Chapter 26
Director Shin was at a loss and considered Hye-young’s proposal.
Should they really go with a dual role just for this episode?
This week’s broadcast was due immediately, so they had to finish filming today and start editing right away to make the deadline.
“Hm…”
The staff looked at the wrecked set and sighed. Throwing props was in the script, so things were supposed to get messy anyway — but who expected the display cabinet to topple and break?
If only No Hye-young hadn’t overacted, things wouldn’t have escalated this far.
Director Shin pressed his fingers against his forehead. His head hurt.
Wait, hold on…
A sudden spark of an idea made his eyes blink rapidly.
“Let’s take a ten-minute break.”
Rather than immediately accepting Hye-young’s suggestion, he announced a break. He thought there might be a better way.
“Uh, Writer Kim. We’ve got a situation.”
He needed to consult the writer first. Writer Kim had already been struggling to come up with the ending as they rushed through the latter half of the shoot.
—What? Don’t scare me like that. What happened?
The ending they had hastily changed due to time pressure was one where “Uri” steals Nari’s life and settles in her place — and Nari dies unexpectedly.
Here’s what that ending looked like:
Nari’s husband eventually realizes that Nari and Uri had switched places.
After thinking it through, he decides he prefers Uri — who is elegant and controllable — over Nari, who, no matter how much she’s taught, remains wild and unruly.
If he had to live with the scandal of having an adopted daughter as a wife anyway, he might as well choose the “better” option.
Meanwhile, Nari refuses to give up the chaebol life she enjoyed after being adopted and keeps coming back persistently.
Eventually, Nari dies in an “accident” orchestrated by the husband, and Uri takes over her position as if she had always been Nari.
Director Shin stepped outside, cigarette in his mouth, exhaling smoke as he began speaking.
“About the ending…”
They decided on it because of time constraints, but honestly, it lacked tension and felt anticlimactic.
Nari, the villain, fell apart far too easily.
They kicked her out of the story through death, but in the end, it even felt like she was unfairly wronged by Uri, the protagonist.
Sure, Nari was originally written to push Uri into taking everything — treating her twin like she was less than human, verbally abusing her, sometimes even hitting her.
But killing her off so easily diluted both the tension with the villain and the protagonist’s justification as she started coveting the villain’s place.
“We need to change it again.”
Originally, Writer Kim had created a complex backstory and emotional depth for Nari.
But because No Hye-young’s acting couldn’t quite handle the complexity, they had cut or simplified Nari’s growth arc, which led to the current storyline.
In the original plot, Nari also wanted to escape the chaebol life. She and Uri clash, oppose each other, and in the end decide together to switch lives — that was the central idea.
—And how exactly are we supposed to change it again?
Writer Kim let out an exhausted sigh through the receiver.
“There’s been an accident on set…”
—What? What kind of accident! I’m already overwhelmed. I can barely write a single line. I’m going crazy!
Although the interruption was unwelcome in such a pressured situation, the incident unexpectedly gave Director Shin inspiration.
“Da-eun is seriously injured.”
—Ha…! Unreal. How?! What about the rest of the shoot? No, wait. Did she go to the hospital? Is she okay?
Director Shin summarized the situation: Da-eun’s leg was badly torn, and she was on her way to the hospital.
They hadn’t received a diagnosis yet, but no matter what, shooting normally would be impossible.
After a brief pause, he shared the idea that had come to him.
“So here’s what I’m thinking — listen.”
Seeing Uri not moving, Nari panics and tries to run — then realizes this is her chance.
Nari rushes to the dressing room, changes into Uri’s clothes, and contacts someone.
Her plan is to secretly return to her original place.
“We can finish today’s shoot like that and air it this week…”
In the new ending, Nari impersonates Uri. But because their personalities are so different, the husband quickly notices.
He asks Nari where Uri is, but she refuses to answer. The husband uses his power and money to track Uri down.
Nari has left Uri in the care of the second male lead, who, noticing she hasn’t woken up for days, admits her to a hospital — unfortunately, one owned by the husband’s family.
This allows the husband to locate Uri, but Nari arrives sooner and strangles her. Her impulsive, explosive personality emerges again.
