It was late into the night after the after-party had ended.
Only after seeing all the staff off to their homes did Shin Yi-han finally hop into a cab andmake his way back to his studio apartment in Seoul.
Whoa. Home at last.
The cherry blossom molding he hadn't seen in ages. The worn-out chair and desk. And a single bed.
Just like old times.
Shin Yi-han let out a low chuckle as he took in the familiar one-room.
The situation felt strangely surreal compared to the past, when he'd suffered burns and rushed straight back to his hometown.
Shin Yi-han grabbed a towel and some clothes before heading into the bathroom.
His body felt heavy as lead. All he wanted was to wash up and crash.
But once he actually showered,it wasn't that easy to fall asleep.
Even after lying in bed and pulling the covers over himself, his eyes would snap open whenever he tried to drift off. Sleep just wouldn't come.
He was definitely exhausted, yet his mind kept sharpening into focus.
There was no helping it.
The events from the after-party were still floating around in his head.
'Wanna do a movie with me?'
Assistant Director Kwak Hoon, who had clung to him more insistently the drunker he got, had kept begging him to join.
'What are you talking about? Yi-han's next project is with me! Step aside, Assistant Director!'
'Whoa, Director, why are you already claiming our Yi-han? I brought him here, you know?'
'Hey now! Even cold water has an order to it.'
'...?!'
The director, casually shutting down Kwak Hoon's casting pitch with just a few words right beside him.
Thinking back on it made Shin Yi-han chuckle again.
It was like a comedy routine straight out of a skit.
Kwak Hoon's lines were especially spot-on, exactly like before.
Back then and now.
'Yi-han! I finally landed a movie!'
'Let's do it together!'
It was right around the time he'd first gotten burned and holed up in his room.
Even though Kwak Hoon had faced a setback with his debut project and was going through his toughest phase, he'd always come looking for him.
Shin Yi-han could still vividly picture Kwak Hoon slipping scenarios he'd scrounged up from everywhere into the mailbox and quietly slipping away.
It must have been guilt—guilt over ruining the bright future of a promising rookie actor just because he'd cast him.
How much time had passed like that?
Eventually, when Kwak Hoon scraped together another hard-won opportunity, he'd said to him:
'Why won't you answer me? I'm asking you to do the movie with me.'
'Why let your talent rot? With an actor like you, the film can't possibly flop.'
He'd handed him a scenario for his next project.
It was the story of a young man covered in burns...
'See? You're perfect for the lead, right?'
He'd probably given a faint smile at that.
It was basically saying he'd written his next precious role just for him.
For reference, the scenario...
Was utter trash. Not entertaining at all.
And back then, he'd said:
'...Fine.'
'I'll do this one.'
Instead of acting, he'd handed over a script.
'You don't have to do the lead or the supporting roles... anything.'
'Just let me try this one thing, Hyung.'
If there ever came a day when he could truly act again.
The story he'd always wanted to tell.
He laid it out before him.
'Not as an actor, but as a writer.'
That was when it started.
Breaking free from the countless scripts he'd pored over, he began writing his own story.
He'd thrashed around desperately because he couldn't give up, determined to make at least part of it real.
Pouring in his love, one piece at a time.
Infusing it with rage and envy.
Building a new world.
But no matter how much of a world-builder he was as a writer, no matter how perfect the tale he spun, he could never take a single step inside it.
But...
'Not anymore.'
With those words, Shin Yi-han bolted upright.
He powered on the battered laptop on his desk.
He'd planned to sleep it off and start fresh with a clear head on the way back, but...
It looked like it was already too late.
Sleep wasn't coming anyway—not with his chest itching like this, driving him mad.
This could be the chance to change everything. The timing felt perfect, too.
And besides...
This was his shot to finally step into the story he'd always dreamed of telling.
His heart began pounding hard.
Once his hands got moving, they wouldn't stop.
As dawn approached, the only sound filling the room was the rapid clacking of keys.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
That same sleepless dawn wasn't just limited to Shin Yi-han and Kwak Hoon.
At the Red Film office, Even in the early morning editing bay, the lights were on.
It was the director.
On his way home after the after-party, Director Song Won-sik had turned straight toward the production office instead.
The shoot had gone perfectly.
They'd even splurged on beef to celebrate.
But once the alcohol wore off, any thought of sleep vanished. With a buzz like this, there was no way he'd doze off.
For the first time in ages, his passion was boiling over.
He wanted to tweak that flashback scene they'd shot today right now.
The original flashback was shocking enough, but the hastily added scene from the side script pages went beyond that.
He couldn't hold back.
That image still lingered vividly in his mind.
The darkening mountain and the relentless rain.
The clumsy digging...
- Hm, hmm... hm~.
Beyond the eerie sight before his eyes, into his ears.
A little hum not in the side script.
When that sound leaked through the headphones, he didn't know how stunned he'd been.
