I Will Live As An Actor - Chapter 59

Leisure.

Director Shin Seonghyeon was enjoying a rare break. Back when he was shooting his previous work, such a thing couldn’t even enter his mind. Like a horse relentlessly whipping itself into a run, he wouldn’t take a single day off once filming began.

Even on days without shooting, his schedule was packed tight with meetings from investors to distributors, and sponsorship companies.

Yet a few days ago…

“Director, Deol has agreed to sponsor our costumes. And just now, I got a call from the head of Haeje Department asking if they could place their products as PPL in our film.”

“Seokcheol, how many does that make now?”

“It must be well over ten since we started filming. We’ve had so many sponsorships and PPL inquiries that I stopped counting. In my ten years as an assistant director, this is the first time luxury brands and conglomerates have directly approached us for sponsorship.”

“Huh.”

What was commonly referred to as sponsorship or PPL was the act of placing products within visual media to subconsciously advertise to the audience beyond the screen. Usually,wasnsorships and PPL were rare in films.

That’s because, unlike dramas where immediate reactions can be gauged, the success or failure of a film could only be predicted after it was released. If a company spent advertising money on PPL and the film happened to flop, the responsible person’s fate won’t end with just a written apology.

“Keep all of them on hold for now and tell them we’ll consider it generously.”

“Even Deol?”

“Yes, after all, we will need a few luxury items for the scene where the villain is consumed by material desires. By the way, you did remind the reporters about the embargo, right?”

“Would I miss that? After you mentioned it, I met them again just to be sure. It does seem to be going as we expected, doesn’t it?”

Director Shin Seonghyeon gave a triumphant smile. At the time of filming, a few reporters had visited the set. They didn’t spread any details about the film or its atmosphere to the public, but it might have been different in private settings.

After all, how much influence could a mere film director to impose an embargo? Knowing this, Director Shin Suhyeon also added a word in private settings, asking them for their discretion. That the inquiry calls were pouring in like this was proof of its effectiveness.

“Director, what are you planning to do on this holiday? You’re not coming to the office again, are you?”

“Man, do you think I’m some kind of machine?”

“I’ve been with you as an AD for years, and I’ve never seen you take a break. Come on, let’s go fishing instead. I heard the new fishing spot at Sandeok Mountain is fantastic.”

“Forget it. Do you think I want to spend my precious holiday holding hands with you while fishing?”

“Wow? That’s harsh, coming from a fellow old bachelor. At least I have a girlfriend.”

“Man, nobody knows what will happen until you’re in the wedding hall. I thought by this age I’d be married and watching my kids grow up. Seeing your face every day on set is enough, I don’t want to see it on my day off too. This holiday, don’t stick around me. Treat your girlfriend well, or you’ll end up like me.”

Again, leisure time.

There really is no greater blessing.

Director Shin Seonghyeon walked through the art exhibition hall as he recalled the face of Jang Yeongguk. Thanks to his audition video, he was able to successfully recruit Music Director Choi Yul. He still couldn’t forget the acting of Jang Yeongguk that he witnessed on the filming set. The reporters also sensed it from that very first scene.

That this film, despite its R-rating, would be a hit. That’s why sponsorships and inquiries kept pouring in endlessly.

“Hmm, this has a certain feel.”

He was stroking his chin while looking at the artwork on display when—

“’Dusk, The Time of Dogs and Wolves’ is a French saying that inspired this painting. It’s the time when the sun sets and twilight fills the air when I see a figure walking over that hill, and I wonder if it’s the dog I know or a wolf coming to harm me.”

Gasp.

She was breathtakingly beautiful. The low voice, long hair, the silk scarf wrapped around her white neck—Director Shin Seonghyeon, usually the epitome of coolness on set, was momentarily flustered like a mouse in front of a cat.

“It’s rare for visitors to come at this time, and I was surprised to see you by yourself. The painting you were just looking at is one I created. I’m the painter, Lee Seoyeon. I hope my brief explanation didn’t bother you, similar to what a curator might offer?”

“No, not at all! I’m a movie director. Uh…?”

At that moment, as Director Shin Seonghyeon was reaching out to shake hands, his eyes widened like lanterns.

