Kim Eulhong’s piercing gaze was fixed on Changho.
She was still furious, making those around her tremble.
However, even someone like her, who always seemed to follow her whims, was not entirely unaware of her own arrogance.
“You really make a person feel like shit. Your knack for setting up an unwinnable game is just astounding.”
“…”
“Actor Lee Changho.”
“Yes.”
“There won’t be a next time. No matter how good the results are, no matter how grand your intentions, there won’t be a next time. So, if you want to pull something like this again, talk to me first. Got it?”
Suhyeon was silently taken aback by Eulhong’s words.
Even if the director was considered the boss after signing the contract, there was no way a rookie director could suppress a veteran actor who had spent ten years as a leading figure in Chungmuro.
Moreover, if the actor had already conceded, it was better to keep the future in mind and resolve things amicably.
But having such a dismissive attitude… unless she plans on living for just a day. I mean, we were indeed in cahoots with Lee Changho this time, but… well.
Human affairs are often less logical than one might expect.
Especially when money was involved, one needed to know when to let things slide, even if it’s unpleasant.
However, Eulhong had strong standards and a harsh way of speaking.
She was bound to make enemies.
“Let’s do that. Thank you.”
“I’m going for a smoke. Five-minute break.”
As Suhyeon was deep in thought, the conflict between the two came to an end.
The outcome was peaceful, but it was a nerve-wracking experience.
“Wow, what a fright. It’s been ages since I’ve met a director with such a nasty personality…”
Chunsik, who was standing nearby, seemed to share Suhyeon’s sentiment and let out a big sigh as soon as the director disappeared.
He seemed to regret his actions, which seemed to have been driven by anger towards Eulhong.
“Hyung, that was scary…”
Suhyeon looked at Changho with teary eyes.
Although he knew the results were good after checking the footage, it wasn’t good for his lifespan.
He never wanted to experience the feeling of being caught between whales again.
“Oh, it’s exhausting. But the director is more lenient than I thought. She’s got some flexibility.”
“…”
After the director left, Changho scratched his cheek and said a few words.
The small smile on his face spoke volumes about his feelings.
Although Suhyeon couldn’t empathize with those feelings at all, nonetheless, they seemed genuine.
This person is also a bit… a bit strange.
Suhyeon took a small step back from Changho.
He had clearly realized that just because someone had talent and good character didn’t mean they were normal.
It was better to keep unpredictable people at a distance.
“You did great too, Suhyeon. Your lines really hit home.”
“Thank you!”
But the distance he had created disappeared in a flash.
As soon as he heard the compliment, Suhyeon beamed and warmed up to Changho.
Suhyeon reassured himself that it was okay to be a little strange since Changho was a great senior who would continue to be successful.
Still, when it comes to risky pranks, I should only play them when I’m confident, without getting swept up by others…
He reflected on this small lesson, smiling brightly.
The life of a six-year-old was unexpectedly tough.
* * *
“So that’s what happened. It must have been quite entertaining.”
“Don’t joke around. It was really tough. If Changho-sunbae keeps showing up like that, there would be more fights, I’m sure.”
Suhyeon complained to Sangil, whom he hadn’t seen in two weeks, about the things he had been through.
He felt a bit annoyed seeing Sangil looking well-rested while he had struggled.
“In the end, the one who benefited the most was you, the actor. It turned out well, didn’t it?”
“…Is that how you see it?”
The scene where the protagonist got permission from the director was filmed beautifully.
The director’s love for the children, Lee Songhun’s desire to nurture the protagonist, and Jiseok’s deep longing and subtle sadness were all conveyed.
And the one who stood out the most among them was the protagonist.
The potential that was building up during the conversation between the director and Songhun reached its climax with the final line from Jiseok.
“Even though I wasn’t there, I think the director let that scene slide because Lee Changho wasn’t the biggest beneficiary of that incident.”
“Could be…”
Suhyeon thought about the “what if” that Sangil mentioned.
What if Changho had used other actors to bring his character to life?
It was hard to imagine, given how intense that day was, but it probably wouldn’t have been pleasant.
“I just hope the filming site is a bit more peaceful…”
“When the genre was dark, the set was bright. Now that the genre is bright, the set is dark.”
“…Is that a joke?”
They continued chatting about trivial matters.
Stories about what happened while Suhyeon was with Jiyeon instead of Sangil, Sangil’s experiences during his vacation, rumors about the staff, and stories related to the actors.
Suhyeon even shot some scenes in between, but their conversation never stopped.
“Aren’t you lonely with your mom gone?”
“…It’s only been six hours since we parted.”
Jiyeon had hurriedly left for Seoul this morning.
She had something urgent to handle there, and although she should have left last night, she couldn’t leave her young son alone, so she departed early in the morning.
Sangil had ended his indefinite vacation and returned because of her call last night.
“Aren’t you sad your vacation is over, hyung?”
“Not really. After a couple of days off, there was someone who started to annoy me.”
Sangil frowned and sighed softly.
The look of being troubled was somewhat familiar, though he couldn’t quite recall when he’d seen it before.
I don’t remember when exactly. But by “someone,” he must mean Chaemin-hyung, right?
Suhyeon thought of Chaemin for the first time in a while.
He was an actor who was laid-back with a swagger and found Suhyeon quite adorable.
During the filming of Praise, he used to send texts constantly, but recently there had been no contact.
But it’s a bit much for me to message him first… That hyung is overwhelming.
Though he didn’t dislike people who adored him just because they found him cute, talking to Chaemin for a long time was quite draining.
Despite always being helpful, he felt exhausted.
“Hang in there.”
