* * *
This was the radio division of MBS, located in Sangam. Today’s schedule was filming a day in the life of Special DJ Han Yeoreum.
‘A caraman being assigned to ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) at a broadcasting station.... I really feel like a celebrity....’
The air inside a broadcasting station was always chaotic. Everyone moved busily. The chilly temperature unique to a large building snapped the mind awake. Just as I was about to cross the gleaming gray marble floor toward the elevator, soone called out to .
“Actress! Over here!”
That’s right. I’m an actress. That rising Han Yeoreum. When the radio writer called , several people turned to look.
“Hello.”
“Hello!”
I turned my head toward the direction the greeting ca from and bowed slightly. To think the day would co when broadcast station staff greeted first. You’ve made it, Han Yeoreum.
‘This is... the taste of a protagonist...?’
Back in the day, even if I greeted first, I’d just get an “Ah, yes,” or “Oh, right.” Now they actually talk to like this.
While waiting for the elevator, staff from the nearby TV studios and the newsroom struck up small talk.
“I really enjoyed !”
“You should do a project with our station soti. We’re all waiting.”
It’s too sweet... so sweet it makes want to cry. But I’m a pro. Managing my expression, I replied,
“I’m filming an MBS variety show right now!”
“Oh? Really? Which one?”
“I’m shooting . I’m here to do radio today.”
“She’s here as the temporary DJ for Afternoon Nap at 2~.”
The caraman standing to my right was capturing my conversation with the MBS staff in a single fra.
I wrapped up the small talk, showing off baby-puppy Han Yeoreum’s side—soone who chats easily even with strangers.
“Afternoon Nap at 2, fighting!”
When the staff got off the elevator first, only the writer and I remained. I let out a long breath, pretending to be nervous.
‘Broadcasting station people, seriously.’
Their instincts were no joke. They probably realized sothing was being fild the mont they saw the cara—and naturally figured out it was for MBS.
‘That’s why they didn’t say they enjoyed .’
If I had to na my representative work, it was undoubtedly . The fact they deliberately brought up instead ant the lines were planned.
Realizing once again that this was all a coordinated setup, my heart settled.
‘Let’s think of this as a kind of acting too.’
If it was acting, I was confident I could grab ratings and keep them climbing.
“Sixth floor now. Get off here.”
The writer guided kindly. The radio division was made up of small, dedicated studios specialized for soundproofing. Rows of tightly shut white doors lined the hallway.
“Co in—.”
After scanning her ID card, the writer called out to the staff inside.
“The actress is here!”
The Afternoon Nap at 2 writers, who had been drinking coffee, greeted warmly. I exchanged smiles and greetings just like I had with the MBS staff earlier.
“Since this is your first ti, we’ll explain the basic setup first.”
The main writer shook my hand as she spoke. The structure was simple.
In front of the DJ seat where I would sit was what people commonly called a radio microphone. It was mounted on a massive boom arm, a mic that seed to suck in your voice.
“This is the monitor. On the left, you’ll see the BGM cue sheet and track playback timing. On the right are live ssages. The production monitoring ssenger pops up here too, so don’t be too nervous.”
The main writer smiled playfully.
“We can’t go in with you, but you can think of us as being with you the whole ti.”
Inside the booth, a middle-aged man waved both hands. His face was expressionless, but his gestures were lively. He was the technical director, adjusting the mic levels in real ti.
‘With a technical director here, it really feels real.’
In radio, sound was everything—first, second, and third. No matter how much it was a visible radio show, the target was listeners, not viewers.
“Actress, today’s opening lines are here.”
The script appeared on the monitor. I sat down in the DJ seat. Settling into the plush chair, I picked up the headset. The caraman was filming all of it.
‘Don’t ss up.’
Script reading was one of my specialties—sothing I’d practiced alone for a very long ti. I skimd through the opening lines quickly.
“Then we’ll start with a rehearsal. You can read through it comfortably once.”
I was left alone in the recording booth. For a mont, complete silence filled the space. Feeling the stillness against my eardrums, I took a breath.
The German-made headset captured high tones well—and picked up vocal tremors as they were.
‘A perfect environnt for exposing your vocal fundantals.’
But that made it even better. This was the mont to properly show my basics. I opened my mouth.
* * *
‘Huh?’
The main writer couldn’t help but question it internally.
People who’d worked long in radio didn’t exclaim out loud no matter how surprised they were. Even separated by a soundproof booth, the psychological pressure did that. The thought that even a bit of noise couldn’t slip through pressed down on their vocal cords.
‘What is this?’
The main writer wasn’t the only one caught off guard. The technical director, wearing his headset, was also listening to Han Yeoreum’s voice, his hand propped under his chin.
“Hello, everyone—. Let formally introduce myself. I’m actress Han Yeoreum. For the next week, I’ll be eting you all as the special DJ of Afternoon Nap at 2. I’ve only ever read scripts before, so this is my first ti on radio, and I’m very nervous.”
Early morning called for an energetic tone; deep dawn called for a comforting one. It was almost formulaic. That was why Afternoon Nap at 2 was difficult. Too calm and it made people sleepy; too lively and it felt shallow.
‘It’s a ti slot that’s neither here nor there.’
The regular DJ, Shim Juhwan, was a musician known for his vocals. He knew how to balance on that edge.
‘His voice itself is content. That’s Shim Juhwan.’
Listeners, already accustod to his voice, likely had high standards. He’d been asked from above, so he’d agreed reluctantly—but he hadn’t had high expectations.
“I’ll spend this ti chatting comfortably with you all, having fun together before your afternoon nap.”
Watching Han Yeoreum speak so naturally, the main writer realized sothing anew. The raised standard she’d developed over years working with Shim Juhwan—this voice fit right into it.
‘But Han Yeoreum’s texture is similar too? Is she not nervous at all?’
Live broadcast was like that. It made people extrely tense. Ti had to be split down to the second. She’d thought it would be a relief if a rookie actress didn’t cause an accident.
“I’m waiting for those of you who’ll kindly speak first to a new DJ. Anything you’re curious about, anything you’ve wanted to say, your stories—send them all in. Text #0000. 50 won for short ssages, 100 won for long ones. Please rember that information usage fees apply.”
Unlike regular broadcasts, radio had no captions. In a situation where everything had to be conveyed through voice alone, Han Yeoreum showed a skill level that made it feel like subtitles were appearing right in front of you.
‘If you turn on auto-captions for this video, they’d run perfectly.’
Her low, gentle voice was perfectly suited even for public service announcents.
“We’re brought to you by the National Heritage Promotion Agency, Mirae Construction, Gukhyeon Solution, and the Dreambit Foundation. We’ll be back after the ads.”
Han Yeoreum’s opening ended. The main writer recalled the clips of Han Yeoreum she’d seen so far.
At so point, clicking on SNS ant you’d see Han Yeoreum’s face on thumbnails without even trying.
‘Her voice is different. Completely.’
It was different from Seoryeong in , and different from Influencer 1 in . It was even more different from Pi Chaewon in .
‘So this is Han Yeoreum’s real voice....’
For the first ti, facing Han Yeoreum herself rather than a character, the main writer looked at the rookie actress gesturing beyond the booth.
Her youthful face, wearing a headset, clearly asking with her eyes for so kind of evaluation of what she’d just done.
User Comments
0 comments from readers