***

Yeon Su.

After handing out pamphlets for the entrance briefing in the auditorium, I saw Yeon Su leaning against the window in the hallway. Was this what they meant when they said kids grow up so fast? The little kid from three years ago was nowhere to be seen.

Look at her, what on earth had she been eating? Not only had she shot up in height, but as her baby fat started to fade, her features became even more distinct. Maybe it’s the way her hair fluttered in the breeze, but her gaze out the window seemed so distant. Standing there, didn’t she look like a scene from a photo shoot? Well, of course, she would later be recognized as one of South Korea’s epitomes of pure and fragile beauty.

“What are you doing not going into the auditorium?”

Yeon Su turned around, her hair swaying. The distant look on her face quickly turned into the mischievous grin of the little kid I met three years ago.

“You’re just going to go inside after we meet for the first time in so long?”

“Your mother is waiting.”

“I told her already, so stop it and give me a tour of the school! I even just tied your shoelaces for you. You can at least do this for a junior, right?”

“You’re really thinking about attending our school?”

Yeon Su flashed a thin smile. Oh boy, I could already foresee the rough school life ahead. Just like during the drama shoot three years ago, Yeon Su stuck close to my side. We had some time until lunch. The entrance briefing was going on all morning, but the teachers were the only ones who were busy; there wasn’t much for the students to do.

“Oppa, walking around the school with you reminds me of the drama we shot before. I asked you to show me around the school back then. Do you remember what your line was?”

I remember, but I didn’t say it. After all, it was a line that was rather embarrassing. Yeon Su then added with a playful expression.

“Never seen someone filling up water before? Don’t stand around looking so dumb, get it done quickly. If some old fart says anything, just say I was drinking water and accidentally spilled it!”

“Are you mocking me right now?”

“How is it? It’s exactly the same, right? See, I still remember what I heard when I was young!”

“You’re still young, anyone would think you’re talking about something from ten years ago. If you’re done with the school tour, let’s go listen to the entrance briefing. If your grades aren’t good, you can’t get into our school.”

“I’m going to get in!”

“Don’t drink the kimchi soup before it’s time.”

“Who’s drinking kimchi soup? I studied quite a bit, you know! And show me the rooftop. I’m curious what it feels like to look down at the school from there. Hehe.”

She’s grown, but she’s still pretty much the same as she was three years ago. Bold, lively, and bright. It’s true that just looking at her lifted my spirits. Eventually, I couldn’t resist Yeon Su’s urging and made my way to the rooftop. Since I came here often, I knew exactly where the rooftop key was. But seriously, even here she’s doing a photo shoot.

On the rooftop with the autumn wind blowing, Yeon Su closed her eyes tightly and stretched out her arms. Her long hair fluttered again in the breeze. Seemingly intoxicated by the autumn air, Yeon Su opened her eyes and asked,

“Oppa, have you seen the historical drama I’m currently filming?”

“Y-yeah, of course.”

“What role do I play?”

To be honest, I just learned that she was shooting a historical drama. So, of course, saying I’ve seen it was a lie. It just slipped out because she asked so suddenly. Maybe I’ve been too busy shooting movies.

At that moment, Yeon Su turned her head away with a pouty look.

“I knew it, you lied! So, you have to do whatever I say now!”

“I’m sorry about that. But what are you planning to say that sounds so scary?”

“Let’s go out of school together during lunchtime!”

Deviation.

How did it come to this?

It’s not like I’ve never left school during lunchtime. In my past life, I used to skip out all the time. Because I felt sorry for Yeon Su and she kept pestering me, I eventually got permission from her mother and the teacher to go outside.

“An art exhibition?”

“My aunt is holding an exhibition this time. She’s a painter.”

The art exhibition hall wasn’t far from the school. Normally, it’s a place I wouldn’t have visited, but I ended up following because Yeon Su dragged me along. Speaking of which.

It’s nice that it’s empty.

Whether it’s because the artist wasn’t that famous or because it’s a weekday lunchtime, the exhibition hall was almost deserted. Of course, if there had been a lot of people, Yeon Su wouldn’t have even thought about coming here. Being a celebrity, she couldn’t escape the public’s eye.

