* * *
“Hey, pass one roll of that!”
“You packed the baby lens, right? Not the standard on that side.”
The truck opened, and carts loaded with black equipnt cases rolled out. Staff mbers hurried around, checking every detail of the shoot.
“Can I get the storyboard?”
Director Jang sat down and looked through the storyboard he was handed. As he focused on it, the clatter of heavy gear being set up slowly drifted away from his ears.
‘Is this going to work...’
Three rookie leads, a restricted location, and a barely-there budget.
Director Jang closed his eyes for a mont. He could already sense a slight creak in the production. And the intuition of soone who’s eaten “set als” for years rarely misses.
‘Box office predictions can be wrong sotis, but with acting...’
You could usually tell from the script reading. Who was going to stink up the screen. Director Jang had no real expectations for JC’s pushed model-turned-actor Joo Junseo, nor for Choo Gaeul from a fairly large agency.
‘Rookies only do so well, anyway.’
For the rest, he could only rely on the power ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ of editing. A couple drone shots of the school exterior, atmospheric insert cuts typical of school dramas, solid BGM, and scenes that would appeal to drama geeks—“drama otakus”—with symbolic shots...
“Hello—!”
A clear voice broke his thoughts. Opening his eyes, Director Jang saw Yeoreum bowing politely.
“You’re here!!!”
His only hopeful cast mber, Han Yeoreum, had arrived. Director Jang temporarily shelved his worries about how to patch the weak points.
‘As long as she’s here, it’s fine.’
At least the scenes with Han Yeoreum could absolutely be saved, no matter what.
* * *
“Why’d you co so early?”
This was easily the tenth ti soone had asked.
“I was too nervous to sleep. So I just ca!”
“Oooh~ I love this kind of self-promotion.”
Director Jang laughed, thinking she was joking.
‘But I’m not joking at all, though.’
He didn’t understand what this first lead role ant to soone who had been a nobody for ten years. She woke up at dawn, took the first bus, and rushed to Cheongdam.
‘Though today’s the dead-eyes scene, so it was just light cover makeup.’
Still—starting the day at a salon to prepare for shooting made her heart swell with the feeling of being a real actor.
Arriving on set made it feel even more real. Naturally, I took my place beside Director Jang.
“You did fine at the script reading?”
“Yes, of course.”
With no agency or manager, my first priority was to make a good impression on the staff.
‘And I also prepared a bunch of things.’
I pulled out my worn-out script. Underlines everywhere, notes all over—anyone could see it looked like the script of a diligent actor. It seed my plan worked; Director Jang smiled in satisfaction as he looked through it.
‘I can’t afford to lose buzz to Choo Gaeul.’
I worked my own strategy. I needed to secure the “lead role aura” from the very beginning. My chosen weapon: script analysis.
‘All the web dramas I’ve watched are finally paying off.’
I flipped a few pages and imdiately shared my thoughts.
“Oh, this is the first take.”
“Yes. For this part... could I step slightly out of fra?”
“Which line?”
The golden age of web dramas began with 〈ParCheHi〉. Half the s ca from its scenes, but the other half ca from editing that surpassed the actors’ skills.
“For this part, when Hina cos in and talks—”
If the edit points were used well, the scene could perform surprisingly well. After ten years of watching web dramas and analyzing edit cuts, I shared everything I had prepared.
“...This is good.”
Director Jang murmured as he scanned my script. His fingers began turning the pages faster. Behind his glasses, his eyes sparkled. He let out little sounds of admiration here and there.
“Wow. You really did your howork.”
He even folded a few page corners—aning he planned to use those ideas. When I saw him calling an assistant director over, I cheered inside.
‘Nice.’
This was going better than I expected.
* * *
Before stepping out of the van, Choo Gaeul checked the mirror one more ti.
“Gaeul-ah, are you that nervous? How long are you gonna stare at the mirror?”
“I look good today, right?”
Today, Gaeul looked like a heroine ripped straight out of a romance manga. She adjusted the ribbon on her neck. Her manager laughed softly and reassured her.
“Of course. You’re our Gaeul.”
To erase the defeat she felt during the script reading, Gaeul prepared everything perfectly today. She morized her script, styled herself thoroughly. She felt she wouldn’t lose to Han Yeoreum.
‘What’s the point of being the protagonist only in the script?’
The real protagonist was decided by viewer response—and Gaeul knew that well. She cared more about her spotlight than the drama’s success.
‘Even if a web drama succeeds, it’s still a web drama. There’s a limit.’
She didn’t expect huge views or massive buzz. Even her agency told her:
“Just do your part. This is just a stepping stone. Okay, Gaeul-ah? Don’t stress too much.”
Beating Han Yeoreum with visuals, chemistry with Joo Junseo, and styling popular among teens—those were Gaeul’s and her managent’s goals.
‘...It’s fine. I’m the heroine.’
Arriving early, she watched Han Yeoreum chatting with the staff. The anxiety she felt during the script reading made her lips go dry. The voice she heard then, the presence in her delivery, the way her lines pierced the ear—
“...Hoo.”
Gaeul inhaled deeply. Just then, her eyes t Yeoreum’s. Focusing on Yeoreum’s plain—almost sloppy—styling, Gaeul called the staff next to her.
“Let fix my lips one more ti.”
She bit her lip earlier, so she applied a layer of shimring gloss to calm herself.
‘The focus belongs to .’
Soon, they would be captured in the sa fra.
* * *
Joo Junseo ran a hand through his bright-red hair. After bleaching twice in a row, the ends felt crisp and dry.
“Junseo-yah, but honestly, I really think red hair suits you. I’m not just saying this—”
“Yeah, okay. Stop.”
Seeing his expression, his manager grew uneasy. Ever since the day he received the 〈ParCheHi〉 script, everything about this production rubbed him the wrong way. His hair had originally been jet black—but because of Choo Gaeul’s solo decision-making, he had been forced to dye it.
“...What did you say?”
“I an, the writer said—...”
Since the heroine’s hair color had been changed to pink, the male lead also needed impact. Joo Junseo threw the script across the room several tis that day.
He asked for revisions to his screen ti, but no one listened. The problem was that, aside from Joo Junseo, none of the cast had any real na value.
‘Annoying.’
Heat climbed to his head. Everything, from one to ten, pissed him off.
“Junseo-yah. It’s perfect. Just keep that expression during the shoot!”
“...Yeah. Fine.”
Annoyance seeped into every step toward the set. His manager kept pace beside him, doing his best to encourage him. Joo Junseo bowed lightly to staff he passed and finally opened the rooftop door. Amid the chaos of machinery and cables, he saw a few familiar faces.
“Junseo-ssi, you’re here?”
“Yes, hello.”
Director Jang, the pink-haired nuisance, and...
“Hello!”
At least there was one good thing. Joo Junseo looked down at the girl in the long skirt reaching her knees.
‘Her na was Han Yeoreum, right.’
The worn script in her hand stood out. Whatever she had been discussing with Director Jang, her face was already full of anticipation.
“Lighting setup complete—!”
And then it happened. With a sharp click, the lights installed around them turned on all at once. A dazzling beam spilled over Han Yeoreum’s face.
“...What the.”
Joo Junseo muttered without aning to.
Han Yeoreum was glowing.
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