RECTW 22

Chapter 22

The prop room was silent.

Ham Kyung-seok stared quietly at Seo Singa.

The guardians and staff had all stepped out, but the circumstances could hardly have been worse. The private conversation between a director and a child model—who could barely even be called an actress yet—was taking place in a shabby storage room.

I’ll make you a star.

The words sounded exactly like something a scam artist handing out business cards would say, leaving the child completely bewildered.

Thinking that her current expression was better than the one she wore when pretending to be mature, Ham Kyung-seok removed his green horn-rimmed glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“So you’re not pretending to cry anymore.”

“…Ah, well.”

“What?”

“Did you… notice?”

“Just because I’m shooting commercials doesn’t mean I’ve stopped being a film director. How many actors do you think I’ve seen crying in front of me?”

“…Too many to count, probably.”

“That’s right.”

After agreeing, Ham Kyung-seok thought for a moment before continuing.

“Still, it wasn’t bad. Your crying face is a little too melodramatic, so some people will like it and some won’t. But that kind of thing works well on television screens. Especially when you’re young.”

“Director, I’m not going to become a celebrity…”

“Who knows? We’ll see about that.”

The meaningful tone in his voice carried a helplessness that even he himself wasn’t aware of.

Life rarely goes the way people want it to.

Even his own fate had been that way. Ham Kyung-seok was an adult who understood that better than most.

“…”

Singa almost argued back, then stopped.

There was a hint of resignation on her face.

It wasn’t a child’s expression.

And that was exactly what Ham Kyung-seok liked about her.

After all, an actor needed a story. It had to naturally seep into their face and eyes without being spoken aloud.

“You asked me once, didn’t you? Whether your talent was really that extraordinary. Whether I saw something special in you.”

“Huh?”

“The day of the audition. Your mother asked the question, but in the end, it was something you wanted to know too.”

By now, Seo Singa had begun to realize something.

This director in the green glasses was not someone who could be easily fooled. Of all the people she had met since regressing, he was the most difficult to deal with.

“What did I say back then?”

“I saw it. Clearly.”

“I didn’t see exceptional acting talent or the potential to become the beauty of the century that day. You probably remember better than I do what you looked like.”

That audition had been a disaster.

The little girl, soaked from head to toe, looked pitiful and frightened. The other contestants treated her like some ridiculous clown.

It was arguably the worst audition the director had ever witnessed.

But…

Slowly examining Singa, Ham Kyung-seok spoke.

“But I saw star quality that day.”

The child had cried.

While glancing repeatedly toward Yoon Ire—as if she knew her somehow—she cried. Yet her eyes had been both innocent and cunning.

Ham Kyung-seok, sharp and perceptive by nature, immediately noticed that the child was calculating something even while she cried.

And yet the tears themselves had been sincere.

Pure.

It was deeply contradictory.

On the outside, she was an immature child.

On the inside, she seemed like a fully grown adult.

Though Ham Kyung-seok didn’t know it, someone who had become young again through the miracle of regression could never feel quite the same as an ordinary child.

“The talent of an actor is fairly well-defined. Excellent observation skills, emotional sensitivity and empathy, imagination, the flexibility to use one’s body like an instrument, and so on.”

“…”

“But those things aren’t the most important.”

What audiences wanted—and what directors wanted—was far simpler.

A face with a story.

And eyes that seemed to speak.

An actor should be able to speak through their eyes even without words. A star goes one step further—they know how to captivate people with a glance alone.

And if their eyes possess that power…

A director always has a certain viewfinder inside their own eyes.

Watching the subject through the camera lens, Ham Kyung-seok became convinced once more that his instincts had been correct.

Everything else was just background noise.

“Star quality isn’t something you polish or train.”

“…”

“It’s simply there. Inside you. It’s something you already possess.”

Something one is born with.

A weapon granted only to a chosen few.

It didn’t matter if she didn’t realize it yet.

Even if wielding that weapon was the actor’s responsibility, finding and discovering people like that was the director’s.

Looking at Singa, who was frozen and unable to speak, Ham Kyung-seok calmly informed her.