Twilight.

As I admired various works of art, one piece caught my eye. Its watercolor hues, reminiscent of the dusky dawn, were truly mesmerizing. It seemed I wasn’t the only one captivated by this; a man and woman stood together in front of the painting. That’s when Yeon Su recognized the woman standing in front of the artwork.

“Auntie!”

As the woman who seemed to be Yeon Su’s aunt turned around, the man next to her also turned his head. The surprise was twofold, as he was a familiar figure—not to mention his usually sharp and piercing eyes behind rimless glasses now looked as gentle as those of a submissive puppy.

It appeared as though the two were about to shake hands moments ago, as the man’s hand awkwardly hovered in the air.

At that sight,

“Director Shin?”

Director Shin Seonghyeon started hiccupping as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

* * *

The filming site was bustling. Outdoor shoots, especially at dawn, came with their own set of challenges. The director of photography was busy instructing the laying of tracks, while the lighting director was equally occupied, contemplating the primary light source to reflect on the subjects against the dim light of dawn.

In such moments, there’s no role for me to step into; after all, with my experience on sets from a past life, I was no expert like them. Instead, it was best to shine in my role as an actor and let them shine in theirs.

While I was sitting on a foldable hiking chair in a corner of the set, reading the script, someone quietly took a seat next to me.

“Yeongguk, that friend from before, right? I don’t usually pay attention to an actor’s private matters but…”

“No, that’s not it. I told you before. She’s just a close younger friend.”

“A close younger friend who’s an actress? Skipping school in uniform to come to an exhibition, you must be really close, huh?”

“What actress? She’s still a little kid. Besides, it was during lunchtime, so she got permission to leave school. From what I could see, it seemed like you, Director Shin, had a thing for Yeon Su’s aunt. Your gaze toward her was far from ordinary. For someone who always had such a sharp look on set, your eyes back then were practically drawing hearts.”

“Really? Did I do that?”

“Seeing how concerned you are, it must be true, huh?”

Director Shin Seonghyeon coughed awkwardly.

“Should I talk to Yeon Su for you, maybe set you up?”

“What bridge to set up…?”

“I’m not talking about building a bridge like Gyeonwoo and Jiknyeo. AD Kim Seokcheol said it, didn’t he? That our director might end up old and alone because he’s always fixated on films. In my opinion, if you put even a tenth of the passion you have for films into romance, you’d score a goal in marriage in no time.”

“Do you think I’m some kind of sick man who can’t get married? And look at Senior Kim Hyeongseop, he’s living a cool life without getting married. Artists are meant to be lonely by nature.”

“Lonely? Senior Kim Hyeongseop comes over to my grandfather’s place to drink on his days off. I’m dying making hangover soup every morning.”

His awkward expression made me think I could push the conversation a bit further.

“Be honest, director, you’ve been to that art exhibition again since then, haven’t you?”

“Go there? How could I? I don’t even have her contact details. And she might have a boyfriend or be married. It takes two hands to clap.”

“Yeon Su said she’s single and doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“What?!”

Director Shin Seonghyeon exclaimed loudly, causing everyone on the set to look in surprise. He then cleared his throat again, waved his hands as if to say it’s nothing, and sat back down cautiously while giving me a warm look.

“Why? Should I really ask her for the contact for you?”

“No, wait—but she’s really single and has no boyfriend?”

“You’re so gullible. It’s true. Yeon Su asked her herself.”

“You little…all right, that’s enough. Just don’t spread rumors. Anyway, you’ve probably already got the storyboard from Seokcheol, so I’ll just give you a few pointers. The reeds are tougher than they look when we pass through the reed beds, so be careful, and don’t forget to direct your gaze towards the swaying reeds for camera focusing. I’m sure you’ll handle it well.”

“Is there any doubt! It’s your direction, after all.”

“I don’t know how I manage. You’re so eloquent. Just remember, the conversation we just had stays between us.”

“AD Kim, I wonder if we’ll be eating wedding noodles before our movie premieres next year!”

At my jest, Director Shin Seonghyeon turned his head in surprise, but there’s no one there. Kim Seokcheol was already far away, talking to the extras. Seeing this, Director Shin let out a sigh of relief as he stood up.

