This isn’t a coming-of-age story. Well, it is about growth, but the main genre is about finding one’s parents.
Suhyeon blinked his round eyes as he thought intensely.
The actor in front of him seemed so deeply immersed in their role that they might have taken it too far, but to avoid causing an NG, he had to smooth things over seamlessly.
She tried too hard and got greedy, huh? With that director’s temper, they’ll probably shout, “Cut!” and explode in anger… Will it be okay?
He hid his sympathy and looked at the woman playing the judge.
Her confident demeanor and seasoned smile made her seem truly authoritative in her field.
It was a bit regrettable that she seemed to forget the actual work while focusing on the completeness of her role.
“Being a disciple is nice, but… I want to be famous.”
“Famous?”
“Yes. If I become famous, I’ll be able to find my mom and dad.”
“…Oh.”
As Suhyeon conveyed Jiseok’s wish with a bright yet determined gaze, the woman playing the judge let out a small sound of surprise.
She seemed to have just realized that we were in the middle of filming.
The acting’s so realistic, but it looks like she hasn’t spent much time in front of a camera. Well, when I first debuted, I couldn’t even find where the camera was and fumbled around… Am I acting like quite the veteran now?
He stopped himself from shrugging his shoulders or letting his lips curl up inappropriately.
Even though he was four years into his career, Suhyeon was never treated as a sunbae due to his lack of popularity.
Still, he had his own dreams, and he was quite happy to be in a position to help someone as an industry sunbae.
“…You’ll be able to find them.”
The woman playing the judge, in a slightly hesitant voice, offered words of comfort.
Although it was awkward compared to when she gave her evaluations, considering she had just been abruptly presented with the protagonist’s tragic story, it wasn’t too bad.
“Thank you.”
With Suhyeon’s bright and dignified smile, the director’s cut was heard. Shortly after, Eulhong passed the scene without a retake.
Okay, now I can handle unexpected ad-libs just like that.
While the staff were busy preparing for the next scene, Suhyeon marveled at his rapidly improving acting skills.
Skilled actors would consider their co-actors’ reactions when ad-libbing, but surprisingly many just spout lines they thought would sound cool in the hope of becoming scene stealers.
Therefore, ad-libs were important not only for the person delivering them but also for the person receiving them.
If you could react quickly to unexpected lines, it wouldn’t count as an NG.
In that sense, I scored 100 points. Hmm, having such talent at six years old is impressive.
While he was half-jokingly and half-seriously painting himself in a golden light, the set became noisy.
When he looked up to see what was happening, the woman playing the judge was standing in front of Suhyeon.
“Hi?”
“…Hello.”
“Your name is Kang Suhyeon… right?”
“Yes.”
“Hi. I’m Kim Hyojeong.”
“Yes…”
“I teach violin at Korea University. You know Korea University, right?”
“Yes.”
Listening to Hyojeong’s introduction, Suhyeon realized why her acting felt so real.
It was only natural since they had someone who actually taught at a music college sitting in to judge.
I heard the director had a big fight with the music world, did they make up?
While Suhyeon was quickly assessing the situation with the appearance of a rather important figure, Hyojeong, who had been watching him with warm eyes, spoke again.
“Suhyeon, would you like to try playing the violin with me? I know we were filming earlier, but I meant it sincerely.”
“Yes…?”
“You have a very strong musical sense. Your ability to express it is amazing too.”
She didn’t hide her desire.
It wasn’t all that different from how Sohee, the music teacher, acted, which made Seohyun feel like he might start forming a bias.
“I told you, it’s not happening. Our actor loves acting way too much.”
“You were keeping such a good talent to yourself? You know you have a really bad personality, right?
“It wasn’t just a day or two that my personality was bad.”
“Oh, right, right. That’s why you fought with Changsik. Didn’t I tell you to tone it down?”
Suhyeon quietly observed Eulhong, who was smugly raising her nose, and Hyojeong, who was frowning at her.
Strangely enough, the bickering between the two made them seem close.
Are they really okay? Then why did it seem like they completely cut ties in the future? Was it just something hard to express on the surface? But if that’s the case, weren’t there a lot of music school connections at this shoot?
He was confused by the gap between the future he knew and the reality before him.
Even if group dynamics and individual relationships differ, if they were close enough to openly show camaraderie in front of others, there shouldn’t have been rumors of them falling out across the entire industry.
“Oh, right. Eulhong, the assistant… director, had a huge fight and stormed off.”
And that mystery was solved thanks to Kijin.
“Maybe it’s thanks to you that they reconciled.”
“Me? I didn’t do anything.”
“Well, indirectly, perhaps. Eulhong might have been poking at them, bragging about your talent. Something like, ‘How can someone in the music industry fail to recognize talent better than I can?’ or so she said.”
It was surprising that Eulhong had used his name, but the words weren’t particularly shocking.
Since she was someone who laughed and taunted actors on set, it was easy to imagine her doing the same to her mentor.
So this is the butterfly effect, huh.
Suhyeon recalled the pre-regression future he hadn’t been part of.
Considering that The Shadow Road hadn’t left a significant mark on her filmography at the time, it was likely a flop or got shelved for lack of a suitable child actor.
It was practically an indie film by Korean standards… If things had stayed unresolved and she moved to the U.S. like that, they’d probably have completely split.
Time can blur emotional rifts but can also lead to complete separation.
Knowing Eulhong’s personality, it was probably the latter in this case.
Just by being here without taking any action, I can change the future… Human affairs really are unpredictable.
Though he didn’t know how their relationship would proceed, it was clear that a second button had been fastened differently.
Suhyeon was satisfied with the changes he had brought about.
He felt good, as if he had done something right, even though reconnecting old ties brought him no benefit.
