Chapter 41 : White/Hundred (2)

The girl woke from a deep sleep. Disoriented and confused, she slowly began to piece together her identity, guided by a thoughtful message left for her.

[Your name is Seol. You’re a beautiful 17-year-old girl. You must be confused because you don’t remember anything. Follow the yellow sticky notes.]

Now aware of who she was, she began to explore her surroundings, following the trail of yellow notes.

[The day we first met. Baby Seol!]
[Seol, already so interested in the news! Is our daughter a genius?]
[The terrible twos. This was a tough time.]
*
*
*
[Seol, a high school student already? Kids these days grow up so fast. You look so beautiful in your uniform.]

Each note, marking a year in her life, was accompanied by a photo.

A little girl, a woman… The babbling infant in the first photo gradually transformed into a girl who looked just like Seol, while the vibrant young woman aged, wrinkles appearing on her face.

Seol noticed the notes stopped at sixteen.

‘Where’s the next one?’

Her eyes fell on a closed white door with a sticky note attached.

[Don’t open.]

A foul odor emanated from beneath the door. Seol turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

She tilted her head, taking in the scene.

An overturned chair. And then, she looked up and saw it, a familiar shape dangling from the ceiling. She recognized it instantly.

“Mom?”

There was no answer. Seol frowned.

Just then, her stomach growled.

‘I’m hungry.’

She remembered the note about the lunchbox in the refrigerator, with instructions for using the microwave.

She heated it up, swaying back and forth as she waited for the timer to go off.

Ding!

She carried the warm lunchbox to the room where her mother was and sat down, facing her.

“Thanks for the food.”

She began to eat.

‘It smells bad in here. I should clean the floor.’

She smiled, enjoying the taste of the hamburger steak. She continued to eat, savoring each bite.

The scene slowly faded out, showing Seol calmly eating her lunch in the darkened room, her mother’s body hanging in the background, juxtaposed with the bright, cheerful living room, filled with colorful sticky notes.

I watched the storyboard and commented,

“This scene is still disturbing.”
“Then I’ve succeeded.”
“You intentionally made it… gruesome, didn’t you?”
“Innocent people are often the most cruel. Children casually tear the wings off insects, or burn them alive. They don’t understand the consequences of their actions.”
“And the next scene is where she tries to hang herself, out of curiosity?”
“Yes. And then Sung Jihoon, the art student, saves her.”

I covered my mouth with my hand, a wave of nausea rising in my throat. Kim Dohyung’s vision was more… visceral, more disturbing than I had anticipated.

“Can you… do this scene?”
“I have to. I’m an actor.”
“Good. That’s the spirit.”

Dohyung nodded, satisfied. Just then, Kim Gyuri, the makeup artist, called out to me.

“Haram, come here. Makeup time.”
“Coming.”

I turned back to the director.

“Is this how you want me to play the scene?”
“This is your first film, right? Then just do what you think is best, and we’ll go from there.”

I finished discussing the scene with him and went over to Gyuri. She applied makeup to my face, chatting as she worked.

“You have such beautiful skin. You don’t wear makeup?”
“That’s why it’s so nice, isn’t it?”
“It’s a shame. You could pull off any look.”
“I use toner.”
“That’s… basic hygiene. Want me to teach you some makeup techniques?”
“I’m good.”

She finished, and I looked in the mirror.

‘…Not bad.’

I understood the saying, “Highly developed makeup is comparable to magic.” I could probably cause a few traffic accidents with this face. As I was admiring my reflection, Gyuri brought over my costume.

“Time to change.”
“Ugh, do I have to wear this?”

The outfit made me cringe.

A frilly, pure white dress. The complete opposite of my usual casual, androgynous style. Gyuri chuckled.

“Don’t like dresses?”
“No. They make me feel like I’m… losing something important.”
“Well, get used to it. Actors can’t be picky about their costumes.”

I sighed and changed. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. Gyuri commented,

“You look like an angel.”

I forced a smile. It did suit me, I had to admit.

Cameras, lights, sound equipment… The set was filled with unfamiliar technology. I understood why actors got nervous on camera. The director chuckled, trying to ease my anxiety.

“Don’t worry about making mistakes. It’s all digital these days. No wasted film.”
“…Are you sure? I have a feeling I’m going to be a lot of trouble.”

My comment elicited laughter from the crew. It was strange, being the only one not laughing at my own joke.

The first scene was a long take, starting on the bed. I lay down, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.

Unlike theater, where you projected your emotions through exaggerated gestures and vocalizations, film acting was about subtlety. Emotions were conveyed through small movements, micro-expressions.

Naturalism was key. I kept my movements minimal. The cameraman would capture what he needed. I had to become Seol, a blank slate, reacting instinctively, not imitating, not performing.

“Haram, you’re not actually sleeping, are you?”
“This bed is so comfortable, I might actually fall asleep.”
“Really? Let’s start before you do.”

The crew joked around, trying to lighten the mood. I smiled.

“Ready when you are.”

Clap!
The sound of the slate. I took a shallow breath and focused.

I had to become Seol. Think like her, act like her.

I thought about her. What would her expression be like when she woke up? I recalled the stage directions.

[Seol wakes up.]

Okay.

I had just woken up.

I opened my eyes, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window, taking in my surroundings.

Nothing. I don’t remember anything. Why am I here? A flicker of fear.

Then, I saw the message on the chalkboard, a small act of kindness in this unfamiliar world.
[Your name is Seol. You’re a beautiful 17-year-old girl. You must be confused because you don’t remember anything. Follow the yellow sticky notes.]

I frowned and whispered,

“Seol…”

I repeated the name, trying to commit it to memory.

“Seol.”

I saw another sticky note, with a photo attached. I got out of bed and walked over to it.

[The day we first met. Baby Seol!]

‘Is that… me?’

A strange warmth spread through me.

I followed the trail of sticky notes and photos.

[The day we first met. Baby Seol!]
[Seol, already so interested in the news! Is our daughter a genius?]
[The terrible twos. This was a tough time.]

I gently touched a photo of an adorable child. The smooth, glossy surface was comforting.

Seol’s journey continued from room to room, her heart filled with curiosity and a sense of… wonder. Her steps became lighter with each note she found.

[Seol, a high school student already? Kids these days grow up so fast. You look so beautiful in your uniform.]

The sixteenth photo.
She giggled, seeing the familiar face.

She looked around for the next note and frowned.

Where is it? Then, she saw it, another note, tucked away.

[Don’t open.]

‘There it is!’

Her curiosity piqued, she reached for the doorknob. The door creaked open.

“Cut!”

I exhaled, the tension leaving my body. A single scene, yet it had been surprisingly draining. Immersing myself in the character had taken a lot of energy.

I felt eyes on me and looked around. The atmosphere on the set was… strange. I stammered,

“D… Did I do… something wrong?”

The crew’s expressions were grim. I must have made a mistake. A big one.
Director Dohyung spoke, his expression serious.

“I told you before, didn’t I…?”
“Y… Yes?”

He looked at me for a moment, then smiled.

“You’re a natural.”