“Everyone did a great job. Crank-in is next Monday, and the schedule will proceed as I sent earlier.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
As the director declared the end, everyone stood up and exchanged greetings.
Smiles bloomed on their faces as they left, reflecting the tough times they had endured.
“Hey, kid. Yeah, you. Stay for a moment.”
Suhyeon, who was getting ready to leave while half-listening to Hyeondo’s chattering, looked up at the sound of Eulhong calling him.
He saw her now-familiar, seemingly angry, indifferent expression.
Ah, right. She was supposed to check my performance today. I forgot since the reading ended so late.
It seemed only Suhyeon had forgotten as Sangil walked into the meeting room carrying an instrument case.
Judging by the lack of a bag, it seemed he wasn’t planning to leave yet.
“Hyeondo-hyung, I have something to do, so I can’t go with you. See you next time!”
“Goodbye.”
Suhyeon casually sent Hyeondo off as if he had never forgotten and approached the director.
Eulhong, who had been looking at him sideways, soon gestured for him and the manager to follow.
“This room has the best soundproofing. Go ahead and play.”
“Yes.”
Once everything was set, Suhyeon took out his violin.
He tightened the bow, tuned the familiar instrument with his small hands, and placed his chin on it.
Soon, the clear sound of the instrument resonated in the room.
The piece, resembling spring cherry blossoms, was neither too high nor too low in pitch, giving a fresh and gentle feel.
“The bowing is clearly tailored to the piece without a solid foundation, the G string is unstable… It’s not unusable, but it’s not as good as your acting. We’ll have to go to the recording studio for the performance part.”
Despite no praise, Suhyeon took it positively.
Considering everything he had gone through today, the fact that the harsh criticism was mild wasn’t too bad.
“I heard from your manager that you practiced changing the sound of the piece in your own way. It’s audacious to do that when you can’t even follow the sheet music properly, but kids tend to think they’re all geniuses. Since you said you prepared, let’s hear it.”
Eulhong, checking something on the sheet music he brought, twisted her lips and gestured at Suhyeon.
Expecting to be scolded for practicing in a pretentious way, Suhyeon widened his eyes at her.
Oh, she’s allowing this? What’s going on? She’s being unusually kind today?
Though unexpected, it wasn’t a bad thing.
He quickly lifted the instrument onto his shoulder before Eulhong could change her mind.
“Hmm.”
Suhyeon’s performance was similar yet vastly different from before.
The bow’s strength was firm, and the flow was fast.
The parts that were delicate and soft like petals now evoked the image of down feathers, and the atmosphere was closer to early summer than spring.
The slightly different melody from the original piece felt like it had a child’s unique impetuosity.
“Who did you work on this with?”
After the performance, Eulhong asked Suhyeon with a puzzled expression.
It wasn’t criticism; it was an inquisitive look.
“The violin teacher helped me.”
“Just that person? Really?”
“Really…”
Suhyeon swallowed nervously and looked at the director with an innocent and pitiful face.
It was a plea for her not to ask further, but it didn’t work on Eulhong.
“Hmm… actually, I also played it for my acting teacher.”
Unable to withstand her gaze, Suhyeon hesitantly confessed the truth.
Technically, it was a breach of contract since he was only supposed to share the piece with the teacher conducting the violin lessons.
But Suhyeon had his reasons.
“This isn’t my performance; it’s Jiseok’s. I wanted to play it to match Jiseok.”
Unless it’s for a competition, even the same sheet music will reveal the player’s personality.
Especially for a character who didn’t formally learn an instrument, their personality would be more evident in the piece.
Suhyeon didn’t overlook this and coordinated the opinions of both teachers to create a performance that felt like “Jiseok playing it.”
It was a kind of shortcut he devised since he couldn’t instantly elevate his performance to a professional level.
“Am I in trouble?”
“Who suggested this first? Did your acting teacher ask to hear it?”
“No… I just thought of it.”
Suhyeon answered obediently, observing the director’s furrowed brows.
Being a person obsessed with details, he thought she might appreciate such efforts, but the atmosphere wasn’t good.
Ah, am I going to be penalized? I thought there would be some understanding. But I have a confidentiality agreement, so if she says anything…
As he pondered intensely…
“Ha. Hahaha…”
Eulhong let out a low laugh.
“You’re really interesting. You wear your mask well and have a good sense.”
Instead of blaming Suhyeon, she scribbled something onto the sheet music.
Her hand moved faster than before, and the paper made a tearing sound as a subtle madness could be felt.
“Do you realize the main character you and I envision are slightly different?”
“Huh?”
“Listening to your music, I can tell. Your main character has more childish impulsiveness. But that’s okay too. It’s fun.”
Eulhong, giggling like a mad person, made Suhyeon subtly distance himself and looked at Sangil.
Seeing him standing near the door with an uneasy face made him feel betrayed.
“I’m busy now, so you can go.”
“Yes, thank you…”
Already engrossed in her own world, she waved them off dismissively.
Grateful for the sign, Suhyeon and Sangil hurriedly packed their instruments and went outside.
“Was she like that during auditions and script readings too?”
“Well, not many are as cute and sociable as me?”
“…You’re subtly implying you’re a genius.”
“Because Suhyeon is smart and indeed an acting genius!”
Trying to forget Eulhong’s shadow, they left the building, making idle chatter along the way.
