workload, Suhyeon smiled brightly and prepared for the shoot.
“You can start slowly from over there.”
Suhyeon moved to the starting point indicated by the staff. Screens that had somehow appeared were capturing him from various angles.
Wow… they set up a lot of cameras. Must have cost a pretty penny. This might be the most expensive scene in the movie…
Unless DSLRs became mainstream in the future, the current filming cameras were quite pricey even for rental.
The fact that nearly ten such cameras were set up meant the director was bearing a significant cost.
Is this scene worth the cost…?
Even as he questioned Eulhong’s choice, Suhyeon began to portray his character, Jiseok, filled with excitement and nerves.
He looked around at the procession of adults larger than himself, clutching his violin case like a lifeline.
Carefully, he claimed an empty corner spot.
“Phew… I can do this.”
He fumbled with the familiar instrument.
The tension he felt at the tip of his left hand eased his mind.
After briefly gazing at the adults, Suhyeon placed the tightly strung bow on the strings.
And he began the piece with a light pianissimo, like threading beads.
“He’s really young.”
“Looks like they’re filming something?”
As the child, barely half the height of an adult, started playing in front of the cameras, more curious passersby glanced over.
They didn’t stop walking, but each took a moment to notice Suhyeon.
“Wow, he’s young but plays well. Let’s stop and watch, oppa.”
“We were going to the café.”
“It’s just for a moment. I’m curious about what movie this is.”
And gradually, more people began to pause and listen to the performance.
“That kid is really cute. But he looks familiar?”
“Isn’t he the one from the Taesung’s cellphone commercial? The one in the animal pajamas.”
“Oh? Right. Wow, what are they filming? Let’s take a picture.”
“The resolution isn’t great though.”
“Seriously.”
Gradually, people began to recognize Suhyeon.
Just like money begets money, people attracted people.
Even those who had no interest in music or didn’t recognize Suhyeon approached out of curiosity when they saw the gathering crowd.
…Why are there so many people now?
As people formed a crowd, some of the cameras lost sight of Suhyeon.
He glanced around at the growing crowd when he noticed the missing screens.
Although there was a line on the ground maintaining distance, the dense spectators were enough to feel overwhelming.
Seems like I’m more popular now than when I was an idol. It’s bittersweet and a bit sad…
Of course, to Suhyeon, who loved affection and attention, it felt more like joy than pressure.
Forgetting his grumbles about the double workload, he focused on the performance.
“Wow!”
“Great job!”
“Encore! One more song.”
When Suhyeon finished his performance, some in the audience who were unaware it was a shoot clapped and cheered.
Those who had been quiet, thinking it was being recorded, were also drawn into clapping by the noisy ones.
Oh, I got the okay sign.
As he wondered if filming could continue in this atmosphere, the signal for approval was given.
The screens in front of Suhyeon began disappearing one by one.
Even the screens that had been clearly showing him vanished, indicating that the director had ended her shot.
But how do I get out of here…?
Suhyeon scanned the staff calming the crowd, those quickly packing up equipment to prevent damage, and the audience still gazing at him.
There was an adequate order without any rowdiness, but there was no sign of dispersal.
Hmm… It might take a while to retrieve the cameras secured up top… Alright, let’s just act like a six-year-old and go with the flow.
After debating whether to leave his spot, Suhyeon soon smiled brightly and looked at the people.
The unexpected event that arose when his popularity waned seemed quite useful.
“Hello!”
With that, Suhyeon started with a greeting.
[1] Wonhyo, a renowned Buddhist monk of the Silla Dynasty, drank water from a skull in the dark, thinking it was clean. When he realized the truth once it was daylight, he attained enlightenment, understanding that perception was shaped by the mind.
