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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The First Day of Filming
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8.

After a quick beer with Hae-yeong, Yeon-joo returned home and went into her room.

She washed up and was putting on lotion when her eyes suddenly fell on the [Black Flame] script lying on her vanity. Flipping it open, she saw it was about an agent who, after surviving a near-death experience on a mysterious mission, returns to Korea to find his son.

Her gaze froze on the words “find his son.”

She stared at it for a long moment before squeezing her eyes shut. The child in the story was eight years old, but it felt so much like Han-byeol's story that her heart ached.

No one knew that Eun-seong was the child's father. Not even Han-byeol's grandmother knew. She had sworn to the heavens, time and again, that she would take this secret to her grave.

She wanted to live as if she had simply vanished. More than anything, she had prayed he would never hear news of her. And yet, here she was, walking right to him on her own two feet.

“Mom, what are you doing? Aren't you watching the drama?”

As she stood there with a dazed look, her son, Han-byeol, came into the room. Closing the script, Yeon-joo smiled.

“Is it that time already?”

“It’s the finale tonight. You’re not gonna watch? That’s just betrayal.”

“Han-byeol. How did you get to love dramas so much?”

“Why? Try living with Grandma for a long time. Anyone would end up loving them.”

“Alright. Thanks for letting me know, anyway.”

As she stood up, Han-byeol's eyes landed on the script. With a curious pout, Han-byeol climbed onto the bed and opened it.

“Mom. What’s this?”

“Oh, that? It’s a movie script. The one they’ll be using at the set where I’ll be working.”

“Whoa. A script?”

Han-byeol's eyes sparkled for a moment as if he’d discovered something amazing. It seemed the boy was staring at the three large characters spelling out ‘Im Eun-seong,’ and Yeon-joo had to squeeze her eyes shut again.

Her heart was pounding, but not with excitement.

“Mom. So people act using this? Just like it’s written here?”

“That’s right.”

“And you dress the people in here?”

“Something like that. I check to see if the actors are dressed right.”

“Wow. That’s cool.”

At Han-byeol's unexpected words, Yeon-joo forced her sadness down. Han-byeol, fascinated by his first script, flipped through a few pages before looking up.

Yeon-joo gazed at her son’s face and let out a long sigh. Han-byeol was ten this year, but only in the second grade.

He had been in a major accident when he was younger, causing him to start elementary school a year late. He should have been in the third grade, but that was why he was still in second.

Only his teacher knew about this; his classmates didn't, and since he was small for his age, he never stood out. The boy thought he was nine, just like his friends, and no adult bothered to correct him and say he was ten.

“Mom. Can’t I go visit?”

“What? Oh, no. It’s a workplace, so absolutely not. Not just anyone can go in.”

“Really? I want to see it, though. Acting is so cool.”

Han-byeol looked thoroughly disappointed. Yeon-joo shook her head firmly, thinking it was a terrible idea. Watching from a distance wouldn't have been difficult, but this was a set she could never let him visit.

Because *he* was there.

“The drama’s starting, are you coming out or not?”

“Yes! We’re coming!”

At her mother's call, Yeon-joo took her son's hand and went out to the living room. She vowed to herself, again, to avoid talking about the shoot in front of Han-byeol as much as possible.

*

The First Shoot

A few days later, the first day of filming began. As Eun-seong stepped out of a state-of-the-art luxury van, several staff members rushed toward him.

Having chiseled his body down to seven percent body fat, he had a physique that made anyone want to reach out and touch.

“Actor Im Eun-seong has arrived!”

A staff member announced loudly, and applause broke out across the set, which had been bustling with preparations. While Eun-seong bowed and greeted people here and there, a truck pulled up behind him.

His manager, Dong-hwan, moved quickly and started unloading boxes.

“Our very own Actor Im Eun-seong has prepared Hanwoo beef sets and Gongjindan for all the cast and crew! We look forward to working with you all!”

Dong-hwan's announcement was met with an even louder round of applause. As the staff members collected their boxes one by one, their eyes widened at the sheer scale of the gifts.

The Hanwoo, from Hoengseong, was a 1++ grade assorted set with magnificent marbling; just looking at its color and texture was a feast for the eyes. The Gongjindan was a month's supply, packed with deer antler, a premium herbal medicine that would retail for nearly two million won.

And to top it off, there was a solid pure gold card engraved with each person's name—a hefty piece of gold by any measure. The staff cheered, and the director was more delighted than anyone by the boost in morale on set.

“Alright, Go Yeon-joo. Sign here and take this.”

She was handed her assigned box, and Yeon-joo accepted it. She blankly watched the staff members opening their boxes in every corner, then her gaze shifted to Eun-seong.

As if he had been waiting, their eyes met. Startled to make eye contact with Eun-seong, who was surrounded by people, Yeon-joo gave a cursory nod and quickly turned away.

Eun-seong watched impassively as Yeon-joo blatantly avoided his gaze, then slowly closed and opened his eyes. Then, standing amidst the flocking staff, he put on the business smile that everyone loved.

He knew full well that the atmosphere of a film set was dictated by its lead actor.

*

“Hello, Mr. Im.”

Eun-seong turned his head at the voice that greeted him from nearby. The person approaching, pulling a child by the hand, was the mother of the boy cast as the child actor in the film.