They never looked back even once until they exited the building.
* * *
After finishing script reading, Suhyeon visited a café near Yeouido.
As they entered the antique-looking café, soft jazz welcomed him and Sangil.
“Seohan-hyung!”
“Oh, you’re here.”
Suhyeon spotted the person with the camera and ran over.
From the moment he entered, a small window had been watching him.
The atmosphere is more relaxed than I thought.
He recalled the call he received three days ago.
A single phone call from his admired senior and close hyung, Lee Seohan.
It was unexpected.
As he was currently on a break, Seohan had agreed to appear on a variety show.
The theme was “A Day in the Life of a Celebrity.”
As the name suggests, it was an observational show filming a celebrity’s daily life.
Unfortunately, Seohan wasn’t an actor with an exciting lifestyle.
His schedule was monotonous, consisting of work, practice, and rest, and even his hobbies were reading or watching movies, very static activities.
Worried about the content, the production team and Seohan’s agency brainstormed.
And they invited Suhyeon, who had shown amazing chemistry with him in Praise.
There’s no appearance fee, but it’s a good opportunity to eat out and get some TV time after a while.
As it was a guest appearance, he wouldn’t get paid, but such appearances often came with meals.
Even if they didn’t buy him food, Suhyeon was happy to appear on TV again after a while.
“Hello.”
When Suhyeon greeted the cameraman at the table, a staff member holding a microphone approached him.
The staff member, who was about to connect the mic through his clothes, was surprised to find that what she thought were jeans were actually elastic pants.
“Noona, I’ll stay still on the chair. The pants might come off…”
“Wait, I’ll get a mic belt. I think I brought one even though we don’t usually use it. Just a moment.”
Suhyeon took his eyes off the staff who quickly disappeared and looked at Seohan.
Having recently finished filming, Seohan had no ongoing projects.
Since the film was still in the editing phase and there was ample time before its release, his face was fresher than ever.
“You finished the read-through today, right? Did you do well?”
“Yes.”
“How have you been, hyung?”[1]
“Yeah. I finished one project and have been resting for a while.”
Seohan naturally handed over the menu while asking about recent events.
Their schedules clashed, so they only exchanged greetings via text.
As a result, they were out of touch with each other’s small news and had plenty to talk about.
“Drink this while you choose.”
“What is it?”
“Iced chocolate. You like chocolate, right?”
“Yes! I like it!”
Since the weather was getting warmer, he ordered iced chocolate instead of the usual hot cocoa Suhyeon drank.
The drink brought by the manager was cool and sweet.
“Order a lot. Hyung got paid.”
“Hmm. Suhyeon is really hungry. Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
Though he had lunch and snacks in between, his stomach was already empty.
Suhyeon didn’t refuse Seohan’s kindness and chose what he wanted to eat.
Starting with hearty honey bread, he chose muffins and croissants that seemed filling…
Ah, cakes look pretty on camera, so I should order some too.
And he ordered cakes as well.
Despite their small frame, children’s food intake could be surprisingly large.
Suhyeon, who endlessly exhausted his brain during the grueling schedule, consumed more than other kids.
“Can I take the leftovers home?”
“Sure, but why? Isn’t it better to order just enough and buy more later?”
“Mom says I shouldn’t eat too many snacks, so I take a bite of everything and bring them home…”
Jiyeon also played a part in his ordering a lot.
She believed sugar and flour were bad for kids and disliked substituting snacks for meals.
For Suhyeon, who relieved stress with sweets, it was like a bolt from the blue, so he indulged his desires this way.
“This is going to be on TV, is that okay?”
“It’s okay! Because… If I do something cute, cute things make everything forgivable.”
“Pfft. Oh, really?”
When Suhyeon whispered the secret, Seohan couldn’t hold back his laughter.
The sight of Suhyeon’s bright smile and Seohan’s affection warmed the hearts of those watching.
Even though they were just having a daily conversation, it brought smiles to the faces of viewers, and they clutched their hearts when Suhyeon clumsily used a fork.
It was a perfect healing zone.
Despite meeting after a long time, their combination was flawless and explosively charming.
“I found a book café nearby. Do you like manhwa?”
“Yes.”
“Shall we hang out there for a while and then have dinner?”
“Okay, yes!”
After finishing their desserts and drinks, the two wandered around the area and had dinner together.
Though they just spent a day enjoying themselves, the staff following them had smiles on their faces.
“I ate too much today…”
“Yeah, you did. Does your stomach hurt? Should I get you some medicine?”
“I don’t like medicine…”
Even before getting into the car after parting with Seohan, Suhyeon continued exuding the endless charm of a child actor.
He knew that the camera was still watching despite the announcement that the filming was over.
For someone who could see the camera’s view, there were no gaps.
“Are you okay? You ate a lot.”
“Ugh. I overate because it was delicious… When will today’s shoot be aired?”
“They said in three days, so you can check it soon.”
Only after the car started moving did Suhyeon relax and slump into the seat.
After an intense read-through in the morning and spending the whole day filming as the “child actor Kang Suhyeon,” it was too much for a six-year-old body.
But I think it’ll turn out well.
Despite the exhaustion, he smiled contentedly, patting his swollen belly.
Though his body was tired, he had a good feeling about it.
[1] The author might had made a mistake on the sequence of this exchange—unless, of course, Seohan was about to start a movie.