'Holy...'
No one else might get it, but he, as the director, knew for sure.
That it wasn't just any hum.
It was the lullaby he himself hadn't thought to include, even with the sudden revisions.
'The melody that would pierce through the entire film, from start to finish.'
And yet, without any direction, it was captured in the scene.
As if he'd watched an unfinished movie a dozen times already.
How else could he know elements hidden deep in the script unless he'd scrutinized every detail?
By the end of the shoot, he'd even had absurd thoughts.
That this newbie wasn't just devouring the script—he was rebirthing the scenes.
That he understood the killer better than he, the man who'd created him.
"It's still giving me chills. How is that possible?"
As he reviewed today's footage, the director rubbed his face dry, snapping himself back to reality.
This wouldn't do. The actor was delivering like that; he couldn't lag behind.
Click, click! He replayed the footage over and over, hunting for the perfect edit points.
To preserve this young killer's emotions undisturbed, and to capture them intact in the film.
It felt like starting over, igniting a fire he hadn't felt in years.
Time flew by unnoticed.
And around the same time, someone spotted the director like that.
"Huh?"
It was PD Kim Geun-tae from the broadcasting station next door.
Stumbling drunk, Kim Geun-tae halted when he noticed the light in the office.
"What the heck. Someone else pulled an all-nighter besides me."
He'd gotten hammered holding his team hostage over a headache-inducing issue, dragging it out to this hour.
All because of the new drama they were launching.
Of course, the drama script itself was solid gold.
A mother who lost her only son.
Waiting and waiting for the students who killed him to step into society and find happiness, until she finally enacts her revenge.
The whole process was heartbreakingly brutal... and brilliantly uplifting in a way that made you root for her.
It was the kind of story that couldn't fail.
Hell, they'd picked it from a contest purely for its entertainment value—guaranteed hit.
But there was a problem.
Casting.
'Kids, should we just go crash the theater scene and scout on foot? Huh? Yeah?!'
He kept whining in front of his team because there were no good options.
They'd at least nailed the crucial mom role.
But they couldn't find anyone for the son, Lee Ha-neul—the spark that starts it all.
There were candidates, sure.
'What's the deal? Why are they all so meh?'
The issue was none of them clicked.
Sigh.
To top it off, all the young actors with decent chops had been snatched up by other dramas.
Some massive rom-com shoot with record staffing or whatever. Damn it.
Thieving bastards with no morals at that station.
But Lee Ha-neul, the son, was key—he kicked off the whole story. They couldn't just grab any random actor.
With time running short, skimping here would waste this script.
But they had to have someone to cast.
'Come on, how many high school kids out there can act so chillingly you get goosebumps at first glance?!'
In the end, his drunken rants just dragged on.
'Seriously, you guys know anyone? Some hidden rookie who acts like his life depends on it. Please.'
Come to think of it, he'd been too grumpy with his team. Ahem.
Anyway, his head was a mess.
And just as he clutched it, heading home, that's when he spotted that light.
Even the familiar bald spot shining under the fluorescents—whoever saw it would know the guy. Early balding, tsk tsk.
"Should I grab some hangover soup with him?"
Excited at finding a fellow all-nighter, PD Kim Geun-tae bounded up to the office.
Technically starting work early, but it wasn't slacking.
He could casually ask about promising rookies while he was at it. All part of the job. For real.
Oddly, the office door was unlocked.
How out of it must he have been to forget to lock up?
"Hey, Song Won-sik!"
He knew the layout from dropping by often. PD Kim Geun-tae flung open the editing room door and called out.
"What're you doing? Let's get some han—"
But he couldn't finish.
It wasn't because the director was glued to the monitor, oblivious to his voice.
From the headset over the director's ears.
- Hi.
A faint voice leaked out.
- Wanna play with me, oppa? There's a dog over there too.
Just a voice, yet inexplicable goosebumps erupted along his arms.
Kim Geun-tae's eyes snapped to the monitor.
He couldn't tear them away from the uniformed student on screen.
Amid that uncanny unease.
- It's gonna be fun. With us.
His breath caught.
In the end, PD Kim Geun-tae could only stand silently behind until the footage ended.
Until Director Song Won-sik finally turned at the faint presence.
And sure enough, it was the subtle noise that made the director turn.
"Aaah!"
Spotting PD Kim Geun-tae right behind him, Director Song Won-sik let out a shrill scream.
"Y-You crazy bastard! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
His heart was pounding like mad. Cold sweat beaded up.
"Say something if you're here! The edit's creepy enough already. Damn."
But whether he'd startled or not, the other man seemed uninterested.
"...W-What's this?"
Grabbing his shoulders urgently and blurting that out.
"Who the hell is this actor?!"
Director Song Won-sik's lips curved up.
Ah, this guy?
The person himself, Shin Yi-han, had no idea.
But it was morning, and many things were just beginning.
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