Fortunately, the husband arrives just in time, witnesses the scene, and Nari is arrested for attempted murder.
—…
Writer Kim went silent, thinking. Break time was ending; they checked the clock.
—Okay. Let’s go with that, sunbae. Da-eun won’t have trouble filming like this. It’s messy, but the tension and justification are there.
Director Shin quickly stubbed out his cigarette and cleared his throat.
“Good. Then I’ll finish filming this week’s footage.”
—Okay. I’ll hurry and write the next script. I think it’ll go smoothly.
Writer Kim sounded noticeably relieved.
Da-eun’s acting had been solid so far, so now it was up to the writer and director to avoid disappointing viewers with the script and directing.
“We’re almost there, Writer Kim.”
—Yeah, sunbae. Let’s wrap this up well.
When Director Shin returned to the set, the overturned props were still scattered everywhere.
“All right, let’s clean this up! Hye-young, I need to see you for a moment.”
A few minutes later, everyone saw the excited expression Hye-young had earlier — thrilled at the thought of playing both roles — freeze into a deadly glare.
Da-eun was diagnosed with a ruptured knee ligament.
She remembered the chilling look in Hye-young’s eyes just before she fell.
Only someone who had seen it up close could have recognized the hostility there.
But no matter how much Hye-young disliked her… Da-eun had believed she would at least have the professionalism and conscience expected of actors working on the same drama.
Instead, Hye-young caused the accident while making it look unintentional.
There was no proof she had done it on purpose, so they couldn’t accuse her.
“So it wasn’t artistic passion after all.”
Da-eun had thought she was simply meticulous and ambitious about the craft. But maybe she was just desperate for fame.
There were only a few episodes left — but could she film with a leg like this?
No. She had to.
She would ask them to arrange the blocking so she could remain standing or sitting as much as possible.
Da-eun let out a deep sigh. She felt horribly guilty toward the director, writer, and all the staff.
“Da-eun.”
While she waited at the hospital registration office with her leg in a cast, Ha-jung returned from contacting the filming site.
“They said they’re changing the ending again.”
“What?”
Hadn’t the ending already been changed once from the original synopsis? And now it was changing again — almost certainly because she was injured.
“They’re making it so Nari tries to hurt you.”
“Oh…”
“You’ll get two days off until the new script comes out. Also—”
Ha-jung glanced around at the other people in the waiting room before whispering to Da-eun:
“No Hye-young said she wants to play both roles.”
As if she’d been waiting for Da-eun to get hurt. Seeing that, Ha-jung muttered angrily, saying it must’ve been intentional — how else would she conveniently topple the display cabinet? Method acting, her foot!
“I don’t like badmouthing people, but she’s too much! Even if it wasn’t intentional, that’s it? No apology? If she hadn’t knocked over the cabinet…”
“It was probably intentional.”
Ha-jung froze mid-rant and looked at her.
“Huh?”
“Kang Da-eun!”
Just then, someone from the registration desk called her name, and Ha-jung had to stand up to take care of the payment.
“Um… excuse me. Are you an actress?”
A patient passing by cautiously asked.
Between <Secret Letter> and the increasingly outrageous <We Must Be>, Da-eun had become quite recognizable.
When she smiled and greeted them, more people approached asking for autographs and handshakes. She couldn’t even stand up because of her leg.
She patiently signed for each person until Ha-jung returned.
When Da-eun wore a hat and was alone, people only stole glances. But once her name was called out loud, they became sure it was her.
“S-Sorry! Her stability comes first! Thank you, everyone!”
Ha-jung returned from the cashier in a fluster, pushing through the crowd.
She quickly helped Da-eun up. Many recognized her, but only a handful actually approached, so Da-eun gladly signed for all of them before leaving the hospital.
“This is definitely going to make the news.”
Several people had taken photos. Once they posted on social media, articles would inevitably follow.
After helping Da-eun into the car, Ha-jung got behind the wheel.
“By the way… what did you mean earlier?”
She smoothly pulled the car away from the curb.
If Hye-young had really done it on purpose, it was a serious issue.
They were in the same agency, working on the same project — it meant Da-eun was repeatedly being exposed to danger.
