Suhyeon, sitting in “Yeonwu’s” seat, immediately changed his expression, casting a shadow.
His face radiated such a dramatic atmosphere that even a stranger would ask, “Are you okay?”
“What’s up, why aren’t you going out?”
“Oh. Class President…”
“Don’t you have your gym clothes?”
“Nope.”
“Hmph. So unprepared. Here, wear this.”
At Suhyeon’s dejected appearance, Jiyoon placed the paper bag hanging next to her seat on his desk with a sassy look.
Since it wasn’t much different from her usual personality, her expression was completely natural.
It would be nice if things could just stay like this.
When he heard the PD’s okay sign, Suhyeon looked at Jiyoon.
He hoped his unease would just end as a mere hunch.
But the situation didn’t go as he wished.
“It’s okay? Why does your mom always glare at you!”
“Cut. Jiyoon, it’s not ‘glare,’ it’s ‘hit.’ Let’s do it again.”
“Ah, I’m sorry.”
It started with a small line mistake.
The continuous shooting schedule was exhausting even for adults, so everyone shrugged it off as a common mistake.
“Always…! Sorry.”
But when the mistake happened a second, third, and fifth time, Jiyoon’s face gradually turned pale.
This isn’t a good flow.
Suhyeon discreetly scanned his surroundings.
While he managed to keep his expression in check, the crew’s faces were showing signs of fatigue.
They suppressed their irritation because they were dealing with children, but at the same time, their expressions were poorly managed for the same reason.
Hmm, kids are surprisingly sensitive to things like this.
The gradually sinking atmosphere felt like thin ice.
Sensing this, the PD stood up and clapped several times.
“Okay, okay, it’s fine. Mistakes happen. Let’s go once more.”
With the PD’s encouragement, Jiyoon pulled herself together and steadied her resolve.
Her mom also cheered her on from outside the camera’s view.
“What’s this? Why is your arm like this?”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s okay? Why does your mom always hit you!”
“It’s not always…”
“…Oh, sorry.”
When things go wrong, they just keep going wrong.
Barely overcoming one hurdle, Jiyoon forgot her next line this time.
After making another mistake when given another chance, Jiyoon’s face flushed bright red.
“Ag-again…”
When she bowed her head, unable to say, “one more time,”
“It’s okay.”
A warm, small hand wrapped around Jiyoon’s.
It was Suhyeon’s hand, the one she had been acting with.
There are days like this.
Suhyeon understood her feelings.
While shooting, it wasn’t uncommon for the tongue to get twisted over trivial lines.
Though it’s never happened to me.
Knowing it mentally but making mistakes verbally, and those mistakes piling up two, three times…
Once the gazes around started feeling like criticism, it became increasingly difficult to break the vicious cycle.
In such cases, it’s best to apologize first and move on… but that’s hard for a supporting actor.
Of course, just because it’s hard doesn’t mean it’s impossible.
Furthermore, in Jiyoon’s case, there was nothing particularly disadvantageous about it.
With the time we’ve spent together, who’s going to say anything about it? She’s usually so shrewd but can’t take care of herself in times like this… or is it because of habits?
Suhyeon, who was patting Jiyoon, subtly turned his head.
He saw other child actors waiting for the next scene.
And those dressed similarly, standing a step behind them.
That’s rather scary.
When child actors were filming, there was usually a “spare actor” on standby.
This is because, compared to adult actors, there are more incidents—not just tardiness, but also losing teeth or becoming too distracted to continue shooting.
The spare actors would then take their place.
Matching hairstyles and outfits made it possible for them to look like the same person.
Who cares if they switched a child actor or not, as long as the face isn’t close-up?
Even significant roles often encountered this.
Unless the face was close-up for an extended period, the role was more important than the actor, and given the industry’s tendency to consider child actors as mere garnish, children were often switched.
This trend continued until the importance of child actors grew and child actor management agencies appeared.
So, it was only natural she’d be intimidated by the invisible spare actor.
“Director, my throat hurts. Can we take a short break?”
Suhyeon made an excuse on behalf of the speechless Jiyoon.
Though Jiyoon’s hands visibly twitched, he pretended not to notice.
“Did I push too hard? Alright, let’s go for a cigarette break!”
PD Bongchun, who had been filming Suhyeon for the past two months, surely knew when he would get tired.
But instead of pointing that out, Bongchun loudly announced a break.
Seeing the helpless Jiyoon, the PD’s darkening face brightened instantly.
“Jiyoon, are you okay?”
With the break, Jiyoon’s mom rushed through the moving staff.
She checked Jiyoon all over, unable to hide her worry.
Her demeanor was so serious that an outsider might think Jiyoon was severely injured.
“Oh, yes. I’m okay, mom.”
Jiyoon, fidgeting with her now-empty hand, watched Suhyeon walk away with his manager.
Why wouldn’t the voice that reassured her with “It’s okay” leave her ears?
He was just a kid younger than her, who could act a bit better, but it felt strange.
“I’m going to the bathroom for a bit.”
“Shall I go with you?”
“No, it’s okay.”
Jiyoon hurried away to escape from her mom.
Her legs had already started moving in the direction Suhyeon had disappeared.