“Once the set is cleared, everyone except the minimum necessary staff will leave. A 16mm film camera will shoot you in a single take. I’ll be holding the camera myself.”

It’s fine to be afraid of people.

But—

“Don’t be afraid of the camera.”

Ham Kyung-seok knew.

He knew the child had been terrified throughout the entire shoot.

She could be cunning and foolish at times, but her true nature was shy, and she became nervous easily.

During preparation, the assistant director had reluctantly informed him that she was afraid of water.

There hadn’t been enough time to replace the model, so the adults pretended not to notice and waited until filming day to tell her.

Yet despite being afraid of water, the child had diligently learned swimming for weeks without missing a single day.

She spent entire days in the water without once complaining.

Watching the young actress struggle in the water, the director had no choice but to admit that he had been deeply moved.

Wasn’t this exactly the kind of actor worth discovering?

“Just remember one thing, Seo Singa.”

“Yes, Director.”

Singa looked up at him with trembling eyes.

A young face.

Eyes that seemed perpetually on the verge of tears.

The sight was unexpectedly adorable, and the normally stern director couldn’t help but smile—a rare sight.

“I’m going to send you all the way to the stars.”

♧

“Film is expensive, so we’ll only do three rehearsals focused on movement. After that, the actress and I will handle the rest ourselves.”

A German-made 16mm film camera weighed about eight kilograms.

But once underwater equipment was attached, the weight doubled or even tripled.

It became a massive hunk of metal.

Yet no one dared object to the director carrying that enormous machine on his shoulder.

A few weak voices of protest emerged.

But the moment the person who had been sitting quietly in the corner of the set—wrapped in a trench coat, sunglasses, and a mask—stepped forward, the entire set fell silent.

Standing in the middle of the chaos, I stared blankly and thought:

He’s insane…

I should’ve realized it when the staff kept whispering that Ham Kyung-seok was a weirdo!

He really was one.

What kind of person is he?

I’d been an ordinary office worker my entire life.

I lived within established boundaries.

My parents struggled under debt but still did their best to support my education, so all I could do was study.

I stayed late at school, took the college entrance exam, barely got into a decent university, barely graduated, and then barely managed to land a job at a small company.

If someone on a blind date asked, “What’s your hobby?” I’d answer, “Watching movies.”

If they asked, “What kind of movies do you like?” I’d answer, “La La Land.”

That was how average I was.

Dreams?

I liked imagining things, so I fantasized sometimes.

As a child, I wanted to be an astronaut.

Later, I wanted to become a teacher.

But eventually, all I wanted was to own a home.

I was ordinary.

Unremarkable.

There was nothing special about me.

So this was truly a first.

I’d never met someone who genuinely lived for art at such close range.

“Just remember one thing, Seo Singa. I’m going to send you all the way to the stars.”

Inside the cramped prop room.

A place where dust floated through the air instead of sunlight.

I felt suffocated.

Only after stumbling out and burying myself in my mother’s arms did I realize my heart was pounding like it might burst.

Not from excitement.

Not from joy.

From fear.

A completely absurd kind of fear.

A kind I’d never experienced before.

It’s ridiculous.

I only came here to shoot this commercial for seed money!

That’s right.

This was just the desperate struggle of someone obsessed with money, trying not to end up brain-dead again.

I know Seo Singa well.

I’m not the kind of person Ham Kyung-seok thinks I am.

“Singa. Are you ready?”

The crazy man with the green glasses approached and asked.

I’d heard rumors that he mistreated actors so badly that they all avoided him, causing his downfall.

Now I was certain those rumors were true.

Because this man was genuinely crazy.

Star quality?

Me?

A star?

“Singa.”

Ham Kyung-seok called my name again.

“…”

I looked up at the floating dice-window that had hovered above his head throughout our conversation in the prop room.

Then, like someone under a spell, I answered.

[Connection – Ham Kyung-seok, born 1969]

[Category: Culture & Arts (Film Director)]

[Potential: ★★★★☆]

“…Yes, Director. I’m ready.”

I’m not that kind of person.

But just once.

Just this one time—

I wanted to see if I could do it.