The mother, who acted as her son's manager, was making a blatant and proactive attempt to start a conversation.

“Oh my, thank you so much for the gift. You were so thoughtful and considerate, I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s nothing. I figured the child wouldn’t be taking Gongjindan.”

“Exactly! It’s not easy to be that considerate, is it? Thank you, truly. My Woo-min loves his gift, too.”

He had prepared a custom gift for the child actor—a jacket and a hat—which seemed to have pleased the mother more than the child.

Eun-seong glanced down at the small child. At that, the mother nudged the boy’s shoulder.

“Woo-min. You need to greet him. You know who this is, right? It’s Actor Im Eun-seong. Go on, say hello.”

“Hello. I’m Yang Woo-min.”

The boy, giving in to his mother’s pestering, offered a greeting that sounded somehow indifferent. Having met him at the script reading, Eun-seong gave a small wave and returned the greeting.

Was he eight? Or nine?

“Right. Hello. It’s been a while.”

“Woo-min, he said hello to you. You need to say, ‘Thank you for the gift, sir.’ Okay?”

The mother, seemingly frustrated by her son's reticence, kept prodding him. Whether it was because of the unfamiliar surroundings, the boy looked thoroughly intimidated as he bowed his head.

“Thank you for the gift.”

“You’re welcome. Do you like your gift?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really know what it is.”

When the child spoke the truth, his mother looked startled. Flustered that her son wasn't saying what she wanted, she quickly interjected to smooth things over.

“Oh dear, he’s just shy. He’s usually so talkative and smiley when he’s with me. I don’t know what’s gotten into him today.”

“Kids are like that. As long as he does well during filming, that’s all that matters.”

Eun-seong reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair. He felt a brief pang of pity for the child actor, who was clearly here not by his own will but by someone else’s, but the feeling quickly faded.

“You said this is your first time filming, right?”

“Yes. It’s his first time.”

*He's pretty lucky for a first-timer.* Eun-seong swallowed the rest of his thoughts and gave a pleasant smile.

The acting profession was clearly the mother's dream, not the child's, and she was undoubtedly picturing a hopeful future she would achieve through her son.

Well, whatever their story was, it had nothing to do with him. The boy had beaten 800-to-1 odds to get here, and as long as it didn’t interfere with the shoot, it didn’t matter whose dream it was.

As expected of a child chosen with such care, the young actor had striking, well-defined features for his age. Eun-seong himself had been surprised when he first met the boy, wondering where they had found a child who resembled him so closely.

“Let’s do a good job together.”

“Yes. Goodbye.”

As the child brought the conversation to an abrupt end, thinking it was over, the mother once again glanced nervously at Eun-seong. He laughed it off as if to say it was fine, and the mother pulled her son’s hand and walked away.

Filming with Im Eun-seong—the mother knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She was burning with a fierce determination to make her child adapt, no matter what it took.

It was a common sight. How many children had he seen on set, dragged there by their parents' inflated dreams?

“You won’t last long, either.”

Eun-seong muttered, watching the boy’s retreating back. Before long, the child would become a rare sight on any set. He didn't have the makings of a long-term actor. Even if his handsome face landed him a few roles, his weak will meant the work would dry up soon enough.

This wasn't an industry that went easy on you just because you were a child. The acting profession was harsh and unforgiving to everyone, regardless of age or gender.

It was an industry where it was hard to survive even if you gave it your all, so without one's own drive, it would all be a pointless waste of time. Eun-seong knew this all too well.

The boy's mother, however, clearly did not.

*

Yeon-joo moved with a few others, carrying her box. When she gathered with her team and opened the box, the first thing that caught her eye was the pure gold card.

People's mouths fell slightly open.

“My god, Im Eun-seong is on another level when it comes to spending money. What is all this?”

“I know, right? I’ve been working in this field for five years and I’ve never gotten anything like this.”

“I’ve been in this business for ten years, and this is a first for me. All of this combined must easily be worth hundreds of millions of won, right?”

“I wonder if a few hundred million won even feels like money to him.”

The staff’s chatter sounded distant to her. Looking down at the card, Yeon-joo picked it up without thinking.

「To Go Yeon-joo. Thank you for becoming part of the family. Sincerely, Im Eun-seong.」

“The messages on the cards are all different? Wow, Im Eun-seong really is a class act, just like they say.”

“You think the agency wrote them? Do you think Im Eun-seong really wrote this?”

“I’m not gonna overthink it. Who cares who wrote it? I’m posting a proof shot on social media right now to repay his kindness.”

“This is going to make the news and be a hot topic for a while. What are the other actors going to do, feeling so outshone?”

Thank you for becoming part of the family.

Yeon-joo stared blankly at the short message. There was no way he could have known anything when he wrote it—and as the others said, an agency employee had probably picked the phrase—but she couldn't stop her heart from reacting to the word ‘family’.

Afraid her mind would start to wander, Yeon-joo quickly put the card away. Hearing that Eun-seong had gone into makeup, the wardrobe team finished their preparations and started to move.

“What the.”

It was then. Walking at the back of her team, Yeon-joo froze at the voice she heard.

“Hey. What the hell. What are you doing here?”

It was Tae-gon, the CEO of the agency who had forced her to break up with him all those years ago.