YDCFGD 17

I hurried to get ready from early morning, and at some point Aunt Junghee appeared beside me and struck up a conversation.

“Hey, where are you going? A date?”
“What? No!”
“Then?”
“A shoot….”
“A shoot?”

Come to think of it, Aunt probably didn’t know the whole story yet. Even if she was acquainted with Actress Sung Hyesim, it wasn’t like the two of them would sit around talking about me.

So I rattled off everything, starting from how I’d been cast as a child actress. Aunt listened carefully, like a manager taking notes.

“Your co-star is Do Jaehyun? I heard he’s got quite the temper.”
“Oh, really?”
“Does he act all high and mighty with you too?”
“I… don’t think so?”
“Hm.”

I was about to nod, then stopped.

If anyone could easily put Do Jaehyun in his place, it was Aunt. For the sake of saving a life, I’d better just endure it quietly.

She crossed her arms and watched me bustling around. After a long silence, she finally spoke in a crisp, decisive voice.

“I’ll drive you. Come down when you’re ready.”
“You’ll drive me?”
“Who else would I put in my car?”

She shot back brusquely.

Under her piercing gaze, I scrapped my original plan of taking public transportation.

‘I’m grateful, but….’

Still, shouldn’t someone at her level be busy?

“You just thought your aunt has nothing to do, didn’t you!”
“—Eek!”
“I have plenty to do. Plenty. So don’t worry about that, okay?”

Does she read minds or something?!

Even though I frantically shook my head, she narrowed her eyes as if she already knew everything. Only after I clasped my hands together in apology did the corners of her lips lift slightly.

“If you’ve got time for this, go finish packing.”

There was an awkward gentleness in the hand that lightly pushed my back.

In the car on the way to the filming set—

“Thank you for driving me.”
“It’s nothing.”

After thanking her, I checked the schedule for the first shoot again, which I had memorized by heart.

Since Episode 1 was largely driven by the child actors, filming would be divided into several parts. Even if I arrived on time, I’d still have to wait an hour or two before my turn.

“Um, Aunt….”
“What now?”
“You’re heading back right after dropping me off, right?”
“What?”

She snapped back sharply, as if I’d just said something ridiculous.

Didn’t she just say she had tons of things to do…?

“I came because I want to see you act. Waiting is nothing.”

I’d assumed she’d go to work or wherever once she dropped me off, but she casually declared she’d stay with me.

“I’ll just say I’m your manager.”
“Oh, a manager….”
“What? Is that a problem?”
“N-No, not at all….”

How many rookie actors have managers decked out head-to-toe in luxury brands?

But Aunt already looked excited about going to the set. There was no way I could stop her even if I tried.

Sighing quietly so she wouldn’t hear, I turned my focus back to the script.

I’d read and memorized it countless times, but since it was my first shoot, I wanted to show a perfect performance—for the people who believed in someone like me, who was still nothing.

Byun Seojun, who played Yeon Doyeon’s older brother Yeon Dohun, dreaded today’s shoot.

It wasn’t because of the production team. Writer Choi Gijeong wouldn’t be on set, and Director Woo Byeonghwa—who he had worked with before—had strongly pushed for his casting. He had solid backing.

Moreover, Yeon Dohun only appeared in Episode 1 and a few flashback scenes as a special appearance. With such a short part, he had thought filming wouldn’t be difficult.

At least, that’s what he’d believed until recently.

Having debuted as a second-generation idol and only recently switched to acting, he lacked what people called “experience.”

With his tall height, perfect proportions, and textbook handsome face, he had the ideal “actor look.” That was the only reason he’d started acting—and even that wasn’t his choice, but his agency’s suggestion.

Since he’d started anyway, he wanted to do well and had been taking acting lessons. But he was still more confident on stage than in front of a camera.

‘It’s not like my acting is amazing or anything….’

To be honest, he had assumed a special appearance wouldn’t demand much acting skill. He thought he could take it easy.

After all, the public didn’t expect genius-level acting from him—they expected a pretty face.

At least, that’s what he’d thought before doing the script reading with Joo Saeyi, who played his younger sister.

‘How embarrassing….’

