Chapter : 24

“Let’s run over there. Yoon Hae-in, run as fast as you can while memorizing today’s lines. During the audition evaluation period, we’ll do 40-minute runs together at this time.”

It seemed sudden, but it wasn’t. For an actor to express emotions, they need the stamina to pour out those feelings.

To handle many lines, lung capacity must support it. Running was the perfect training to satisfy all these conditions.

Without a word, Hae-in started running in the direction Do-jun indicated.

It wasn’t awkward; she had done this kind of training a lot back in college before theater performances. It was just that her breath was heavy from running after a long time.

Do-jun, keeping his calm, even breaths as at the beginning, ran closely beside her, helping her regulate her pace.

“Yoon Hae-in.”

“Huff… huff… yes.”

“Your stamina is at its limit.”

“Huff… it’s been a while since I last ran.”

“While running, try projecting your voice as long as possible. Use your abdominal strength to release it. It’ll make acting easier later.”

It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time—talking about projection with someone, focusing entirely on controlling her breath for acting.

And only now did she feel at ease, as if she had finally put on the right clothes—this was her place.

Hae-in slowly regulated her breathing and began vocalizing.

She concentrated on producing sound from deep within her abdomen, steadying her shaky breaths. Do-jun, carefully observing her voice, looked more serious than anyone.

After repeating the same action three or four times, Do-jun smiled. Hae-in blinked at the first smile she had ever seen on his usually expressionless face.

“You’re good.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m surprised at how well you’re doing.”

A sigh of slight tension escaped, and Do-jun handed Hae-in the bottled water he had. The crisp dawn air filled her lungs.

Scene 47

In front of the thatched house, a red flag fluttered. Drizzling rain made the red flag appear like the traces of blood left by war.

Officer Baek: (looking at the red flag, slowly fixing her gaze on it, then walking into the house)

Officer Baek entered the house with a tense expression. Wearing the black uniform of the Student Volunteer Corps, her face was as stiff as the uniform itself. The scent of peonies filled her lungs, and she slowly closed her eyes. Hong Seol was near.

Officer Baek: (thinking) All the children in the village who came into contact with Hong Seol have disappeared. She looks at Hong Seol with a tense expression. But at the same time, her beautiful appearance stirs both fear and strange emotions in me. I lower my gaze.)

Hong Seol: (looking at Officer Baek) Why…? Did you also come to see if I’m human? Or to try to kill me? If you kill me! If you kill me, will those children come back alive? (Hong Seol pauses, speaking as if exhaling a sigh. Over the intensifying rain, her voice comes like a soliloquy.) My family is dead. That young spark died right in front of me…! (Hong Seol closes her eyes.) No one! No one cared about that death, and now you suddenly need me? Do you think I… will tell you?

“Hong Seol is a complex character. She came to Baekamgol to escape the war, but no one knows where she came from, what she went through, or how she ended up in this remote village. The war was far too cruel for a woman in her twenties.”

Today’s shoot was planned to feature Hae-in alone.

Hae-in also thought it would be easier, and since it was a monologue, there was no need for a counterpart.

As she showed the director the monologue she had written, Hae-in tilted her head, pondering.

“…But director, was Hong Seol really in her twenties? Were her words to Officer Baek sincere?”

Five years ago, while studying the script for Hypnosis, she had asked herself the same questions.

Who was Hong Seol? Was she really in her twenties like her blossomed appearance suggested? Yet, she conveyed the emotions of an octogenarian flawlessly.

And that question remained for the audience even after the film ended.

“I also studied the Hypnosis script day and night while preparing for this shoot. Well, just for a few days. I saw Hae-in’s previous acting. My personal thought is that Hong Seol might be a character who transcends time itself.”

“Transcends time…?”

“Strictly speaking, she’s a character without age. She exists, but almost as if unreal. She’s both in her twenties and in her eighties. So, you can’t judge her with conventional time.”

It was hard to fully grasp what the director meant. Who was Hong Seol? After five years, Hae-in knew the question would never be answered now.

“But Hae-in, about this part…”

“Yes?”

“The last line, ‘No one! No one cared about that death.’ Maybe include something like, ‘I thought you’d be different.’ Because… Officer Baek is almost the only person in Baekamgol who doesn’t harbor hostility toward Hong Seol. Wouldn’t that thought come first in such a situation?”

Everyone in Baekamgol held hostility toward Hong Seol. The public sentiment after the war was grim. In this icy, tense village, Hong Seol struggled through each day.

And Officer Baek was the only one who did not bear hostility—until he came to her house.

Hae-in’s understanding of the emotional line matched the director’s suggestion. Yet she hesitated for one reason:

She was a crippled actor in front of the camera.

The lines she had memorized five years ago in Hypnosis were perfect, but this monologue had no words she could rely on yet.

What she could show now was not acting. It had to be a monologue she wanted to release into the world herself.

“How is it? Not good?”

While Hae-in hesitated, lights were being set up on the set, and the costume team made final checks on her outfit. She grew anxious, unsure how to explain the situation to herself.

“What’s not going well?”

A long shadow fell over Hae-in and the director seated on a small chair. The familiar voice and citrus scent penetrated her lungs.

“Oh? Hyuk-ah! Long time no see.”

Director, who had worked with Lee Hyuk before, warmly embraced him. Hyuk’s gaze persistently fixed on Hae-in.

“What’s with that sulky face, Yoon Hae-in? Not happy to see me?”

“Happy? I just get nauseous when I see the camera. But why did you come?”

“Ta-da! I brought something for the first official shoot! It’s not an official shoot, so a coffee truck would be overkill. I just got coffee and snacks ready for the staff working since dawn. I brought 50 cups, so have two each.”

“Oh wow, Lee Hyuk, you’re the best! My favorite! Bringing life-giving tribute.”

The costume team leader took a cup of coffee and praised him. His cheerful charm instantly brightened the set—his weapon and his allure.

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

“Didn’t have to! And someone has to play Officer Baek, right? I even prepared the costume. Got it from the MBS drama team after some negotiation.”

From the shopping bag, he pulled out a Student Volunteer Corps uniform, representing the 1950s. Since Hae-in’s scene was solo, it was a costume that Do-jun hadn’t prepared.

“Hey! Why bring this? This shoot is just a monologue, done alone.”