“Even though it doesn’t sound sincere, I’ll try to hang in there.”
As Suhyeon exchanged words with Sangil, he looked around.
In the past two weeks, they had finished filming the important scenes set in the orphanage, leaving only a few transitional parts and scenes postponed due to actors’ schedules.
It was Suhyeon’s last day of filming at this location, and after a three-day break, he would then commute to the filming site in Seoul.
“Oh, it’s Hyeondo-hyung. I’ll go say hi to him.”
Suhyeon, who had been swinging his legs while reviewing today’s script, stood up when he saw a young child entering.
Hyeondo, who played the role of Jiseok’s orphanage friend Lee Donggil, was one of those commuting due to school schedules.
Due to school commitments, he was one of those who commuted.
Being the only child actor among the supporting roles, he naturally became close to Suhyeon during breaks.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Suhyeon. Where’s your mom?”
“She had something to do today, so she went to Seoul. Instead, my manager hyung came!”
“You already have a manager? As expected, popular kids are different… Oh dear, I’m sorry, Hyeondo, say hello to Suhyeon.”
“Hi.”
“Hi! Ajumma, can I go over there and practice with Hyeondo-hyung?”
“Sure, go ahead. Hyeondo, Suhyeon wants to go with you… You’re the hyung, so go on.”
“Let’s go.”
“Okay!”
Hyeondo’s mom, who had arrived with him, beamed at the mention that Suhyeon’s manager came instead of Jiyeon.
Suhyeon, used to such a reaction, simply smiled brightly and pretended not to notice.
He found it exhausting to deal with emotions mixed with jealousy and greed one by one.
“Is school fun?”
“It’s just okay.”
Suhyeon asked casually as he walked alongside Hyeondo.
He noticed that Hyeondo seemed unusually subdued today and considered letting it be, but since they were officially friends, he couldn’t just ignore it.
He might quit soon, but for now, he’s a child actor… and a boy.
The ratio of child actors under middle school age overwhelmingly favored girls.
This was due to demand and the fact that girls had higher physical and mental maturity, making them more suitable for the field.
Especially for those under ten, the ratio of boys, unless it was for commercials, was dismal.
It’s not that I feel a sense of kinship, but it’s nice to see him, like a nephew.
Given Suhyeon’s mental age of twenty-five, Hyeondo didn’t feel like a friend.
However, unlike Seora or Jiyoon, whose thought processes he couldn’t quite grasp, Hyeondo was easier to deal with than other child actors he had met so far.
Besides, he’s almost a rookie.
The Shadow Road was only the second project Hyeondo participated in.
Compared to other child actors he had met, Hyeondo was less polished, and Suhyeon felt a bit like a sunbae, helping him out.
“Do you want to go over the lines together?”
“…Sure.”
The character Lee Donggil, played by Hyeondo, was a friend a bit lacking in social cues.
A kind but somewhat clueless kid.
He followed Jiseok around but, at crucial moments, pointed out the essentials, allowing Jiseok to embark on adventures.
He was always by Jiseok’s side, even presenting a bouquet on behalf of the orphanage in the later part.
“I learned how to do this from the teacher!”
“Oh.”
“Ta-da! I can hold it with my neck too! Isn’t that amazing?”
“Is that amazing?”
“…I don’t know!”
Suhyeon burst into laughter, then cleared his throat softly and continued his lines in a haughty voice.
“Shall I play you a tune?”
“Go ahead.”
Taking a brief pause in the scene where he had to play a children’s song, Suhyeon soon burst out with a sparkling voice, asking how it was.
Then, he cautiously mentioned that he actually had another piece he really wanted to play, which was an original piece from The Shadow Road.
“You’ve been practicing really hard! It must be busy with school too.”
“Not really. Compared to you, my lines are shorter and not that many.”
Hyeondo replied to Suhyeon with a more relaxed face than when he had arrived, showing a bit of maturity befitting someone two years older.
“Shall we do the next scene then? It’ll be nice to finish early today.”
“Okay.”
Hyeondo nodded easily and turned the script’s page.
They only had three scenes to shoot together today, marking the last schedule at this location.
Energized by the thought of the upcoming break, Suhyeon put in his best effort.
* * *
“Hmm. Isn’t this scene a bit lacking?”
The two-hour shoot went quite smoothly.
What they showed in rehearsal was almost perfectly captured in the main shoot, and Eulhong called fewer NGs than usual.
With the director’s voice neither rising nor sarcastic, Hyeondo’s face brightened considerably.
Having worked under a director with poor manners, Hyeondo’s satisfaction threshold had lowered even at a young age.
But right now… it seems like he’s overly excited about this.
Suhyeon laughed with a bit of difficulty.
While it was hard to blame someone for being easily satisfied, being content with merely passing was not a good sign.
Especially since relaxation due to satisfaction was very unfavorable…
“I think it’s fine.”
“Hmm. But wouldn’t Donggil look prettier if he sparkled a bit more?”
At Suhyeon’s suggestion, Hyeondo made a disinterested face.
Suhyeon began to wonder if the annoyance Hyeondo had shown since the morning was directed at him.
There hadn’t been any issues when they parted last week, but it seemed a mental shift had occurred in the meantime.
Is he jealous? It could be because I’m a bit better. Jiyoon was like that too.
Suhyeon took his reaction calmly.
It was hard to be offended given the age gap, and he understood that being advised by someone two years younger might be upsetting.
“You must be good at acting, huh?”
So, even when hearing sharp words, he wasn’t annoyed or upset.
Huh? Huh, huh?
He was just surprised to recognize a past connection in the grumpy Hyeondo.