* * *
Should I have just helped her right away? No, it would have looked weird if I helped her with her acting in front of all the adults.
Suhyeon swung his legs that couldn’t reach the ground as he flipped through the script.
He needed time to organize his thoughts without interruptions rather than actually checking the script.
It would have been better to break the flow a bit, but I can’t be sure if it would have fully refreshed her.
If the same mistake was repeated after the break, today’s filming would be in real danger.
Suhyeon, who dreamed of leaving work on time, didn’t want to just sit back and watch such a mishap.
It’s better to go over it privately.
Having decided what to do, Suhyeon closed the script and got off the chair.
The staff was scattered in and out of the classroom, but there were plenty of empty classrooms and secluded spots in the school.
It wouldn’t be too difficult to comfort her away from the adults’ eyes.
“Hey, Kang Suhyeon.”
Just as he was about to decide on a place and set out to find Jiyoon, she called out to him, appearing at the perfect moment.
Fortune seemed to be on his side as her overbearing mother was not around.
“Jiyoon-noona.”
“You just now—”
“Great! Noona, come with me for a moment.”
Suhyeon greeted her with a bright smile as the perfect opportunity approached.
Blinded by the dream of leaving work on time, he grabbed the script in one hand and Jiyoon’s hand in the other.
He was able to quickly find a place without any adults.
“Wh-what’s this…?”
Jiyoon’s face turned red as she hunched her shoulders at Suhyeon’s assertiveness.
She seemed angry for a moment, but instead of yelling or making a fuss, she quietly followed him.
“…What is this.”
In an empty spot, she let out a deflated voice as she looked at the script he handed her.
“I thought you were too nervous. I wanted to practice together before we start.”
“I can do well! I was just too, too… Anyway, that’s what it was!”
“Of course, I believe you can do well, noona. But…”
Suhyeon didn’t say, “I’m worried because you made too many mistakes.”
The truth can sometimes turn into a slap in the face.
He knew very well that emotional appeals were often more effective than logical arguments when persuading people.
With a delicate expression, he set the mood.
Looking down, his long eyelashes trembled slightly.
Without needing to explain, they would understand and even add their own reasons to believe it.
It was a method Suhyeon often used to enchant others after confirming his childhood beauty upon coming to this world.
A method verified by many adults worked flawlessly again this time.
“Can we just practice together?”
“…Hmph. What, were you embarrassed to practice in front of the adults? If that’s the case, I’ll help you out. I’m your noona, right?”
Jiyoon, taking Suhyeon’s delicate appearance positively, raised her nose in the air.
She seemed to feel she was in charge, and the shadow that had been over her during filming had long since disappeared.
It’s good to have confidence.
It’s better to perform exaggeratedly with overconfidence than to make mistakes buried in nervousness.
Suhyeon lightly brushed off Jiyoon’s bravado and started the lines immediately.
He wanted to finish the rehearsal before the adults found them.
“It’s just that my body isn’t feeling well.”
“What’s this? Why is your arm like this?”
Jiyoon continued the lines a beat late because of the sudden start.
Her confused tone made it sound like “Chaeun” was genuinely angry.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s okay? Why does your mom always hit you!”
“It’s not always…”
“Idiot! You should tell the police officer about this! Why are you being so dumb and putting up with it!”
Maybe it was because the unnecessary tension was gone, or because there were no cameras, but Jiyoon delivered “Chaeun’s” lines more naturally than during the shoot.
Her growing confidence created a livelier “Chaeun” mixed with childlike arrogance.
“Nu… Darn it.”
As her excitement began to rise, she got annoyed with herself when she stumbled over her words.
Seeing the same mistake she made during the shoot, Suhyeon’s eyes sparkled.
“Jiyoon-noona.”
“Who… Why aren’t you saying the next line when I’m helping you?”
“Noona, when you make a mistake, don’t rush. Just wait three seconds.”
“What?”
Instead of answering her question, Suhyeon slowly explained the trick.
Unbeknownst to herself, Jiyoon had a tendency to become more impatient the more mistakes she made.
Trying to act quickly to cover up an NG, it would be fortunate if she passed on the next try, but today’s case worsened the situation.
It’s better to correct habits now than later.
He advised the bewildered Jiyoon, who couldn’t follow the flow of conversation, to slowly read aloud the mistaken part three or four times.
It was an exercise meant for those who made mistakes out of haste to help their brain correctly input the proper lines.
“You…”
Jiyoon, who was following along absentmindedly, looked at Suhyeon with a complicated expression.
Her lips moved as if she had something to say but couldn’t bring herself to say it.
As the lines stopped, an awkward silence filled the classroom with just the two of them.
“Actors, please come out. They’re starting the shoot.”
Breaking the silence between them, Sangil appeared out of nowhere.
Without entering the classroom, he explained the situation on set and urged them to hurry.
“Noona, everyone’s waiting. Let’s go quickly.”
“You really are…”
Jiyoon glared at Suhyeon with an expression that was hard to read, whether she was about to cry or get angry.
Her eyes were filled with complicated emotions, but Suhyeon, immersed in his dream of leaving work on time, failed to notice.