“Yeongguk, it’s not good to tease adults.”

As Director Shin Seonghyeon walked back to the set, despite his words, his lips were filled with an excited smile.

* * *

“Director Shin, will today’s shoot be okay?”

“Park-sunbae (Director of Photography), why the sudden worry? Is it because the track isn’t laying down properly, or is it the composition that’s not coming out well?”

“The ground isn’t suitable for laying track, especially near the mudflats and reed beds—it’s soft. We’re supposed to start with a long shot and move up to knee, mid, waist, and bust shots, but with those reeds shooting up like bamboo, I’m not sure we can get the right composition. It’s dawn and naturally dark; look at how hard Sunwoo the lighting director is working over there. It would’ve been better to shoot during daylight, as originally scripted.”

“I intended to shoot it that way at first, too, but what can I do when inspiration suddenly strikes? Don’t worry, if we can just get this scene right, it’ll be worth it. Plus, it’s meant to be used in a flashback, so make sure you capture the subject’s lip movements accurately. If we don’t get the shots right, we might be stuck in this reed bed until tonight.”

“Just like last time, you’re tormenting me for three days to shoot a five-minute scene. I told you before: I’m going to lie down and refuse to get up this time.”

“Hyung, why are you like this again? It’s not like I do this on purpose. Please bear with it a little longer; I’ll treat you to a great meal after today’s shoot.”

“Aish, that damn artist’s temperament. I can already imagine how many times we’ll have to reshoot. I can already imagine!”

While Director Shin Seonghyeon and the Director of Photography was bickering, the Lighting Director gave a big thumbs-up—a sign that they’re ready to start.

Movies didn’t always follow the script in order. Sometimes, scenes that were meant to be shot later were filmed first if the circumstances and timing were right. The present situation, inspired by Director Shin Seonghyeon’s sudden insight, was just like that.

Though the lead actor, Jang Yeongguk, hadn’t committed the murder yet, they were already pre-shooting his aftermath. Finding a golden reed bed like this was impossible unless it’s the right season.

“Scene number 39, a shadow emerging from the twilight—!”

The golden reeds, meeting the dim dawn, rippled like the black waves of the night sea. The reeds danced in the morning breeze, and through them walked a man (Yeongguk).

“Libidine.”

Lust.

Latin slipped from his lips. It’s one of the seven deadly sins. As a parish priest, he often met a variety of people during confession, including those who had sinned with lust.

Addicted to drugs, he had committed countless crimes. Even after serving time, the law in this country only showed leniency. Even harming himself and leading others to ruin, he openly confessed his past.

– “Father, when you’re hooked on meth, it doesn’t matter if you’re a woman or a man; you can’t help yourself. There’s a reason they call it the devil’s drug. I’ve sinned a lot because of it. But it’s not my fault, right? It’s all because of the drug. You said prayer could forgive sins, right? So, I should be forgiven too?”

Amidst the undulating black waves, the Yeongguk gradually reveald himself, moving through the dancing reed bed. As his dark figure emerged, the white of his Roman collar shone distinctly against his black attire.

The man walking alone has no emotion in his eyes. Only the old rosary in his hand quivered reflexively.

Gulp.

Director Shin Seonghyeon was certain, watching Yeongguk walk through the dense reed bed, that his inspiration was not misguided. As a faint dawn briefly illuminated the reed bed, the mist cleared like fog lifting, and the man’s colors became vividly apparent.

Between the reeds, over the dark figure, red marks appeared as if drops of paint were sprinkled. The old rosary took on a crimson hue, circling in his hand as if in prayer. The camera tilted up gradually, going up on the Roman collar, and eventually stopping at the man’s smiling lips.

His gaze was clearly beyond the reed bed. One wonders what his hidden eyes in the shadow looked like. Finally, as if the camera was about to capture Yeongguk’s eyes, it switched to a long shot of the reed bed, rippling like black waves.

The reed bed continued to dance as if nothing had happened, bidding him farewell.

Watching this, Director Shin Seonghyeon thought.

Twilight.

Who was this man emerging from the fading dusk? Was he a priest performing God’s salvation, or was he a murderer?