Chapter 23: Actors’ Hotspot = Rookie Writer’s House (3)
‘This is definitely my house… so why have these people taken it over?!’
Woken by the noise, Kim Si-woo stumbled into the living room to find actors grilling meat. The sight made his head spin.
‘They said they wouldn’t come back… Why are they here again?! And where are Mom and Dad?’
“This is MY house, you jerks! Get out!’ he screamed internally.
***
Two days earlier
The script reading resumed in a tense atmosphere. All the actors were seated, and Director Park Woong-deok entered last.
“Judging by your faces, you’ve prepared this time. Let’s see,” he said, sitting down with a hint of approval.
The reading began, and, astonishingly, Park didn’t utter “Again!” once. But midway through, he paused them with a “Hold on.”
“Did we mess up?” an actor asked nervously.
“No, let’s take a break. All this focus is draining my sugar levels. Got any snacks?”
A staff member rushed to fetch some, and the actors exhaled in relief.
“Why’s everyone so tense? Not confident in your acting?” Park teased.
“N-No, that’s not it,” a rookie stammered.
“Tch, if you’d done this well the first time, we wouldn’t need a second reading,”
Park grumbled, but his faint smile betrayed his satisfaction.
A few “Again!”s came later, but they were minor, and Park left with a “See you next time.” The actors exchanged glances, their eyes saying it all: ‘We did it.’
They hugged, praising each other’s performances.
“Alright, since the reading went well, how about a wrap party?” Shim Ji-young suggested.
“Yes!”
The actors cheered, raising their hands.
“Great! Where to?”
“What about those with schedules?”
“Hmm… let’s vote on a date in the group chat,” Shim Ji-young said, posting a poll on her phone.
Two days later, the actors who could attend were at Kim Si-woo’s house.
“Why my house?! I said I wasn’t going!” Kim Si-woo protested.
The choice of his house was partly his fault. The actors, grateful for his help, insisted he join the party. Shim Ji-young called to convince him, but he refused. So, they concluded that to get the reclusive Kim Si-woo to participate, they’d hold the party at his place.
Shim Ji-young had persuaded his parents with luxury hotel vouchers, securing permission to use the house. Thus, the actors’ wrap party was set at Kim Si-woo’s home, not a restaurant.
“…”
“Everyone, go easy on the booze. Focus on food here, and if you want more drinks, we’ll hit a bar for round two,” Shim Ji-young instructed.
“Yes!” the actors replied in unison.
“Kim Si-woo, sit and eat. It’s top-grade Hanwoo beef,” she added.
The actors’ teamwork was impeccable. Rookies washed vegetables and brought grill plates, mid-level actors set out side dishes, and others grilled the meat. Watching their seamless coordination, Kim Si-woo was annoyed but couldn’t resist the premium beef. He sat and grabbed a piece.
***
A month after Revenger’s release, it surpassed 7 million viewers. With 15 days left, 10 million was within reach—an incredible feat. The lead actors, now household names, were busy with ad shoots and new projects. Kim Ji-hyun, in her debut film, landed a drama role immediately.
“The drama’s investor loved you. They specifically requested you. You’re our agency’s lucky charm,” her manager said.
For a small agency, a breakout star like Kim Ji-hyun was rare. But her agency head knew popularity was fleeting. To sustain it, she needed to keep working before her fame faded. A 10-million-viewer film’s heroine could propel their small agency to produce a true star.
‘I’d bow to that writer daily if I could.’
The agency head thought, grateful to Kim Si-woo for casting Kim Ji-hyun and tweaking the script to give her more screen time.
But Kim Ji-hyun, losing her humility, believed her success was solely her own talent.
During her drama shoot, her manager approached.
“Ji-hyun, the boss asked about a cameo offer.”
“Cameo? For what?”
“The new film, ‘Don’t Forget’.”
Her face darkened at the title.
‘Seriously? They rejected me for a role but want me for a cameo? Why should I? They’re doing fine without me, and I’ve got plenty of offers now.’
“I’ll pass. I need to focus on the drama,” she said coldly.
“Okay… I’ll let the boss know.”
Kim Ji-hyun’s manager said, relaying her refusal.
The agency head felt a headache coming on.
“Sigh… It’d be good for her to do it, but I can’t force her.”
Kim Ji-hyun’s contract had one and a half years left of its three-year term. She was their top star, and pushing her into something she didn’t want could jeopardize her next contract.
“It’s just a cameo. What’s the worst that could happen?” the head reasoned.
But soon, as feared, trouble arose.
On the premiere day of Kim Ji-hyun’s drama, articles and comments criticizing her acting flooded in.
“What the hell…”
Kim Ji-hyun muttered, stunned by the negative press and hate comments.
“What did I do wrong?!”
She’d given her all. Her condition was great, her acting solid, and the director and staff had praised her on set.
‘So why…’
She tried to deny it, but the public’s reaction was mercilessly cold. The issue lay in her role. In Revenger, her appearance, voice, and demeanor perfectly matched her character, Imprinting that image on audiences. But her drama role didn’t suit her, creating a jarring disconnect.
Some actors stick to Similar roles because breaking an established image is tough. Choosing roles that fit is a skill in itself. A few brave actors challenge themselves with vastly different roles, risking failure to expand their range. Success can elevate their versatility, but failure can lead to self-doubt, slumps, or fewer diverse casting offers—a significant risk.
For a rookie like Kim Ji-hyun, who’d only done one film, transforming her strong persona was nearly impossible without exceptional talent. She had to endure the backlash, having chosen the role herself.
Meanwhile, Shim Ji-young, scrolling through Kim Ji-hyun’s articles, sighed.
“It turned out like that, huh.”
“Hm?” a colleague asked.
“Nothing. Shooting’s soon, right? Gotta warm up my voice.”
She stood, preparing for the first day of Don’t Forget filming.
“Alright, Shim, let’s do this!” the director called.
“Yes!” she responded.
This was her most dedicated project yet. She’d been involved in every aspect—script, director, cast. Failure here could shake her confidence as an actor. This film was a make-or-break challenge.
“Shim, ready when you are,” Park Woong-deok said.
“Right away.”
“Lighting team! Sound team! Ready?”
- Yes, all set!
“Great! Scene 1, take 1.”
Clap!
The slate snapped, and filming began.
In a cozy family home, Han Ye-ri (Shim Ji-young) prepared breakfast and got ready for work.
“My girl! Mom’s heading to work. Breakfast’s ready, so eat up!”
“Mom…” Han Seul-gi (Kim Hee-jin) started.
“Hm?”
“Nothing… Have a good day.”
In an ordinary routine, Han Ye-ri, a single mother, left for work, unaware of her daughter’s distress.
“Cut! Nice, Shim. Kim, you too,” Park Woong-deok said.
The actors exchanged relieved smiles.
“Let’s keep it rolling. Next scene!”
Film shooting prioritized efficiency, often filming out of script order based on location to save time and money. Today, they were shooting all scenes in Han Ye-ri and Han Seul-gi’s house.
As everyone bustled about, one person sat idly.
“What’s going on… Director, why am I here?” Kim Si-woo asked, bewildered, from his seat next to Park Woong-deok.