However, a few days later, the recording work began.
And the kind Suhyeon’s grace was repaid with enmity by the devilish Eulhong.
“Have you been practicing well?”
“Yes…”
“I even bought child-sized headphones just for you today.”
“…”
“Let’s review the footage and try it for just two hours first.”
The filming of the competition scene ended on an anticlimactic note, especially given the effort involved.
This was because he repeatedly played the same piece at the same location, and the emotional scenes of joyfully meeting and embracing his parents had already been filmed.
As a result, there was little left to focus on except playing the piece with a slightly furrowed brow.
Even when the notes were off or his fingers slipped on the strings, Suhyeon’s expressions alone ensured there were no NGs.
I should have just gone for the NG and done it without mistakes…
Looking at that day alone, it was a great result.
But when all those mistakes were included in today’s recording schedule, Suhyeon turned pale.
No, it’s not even an important piece! Couldn’t they just use a recording from a real professional? Why… why are they tormenting a child actor like this? Isn’t this a bit much, no matter how well I play? They’re just going to sync it up in editing anyway!
Eulhong was a true perfectionist when it came to her work.
She wanted the audience to hear Jiseok’s performance grow.
By playing the same piece continuously, she thought it would be easier for the audience to compare.
Thus, she demanded that Suhyeon master that single piece.
This is child abuse…
Suhyeon couldn’t hide his gloomy mood as he played the violin.
Even though he was only playing short phrases, he was rejected multiple times for not matching the required emotions.
Looking at his reddened left pinky, he slumped down.
“Suhyeon, are you okay? Do you think you can continue with the recording?”
“I’m okay, hyung…”
“There aren’t that many lines to re-record, so hang in there. Does your finger hurt a lot?”
“For the dialogue recordings, I don’t need to use my fingers… Sniff.”
“You must really be struggling. Don’t cry, stop. Do you want a candy?”
Suhyeon’s recording schedule wasn’t just about recording the musical piece.
Some lines needed to be re-recorded due to excessive background noise, and the director had scheduled the other actors’ sessions when Suhyeon’s fingers and shoulders would be tired.
The timing was so perfect that not even ten minutes after he took a break, the lead actors appeared.
Although his fingers and shoulders were numb, his throat wasn’t tired, so Suhyeon had to endure and follow through with the schedule.
“…Should I talk to the director? Splitting it might be okay.”
“With that person’s personality, she’ll check everything today, and if she’s not satisfied, she’ll add more recording next time, right? She is such a devil.”
“It seems like our actor is really having a hard time…”
“That was really mean. There’s no devil like this devil, so why did I do this?”
“You chose it yourself.”
“As my manager, hyung should have stopped me! What does a kid know!”
“…”
After the actors dispersed and seven hours had passed in the recording studio, Suhyeon’s words lost their coherence.
As if his brain functions were paralyzed by the repetitive performances, he behaved truly like a six-year-old, revealing his resentment toward the director.
“But you play really well. Just listening quietly, your talent really shows. The director must think it’s possible after seeing your skills.”
“I know I’m talented!”
“…”
“No matter how good-looking I am, how well I act, and how perfectly I perform! People shouldn’t do this!”
“…You shouldn’t drink when you grow up. Once you lose control, all your pretenses disappear… It’s kind of charming and cute when you’re young, but what are you going to do once you’re an adult?”
“Why be a perfectionist at weird things… I’m only six, isn’t it too much…”
“You’re drunk. Drunk.”
And after more than ten hours, Suhyeon, overcome with sorrow, began to reminisce about the tough times during his idol days.
Whether it was being crumpled up sleeping in the car while traveling from place to place in the provinces or being cooped up in the studio all day as a child, completely absorbed in recording, the feeling was the same.
But he never forgot to manage his image, so he smiled brightly in front of the staff as if things weren’t difficult, only when he was alone with Sangil in the break room did he kicked the sofa and buried his face in a cushion.
“Here, let’s down a cup of hot chocolate. That’s right.”
“I’m sick of chocolate. I want to go home… Hyung, this place is hell.”
“It’s almost over, so hang in there.”
“Yeah…”
Suhyeon replied in a weak voice, rubbing his face against the cushion.
The sugar helped clear his mind a bit.
This is really tough. My tone is weird, and my actions are kind of embarrassing…
He realized today that his behavior and emotional fluctuations were different from usual.
Initially, it scared him, but once he understood the reason, he no longer suppressed his unconscious actions and words.
Because I’m six. I didn’t think I’d realize I was six years old like this.
Under the pressure and stress from the director, the never-ending schedule, and the repetitive tasks requiring intense focus and endurance, his brain began to behave more in line with his physical age of six rather than his mental age of twenty-five.
It was an instinctive response to the overload, a phenomenon Suhyeon experienced for the first time.
Next time, even if it’s a hassle, I’ll have to cut the schedule in half. Trying to finish everything in one day, thinking like an adult, has made my body go on strike.
Suhyeon staggered to his feet and checked himself in the mirror.
Even amidst exhaustion, he was both proud and slightly annoyed by his strikingly beautiful appearance.
It would be nice if I looked a bit more exhausted to trigger some guilt in the director. But then again, it might be useless against someone without such guilt.
With a determined expression, he composed himself.
As Sangil said, it was almost finished, and he didn’t want to leave anything incomplete.
“It’s done!”
“Suhyeon, great job today!”
“Well done!”
Just as Suhyeon resolved, the final recording was completed in one go without any mistakes.
As soon as Suhyeon lowered his right arm, the staff, who had been holding their breath, erupted into applause to congratulate him.
It had been 10 hours and 14 minutes since he entered the recording studio, and it was the liberation he had dreamed of.
