Chapter 61
At the suggestion that she sing one OST track, Da-eun’s eyes widened.
“Me?”
“Yeah. One song for you and one for Tae-hyung. It felt like the leads singing to each other.”
They decided Tae-hyung would come in tomorrow to listen. PD Do headed to the recording studio with Da-eun.
“I’m really not good at singing,” Da-eun said cautiously.
PD Do reassured her. “We know you’re not a singer. And we’ve brought in a vocal trainer—he’ll coach you.”
It was essentially a fan-service album project, possible only because the drama had done well. The song was easy, and there wouldn’t be any live performances, so she didn’t need to feel pressured.
“Just think of today as learning the song lightly.”
When they arrived at the studio, PD Do introduced the vocal trainer. He greeted her and held out his hand.
“I’m Gong Myeong-cheol. I’m really enjoying the drama! Let’s listen to the song first.”
The song Gong played was the same one Da-eun had heard before her regression. Perhaps because of that, she picked it up faster than she’d expected.
As they listened to Da-eun hum along, Gong and PD Do exchanged bright looks.
“We’ll talk with your manager and set a recording date within the next two or three days,” Gong said, handing her a USB with the track. Then he added some advice. “When you practice, think of it like acting. If you put emotion into it, it’ll be much easier.”
After a brief meeting of about an hour, Da-eun left the studio.
“Oh, right—Writer Hwang said she was coming,” PD Do said, checking the time on his phone.
As they walked down the hallway, Da-eun asked, “Writer Hwang?”
“Yeah. She said she had something to tell you ever since she went to get her fortune told last time.”
Just then, PD Do’s phone rang. It was Writer Hwang Eun-jin.
“She really can’t behave herself,” PD Do muttered after the call, then guided Da-eun to a conference room near the editing suite.
“I’ll go back to editing, Da-eun. Stay here, talk with Writer Hwang, and get home safely!”
“Yes, PD. Take care!”
“Mm-hmm.”
After PD Do left, Da-eun waited a moment before Writer Hwang opened the conference room door and came in.
“Writer.”
“Hi, Da-eun. Do you have about ten minutes?”
“Of course.”
After exchanging brief greetings, Writer Hwang sat across from her and carefully broached the subject.
“It’s nothing major, but…”
She explained that she’d gone to see a fortune teller about two weeks earlier.
Since she’d taken the birth charts of several actors—including Da-eun’s—and PD Do’s, Da-eun had expected as much. But she hadn’t imagined the writer would have something specifically to say to her.
“The fortune teller said something a bit… unsettling about you.”
It wasn’t even good news, which was why Writer Hwang had debated whether to pass it on at all. She pulled a thin yellow paper from her bag and held it out.
“Could you tear this for me? Apparently, they saw something bad happening to you.”
If the fortune teller had just said it and left it at that, she wouldn’t have mentioned it. But they’d even given her a talisman and urged her strongly.
She said she’d regret it if something bad happened later and she hadn’t told Da-eun.
“They said tearing it once would ward off bad luck.”
“Ah… okay.”
Feeling dazed, Da-eun took the talisman. Red brushstrokes were messily scrawled across the yellow paper.
What had the fortune teller seen? If they were truly mystical, did they know about her regression? Could they even be the being who caused it?
Da-eun recalled Noh Hye-young, who had tried twice to harm her, the accident on the Jackpot set, and the image from her dreams of herself covered in burns.
There was no telling what Noh Hye-young might try again, or whether another accident might occur as if by fate.
Rip.
With a light pull of her fingers, the thin talisman tore cleanly in two.
“Is tearing it once enough?”
Could tearing a scrap of paper really avert misfortune? It was split so easily, so unimpressively, that it was hard to believe.
Looking at the torn talisman resting on Da-eun’s small palms, Writer Hwang pressed her lips together.
“Hmm… They didn’t say how many times to tear it…”
She looked dubious, as if wondering whether this was really enough. The fortune teller had sounded so serious that she’d expected something more dramatic.
“Well, they did say to tear it, so… I guess this is fine?”
At Writer Hwang’s words, Da-eun nodded faintly.
“So what should I do with it?”
Should she throw it away? Keep it? Da-eun wasn’t sure. Writer Hwang blinked in confusion.
“Uh… I don’t know…?”