Whenever he closed his eyes, he remembered stumbling over his lines in the reading room, completely captivated by Saeyi’s performance. Not missing lines had been his one strong point.

If she could radiate that kind of presence in a mere reading room, she would be even more overwhelming on set.

If he delivered his lines half-heartedly as planned, he’d get swallowed up again like last time. The thought left his mind in turmoil. It was pathetic—getting a headache over a mere rookie.

After being crushed by her momentum once, he’d kept rereading the script.

But the more he read, the harder it became. Yeon Dohun wasn’t as light and shallow a character as he had first assumed.

He’d briefly considered backing out of the casting, but part of him wanted to face the challenge head-on. It wouldn’t be right to Director Woo, who had pushed so strongly for him despite Writer Choi’s reservations.

In the end, he arrived on set without any real improvement. The wait for his turn felt like an eternity under the weight of pressure.

Meanwhile, Joo Saeyi looked remarkably relaxed despite it being her very first shoot. Perhaps because she had the skill to back it up, she didn’t seem nervous at all, calmly getting her setup done.

Seojun deliberately avoided looking at her. Seeing Saeyi fully transformed into Yeon Doyeon only made him feel more pathetic.

But time passed, and eventually it was their turn to film the scene between Yeon Doyeon and Yeon Dohun.

Their first scene together was one where the gentle older brother comforts Doyeon, who feels hurt by their mother. It would later be inserted as a flashback after Dohun’s death, when Doyeon keenly feels his absence.

“Seojun, relax! Your expression is way too scary! You’re not a gentle older brother!”
“Ah, yes!”
“Hmm, Saeyi looks great on camera. She’s completely Doyeon!”

Even the staff checking back and forth between him and Saeyi irritated him.

Forcing his turbulent emotions down, Seojun glanced at Saeyi, who had finished her setup.

Unlike him, whose eyes wandered restlessly, her face didn’t so much as twitch.

‘Looks like she doesn’t even care about me. Does she think I’m beneath her or something?’

To calm his nerves, Seojun chose the easiest path.

‘This feels awful….’

He decided to turn her into an enemy in his mind—anything to protect his pride.

The moment his dark brown eyes flared, the sharp clap of the slate echoed across the set.

“…Hoo.”

Saeyi took a deep breath. As Seojun looked at her, now standing in position according to the script, he instantly realized his choice had been wrong.

“Ah, I told you to get out of my room!”

In an instant, Saeyi became Yeon Doyeon, shouting with powerful projection. Sitting on the edge of the bed, backpack slung over her shoulders, she stomped her feet.

“I said I don’t even want to see your face, Oppa…!”

Though she spat harsh words at him, she couldn’t bring herself to actually push him out of her room.

A teenage girl who was grateful for her brother’s concern, yet pouted because she never received the same attention from her mother.

“…Still, you have to eat. That’s how you’ll grow taller.”
“Stop caring! Mom’s doing just fine ignoring me, so why are you the only one like this?”
“Doyeon, that’s….”

Because I’m worried about you.

That was the next line according to the script.

But once again, Seojun hesitated, lips parting without sound—just like during the script reading.

This time, though, it wasn’t simply because he was overwhelmed.

‘It’s just… I’m so damn embarrassed.’

Yeon Dohun should cherish and love his sister. But he couldn’t do it properly.

Even though he knew that was Dohun’s character, he had almost turned against a talented rookie out of petty jealousy.

He wanted to act well, but he still hadn’t found a way to grow. To Seojun, Saeyi was a minefield.

The moment he saw her performance, he realized anew that Dohun saw his sister as his most precious, fragile weakness. Saeyi embodied Doyeon with her entire being.

Suddenly aware of the gap between them, Seojun found himself unable to speak at all.

“Cut, cut!”

When Seojun only stared blankly at Saeyi without continuing his lines, the director finally shook his head and called it.

“Seojun, you’re really off today. Let’s take three and try again.”
“…I’m sorry.”

Thinking he couldn’t go on like this, Seojun lightly slapped his own cheek. If he didn’t want to be devoured by the tiger named Joo Saeyi standing before him, he needed to get a grip—fast.