Realizing she sounded like a fraud passing along half-baked advice, Writer Hwang cleared her throat.
“Honestly, I should stop going to fortune tellers. They just make things awkward.”
At her embarrassed expression, Da-eun laughed. After a brief thought, she slipped the torn talisman into her pocket.
“It feels weird to throw it away here, so I’ll just take it with me for now.”
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”
Apparently that was all she’d come for, because Writer Hwang stood up right away. Da-eun rose as well and followed her out of the room.
“Good work today. See you tomorrow, Da-eun. Thanks for indulging my silly request—and get some good rest!”
Writer Hwang waved lightly and walked off.
After saying goodbye, Da-eun left the broadcasting station lobby. Despite the late hour, the night air was still thick with heat.
There weren’t many people around. As she headed toward the outdoor parking lot, Da-eun stopped.
She pulled the torn talisman from her pocket and held it tightly.
“……”
Even if it was superstition, she hoped—just once—that something bad would pass her by.
Just then, a cool gust of wind came from behind and snatched the talisman from her grasp.
“Huh?!”
She’d been holding it pretty firmly—how?
Startled, she followed it with her eyes. Suddenly, the talisman glowed white and burned away.
“What on earth…?”
She was left speechless as it vanished without a trace.
White light.
Da-eun was reminded of the god-like being who had appeared before her prior to her regression. She closed her eyes quietly and prayed.
If something dangerous were to happen, please stop it—just once.
The next day.
On the set of Just, Love, Tae-hyung and Da-eun sat side by side, going over the script.
“Ha… this is so hard,” Tae-hyung groaned, tipping his head back.
Today was the day of the kiss scene.
It was the scene where Jung-hoo, overjoyed that Young-i had accepted his feelings, pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
But Tae-hyung had never been in a relationship and had no experience filming romance, so sweet scenes like this didn’t come easily to him.
He glanced sideways at Da-eun, who was studying the script intently.
What if they were actually a couple?
He did have a fondness for her. But if asked whether it was romantic, the answer was no.
Kang Da-eun was a good friend—but more than that, she felt like a mentor. There was so much to learn from her; the way she thought and analyzed things was astonishing.
Even now—
“We’re actors,” Da-eun said. “Of course it’d be great if we knew those emotions for real and could express them. But there are situations where we can’t—now, and in the future too.”
While working, they wouldn’t always play ordinary people. They might portray unimaginable villains, or even godlike beings beyond humanity.
“I’ve thought about it, and I don’t think we need to obsess over knowing the real emotions.”
Tae-hyung listened closely.
“Even if acting isn’t everything and direction plays a big role, if the emotion reaches the viewers… isn’t that enough?”
See? See?
Persuaded by her words, Tae-hyung nodded quietly, lost in thought.
“Let’s get ready to shoot!”
At the staff’s call, Tae-hyung and Da-eun put down the script and headed to the set.
They’d read the lines until they were worn thin—they knew them by heart.
“Let’s check the blocking first,” PD Do Yeong-su said.
Tae-hyung and Da-eun took their places.
Young-i’s house.
Early in the drama, Young-i had rejected Jung-hoo’s feelings and even lashed out. She’d been ashamed of showing her condition to someone and thought what he felt was pity, not love. But Jung-hoo’s love wasn’t clumsy sympathy.
As Young-i spent time with him, her other personalities disappeared one by one. Through that process, she became captivated and moved by Jung-hoo’s sincerity, and when they were alone together, she felt a flutter in her heart.
Jung-hoo had initially kept his distance so that Young-i wouldn’t feel pressured when she rejected him. But because he continued to watch over her, he keenly sensed the moment her heart opened.
Now was the moment his feelings would be expressed. PD Do Yeong-su shouted energetically,
“Ready—action!”
⁂
Right after her younger brother’s personality appeared and disappeared, Young-i and Jung-hoo were tidying the toy-strewn living room when they found themselves in an unexpected situation—so close that their lips would brush if they moved just a little more.
“…!”
Normally, Young-i would have recoiled in shock, but today she froze, holding her breath, unable even to think of pulling away as she stared straight at Jung-hoo.
Watching Da-eun’s eyes and breathing change as if she’d realized love, Tae-hyung felt his heart drop into his stomach.
